THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 244, 20 November 1909, Page 4

THE STORYTELLER.

DICE REYNOLDS' LUCK. Flaming posters on every hoarding eet forth the news in lettering of most eye-catching aggressiveness; Millchester was emblazoned with the name "Milly iDucros" in all the colors of the rainibow. From most of the shop windows smiled the pretty features of "Britain's Brightest Comedienne," in a variety of photographic poses'. And all Millchester was on the tiptoe of expectancy, for on Monday Miss Milly Dueros would make her first appearance in her native city since she had climbed to the pinnacle of fame.

Monday night duly arrived, and a huge crowd outside the Theatre Royal, patiently awaiting the opening of the doors, denoted the desire of Millchcstrians to give their talented townswoman a most gratifying welcome. The clock in the tower of the city hall chimed forth in sonorous tones the halfhour after seven, and two or three streets away the sound of the chimes broke into the moody thoughts of a young man who, leaning on the quay wall, was staring down into the murky depths of the river flowing sluggishly along. . I rfjg§ He laughed bitterly and pulled Trom Ms pocket a coin which he looked at, ■whimsically, as it lay on his outstretched palm. "All your worldly wealth, Dick Rcy-j Bolds sixpence! Truly a colossal amount. The problem now is how to lay it out to the best advantage. He looked thoughtfully at the small coin. "Sixpence! I've had a meal a while ago—such as' it was—and Heaven knows if I'll ever seek another, for I'm sick of all this trudging and looking for work that can't be got. Sixpence! —and the river offers free ferry to the other- world that people who know so little of preach so much about." He 'glanced up and down the quay; it was deserted, save for himself. He still held the sixpence in his open palm, and suddenly an idea struck him. Why not solve the problem, by the toss' of the coin, whether life or death should be chosen?

"Here goes," he cried, resolutely—"heads for another go at fate—tails, for a trip into eternity before the next chime of the clock."

He drew lack from the wall, spun the coin in the air, and watched its whirling descent to the pavement, where it jingled noisily, and rolled a yard or eo into the roadway ere settling down. He drew a deep breath'before moving, then, with quick over it, placed it on his palm, and carried it to the nearest lamp-light, then looked at it shining on his outstretched hand. The head was up sai the King's countenance seemed to wear an encouraging smile as he gazed at it through a mist that, somehow, blurred bis vision like raindrops on a window. And just then the clock chimed forth the third quarter. 1 "Well," said Dick, as the sound ceased, a curious feeling of thankfulness' stirring his heart to quicker beating, "God save the King — for he's just saved me. and no mistake. Surely now luck's going to turn. Here goes to try, anyhow."

"Milly Ducros!" Dick Reynolds exclaimed, as he passed the Theatre Royal, "by all that's wonderful! Wliy, it's ages since "I saw her last—just before the poor dad died and I'd to paddle along in any own canoe, a youngster facing the world. Since that theatres haven't been much in my line. I'd jolly well like to see ber now, just to break the dreary monotony. I'm sure she's better than ever—quite a 'star' now, judging by the posters." He strolled along the pavement and looked at the various doors. "Pit Is," ''Gallery 6d," caught his eye. At sight of the lesser amount his fingers involuntarily tightened on the coin they still clutched.

He pushed his way in with the crowd, planked down his precious coin at the pay-box, and mounted the giddy ascent leading to the "gods." By this time the gallery was pretty full, and he had to content himself by leaning against the aide wall, from he commanded a view of three-fourths of tlie stage. The overture duly came to an end, the lights were lowered, up went the curtain on Act. I.—"The Bal .Masque, Palace Gardens," a bevy of masked shepherds' and shepherdesses in the fore-, ground for the opening chorus, gaily costumed ladies and gentlemen at the back, where the stately lines of the palace were skilfully shown by the aid of countless fairy lamps. On canne the "star"—Milly, Ducros, "Princess Elena"—and thunders of applause gave her fitting welcome. Everything she did she did well, and was cheered to the echo time after time • —Dick Reynolds applauding as vigorously as anybody, for he was thoroughly enjoying himself. After all tbe vicissitudes of fortune he had gone through, he deemed this the "night of his life," and resolutely shut out all thoughts, for the time being, of his penniless condition.

