The Mgsterg of the TLoak.

Tuapeka Times, Volume VI, Issue 293, 11 September 1873, Page 7

The Mgsterg of the TLoak.

(From " Temple Bar.") If there be a thing in the world that my soul hateth it is a" long night journey by rail. This thought passes sulkily and rebelliously through my head, as I sit in my salon in the JScu, at Geneva, on the afternoon of the fine autumn day on which, in an evil hour, I have settled to take my place in the night train for Paris. I have put off going as long as I can. I like Geneva, and am leaving some pleasant and congenial friends, but now go I must. My husband is to meet me at the station ia Paris at six o'clock to-morrow morning. Six o'clock! what a barbarous hour at which to arrive ! lam putting on my bonnet and cloak; I look at myself in the glass with an air of anticipative disgust. Yes, I look trim and spruce enough now — a not disagreeable object perhaps — with sleek hair, quick and alert eyes, and pink-tinted cheeks. Alas 1* at six o'clock to-morrow morning what a different tale there will be to tell ! Dishevelled, dusty locks, half open weary eyes, a disordered dress, and a green colored countenance. I turn away with a pettish gesture, I and reflecting Lhafc at loast fcLoro la no wisdom in living my miseries twice over I go down stairs, and get into the hired open carriage which awaits ! me. My maid and man follow with the luggage. I give stricter injunctions than ordinary to my maid never for one moment to lose her hold of [ the dresßing-case which contains, as it happens, a great many more valuable jewels than people are wont to travel in foreign parts with, and of a certain costly and beautiful Dresden china and gold Louis-Quaterze clock, which I am carrying home as a present to my people. We reach the station, and I straightway betake myself to the first-class salle d'aitente, there to remain penned up till che officials undo the gates of purgatory and release us — an arrangement whose wisdom I have yet to learn. -There are ten minutes to spare, and the salle is filling fuller and fuller every moment. Chiefly, my countrymen, countrywomen, and country children, beginning to troop home to their partridges. I look curiously round at them, speculating as to which of them will be my companion or companions through the night. There are no very unusual types ; girls in sailor hats and blonde hair-fringes ; strong-minded old maids in pains-takingly ugly water-proofs ; fattish mothers ; a German or two, with prominent pale eyes and spectacles. I have just decided on the companions I should prefer; a large young man, who belongs to nobody, and looks as if he spent most of his life in laughing — alas! he is not likely! he is sure to want to smoke ! — and a handsome and prosperous-looking young couple. They are more likely, as very probable, in the man's case, the bride's love will overcome the cigar-love. The porter comes up. The key turns in the lock ; the door opens. At first lam standing close to them, flattening my nose against the glass and looking out on the pavement : but as the passengers become more numerous, I withdraw from my prominent . position, anticipating a rush for carriages. I hate and dread exceedingly a crowd, and would much prefer at any time to miss my train rather than be squeezed and jostled by one. In consequence, my maid and I were almost the last people to ©merge, and have the last and worst choice of seats. We run along the train looking in'; the footman, my maid, and I. Full — full everywhere ! I am growing nervous, when I see the footman, who is a little ahead of us, standing with an open carriage I door in his hand, and signing to us to make haste. Ah !it is all right ; it ' always comes right when one does not fuss oneself. " Plenty of room here, 'm ; only two gentlemen. ' I I put my foot on the high step and climb in. Rather uncivil of the two gentlemen ! — neither of them offers to help me ; but they are not looking this way, I suppose. " Mind the dressing-case !" I cry nervously, as I stretch out my hand to help the maid Watson up. The man pushes her from behind ; in she comes, dressing-case, clock, and all, Here we are for the night ! lam so busy and amused looking out of the window, seeing the different parties bidding their friends good-bye, and watching with indignation the barbaric and malicious manner in which the porters hurl the luckless luggage about, that we have steamed out of the station, and are fairly off for Paris, before I have the curiosity to glance at my fellow-passengers. Well ! when I do take a look at them, I do not make much of it. Watson and I occupy two seats by one window, facing one another, our fellow-travellers have not taken the other two window seats ; they occupy the middle ones, next us. They are both reading, behind newspapers. Well ! we shall not get much amusement out of them. I give them up as a bad job. Ah !if I could have had my wish, and had the laughing young man, and the pretty young couple, for company, the night would not perhaps have seemed so long. However, I should have been mortified for them to have seen how green I looked when the dawn came ; and as to these commisvoyageurs, I do not care

