Fortune and Mr. Leskiamos

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 857, 28 December 1929, Page 4

Fortune and Mr. Leskiamos

(SHORT STORY)

:By

P. L. Conigrave

•\TR. MIKEL LESKIAMOS did not marry until he had taken possession o£ his mansion in Mayfair. In his youth he had lived in poverty and squalor in Whitechapel, and had helped his father in a strange business, which consisted of dealings in old clothes, cheap jewellery, and a variety of other articles, which were sold to all kinds of unwashed people in a filthy little shop near Petticoat Lane. But he had had ambitions even then. He hated the sordidness of his surroundings and the uncouthness of his companions, whose easy contentment with their lot aroused in him a deep disgust, and a determination to escape from them. He took hardly any interest in their doings, and spent most of his spare time in what he would have described, if anybody had asked him, as improving himself. He was no fool. He could drive a bargain with any man, and he perceived early that if he was to get on in the world he would need money, and that the only way in which he could possess money in any quantity would be to save what he already had. So he stinted himself in everything, and by the time he was twenty-five he had enough money to begin a business of his own. He did not remain in Whitechapel. He made his first move westward into small premises in the area near that great centre of commerce bounded by Gracechurch and Fencliurch streets, where, in a humble way, he engaged in merchandise. The years passed, bringing with them days of greater and still greater prosperity. From his small lodgings in the eastern part of the city, Mr. Leskiamos made a further step westward, finding quarters more to his liking and comfort in Bloomsbury. By this time he had become a man of considerable substance, and he had dealings with many parts of the world. Ambition still urged him, and having amassed a small fortune, he decided that he would set up his own household. So he continued his march of progress westward and bought the mansion in Mayfair. It was a proud day for Mr. Leskiamos when he took possession of his mansion. Despite his origin, Mr. Leskiamos was a man of some refinement, although if one had studied hiip closely he would have found that his refinement was largely superficial. He could not altogether hide a certain

vulgarity in his manner and his outlook. But he cultivated a taste in art and music and the theatre, and spent large sums in decorating his mansion. His views concerning art were sanely modern, and his collection of pictures was well chosen. Having established his household Mr. Leskiamos decided that he would complete it by finding himself a wife. He was essentially a business man, and he set about the business of acquiring a wife much in the same way as he would have sought to. acquire any other property. For that was how he subconsciously regarded a wife—a companion, if you like, but fundamentally a piece of property. Would not a wife help him to attain social prestige? Having attained business prestige, social prestige was the next most desirable step on the ladder. In due course Mr. Leskiamos found a wife in Lydia Nasmenz. Lydia was . a musician—an accomplished pianist. She had attained some eminence in her profession, and her playing had always won her favourable criticism in the Press. Mr. Leskiamos had several times attended her recitals, and had been attracted by he art no less than by her personality. He met her for the first time at the artists’ fancy dress carnival at Albert Hall. For, being a man of substance and a patron of the arts, he was well known among the makers of pictures. He entertained them at his mansion, and he took part in many of their social activities. The fact that he was a hard-headed business man did not prevent him from displaying what he regarded as the Bohemian side of his nature on occasions. He went to the artists’ carnival disguised as Mephistopheles. Somehow, he thought, there as a fascination about the cynical swagger of the traditional Mephistopheles, who was a thorough-going tac tician and man of affairs. Mr. Leskiamos was not at all like the legendary Mephistopheles. He was a short man, inclined to stoutness, and it. has not been observed that the features of Mephistopheles betray any Hebraic tendencies. It may be, however, that it is not a man’s personal appearance that determines his character . but the thoughts and impulses that lie in his soul. By a strange chance Lyia appeared at the carnival dressed as Marguerite. Mr. Leskiamos met her before the guests had unmasked, and he had several dances with her before he learned who she was. That was the beginning of many meetings, for Lydia and he discovered that they were interested in the same things. She was often a guest at his parties, sometimes at his mansion in Mayfair, and at other times at one or other of the fashionable hotels and night clubs. Lydia was about ten younger than Mr. Leskiamos, but his attentions were not unacceptable to her, and, after all, though he had certain defects, he was wealthy and of good position, and it is not every woman who can live in a mansion in Mayfair. But Lydia bided her time. She had no intention of throwing herself at Mt. Leskiamos. He was a business man, but she was a business woman. Her instinct told her that the valuable things are those which are not obtained easily. So when Mr. Leskiamos proposed to her she feigned deep surprise, but she told him that his offer would need consideration. What would become of her career if she married and settled down in a mansion in Mayfair? Throughout his progress from the sordidness of Whitechapel to the mansion in Mayfair Mr. Leskiamos had always got what he wanted, and it was not to be supposed that, wanting Lydia, he would not eventually break down her opposition. In the end he did this, and she became his wife and the mistress of his household. After their marriage the mansion in Mayfair became the scene of many brilliant gatherings. At their parties were assembled artists, singers, actors, writers of vers libres, novelists, and even peers of the realm. Mr. Leskiamos was surely achieving social distinction! As time went on Lydia found that

