"THE WHISTLER."

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 11, 6 February 1909, Page 4

"THE WHISTLER."

He sut iii ii great luxurious elnunlicr beside nil immense writing-table; t'"-' windows before hiin opened «n I'ii'cailillv. Iml at Unit height. thoujrli <""" could see thi' eddvin.K truilie plainly am hear till' ilecp i-'iir lliat cbbt-il an flowed ceaselessly from morn till iH»lit through .that tideway of life, U vi't remote from all the noise and rattle. Tlii' air wii.s >ol'lcncd 1,11,1 =Lill<--<l, calmed into quiet by liis iullueuec: t lu- thick carpet was liUt- green moss mltkll ' tll( ' feet. tin' polished walls Tillfi-till tin* iutovmiltoiit firelight in gleams of veil and pearl and green, tin; lii'avy '''n lll -' tin' "-i"'iiiitic wriling-lablc. the glistenill" threads ot gold in the brocade curiam- all rfliolf of wealth—as well tlH'.y i^i,l, for there in thai eliainber sat one of the of linanco. who was at that verv moment, by/his own reckonin;;. till' richest mini ill all the world. With an impatient gesture he pushed nwav the papers he hail been puring iin ,i s it back in his ellii'r, gazing out of the window before limi—a tan man, with line features and pitiless eyes, anil thin lips that might have been earven in stone for ail (lie humanity their lines betrayed; a man who never IsmiK'd. .people said, anil who lwul lor* "O'ttmi how >0 laugh. i ■ • •'lt might :mvc been wore,' he said, | with a touch of acid disilftin, f *but the

foul bungled it in my absence." | Then he fell lu thinking of how many years it was since lie hud begun to lead gently, quietly, up to this moment, this supremo moment which gave his enemies into his hands, and bestowed upon him incalculable wealth and power. Heretofore lie had been masked in this or thai kingly personality; he had been a hidden power behind, always behind, the thruiie. Now, at last, he would be wiiat he, hail always thirsted for—the real and unmistakable J'orce, lll.it must be reckoned with. Now that enemy of his was disposed of he would play his part right royally. Ves, as things were, happily, nowadays, there was no power like wealth, and with lira ins to it. bodily strenglh and vigor. H had been a long lime, but worth working for, lie took up a paper from (he rest, read it over •carefully, drew his brows together, and laid it down on the top of the ,pile before him. "Vcs," he | continued, softly, "it has been a iongi light, and at last it is over. 1 am the richest man in all the world." "in all the world.''' he mused or«?r the echo of his own words, and frowned that he should have been betrayed into 1 spe;iki?ig his thoughts aloud. "1 must never do that again/' he told himself

scornfully; "a sign of mental weakness." And the very next instant he was repeating to himself that it had been a very long time—and fell back in his , memory to the privations and sulVering* he had endured in attaining his end; of the dilliculties overcome, the obstacles Mibdued and passed over, the thirst and hunger, the weary days, the long, dreary lonely nights. At an end now! He had reached the summit '»f hi* ambition*; there wt?rc only thrones and principalities to be bought now, only (iovernments and Peoples to be set in ihe way ho would. lie gathered the loose papers in his long, beautiful hand, and sat clasping them while he pondered over some knotty question they set forth. Yet on the whole he was satisfied, though the coup had bceu bungled because he was nut there "when it was made. The twilight fell, and the leaping llamcs tilled all the brightly - colored room. There was an east wind blowing outside; he heard it in tbu chimney; and the outside air was full of i yellowish vapor. Through it the roar of Irailic came dimly up to his unheal'iug ears, til) at last something reached hiin that stirred strange terrors in his

soul. He curved a hand over his ear., and, bending forward, listened intently —his breath coining- in little lluttcring sighs as it' lit were running hard. A line, thin lliroad of music pierced the icy air. asoouding to where he was and hanging over the dull booming of ■the truilic like a star above a whirlpool. Only someone whistling an old Irish dance. The sweet, shrill notes went lilting gaily on till right in the middle of the second phrase they stopped, suddenly and abruptly, as if the whistle had been s-tnick away from the player's lips. The liichcst Mail iu All the' World rose unsteadily and tottered across the room to the window, and, clutching the thick curtain, looked down on the hastening crowd. On the

pavement edge stood a lean, boyish iigure, with llaxen head throwu lightly back and gazing straight at hian. The Richest Alan in All the World groaned-aloud, and went unsteadily back to his chair, where he collapsed, and groaned again. There was no terror in his face now, only despair; lie had looked so many times in his life for the one who had made that music. Always a>t such times as he had made a stride upwards to where he was now, at last safely established. Always he had looked, but never before had he seen the Whistler, though he always knew him.

