FORGOTTEN

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LI, Issue 270, 7 November 1908, Page 4

FORGOTTEN

It was night.'a dark, drearv night, in Paris. In a small, hare room on the sixth floor, a man was seated, his head buried in his hands, thinking -thinking. Striving with every effort of iiiiud airl iKidv to recall a forgotten name. Sometimes !„• sprang to his feet, and paced the. Hoof in his unavailing struggle to force back the thing that so pcrsi-!-entlv escaped hint: then he sank ba-k into' his old position, in utter mi-en and despair. lie tried to think it calmly out. Wait, wait, while he traces back the pa-l. step bv step. Five years ago-only live years, lie then held a good position in a l-'rcnch banking house. He was trusted by the linn, and kept the book—that made it easy. Voimg. reckless, extravagant., and a gambler, he was s uo n in desperate straits for money. lie took some bonds, falsilicd the hook-, and was not di-eovered. (Irowing bolder, he a|>propriated tni~l fund- : Once more: lie most only try once more: a grand -cheme. which would enable iiiin to restore all lie had borro.veil. lint the plan failed: the fraud was discovered; he had twentv four hours' start, and he lied from Paris that, night, carrying, the securities with him. What could he do with Iheni? lie dared not keep them on him. Already the police were ou hi; track.

One chance was before him, and he seized it madly. lie ■found a notary's olhce in an obscure street in Paris. He told the man I he was going to travel; would he abroad some time-two or three years, prob- [ ably, lie wished to leave"some valtti able papers in Ids charge. How well he remembered that night! It seems to rise before him now. A small, dark-panelled room, a spare, clean-shaven man speaking. /•Certainly; it is unite simple. Monsieur has but to sigh a paper, giving his securities into my care. They will be kept safe till lie' returns to'claim thcjn." In his haste he dashed down, the first name that occurred to him. and lied from Paris. The Fates were against him. lie was caught, tried, and condemned. Five years' penal servitude for forgery and fraud. All through' those dreamy years tin thought of the money, sale and waiting for him, kept him from utter d.spair. Two days ago his release had com,,; he had returned to Paris and sought the notary's ollice. "Did lie'remember the transaction.'' •'Certainly. All was correct. .Monsieur's papers were ready for him. Oir.y a mere formality remained—just to sign the necessary papers withdrawing the securities."

But the name?" What had he written live years before 1 Try as lie would, he could not recall it. He had made a hasty excuse to the man. He had been travelling ay nigiu ; he felt ill. faint; he would go out for half an hour, (hen return to complete the transaction. He had come back to this lonely room, and was alone with his despair. Unable to keep still, he strode across to the window. The gay world ot Pa"is lay below him; the mingled sounds of traffic and hum of distant voices came to him. The dark clouds were' passing, the moon was rising over the city. The walls cast deep shadows on the pathway, but a faint silver streak in the distance showed him where the river lay.

There was a fortune waiting for him, but he could not claim it. What was the use of life to him now? Hours passed away; it was near midnight now. The noise of the great city was dying away. The moon was mounting, its light grew stronger; .the silver streak in t!i3 distance was broadening. The river! There, at any 1 rate, he would find peace, rest; oblivion!

He was out in the darkness now, flying for his life once more; but this time the grim gaolc,- Dep.th is hot upon his track, and gaining on him fast. He stands on the banks of the river, lifting his face to the heavens above him. "The name—the liamje I liave forgotten! Oh, great God, give it hick to me, if only for a moment! In mercy, let me remember!" No answer—none! The darkness seems to enfold him, and silence to mock at his despair. With a wild cry he throws himself forward. The waters close over his head—down, down to the depths below! He is on the surface again, gaspin«. struggling, fighting for -breath; but the gaoler has closed with him now, and he is dragged down, down. Everything is fading away. "The name! What does it matter? Nothing matters now. Best at last!" \yiiat lias happened? Where is he? He is alive—strong—vigorous! He is back in the past! Wait! It is unfolding before his sight like a pictured panorama before a gazer'* view.

He is in a small dark-panelled rm>v,i: a spare, clean-shaven man is spoa!;iim in measured tones. Hush, hush—listen! "Certainly! It is quite simple. Monsieur can safely leave his securities with me to keep till his return. It is onlv needed to sign this paper. Your name? Yes. Write it here." He dashes down the first name that occurs to him—" Dufreyue—Henri l)u----frcyne." It flashes before his eyes, clear and distinct. Saved—saved! Ue has cheated the grim gaoler at the last moment. With a last wild effort lie strikes out. He is fighting hard for his life now. but the gaoler has him bv the throat in the death struggle. Too late! ft is too late! He is dragged down for the last. time. What- matters now the name— -Kitty Everest.