THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LI, Issue 166, 4 July 1908, Page 3

THE STORYTELLER.

N., ; TTMRfCOHDED. (By CWs Sewell.) The thin mani hesitated, turned his face nervously left and rigtt, and made two steps forward The latest millimaire was proverbially careless. He was; American, but not of the artificial, mechanical Northern States variety. Ic was a Californian ot the Californians. There, where might is right, and man Jeals with man as the need arises, burglar alarms, watch-dogs, and even an ov<r-careful manipulation of locks are considered a little childish. The latest millionaire banked largely, but he also kept considerable sums haphazardly in bureaus and safes in his own opulent London Mansion. It was on record that twice policemen had aroused hup in the small hours to tell him that hi had left his study window unlatched, r It was also on record that he had laughed thereat, thrown a light curse at them, and a heavy tip, and told them he could look after himself, and a murrain, or something worse, be upon the knock-kneed pavementtrotter who dtfed to break his sanctuary. ''.. This being so, the thin man with cheeks which burnt very hotly beneath his black ciotJt mask, and lips which twitched, against the high turned-up collar of his seedy top-coat, was not so very surprisedito find a window not only unfastened, bit open a little way as well.

He pushed it wider and stole like a ihadow over the sill. In his hand he held a small dark lantern, but he managed it in an uncertain amateurish son «f way, so that it constantly cast shadows in the wrong places. At the top of the staircase which led into the massive Ml he paused. The place was in outer darkness—fict • sound but his own hurried breathing was discernible. The millionaire and his household were evidently in bed. Caution and a few agile movements and with luck the thin man would be out in the deserted road in ten minutes, his desperate mission accomplished. He tip-toed on, casting his weak rays on a danoing marble nymph which grinned uncannily down at him out of the dense blackness of the staircase.

On he went into the study—the room which he had watched and the position of which he had mapped out when he iad prowled round the mansion for three successive nights, spring. He stopped for an instant—held his breath—listened, and went in. He slipped over to a bureau which stood in a corner, and putting down, his lantern set himself to search systematically. And as he searched his long, thin fingers shook. "There's nothing there!" A voiee spoke suddenly out of the darkness at. his elbow—a soft, emphatic TOice—» woman's voice calm and arresting. He gave a convulsive start, and would have cried out hoarsely, but kept a check on himself.

Staring through the sockets of his mask he saw the shadowy outline of a woman's figure. She was thin and slight and young, and appeared to be wearing an opera cloak, with a hood drawn over her head and a veil of some thick material across her face.

A daughter—a niece of the house late home from a dance, perhaps—a plucky girl who would tackle him singlebanded and rise to the situation as only an, American woman can rise. So ran his thoughts. He stood up and turned the lantern away, so that the shadow should more entirely conceal his face. Possibly she hid a revolver beneath the cloak; American women are built that way. He felt suddenly impotent And feeble—the little pluck which death? had given him evanesced. TB. horrible impulse assailed him to burst into tears then and there, and to fall upon his knees and crave for mercy. "I—l beg your pardon," he began. He disguised his voice as much as possible, but coming muffled from his wraps it needed little disguise. "Don't apologise to me," the woman whispered. "why!" he asked, scarcely knowing what he said.

"Because I'm on the same errand," and she laughed a harsh laugh. "I'm a thief, too!" "Great heaven!" uttered the man in sheer surprise. "I've searched this room," she went on in a dead weary tone; "there's nothing ' —absolutely nothing here. I'd gone Into the drawing-room hoping for better luck, but my candle was blown out by a draught, and I'd left my matches in here.

6o I groped back, and then I saw your light, and I guessed what you were after. We'd better join forces and be systematic, hadn't ire? t's more sensible than quarrelling over it." "What do you mean!" he asked helplessly. This whispering, shrouded figure from the shadows frightened him—frightened him horribly, \ "You're new to this kind of work!" she asked.

"Yes, oh yes," be said, his sensitive face twitching under its hot covering. " I only mean to borrow —it's to save a lif«. I must have money—l " "Curious," she said, interrupting him, " mine is to save a life, too—the most precious life in the world; and I mean to pay back. It's no self-deceptive boast; if I work my fingers to the bone, I'll pay hack, so help me God!" "I know—l know," he said softly and Sympathetically, and suddenly his fear left him, and he felt curiously drawn to this fellow-criminal of his—the woman Whom despair and poverty had rendered as hopeless as- it had rendered him. Was it a beloved mother, he wondered, whose Chance of renewed health lay in the carrying out of this desperate extremity} or did a delicate sister's future perhaps hang on this night's work! Or maybe it was a lover! Her outline was so young and slight that, though he could, see no hint of her face, he decided it must be a lover. Will a woman, and A good woman (he felt sure in spite of everything that she was good) break laws human and divine save for the man she loves! It was a strange fate, he reflected, tharhad driven them together. An infinite pity welled into his heart. He felt at all costs he must protect her—must show her again, though her instinct had already discovered it, that he was no common maraudermust tell her his pitiful tale, and must hear hers. " This darkness stifles me," he breathed. "There are plenty of electric lights —can't we turn, on some!"

"No," she answered, "it would not be safe; besides, I would rather you never saw me, just as I am sure you would really rather I never saw yon. The world is small—we might meet again—we "might " "Come, then," he muttered, cutting short her sentence, " there's no time to lose; we must go elsewhere." He took up his lantern, and walking very softly before her, reached the door. . Click—cliclc! In a second the whole room radiated .with dazzling light! The housebreakers were too blinded for the first moment to see that in the doorway stood the short, thick-set figure of a man.

