The Strand 1913-11 Vol_XLVI №275 November mich

]F I hadn't known Betty Elsenham I should not have cared a rap whom Billy Ferrers married ; but then he was Betty Elsenham's brother. He was a most charming young fellow, thirty years junior to myself. He wrote poetry, and was strangely fascinating. But he was a great trouble to his relatives, and, through them, one to me. Long before I met Lady Elsenham I had in a kind of way dry-nursed him. Our real trouble with him was, of course, his fatal attractiveness for women. Betty Elsen- ham was always complaining about it to me, and trying to interest her husband in the matter. But Elsenham was a preposterous person, who wrote to the papers on a thousand subjects about which he knew nothing. So we had to rely on ourselves. Our chief trouble with Billy was his secretaries. What he wanted with one Heaven only knows. Still, he would have them, and the poor girls had their work cut out if they only had to index and keep in order all the pieces of poetry which he never finished. It w^as through one of these secretaries that I came to know Betty Elsenham. She fell in love with Billy, and was a most unsuit- able match. Although she was good at her jMOKLEY I^OBERJS DEWAR MILLS business, she had an accent which suggested White- chapel Road, and was very pretty in an East- end way. I am distinctly of opinion that I once met her just outside the London Hospital on a Bank Holiday. If I am right, she was giving her real nature a chance, letting herself go, wear- ing all the ostrich feathers she possessed while she enjoyed herself with two or three other girls only less feathered than her- self. It took me and Betty Elsenham weeks to prevent anything coming of this affair. Nevertheless, by the help of a solicitor and fifty pounds, the matter was squared and Billy was once more free. We all declared this would be an example to him, but we reckoned without his nature. He advertised for another secretary, and about six weeks later the solicitor, Betty, and I settled the lady's just claim for seventy- five pounds and a fare to Canada. By great

THE REMAINING MISS SIMKINS. 535 \" The best thing you can do is to get married. That's the only safety for you.\" \" That's all very well,\" replied Billy, quite simply; \" but I absolutely can't do without a secretary.\" \" You took the pledge,\" I said, sternly. \" You gave us your word of honour that you'd swear off secretaries for the rest of your life.\" \" It's no good,\" said Billy. \" You'd better come with me and talk to my sister. Let's go now. I don't even mind letting you and Betty choose her for me.\" Well, the end of it was we went down to Egerton Gardens to see Betty. She looked alarmed, and asked me, sternly :— \" Has he been doing it again ? \" Billy was shamefaced and yet rebellious. \" No, I've not been doing it again,\" he said. \" But I must.\" \" You're a great trial to us,\" said his sister, \" and I do wish you'd take our advice.\" \" What advice ? \" asked Billy, sulkily. \" Why, to get married to Miss Porter. You know she'd have you.\" \" I do,\" said Billy. \" But I won't. I don't care if she has money. I hate the sight of her. It would be highly immoral, and against my principles. So I must have another secretary. As for . that beastly dictaphone you gave me, I threw it out of the window and nearly frightened a police- man to death with it. I had to give him three-and-six to square it, and the window'll have to be mended.\" \" You're a most ridiculous fellow,\" said his sister. \" I think we must let him have one,\" said I. \" She must be ugly, then,\" said Betty, firmly. \" Only moderately ugly,\" urged Billy. \" Perhaps I could put up with her if she was no more than that.\" \" Let's draw up an advertisement,\" said Betty Elsenham. We drew it up. On the whole, I think it had a striking effect when it was done. We all had a hand in it. I took a piece of paper and pencil and wrote down the points, begin- ning with : \" Wanted, a secretary ; good shorthand, typewriting; must not be less than thirty-five years of age.\" \" Forty would be better,\" said Betty. \" I will not have one forty,\" said Billy. \" I think we should add, ' Must be mar- ried,' \" said Betty. \"I don't like them married,\" said Billy, sulkily. Vol. xlvi.—68. \" It isn't a question of what you like, or what you don't like,\" said Betty. \" It's a question of what's safe for you.\" I was not so hopeful. I knew that there was no reason for supposing that the secre- tary's being married would render her any less likely to succumb to Billy's fatal charms. \" Very well,\" said I. \" I have a suggestion

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. Roumanian. There was only one of these letters which was really promising. It was written quite beautifully, and there was a touch of delicate femininity about it; never- theless, although it was nicely written, its manner was abrupt and ugly. It was curt to discourtesy. It ran :— \" Sir,—I know Roumanian, and can do one hundred and sixty words a minute in shorthand. I am thirty-six, and am said to be peculiarly plain. I cannot believe that my manners are repellent, but owing to them I have lost two positions. I enclose my photograph.\" I looked at the photograph eagerly. Cer- tainly it was not attractive. The lady wore her hair in a kind of Early Victorian way which was more than displeasing. She appeared to have plenty of it, but it was undoubtedly grey. She looked stern and sulky, was deeply marked, and appeared more like forty-five than thirty-six. On the whole, I thought she would do. I went down to Egerton Gardens, taking the letter and photograph with me. I found Betty at home, and submitted them to her. \" I don't think she's ugly enough,\" said Betty, with decision. \" My dear Betty,\" I said, \" you cannot expect to get a monster, even for double the market rate of pay.\" \" Well, write to her and ask her to come and see us here the day after to-morrow,\" she said. The day after next I went down at four o'clock to Lady Elsenham's, and found her entrenched behind the tea-table. She had given orders that she was only at home to me and Miss Simkins. \" The name's enough,\" said Betty Elsen- ham. \" Think of Simkins—not even a ' p ' in it.\" Shortly after the bell rang. There was a knock at the hall door. The ring was a loud and decided peal, the knock somewhat resembled that of an angry postman. Two minutes afterwards the butler announced Miss Simkins. I must say Betty behaved very well. She was so sorry for poor Miss Simkins that she sailed up to her graciously and with almost pathetic sympathy. At the first blush the secretary certainly depressed me. There was an air of calculated dowdiness about her which would have fitted out the feminine side of a Vegetarian Congress. Her complexion was as dowdy as her dress. I wondered what her figure was like. On the whole, it did not seem so bad, yet her poverty, or some impos- sible dressmaker, had hidden what might have been the only attractive thing about her. Betty Elsenham, of course, saw nothing but the clothes. She herself dressed with a perfection which led poor William Elsenham to write letters to the papers on the prepos- terous profits earned by milliners. Betty saw nothing but the bombazine, or whatever material it was Miss Simkins was dressed in. But I could see that she was pleased. She

THE REMAINING MISS SIMKINS. 537 \"'I AM MUCH PLEASED YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO COME, MiSS SIMKINS,' SAID LADY ELSENHAM.\"

53» THE STRAND MAGAZINE. I must own I have left two places on account of them.\" \" Oh, that is quite sufficient,\" said Betty. \" Do not say anything more about it. I am sure you will do most admirably.\" We agreed about the salary. It was, in fact, nearly twice as much as the market rate. When everything was settled Betty Elsenham turned to me. \" Now you had better take Miss Simkins to my brother.\" We went to the Temple in a taxi-cab. I don't know whether I mentioned that Billy's rooms were in the Temple. They were, as a matter of fact, in King's Bench Walk. In the close quarters of the cab I discovered accidentally that Miss Simkins was certainly not so bony as Betty Elsenham might have thought, nor was her manner with me so repellent as it had been in Betty's drawing- room. Nevertheless, I felt that Billy would never get over her complexion, even though she turned out to be charming, which cer- tainly did not seem likely. Now, if Miss Simkins as a secretary seemed a little depressing, I could not help feeling when we saw him that as an employer Billy was almost equally bad. His passion for beauty was extreme. He had a real sense of art. He himself fitted his surroundings. And now the secretary came into his chaste museum of beauty like some ineffable example of Victorian imbecility. She might have been drawn from the reading-room of the British Museum, that haunt of the Epicene. Never- theless, Billy behaved well. He shook hands with her tremulously, and said he was glad to meet her. \" I hope we shall get along all right,\" he added, desperately, with a wandering eye. \" I hope so,\" said Miss Simkins, sternly. \" When am I to begin ? \" \" Perhaps to-morrow,\" said poor Billy, \" or—or the day after next—or, if you prefer it, next week.\" \" I want to get to work at once,\" said Miss Simkins. \" Oh, very well,\" said Billy. \" Will you, please, come to-morrow about eleven—or perhaps twelve—or a little later, if you like ? \" \" I'll come at eleven,\" said Miss Simkins. And with that she withdrew. I thought she withdrew rather gracefully. Billy noticed it. He said :— \" She went out of the room like a tragedy queen.\" \" No wonder,\" said I. \" It's a tragical situation for the poor woman. What do you think of her ? \" \" Don't ask me,\" said Billy. \" I wish you and Bettv were dead. I'm—I'm sorry for her.\" He really was sorry for the poor woman. I heard no more about him or the secretarv for some days. I had a few of my own affairs to attend to, and many of Betty Elsenham's. When I did get down to the Temple I found two or three five-act tragedies in full blast.

THE REMAINING MISS SlMKLXS. 539 I shook my head. \" I wasn't going to quote him,\" I said. \" Nevertheless, something's happened to you, Billy. What is it ? \" \" Oh, it's really a very funny thing,\" said Billy, who was as eager to be questioned as any schoolgirl after her first ball. \" What's a funny thing ? \" I asked. \" Well, you—you know how ugly she is, don't you ? \" said Billy. \" If you mean Miss Simkins,\" I replied, \" she's certainly pretty plain.\" \" She's got a sister,\" said Billy. \" Good Lord ! \" said I. \" You don't mean to say there are two of them ? Has Miss Simkins a sister like herself ? \" \" That's the extraordinary thing about it. She's like her a little, but, oh, oh, so different! She's just beautiful,\" said Billy. I turned on him. \" She's what ? \" I asked. \" Beautiful,\" said Billy. \" How frightfully unfortunate ! \" said I. \" Not at all,\" said Billy, pensively. \" Come, now,\" said I, \" tell me the truth. How did you get to know her sister ? \" \" It was like this,\" said Billy. \" You see, one day Miss Simkins was ill \" \" And what happened when she was ill ? \" \" She sent her sister Angelica down to take her place,\" said Billy. \" Good Lord ! \" said I. \" Has she got the same aquiline nose ? \" \" I own it's a little like Miss Simkins's,\" said Billy, reluctantly, \" but much more delicate and fascinating. And, oh, old chap, her hair ! \" \" What's the colour of it ? \" I asked, although I feared I knew beforehand, for I knew Billy. \" Gorgeous,\" said Billy. \" Titian would have raved about it. And such masses of it ! \" \" What about her voice ? \" I asked, dismally. \" There's something about it I can't describe,\" said Billy. \" It goes straight to one's heart.\" This, then, was the result of all the care that Betty and I had taken. \" And does she come often ? \" I asked. \" Oh, no,\" he said, gloomily, \" not often. She's only been twice. I feel so dreadful when my Miss Simkins turns up again.\" \" It must be depressing for you,\" said I. \" Oh, I'm sadly afraid Betty and I made a great mistake.\" \" You mustn't speak to Betty about this,\" said Billv. \" I'm telling it you in confidence. Vo. xlvi.- 69 If you say a word to her about it I'll marry one of them right off to spite you.\" I own I was frightfully anxious to see the other Miss Simkins. In less than a week, as luck would have it, I struck a fortunate day when Miss Simkins was ill and sent her understudy. As far as I was concerned she was a prodigious success. She was

