Novelist.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXI, Issue 2546, 3 November 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

Novelist.

AN OLD SCORE. ♦— • BY EBEDEKICK TALBOT,

Author of "Jack Pugh's Legacy,' "Through Fire and Water," &c.

CHAPTER HI. (continued)

Georgie shuddered as her father came to pause in his story. " My poor father," she said stroking Ins grey hairs compassionately, " What you must have suffered." " For a time," went on Mason, " I bore my punishment without murmuring. A convict prison seemed to me a refuge from the world in which I had no more a place. But as the time deadened my sorrow and regret —not for him. Georgie, I had no remorse to spare for him—but for my poor wife, and for you, Georgie, compelled to eat the bread of dependence, the desire of life revived in me. And with that I began to hate the friend, a "word from whom might have saved me. He was living no doubt in wealth and luxury, whilst I was eating my heart out in solitude, or in companionship worse than solitude, tho of menials, no longer a man but a mere number, driven by a machine-like system from one hateful task to another. And then I made up my mind to escape—to escape and track out the false friend ■who had abandoned me to misery. The thought of escape gave me strength and courage to live through the long dreary days, the cold and silent nights. And yet to escape seemed impossible without a friend outside to help me. From the prison itself it seemed hopeless, and •when we worked at thoquarrios theie •was always a warder watching every movement with a loaded rillo in his

hand. Once I saw a chance and made a run for it, but I was knocked over and brought back by a sentry, and after that I went about with my legs in irons. Then I almost despaired ; but in my misery came a ray of light from without. Among a party of gentlemen who visited the prison I recognised one of my former friends. "lie had come with one of the visiting justices, and without appearing to recognise me he questioned me, as if officially, as to the treatment I received. ' Stand back,' he said to the warder who kept close to us.'' '1 lie convict can't speak freely with you listening.' The man retired out of earshot. ' Now,' said my old friend, ' can I do any thing for you V 1 iirst of all, I asked, 'where is rny daughter?' ' Very happy and comfortable,' said my friend, 'getting an excellent education at a school in Croiuwell square, London.' There was joy in that, Georgie ; and then I asked 1 Where is Deluce V My friend shook his head. ' A great man I have heard ; but there is a kind of mystery there. I know nothing.' 1 You can do nothing more for me,' I said ' unless you can help me to escape.' My friend shook his head. '• I dare not,' he said, 1 but watch me as I walk away and take notice.' And then he called to the warder, 1 This man has no complaints to make." ' 1 should think not,' replied the warder, 1 lie's treated a deal better than he deserves.' ' But can't you take the irons off him.' 'Can't trust him, sir,' said the warder.

I watched my friend walk away, and after he had gono a few dozen yards he stopped to fasten his shoe lace. I marked in my mind the place where he stopped, and worked my way round to it gradually, and there under a stone. I found a ten pound note. You may think that a bank note would not be much use in prison ; there are ways and means that an old prisoner knows by heart. And the end of that ten pound note was that I got ten minutes law one dark night and made for the shore, where I found a fisherman waiting with a boat. I threw overboard my convict's dress and gpt an old suit from the fisherman! I broke the chain of my shackles easily enough, but I couldn't get rid of the rings which were welded 011. And so I tied them up as best 1 could and set off on the tramp for London. I wanted to have one look at you, Georgie, but I didn't think that itiv little girl could be that lino, handsomehappy-lcoking young lady. And then I saw the watch lying in the gutter, and I would have taken it and sold it to buy food, but I found it was yours, Georgie, and so I wrote that letter.

" And now I have one thing to do before I die—to find out my false friend and bring him low. I have tried him before the tribunal of my own conscience. I have said to myself if the case were mine and I had thus abandoned a friend to destruction, what should I deserve 1 And I sentenced the man. I would track him out and strike him in the midst of his insolent pride and wealth. Yes, I'll do it still, Georgie," cried Mason, his face darkened with passion, and striking his clenched fist on the table.

