Novelist.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXI, Issue 2540, 20 October 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

Novelist.

AN OLD SCORE. BY FREDERICK TALBOT, Author of ".Tack Pugh's Legacy,'' "Through Fire and Water," &c. CHAPTER 11.— Suspicion Verified. Eoit one moment Georgie hesitated as she stood on the threshold of the house before she closed the door behiud her. A superstitious kind of dread fell upon her. It was as if she were leaving all her good fortune behind her—her pleasant young lover, and all that he could endow her with, social distinction, domestic happiness, a life free from carking care, and lightened by all manner of pleasures. On the other side lay the dark night and the miry ways, and a shivering outcast, waiting for her at the corner of a miserable street. But Georgie was a courageous girl, and hesitated only a moment. The door slammed'] behind a heavy hopeless sort of "M ancl Geogie darted quickly silong to the railway station, not more than a few hundred yards distant. The fog had come on thickly now, and the street lamps could only be made out singly, each surrounded by a watery halo, and •disappearing in the mist as its neighbour was sighted, that showed like a nebulous star in the far distance. And, well as she knew the •way, Georgie was puzzled for a moment at the cornev of the Square, and to cross the road was like taking a plunge into chaos. But along the underground line the trains were running in regular order, and although their progress was accompanied by a running fire of fog

signals, yet atill they did progress, and Georgie was put down at St. James's Park Station not many minutes later. But once out of the station, and among the narrow, ill looking streets that surround it, Georgie was considerably embarrassed. She did not like to ask a policeman, because she guessed that her anonymous correspondent might be shy of addressing her if he or she, as the case might be, saw her in parley with a policeman, and the people she saw lurking at street corners, or lounging about doorways, did not inspire confidence by their personal appearance. And then Big Ben struck eight in harsh muffled tones, and Georgie felt as if she would be too late after all. But as she stood at the corner of a street irressolute, not knowing which way to turn, she heard a voice just close to her ear, " You are the young lady who lost a watch." Yes, there was the trampishlooking man she had seen in the Square, looking if anything more pale and miserable than ever in the damp, foggy surroundings. Georgie started, and felt inclined to run away, and, then, steadying her voice she replied— "Yes, I have lost a watch. Have you got it ?" " Walk a little way with me," he said, in a low tone. " There are some men watching, asl think, from the corner. Come away to where it is still darker." Georgie trembled but followed. " First of all," said the man, in a low, hollow voice, as they stood under the shelter of some ruined buildings, in course of destruction for the improvement of a new street. " First of all, how am I to know who I am dealing with ? What is your name, please? I don't mean any rudensss, but I want to know just who it is I am dealing with." The manner of this trampishlooking man was so gentle, and even refined, that Georgie found her confidence returning. She told her name, even her address as well. " A nd now," said the man, with a searching glance at her face, "will you tell me please, how you came by the watch ?" Georgie felt that it was rather too much, to be cross-examined in this way by this common, shabby kind of person, presumably not over honest; but still there was nothing offensive in his manner, and indeed there was something reassuring in his ardent anxiety to satisfy himself as to the real ownership of the watch. So she replied briefly that the watch was a present from a friend.

" The friend with the mailphreton, the proud young fellow ?" asked the tnan sharply. Georgie nodded. " And what is lie to you, then ?" demanded the other almost savagely. " Well," said Georgie, shyly, " I suppose he is what you would call my young man." " Do you mean he asked you to marry him 1 " asked the trampishlooking man anxiously. " Well, yes," said Georgie, boldly, " there is no secret about it, we are to be married soon." " And his name 1 asked the other. " Now, why do you want to know his name "? " demanded Georgie, fearing some mischief to her lover from this strange creature. " You asked his none before, you know, from his groom. What good will his name do you." " Well, tell me, child," demanded the man, authoritatively. " What harm can one like me do to one like him, even if I wished 1 " The man surveyed his mean and tattered garments with a kind of scorn. " Well, his name is Tryfoil," replied Georgie rather over-awed. " and now tell me what you know about my watch and let me go." She pictured to herself Miss Lamprey in a state of rampant indignation and wonder at her absence, and was eager to get away. " Just one minute," asked the man, almost imploringly. "Tell me, do you know anyone of the name of Deluce.

