A Strange Autobiography.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVII, Issue 8018, 3 January 1906, Page 4

A Strange Autobiography.

A good many years ago two young men were prospecting for gold. They met with Incredible luck, and in less than a year had wade their pile. One day they went together on a shooting expedition. The younger of the two, Phil Mason, was accidentally shot by his companion, and badly wounded. For some hours Phil was tenderly nursed by his companion, and then he fell asleep. When he awoke he was alone. At first he could not believe he had been deserted, but as the hoars passed the horrible troth Bank into his mind. He had been left to die. The agony of thirst and the pain of his wounds made him delirious. To relate what he suffered would only provide gruesome ending; and, after all, it is past and done with these forty years and more. Besides, the subject is to me a peculiarly distasteful one, for I was Phil Mason, though I am known by quite another name to-day; and the horror of those lonely hours of torment filled my soul with a bitter hate that lasted five and twenty yean. •.Enough, then, to say that I was resoued by a black fellow, and that a fortnight latei I was back among men, able to get about, though only a shadow of my former self. On making inquiries, I found that my chum had oleared out of the country, taking with him our united savings. Penniless and weak In health, I could not' follow him, and when some months later I had got a little money together, all tram of him had disappeared. A, So the years passed in this endleM quest, T interrupted by spells of hard toil. 3 Then one day, after five and twenty years, i the knowledge which I had sought sohungri- w ]y came to me by accident <f A careless conversation, overheard by a mere chance, told me the present name and habitation of the man who had wronged me. It was nearly 10 o'olook at night when I ~ presented myself at the door of the hand- 4 soma residence of Arnold Orange, the emi- J nent banker. «? Mot tor a moment did I anticipate any < trouble in obtaining an interview. The man would not dan to send me away; >• I was right In a few moments the old v butler returned and conducted me to his master. f I fotmd myself in a large, richly furnished room, lighted only at the further end by a shaded electric lamp on a big open desk oov- t, ered with papers. f the desk stood a man with his head turned towards me, bnt I oould not at first see his face. Quietly I walked across the room to him, and for a moment we oonfront- , ed each other in silense. —-i Prosperity had changed him, even as ad. }, venity had changed me. ii For one thing, he did not look his years, f. He oould have passed for forty-five, and yet I knew he must be well over fifty. He wore a well trimmed beard and mons- * tache and his skin was white. When I had .jj known bim he was dean shaven and deeply .< bronzed. f " You do not recognise me, Tom Warner," l I said at lengthy addressing him by his old name. He kept a bold front, but I thought ' I detected a lurking fear in his eyes.- a " It is long sinoe we met," he said in low 1 tones. i "Long, indeed 1" I replied with a bitter j laugh. "It is twenty-five years since you j left me, a wounded lad, to die of thirrt in 1 the mountains. Twenty-five years since you lobbed me of the gold I had worked and sweated for I" J He fidgeted nervously, but offered no de-1 fence, no excuse. A "But I have hunted you down at last, ■ Tom Warner—or Mr. Arnold Grange, if you ; prefer that. I have hunted you down, and by heaven you shan't escape me now 1" "Isee—a case of blackmail 1" ha said coolly. 0} took a step towards him, and I think the look in my eyes frightened him. " There, there 1" he said hastily. " We need not quarrel. The past is dead. Let's forget it. Come and Bee me to-morrow and we will go into figures. Meanwhile here is something to go on with 1" He took from his pocket a thick roll of Dotes and counted me oat £IOO. I<ook the notes and recounted them. " Thank you," I said as I placed them in my pocket. "I will call upon 70a to-mor-row ; but understand this, I shall not be satisfied with a farthing less than the half of youi fortune. If you try to rob me, by heaven the whole world shall know your story I" "You can trust me," he replied coolly. " I know when I am beaten. Can you find yoy* own way out?" Hmething in his voice aroused my suaand I turned on him fiercely. "What is your game?" I said furiously. "What vile plan are you concocting in that devilish brain of yours? " " My dear fellow " he began. But I Cut him short. " Call your butler," I stud sternly, " and tell him in my presence that I am your friend end