" Oh, father !" cried Georgie, " forgive him. Perhaps he really could not help you. Think, to tell the truth was to disgrace his wife, the mother of his children, to ruin their future." "I have thought of that, said Mason gloomily, " and all that will not save them. No, I know his old haunts, his old friends. He may have changed his name, his country but I shall find him out and bring to a terrible account. But one thing could have saved him. Yes," continued Mason, a softer expression coming over his face, " I thought of you, too, Georgie, in all those dreary years. Your name was always on my lips—it was your mother's also. And I always said to myself if that man has ever done a kindness to my girl,—if he has sought her out and done in ever so little a father's part by her, then I'll for"ive him—-ave, and I'll even b'ess him."

" Ah, then," cried Georgie, rising and clasping her hands in joy and thankfulness, " we are saved !" "What do you mean, Georgie 1" cried her father, astonished " Never mind, father," said Georgie. "You stay here, and don't put your face out of doors till I come back. Lock the door after me, and don't answer anybody till you hear my three little raps. For I have been uneasy about our neighbours lately ; they have been so prying and curious." '• Georgie dressed herself in plain black, and started for Gaunt Gate. She saw everything clearly now. She had fathomed the mystery of the Anonymous Benefactor. She knew why Mr Tryfoil had received her with such kindness as his son's bride. She saw the cause of the persistent coldness and gloom that marked the relations between Mr Tryfoil and his wife. For Henry Tryfoil, of Gaunt Gate, and Marry Deluce, her father's old friend, were one and the same, and tho Anonymous Benefactor was no longer anonymous to her, but bore the same double designation. But when she reached Gaunt Gate, she looked up at the house, she saw evidences of a change. The house looked still and gloomy-—over the door was a hatchment which announces death amongst distinguished people, like those that | dwell about Gaunt Gate. It was

with a quaking heart that she lifted the huge knocker, and when she saw a powdered footman, all in decorous black, her knees knocked together. If it should be Vincent who was dead! "It is the mistress of the house who is dead," the footman said, in a low voice. " The funeral was ©nly yesterday. Master is in his study but sees nobody. Still, for you, Miss," said the footman, who had now recognised the visitor.

" Let me find my way to him by myself," and she ran upstairs, and opening the door of the study softly, she saw the master of the house sitting there with his back to the door absorbed in gloomy, sorrowful thought. Georgie advanced quietly, he had not noticed the opening of the doer, and laid her hand on his shoulder. He. looked up startled. Photographs were on the table; one of his late wife in the bloom of her beauty; another of a young and bright looking man in easy morning dress, and with a face full of health and happiness. Georgie recognised the face although so wofully altered. It was hor father's. She laid her hand upon the photograph. " Come and look at him now," she said.

" I have been expecting this— but not from your hands, Georgie," said Mr Tryfoil, in a resigned voice in which there was a touch of reproach. And then he followed her without another word They took a cab and hurried down to Fulham. Georgie gave her three little knocks and her father opened the door. " Other people have been knocking, Georgie," he said, in an alarmed tone, and then seeing Georgie'n companion, lie staggered back. "Great God ! who is this I'' he cried. " Father," cried Georgie, " this is the man who lias done everything for me since I was a child. He would even have given me his son —to me, a convict's daughter. And now you have promised to forgive him and even bless him."

" Georgie," said Mr Tryfoil, coming forward," I can do you justice now. She is dead and my son has gone away—" " Oh !" cried Georgie, with a cry of alarm. " Vincent is gone !" Just at that moment a heavy footstep 011 the stairs, and Georgie saw the head of her neighbour, the policeman, peering over the banisters. Not in friendly guise, as had sometimes been the case, with a glengairy 011 the top and a pipe in his mouth, but in full panoply of crest and helmet, while behind were seen the heads of oilier constables. " Begging your pardon, miss," said the policeman," but there's a person here concealed, name of George Mason, for whom a reward has been offered as an escaped convict. We'll do things quietly and amiably if there's no obstruction." " Look here, constable," said Mr Tryfoil, coming forward, " you know me, I think—Mr Tryfoil— one of the county magistrates and member of Parliament," The policeman touched his hat and said he knew him quite well. " Then I will be answerable for George Mason, and for the reward offered. Now, take me before your superior officer, and I will tell him a tale that will, I think, result in the rolea.se of Mr Mason, and the capture of somebody else." " Oh, nonsense, liarry," cried Mason, pushing past the other. " Here am I, the man you want, constables, I'll go with you quietly." " That's comfortable," said the policeman, taking Mason by the arm.

