THE STORYTELLER.
ROGER VANE'S TEMPTATION I. '•'Ten thousand pounds!" Roger Vane uttered the words slowly and reflectively. "Why, the use of it for twenty-four hours would save me." He brushed the moist hair from his damp brow struggling against temptation.
Moving a restless step or two, he fell dejcctedlv into a chair before, his desk, for it was ruin that stared at him, and no juggling this way or that, no skilful disguising where the ice was thin, no subterfuge would save him now—nothing hut money, or what represented money. "So near—a means of tiding over troubled waters into a safe haven so near," he muttered, gazing with dull eyes around the handsome offices. A •bankrupt financier, with the storm of ruin gathering up, he was splendidly housed, his secret not yet known to* the world at large, though credit was shaken and there were whispers abroad. He sat there kit for a few moments.. Inaction was hateful. He foegaii to .pace up and down the room, his eyes wandering across to a safe fitted into the wall, the elaborate mechanism of the combination lock guaranteed to set at defiance the most skilful and up-to-date burglar.
Within that safe, he knew, were securities instantly convertible into cashcash Unit, in his'hands. he realised would enable him to transform defeat into triumphant success. But he dare not use them for such a purpose. do so would be a crime, would brand him as a common thief, would east him aside for ever from honest men.
And yet—ah, Heaven!—it was hard to accept failure—hard to be pushed down from the throne which his own hands had fashioned, have the crown Mid sceptre torn from brow and grasp, and the purple robes of state changed mio a beggar's rags. Suddenly he paused in his steps and smote the desk with his clenched hand. The color had come into his face, a dull red, and in his eyes was a flame of resolve. He could not endure defeat—anvthiii'2' sooner than that. He told himself that he was a general —a weneral into whose possession had come ammunition when all his own supplies were exhausted. Was it for him to question the source from which; it came, with the din of battle ringing in his ears? Only a madman would hesitate.
So he argued, stilling the voice of conscience, telling himself that expediency must be the prevailing master. There was a man near at hand who would lend him the money; would advance it without the least hesitation upon such unquestionable security. He glanced at the clock. Already 'on' the stroke of four. Too late to visit the banks. Reuben 'Bostello was his only chance. He would have (preferred to do business with one who was not a Jew. But now there was mo time to choose his man. He must act; and at once. The transaction was quickly carried through, and 'half an hour later he returned to his office, his honor and 'his honesty pawned with those papers in the Jew's keeping. He found' that his clerks had admitted during his absence a visitor into his private room, and he started at the sight | of the elderly man who came quickly : forward, his whole bearing revealing intense mental agitation, though he waited until the clerk had withdrawn before he addressed Roger Vane. \ "Tliose papers—those securities," he said, in a trembling tone. "I have come for them—l want thsem now—l must have them." Roger Vane drew in his breath, and he was glad tltat the light in the office was too dull for the other to read his face. He paused before he answered. "My dear Wilton, wihat is wrong? 1 thought you were away; you said you ' should be in Berlin for at least ten days. What has brought you back so soon?" He strove to speak calmly, and he; marvelled that he succeeded so well. j The other caught at his throat with a nervous hand, as if to thrust away somethinir that was stifling his breath. «jL-i W ant those securities," he repeated. "You—yon must give them back to me, and at once." He caught at the other's arm with a tenacious "grip. His agitation was pam- - ful to witness. . | Vane shook himself free and eyed him steadily. ~ , ,' "My dear Wilton, do you suppose that I carry your .property in my ipockets? 1 was puzzled from the first moment at your strange desire to place your papers in my care, and you will remember that I was reluctant to take charge of them. But for some reason, impossible for ni'e to' understand, you insisted upon my holdin" them, and of course, I .placed them at once where they should have been placed in the first instance by your- ' self—in a bank." - I Wilton drew back with a low cry. i His haggard eyes leapt to the clock as 1 Vane's Tad done such a short while ago. I "In the bank!" he gasped. I "Yes; therefore impossible for one to regain them to-day." "But I must have them. I tell you i must—l must!" ~,-,, His voice rose to a wail, and his tnm, sinewy fingers were crooked like claws. Vane shook his head. He hated himself in that moment with a self-con-tempt he had never experienced until now. But the part he had chosen had to be played now that he had once taken it up. There was no escape—no way ■ back. "Be reasonable," he said, after a momentary pause. "Your need for those securities at the close of a business day cannot be so urgent that the morning will not serve as well." "You—you do not undferstand.- the 1 elder man stammered. "No. no; how should you? I—l don't blame you, but : —unless I have them this very night—and I realise it is impossible—well, 1 am done for—rained." .He spoke in dead tones, his head bowed, his eves dull with despair, "Come, 'man, you shall have them the
moment the bank opens in the morning." Vane spoke in assured tones, msolved that b\- some desperate means he would keep his pledge. "You should have wired me," he added, reproachfully, "saying that you were returning. All then would have been well, and your .property at this moment in your hands." There was a world of regret in his tones that rose from his very heart. Already remorse had seized him for.his action—that action which was irrevocable. The distress of the old lawyer made him feel utterly despicable. But he was helpless, and could say nothing more to him than had already "been spoken, ana it was with inexpressible relief that he watched Henry Wilton depart.
