Silas Dennington's Money.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10668, 25 June 1912, Page 2

Silas Dennington's Money.

CUR SERIAL.)

BY F. L. DACRE, I Aut',i:>rof ''Held in Boiidagc,"- 4 \A PJuntom of Ihe Pasl," "Sir J 3 h.i's lle:rc?s," "ilic S!:r.cb;v ci : Shame, 1 ' "A Jhnichici' of jlyiterv," oto

CM A FIT; Li Vlll.—Continued. The sun made the gilded fetters "Makes flic other places socm sbikby," uv.suvvvd Mr Grant. -'I s:;:>pos:> you will soon lie op-niug I'ni' husincss!'"' "i.K">k publishing? Fiction, hi.s----:o: ira!, scbatiiie. or what ?" He fore Jack could answer, ?,!i.ss br.'ii''.. nitorod the. room with a tec \<»':, ;i::.(l her father spoko laughing'"'"ii two don't want much intrc-.-'lnrii-g, Vr ('astlemaine,'this is my laughter i?n:..iiiiui:d, and my hrighest jewel." Miss Grant favoured her Pal her with ■in affectionate glance, then hog eyes ■not Jack's with franlc and kindly interest, her fair face reddening a little antler his .intent ga/.c.

• "iX'-ceut."' Brown Ini:/-:l:cf'' i;yisi'iy. "What do you caii decent? Take your Donny Sunday paper —sensation and lies; take your influential newspaper—divorce and libel; your popular six-shilling novel —immoral and revolting; your sixpenny monthly — half-tono pictures and immitation art paper —merely the most impossible sort of sensation well, illustrated, well printed, and tastefully wrapped." "Not far wrong, Mr Brown," GranUey said thoughtfully.

"Wrong! I'm absolutely right: r know what I'm tnlkinrx abo'et. "Wc can issue the boys' paper first, and later anything and everything thai is likely to sell." "It's a bit of n eomc-dowii," Jack said re-ignedly. "Veil, that's sotted, sir." "T leave everything in your bands. Hrown, ahsoluielv; .but don't ruin me. or'you'll ruin your own oppor'•.uniiies, ton."

OFTAPTKR IX

■ "Fve spent a month of wakofid nights over it already. Now I've gol earte blanche to go ahead?" "Yes, hut I must see what you arc doing from now on. T want to be in touch with every man that works on the paper, and T'll write one of the stories myself."

lov'k and bit; ■■ :■■•>:-. Jack woke up the next morning -.vith the firm conviction that he was in love. It was rather surprising, hut none the less true. Until now he had passed through life quite unscathed, ot'.iy to fall a victim to the little god within the spare of a few short hours. Rosamund Grant's- very first glance had sent his blood dancing in a most ' unaceonntahle way. How softly luminous were her soft brown eyes ; And when she spoke, he listened with a strange eagerness. A harsh "nice, and badly chosen language would have spoilt the illusion, but ho was not disappointed ; indeed, it was delightful to hear Rosamund talk. Her voice was sweet and low, and matched her eyes i and general demeanor perfectly. She was educated, refined and clever in a quiet, unassuming way. He would remember every incident of that fragrant Sunday evening tea until the last day of his life. The tea, with bread and ibutter and watercresses—never before had the tasted such tea! The snowy-white table cloth, the quaintly shaped • silver spoons, the. daintiness, the sweetness of everything. And he was talking to Rosamund, and listening to Rosamund! He spoke of his fancied dream about sea faries and the music. And after j. the tea things were cleared away, Rosamund played the same music again.

"Yes, you are good at adventure Cm-roe,' or 'Treasure Island,' cutting nut the descriptive ma Iter. Yve shall want at least four serials, and f roniispeice to catch the hoys. Treacherous little 'beasts they are! Now, i will bo off. I've got a Jot of people to hunt up—artists and authors —and there will soon be work for Mr Grantley in the financial department. Keep your cheque book handy, sir." "And I suppose I must begin to keep office hours, too?" "After Wednesday—yes. I've go; my eye on a smart young fellow to d< the publishing, and to keep people from worrying you. As soon as the doors are open for business, the men who know everything will be looking in to give you advice, and borrow a sovereign." Before Brown left he flourished half a dozen contemporary juvenile papers 1 mxler Jack's nose.

| "Those are the things that sell, nowadays," he said. "They'll give you an idea of the sort of publication we want. We can beat any of them into fits."