" Georgie, God bless you. Harry, take care of her," cried Mason, and in a moment he was marched away. Georgie and Mr Tryfoil looked at each other in blank dismay. " Come with me, Georgie," said Mr Tryfoil at last, and they jumped into tho cab that was still waiting. " House of Commons," shouted Mr Tryfoil, and away they went at full speed.

Everywhere else the streets looked gloomy and dull in the coming night although twinkling gas-lamps were springing to light in all directions. But about the palace of Westminster all was in a blaze of light had made everything visible as day, the great pile with a yellow glow through its countless windows, the court yard with cabs and carriages dashing to and fro, and their lamps like glow-worms lights utidsr the pale moonlight of summer night. Here the day's work was just beginning in earnest, everything in the bubble and glow in the great central crucible of English life. Mr Tryfoil darted from his cab and drew Georgie after him along gilded corridors and lobbies, till they came to a central hall, strewn and littered with torn papers, and beyond, an open door, in and out of which all sorts of men were continually darting, beardless young fellows with tall collars, and grey stubbly-bearded elders with 110 collars at all, and shocking bad hats. A peep through the door revealed a confused crowd of faces and hats, and the gleam of a golden mace, while out of the hum and tumult of voices rose every now and then a voice with a rolling mellow cadence, as if it were an officiating priest's in some cathedral choir. " Wait a moment for me, Georgie," said Mr Tryfoil, darting in at the door of the beehive. He came out again presently, accompanied by a tall, massive-looking man, massive in form and features, to whom he talked long and earnestly, with sometimes a glance at Georgie. The

massive man frowned sometimes, and sometimes half smiled, and sometimes shook his head. Whatever Mr Tryfoil might be urging upon his companion, he evidently found it a tough business to work through. At last he beckoned to Georgie, who approached with a sinking heart, feeling that here everything was coming to a crisis. " Here is the girl," said Mr Tryfoil, " who has set you at defiance so long." The massive man held out his hand and gave Georgie's little palm a good grip, " Good girl, good girl," he muttered, and then with a twinkle in his eyes ho seized Tryfoil by the arm with one hand, and Georgie by the other. " Come along this way," he said, and took thorn to a little writing room, where he sat down and dashed off a note which lie folded and slipped into Georgie's hands. " Don't lGt it go into the papers,'' he cried, in an audible aside, to Tryfoil, and then vanished.

" Our business is finished now, Georgie," said Mr Tryfoil, with a sigh of relief, "your father is a free man."

My Tryfoil wanted to take Gcovgie and her father bade with him to Gaunt-gate, but Georgie said no. They would stop in Mignon-ette-road unless "Vincent catne back and fetched her away. But she went back to teach at Miss Lamprey's where the girls made a great fuss over her, and the marchioness wanted to borrow her for an evening to give eclat to one of her entertainments. But presently Vincent came back from his travels and soon there was a grand marriage at St. George's, Hanover-square, when all the world, which had somehow got hold of part of the story, flocked to see the bride, who was Georgie, of course, and the very distinguishedlooking old gentleman who had, so the story went, once been a pickpocket. But George Mason did not care what people said, and went back to Mignonette-road, where he may still be met with —a quiet elderly man, who likes to smoke his pipe at the garden-gate and talk to his neighbour, the policeman, and who does not care to be bothered about anything, While, as for Georgie and her husband, they are happy in themselves and in their little boy— who is also called George, and is generally known as the Prince Regent, from his domineering ways —an unlucky name, perhaps, but Vincent would have it so. Well, in their happiness they have ceased to think much about the darkness left behind. And then, Miss Lamprey had retired with a fortune, and is taking out her bad debts in invitations to distinguished houses; and everywhere she sounds the praises of Mrs Vincent Tryfoil, Sylvia, again, has married a very substantial baronet, and Mr Tryfoil is talked of as likely to be in office before long; so that altogether the house of Tryfoil has reason to hope that its prosperity is on sure foundations, and is never likely to be disturbed by the bringing up of what, after all, is a Very Old Score, THE END.