Ehe liked her position, and the mansion in Mayfair, but she was not sure that she liked so much Mr. Leskiamos. Their marriage had never been one of affection, and many of their guests were far jollier friends than her husband. Mr. Leskiamos, being a man of acute perception, had not failed to notice the development of Lydia’s feelings. But business affairs did not always run smoothly, and how could one expect a marriage to be perfection? He bore his lot with patience and with considerable gratitude tor the favours he had received from the well-disposed guides of his fortunes. He would probably hawe been contented if it had not been for Tony Wellington. Tony was a year or two younger than Lydia. He was the only son of a wealthy stockbroker, who had died five years after Tony’s mother, and left him a large inheritance. Tony had an income which allowed him to do anything he pleased, and he had become one of the liveliest members of the circle of people who visited the mansion in Mayfair. He had a house, although not a mansion, in the most select part of Sloane Street. Mr. Leskiamos had for some time been disturbed by Tony’s attentions to Lydia. And he had been more disturbed by Lydia’s apparent interest in Tony. Tony and Lydia were often together in the day time, and for several weeks Lydia had been absent until late at night. She had given different explanations on different occasions, but they had not always been satisfactory to her htlsband. Soon his annoyance at her absences from home developed into suspicions—that she and Tony were engaged in an intrigue. He was not naturally suspicious, but he could not suppress his doubts concerning Lydia. Sitting alone one night in a large chair in a large room in his mansion, he began to reflect on various inci-

dents that had occurred, and he decided that he would have Lydia watched. The thought repelled him at first, but he gradually became possessed with a desire to learn the truth if possible—either to prove that

Lydia was carrying on only a harmless flirtation, or else that she was engaged in a more serious affair. With this determination in mind, he went up to his bedroom, and had been in bed two hours or so before Lydia came home. She told him that she had been to the Harlequin night club with Dorothy Jordan and some other friends. "Perhaps?” thought Mr. Leskiamos, as he turned over and shortly afterward fell asleep. Next morning, instead of being driven to his office by his chauffeur, he decided to walk down to Piccadilly and to travel the remainder of the way by bus. “I have some business to do in Regent Street,” he explained to Lydia. But it was not to Regent Street that he went. Twenty minutes or so after he had left home he was closeted with a shifty-looking, smooth-tongued individual, whose brass plate on the door of his small secretive room announced that he was an inquiry agent. Mr. Leskiamos took an intense dislike to the man as soon as he saw him, and he almost decided that he would not proceed with his intention. How could he ask such a horrible looking person to spy on his wife? But he thought it would probably be difficult to find an attractive member of such a profession, and he had to relieve his doubts somehow. He informed the man of his suspicions, gave him his address, and instructed him to begin his investigations immediately. Then he continued his journey to his office, telling the agent to communicate with him there. A fortnight passed—a mdnth —and six weeks. On several occasions Lydia went out at night and did not return until late. Two or three times she and her husband went together to the theatre, to supper at the Ritz, or to a cabaret. When Mr. Leskiamos was with her on these occasions he felt ashamed of himself, and reflected that he was a cur to have a low-down villain, as the agent probably was, following her about from place to place. He made himself very pleasant to his wife, and she returned his friendliness to a certain extent, although he could not help feeling that a barrier had grown up between them. He might have ordered the agent to stop his spying if an incident had not occurred in the drawing-room of his mansion one night about two months after he had first called upon the agent* The fellow had not discovered anything to incriminate Lydia, anyhow, although he had told him that he and a companion watched his house every night, and followed Lydia whenever she went out. But Mr. Leskiamos’s car, in which Lydia rode, always went to a theatre or a night club or some other address which Mr. Leskiamos recognised as that of one of her woman friends, and, after calling for her, took her straight back home. The incident in the drawing-room occurred while Tony was visiting them —or visiting Lydia, as Mr. Leskiamos could not help thinking. Tony had always irritated him lately, but he irritated him metre than ever on this evening. Mr. Leskiamos had had a worrying day. There had been some trouble over a large shipment of spices from Zanzibar, and there was a possibility that hes would suffer serious loss. To make matters worse, Everard, his chief clerk, on whom he had grown to rely greatly, had been taken ill, and there had been a problem with the bank concerning drafts which needed straightening out. It was all very worrying. Lydia was seated at the grand piano playing Chopin’s Nocturne Opus 48 No. 1 in C minor, and, as her fingers passed over the keys and the lovely melody was gradually unfolded, Mr. Leskiamos began to feel almost comforted and at peace with the world. Then, as the music rose in a series ■ of single notes to the faintly heard C and descended to the three soft final chords, there was a deep silence. This was peace indeed, thought Mr. Leskiamos! The silence was broken by Tony, who was so impressed by the beauty of Lydia’s playing that he murmured “Wonderful! Heavenly!” He rose from the lounge and, walking across to Lydia, stood behind her, and placed his hands on her shoulders. “That was ” he said, in an agitated voice. But he never finished the sentence. This display of familiarity was too much for Mr. Leskiamos. It was not peace, indeed. It was hell! Hell, to see this young pup taking liberties with his wife in front of his own eyes. Almost springing from his chair, he rushed at Tony and knocked

his hands from Lydia’s shoulders. “You rotten devil,” he shouted. "Leave her alone. Leave her alone, I tell you!”

