THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 376, 29 April 1910, Page 6

THE STORYTELLER.

A SPECULATIVE VENTURE. Gloomily Mr. Charles Selby came downstairs from the city oHiee in which liu was employed. It was Saturday afternoon, and half an hour ago ho hail received his salary l'or the current month. One might reasonably have deemed a light-hearted gaiety more appropriate to the occasion. Jint monetary troubles had well-nigh crushed Mr. Selby's spirit. Of what he termed his ''screw" he had, alter repaying various loans to fellow clerks, exactly fourteen shillings remaining. This sum, added to eightpence in coppers, represented his total worldly wealth. ile remembered with misgiving his landlady's parting words that same morning; he recollected the laundrymail V; terse and definite ultimatum of the night before. Several bills and one solicitor's letter bulged his breast pocket uneomforta bly. There seemed no one to whom he could turn. Mr. Selby, running hastily through the list of his possessions, had just decided that none were worth a visit to the pawnbroker's, when lie reached the street. As he paused for a moment there, dismally scanning the passers by. One of them caught his eye, nodded, and hesitated. In a flash Mr. Selby recollected this prosperous-looking individual's name and seized upon him, metaphorically, with the clutch of a drowning man. "Mr. Vincent!" he stammered hurrying forward with outstretched hand. ''Mr Howard Vincent, isn't it? Yes, yc*, 1 thought T couldn't be mistaken. How are you, sir ?" As the stout man in the white waistcoat greeted him with Mattering and encouraging warmth, Mr. Selby made his decision. Money was absolutely necessary. Mr. Vincent was obviously well-to-do; lie would, accordingly, approach Mr. Vincent for a loan. This promised, however, to be a delicate and rather embarrassing procedure; 'but Mr. Selby's straits over-ruled such ■obstacles. Mr. Vincent's friendly demeanor, too, gave him confidence. "Remember you? My dear sir, of course I remember you distinctly. It was at our mutual friend Simpsons we met—one evening when he had a kind of little party. 1' recollect I was delighted to make your acquaintance. Your name is on the tip of my tongue. Mr.—er—" "Selby—Charles Selby." "Mr. Selby. To he sure!' Do you happen to be going my way? If so, I shall be charmed if—yes; certainly, a very pleasant day indeed." Mr. Selby's spirits rose. His task would not be unpalatable, after all. Just a chafing reference to sudden Heavy expense—a mere passing inconvenience—and the thing was done.

"T wonder if ton -have had any lunch j yet? If not " "As a matter of fact I haven't, Sclb.v. i I was just thinking of " ' "Oh. you must join me then. Yes: I insist upon it!" Mr. Howard Vincent's objections were overcome at last; and as they proceeded. Mr. Selby racked his brain to think of j a sufficiently select hut, at the same j time, inexpensive restaurant. He took I the tickets- at a convenient Tube sta- ! tion, and during the short journey their ' intimacy grew rapidly. He stopped eventually before a certain shop. ] "I—er—believe they do you pretty ! well here. Unless there's anywhere else you'd prefer " "ao, )io; not at all. Awfully good of you, Selby." i They entered . Mr. Selby's fourteen-and-eight was now fourteen-and-four. He was rather staggered to note that the table d'hote nrice for lunch was 3s a head. ' "What—er—wine would you like?"he asked, breathing hard. "I —I myself am a teetotaller; but don't let that stop ' you " Mr. Vincent hesitated, then refused ' wine. Mr. Selby gasped with relief.

1 The bill came at last. A shilling tip • for the waiter seemed almost comnuisory. It annoyed Mr. Selliy to think that he, being poor, should tin the comparatively rich. It annoyed hint more to realise that up to now he had lacked the courage to broach to Mr. Vincent the question of the loan. "And what are you going to do with yourself now?" "I don't know," Mr. Selhv admitted awkwardly. "What do you say to a matinee —a music hall ?" "Well—yes. Sure I'm not keeping you from any engagement?" "Quite. Here's a taxi. Jump in." They had quite a miniature quarrel at the end of the drive. Mr. Howard Vincent, with one hand in his pocket, protested that it wa.s his turn to pay. Mr. Selby, however, scoffed at this. "No, no; I insist." he said again. "It's mv afternoon. You're my guest." Mr. Howard Vincent, looked quite uncomfortable. whereat Mr. Selby secretly rejoiced. That was the idea —to get his companion into such a frame of mind that he could not possibly refuse to grant a favor. He booked two circle seats at half-a-crown each, throwing down the silver with an air. Jingling his sole remaining coins—a penny and two halfpennies —he led Mr. Vincent upstairs. They found seats after awhile. 'When the attendant came round, Mr. Selby eyed the stage interestedly. Possibly programmes were threepence. Mr. Vincent purchased one; and Mr. Selby turned with an assumed start, and playfully rebuked hint. The performance might have been bad, medium or excellent for all Mr. Selby knew. He heard comedians evoke laughter, watched "serios," equilibrists, and performing dogs as if in a dream. Mr. Vincent appeared,so engrossed that it was out of the question to disturb him with sordid business matters. "Let—let's come for a stroll," he suggested presently, in deperation.

Mr. Vincent assented. They walked into the promenade. This was his opportunity, decided Mr. Selby cheerfully. Ilow should he put it now? .Mr. Vincent, who had taken his arm, broke in upon his thoughts. "This is the first real chance I've had." he murmured, "of thanking you for your hospitality." "Xot at all!" 1 wouldn't have accepted, only—well now, I want to trespass still further on your good nature, and—and ask a favor." This was better and better, Mr. Selby told himself. •'Certainly," he responded. "Anything I can do I shall be only too " "Well, J shouldn't dream of if. only you—you seem to have plenty of money. In fact, can you—that is to say, would you—lend me ten pounds for a week or so?" He started. "Why, what—what's wrong." The shock had been too great. Mr. Selby had staggered back on to a velvet lounge, lie raised a white face. "[ believe I'm going to f-fainl. I I'm unwell," he remarked in a hoarse whisper. ''Run for a. doctor —quick!" But Mr. Vincent, setting his lips together, made no attempt to move. Beneath his gaze Mr. Selby fidgeted and flushed. For a full minute there was silence. "That," said Mr. Vincent at last bitterly, "tli.it was really too bad of yon. To pretend to be ill just because Why not have said straight out that you'd rather not lend me the money? Why resort to a subterfuge of this kind': It was unnecessary and unfeeling. There is obviously nothing the matter with you. I did' think"—his tone was sadly scornful —"I did think I'd met a friend—a gentleman. Oh! don't be afraid; I'll never trouble you again. I'm disillusioned now. But why —why did you want my company at all? That's "what 1 would like to know. What did you take me out to lunch at all for? Why did But Mr. Selby, with shoulders bent, was tottering towards the exit. One hand crept towards his trousers' pocket. Drawing out the penny and two half-' .pennies, he regarded them with wild, staring eyes.