He sat there brooding' for some little time. He looked up with frowning brows as his door was iluug open and his chief clerk entered without ceremony.
The young man's looks expressed a wild elation, 'and his voice rang out jubilantly- as he addressed his employer, "There is wonderful news just come through from New York, sir," he exclaimed. "The boom has come at last. Gold has been found, a rich vein struck, in the Basil Mine. The reports have just come through—authoritative imports, not rumors—and the price is mounting, mount'!..:.'' Vane sprang to Ls feet and lnux'f'.l out hatleSJf. £U -.'.'Jit his way into the street, where "n excited group had congregated in tlmt unofficial "House" that collects aft' r the 'Stock Exchange has closed its port-Is. They greeted him with a ch?er f.nd gathered round him, eager to buy from the man who practically own.d the Basil Mine. His faith in it was justified, and standing there, listening to the excited voices around him which confirmed what his clerk had already related, Roger Vane knew that the money he had imagined lost would return to" him in a golden shower, and refill emptied coffers to the utmost brim.
Foremost amongst those who were ready with congratulations was Reuben Bostello, always one of the last to leave the city. "Do you want any shares at their present price? They'll be double tomorrow." The Jew nodded eagerly. "Very well. Let's get out of this hubbub and go to your office. I have a deal I want to propose to you. I want those securities back—to-night. You understand? I will pay you double their value in Basil shares at their present quotation. You can sell them at what price you like to-morrow." , The Jew pondered a moment. There. was an odd light in his dark eyes—a reflective light. Then he nodded slowly. "Very well," he said. "You shall have them at once."
Vane drew a deep breath of relief. The world was set in tune once more. There was still time to undo the misdeed he had committed. He could feel no exaltation, no rejoicing, until those securities were back in their owner's possession, A* taxi bore him swiftly to the oldfashioned Kensington house where the lawyer dwelt. He knocked imperiously, and the door was opened almost immediately by a white-faced maid-servant. She stared at him in reply to his demand to see Mr. Wilton, then 'began to sob hysterically. "He's' dead, the poor master!" she burst out. "He—he shot himself in his study half an hioiir ago." 11. "What a pretty scene,, audi what perfect (lowers!" Olive Wilton /gazed round the fashionable restaurant'with an eager, interested smile upon her lovely face; yet a moment Jater her eyes clouded, for she remembered her father, whose tragic death six months ago had recalled her from the convent where she had dwelt since childhood.
She had seen very little of him; his visits had occurred only at rare intervals, and he was not the man who had cared to have'a child at his house during the holidays, so that his death meant no violent rupture of love; only it had inspired an immense pity for him, and the despair that must have possessed his soul in that fatal moment that 'Han oeen his last.
The true reason that had driven him to suicide—insolvency, and worse than th a t_had been carefully withheld from the girf; and, indeed, people wfcre m general rather puzzled as to his motive ; for gold had 'been Roger Vane's good servant, and he had used it freely in keeping the dead man's reputation clear, for he°Qwed it to Henry Wilton, whose act burdened his conscience with a' sleepless remorse and self-accusation. It was this same sense of duty which had in the first place induced him to take the responsibility of the dead man's daughter upon his own shoulders, although Olive was far from realising this,.. believing that her father had left her well provided for. The lady whom Vane had engaged as Olive's chaperon, and who formed the third of the supper-party, glanced from I one to the other of her companions with a satisfied eye. It was very plain to her that the millionaire-financier was deeplv in love with Olive, and the good lady was glad; for she had grown fond of the gir?, and it was her ambition to see her make a 'brilliant match. Besides, she liked Vane for his personal qualities, quite apart from his success. "All the world seems to be here tonight" she murmured, and then she ibent 'over her dessert to hide an involuntary grimace, for sauntering over to their table she observed a man who was her especial detestation—Reuben Bostello. The Jew eame forward, an r oily smile upon his face as he bent in homage over Olive's extended hand, and took the seat which Vane was constrained to offer him, though he detested the little Jew, and di-liked meeting him at any place except in the city, which environment better suited him* than a social background. • Perhaps Bostello recognised that his ■in-esence was endured on sufferance, for in the midst of devoting himself to Olive, whom he amused, he was thoughtful once or twice, and sat with compressed lips, darting an upward angry glance filled tf*ith venom in Vane's direction when the other was not looking. Vane himself was seated in a thoughtful attitude the following morning in
kis office, when Bostello was announced. Wondering what he could wish to see him about, he waited in silence for the other to explain, which he at once proceeded to do without the lease hesitation or preamble. "Look here, Vane," he began blusteringly, "I admire Miss Wilton tremendously, and I want to marry her. But you're spoiling it all. You can't surely think to marry the girl yourself, so why can't you let another Johnny have a look in?"
