A Better Weapon.

Free Lance, Volume I, Issue 33, 16 February 1901, Page 17

A Better Weapon.

ONE night I strolled into the Haymarket Theatre, took a stall ticket, and soon comfortably settled myself to enjoy the play. By the time the third act came I was deeply interested, and my gaze and whole attention were rivetted on the stage. I would not for the world have willingly moved an eyelid, and thereby lost one look or action, yet after a few minutes I became vaguely conscious of a curious sensation of disquietude. My eyes, too, felt strangely drawn— dead against my will — to turn their gaze away from the stage. I struggled against this strange feeling, I tried to still stare before me, to concentrate my mentaL forces on the play — but in vain. It was as if some power stronger far than myself compelled me to turn from by an irresistible force, straight to a the stage and lift my eyes, drawn as by an irrisistible force, straight to a box on the second tier — and meet the steadfast gaze of a pair of handsome dark eyes that searched me through — held me in a sort of spell. I knew the man at onee — those eyes, the straight, hnely-cut features, the tall, graceful figure. "Louis Carleton, by Joy I muttered, and he smiled as if he had heard my inward exclamation, and turned his face to the stage. I could not, I felt that I must go up to him, outside my natural wish to see again an old "chum," after some three years' gap of time. I knew now, too — or, at least, half guessed — the cause of my strange sensations, and vexed at myself, struggled to resist them. "I won't stir till the play is over," I said inwardly, but the moment the actdrop fell in the third act I rose — I was obliged to rise, in obedience to that man's mesmeric power — and made my way round to his box. I tapped at the door. "Come in," said the soft voice I remembered so well, and the next moment our two right hands were close clasped. He laughed pleasantly. "Well, I saw you didn't look my way — too absorbed in the play so I thought, for a lark, I'd try what I could do with the old game, as you call it, and compel you to look up, and come to me It's an age since wo mot \ Bertram, so I have a lot to hear, I#|j suppose ?" I

"Or rather, I have," said I. "Such ;i cheeky, wandering dare-devil as you must have some adventures or larks to tell." Carleton laughed again, and said "Peccavi ! The grandest, cheekiest Lark or adventure was the latest, I fancy. Come with me to my club after this show is over, and I'll tell you, if you care to hear it." "Care! Of course I do," said I eagerly. "Tell me all about yourself, you globe-trotter l Are you " "Hold hard, old man — all in good time — I want to hear about yourself first." There was not much to tell him of my last three years' doings. Like himself, I was a young man of good means, but I was not the restless mortal he was, and spent my time in a very ordinary sort of way. However, I told him uhat there was to tell, and was glad when the curtain fell. A very short walk brought us to his club m Pall Mall, where he took me to a private room and ordered light refreshments. "Try those Indian cigarettes," he said, ''they're prime , delicate enough foi a lady's lips." "Thanks, I'll try them. Now, let's hear your 'latest,' please, Louis," said I, "you can't escape it, you know." "So it seems," returned Carleton, merrily. "Well, last autumn I was in Southern Italy, determined this time to ferret out some tolerably uninvaded town or village which should be new to my wanderings. At my hotel in Naples they told me that up towards the mountains a small but dangerous troop of bandits were abroad. What did I care, save that it made an extra inducement to go into the neighbourhood of possible adventure. So in a day or two I travelled on inland, and one evening arrived at Santa Rosa, a picturesque village quite out of the usual track. " Tfound the whole place in a state of excitement and alarm. A young lady, the niece of the great iady of the neighbourhood, had that afternoon been somehow carried off by the brigands aforesaid. "By Jove, here is my chance," thought I, joyfully, and asked sufficient questions to prime myself if need be. It was a splendid moonlight night, and after mv early supper I told mine host carelessly that I would ride 1 ! out a bit and put up my horse myself

if he liked to retire at his usual time. Being a "mad Englishman" to him, he only smilingly acquiesced, and I soon rode off towards the mountains about two miles off, where the rascal Cibolla and his band had located themselves in some caves at the base of a gorge by which the pass led. "All serene," says I to myself, and when I neared the place described to me I started a careless old song, beginning • King Death was a rare old fellow, He sat where no sun could shine, And lifted his arm so yellow, With a draught of the coal-black wine. "The dodge, of course, succeeded. The unwary traveller — a "mad Inglese," of course — was quickly surrounded by a pack of armed scoundrels, who seemed to start out from the very crevices around. If I had depended on jiiv loaded six-shooter for freedom, or the rescue of Nina Clemente, I'm afraid it wouldn't have been of much use. " 'Dismount and surrender, signor,' said the leader, grimly polite, 'and you are safe until you are ransomed." "At your service, friend Cibolla,'' said I coolly, in perfect Tuscan; "but, as I dismounted, I fixed my eyes on the fellow's face and paused. I saw himsi\-i"t slightly, as if from a faint electnc shock, and while I gazed immovably he grew pale, shifted his foot, tried I could see, to shift his eyes from mine The banditti looked puzzled, then a trifle scared as a curious tremo-ir shook their leader. Even his lips grew white ; he trembled now visibly, and the dazed sort of glassy stare I knew so well of old began to come into his eyes. I heard the words — "mal occhio" — (evil eye) muttered by some of the men, but that was all well. Their intense superstitious belief in the power of the "evil eye" — a creed with the Neapolitans— aided my own hypnotic power. I never moved eyes or limbs, but silently willed my "subject" to speak. "He said slowly, like one in a dream or under somnambulism 'What then would the signor of Cibolla?" "I answered with quiet command 'Send your lieutenant at once to bring the Signorma Nina to me here.' "The hypnotised man turned to one of the now wondering, terror-stricken group, and gave the order. I knew they would obey him, and now fully believed me a sort of devil with wizard power — a better weapon than even my revolver, truly In less than ten minutes the messenger returned, escorting a young and very pretty girl '- bv Jove ! such a pretty creature? — and what

a light of hope flashed into her dark eyes as she saw me! " 'Oh, signor — ' she began, hurrying forward. " 'You are safe, signorina/ I said, taking her little hand. 'Now, friend Cibolla, retreat with your band to your fastnesses. Go!' "I really do believe that my beautiful charge, who clung mutely to my hand, half thought that I had magic power when she saw the whole troop at Cibolla's order — spoken in the same strange manner — meekly follow him up into the mountain. No wonder the Italian girl had never heard of such an experience before as this rescue from a pack of rascally bandits — without ransom or bloodshed. " 'Come with me to your home, signorina,' I said, swinging her to the saddle. 'You are safe with me.' What a look I got as I, too, mounted, and we rode off to Santa Rosa." "I suppose, old fellow," Carleton ended, laughingly, "that you don't need to hear the end of that adventure You asked if I were married? Yes, of course. Dine with us to-morrow, and be introduced to my beautiful wife, Nina."