540 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. go on.' Would you believe it, old chap, she burst into tears ? I can't help thinking, you know, she was a little jealous of Angelica's influence on me. I felt as if I should never see Angelica again. Oh, it was luck that Miss Simkins fell ill to-day ! \" \" Very well,\" said I. \" You know I shall have to speak to Betty.\" \" It's no use my objecting,\" said Billy, sulkily. \" Of course you'll speak to her. Whether you're under her thumb, or she's under your thumb, I really don't know.\" I did not tell him. But, of course, I spoke to Betty. I made the best of it, too. I told her what Angelica was like. \" Indeed, my dear Betty,\" I said, con- solingly, \" I have seen duchesses in my time who looked dowdy by the side of our secre- tary's sister.\" This didn't console Betty. The marriage would upset several family arrangements, so she abused me for want of foresight. If I had been the man of the world I set up to be I should have gone into the matter of the secretary's relations. The result of the conversation was that she ordered me to go down to the Temple with instructions to sack Miss Simkins and the family. This I declined to do, and as a result Betty rang the bell, commanded a taxi-cab, ordered me into it, and I went down as a sulky captive to Billy's chambers. We found him working in his big room. In the adjoining little room Miss Simkins was at the typewriter ; we heard the clatter of the machine. I knew it was Miss Simkins, for Angelica would have been with Billy. Betty got to work at once. She told her brother what she thought of him. He sat and listened and said nothing. From the look on his face it was not because he felt it. \" You'll have to get rid of this woman,\" said Betty. \" I insist on your discharging her at once. She had no business to bring her sister here, and it was very wrong of you to permit it.\" \" I'll do nothing of the sort,\" said Billy, getting up at last. \" You got me Miss Sim- kins ; she's quite perfect, she's everything that's desirable—and now if you come down here making a row about her after getting her I'll do just exactly what I please, and so I tell you.\" \" I suppose that means \" said his sister. \" Yes, it does,\" said Billy. And on that, of course, Betty raised her voice. She was quite oblivious of the secre- tary in the next room. She denounced him in good round terms, and brought up the matter of the little account between her and him as to the various sums of money which had been previously paid to undesirable secretaries. In the very middle of the row the door opened, and the elder Miss Simkins entered like Lady Macbeth. In spite of her ugliness, and her complexion, and her hooked nose,

THE, REMAINING MISS SIM KINS. n A <* Oil, LADY ELSENHAM, I AM SHOCKED; I AM HORRIFIED; I AM SURPRISED!' he could write love lyrics with Angelica, and was inevitably compelled to deal with tragedy when she sat down before him. It was a dreadful complication. If Miss Simkins loved him, there was undoubtedly a great affection between the two sisters ; they spoke of each other with adoration. Angelica had told him she was so sorry for her sister because she was not pretty, and the elder Miss Sim- kins always spoke of little Angelica as though she had brought her up by hand. I think Miss Simkins saw what she had done as soon as she had spoken. She saw the light of discovery in our eyes, for indeed we were appalled. We were still more appalled when she exclaimed, with an air not unworthy of the divine Sarah, or even of the great Duse at her best: \" I can bear it no longer—I can bear it no longer ! \" With that she rushed headlong for the door. I thought that she was bent on leaving the Temple with a view of drowning herself in the neighbouring Thames. But she went straight for Billy's bedroom, entered it, slammed the door, and locked it upon us. \" Good heavens ! \" cried Betty. \" Oh, you wretched Billy, what have you done ? She, too, has fallen in love with you.\" \" I'm not to blame—I'm not to blame,\" said Billy. \" I never said a word to her which would encourage the most foolish person. Believe me, Betty, I never did. It's her sister I love—it's her sister ! \" \" Come,\" said I, \" what's the good of arguing ? What's the girl going to do now ? \" \" She might commit suicide,\" said Billy. It was a horrible thought. With one accord we all rushed to the door and battered at it. There was no reply. We called aloud in chorus:— \" Miss Simkins 1 Miss Simkins ! Pray let us in! Listen to us ! \" We heard an hysterical laugh inside the room. Betty turned to me. \" You big brute, burst the door open!\" Billy and I kicked furiously at the panels. We certainly damaged them, but damaged our toes more. \" Shall I open the window and scream ? \" said Betty. \" No,\" said I, \" don't. Let me speak to her. But listen.\" '

542 THE STRA.XD MAGAZINE. We all listened. \" What is she doing ? \" asked Betty. \" I hear water,\" said Billy. \" Water ? What can she be doing with water, you fool ? \" asked Betty. \" Ah,\" said I, with sudden callousness, \" perhaps after all she's only washing her face.\" \" You useless brute ! \" said Betty. \" Why don't you do something ? \" \" How can I ? \" I asked. \" If a woman locks herself in an impregnable fortress and commits suicide, what can one do ? \" Again she said I was a brute. Betty was obviously in the most fearful state of mind. We surrendered the keyhole to her. She appealed to Miss Simkins through it. \" Oh, please, please, Miss Simkins, don't do anything rash ! Open the door and speak to us. Oh, speak to us ! \" And still there was that strange splashing of water from the other room. We could not understand it. \" How was it she went in there at all ? \" asked Betty, with sudden suspicion. \" Oh,\" said Billy, \" to-day she brought a bag with her, and I put it there myself.\" \" What was in it ? \" asked Betty. \" How should I know ? \" asked her brother. \" This very morning she said most likely her sister would come for an hour or two, and that she herself would go away. And now, sup- posing her sister does come I Oh, it's dread- ful ! Let me look—let me look ! \" He thrust Betty aside and took possession of the keyhole. He uttered a cry. \" I think she's lying on the floor,\" he said. \" I see her long black hair upon the floor.\" Betty once more pushed him away. \" I see it too.\" \" Let me look,\" said I. I pushed Betty away. It was quite true. There was Miss Simkins's long black hair upon the floor. It was as though she lay there in a fit, or as if she were dead. And then we heard a strange gurgling. Our blood ran cold. In my time I have read some books of medical jurisprudence; some of their illustrations are appalling. I had visions of the elder Miss Simkins lying on the floor with a strange and horrible discontinuity in her jugular. It was an appalling notion, so I mentioned it. Betty screamed. Then again, just as we once more fought desperately for the keyhole, we heard her move. Billy hurled me away from the door and took possession. \" I can't see her hair any more,\" said he. \" She's moved.\" \" Oh,\" said I, \" she must have rolled over in her dying agony.\" Whereupon Betty screamed and, sitting down upon the floor, fairly howled with terror and pity. \" Oh, poor Miss Simkins! Poor Miss Simkins ! \" she cried. It was an unexpected outburst, but, after all, Betty was a kindly little soul, in spite of

THE REMAINING MISS SIMKINS. 543 \"WE CKIE1) OUT ALL TOf.KTHKR : ' HOW 1)11) YOU V.EV HERE? WHKRK'S YOUR SISTER?'\" Vol. xlvi.-70.

THE MOST IMPRESSIVE SIGHT I EVER SAW. X.—The Hon. Mrs. Assheton-Harbord. XL—S ir Squire Bancroft. XII.—F. C. Selous. In this striking series of articles a number of eminent men and women have consented to describe \" the most impressive sight\" they have ever seen. Their stones, as will be realized by the following examples, are of the most varied and, in many cases, thrilling kind. X. A Midnight Spectacle on a Balloon Trip Across the Channel. By the Hon. Mrs. ASSHETON-HARBORD. Illustrated by Dudley Tennant. are told that, on earth, \" now churchyards yawn.\" I was making an attempt to win the North- cliffe Challenge Cup, offered for the longest distance travelled during the year by a member of the Aero Club, unaccompanied by a pro- fessional aeronaut. We left Battersea Gas Works in a strong north-westerly wind shortly before ten o'clock at night with Mr. C. F. Pollock as the pilot. At the start, I remember, we had some difficulty in getting away, but, taking advantage of a momentary lull, orders were given for \" hands off,\" and slowly the balloon floated upwards, its grace- ful ascent seeming to cleave the atmosphere as the arms of a strong swimmer part the waves of the sea. Up, up, up we went into the darkness, for on this particular evening the stars all seemed to be in bed, and slowly, more slowly, still more slowly, the noise of London's teeming traffic faded away from a fierce, lion-like roar to a faint buzzing, which reminded me, as we went up higher and higher, like nothing quite so much as the lazy drone of insects on a hot summer's afternoon in a country lane, until, when we had reached a height of two thousand feet, even this sound had subsided altogether, although far below us we could see a patterned scene which resembled small squares of brilliantly-lit houses such as Gulliver must have seen at night in his travels. The lights of London far below us looked like the illu- j|Tany moment nowadays, when walking along the streets of any great capital, a balloon, from which is hanging a tiny car, may meet the passer-by's eye. This, indeed, has become quite an ordinary everyday sight. But even so, as one who has a con- siderable experience of ballooning—I was the first lady in England to cross the Channel in my own balloon—I am well aware that the imagination of \" the man in the street,\" when he seen a balloon soaring over his head, frequently leads him to figure the big envelope ripped to pieces, the car hurtling through space, and the occupant splintered to frag- ments at his feet. As a matter of fact, however, ballooning from the point of view of one who under- stands the pastime is one of the safest under- takings in the world. It is not, indeed, the element of danger which makes it fascinating so much as the frequent opportunities it

