On The Back of an Envelope.

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 87, 31 January 1885, Page 5

On The Back of an Envelope.

I was living in a boarding-house in Sydney, let us say Go wer- street. I was one of seven, five males and two females. I was a bushman transplanted to town. How I came to bo there was simply from pure vanity. I had an idea that I was too good to be thrown away in the bush. Let it pass — it was years ago, and I was younger then and more foolish. lam only writing as a witness of the events that happened then. 1 was not an actor. Thero were five of us only whon I first pitched my camp in Goworstreet. Our hostess was of the usual " widowish" type. A portrait of the dear departed hung over the mantelpiece, and the regulation chairs and tables graced the other rooms with their well-known presence, and the daily moss was of the quantity und quality known to every sojourner in lodgings in Sydney. It was some six months after I had been domicilod in the lodgings that the strange things happened that lead j me to write this narrative As I said, I was young, vain, country-bred, and labouring under the mistaken delusion that I only wanted a fair show amongst my fellow-men to como to the fore. It was a vain delusion. I had just come to that conclusion when two new boarders entered our soloct little assembly. I was then a clerk in a woolbrokor's office— l may as well state my social status. The new coiners were man and wife, Mr and Mrs Tuckett. She was good-looking, and we — viz., the old boarder? ; —all admired her. I need scarcely siy wo all disliked him. Now, lam not going to describo Mr and Mrs Tuckott. Let me abide by my former description, that he was the Beast and sho the Beauty. Also that their room was underneath mine ; and, owing to the scandalous way in which cheap hou&esare run up in Sydney, I got the benefit of a good deal of conversation not meant for alien ears. I could not help it. I vow on my honour that I often stuffed tho bedclothes in my cars until suflbcation was imminent, but through it all I heard ! I heard ? The first thing I heard was about half- past ton one night, and then I heard the Bea&t say in a gruif tone— "Bring me fcho boot-jack." "Would not any other Jack suit you, dcarV said a sott \oico in persuasive accents. "Ha !" I hoard, ground through clenched teeth ; " you daro to play upon that hated name ! But no matter — my time will come." Then I heard a heavy sigh, and naught but whispered inuttcrings. What could it mean '{ Bribson was not the man meant : his Christian names were " Vane 11 arcourt," at least ho said so. Who was this hated Jack ? I was soon to find out. It was a week after this that in mounting the stairsto my room i saw a used envelopo lying on the landing. I picked it up. It \ui--directed to "J. C. Tuckett, Esq." But that was not all. On the back was pencilled the following awiui memo : "He dies at five." When 1 descended to dinner I looked to see some mark of coming trouble on tho features of the Beauty or the Beavt. There wns none. Unblushingly he glanced around and indulged in his usual remarks. Uncon&ciou&ly she looked at her plate, and drove us all frantic with her detracting beauty. Perhaps it was live in the morning when the tragedy was to take place. I made up my mind to wake and w atch. I noted Bribson, our groat masher, that evening. JJo was c-ilm outwaidly, but tho evidence of a Numbering volcano wasapparent beneath that tight stiff collar. I dared not take him into my confidence, for he had often told me of the \ iolenco of his temper when rendered uncontrollablo by of unredrestscd wrongs. And 1 thought it would not be f-afo to let him know what was about to happen. There might be two victims instead of ono. Meantime who was "Jack"'? I examined the envelope again and again, but beyond seeing that it was in a man's handwriting could get no further clue. "He dies at five" I muttered as I went to bed. "I will see that ho doe? not " was the solemn oath I administered to myself. That night I heard voiced a^ain. The Brute said — " Has Jack como yet ?" The Beauty said, "No, I have not seen him." "Then bring mo my poison," said tho Beast, and I heard no more. Poison then was tho weapon to be resorted to, and how could 1 combat that ? I marie up my mind finally that I would seek Kribson and get advice from him. I .sought him— that is to say, I invaded the sanctity of his bedchamber. lam sorry to have to relate that he was lying on hi& back, snoring great guns, and looking as little like a " masher" as anybody could. I felt rather nervous about awaking him, for foar he would on the impulse of the moment ily at my throat and strangle me. However, 1 touched him and slid — "Wake up, old man. I have something to say to you." Hewokeup, buthisfirstwordswereincoher ent. Homutteredfeomething about his watch being outside the door and his boot 3 under I the pillow ; beyond that I could make no ! sense of it. I aroused him thoroughly — in | fact, I shook him, regardless of danger, until he sat up and was able to converse with me rationally. Then the whole nature of the man awoke. I had always regarded him as a humbug connected with the little love affairs, but I must say that under present circumstances ho behaved like a man. After I had told him all I dreaded and suspected, ho got up, sought after an ancient foil he had in his possession, and which, as he said, his great grandfathor had fought two duels with. With this in his hand, and, to tell a true story, a short and =canty night raiment, he solemnly assured me that no harm should bo dono under that roof that night whilst he lived and wore a sword. I remember his shitting his foil from his right hand to his left, and shaking : me by the hand saying — S " Rely on me, old follow. Just you go to sleep, and I'll see that no mischief happens. " Then I left. I was frightened that he might hurt himself with the foil ; but he assured me that there was a button on Oie end of it, and subsided into bed calmly embracing it. I retired — not exactly comforted, but still hoping that nothing desporato would happen , I listened anxiously foi several hours, but heard no sound of strife, and finally fell into a deep slumber until the birds aw oke me in the early morning. Then the terrors of the day flashed upon me. Jack was to be poisoned at five. Was it now five or half-past ? I was un- 1 certain which. Providentially it was only ten minutes to live, I made up my mind to go down and see Bribson. He would probably be awake and on the watch with his deadly foil. What were my feelings as I stole down the stairs ? Could Mrs Tuckett have an old sweetheart of the name of Jack ? Could the Brute or the Beast (for by each name was ho known) have got to feel a jealous hatred that nothing but blood would quench ? Should Ibe tho means of rescuing a fellow-creature from a violent death impending 1 I stole softly downstairs ; as softly I knocked at Bribson 's door, and was rewarded by the appearance of that warrior, armed and ready. We waited. In fact, we waited hours, We heard the "boots" come up and collect the boots. We heard him bring them back again, We listened and waited. No signs