■■James," he whispered to himself, "■lames—after all these years." ■ "Sevcn-and-tweuty years, Richard," said a voice 'beside him, and he lifted his eyes to meet those of the Whistler, standing in the lirelight, with the whistle laid against his cheek, a;id his long thin lingers lluttcring above the holes. A country boy's whistle it was, cut out of a grev reed, clumsy, but singularly sweet and clear, like the cry of the wandering wind across the mountain-top. "Seven- and - twenty years, James,' echoed the Richest Man iu All the World. "'Tis a long time!" ••'Tis half a lifetime," said the \Vhiotler, looking full at the other, and the Kichest Jlan in All the World saw again that strange mystic blue in them, pupil and iris alike, dear as the eyebright, and winning like stars; eyes that were beautiful, gentle, sweet, and looke'l a.s if the soul behind them were somewhat lacking; and yet the Richest Man iu All the World understood that no know,edge was hidden from that soulcither of this world or thai on whose boundaries we were unwittingly tread-

■ "I huve conic for you, Richard," said the boy, blowing a few faint, sweet notes on tile whistle, and laughing lightlv; tile laugh was like tile wind, and the whistle was like the laugh, and hotli sounded from very far oil' on a great h tight. i The Richest Man in All the World instinctively clashed his paper- tightly and tried to speak, lint his speech was frozen in him; the boy played from the beginning of the little old dance till that same middle portion, and once more paused with that same strange, luullled, gapping sound the pipe still at his smiling iips. , "For Clod's sake," burst out the Rich.est Man in All the World, "finish the .lime, James.'' , "I will finish it, Richard, if you will ■draw out, in God's name, the knife you .struck to my heart just there—draw it ,out, in God's name." . He, drew back his tattered coat and .showed the Rich Man something tinder bis garment. The Hickman cried out bitterly. "I did not want to do it," lie Availed! "The money was mine by rights! illc had 110 right to give you the fifty .pounds, you. the Oniadaun—the fool." "f was the eldest-born, Richard," .whispered tbe Whistler, softly. "You were a fool," protested the Rich .Man. "What would you have done witli fifty .pounds? You were hurrying to .give half of it to old Mary Scanlan .when V met you. Look what I have made of it? I—l am the richest man in all the world." ; He flung the papers at tbe Whistler < feet, and they scattered on the mossy carpet. The 'WEisficr drew away from ithem, till nothing showed out of the gloom save his white face and starry eves, and the long fluttering lingers on tiie. little pipe. "I see tear-," lie whispered; ''tears and blood, and lire and llaiue. I hear little children crying in the dark, inollicrs weeping for their children, fathers crying for their .sons, their daughters. I see ruin, ileslruction. "Is this what yon have made with my fiftv pounds. Richard:'!" The lad's llaxell hair lifted oil' his .forehead as he stood, half in dark and half iu elooiu. and the ItieJi Man s soul died within him. for there was no wind in that great room over Piccadilly, nor was there the brea.th of wild mountain heather iu the yellow air, or the sound of leaping water. "What-would you have done wilh.it, Fool?" he asked 'harshly, to disguise his I'eai. The Whistler played a bar or two. and tlie, Ivieli .Man stared at liis bare feel on the green carpet. "I would have paid .Mary Sciiulan's rent,*' be said. . The l!ieli Man's mirth was liorriMe. '•llow like a fool!" he said. "Why. I have made your lit'ty pounds into millions," ' '

"Your sorrow!' 5 said the. l'uol; "'twill avail nothing when- you are going, Kiehard.'' The l»ie)i Man caught himself lightly in JiU chair. "1 am not going anywhere out of this rooni." lie gasped determinedly. "You are imagination. (.«o away!" "I am your brother, tile Fool," said llii-: Whistler, and he softly )>layed over the little merry dance breaking oil' abruptly in the middle. The Kichest }fan in All the World groaned in bitt«*rness of soul—in futile agony of spirit. • ~C ome!'s the Whistler. "the way is long.'' lie touched tin l Kieh Man on the shoulder. • "lan you think of e'er a one you ha»*« fed or comforted. or made happy in all these "jOvou-aiuKwenty year<':" lie a-d<<-d softly. "If you van. ttichard. call it k> vou now.

Something* in the Kit-It Man'-- brain i went backward through ihe years, and [■ sought vainly, while the Whistler wait- f eil ill the firelitt room. lie liliew now [ what hit il happined. and thai all his C millions wouhl nut help him. l-roin the vain i|iiest n little limping shadow I'ol- | lowed him, a"ad stood looking up at him ! with bunted eves. ■■ -Ti- the cut yon fed the night you ► came tirst to London,' said the Whistler. £ -Take it up. for 'tis all there is to speuk for vou. Tlichard. and come with me." > Tile Richest Man iu All the AVorM)£ riise obediently, lifted the little shadow {> 'iu his shadowy arms, and looked back > on bimself, lieail / ► for|> the