THE MOST IMPRESSIVE SIGHT I EVER SAW. 545

546 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. minations of a city inhabited by dwarfs. Viewed from the heavens above, London's one hundred and fifty square miles appeared little larger than the grounds of a great exhibition. Shortly before eleven we found ourselves in a stiff squall, which made the balloon sway from side to side as though it had been hit by some heavy object, and in consequence we had considerable difficulty in keeping in the car, an experience which is far from pleasant when one is several thousand feet from the earth, and is well aware that no nice, comfortable, springy net awaits below to catch one. Just over an hour after we started, and when we were beginning to wonder whether below us lay a town or a village, or whether we were soaring over mountains or over lowlands, a faint murmuring sound floated through the air like the voice of a mother crooning her restless child to sleep. Now it rose, now it fell, then it seemed to cease altogether, and anon to begin again. Then profound silence reigned, except for the gradually deepening murmurs of waves at war with one another, and the increasing rush of the wind. We were reaching the lights of the English coast, and, although four thousand feet up, we could see below us the tiny twinkling lights of a fishing fleet. Then the moon drifted behind the clouds, and shortly after midnight the darkness was so thick that all lights seemed to be extin- guished for ever. No moon, no stars, no light, everything was inky black. On, on we went, and still neither I nor my companion could see anything. And all we heard was the faint echo of the contending waves below. I was almost beginning to think that the speaking power of the Egyptian darkness of the night would prove too overpowering for my reserve of nerves, when, with kaleido- scopic suddenness, the black cloak with which the car of the balloon seemed to be enveloped suddenly changed into light, so intensely brilliant that from a subterranean cavern one might have been transported into a fairy garden on a fete night. The sight of that sudden change I shall never forget, for it impressed me, awed me, more than anything I have ever seen in my life. For what had seemed like hours we had been travelling in impenetrable darkness. Now all the electric light bulbs in all the world seemed to have been turned on for our benefit at once. It was indeed a wonderful sight. We were passing through a storm of sheet lightning four thousand feet up, which illumined the car, hoop, and neck of the balloon with almost uncanny brilliancy. Around the balloon I could see the clouds grouped in massive and wonderful forms. Some of them appeared like huge mushrooms growing up from a vast field of white mist, their tops inky black, as they floated out of the range of the lightning. The force of the wind constantly blew these clouds asunder, and changed them from mushrooms into long,



54 8 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. thought crossing my mind that he must indeed have lived a fine, noble life who could be so deeply mourned by all, for as the solemn procession made its slow, dignified way through the streets, along the entire length of which every pavement, every window and doorway which could command a view of it was blocked up by a closely-packed multi- tude, the reverential silence of every man, woman, and child in the crowd bore eloquent testimony to the depth and reality of their sorrow. And yet I felt as I gazed on the huge crowd that the authorities need have had no fear of any unseemly behaviour on the part of the people, for so heartfelt and so genuine was the feeling of sorrow of each and every member of the public that, on the slightest request from an official in charge, they aban- doned their chosen stands and sought positions elsewhere. All were dressed in mourning, and even the poorest of the pedes- trians had put on as much black as their means would allow. I recall seeing a tramp standing on the pavement below a window in the Strand, dressed in a torn, tattered, ragged brown suit, obviously the gift of some charitably-disposed friend, with toes peeping out of his boots, and with hat worthy of a place in any shop devoted to a display of antiquities. And yet, in the last stages of poverty though he apparently was, he had nevertheless managed to raise a few coppers to purchase an armlet of crepe and a crfpe band for his world-weary headgear. In that touch of respect from one who might well have been excused for having lost the power to respect anything but alms, I have often since thought was characterized the affection which the Duke of Wellington had earned for himself from every member of every class of the English nation. The conduct of the immense gathering of mourners as the solemn procession approached the spot where I stood I can never forget. Since then I have witnessed other national funerals of the kind, but never in one have I seen signs of greater personal sorrow than that shown by all on November 18th, 1852. The sorrow of each was so individual it was as that of one who has lost a dear friend or a near relation. \" Surely,\" I remember thinking, \" this great General must at one time and another have befriended every member of this vast crowd.'' And, of course, so he had, for had he not won for each member of the nation a glory which none could take away? And now, through all the long bygone years, I can see the procession approaching. As the head of the column appears in sight every sound is hushed, and as the dark mass of the Rifles is seen, and the strains of the solemn Dead March float mournfully, yet grandly, on the silent air, many a man and woman in the crowd bow their heads in tearful respect, in reverential recollection of their long friendship with the dead man, of the glories he has won for them, and of the lesson

THE MOST IMPRESSIVE SIGHT I EVER SAW. 549 dead are melted into homely sorrow, as the horse of the deceased, led by his aged groom, is seen to be slowly following the coffin. That to me is the one touch of the domestic life of the great Duke if Wellington which perhaps impresses me more than the dim idea I then have of his great record as a soldier, and of his great character as a man. And in common with almost every other spectator, my emotions find relief in tears. XII. Tbe Aurora Borealis. Described by F. C. SELOUS. Illustrated by Jobn cle MValton. From youth till middle-age all the best years of my life were spent as a hunter of African game. It is now, however, a good many years since I ceased to make my living by my rifle, but in view of the length of time during which I did so and the eventful character of the life I then led, it is not, perhaps, altogether strange that, in a past of stirring and glorious memories, I have seen many sights in many parts of the world which have impressed me very greatly indeed. To one who has once tasted the joys of a hunter's life there inevitably comes a longing to take up the old life again, and it was on such a trip in North America a few years ago, in the Yukon Mountains, that I witnessed a display of the Aurora Borealis which made a far greater impression on me than any other sight I have ever seen, either in the animal world or the world of Nature. On September 15th we moved camp about five miles to the head of a stream running into the Clearwater Creek of MacConnell's survey in the Yukon Mountains. I well re- member that the weather about this time was, on the whole, very bad indeed, and, although we seldom had more than five or six degrees of frost at night, during the daytime it fre- quently rained hard for the greater part of the day and snowed during the remainder. Sometimes a keenly-bitter wind blew over the mountains accompanied by fine sleet that it was impossible to face. In the evening it often cleared up, and during the early part of the night the sky would sometimes become clear and starlit, and we made sure the weather was going to be fine on the following day; but morn'ng after morning we were disappointed. These climatic conditions, which I have described in detail in \" Hunting Trips in North America,\" I refer to briefly once more by reason of the fact that such conditions have not a little bearing on the appearance of Auroras. It is on record, indeed, that the frequency of the Aurora does not increase continually as the Pole of the Aurora is approached. The increase in frequency is at first very rapid, but slackens quickly and finally ceases altogether. When, therefore, the frequency of the Aurora in the Polar regions is referred to the expression should not be taken too literally ; on the contrary, Auroras, I believe, are far

'ACROSS THE INKY BLACKNESS OF THE NORTHERN SKY A GREAT ARC OK 1'URE WHITE LIGHT WAS SUDDENLY STRETCHED.\" darkness to brilliantly-lit splendour means, it is necessary, I think, to picture oneself at the dead of night camping out in a wilderness, apparently a thousand miles from nowhere, with not a soul with one, save the fellow- members of one's camp, with scarcely a sound to be heard, and that feeling of \" we-are- alone - in - the - world - here \" pervading one's whole party. At such a time, and in such surroundings, a sudden display of the Aurora Borealis as I have described fills one with a feeling of reverential awe which perhaps only those who have experienced the effects of such \" moments \" can adequately appreciate.

(ihc Horror ^ of the Heights (Which Includes the Manuscript Known as the Joyce-Armstrong Fragment.) A. CON AN DOYLE Illustrated tyWR S.Stott Vol. xi\\ i.—71. | HE idea that the extraordinary narrative which has been called the Joyce-Armstrong Fragment is an elaborate practical joke evolved by some unknown person, cursed by a perverted and sinister sense of humour, has now been abandoned by all who have examined the matter. The most macabre and imaginative of plotters would hesitate before linking his morbid fancies with the unquestioned and tragic facts which reinforce the statement. Though the assertions contained in it are amazing and even monstrous, it is none the less forcing itself upon the general intelligence that they are true, and that we must readjust our ideas to the new situation. This world of ours appears to be separated by a slight and precarious margin of safety from a most singular and unexpected danger. I will endeavour in this narrative, which reproduces the original document in its necessarily somewhat fragmentary form, to lay before the reader the whole of the facts up to date, prefacing my statement by saying that, if there be any who doubt the narrative of Joyce-Armstrong, there can' be no question at all as to the facts concerning Lieutenant Myrtle, R.N., and Mr. Hay Connor, who undoubtedly met their end in the manner described. Copyright, 1913, by A. Conan Doyle.

552 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. The Joyce-Armstrong Fragment was found in the field which is called Lower Haycock, lying one mile to the westward of the village of Withyham, upon the Kent and Sussex border. It was on the fifteenth of September last that an agricultural labourer, James Flynn, in the employment of Mathew Dodd, farmer, of the Chauntry Farm, Withyham, perceived a briar pipe lying near the footpath which skirts the hedge in Lower Haycock. A few paces farther on he picked up a pair of broken binocular glasses. Finally, among some nettles in the ditch, he caught sight of a flat, canvas-backed book, which proved to be a note-book with detachable leaves, some of which had come loose and were fluttering along the base of the hedge. These he col- lected, but some, including the first, were never recovered, and leave a deplorable hiatus in this all-important statement. The note-book was taken by the labourer to his master, who in turn showed it to Dr. J. H. Atherton, of Hartfield. This gentleman at once recognized the need for an expert examina- tion, and the manuscript was forwarded to the Aero Club in London, where it now lies. The first two pages of the manuscript are missing. There is also one torn away at the end of the narrative, though none of these affect the general coherence of the story. It is conjectured that the missing opening is concerned with the record of Mr. Joyce- Armstrong's qualifications as an aeronaut, which can be gathered from other sources and are admitted to be unsurpassed among the air-pilots of England. For many years he has been looked upon as among the most daring and the most intellectual of flying men, a combination which has enabled him to both invent and test several new devices, including the common gyroscopic attachment which is known by his name. The main body of the manuscript is written neatly in ink, but the last few lines are in pencil and are so ragged as to be hardly legible—exactly, in fact, as they might be expected to appear if they were scribbled off hurriedly from the seat of a moving aeroplane. There are, it may be added, several stains, both on the last page and on the outside cover, which have been pronounced by the Home Office experts to be blood—probably human and certainly mam- malian. The fact that something closely resembling the organism of malaria was discovered in this blood, and that Joyce- Armstrong is known to have suffered from intermittent fever, is a remarkable example of the new weapons which modern science has placed in the hands of our detectives. And now a word as to the personality of the author of this epoch-making statement. Joyce-Armstrong, according to the few friends who really knew something of the man, was a poet and a dreamer, as well as a mechanic and an inventor. He was a man of considerable wealth, much of which he had spent in the pursuit of his aeronautical hobby. He had four private aeroplanes in