Georgie shook her head. " Stay" she said, after a moment. " I fancy I remembersuch a name as a child." " But I don't mean as a child," cried the man hastily. " You have lost your parents, have you not 1 " Yes, I have lost 'my parents" answered Georgie wonderingly, " but the watch —' " Stay," said the trampish man" bethink you has anyone of the name I mentioned—has any Deluce ever done you a service, ever helped you on your way of life, ever befriended you when you needed a friend." " No, I am quite sure of that," replied, Georgie, deoidely ; wondering all the while whether or no the man were purposely wasting time, ''except as a faint memory I don't even know the name—and my watch—" " There is your watch," said the man, suddenly thrusting a packet into Georgie's hand. It was carefully wrapped up in an old cambric handkerchief, and Georgie opened a corner and saw the pretty little golden toy lying snugly in its wrapper ; she kissed it with enthusiasm, and turned to her companion. She had no notion of making a bargain, and had settled in her own mind what she would pay to get the watch back, and so without more ado she poured the ten sovereigns

warm from her soft velvet palm into the man's outstrecthed hand. " What's this." cried the man with a wolfish look at the bright gold. " As a reward," cried Georgie, " for getting me back my watch ; but I am still much obliged to you, so now, good-night. I can find my way to the station, but good-night, and a merry Christmas to your poor wife and children." " Stop," cried the man, roughly but huskily, as if thoroughness were more assumed than real. " Take your money back, child :" as he placed the little pile of gold in Geoogie's hands " Do you think I would rob you of your little hoard?' Georgie's mind was divided between wonder, compassion, and a certain amount of pleasureatgetting her watch back on such easy terms. And then as she saw her companion's want and suffering face, the compassion overcame all her other feelings. " Take the money, ray friend," she said. " I really can afford it ; and think of your wife and ■ " " I have no wife, no child," cried the man in a tone of anguish. And then a strange unaccountable thing happened. This trampish, thievishlooking man covered his eyes with the sleeve of his tattered coat and burst into tears. Poor Georgie's tender heart was strongly moved. There was some sad story about the poor man's life no doubt. Some heartbreaking bereavement that had driven him to the life of an outcast, even to the extent of taking people's watches. She could forgive him all that, especially as he had been so considerate in her behalf.

" Come," she said to him, touching him gently on the arm," " the dead are in peace, and the past can't be altered. Now you must think of yourself. Take this money and begin a new life with it. I am sure if you ever have done wrong it was because you were driven to it. And this will give you a chance to make a new beginning, and if you want a recommendation to get into some employment I am sure Mr Tryfoil would help you." " No, not that," crieil the tattered man, waving away Georgie's hand, as he kept his head averted from her as though ashamed of the emotion he had shown. " Anything but that. Away with you, my girl, and go to your home and your sweetheart, and be happy. Goodbye, my lass , good-bye, and God bless you." There was a tone of such poignant emotion in the man's voice that Georgie looked after him in stupefied amazement as he shambled painfully away. He turned round once to look, and seeing Georgie standing there as if rooted to the spot, he hastened away still faster, and disappeared round the corner of the ruined buildings. But next moment Georgie heard the sound of a heavy fall, followed by a deep groan, and running to the spot she saw the man who had just left her stretched at full length on the ground. His face was pale and bloodless, and he lay there motionless as if dead, while one of his ankles rudely swathed in bandages showed a massive iron ring firmly welded round it with the remains of a shackle fastened to it that had been broken off short in some violent way.

" Here is an escaped convict," said Georgie to herself, and she felt very much inclined to run away and leave things to take their chance, especially as two or three people attracted by the noise of the fall had come to look on. These were not of the predatory sort, however, but bricklayers' labourers apparently in their rough mudstained garments, and a girl of the same class. " Hold up, old man " said one of them, and lifted the man's head and shoulders and placed him in a sitting position against the wall. " He seems to have got his blessed gvuel," said another. " No! he can talk a bit," said the first labourer. " What is it, ole man, what has tipped ye over." " Listen Bill," said the girl. " He's asking for somebody." Indeed the fallen man opened his lips once or twice, and then cried in a heart-broken voice, " Georgie."

" There ain't no Georgies here, old man," said the first labourer, in a kindly manner. "We're just Bill and Tom." But Georgie herself, who was standing irresolute close at hand, understood the ery, but hesitated to respond to it. She saw it all now, and wondered why she had been blind so long. This poor creature was her father. Kind, if not judicious, friends had concealed from her the fact that he was a convict. He had made his way from prison. He had known that his daughter was at Miss Lamprey's school, and had found his way there, hoping perhaps to recognise her. Then he had taken or perhaps found Georgie's watch ; and the little seal with the initials would have revealed to him his daughter's identity. And then he had written for this one interview, which he had meant should be the last. " Fetch a copper, Bill," cried the "irl, who was looking on, " and let him take the cove to the 'orspital." Still Georgie hesitated. In a few moments she would be back at the railway station. She would soon after reach Cornwall Square. Miss Lamprey would be delighted to condone being kept waiting, in view of