The drop-curtain descended on a brilliant finale to Act 1., the lights were raised, and the orchestra started again on another selection.

Dick leaned against the wall and sur- ( veyed all and sundry, the while experiencing a quaint feeling of aloofness. N»t a soul there knew him, nor did. he know one of the large crowd. So ran his thoughts, while the orchestra below got through its allotted programme.

Then, lights lowered again, Act 11. commenced—the scene, this time, being "Ball Room of the Palace," which, of course, was brilliantly lit. Dick was watching and listening, entranced, when suddenly he started, and held his breath for the'moment. At' the 'back of the stage a spark blazed up, then a little puff ol smoke. The duet proceeded, the principals unconscious of anything else; there was a hushed silence in the theatre as the orchestra played a soft accompaniment to the haunting melody. Dick gazed with fascinated eyes at the spot where now the spark 'had changed to a deeper glow. Then, with startling suddenness, a girl in the front of the gallery screamed shrilly. Almost at the same moment a youth beside her jumped to his feet with a terrified cry. "Kre!"

A •'"-» -? voices echoed the dread word—Liie audience rose en masse—there was a rush to the exits. Women shrieked—men cursed—those nearest the doors were shoved down under the weight of the struggling mass behind. Men and women fought madly to get out, and, by their frenzied actions', impeded or prevented egress. By this time the scenery was ablaze —the was black with thick volumes of smoke that rolled across the footlights to the auditorium. Luckily, at the first hint of danger, the Captain of the Guards—appropriately enoughcarried off the Princess to a place of safety; the other members of the company, the orchestra and the stage hands', had also got out by way of the stage door.

Up in the gallery, nick—almost swept off his feet in the first mad rush —had clung to a pillar and stopped there, while the crowd surged past him towards the exits, which were, of course, soon blocked.

He ran to the front of the gallery and looked over'— below him was the dress circle, from which uprose the pillars' supporting the gallery. Without Jiesitation he swung himself over the gallery rail, managed to reach one of the pillars, and slid down it to the dress circle. As he did so he saw in one corner a girl in even'ng dress, lying in a tumbled heap beside some overturned chairs. She had appfntly swooned, and in the rush the p*-> beside her had not noticed jir- ' ■ ip'eas condition, which now ■ "■'■nei all Dick's chivalrous instincts. he determined to save her at all costs, and eagerly looked about him for some <way of escape. Another struggling crowd at the doors in front of him precluded 'hope of speedy exit that way. He ran to the front and looked over the balcony. Down under was the pit: btyond that the pit stalls. Tf he could Ret down there he would, at any rate, be on the ground level. The stage was belching forth smoke, hut he fancied the flames had not vet reached the front ' of it. But how was he to get his unconscious cTtarge down out of the drew' circle? " And at this very moment Hie girl in the corner moaned and opened her eves. " She strove to. raise herself—he t - caught her round the waist and gent-lr lifted her un—she staggered a step or Sfwo forward, still a bit dazed, and Jeined nsninst 'him for support. She fcWls .1 nrettv. fair-haired <?irl of eighteen ,-or SO hilt her fW wns wi'iile and drawn &\nnn*. lier »ve« distended with fear. W[ "Don't be afraid." Raid Dick, eneoura<r'sn<rlv: "we'll pet out of here all risrht.'' p._i She looked toward" the <tn<p>. uttered <•, t startled cry, and covered her eyes

iwith her hands, as if to shut <nit the I terrible sight. Dick gripped her by Hhe I arm and led her 'to the trout of the Ibal-1 cony.

"Look!" said he. "We've got to get down there. Are you game to try it?"

' She leaned over and.looked at the pit lielow, drew back, and turned to him. His confident air gave 'her courage, and she smiled—fluch a brave little smile it was—and answered, "Just try me." "That's the way to talk," cried Dick cheerily; "so here goes for a good I start." There were scores of wraps and coats 'lying about; the owners hau given them no thought when the (panic started. He seized a number of these and knotted them together. Then he tied one end

of his improvised rope round the girl's waist, and, for fear of accident, fastened the other end securely to one of the gallery supports, lifted her over the balcony rail, and lowered her gently to the ground floor. Deftly she unfastened the rope from round her waist, and in a moment he had slipped down beside her. "Now, come this way," he commanded, and, taking her hand, he led iher through a litter of broken and overturned seats, acrue's the pit, over into the stalls, and round to a little doorway near the orchestra which, he rightly surmised, led towards the stage exit. But as he opened this a gust of hot air nearly stilled him and he staggered back a pace.