THE HORROR OF THE HEIGHTS. 553 with no thought beyond seeing their silly names in the newspaper. It is interesting to note that neither of them had ever been much beyond the twenty-thousand-foot level. Of course, men have been higher than this both in balloons and in the ascent of mountains. It must be well above that point that the aero- plane enters the danger zone—always pre- suming that my premonitions are correct. \" Aeroplaning has been with us now for more than twenty years, and one might well ask : Why should this peril be only revealing itself in our day ? The answer is obvious. In the old days of weak engines, when a hundred horse-power Gnome or Green was considered ample for every need, the flights were very restricted. Now that three hundred horse- power is the rule rather than the exception, visits to the upper layers have become easier and more common. Some of us can remember how, in our youth, Garros made a world-wide reputation by attaining nineteen thousand feet, and it was considered a remarkable achievement to fly over the Alps. Our standard now has been immeasurably raised, and there are twenty high flights for one in former years. Many of them have been undertaken with impunity. The thirty- thousand-foot level has been reached time after time with no discomfort beyond cold and asthma. What does this prove ? A visitor might descend upon this planet a thousand times and never see a tiger. Yet tigers exist, and if he chanced to come down into a jungle he might be devoured. There are jungles of the upper air, and there are worse things than tigers which inhabit them. I believe in time they will map these jungles accurately out. Even at the present moment I could name two of them. One of them lies over the Pau-Biarritz district of France. Another is just over my head as I write here in my house in Wiltshire. I rather think there is a third in the Homburg-Wiesbaden district. \" It was the disappearance of the airmen that first set me thinking. Of course, every- one said that they had fallen into the sea, but that did not satisfy me at all. First, there was Verrier in France; his machine was found near Bayonne, but they never got his body. There was the case of Baxter also, who vanished, though his engine and some of the iron fixings were found in a wood in Leicestershire. In that case, Dr. Middleton, of Amesbury, who was watching the flight with a telescope, declares that just before the clouds obscured the view he saw the machine, which was at an enormous height, suddenly rise perpendicularly upwards in a succession of jerks in a manner that he would have thought to be impossible. That was the last seen of Baxter. There was a correspondence in the papers, but it never led to anything. There were several other similar cases, and then there was the death of Hay Connor. What a cackle there was about an unsolved mystery of the air, and what columns in the halfpenny papers, and yet how little was ever

554 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. the job. There's nothing like a monoplane when real work is to be done. Beaumont found that out in very early days. For one thing, it doesn't mind damp, and the weather looks as if we should be in the clouds all the time. It's a bonny little model and answers my hand like a tender-mouthed horse. The engine is a ten-cylinder rotary Robur work- ing up to one hundred and seventy-five. It has all the modern improvements — enclosed fusilage, high-curved landing skids, brakes, gyroscopic steadiers, and three speeds, worked by an alteration of the angle of the planes upon the Venetian-blind principle. I took a shot-gun with me and a dozen cartridges filled with buck-shot. You should have seen the face of Perkins, my old mechanic, when I directed him to put them in. I was dressed like an Arctic explorer, with two jerseys under my overalls, thick socks inside my padded boots, a storm-cap with flaps, and my talc goggles. It was stifling outside the hangars, but I was going for the summit of the Himalayas, and had to dress for the part. Perkins knew there was something on and implored me to take him with me. Perhaps I should if I were using the biplane, but a monoplane is a one-man show—if you want to get the last foot of lift out of it. Of course, I took an oxygen bag ; the man who goes for the altitude record without one will either be frozen or smothered—or both. \" I had a good look at the planes, the rudder-bar, and the elevating lever before I got in. Everything was in order so far as I could see. Then I switched on my engine and found that she was running sweetly. When they let her go she rose almost at once upon the lowest speed. I circled my home field once or twice just to warm her up, and then, with a wave to Perkins and the others, I flattened out my planes and put her on her highest. She skimmed like a swallow down wind for eight or ten miles until I turned her nose up a little and she began to climb in a great spiral for the cloud-bank above me. It's all-important to rise slowly and adapt your- self to the pressure as you go. \" It was a close, warm day for an English September, and there was the hush and heaviness of impending rain. Now and then there came sudden puffs of wind from the south-west—one of them so gusty and unexpected that it caught me napping and turned me half-round for an instant. I remember the time when gusts and whirls and air-pockets used to be things of danger— before we learned to put an overmastering power into our engines. Just as I reached the ckmd-banks, with the altimeter marking three thousand, down came the rain. My word, how it poured ! It drummed upon rav wings and lashed against my face, blurring my glasses so that I could hardly see. I got down on to a low speed, for it was painful to travel against it. As I got higher it became hail, and I had to turn tail to it. One of my cylinders was out of action—a dirty plug, I



THE STRAND MAGAZINE. THOUGH, INDEED,



55* THE STRAXD MAGAZ1XE. \"11IKY ARK BKNEAIII ME, 1IIRKK OK THEM. <iOI) HELP Ml : IT IS A HKI.MHUL DEATH TO UIK!\"

THE HORROR OF THE HEIGHTS. 559 swayed the broad cloud-plain. Once a great eddy formed in it, a whirlpool of vapour, and through it, as down a funnel, I caught sight of the distant world. A large white biplane was passing at a vast depth beneath me. I fancy it is the morning mail service betwixt Bristol and London. Then the drift swirled inwards again and the great solitude was un- broken. \" Just after ten I touched the lower edge of the upper cloud-stratum. It consisted of fine diaphanous vapour drifting swiftly from the westward. The wind had been steadily rising all this time and it was now blowing a sharp breeze—twenty-eight an hour by my gauge. Already it was very cold, though my alti- meter only marked nine thousand. The engines were working beautifully, and we went droning steadily upwards. The cloud-bank was thicker than I had expected, but at last it thinned out into a golden mist before me, and then in an instant I had shot out from it, and there was an unclouded sky and a brilliant sun above my head—all blue and gold above, all shining silver below, one vast glimmering plain as far as my eyes could reach. It was a quarter past ten o'clock, and the barograph needle pointed to twelve thousand eight hundred. Up I went and up, my ears concentrated upon the deep purring of my motor, my eyes busy always with the watch, the revolution indicator, the petrol lever, and the oil pump. No wonder aviators are said to be a fearless race. With so many things to think of there is no time to trouble about oneself. About this time I noted how unreliable is the compass when above a certain height from earth. At fifteen thousand feet mine was pointing east and a point south. The sun and the wind gave me my true bearings. \" I had hoped to reach an eternal stillness in these high altitudes, but with every thousand feet of ascent the gale grew stronger. My machine groaned and trembled in every joint and rivet as she faced it, and swept away like a sheet of paper when I banked her on the turn, skimming down wind at a greater pace, perhaps, than ever mortal man has moved. Yet I had always to turn again and tack up in the wind's eye, for it was not merely a height record that I was after. By all my calculations it was above little Wiltshire that my air-jungle lay, and all my labour might be lost if I struck the outer layers at some farther point. \" When I reached the nineteen-thousand- foot level, which was about midday, the wind was so severe that I looked with some anxiety Vol. xlvL—7a to the stays of my wings, expecting momen- tarily to see them snap or slacken. I even cast loose the parachute behind me, and fastened its hook into the ring of my leathern belt, so as to be ready for the worst. Now was the time when a bit of scamped work by the mechanic is paid for by the life of the aeronaut. But she held together bravely.

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. it. Just after one o'clock I was twenty-one thousand feet above the sea-level. To my great joy I had topped the gale, and with every hundred feet of ascent the air grew stiller. On the other hand, it was very cold, and I was conscious of that peculiar nausea which goes with rarefaction of the air. For the first time I unscrewed the mouth of my oxygen bag and took an occasional whiff of the glorious gas. I could feel it running like a cordial through my veins, and I was exhilarated almost to the point of drunken- ness. I shouted and sang as I soared up- wards into the cold, still outer world. \" It is very clear to me that the insensibility which came upon Glaisher, and in a lesser degree upon Coxwell, when, in 1862, they ascended in a balloon to the height of thirty thousand feet, was due to the extreme speed with which a perpendicular ascent is made. Doing it at an easy gradient and accustoming oneself to the lessened barometric pressure by slow degrees, there are no such dreadful symptoms. At the same great height I found that even without my oxygen inhaler I could breathe without undue distress. It was bitterly cold, however, and my thermo- meter was at zero Fahrenheit. At one-thirty I was nearly seven miles above the surface of the earth, and still ascending steadily. I found, however, that the rarefied air was giving markedly less support to my planes, and that my angle of ascent had to be con- siderably lowered in consequence. It was already clear that even with my light weight and strong engine-power there was a point in front of me where I should be held. To make matters worse, one of my sparking-plugs was in trouble again and there was intermittent missfiring in the engine. My heart was heavy with the fear of failure. \" It was about that time that I had a most extraordinary experience. Something whizzed past me in a trail of smoke and exploded with a loud, hissing sound, sending forth a cloud of steam. For the instant I could not imagine what had happened. Then I remem- bered that the earth is for ever being bom- barded by meteor stones, and would be hardly inhabitable were they not in nearly every case turned to vapour in the outer layers of the atmosphere. Here is a new danger for the high-altitude man, for two others passed me when I was nearing the forty-thousand- foot mark. I cannot doubt that at the edge of the earth's envelope the risk would be a very real one. \" My barograph needle marked forty- one thousand three hundred when I became aware that I could go no farther. Physi- cally, the strain was not as yet greater than I could bear, but my machine had reached its limit. The attenuated air gave no firm support to the wings, and the least tilt developed into side-slip, while she seemed sluggish on her controls. Possibly, had the engine been at its best, another thousand feet might have been within our capacity, but it was still missfiring, and two

THE HORROR OF THE HEIGHTS. life, of monstrous life, even as the humble grease of the ocean is the food for the mighty whale ? The thought was in my mind when my eyes looked upwards and I saw the most wonderful vision that ever man has seen. Can I hope to convey it to you even as I saw it myself last Thursday ? \" Conceive a jelly-fish such as sails in our summer seas, bell-shaped and of enormous size—far larger, I should judge, than the dome of St. Paul's. It was of a light pink colour veined with a delicate green, but the whole huge fabric so tenuous that it was but a fairy outline against the dark blue sky. It pulsated with a delicate and regular rhythm. From it there depended two long, drooping green tentacles, which swayed slowly back- wards and forwards. This gorgeous vision passed gently with noiseless dignity over my head, as light and fragile as a soap-bubble, and drifted upon its stately way. \" I had half-turned my monoplane, that I might look after this beautiful creature, when, in a moment, I found myself amidst a perfect fleet of them, of all sizes, but none so large as the first. Some were quite small, but the majority about as big as an average balloon, and with much the same curvature at the top. There was in them a delicacy of texture and colouring which reminded me of the finest Venetian glass. Pale shades of pink and green were the prevailing tints, but all had a lovely iridescence where the sun shimmered through their dainty forms. Some hundreds of them drifted past me, a wonderful fairy squadron of strange, unknown' argosies of the sky—creatures whose forms and substance were so attuned to these pure heights that one could not conceive anything so delicate within actual sight or sound of earth. \" But soon my attention was drawn to a new phenomenon—the serpents of the outer air. These were long, thin, fantastic coils of vapour-like material, which turned and twisted with great speed, flying round and round at such a pace that the eyes could hardly follow them. Some of these ghost- like creatures were twenty or thirty feet long, but it was difficult to tell their girth, for their outline was so hazy that it seemed to fade away into the air around them. These air-snakes were of a very light grey or smoke colour, with some darker lines within, which gave the impression of a definite organism. One of them whisked past my very face, and I was conscious of a cold, clammy contact, but their composition was so unsubstantial that I could not connect them with any thought of physical danger, any more than the beautiful bell-like creatures which had preceded them. There was no more solidity in their frames than in the floating spume from a broken wave. \" But a more terrible experience was in store for me. Floating downwards from a great height there came a purplish patch of vapour, small as I saw it first, but rapidly enlarging as it approached me, until it