if I look as green as grass in their eyes. Thus, no doubt, all is for the best ; and at all events it is a good trite copy-book maxim to say so. So I forget all about them, fix my eyes on the landscape racing by, aud fall into a variety of thoughts. "Will my husband really get up in time to come and meet me at tbe station to-morrow morning ?" He does so cordially hate getting up, My only chance is his not having gone to bed at all. How will he be looking ; I have not seen him for four months. Will be have succeeded in curbing his tendency' to fat, during his Norway fishing ?" Probably not. Fishing, on the contrary, is rather a fat-making occupation ; sluggish and sedentary. Shall we have a pleasant party at "the house we are going to, for shooting ? To whom in Paris shall I go for my gown? Worth ? No, Worth is beyond me. There I leave the future, and go back into past enjoyments ; excursions to Lansmere ; trips down the lake to Chilton ; a hundred and one pleasantnesses. The time slips by ; the afternoon is drawing towards evening ; a beginning of dusk is coming over tbe landscape. I look round. Good heavens ! what can those men find, so interesting!" oljo p^^oia i x im^u^t..* theiu hideously dull, when I looked over them this morning ; and yet they are still persistently reading. What can they have got ,'hold of? I cannot well see what the man beside me has ; his vis-a-vis is buried in an English " Times." Just as lam thinking about him he puts down bis paper and I see his face. Nothing very remarkable ; a long black beard, and a hat tilted somewhat low over his forehead. I turn away my eyes hastily, for fear of being caught inquisitively scanning ; but still I see out of their corners that he has taken a little bottle out of his travelling bag, has poured some of ts contents into a glass, and is putting it jto bis lips. It appears as if— and, at ! the same time it happens, I have no manner of doubt that he is drinking. Then I feel that he is addressing me. I look up and towards him, as he is holding the phial to me and saying. " May I take the liberty of offering madarae some ?" "No thank you, monsieur!" I answer, shaking my head hastily and speaking rather abruptly. There is nothing th&t I dislike more than being offered strange eatables or drinkables in a train, or a strange hymn book in a church. He smiles politely, and then adds, " Perhaps the other lady might be persuaded to take a little ?" " No thank you, sir, I'm much obliged to you," replies Watson briskly, in almost as ungrateful tone as mine. Again he smiles, bows, and re-buries himself in his newspaper. The thread of my thoughts is broken, I feel an odd curiosity as to the nature of the contents of that bottle. Certainly it is not sherry or spirits of any kind, for it has diffused no odour through the carriage. All this time the man beside me has said and done nothing. I wish he would move or speak, or do something. I peep covertly at him. Well ! at all events, he is well defended against the night chill. What a voluminous cloak he is wrapped in ; how entirely it shrouds his figure — trimmed with fur too ! Why, it might be January instead of September. I do not know why, but that cloak makes me feel rather uncomfortable. I wish they would both move to the window, instead of sitting near us. Bah ! am I setting up to be a fcimicl dove ? I who rather pique myself on my bravery — on my indifference to tramps, bulls, ghosts ? The cloak has been deposited with the umbrellas, parasols, spare shawls, rugs, &c, in the netting above Watson's head. The dressing-case — a very large, a heavy one — is sitting on her lap. I lean forward and say to her, " That box must rest very heavily on your knee, and I (Want a footstool — I should be more I comfortable if I had one — let me put my feet on it." I have an idea that Bomehow my sapphires will be safer if I have them where I can always feel that they are safe. We make the desired change in our arrangements. Yes, both my feet are on it. The landscape outside is darkening quickly now ; our dim lamp is beginning to assert its importance. Still the men read. I feel a sensation of irritation. What can they mean by it ? It is utterly impossible that they can decipher the small print of the "Times" by this feeble, shaky glimmer. As I am so thinking, the one who had before spoken lays down his paper, folds it up and deposits it on the seat beside him. Then, drawing his little bottle out of his bag a second time, drinks, or seems to drink from .it. * Then he again turns to me: "Madame will pardon me; but if madame could be induced to try a little of this ; it is a cordial of a most refreshing and invigorating description ; and it' she will have the amibility to say so, madame looks faint." What can he mean by his urgency ? Ts it pure politeness ? I wish it were not growing so dark. These thoughts." run through my head as I hesitated for an instant what answer to make. Then an idea occurs to me, and I manufacture a civil smile and say, " Thank you very much, monsieur ! I am a little faint, as you observe. I think I will avail myself of your obliging offer." So saying, I take the glass and touched it with my lips. I