His eyes gleamed under bushy brows. He smiled an unpleasant smile of victory. And in his right hand he held a | «volver. "So," he said slowly, and his voice was rough with the burr of the Southern States, "the police do not exaggerate the lawlessness of this astonishingly pious community. So you bring your women up to burgle here—wall it's a new idea."

The two burglars were so entirely flumfotmdered that for a short space there was a dead and absolute silence. They stood blinking and peering before 1 them and trying to see their accuser.' Then, all at once, acting on impulse, the woman threw herself on her knees. "For the love of Heaven and the mother who bore you," she implored, "listen!"

"Wall" "I wanted money—wanted it as no woman ever wanted it before."

"They mostly dew, I ser'pose," the little man said dryly—" drive on." "My little child's life—my only childdepended on fifty paltry pounds. She ! s JJwperately ill, but' a certain course of treatment' costing fifty pounds would cure her. Without that treatment she ■will die. My husband is a journalistbe has been unfortunate. We have nothing—my friends couldn't help me: we live near you, and I could sec this window from our lodgings; and often and. often I've watched you easting money about so carelessly. You cannot realise what it was, 6ir, when so little I would have made all the difference between hope and despair to us." "Git along with the narrative, young •woman; don't let's have any flourishes." * Yes—yes— l will. A3 the child grew -worse, it became a hideous temptation. and to-day I reached the climax! That's ■the truth, sir; don't charge me. or my ■child will die, without me—don't '' And then even as she snoke the thin man sprang suddenly to her. He lmd •stood back shaking and confused, whit-' •he had been telling her tale. He cried: •"Marv!"

She drew .-back, fiferow do you know my name?" jg. ; . He took off his mask and threw hH arms around her. -'Look!" he cried! "It was for the child I came, too. t left you watching, and I thought silielyj and I came because I was desperajSt I'd watched this window as wclP-it seemed the only way." She put a sliaking hand on His shoulder, searched his face and understood. " Fred, how could I know, how could I suspect!" she gasped. The millionaire still held his revolver, and still he smiled disagreeably. "Seems I've struck a pretty average cool gang this time," he remarked, " with no limelight ellccts left out. I'll get you to spin that yarn to a constable if'you've no objection." i The man threw his head back with a little gesture of amazed pride. His arm was still round his wife. Somehow, even though in this most desperate situ- i ation, it had ncve v struck him that his ' word could be doubted.

" It's true," he said, " every syllabi-:, and we only meant to borrow; before God, we only meant to borrow—for the child."

" Say, that kid's kinder useful, isn't it?" said the millionaire dryly. "I'd like to see it."

His sneer was entirely thrown away on the woman. She took him at his word.

"Will you come?" she said, "Oh! will you? It's only a few steps—one of those lodgings at the back there. Hoid your revolver to our backs if you're afraid we'll escape, only come." There was that in the woman's face as she made this request which the most finished actor on earth might emulate in vain. It carried such irresistible conviction that the millionaire lowered the muzzle of his weapon at once. J "I'm darned if 1 don't!" he said. He herded them both out of the room, and made a pretence of buttoning the revolver in his coat. In reality, when their backs were turned he softly laid it down on a table.

. Upon a kind but distracted neighbournho watched the pale face of a child and listened, quite unable to arrest its whimpering cries, broke the unexpected vision of the child's parents, with a strange, short, thick-set man of wcatherlieaten appearance following. At first the neighbour thought he was another doctor, which the mother had fetched as a foriorn hope. The child opened heavy eyes, and stretched out its arms directly they entered. I

"Oh! Slummie—l'se wanted you soOh! Mummie, stop ze pain—go 'waj man."

The last part of the sentence referred to the sudden appearance by the bedside of the short thick-set stranger. The short thick-set stranger did not answer, but remained for some time gazing down at tiic mite's face. "Go 'way, man," said the little girl feebly again; and then, seeing something, maybe that it is not given save to the clear vision of perfect" innocence to see, she suddenly stretched out a small weak hand. Too' man," she said in a different voice. There was dead silence in the room.

And then the miracle happened, whicl was none the less a miracle because i' took the commonplace form of two slo-i large tears which splashed down tin hard cheeks of the latest millionaire.

"What's the damage*" he asked fierce ly of the child's father as he timidly touched the child's hand with lusL.rongli forefinger.

" It's her heart," the father lohl him miserably; "there's some treatment in a foreign spa that would cure her—if she could be taken there within the next fortnight. The doctor said at her ago it's a certain cure, if great care can be taken on the journey."

Tb« latest millionaire loosed the child's hand very gently, and extracting a pocket-book from some inner recess of himself counted twenty five-pound notes down on the table.

" I had a kid once, 'bout the same age," he said; "before my luck came, it was. There was no one anxious to chuck

these kinder things at me, and 1 hadn't the dern'd pluck to go an'—an'—help myself to 'em, so she died. Your n.Mld won't die now, I take it. Good-nigvc!" He stumped away without another word and was gone before her father could recover himself sufficiently to answer hitn —gone before the motaer could lay the child back on the top pillow and follow him—gone, banging the door after him.

The neighbour, who, like all neighbours, had her share of curiosity, could suppress it no longer. -She tied on her bonnet and made ready to leave. "A very oprn-'anded gent," she remarked as she wriggled into a seedy black jacket. " I auppusj: he's an old friend?" ■ The man and woman looked at eacfi other across their child's bed. i "'Er—not exactly," they said. I