THE Golden Opportunity.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 43, 14 January 1921, Page 14

THE Golden Opportunity.

Captain Jack Fleet, gentleman of the road, had given an attentive ear that evening to the garrulous confidences of f"he unsuspicious and melancholy individual in clercial garb. A contrast in appearance — for Fleet's polished bearing was set off by a gallant and pleasing exterior — they shared one thing in common : an appreciation of mulled sack, warmed to a comforting temperature. It transpired from the good man's conversation that My Lord Bishop had conceived the notion to erect a stained-glass window in the cathedral of the diocese, commemorative of the nappy times now come, through the sudden flight of His Catholic Majesty, King James II. Further, a gift of one hundred guineas had been promised by a wealthy wood-mer-chant, named Harbourne, who lived a league or so hence on the lonely Portsmouth Road, and whose handiwork marred the grandeur of many a church interior ; and since it was not seemly for his lordship to call for the subscription personally, it had been arranged that the sum should be collected by that humble prelate, Dr Scaife. Unfortunately, although Scaife had started out early that afternoon, he had come to miss his way, and so sought advice and cheer in the first tavern encountered. Outside, the wind whined across the heath and swirled round the old building with an impetuosity which drew the shrieking complaint of the rusted signboard in the forecourt and the groans of the aged joists of the edifice. "'Tis such a nifght as the devil loves," said Scaife, moodily. "True," gravely responded the tobyman. "On such nights he leaves hiy horns at home and goes abroad with a mare and a brace of barkers." The clergyman shivered. His hard features, which hung heavy with the weight of his fellow-creatures' sins, grew thoughtful. He glanced at the other and approved the straight countenance with its tumbled framework of dark eurls; but neverle&s, was vaguely puzzled by tba debonair personality# At length he took a decision. "My friend," he said, "on such a night a journey goes quicker and more pleasantly when 'tis shared. Since you are familiar with the location of Mr Harbourne's residence, it seems to me that your way may also lie in that direction, in the which case I should esteem your company a privilege." "Why as to that, sir,'' smiled Fleet, "you take the words from my mouth, for I rnust pass the house in any case." "Then I propose we delay no longer, ' Scaife said, "for while I observe that you have supped, I confess to not having broken my fast since noon. Alas, how gross are the needs of the body ! ' ' "And as pressing as the needs of the soul," the highwayman piously observed, rising readily. In due course, mounted and abreast, they put the nags into the teeth of the wind, and forged into the fitful gioom of the heath. Above a running wrack of clouds obscured by moments the bright face of the moon, and at intervals around the travellers the trees responded shrilly to the breath of the tempest. As they rode the highwayman decided on a plan which promised a pretty entertainment for the evening. Presently the clergyman burst forth anew. "Friend," he said, "methinks I see the hand of Providence in this meeting, for to me, lost in the outer darkness, you are as a beacon in the night, a bright star of hope in the encompassing blackness." By this time they had reached the main track across the heath, which in one direction led to the Portsmouth road and in the other to the road borderihg the farther side of the treed expanse. To Jack Fleet it seemed as good a spot as any for enlightening the clergyman to the true, if unfortunate state of affairs. "Doctor," quoth he, levelling the barkers, "alas for the beacons that burn out and the stars that fade! My name is Jack Fleet, and I hold a commission under his late Majesty . which I am loth to relinquish till he has the ordering of it. In the meantime a poor devil rnust live, and his Lordship's stained-glass window can but wait.'' The uncertain moonlight revealed to the highwayman a look on the clerio's mournful face so comic in its consternation that Fleet burst into an involuntary

yyyy m/"v v v > vvv vvv v v vvvv\ v vy&a ^ chuckle. Both horses had come to a standstill. "Indeed," stammered Scaife, "I scarce take your meaning. Surely there is some ill-timed jest in this?" "Why, as you say," returned Fleet, "there is humour in the situation. The truth is I have a mind to collect the Bishop's donation myself, for the which purpose I rnust request a loan of the som. bre garments you carry with such a cheerful air." "You— you take your jest too far, sir," Scaife stuttered. With a difficult scowl Fleet bent forward and pointed a weapon at the prelate's head. "Come, doctor," he exclaimed, sharply. "You see the fiery sort of beacon I am. 