give you my word of h onor that I do not think I did more ; I did not mean to swallow a drop, but I suppose I must have done. He smiles with a gratified air. " The other hidy will now> perhaps, follow your example?" By this time I am beginning to feel thoroughly uncomfortable; why, I should be puzzled to explain. What is this cordial that he is so eager to urge upon us ? Though determined not to subject myself to its influence, I must see its effects upon another person. Rather brutal of me, perhaps ; rather in the spirit of the anatomist, who, in the interest of science, tortures live dogs and cats ; but I am telling you facts — not what I ought to have done, but what I did. I make a sign to Watson to drink some. She obeys, nothing loath. There is no feigning about her. She has emptied the glass, Now to see what comes of it — what happens to my live dog ! The bottle is replaced in the bag ; still we are racing on, racing on, past the hills and fields and villages. How indistinct they are all growing ! I turn back from the contemplation of the outside view to the inside one. Why, the woman is asleep already ! — her chin buried jn her chest, her mouth Sgff very" plain,"" °Jm^7 a ly imbecile asleep out or bed, do look. A nice invigorating potion, indeed ! I wish to heaven that I had gone aux fumeurs, or even with that cavalcade of nurserymaids and unwholesome-looking babies, aux dames scules, next door. At all events, I am nob at all sleepy myself — that is a blessing. I shall see what happens. Yes, by-the-by, I must see what he meant to happen ; I must affect to fall asleep too. I close my eyes, and gradually sinking my chin on my chest, try to droop my jaws and hang my cheeks, with a semblance of bona fide slumber. Apparently I succeed pretty well. After the lapse of some minutes I tlisbinefcly feel two hands very cautiously and carefully lifting and removing ray feet foom the dressing-box. The cold chill creeps over me, and then the blood rushes to my head and ears, what am Ito do 1 what am I to do 1 I j have always thought the better of myself ever since for it ; but, strange to say, I keep my presence of mind. Still affecting to sleep, I give a sort of a kick, and instantly the hands are withdrawn, and all is perfectly quiet again. I now feign to wake gradually, with a yawn and a stretch ; and on moving about my feet a little, find that, despite my kick, they have been too clever for me, and have dexterously removed my box and substituted another. The way in which I make this pleasant discovery is, that whereas mine was perfectly flat at the top, on the surface of the object that is now beneath my feet there is some sort of excrescence — a handle of some sort or other. There is no denying it — brave I may be — I may laugh at people for running from bulls, for disliking to sleep in a room by themselves for fear of ghosts, for hurrying past tramps, but now I am most thoroughly frightened. I look cautiously, in a sideway manner, at ths man beside me. How very still he is! Were they his hands, or the hands of the man opposite him ? I take a fuller look than I have yet ventured to do, turning slightly round for the purpose. He is still reading, or at least still holding the paper, for the reading must be a farce. I look at his hands ; they are in precisely the same position as they were when I affected to go to sleep, although the pose of the rest of his body is slightly altered. Suddenly I turn extremely cold, for it has dawned on me that they are not real hands — they are certainly false ones. Yes, though the carriage is shaking very much with our rapid motion, and the light is shaking toe, yet there is no mistake. I look indeed more closely, so as to be quite sure. The one nearest me is ungloved, the other gloved. I look at the nearest one. Yes, it is of an opaque waxen whiteness. I can plainly see the rouge put under the finger-nails to represent the colouring of life, I try to give one glance at his face. The paper still partially hides it, andasheis leaninghis head back against the cushion, where the light hardly penetrates, I am completely baffled in my efforts. Great heavens ! vVhat is going to happen to me ? what shall I do? how much of him is real? where are his real hands? what is going on under that awful cloak ? The fur border touches me as I sit by him. I draw convulsively and shrinkin gly away, and try to squeeze myself up as close as possible to the window. But alas ! to what good ? How absolutely and utterly powerless I am ! How entirely at I;heir mercy ! And there is Watson still sleeping swinishly — breathing heavily, opposite meShall I try to wake her ? But to what end ? She being under the influence of that vile drug, my efforts will certainly be useless, and will probably arouse the man to employ violence against me. Sooner or later in the course of the night I suppose they are pretty sure to murder me, but I had rather it should be later than sooner. While I think these thinsrf, I am lying back quite still, for, as I philosophically reflect, not all the screaming in the world will help me ; if I had twenty lung-power I could not drown the rush of an express train. Oh, if my dear boy were but here— my husband I mean — fat or lean, how thankful 1 should be to see him ! Oh, that cloak, and those horrid waxy hands ! Of course — I see it now ! — they remained Btuck out, while thftjnan'l red