56a THE STRAND MAGAZINE. the air again, while the huge flat body drew itself together as if in sudden pain. I dipped to a vol-pique, but again a tentacle fell over the monoplane and was shorn off by the pro- peller as easily as it might have cut through a smoke wreath. A long, gliding, sticky, serpent-like coil came from behind and caught me round the waist, dragging me out of the fusilage. I tore at it, my fingers sink- ing into the smooth, glue-like surface, and for an instant I disengaged myself, but only to be caught round the boot by another coil, which gave me a jerk that tilted me almost on to my back. \" As I fell over I blazed off both barrels of my gun, though, indeed, it was like attacking an elephant with a pea-shooter to imagine that any human weapon could cripple that mighty bulk. And yet I aimed better than I knew, for, with a loud report, one of the great blisters upon the creature's back exploded with the puncture of the buck-shot. It was very clear that my conjecture was right, and that these vast clear bladders were distended with some lifting gas, for in an instant the huge cloud-like body turned sideways, writh- ing desperately to find its balance, while the white beak snapped and gaped in horrible fury. But already I had shot away on the steepest glide that I dared to attempt, my engine still full on, the flying propeller and the force of gravity shooting me downwards like an aerolite. Far behind me I saw a dull, purplish smudge growing swiftly smaller and merging into the blue sky behind it. I was safe out of the deadly jungle of the outer air. \" Once out of danger I throttled my engine, for nothing tears a machine to pieces quicker than running on full power from a height. It was a glorious spiral vol-plane from nearly eight miles of altitude—first, to the level of the silver cloud-bank, then to that of the storm-cloud beneath it, and finally, in beating rain, to the surface of the earth. I saw the Bristol Channel beneath me as I broke from the clouds, but, having still some petrol in my tank, I got twenty miles inland before I found myself stranded in a field half a mile from the village of Ashcombe. There I got three tins of petrol from a passing motor-car, and at ten minutes past six that evening I alighted gently in my own home meadow at Devizes, after such a journey as no mortal upon earth has ever yet taken and lived to tell the tale. I have seen the beauty and I have seen the horror of the heights—and greater beauty or greater horror than that is not within the ken of man. \" And now it is my plan to go once again before I give my results to the world. My reason for this is that I must surely have something to show by way of proof before I lay such a tale before my fellow-men. It is true that others will soon follow and will con- firm what I have said, and yet I should wish to carry conviction from the first. Those lovely iridescent bubbles of the air should not be hard to capture. They drift slowly

By ALPHONSE COURLANDER Illustrated by ^^arwick Reynolds. \" Yes,\" said Lerris, meeting the man's stare unflinchingly. \" Mrs. Lerris doesn't live here,\" said the footman, and there was something in the appearance of the visitor, something of that indefinite quality that proclaims breeding, which made the footman add \" sir.\" \" Lord Rodene lives here.\" Lord Rodene ! Lerris knew the Rodenes. How often had he entertained them in those spacious days when all London was at his feet because he was prosperous, so prosperous that they used to say that everything Lerris touched turned to gold. \" I—I—don't quite understand,\" said Lerris, still smiling, but his smile held the pain of perplexity behind it. \" I—I have been away from London for a long time— for a number of years — I — I — didn't know \" The footman, who had been staring hard at him all the time, as though he were trying to fix a name to Christopher's face, interrupted him. \" Why, you're Mister Lerris, sir, aren't you ? \" he asked. \" Yes,\" said Lerris. \" I recognized your face, sir, by the photo- graphs in the newspapers. Will you step inside for a moment ? \" Lerris entered the house that was no longer his. He was conscious of a strange 1HRISTOPHER LERRIS knocked at the door of the large house in Queen's Gate, where he had once lived and entertained like a prince, before the crash came, and it was opened to him by a very superior-looking footman, who regarded him with questioning eyes. He was, the footman saw, obviously a gentleman, although his clothes seemed, somehow, to belong to a past era of fashion. They were neither shabby nor faded, but they did not set well upon him ; they seemed to have been made for a broader, better-built man. For a moment Lerris hesitated ; he wondered whether he ought to walk in and hand the footman his hat and stick, as he had done in the years gone by, and walk into his sitting-room (it was the second door on the right, at the end of the passage), or whether, i:i the circumstances, he had better break the news of his return to his wife more gently with a scribbled note. He had been wonder- ing, ever since he had been free, what she would say to him ; how she would receive him ; and whether it was right of him to ask her to live with him again. \" Is Mrs. Lerris at home ? \" he asked. \" Mrs. Lerris ? \" echoed the footman, with a raise of his eyebrows.

564 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. sensation of familiarity as he stood in the hall ; the friezes on the wall, the carved ceiling, the bronze electrolier, and all the little details of the place held old memories for him. He had lived for seven years in a narrow white cell. Everything else in the hall, from the pictures on the wall to the oak furniture and the hooded chair by the fire- place, was utterly strange and new to him. \" If I might say so, sir,\" said the footman, a little awkwardly, \" this is a surprise, sir.\" \" I was released three months before my time,\" Lerris said, grimly. \" I hope,\" continued the footman, nervously, \" you're none the worse—I mean, I hope you'll forgive me, sir, but I hardly know how to say it—I \" k \" It doesn't matter,\" Lerris said, a little harshly; in that wide hall, he was still conscious of the humility of his prison years. \" I know what you mean to say. Thanks all the same. Is Lord Rodene at home ? \" \" No, sir; he is away with my lady. Motoring, sir, in France. Back next month.\" \" I see ! \" Thoughts were making Lerris's head dizzy. This home-coming was quite different from what he had expected. Of course, it was unfair of him thus to take her by surprise, but he himself had not known of his release until yesterday, and he had at once sent her a telegram. \" And Mrs. Lerris is with them ?\" he asked. \" Oh, no, sir ! \" the footman said. \" Mrs. Lerris isn't with them. She doesn't live here at all, sir. Lord Rodene lives here, as I said before.\" \" I see !\" Lerris said again, a little mechanically. He was trying to puzzle it out in his mind. Each time he had written to her from prison to the house in Queen's Gate, she had always replied from that address. \" Then letters to her would be forwarded ? \" he hazarded. \" Well, you see, sir, it's like this. Mrs. Lerris sold the house about six months after —after \" \" Go on, man,' after I was sent to prison !' \" Christopher said, impatiently, for the foot- man's clumsy desire to consider his feelings only annoyed him by his tactless way of expressing it. \" Yes, sir ; though I didn't like to put it so bluntly myself. The furniture was sold at Christie's, sir, and the pictures—they fetched a big sum, sir—and Lord Rodene bought the house, sir. Mrs. Lerris sends to collect all letters, sir ; we never forward them on. A young woman calls, sir. There's a telegram for her now,\" he added, taking an envelope from the silver tray on the hall- stand. \" Will you have it, sir? It's addressed ' Lerris,' so it may be for you.\" Lerris tore it open. It was his telegram ! \" It is for me,\" he said, shortly. \" Then you don't know where Mrs. Lerris lives ? \" \" No, sir.\"

THE WIFE OF CHRISTOPHER LERR1S. 565 had been his one consolation that she was dependent on nobody; it mitigated his shame to think that she would not have to give up much. Though he never blamed her, III. He decided to go to Eustace Shand. Shand had been a good friend to him in the dark 'GO ON, MAN, \"AFTER I WAS SENT TO PRISON ! CHRISTOPHER SAID, IMPATIENTLY not even in his most desolate moments, his soul knew that all his great ventures and mighty schemes had begun when he married her and found that she loved wealth and the pleasure it brought. And now she had forsaken him ! days when he had briefed Sir James Pilling to defend him—though not even Sir James's eloquence and mastery of finance had secured him an acquittal. Lerris wrote a hurried message on a piece of paper, and the office-boy took it to Shand,

566 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. A moment later Lerris was in the room behind the door marked \" Private.\" \" Good heavens ! \" said Shand, looking at Lerris. Lerris smiled weakly. \" Yes, I suppose I've changed a bit. Prison does that.\" Shand went to a combination of bookcase and sideboard and mixed a whisky and soda for his visitor. \" Thanks,\" said Lerris. There was a pause. It looked as if Shand scarcely knew what to say. His mind, travelling back seven years, saw a Lerris, spick and span and domi- nant, so different from the Lerris he saw before him now. And yet, as Shand looked at him, he saw that the man was neither broken nor beaten. His face could never be weak ; his eyes promised fine things afresh, if the eagerness could be rekindled in him. \" Shand,\" said Lerris. quietly, \" I've come to ask you if you know where my wife is.\" \" Mrs.—Mrs. Lerris,\" stammered Shand. \" You don't mean to say \" He paused, and Lerris regarded him steadily. \" I went to the house in Queen's Gate—and she was not there. She uses it merely as an address for collecting letters.\" \" Didn't you know ? \" Shand exclaimed. \" You knew ! \" Lerris said. \" Come ! what devil's mystery is at the bottom of this ? You knew, and the footman knows, and I suppose half London knows. Why wasn't I told ? There's some infernal conspiracy here.\" He walked excitedly to and fro. Shand's voice became soothing. \" There's no conspiracy, Lerris ; and there's no need to excite yourself. It was not my business to tell you. I received no instructions to tell you.\" \" Rut you acted for my wife ? \" \" Certainly I did.\" \" Why did she sell the house ? Do you know ? \" \" She gave me no reasons. She came here one day and told me that she had decided to sell the house and everything within it—lock, stock, and barrel. After that \" \" After that—what ? Out with it, Shand. There's something fishy here.\" \" You needn't say that, Lerris—least of all to me,\" Shand said. \" It's unworthy of you.\" Lerris passed his hand wearily across his fore- head. \" I'm sorry,\" he muttered. \" I didn't mean to ruffle you—only \" His voice rose to a complaint. \" Confound it, Shand ! As man to man, you knew I loved my wife. She wanted to live, and I gave her life; she wanted carriages—I gave her carriages ; and maids, she had them ; and diamonds and pearls, and a box at the opera, and great fashionable evenings that cost God knows how much— she had them all. And I went and made money, and more money, until my name was magic—everything I touched made money, and all the people put their money into every- thing with which my name was associated.