Vano's face stiffened with disgust and his answering voice was like ice. "What obstacle is there to prevent my marrying Miss Wilton, if she would accept me?" he asked, quietly.
Bostello gave an angry jeer. "Come now, don't act the innocent with me! You placed your hands without leave upon old Wilton's securities which he entrusted to you, and I give a very shrewd guess that it was due to you, since without them he could not meet his obligations, as much as to anyone that he shot himself, and that is my reason for stating that marriage between you and his daughter is impossible."
Vane had turned as white as chalk. it was known—this secret which he 1 imagined was locked in bis own breast. "Of course, I don't want to blab to the -girl." continued, the Jew; "and if : you'll u'nuertake to keep off the grass I and let me have a fair innings, why, it's a bargain between us." In silence Vane reached out and touch* ed the bell. Bostello's face flushed an anwry red. He recognised that he was being dismissed. "I do not understand your words," Vane remarked 1 , slowly, "so far as -*.tey concern myself. But as for your pretensions towards Miss Wilton, 'I can only stigmatise them as gross impertinence." The Jew rose, speechless with rage. He stammered forth some threatening, almost incoherent words, then passed through the door, which a clerk held open. "She will know the truth, and I shall Jose her," Vane whispered to himself when he was alone once more. "Well, it is more than I'might have expected:" And yet, to lose the hope of winning her love, it was a bitter, bitter sacrifice. He knew quite well how she would regard him when she knew the truth, which had become known in some inexplicable fashion to Reuben Bostello. Sbe would judge him as morally guilty o* having driven her father into a suicide's grave. Others might hold that to be an ex--aggerated view, but he could not himself regard it in that light. His own conscience acetised him.
The. fact that he had not used the money obtained upon those' securities had nothing to do with the question, it seemed to him.
Hours passed,, leaving him undecided what to do. Bat at last' he came to a decision, and made Ms way from the city with sinking heart and dragging steps. » Yes, he would go> to her; she should hear the' truth. Without sophistry, without seeking to> excuse himself, he would relate everything to her.
But something in her aspect, when he was shown' into Her presence, revealed to him that another had been before him —that his rival, Reuben Bosieao, had forestalled him.
"Olive—you—you know!" "Yes." She spoke the words in a strange voice. "Olive" —his voice quivered: a little — "there—there was something T had wished to say to you, but how can I say it now that you know what Bostello has told you?" •
She turned to him suddenly. Her eyes were shining, her lips' parted, a soft flush had sprung into her face. ■■,; "'What he told me has made no difference," she said, slowly. "No difference ?" he stammered. '"But, Olive, what if I had 'been unable to return those securities ? I used them as a thief, and should justly have baen branded by the world as a thief." "Sfot ,so," she said. "You could not steal what was your own? Now, do not interrupt, but hear me.' My- father—my poor, weak father—was but restoring to you your own when he gave; info your hands those papers. You left England as a young man, to return to' it years after with, a new name—and a fortune.
"But .during your absence your cousin, an old man whom you had scarcely seen, died, leaving you what he possessed, and appointing my father sole executor. But my father said nothing of this to you wben you came tack, though'; he knew your true identity. He had used this money, though he always hoped to return it to you one day with', a full explanation, throwing himself upon your mercy. All these facts I have discovered in a paper that was intended for me,, though it has only lately come into my possession.
"But, alas, one dishonesty led to another. My father used otter people's money as well as yours. However, hisspeculations up to a certain: point were successful, and he fully intended to tell you the securities which you held were your own property when lis returned from Berlin, where he had hopes of carrying through a wonderful coup, ouiy the money markets were against him, and after a few adverse days he came back ruined. That was wfey he needed what he had placed in your keeping.
"Reuben Bostello was cotrustee with him in another trust, and, to inspire him with renewed confidence when he was asking awkward questions, my father showed him the receipt which you had insisted upon giving him, wherein the nature of the securities you held was stated." An immeasurable sense of relief stole upon Vane's senses. Hfe soul was filled with rejoicing. "Then—then I may spea'k the words I have longed to say," he murmured. "Olive, I dare ask you to become my wife?" ■ She lifted her lovely eyes that were so grave a moment ago, but now were filled with joy, and in them Roger Vane read the unspoken answer to that question.
Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TDN19100623.2.62
Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka
Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 63, 23 June 1910, Page 6
Word count
Tapeke kupu
3,012THE STORYTELLER. Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 63, 23 June 1910, Page 6
Using this item
Te whakamahi i tēnei tūemi
Stuff Ltd is the copyright owner for the Taranaki Daily News. You can reproduce in-copyright material from this newspaper for non-commercial use under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International licence (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0). This newspaper is not available for commercial use without the consent of Stuff Ltd. For advice on reproduction of out-of-copyright material from this newspaper, please refer to the Copyright guide.