ones were , fumbling about my feet. In the midst of my agony of fright a thought of Madame Tus'saud flashes ridiculously across me. Then they begin to talk of me. It is piain that they are not taken in by my feint sleep ; they speak in a clear loud voice, evidently for my benefit. One of them begins by saying, " What a good looking woman she is ! Evidently in her premiere jewnnesse too"— reader, I struck thirty last May—" and also there can be no doubt as to her being of exalted rank— a duchess probably."— (A dead duchess by morning, think I grimly.) They go on to say how odd it is that people in my class of life never travel with their own jewels, but always with paste ones, the real ones being meanwhile deposited at the bankers. My poor, poor sapphires ! good-bye — a long good-bye to you. But indeed I will willingly compound for the loss of you and the rest of my ornaments — will go bare-necked and bare-armed, or clad in Salvati beads for the rest of my life — so that I do but attain the next stopping place alive. As I am so thinking one of the men looks, or I imagine that he looks, rather curiously towards me. In a paroxysm of fear lest they should rp-jV terror f am enduring, i" throw my pocket handkerchief — a very fine cambric one — over my face. And now, oh reader ! lam going to tell you something which I am sure you will not believe ; I can hardly believe it myself ; but, as Iso lie, despite the tumult of my mmd — despite the chilly terror which seems to be numbing my feelings — in the midst of it all a drowsiness keeps stealing over me. I am now convinced either that vile potion must have been of extraordinary strength, or that I, through the shaking of the carriage or the unsteadiness of my band, carried more to my mouth and swallowed more — I did not mean to swallow any — than I intended — you will hardly credit it, but — I fell asleep ! * * When I awake — awake with a bewildered mixed sense of having been a long time asleep — of not knowing where I am — and of having some great dread and horror on my mmd — awake and look round, the dawn is breaking. I shiver, with the chilly sensation that the coming of even a warm day brings, andlook round, still half unconsciously, in a misty way. But what has happened ? How empty the carriage is. The dressingcase is gone ; the clock is gone ; the man who sat nearly opposite me is gone ; Watson is gone. But the man in the cloak and the wax hands still sits beside me ; still the hands are holding the paper; still the fur is touching me. Good God ! lam tite-a-tdte with him. A feeling of tbe most appalling desolation and despair comes over me, vanquishes me utterly. I clasp tny hands together frantically, and, still looking at the dim form beside me, groan out. " Well, I did not think that Watson would have forsaken me." Instantly, a sort of movement and shiver runs through the figure ; the newspaper drops from the hands, which, however, continue to be still held out in the same position, as if still grasping it ; and behind the newspaper, I see, by the dim morning light and the dim lamp gleams, that there is no real face, but a mask. Shivers of cold fear are running over me. Never to this day shall I know what gave me the despairing courage to do it, but before I know what I am doing, I find myself tearing at the cloak tearing away the mask — tearing away the hands. It would be better to find anything underneath — Satan himself — a horrible dead body — anything sooner than submit any longer to this hideous mystery. And lam rewarded. When the cloak lies at thR bottom of the carriage — when the mask, and the false hands and false feet — there are false feet too, are also cast away, in different directions, what do you think I find underneath ? Watson ! Yes : it appears that while I slept — I feel sure that they must have rubbed some more of the drug on my lips while I was unconscious, or I never could have slept so heavily or so long — they dressed up Watson in the mask, feet, hands, and cloak ; set the hat on her head, gagged her, and placed her beside me in the attitude occupied by the man. They had then, at the next station, got out taking with them dressing case and clock, and had made off in all security. When I arrive in Paris, you will not be surprised to hear that it does not once occur to me whether I am looking green or no. And this is the trne history of my night journey to Paris / You will be glad, I daresay, to hear that I ultimate- | ly recovered my sapphires, and a good i many of my other ornaments. The police being promptly set on, the robbers were, after murh trouble and time, at lenirth secured ; and it turned out that the man in the cloak was an ex-valet of my husbann's, who was acquainted- with my bad habit of i travelling in company with my trinkets ■— a bad habit which T have since, found fit to abandon. What I have written !is literally true, though it did not ! happen to myself.

An Irish paper announces that "in the absence of both editors the publishers hava succeeded in securing the servicea of a gentleman to edit the paper. "