that I am always to be admitted to your presence." "What is the use of that? I could easily (lay you false; but I assure " " Never mind; do what I tell you I" I commanded, his reluctance making me more determined. tije laughed, but I could see he was bervous and distraught. " Very well," he said; but I will do even better than that. I will call my secretary, and you shall tell him whatever you please." He walked round tbe desk to a baize-cover-ed swing-door, which apparently opened into another room. "Mr. Courtney./ One moment if you please I " he said, pushing the door open. There was no answer, and, with an ejaculation of impatience the banker stepped into the inner room and the door swung to behind him. He did not immediately reappear as I had expected. "Well, I will wait," I said grimly. And 101 walked np and down the long room for nearly ten minutes. Then, losing patienoe, I pushed upon the green door and found myself in a little anteroom. It was empty. - There was no otheAloor, and the window, which, as in the room I had left, over-looked the square, was shut and fastened with a patent lock. Unquestionably I was in the room alone. I went to and pressed the button #f an electric bell. I was in no mood to be trifled with, and I determined to get to the bottom of the mystery without delay. Almost immediately a gentlemanly young fellow made his appearance. " You rang, sir," he began. And then, catching sight of me, he paused and stared with open mouth. " Kindly tell Mr. Orange I am still waiting and must see him at once," I said. " But Mr. Grange should be here!" said the young man in astonishment. " Well, you see he is not," I retorted irritably. " Ten minutes ago he disappeared through that door and I haven't seen him since." " But that is impossible 1" persisted the young man. "There is no other door in that room 1" "'"ell, he is not here, is he? Perhaps you will be good enough to find out where he Is. •atay," I added, as an afterthought, " perhaps I shall not trouble him any mora < fejigfa) '• fest kilto tell tin tort I mil «U

to-morrow morning at 10 o'clock precisely! when I shall expect to see him.'' , After all, I had the £IOO, and the mart - was really in my power. Perhaps his nerves had given way. I would give bint a dozen hours' respite. I went to pass out of the room, but the young fellow stood in my path and courteously but firmly objected. "You will exouße me, Bir, but I do not know you, and I do not understand why you are here alone in Mr. Grange's room." " Have I hot told you that Mr. Grange left me ten minutes ago ?" For reply the other turned to the door and called for assistance. In a few seconds a couple of footmen made their appearance. "What's up Mr. Courtney?" demanded one. " Probably it is all right,'' said the secretary quietly. " Has anyone seen Mr. Grange?" No one had. He came to this room after dinner, as was the custom, and bad not been seen to leave it since. The old butler stated that he had seen his master here at 10 o'clock when he had announced Ime. It was nearly 11. - • • ■*? ' •«£•..•«*> \ " Search the room 1" said Mr. Courtney, keeping a wary eye upon me. «'<* > The butler, the two footmen and the valet, who had now appeared, began the search with grave, alarmed faceß. * I found myself watching the butler fussing about and looking in vases, drawers and other Impossible places. Suddenly he peered behind the soreen near the desk and then i Started back with a cry of horror. • S-. !'• A general rush was made to the spot, the J icreen was thrust aside, and-there, lying full 4 length on the carpet, was the body of a man. ff The secretary sprang to the door and - F dosed it, and then gave his orders in quick, 1 level tones. "Bobbins, tell Dr. Wright to come at once, aud then go for the police. Parsons, White, secure this man and take oare he I does not get away 1" jU The next moment I' found myself seized p? and held by two sturdy footmen. ( Mr. Courtney switohed on some more light, and then, kneeling by the body, gently raised the unfortunate man's head. ' As I caught sight of the faoe I recognised it at once. Twenty-five years had altered it, f indeed, but it was the face of my old, treache- j ions ohum of the California gold fields. Who, then, was that other who had so ; mysteriously disappeared ? . \ f What followed is newspaper history. ' At the inquest it.was proved that Arnold 'Orange died from a blow from some instrument on the back of the bead. In due course I was committed for trial. J The police built up a terrific case against me. f. Indeed, the evidenoe they were able to obtain ji was enough to convince almost anyone. The bank notes found upon me were proved to be 