'Tis no fault of yours that Providence has fetched you a shooting star in place of the one you imagined. Divest with a good grace, or, damme, you shall sup off lead !" Aware perforce of the trap into which he had fallen, Scaife dismounted and slowly took off his ample jacket which he placed, at Fleet's direction, in a heap at his feet. A further command saw the clergyman's shovel hat join the heap. This done, Fleet dealt the other's nag a sliarp blow on the hindquarters and away the animal thundered into the gloom. "Now, doctor," he said, "a chill is easy caught these nights, but the tavern is handy and the house of Harbourne a far cry. I counsel the former, and will give myself the pleasure of observing how sage is the advice ^ the alacrity with which you recognise it." "Sir," snarled Scaife, "the wayg of Providence are inscrutable, and no man knoweth whence cometh the retribution which shall overtake him in the moment of evil-doing. I would urge you even in this hour of sin to fly its lure and leave victory to righteousness. " "Sir," retorted the tobyman, "if, as you have said, the needs of the body are gross I would add they are afso vastly | compelling, and I connot stomach the thought of your smug rustics gazing com. fortably up at a hundred-guineas' worth of coloured glass while another goes hungry for the lack of the goldfinches. " "Nevertheless," recommended the divins. "Curse me! Am I here to bandy words with you till day breaks? Off with you!" Daring no further protestation Scaife followed his nag into the darkness. II. There was no timidity in the thunderous summons with which Captain Jack Fleet, in the role of the Bishop's emissary, announced his arrival at the house of Harbourne, and the footman's duty of announcement was rendered abortive by the appearance of Harbourne himself. "My name is Dr Scaife," commenced the highwayman, with deep solemnity. "Doubtless his Lordship has expiained my errand to you, sir. I am heartily glad to have arrived, for there was a time I had not thought to get here." Harbourne returned his bow with a nod and surveyed Fleet with an expression 'n which disappointment struggled unsuccessfully to conceal itself. In the thin merchant's sallow face and narrowed eyes the fox and the jackal fought inl determinately for dominance, while his ' manner was a nice blend of servility and peevishness. "I had almost given you up, sir," said he, in a way which indicated that he considered the other's late arrival an outtrage. "In truth my daughter and I have already supped." "Why, then there is no ha-rm done," Fleet returned. "In the service of the ; Church the mortification of the flesh is of primary importance." "Nay, nay," Harbourne exclaimed. "Since the food has been prepared for you 'twould be a sinful waste to leave it. Have the goodness to step this way, sir." » A small fire was glowing to its end in ■ the low panelled apartment into which I Harbourne showed his guests andthetable j bore the remains of a meagre meal. "There, sir," Harbourne invited, indicating a chair j "draw up and commence. An 'twill not inconvenience you I will have my say while ye eat." "By no means, sir," said Fleet. "No meal is impaired by the spice of a little pleasant dis course j" and fell to.

Harbourne tentatively coughed. He seemed to have a difficulty in choosing his words. The truth was his visitor s arrival had dissipated his last hope of clinging to his money, for his promise to the Bishop of a subscription for the stained-glass window had been made in the hope of secuxing an ecclesiastical contract, and he had faint expectation of the Bishop's scheme coming to the point of execution. When at last he spoke the servility of his manner was uppermost. "Look ye, doctor," he exclaimed. "Between the two of us, whose gains are hardly earned and who have a strong sense of what is due to the Church, there is scarce need to explain that upon occasion a man's promise exceeds his power of performance." There was an ominous ring about this utterance which gave the highwayman little satisfaction. "Come," he rallied the other, "a promise made by Mr Harbourne is a sacred bond, as all know. Moreover, the Bishop's arrangements are completed. He has ordered the execution of the work. Indeed, sir, I dare not return to his Lordship with my errand unfulfilled." Harbourne rose and paced moroseiy up and down. "Well, well," he said. "I must needs scrape together the sum. Yet fifty .guineas is overmuch to give." He ceased to pace to and fro and bent a cunning look at the other's back. Fleet lowered his knife. "As you say, sir," he corrected, "a hundred guineas is a large sum, yet nothing to an honest man of means like yourself ; and since it purchases for you the Bishop's high esteem^ 'twill be well laid out." "Well, well," Harbourne repeated, "you shall have it, sir." His voice took on a whining note. "Nevertheless, trade is poor and 'tis long since his Lordship has commissioned new appointments to the Church." This was a cue Fleet was not slow to take up. He lowered his voice and Dent a meaning look on the wood-merchant's face. "Have no fears on that score, my friend," he said. "'Tis within my knowledge that rnost of the common woodwork in the cathedral ris to be renewed and that before long, and the Bishop never forgets his friends." At this point a sudden rustiing sounded from