Jack was of the same opinion after inspecting them, and began thinkinp out a scheme for his adventure story. The work was exactly to his taste, and his pen was soon flying over paper —sheet after sheet. He pegged away until dusk, and felt satisfied that the first instalment would hold the reader in a. state of breathless expectancy. ' One more chapter, and a curtain. He went into the street for r. breather and a smoke. Mr Grant waf on his own doorstep, and Jack crossed over to speak to him. He asked afteMiss Giant, and heard that she had gone away for a few days. Jack felt glum. He understood now why lie had failed to catch a glimpse of her at the window. "Been a meeting of conspirators today?" smiled Grant. "I saw your manager and Mr Dennington go into j your office this morning. Did you say that Mr Dennington was a relative?" "Eh? No!" "Wonderfully alike—l mean in profile. You'll come to tea next Sunday?" "I don't want to impose upon your ■ good nature, 'Mr Grant." "Fiddlesticks! I want somebody to have a talk with." "Then I won't fail you," Jack readily answered. "Been busy?" "Busy? Bah 1 ! Sometimes I don't have a customer in the shop for days. Don't ask me questions about my business, or I shall get angry. Now.. I'm going to shut up shop. Will you help me. I miss Itoramufkl now more than at any time. All these valuables have to be taken out of the window and locked up in that big safe over there." "If you can trust me to handle them. 'Are they very valuable?" ! 'Theodore Grant shrugged his shoulders. v ' '.. " "Threo thousand..pounds!" . While the jewellery was being put in the safe, Grant talked a good deal about himself. He confessed to Having been a university man —a professor of jurisprudence at Cambridge and he was highly interested in the careers of the rising young lawyers of the day. "You wonder that I should be here —a shopkeeper, Mr Castlemain. Well, go on wondering, for I have no intention of enlightening you!, Now, < what are you going to do over the way, my friend? Publish? There are papers and books without end already. A boys' sensational paper? And you prostitute your talents on such trash? yon think that I'm a mystery, Mr Castlemqine, and I know tnat ou are! Don't forget next Sunday, but I shall see you again before then. Good-night—good-night." (To be Continued).

Then came church-going time, and Jack would have 'liked to have gone, too, hut Mr Grant preferred home and his pipe. "Rosamund rarely misses' 1 church," Theodore Grant said. "The brightness and the singing make a change for her after this dull house. Old fogies, like you and me, enjoy a talk and a smoke." Jack had left before Rosamund ) came home, and he did not see her again, although lie watched from his window. All that had happened in a I few short hours,.and now life held a new interest for him. He rose rather early, imbued with the knowledge that the day was 'big with events. He looked at his reflection in fhe glass, and thought of Mr Grant's words, "old fogies, like you and me." He was barely thirty-years of age, and Grant was sixty-five if he were a day 1 Oh, it was too absurd. But the black hair and beard, plentifully springled with grey, were misleading. At a little distance he impressed people with ths idea that he was an elderly man. It was rather vexing when he desired to appear in the most favourable light to the girl over the way. At eleven, o'clock that morning was the all-important meeting for the purpose of arranging immediate operations. Teddy Brown and Grant-ley' Bennington arrived together, and Jack cried>: "Business iat last! Come up to my sitting room." ~"And quite time, too," said, Brown. <v Two hundred pounds a year rent, and a hundred in rates and taxes going on. We've got to hurry now to catch, the tail of the season for I>oys' ; stuff. The late summer months are fatal to success." The three men sat down at the table i and Jack told Teddy Brown to fire away. "I am practically in" your hands, Brown. You know what goes on a small expenditure, and where there's a gap in' the market." "There isn't a gap anywhere, but we've got to preach about the long-, felt want; we've got to rush out something, and if it's fresh looking, it will find a place for itself." "Well, what is it to be? I can sec that you have got it all cut and dried, Brown." . "A .boys' paper, sir." "A what?" roared Jack. : "My dear fellow,"» expostulated Grantley. _ "A 'boys' weekly paper,' Brown went on firmly. ''A penny dreadful. The very best firms publish tnat sort of thing, but I don't propose to give it a sentimental title, such as the 'Boys' Guide,' with lawn tennis bats, and rabbits, and a text worked into the title. Let's be honest, as the. papers of our .boyhood were. V\ e intend being frankly sensational and among half a dozen slashing titles L prefer the 'Sons of Britannia —bold letters with a background ot. Britannia and the good old lion—all bristling with modern armaments. "But does this sort of thing selWasked Jack, doubtfully. "I wanted to , issue something decent."