of bloodshed, no poison. At last the breakfast boll rang. Then we agreed to go and dress. We descended to the breakfast room, looking hurt and gloomy. Mr and Mrs Tuckett were in their usual places, looking —as always— Beauty and the Boast. Bribson was calmly silent—watching; but I knew now what a fearful volcano lay smouldering benoath. Jack^ apparently had not been killed— at least, if so, his death had i been noiseless. Wo had no facts to go upon J hitherto. Then a brilliant idea struck me. What if 1 confronted Tuckett with that letter which I felt aure was endorsed on the back in his own hand- writing ? I determined to do so. In my blandest manner I addressed the man whose life I felt was at my mercy. Bribson, like the man ho was, edged up n.nd stood roady for any emergency, with the foil of his grandfather in waiting. " Mr Tucker," I said, " is this your envolope, and do you know tho moaning of this memo, thereon ? " He looked at it — this man of iron nerve. Then he laughed. "Of course, 1 do. I droppod this on the stairs the other day, and havo boon rather put out by missing it. 1 was wondering who could have found it." " Sir," I said— and I trusted in that supreme moment I preserved the dignity of manhood— "can you daro to acknowledge the awful weight of crime conveyed by the notice on the back of that envelopo ?" " Certainly," ho replied. " What in the narao of fortune do you mean ?" I stared at him in awful horror at his guilt. 110 glanced at the cnvolope. " Jack dines at five," ho paid. Then he turned to me again. ' ' What is the meaning of tins 1" ho asked. "My old friend Jack Milson asks mo to dinner. I pencil a memo, on the back of the envelope, and you find it and calmly accuse nic of some awful eriino. What do you understand ?" • I think I'll draw a veil over tho rest of this story, but 1 wish people would write a little plainer. —" Prize Tit-bits."