'I part of a larger sum known to have been in the possession of the banker on the day of f) bis death. Furthermore, it was known—- ; and I admitted the fact—that Ihadagriev- , ance, real or imaginary, against Mr. Grange. & My own story was incredible to the point I of absurdity, and my counsel stronglyadvissd me to rely solely on the plea of insanity—- , insanity induced by the intolerable wrong 1 I had suffered at the hands of the dead man. I In the end I was found guilty, with a rei Commendation to mercy. |- I was sentenced to death, and the Governor, in spite of the rider to the jury's verdict, refused to see any reason why the sentence should not be carried out. I cannot honestly say that those days of waiting for J death by the hangman's rope which followed | my Sentence were the most wretched of mj J life. During the twenty-five years when I 1 had worked for revenge and my soul filled | with hate, I bad had many worse times. Now I knew my enemy was dead, and somehow the reason for my own continued existence seemed to have passed away also. If I did not welcome the awful end awaiting me, at any rate I did not dread it. ft However, fate—which has played such queer tricks with me in my time—seemed reluctant to lose such an amusing toy, and so, at almost the iast moment, intervened and saved me, doubtless for further experiments. I was to die on Friday. On the previous Monday, in the afternoon, I was taken to the room of tbe warden. That gentleman informed me that I was reprieved for one week, and at the same time warned me to build no false hopes on this temporary respite. • What had happened was this: On the night of the murder Arnold Grange wjs believed to have in his possession bank notes to the amount of £3OO. Of these only the £IOO found upon me had been accounted for. It was supposed that the banker had sent off the remainder in payment of some private debt, unknown even to his secretary. Now, however, a man had been caught trying to pass one pf the missing notes. He proved to be a man well-known to the police —Sol. Prior, a daring swindler, r He could give no satisfactory explanation of how he came into possession of the notes, and he was detained by the police. One day I was taken into the prison yard, where a score of men were ranged up in a line. I was asked if I knew any of them. I had no difficulty in picking out m y man. From that moment events moved quickly and a fortnight later I received a pardon. The wretched man Prior, stood his trial and was duly hanged, but before the end he left a callous confession. It was a brief document and may be given here. 9 "On July 14th was down on my luck, a promising piece of business having gone wrong. I was walking across Square when I noticed a window of one of the houses wide open. A light was burning inside, but the loom seemed to be empty. No one was about, so I climbed onto the stone coping and got into the room. Then I pulled down the blind. As I did so a man appeared from behind the screen and confronted me. I pretended to be drunk, but he was too shrewd. He said nothing, but caught me by the throat, and stretched out his left hand to ring the electric bell on his desk. I forced him away from it and then struck him as hard as 1 could on the point of the jaw. He staggered back and fell and his head struck on the marble kerb in front of the fire - place. I thought he was only stunned, but as I knelt down by him he just gave one groan and expired. I dragged tbe body behind the screen and made for the window, but just then the door opened and someone said that a Mr. Phil Mason desired to see me. The servant, an old man did not recognise me as I stood back in the shadow. To get rid of him I said, "Show him in." '-As luck would have it my voice did not betray me to the old man, and he went out. I went to tbe window again, but a policeman was just outside, talkiiig to a servant girl. Not knowing what to do, I turned back to the room, and at the same moment that maniac, Phil Mason came in. Again luck helped me. He took me for the banker at once. I saw my only chance was to blufi it. I tried all I could to get rid of the fellow, but he would not go. At last, on the pretext of fetching my secretary, I got away and went into the ante-room, but the window, was locked. I came back and found Mason walking up and down the room. While his baok was turned I managed to get to the window without being seen. I hid behind the curtain, andhe came within a yard of me. Then, when hi 3 back wns again turned, I slipped out of the window.* The policeman was gone and I got away without being seen. It is true 9 1 killed Arnold Gtanae, }ratl w;u an I (Wcidoui' 11 - ' . ' ./. f' " y