\X\\l\ teeth set he stilled a groan, for [the bitter knowledge had come to him .that they were too late tor chance of [escape that way. The girl, white-faced but courageous, said not a word—just looked at ■him, waitbg for Jib next move, lie assumed a cheerfulness he was far from feeling, and patted her shoulder reassuringly.

[ ••BaeK-jKuiu iur ua this trip; 'no tuorougmuic iius way, so wo'u rigln-aiuuut-iace and just look for auouier ouu."

iie led her back to the pit—behind hem the stage, now a mass of lierce allies that licked their way along 10mllesslyj iu front of tiieui the exit ours ciioKcd up with human bodies', he living struggling madly to surmount he dead and dying. Dick drew tue girl towards him and laced an arm round her protectingly. Then a sudden inspiration gave mm enewed uopo and confidence, if no exit y the blocked doors, why not try Hie rindows? He felt inclined to kick himelf for not having thought of this leans sooner. Now he peered upwards hrough the smoke. Several windows (ere on one side of the pit stalls, high p under the balcony. In a moment he was piling up chairs nder the window farthest from the lazing stage. To reach it by this means id not take him long; it was closed ight, he could not unfasten it, but with, chair-leg he smashed the panes of glass nd a cool gust of air came in. He ran ack for the girl, got hold of tie rope e had improvised earlier to accomplish he descent from the balcony; a few igorous pulls jerked it clear; once more e tied it round her waist, carried her p the pile of chairs to the broken winow, and, with much skill and no little ifficulty, got 'her safely through it on o the stone ledge outside. And then he suddenly discovered that lis own strength was failing, iiis head jetting dizzy, his breath labored. With a supreme effort he managed to lower her to the ground outside—it was i narrow lancway—and then—well, he just toppled over after her—and fell. Luckily, though, he fell into the arms of two firemen who just then ran down .he lane, trailing a length of hose. And then—he just fainted off.

I Hick ileynolds opened bis eyes slowly and looked about him, then opened them a shade wider, surprised at his surroundings, for he found himself in a large, airy bedroom, comfortably iurnished.

[ He strove to raise bintsel on his elbow, and found, to his amazement, that both arms were swathed in bandages. By degrees he got a grip on memory —the theatre—the fire —the girl—the fight for safety. He remembered the shattered window—the girl swung out over the sill beyond that point his mind was a blank.

I His first thought now—the girl. Was 'she all right—did she reach safety—ere his senses left him!

Just then the door opened and the subject of his thoughts entered the room. She came straight.to the bedo'ide when she saw his eager look. Her face was not pale and drawn now, as it had lieen when last ho looked on it near the lurid glow of the burning stage. On the contrary, it was bright and chcerlul as she looked down on him.

He smiled up at her gladly, and exclaimed:

"Then you are safe; I am so glad to know that."

"Thanks to you, I am," was her quick response. "lif you hadn't come e o me '' She broke oil abruptly and her face clouded, her lips quivered. "I can never be sufficiently grateful for the way you ris'ked your' own life tu save mine. What can I say or do to " "Say nothing," interrupted Dick, bis face ilushing; "I only did as many a man would do."

"Yes," she broke in, with scornful emphasis, "anil many a man didn't—only fought through the crowd for self-pre-servation."

"But, flease, tell me, where am I!" asked Dick. "And what's all the baudanging for! What happened to me'/" "Oh, your poor arms!" she cried, pityingly. "Dont you feel any pain?' "1 do now,' he admitted ruefully.