the doorway, and Fleet turned to observe the timid entrance of a young girl, pink-eyed and smiling, who, for all the pleasing shyness of her bearing, show. ed such a slim grace in every movement that she seemed at once to embellish the apartment with an attractiveness hitherto noticeably lacking. "My daughter, Barbara," said Dr Harbourne, grudgingly. "My dear, this is Dr Scaife." The girl returned Fleet's low bow with a dainty curtsy. "I trust you have had no unpleasant journey, sir," she greeted him. "You were so late we feared that some miscliance had befallen you." "You concern does me honour, madam," Fleet returned, with a stateliness well in keeping with the character he had issumed. "Beyond a delay occasioned by missing the way} nothing untoward tcok place." "'Tis well, sir," she smiled, "for the roads are well-nigh infested these days with cutpurses and discharged lackneys turned nightraiders. 'Tis said even Fleet himself has an earth in these parts." "True," cut in Harbourne, quickly, "'twould be well to stay the night, doctor, and leave by daylight, or, better still, take only a portion of the sum with you to-night, and I will myself see the Bishop as to remainder. " "Have no fear," Fleet replied, with an uneoclesiastical wink at the girl. "i am armed, and I warrant I can put the rogues to some little trouble in the matter of a disputation." There was that in the glance with which the girl greeted his statement that eloquently spoke her pleasure at the welcome break in the monotony of a lonely life .effected by Fleet's arrival. I > e highwayman felt, too, that she -egarcled him in his assumed character with. as. much sympathy as so short an int jr rie v demanded. The situation promised a pleasant intercourse, but the hour grew late, and the separation of Hamourne from his guineas was still unacc >m. plished. "'Tis my way," he said to the g:rl, "on nights like these to shoot t -st ar.d administer counsel after. A man and a humble churchman, must needs look well after the little he has, and as for that which is another's, why, 'tis a sacred charge — especially when, as now, his charge is destined for an object so worthy as tbe commemoration of a proud humility over pomp and oircumstance." At tbis hint the marchant stirred, and meeting the speaker's gaze, shifted reluctantly.

"Yet I would counsel your staying the night, sir," he repeated. It was obvious to Fleet that the sugges. tion had also strong support from th« girl, but the folly of prolonging the stay was even more apparent. "I thank ye, Mr Harbourne," he said, sharply, "but the subscription must be in tbe Bishop's hands by to-morrow s morn, and the inclinations that bid me stay must be overcome by the prompt-ings of duty." "So be it," returned the merchant. "I would also urge your staying, sir," said Barbara Harbourne, softly, as her father quitted the room. "'Tis a tempestuous night, and the delay of a few hours can surely put his Lordship to small inconvenience?" "You make it hard for me to deny you, madam," smiled the other. "If there is ought could cause me to forget a plain duty, 'tis the pleasure that would come to me from the charm of your company. But the penalty such a pleasure entails is too severe." "I — I scarce follow your meaning, sir," the girl hesitated. "Surely the Bishop g displeasure would not be " "'Tis not of the Bishop's displeasure 1 am minded," Fleet said, gently lifting one of her hands, "but of yours, if ye should afterwards have occasion to recall how trifiing a thing was the sense of duty of one whose life should preach its precepts. " Harbourne re-appearing, Fleet relinquished the girl's hand. The merchant advanced slowly and unwillingly handed his guest a weigjhty canvas bag the contenta guest a weighty canvas bag, the contents of which jingled a merry accompaniment to his uncomplaisant manner. "Fleet stowed away the hundred guineas. "Methinks 'twould he well to delay my return no longer." Fleet and the girl rose simultaneousiy. At that moment a commotion sounded be. yond the door. A pause, and it burst open to reveal the coatless figure of Scaife, dishevelled and with a face buffeted into a semblance of rosiness oy the wind. Tlie apprehension in his features hardened into triumph as his gaze alighted on the highwayman. "Ali, you rascal!" he burst forth. "I am in time then ! Madam, I ask your pardon? Sir, I bid you beware! There stands as culpable a knave as ever merited eternal punishment. Harbourne eyed the jack-less newcomer with a mixtui'e of astonishment and affright. The least perturbed individual in the apartment was Fleet. Quick to realise tiiat bluff would be but a temporary safeguard, he flashed cut a pistol and sprang back to a position whence he faced all three, "Madam," he exclaimed, "here is a scene I had thought to spare you. I, too, crave your pardon. The fact is there is a little difference of opinion between this gentleman and your humble servant, on a matter touching the worthiest manner of disposing of a hundred guineas. Despite the doctor's learning I fear my arguments were too strong for him. As you see, his mantle has descended