THE WIFE OF CHRISTOPHER LERRIS. 567 a little awkwardly. \" I don't know—I mean —if you'll let me lend you this, I'm sure you'll want it.\" He pressed a piece of paper into the other's hand. It was a bearer cheque for twenty pounds. \" Thanks,\" said the great Christopher Lerris. \" It's kind of you to guess. I'm flowed in a ceaseless torrent as it had been flowing during all the years that he had lived in his cell with nothing but a narrow strip of daylight and the memory of Joan to cheer him. His mind was turbulent with the tangle of his thoughts. He could not bring himself to HE PRESSED A PIECE OF TAPER INTO THE OTHER S HAND. sure to want it until I find my feet again. I hadn't bargained for this,\" he added, with a smile that held all the bitterest disappoint- ment in life behind it. IV. Christopher Lerris stood once more in the whirl of London. It seemed years now since he had come out of prison. He walked down Moorgate Street, past Thrcadneedle Street, and so to the Bank corner, where the traffic think evilly of Joan, \"there had been love between them, he knew, and even when he had failed and brought disgrace upon her she had not forsaken him during those days of trouble. All that was true and faith rul and loyal was crystallized in her slight form. True, she was frivolous and loved to possess beautiful things, and wanted to squeeze the last drop of enjoy- ment out of life—but what of that ? She would not have been Joan if she had been otherwise. Why, it was that very love of

568 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. gaiety and laughter that had first attracted him to her. And yet ? Somehow, he could not destroy the gloomy suggestions that haunted his thoughts. He tried to put them away from him as ignoble slanders on her character. Christopher Lerris trudged on towards the bank on which Shand's cheque was payable. The clerk glanced formally at Lerris, regarded the endorsement, glanced up once more as though he were about to make a remark, and then said, \" Gold or notes ? \" in a mechanical way. \" Five pounds in gold, please,\" Lerris said, \" the rest in notes.\" He took the money and crushed the notes into his pocket. As he did so his fingers came into touch with the telegram—his tele- gram that he had taken from the house in Queen's Gate. The obvious occurred to him now. He had been too distraught at the time to think logically. He saw the way to tracing his wife suddenly clear. He remembered the footman's words : \" A young person calls for the letters.\" What more simple than to wait outside the house until the \" young person \" came ; to follow her wherever she went, and see what became of the letters ? The footman at the house in Queen's Gate still wore his immobile expression as he opened the door to Lerris. \" Has anyone been for the letters for Mrs. Lerris ? \" \" No, sir—not yet. Let me see. It's generally Wednesday she calls, sir. That'll be the day after to-morrow.\" Lerris took the telegram from his pocket, and scrawled across it in a feigned hand- writing, \" Opened by error.\" \" I think she'd better see this telegram, after all,\" Lerris said. He felt awkward. It was impossible to take the footman into his confidence ! \" I—I intended to hand it to her myself,\" he explained ; \" but perhaps it would be better if \" He hesitated. \" I see, sir,\" said the footman, showing as little surprise as one would expect from a well-trained servant. Lerris slipped a ten-shilling piece into the man's hand. \" Thank you, sir,\" the footman said. The day after to-morrow ! V. The intervening day was spent in misery and doubt. Lerris wandered about alone, scarcely knowing what to do to hasten the slow- moving hours. He had taken a room in one of those quiet little hotels in a turning off the Strand. There was nothing that he could do except wait. He dined alone in a great restaurant, all gilt and glass, and even the savour of his freedom left him as he sat isolated by his thoughts in the midst of the noisy, chattering crowd of diners. Every woman's voice sounded to him like the well-remembered voice of Joan.

THE WIFE OF CHRISTOPHER LERRIS. happy dinner parties, and they thought always of him. Lies ! Lies ! Nothing but lies —urged the voice within Lerris. And yet, though his face twisted into a wry smile at his thoughts, he could not lose faith in Joan. If she were as she seemed—if all this parade of affection and hope in her letters were nothing but a cloak to hide some treachery, then, indeed, he was forsaken and alone, and the world was lost. The morning lengthened, and presently his watching was re- warded. A young girl came down the street and knocked at the door of 26A. Lerris saw that she was shabbily dressed. She was a wizened - faced little creature, thin and underfed, with a frayed black straw hat set above wispy hair of uncertain colour gathered into an absurd knot. Somet h i n g told Lerris that this was the\"young person\" who came to col- lect his wife's letters. The door opened, and from his point of observation Lerris saw the brown en- velope of the telegram pass from the hand of the foot- man ; the door shut, and the girl walked down the street. Lerris gave her a start, and then fol- lowed her. His heart beat excitedly, as he thought that now he would find the secret of his wife's disao- '011, CHRIS !' SHE SAID. ' CHRIS !

57° THE STRAND MAGAZINE. pearance. The girl hailed an omnibus, and climbed on top. Lerris ran after the bus and got inside. It rocked through the traffic of Marble Arch and down Oxford Street until it came to the street that led to the British Museum and the by-ways of Bloomsbury. Lerris saw the girl descend from the bus, and swiftly followed her. She disappeared round a corner, and he hurried indiscreetly, fearing to lose her. Once or twice she looked behind her, and he halted, but it was only a glance of reassurance that the road was safe to cross. Sometimes they would come into a crowded street, when she would vanish for a moment in the whirl of people, but he found her again, and followed the trail. The streets grew shabby. They came to the drab neighbourhood of St. Pancras—he wondered if his wife could be staying in that great hotel with the red-brick clock-tower set back in an island of its own, with the noise of the traffic beating around it all day like the endless sound of sea-surf. The \" young person \" passed the hotel, and plunged into a street that was nothing but an avenue of dismal, grey houses with tram-lines running in between. All the houses were alike in their uniform of ugliness, black with the unwashed grime of years. Each had its iron railings, its basement, its windows with tattered curtains, and its faded card, in the glass panel above the door, telling of \"Apartments\" or \"Single Bed- Sitting Room to Let.\" Deeper still they plunged into the hideousness of a London slum, and here, before a large tenement-house that rose four-square round a courtyard, the girl slackened her pace. The house reminded Lerris of the prison he had left. She turned into one of the many doorways, and Lerris followed her. His throat was dry with the suspense of these moments ; up, up she went to the top floor, and still he followed her, always at a distance. He saw the little drab knock at the door—and hurried after her, unable to hide his presence any longer. He saw the door open—and he saw the face of his wife. Her eyes were wide as her glance passed over the girl and fell on the face of Lerris hovering behind in the shadows. A little sob came into her throat as she held out her arms to him. \" Oh, Chris ! \" she said. \" Chris ! \" He took her to him, and her head rested, trembling with her sobs, on his shoulder. \" Joan, my beautiful Joan,\" he murmured. \" What has happened to you ? \" For, in a flash, he had been able to take in everything; the glimpse of a poor room beyond the door; the pale, thin face of his wife, her eye-rims red, and her haggard cheeks, and the shabby, grey dress she wore* He took her hands in his, and he noticed that they were the rough, red hands of one who had done much manual work. The sight of her, so majestically sorrowful, came to his

The First Arctic Expedition. EADERS of Captain Scott's story will doubtless be in- terested in a glimpse of the first real Polar expedition ever made, more than three hundred years before that of Scott, and carried out, of course, by very different methods and under the disadvantages of very much more limited knowledge and resource. The results naturally seem small to us to-day. But in view of all the circumstances it cannot be denied that the Dutch expeditions under William Barents compare with little disadvantage with the most gallant of the later Arctic voyages. We have spoken of Barents's voyages in the plural ; as a matter of fact there were three, in as many successive years. But the chief and most interesting of them was the last, in which the leader lost his life. VjI. .i'vi.-75. We derive our knowledge of these voyages from the account of Gerrit de Veer, a com- panion of Barents, which account was pub- lished in an English translation in 1609. It is from this translation that we shall quote, with all its quaintnesses thick upon it. The first of the three voyages began on June 5th, 1594. Beyond one or two adven- tures with Polar bears and walruses, nothing very notable occurred. In 1595 a second \"navigation,\" as our book calls it, was made \" bchinde Norway, Moscouia, and Tartaria, towards the kingdoms of Cathaia and China.\" Seven vessels went this time, carrying merchandize for the expected trade with China ; but they started nearly a month later than their predecessors of the previous year, and for this reason, among others, they returned unsuccessful. The greater part of the narrative of

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. this voyage also is not of very lively interest, but an incident or two may be mentioned. The first objective in these voyages was \" Wey-gates,\" as we find it spelt; a name applied indifferently to the island lying between Nova Zembla and the mainland and to tlie strait to its south, separating it from the mainland. Here a landing party met with a party of Samoyedes, who are thus de- scribed :— \" The maner of their apparell is like as we vse to paint wild men ; but they are not wilde, for they are of reasonable iudgement. They are apparelled in hartes skins from the head to the feete, vnlesse it be the princi- pallest of them, which are apparelled, whether they bee men or women, like vnto the rest, as aforesayd, vnlesse it bee on their heads, which they couer with certaine coloured cloth lyncd with furre : the rest wear cappes of hartes or buckes skinnes, the rough side outwardes, which stand close to their heades and are very fitte.\" Further, \" They trust not strangers : for although that wee shewed them all the courtesie and friendship that wee could, yet they trusted vs not much : which wee pcrceiued hereby, ihat as vpon the first of September we went againe on land to them, and that one of our men desired to see one of their bowes, they refused it, making a signe that they would not doe it. . . . At last, one of our men went neerer to one of the centinels, to speake with him, and offered him great friendship, according to their accustomed manner ; withall giuing him a biskct, which he with great thankes tooke, and presently eate it, and while lie eate it, hce still lookt diligentlv about him on all sides what was clone.\" A few days later, after some beating about among the ice, and some difference of opinion about proceeding or returning, a bear adven- ture occurred having a tragic upshot, thus described :— \" The 6 of September, some of our men went on shore vpon the firme land to seeke for stones which are a kinde of diamont \"—really, they were only rock-crystal—\" whereof there are many also in the States Island ; and while they were seeking yt 2 of our me lying together in one place, a great leane white beare came sodainly stealing out, and caught one of them fast by the necke, who not knowing what it was that tooke him by the necke, cried out and said, Who is it that pulles me so by the necke ? Wherewith the other that lay not t'arre from him. lifted vp his head to see who it was, and perceiuing it to be a monsterous. beare, cryed and sayd, Oh mate, it is a beare ! and therewith presently rose vp and ran away, \" The beare at the first faling vpon the man, bit his head in sunder, and suckt out his blood, wherewith the rest of the men that were on land, being about 20 in number, ran presently thither, either to saue the man, or else to driue the beare from the dead body ; and hauing charged their peeces and bent their