Tony turned round amazed, and his face was white. He began to stutter something incoherently, but Lydia, standing up and remaining perfectly ealm, addressed her husband, “Mikel,” she said, you forget yourself. Y’ou are disgusting.” “Forget myself, do 1?” screamed Mr. Leskiamos. "It is you who forget yourselves. I have had enough of it. lam not going to have him hanging round here making love to you.”

“You have mis began Tony } but Lydia interrupted him. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mikel,” she said, “you don't know w r hat you are saying.”

“I know enough to tell this parasite here to get out of my house. Get out,” he ordered Tony. “Get out, and leave my wife alone in future.”

“I am sorry, l.y<iia,” said Tony. “The man's an imbecile. What shall I do? I suppose ” “I think you had better go," said Lydia, who was beginning to lose control of herself.

“Yes, you had better go,” added Air. Leskiamos, “and be quick about it, too!”

Tony looked at Mr. Leskiamos, then at Lydia. He hesitated a moment before walking out into the hall. A moment later the front door closed with a crash. Lydia collapsed on to the lounge, her face covered in her hands, laughing hysterically. It was a week after this that Mr. Leskiamos’s office boy went into his room with a message that a gentleman wished to see him. The gentleman was admitted. It was the inquiry agent, who was smiling blandly and triumphantly. “We have got them,” he told Mr. Leskiamos. “Got them beautifully. We have all you want to get a divorce.” He gave Mr. Leskiamos an account of happenings on the previous night in Tony’s house, in Sloane Street, which confirmed his suspicions definitely. “Smithson and I followed her there together, and it is no good their denying anything,” the agent added.

Mr. Leskiamos felt sick. He took out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead. “Thank you,” was all he said. “I will let you know what to do later.”

After the man had left Mr. Leskmmos decided that he would begin divorce proceedings immediately. He would show tlum that they could not fool him.

Caught like rats in a trap, from what the agent had told him! He chuckled gleefully. He would see his solicitor tomorrow. He -would fix things up for him. At dinner that night Lydia was surprised at her husband’s joviality. He had been so morose since he had ordered Tony from the house, and had hardly spoken to her. She, in her turn, had almost disregarded him. The servants, she pondered, must have wondered what had happened in the last week or so. Doubtless the noise and Tony’s sudden loud departure had caused much gossip in the kitchen. After dinner Mr. Leskiamos left the table, and went into the drawing room alone. Several minutes later he heard Lydia giving an order to the chauffeur on the telephone. She w-ent upstairs. Presently the frontdoor bell rang, and she came downstairs. Without speaking to him she passed out of the front door, which the butler had opened, to the car. To Mr. Leskiamos, as the night wore on, suddenly came the thought that he might be foolish in obtaining a divorce from Lydia. Would It not be the end of all he had worked for, the end of his household, the end of his social prestige? For he would make it that. And would he not be laughed at as the man who was so unattractive that he could not hold his wife? He, who had always held everything, and after he had got what he wanted had always kept it! That would be the deepest humiliation for him—who had never been humbled. He w-ould have to think it over. He would have a talk with Lydia in the morning or tonight when she came in. He would tell her that he knew everything, but was willing to forget it provided that she did not see Tony any more. He would be definite on that point. If he could forget w r hat had happened, she w-ould have to forget Tony, and give him up for ever.

When Mr. Leskiamos looked at his watch it was after midnight. He felt tired, but contented. He had decided w-hat to do. He would not wait for Lydia. What he had to say would keep. He would have a talk with her tn the morning. He sw-itched out the light, and went to his room. Soon he was in bed, and he lay for a time thinking of Lydia. She was somewhat wilful and irresponsible, and needed stern handling. But they had had some good times together. Poor Lydia! Perhaps he could have done more for her, but he did not think he had been unkind, to her. Poor Lydia! Poor Lydi—! Poor Lyd—! Poor Ly—! He was asleep.

In the morning Mr. Leskiamos woke more determined than ever to forgive Lydia. It would be foolish for a man to let his anger get the better of him. It would be no good spoiling fiis life because his wife had been unfaithful to him. He would show Lydia that he could be generous. The thought gave him a complacent feeling of self-righteousness. He would go to Lydia’s toom and see her now. He got out of bed. T he front door bell rang sharply. He heard a movement, and the drawing back of a latch. Then there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs. Three soft taps were struck on his door. Come in,” he called. The butler entered, carrying something on a tray. “A telegram, sir," lie said. "What, as early as this?” Mr. Leskiamos replied. ‘Yes, sir,” added the butler laconically. Then: “I thought I had better bring it up, sir.” Air. Leskiamos took the envelope and tore it open. He unfolded the telegram. “Am not coming back,” he read. “Am going away with Tony this morning.” The time of lodgment of the telegram showed as two o’clock.

From the “Australasian.”