on me. But a moment, and he shall have a clear field to serve you up the details." So saying the speaker backed to the door. Scaife yielding place under threat of the other's weapon. Unfortunately, Fleet had forgotten the footman, who, having followed the impetuous clergyman as far as the door of the apartment, had remained without in some curiosity to overhear the explanatioh of the newcomer's haste. He gently pushed open the door and sprang upon the tooyman from behicd, bearing him to the floor with a crash. In this tumble Fleet was undermost, and a kick in the head irom the clergyman scattered for the time being what senses the f-all had felt him. This time there was more volume in the girl's affrighted cry, and Harbourne, running forward pranced round the kneeiing forms of Scaife and the footman in a ierment. "The guineas!" he cried. Scaife rose. "Mr Harbourne," said he, "let us hava bolt and bar on this scoundrel ere his sens.es return to him. I will explain this strange business later. If he has your property on his person I beg you will let it „ repose there. The thief-takers shall find it on him; there snall be no loophole for the ruffian. If I mistake not we shall see him swing from the cart for this night's work!" "Oh, sir, you cannot mean such words," broke in the girl. "You, a minister of mercy !" "Madam," quoth Scaife, fiercely, "th9 wages of sin is death, and if ever * rogue reserved the rope 'tis this one." Yet as Scaife and the footman carried him from the apartment a glimmer of returning consciousness showed the highwayman the compassionate young face e^ciroled by its misty aura oi blonde cmis.

Beneath the stairway, leading to the regions below, waa an old reeess, fui nished, apparently as a storeroom by the merchant himself and barricaded by a stone floor through which light was adniitted by a heart-shaped aperture high up in the wood-work. Within were all manner of oddments, amongst which were old garments, cast-off boots and shoes, odd pieces of Aimber, shoe and sash-buckles and numerous metal buttons of all descriptions. Into the midst of this medley ■ Scaife and the footman cast their burden with little ceremony ; and the door banged to and was barred. It would be pleasant to conclude this narrative with a picture of the clergyman stealing humbly and stealthily downstairs at an early hour of the morning, his spleen abated, with intent to unbar the door of the highwayman's temporary cell and leav,e him free to lurk forth, chastened by this leniency and resolved on a better mode of life in consequence. Still more pleasing would be the portrayal of Harbourne's iimpressionable daughter on a similar merciful errand. History, however, insi'sts on the silently stealing figure being that of the woodmerehant. The footman had been despatched for the thief-takers, the girl had retired to her chamber, and Scaife had been accomodated with the bed which had been offered so urgently to Jack Eleet. But Harbourne had remained alert. It had oc. cured to him that the escape of Fleet at that hour would incur the assumption that the hundred guineas had left with him, an assumption Harbourne would willingly have induced — provided the money remained in his own possession. Even the Bishop would hardly be so unreasonable as to look for a donation from a donor presumed to have been despoiled. In due course, therefore, he tapped softly on the door of the store oupboard. "I come to offer you your freedom on condition you first pass through this open. ing the hundred guineas." There came no immediate response. Harbourne heard with much satisfaction the jingle of the gold. "Meseems there is some trick in this sudden mercy," Fleet presently answered. "Yet an I must needs be kepthere 'twould seem to matter little who holds the money-bag." "You reason rightly) sir. Listen ! I have tethered your mare to the iron gate on the road. The thief-takers will be nere anon. You will do Well to lose no time in groundless misgiving." The soft jingling bag was squeezed through the aperture, and the merchant , hastened its passage avidiy. For a moment he stood listening. Only the soughing of the lalling wind outside disturbed the ambient quiet. Quickly he stowed away the bag, and unbarred the door. "This way," the merchant indicated, a wary eye on his captive. Fleet preceded him to the hall, and find.ng the front door open, marched out into the night. At the foot of the short flight of stone steps he turned and faced the mercnant's weapon. "My.thanks, sir," said he, grandly, "for a pleasant evening and its pleasing finish." The door swung to on his valediction. Harbourne left it slightly ajar. Returning to the reeess he lifted the iron bar, and using it as a lever. prised off the bar's support from the framework which held it. Then he placed the bar carefully on the floor beneath and quitted the scene of his cunning. Gaining his room, he closed and bolted the door, and dragging the heavy bag from his pocket, untied the neck and emptied the jingling contents on to the bed. Stupidly, he stood staring at the gross of metal buttons which littered the quilt. The End.