THE FIRST ARCTIC EXPEDITION. 573 all his might stroke the beare vpon the snowt with his peece, at which time the beare fell to the ground, making a great noyse, and William Geysen leaping vpon her cut her throat. The seuenth of September we buryed the dead bodyes of our men in the States Island, and having fleaed \"—that is, flayed— \" the beare, carryed her skinne to Amsterdam.\" The illustration of this disastrous adven- ture (No. i, at the head of this article) has its oddities. In one comprehensive ships, and the rest of the tale of the second voyage is no more than a catalogue of tack- ings and dodgings and veerings, ending in a turn for home. Next year's expedition was the most impor- tant of the three, but the last voyage of William Barents. This time he started earlier—in May—with two ships, the other under the command of John Cornelison Rijp. Before ice was sighted a disagreement arose between Barents and Rijp as to the correct 2. — \"A WONDER IN THE HEAVENS, AND HOW WE CAUGHT A BEAR.\" view we have the whole history ; the bear seizing the first man by the head, his com- panion bolting, the purser shooting the bear— with the stock of his \" peece \" on top of his shoulder, and most painfully against his ear ; the same bear seizing the second man in the middle distance, his companions vamoosing, and the fleet of seven ships gallantly anchored in the offing. It is noticeable, by the way, that throughout these narratives all the bears are alluded to in the feminine gender, like ships ; though as often as not the animal is called \"he\" after already having been called \" she \" over and over again. The ice became too much for the seven course to be pursued ; and in order to keep company with his consort Barents somewhat modified his plans, so that the \" Wey-gates \" was missed altogether, and the vessels passed north-east up the coast of Nova Zembla. The first ice came in sight on the fifth of June, and was of such uncommon formation as to be mistaken for a fleet of white swans ; \"at mid-night wee sailed through it, and the sunne was about a degree eleuated aboue the horizon in the north.\" Then ensued many battles with the ice, many shiftings of course, and other troubles o'i the sort. On June 12th another of the many bear adventures took place,

574 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. which is depicted in the i lustration on the preceding page (No. 2). A bear having been sighted, a boat rowed after it \" thinking to cast a rope about her necke ; but when we were ncere her, shee was so great\"—in other words, so powerful—\" that we durst not doe it, but rowed backe again to our shippe to fetch more men and our armes, and so made to her againe with muskets, hargubushes, halbertes and hatchets.\" Notwithstanding this formidable armoury the bear gave excel- lent sport, for, says the narrator, \" wee fought with her while foure glasses were runne out.\" The glasses, it may be mentioned, contained no refreshments; they were time-glasses, measuring half an hour each, so that the scrimmage lasted two hours. \" And amongst the rest of the blowes that wee gaue her, one of our men stroke her into the backe with an axe, which stucke fast in her backe, and yet she swomme away with it; but we rowed after her, and at last wee cut her head in sunder with an axe, wherewith she dyed ; and then we brought her into John Cornely- son's shippe, where we fleaed her, and found her skinne to be twelve foote long : which done, we eate some of her flesh ; but wee brookt it not well.\" The last phrase doubtless conveying a mild hint of severe indigestion. The illustration of this sporting episode shows the bear in the act of snatching a little refreshment from an oar-blade in the midst of the crowded engagements of the morning. The picture also shows us a \" wonder in the heavens,\" in the shape of the artist's idea of the well-known Arctic phenomenon of the parhelion, or mock-suns, of which observa- tion was made in this voyage. But it must not be supposed that this wonder occurred at the time of the diversions with the bear, or that the sun brought out its growing young family to witness the sport, as might reason- ably be supposed. The phenomenon occurred, as a matter of fact, eight days before, and is merely crowded into this picture by the con- scientious engraver to brighten an otherwise unattractive region in his plate ; or perhaps insisted on by a frugal publisher who per- ceived the opportunity of making one plate do the work of two. Thus is the appearance described :— \" And when the sunne was about south south-east, wee saw a strange sight in the element: for on each side of the sunne there was another sunne, and two rainebowes that past cleane through the three sunnes, and then two raine-bowes more, the one com- passing round about the sunnes, and the other crosse through the great rundle; the great rundle standing with the vttermost eleuated aboue the horizon 28 degrees.\" The \" rundle,\" it may be suggested, appears to mean the circle of the first rainbow. They sailed on northerly and easterly, and two days after their bear-fight they saw some great thing floating on the sea \" which we thought had been a shippe, but passing along by it wee perceLed it to be a dead whale,

THE FIRST ARCTIC EXPEDITION. 575 \" The 25 cf August the weather began to be better, and we tooke great paines and bestowed much labour to get the ice where- with we were so inclosed, togofromvs, but what meanes soeuer we vsed it was all in vaine.\" They tried their best, however, and at first with some hopes of success. The weather moderated and the wind changed, and they did get out of Ice Haven for a little while, only to be driven back again by masses of impassable ice. On the 26th \" ye ice began the west side of the Ice Haven, where we wCre forced, in great cold, pouerty, misery and griefe, to stay all that winter ; the winde then being east north-east.\" And so begins the narrative of the first winter passed by a crew in the Arctic regions. At first the men were in great fear for the safety of their ship. The heavings and crackings of the ice tilted it sometimes almost on end. Day after day the diary tells of hopes and fears for the ship. On August 3. —\"HOW WE BUILT A HOUSE OK WOOD WHEREIN TO KEEP OURSELVES THROUGH THE WINTER.\" to driue wt such force yt we were inclosed round about therewith, and yet we sought al the meanes we could to get out, but it was all in vaine. And at that time we had like to haue lost three men that were vpon the ice to make way for the ship, if the ice had held ye course it went; but as we draue back againe, and that the ice also whereon our men stood in like sort draue, they being nimble as ye ship draue by the, one of them caught hould of the beake head, another vpon the shroudes, and the third vpon the great brase that hung out behind,\" and so were saved. \" The same day in the evening we got to 30th, for instance, \" the ice began to driue together one vpon the other with greater force than before, and bare against the ship wh a boystrous south-west wind and a great snowe, so that all the whole ship was borne vp and inclosed, whereby all that was both about it and in began to crack, so that it seemed to burst in a 100 peeces, which was most fearfull to see and heare, and made all ye haire of our heads to rise vpright with feare ; and after yt, the ship (by the ice on both sides that joined and got vnder the same) was driued so vpright, in such sort as if it had bin lifted vp with a wrench or vice.\"

576 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. So the struggle went on. A number of trees, roots and all, were found driven ashore from the sea, having probably drifted from the Russian coast; and from these enough timber was obtained to build a hut on the land and to burn for fuel as long as they were kept imprisoned. They made sledges and dragged the materials to the site of their house. In this occupation we find them in the third illustration. Here it is to be observed that the toiling castaways tugging at the sledges have so much superabundant energy still available that they employ it in carrying heavy halberds and matchlocks while they pull, disdaining the base expedient of packing these articles on the sledges. In the midst of all this work the carpenter died, and the remaining sixteen men went on build- ing their hut without his direction. They record that on September 27th \" it frose so hard that as we put a nayle into our mouths (as when men worke carpenters worke they vse to doe) there would ice hang thereon when we tooke it out againe, and made the blood follow.\" Bears prowled about the ship constantly. Among other tragedies the beer froze solid. But they killed white foxes, and found them much like rabbits for eating. So October and November dragged through. In their hut they heated stones at the fire to warm their feet, and the surgeon constructed a con- venient bath from a large wine-barrel. Also they set traps about the house to catch foxes for the larder. The internal economy of their hotel is very clearly shown in the above picture, No. 4. In December they had a narrow escape of suffocation, through too tightly stopping all cracks to keep out the deadly cold. On the morning after Christmas Day frost lay thick and white on their sleeping cabins inside the hut, and from this time forward the cold in their hut was almost beyond human en- durance. The frost gathered white on their backs while they huddled with their knees almost in the fire. On February 12th a bear was killed which provided a hundred pounds' weight of grease, and this made welcome fuel for the lamps. Our last illustration, No. 5, depicts not only the shooting of the bear, but, simul- taneously, the skinning of it, on the compre- hensive principle already observed. Also in the same picture we perceive one of the sailors setting a fox-trap, a fox about to be

THE FIRST ARCTIC EXPEDITION. 577 caught in another, and a look-out man at his duty in the crow's-nest established on the chimney-top. And so through the weary months they watched for signs of open water. They took what opportunities they could for outdoor exercises, and among the amusements they indulged in was—what do you guess ? Golf ! On May 15th it is recorded that they played \" at colfe and other exercises, thereby to stirre their ioynts and make them nymble.\" Toward the beginning of June they made ready their boats to sail away, the ship being now useless. They were so weak with priva- tion that this was done with much difficulty; but at last, after infinite toil in cutting a way through the ice to the now open sea, the two boats were launched on June 14th on the voyage that landed the survivors, after many more perils, on the coast of Lapland. But first William Barents, who was lying very sick, wrote out a statement of their journey and their stay in the hut, placed it, rolled up, in a bandolier, and hung it in the chimney as a record for future voyagers, in case of utter disaster. A copy also was taken on each boat. Again and again the boats escaped destruc- tion by chances savouring of the miraculous ; only a few days after the embarkation they were driven to take refuge on the ice, where they remained for some days, and where, on June 20th, the heroic leader, William Barents, breathed his last. It was late in August, after many more perils, that the wasted survivors landed in Lapland. In 1871, two hundred and seventy-four years later, Captain Carlsen found Barents's winter quarters still undisturbed, with cook- ing pots, a clock, weapons, candlesticks, and many other articles much as they had been left. These relics, numbering eighty or so, are now placed in the Naval Museum at the Hague, where an exact copy of the hut at Nova Zembla has been made for their recep- tion. And the Barents Sea, between Spits- bergen and Nova Zembla, still preserves the name of the first of the long list of great Arctic explorers. ' MOW WK SHOT A HEAR, WHRREFROM WE GOT A COOD HUNDRED POUNDS' WEIGHT OF GREASE.-'