the recovered watch, the family party who were no doubt fuming and fretting about the non-arrival of the chief guests would soon be at their ease, everything would go on just as if there had been no such ugly episode as the escaped convict and his chains. She had owly to shut her eyes for a few moments, and the obstacle that now threatened to ruin her life would disappear of itself. The escaped convict would be taken away to the hospital, where his broken shackles would at once proclaim his quality. From the hospital he would go back to the convict prison. The black cloud in the brightness of her life would have disappeared as quickly as it had arisen. But the voice of the stricken man was raised once more and in the same imploring accents, " Georgie," and at this the girl hesitated no more, but ran and threw herself on her knees before him, and placed her arm under his head. " I am here, father," she said, "Trust in me." And then she called to one of the labourers, a good deal astonished at this sudden apparition. " Fetch a cab, my good man, quick, run, and I will pay you well." In a few minutes the laboui-er returned with a four-wheeled cab. There were plenty of volunteers now to raise the fallen man and haul him into the cab. Just as Georgie took her seat beside her father a policemon came up with his lantern and shone it upon the assembled group. " What's the matter here V' he cried, peering in at the door of the cab. "It is only my father who is taken ill." said Georgie. "Policeman, tell the man to drive to 91 Cornwall Square."

The policeman touched his hat and obeyed, impressed by Georgie's appearance and the aristocratic address, and the cab, with a lurch or two, as it passed over the ruts in the new street, drove slowly on. The fog was still thick, and the cab could only crawl along at a foot's pace often coming to a standstill altogether at the crossing of some great thoroughfare, where misty lights flitted to and fro, and voices were heard in the air from invisible speakers overheard. It was a terribly long and dreary drive for Georgie. Her companion moved once or twice and breathed heavily, but made no further sign, and Georgie in the silence and darkness was left to her gloomy forebodings of the future, in which there seemed no possible ray of light. At last the cab stopped at Miss Lambrey's door, and Georgie jumped out. Loftus opened the door, and, at the sight of her, forgetting all the lessons of decorum he had received, dashed wildly across the hall, shouting, " She's come back, here she is." Eoberts, the man-servant, ran out to meet her, his face expressing joy and bewilderment. " Oh, Miss Georgie, where have you been, Missus'is out of her mind almost," and next moment Sylvia sprang upon Georgio and clasped her in her arms. '! Oh, my darling, we thought you had run away. Vincent is wild with terror; he is searching for you everywhere." Georgie gently disengaged herself.

" Sylvia," she cried, " something has happened; something I can't tell you even. I must see Miss Lamprey this instant." With Miss Lamprey, annoyance and indignation had been succeeeded by alarm and misgivings as time passed away and no Georgie appeared. Now, in her relief and thankfullness she was ready to condone her own disappointment and the ruin wrought in the Tryfoil's dinner party; but Georgie's face, white and resolute, and with a quite altered expression, startled her into fresh alarm. " Miss Lamprey," gasped Georgie, " I have found my feather." " Your father!" cried Miss Lamprey, faintly startled out of all her reticence. " What, George Mason, the convict. Have you found him ? Impossible !" "Ah ! you knew it then !" cried George, who might perhaps in the interval have cherished some faint hope that the whole was some gross delusion that Miss Lamprey would clear up. " Well," she whispered, approaching Miss Lamprey's chair, " he has escaped ;he is in imminent danger ; I have brought him here."

" What, here, to my house !" cried Miss Lamprey ; all the kindness of her nature curdled at the horror. " Georgie, you wicked girl, send him away instantly. Give him some money and send him away. Tell him if he is about the premises in five minutes from now I will give him in custody." " Five minutes," cried Georgie, " you give us five minutes. It is not long, but it is enough." Georgie flew upstairs, packed a few indispensibles of the toilet, with the few valuables that were her very own. All the gifts she had recently received from the Tryfoils and other friends, including the fatal watch, she places in a small bag, and handed it to Mrs Lamprey, who, stupefied and dazed in the crisis, hardly seemed to hear Georgie's farewell. " Georgie, you are mad. Come back, child," she cried. But Georgie would not come back. She gave the astonished Sylvia a hasty embrace. "My dear I am going to be a pariah and an outcast, and you must never speak to me again." And she was gone before Sylvia could utter a word of remonstrance, But the most try-

ing part of all was to meet Vincent on the steps—Vincent, who seized her in his arms. "Georgie, you are safe, thank God. -What a terrible fright you gave me." " You musn't stop me, Vincent," cried Georgie. " There, I will give you one kiss, and now good-bye. It is all over between us, Vincent," she whispered in his ear. " You could not marry a convict's daughter, you know." Vincent recoiled for a moment, and Georgie slipped away from him. " You must not try to find me," were her last words. " That would ruin all. Good-bye." Georgie gave directions to the cabman in a low voice, jumped into the cab, and drove away. (To be continued.)