"They were all gashed by the jagged bits of the 'broken window, and you bled terribly—the doctor said you fainted from loss of blood. The Bremen caught you as you fell, and Dr. Richmond (our own doctor), who was luckily 'on the spot at the time to give help, stopped the bleeding and brought you home here with me in his carriage. "But you must be parched," exclaimed the girl—"l will bring you some soup." "Don't go for a moment," he pleaded; "I'd like to know your name. Mine is Reynolds—Dick Reynolds." "And mine is Siilly Grace. Now, l suppose, we are properly introduced and might shake hands—only for your bandages." She left the room, and Dick somehow felt as if the Sun outside had got hidden by clouds. Then he shut his eyes and went off in a light doze, wherein he dreamed that luck, in the person of Milly Grace, dressed as the Princess in the ballroom I scene, was handing him a 'bright new sixpence (with a hole in it). ■ And then he wakened up to find the Princess of his dream standing by the bedside. In her hand was a bowl, from which came a most appetising odour. She deftly propped him up with pillows. The bandaged arms rendered thei use of his hands a matter of some difficulty and discomfort; so, despite Iris confused protests, she insisted on feeding hian. And he thought to "himself the "nectar of the gods" couldn't have half the charm of that bowl of soup in the deft hands of Hilly Grace. Of course, they talked—between the mouthfuls.

He learned that on the previous night! she had gone to the Uheatre with some I lady friends. These latter had, iwhen| the alarm of fire was raised, got separated from her in the crushing and crowding to the doors. She had striven to reach them, but in the wild stampede had been hustled aside, fell over some, j scattered chairs, and lost consciousness

for some minutes. Her friends, luckily f%r themselves, had been swept out in the crowd before the doors got blocked, and so escaped with but trifling bruises. By the time the soup was disposed of

he learned all this, and afterwards' many [confidences were exchanged' by tSiose two young people so dramatically brought together in the hour of peril, The girl's lips quivered, and sympathetic tears dimmed her bright eyes when she learned how fate—through the medium of a tossed-up coin—toad turned his steps towards the theatre, to cross the threshold of which he had to spend his' last sixpence. Dick be it noted here had not meant to say a word about this part of the previous night's episodes, but, carried away by her eager questioning and whole-hearted sympathy, he had let out the whole story. "Oh. Mr. Reynolds!" she cried, impulsively; "I'll get papa to do something for you; he'll soon find you a situation." Later on "papa" appeared on the scene, and Dick felt considerably embarrassed when Mr. Grace, with evident

emotion, spoke of the debt he owed to the man who ban" so gallantly saved his 'motherless girl," and the fact of the bitter's presence ivhen her father spoke in such terms of him made Dick flusTi up all the more. Subsequently a few words from Milly nut her father in possession of .certain facts that he dulv noted, with the result that when Dick was out of the doctor's Viands he was delighted to learn from Milly hcrsWf that a place awaited him in her father's office.

In due course lie took up his duties there, and soon proved himself a most capable addition. i Air. Grace kept a watchful eye on him, I and was much pleased with his progress; when an opportunity occurred he advanced his protegee a step higher. So, by degrees, Dick won his way up the ladder. All the while he was a welcome visitor to the Grace domicile, and lie couldn't but admit to himself the obvious facl that Hilly wad always very pleased to see him there. Air. Grace's unfailing kindness, too. made Dick feel more n friend than au employee. it is nut sui-pn-MUg, therefore, tiial the little god ol love--ever on conquest bent—should lind those two young people willing captives to his prowess! And Hr. Grace—a very observant man in all matters—saw a lot, but said nothing; just waited developments with a tranquil mind, for he wa»' genuinely fond of Dick and would desire nothing better than to give his daughter to the

man who hesitated not to risk his own life for the saving oi hers. In due course another readjustment of the staff enabled Dick to eli'nib up several rungs nearer the top of the ladder, and that night, emboldened by his success and future prospects, lie sought a favorable opportunity, got Milly by herself in a secluded corner of' the big drawing-room, and then;, in the gloaming, whispered to willing cars the brief, but eloquent, message: "1 love yon.'' There was no need for words on her part—he read her answer in the shy gladness of the lovely eves upturned to his. As their lips joined in that most precious, soul-linking kiss—the lirat kiss of love—across the dusk of the summer might lloated the faint echo of a clock, afar off, chiming the half-hour. And, as in a dream, Dick .Reynolds saw, with his mind's eye, a lamp-lit quay, a dim, dark river, a sixpence—head upturned —on an outstretched hand. With Milly in his arms, her lips to his, he thanked the fates that turned 'his steps towards her on that memorable night when life—not death—ihad been decided by "the toss of the coin."— Tit-Bits.