Banana bombshell JHustratecC ByJoBn Cameron FEW preliminary words as to Curtis Beckwith and how I first made the acquaintance of that picturesque individual. I had for some time known him by sight as a member and occasional haliitut of the Frying-Pan. The Frying-Pan is the cosy, easy, go-as-you-please club to which I have the honour to belong. Curtis Beckwith is entitled to prefix the word'\"Honourable\" to his name on his visiting- cards ; though in point of fact he never does so, for two good reasons. Firstly, he is above the commonplace habit of indulging in visiting- cards at all. Secondly, he hates to have the fact advertised that he is the son of an Earl. Curtis Beckwith is not the sort of man who cares to shine in somebody else's reflected light. So far as he scintillates, he much prefers to scintillate \" on his own.\" He is, before all things, a personality—strong, original, fascinating, with more than a touch of mystery about him. He lives his own life ; has few men and no women friends. I shouldn't call him a misanthrope or even a misogynist, for both those words imply active dislike; whereas Curtis Beckwith does not bother himself sufficiently about the matter to dislike anyone. You seldom see him talking to anyone at the Frying-Pan; to individuals hardly ever. But sometimes, when a subject that interests him comes up in general conversation, he will break in. And on those rare occasions he has the floor to himself. Not that he consciously monopolizes the conversation. Merely it is that Curtis Beckwith talks. And when Curtis Beckwith talks, nobody else is in the picture. All the rest desist as if by common consent. The spell of the master-tongue is upon them, and the magic of the magnetic mind. In stature he is tall and spare, with high shoulders and a slight stoop. His complexion is pale, but singularly clear ; his forehead broad, his nose aquiline ; his mouth strong, yet delicate and having a certain subtle mobility, suggestive of a fine sense of humour. But the distinctive feature of his face is the eyes, in mere colour indeed a common hazel, but in expression—ah ! here lies the miracle of them, impossible of translation into written words. One moment they disarm by their simplicity; the next, baffle by their com- plexity. But always they arrest, they fascinate, they hold. It was in the smoking-room of the Frying- Pan that Curtis Beckwith first spoke to me. I had been chatting with Algie Fitzjohn. Both of us were in llast vein, Algie from con- stitutional habit, myself from the depressing influence of an inoperative liver. We talked the usual commonplaces of bore- dom ; descanted on the stale, flat, and unpro- fitable humdrum of modern civilized life; voiced our mutual yearnings to be off to the virgin forests of Darkest Africa, there to pass

THE BANANA BOMBSHELL. 579 the low stone fender with his shoulders against the mantelpiece, looking down at me from his six feet three inches, an odd sardonic gleam in his keen eyes. \" Pardon the liberty I take in addressing you when I do not even know your name,\" he began, in his rich, deep voice, that was full of a natural music, very pleasant to the ear. I started, perhaps even thrilled a little. It was the first time he had taken the slightest notice of me. \" My name is Carisbrooke — Arthur Carisbrooke,\" said I, in answer to his implied query. \" And so, my dear Carisbrooke,\" he said, a whimsical smile flickering about the corners of his finely-chiselled mouth, \" you find life in civilized London humdrum ? You are spoiling for adventures, and pining to betake yourself to Darkest Africa in search of them ? \" There was a hint of genial banter in his tone, which I was not slow to notice. Before I had time to reply, he had added :— \" But why Darkest Africa, Carisbrooke ? \" \" Oh,\" I rejoined, \" I do not stand out for Darkest Africa in particular. Any other part of the globe where the chance of exciting adventures is equally probable would suit me as well.\" \" If that is all, then why not London ? \" he demanded, fixing his eyes upon me in a strange, intent gaze. \" There are plenty of exciting adventures to be had in this Metro- polis, if you know where to look for them.\" \" Very likely,\" said I. \" But that is the difficulty. I have knocked about London as much as most men of my age, but never have I run up against anything that could be called a real adventure yet.\" \" Would you like to ? \" he asked, still keeping his eyes fixed on me. \" I should indeed,\" said I. \" No matter what the risks ? \" he pressed, seeming to look me through and through for any sign of faltering. \" No matter what the risks,\" I assented. \" Then,\" he rejoined, \" your desire shall be gratified, Carisbrooke. In the course of the next twenty-four hours I undertake to put you in the way of adventures such as you would scarcely match in Darkest Africa in a month of Sundays. Moreover, it shall be within a two-mile radius from where we stand. That. I think, is a fair sporting offer. Are you on ? \" \" Rather,\" I cried. And I spoke truly. In my present mood, the thing appealed to me strongly ; not only from the attraction of the adventure itself, but even more from Vol. xlvL-78. the prospect of being introduced to it under the wing of Curtis Beckwith. The glamour of the man was on me. I knew his reputation well enough to make me con- fident that he was not talking through his hat. All that he said he meant, and more than all. When he spoke of an \" adventure,\" it was not, on his lips, the language of

5So THE STRASD MAGAZINE. old hag, with a shawl thrown over her head, who exhaled an atmosphere redolent of un- sweetened gin. \" Mr. Beckwith live here ? \" I inquired. \" First-floor front,\" she answered. Then, without further remark, she disappeared along the passage, leaving me to find my own way upstairs. I did so, groping my way in the darkness, until, upon the first landing, I came to what I supposed to be the right door. I rapped on it with my knuckles. Curtis Beckwith's voice bade me \" Come in,\" and I entered. The room was a fair-sized one, but sparsely and cheaply furnished. In the centre was a large table at which Beckwith sat, with a blotting-pad and writing materials before him. The rest of the table was littered with jars, phials, test-tubes, and other apparatus such as are used by the devotees of experimental chemistry. He rose to greet me as I entered. \" Hail, Carisbrooke ! \" said he, extending his hand. \" You find me dabbling in my latest hobby. I was, in fact, just committing to paper the formula of a chemical discovery of mine which is destined to work great things. Take any interest in explosives ? \" \" Not much,\" I replied. \" Stinks—as we used to call them at Oxford—are not in my line.\" \" Nor in mine—until a few months ago,\" he rejoined. \" Only since I turned Anarchist have I had anything to do with them.\" \" Anarchist ? \" I ejaculated, in astonish- ment. \" You an Anarchist ? \" \" Even so, Carisbrooke,\" he answered, placidly. \" A militant Anarchist of the most uncompromising type. Why not, pray ? Have you any objection ? \" \" It's no business of mine,\" I replied. \" But, come, you're joking, of course ? \" \" Not at all,\" he answered. \" What makes you think so ? Nothing unreasonable in it; surely you're a bit of an Anarchist yourself, Carisbrooke—in the sense that you seem to lie at war with the humdrum conventions of civilized life ? \" \" But I don't dabble in explosives for the advancement of my propaganda,\" I said, unable to make up my mind whether to take him seriously or not. \" No,\" he rejoined, with an odd sardonic smile. \" And that is perhaps why you are still merely the voice of one crying in the wilderness. If you want to attract attention to your creed, you should throw a bombshell through the window of No. 10, Downing Street. An ounce of nitro-glycerine is worth a ton of oratory. To educate the Philistine is always a slow and pretty hopeless process. It is far quicker and more effective to blow him up.\" \" And blow up myself at the same time— eh ? \" I retorted, still unable to determine whether all this was mere ironical pleasantrv or the sober expression of his real opinions. \" That is, of course, the drawback,\" he said. \"But there is a way out of it, my dear Carisbrooke ; you should do as I do—perform

THE BANANA BOMBSHELL. fraternity to-night. I am expecting one of them at this moment to guide me to the secret place of rendezvous. You are to accompany me, Carisbrooke—in the character of my partner and assistant—in order to see fair play. One has to be cautious in dealing with these gentry, you know. They are not the keeping with the suggestion of his clothes. The low, receding forehead, the shifty, vicious eyes, at once cunning and cruel, the loose mouth, and the general air of unwholesomeness that characterized his face betokened him a true type of criminal-degenerate. What had been his past record I had, of course, no means ' HE ROSE TO GREET ME As I ENTERED. sort whom you can trust farther than you can see them.\" Again he laughed. At that moment there came a tap at the door. \" Come in,\" said Beckwith. A man entered, and a most unprepossessing individual he was. His dress was that of a well-to-do artisan, but his face was not in of knowing. But it was not difficult to forecast his future. That sooner or later he would find himself in a convict prison or a lunatic asylum no observant person who looked at him could possibly doubt, ff a man's destiny was ever written on his face, \" Broadmoor or Dartmoor \" was written large on this man's. Curtis Beckwith, however,

582 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. greeted him with politeness, even with cordiality. \" Good evening, Brother Pike,\" he said. \" Glad to see you. Take a chair. I'll be ready in a minute. Ry the way, let me introduce you to my friend and partner, Mr. Carisbrooke, of whom I spoke to you last night. He insists, as I told you, on accom- panying me, being interested to the extent of a half-share in my invention ; so it's only natural, of course, that he should wish to be present at the deal. Moreover, he's very much in sympathy with the movement, and quite as anxious to further it as I am.\" He told these falsehoods about me quite glibly and naturally ; and I, of course, could do nothing but maintain an acquiescent silence. It was clear that if I was to be admitted to the conclave at all, it could only be under these false colours. Brother Pike acknowledged the introduction with a nod, and said he was glad to meet me ; though I thought he eyed me suspiciously. Meanwhile Beckwith was folding up the sheet of paper on which he had written out his precious formula ; and, having done so, proceeded to stow it away in a letter-case, which he relegated to the outside breast- pocket of his velveteen coat. Then he took three of the jars from the table, carrying each carefully one by one, and locked them away in a cupboard. \" A necessary precaution,\" he explained, with that odd, sardonic smile of his. \" If anyone should come in here during my absence and get playing about with these things—the house would certainly go up aloft and several of its neighbours along with it. Now I'm ready. Shall we be moving, Brother Pike ? \" Pike responded to the suggestion with some evident alacrity. He left the room first, and seemed glad to get out of it. The reason was not difficult to discern. I had noticed the apprehensive glances with which he had watched Beckwith transferring the jars of chemicals from the table to the cupboard. It was plain enough that the fellow was at heart an arrant coward, and that, however keen he might be on the blowing up of other people, lie had a wholesome tenderness for his own skin. Not that I could blame him altogether. The knowledge that the slightest accident, a mere slip of the hand or foot, might result in our all soaring through the roof in disinte- grated fragments was enough to upset the strongest nerves. Indeed, I am fain to con- fess that I hadn't been entirely happy in the presence of those infernal jars myself. Among the litter left on the table was a plate containing a solitary banana—appar- ently the last remnant of a bunch with which Curtis Beckwith (whom I knew to be very- partial to this particular fruit) had been regaling himself. At the last moment before quitting the room he picked up the banana and slipped it into his pocket. Seeing that I had observed him, he made haste to explain,

THE BANANA BOMBSHELL. 583 Beckwith stopped and looked round, to make sure that I had come in. This gave me my opportunity to tip him the hint that we had been followed. I was not slow to avail myself of it. But before I had whispered more than two or three words he gripped me by the arm. \" Mum ! \" he muttered, under his breath, sharply, almost fiercely. The passage was in darkness. I could not see his face. But it could scarcely have been more expressive than the tone in which he had uttered that pregnant monosyllable. Pike led us down a dark flight of stone stairs into the basement of the house. As we reached the bottom a door in front of us was suddenly thrown open, letting out a bright blaze of light, and we passed together into the room from which the light proceeded. It was a large underground cellar, with a low arched brick roof and bare brick walls, oozy with damp and showing here and there a slimy green deposit. The atmosphere of the place was musty, clammy, and vault-like. It seemed to strike a sudden chill into my bones. I could scarcely repress a shiver ; there was something ominous about it, filling me with a vague sense of uneasiness. And this uneasiness the appearance of the occu- pants of the cellar did nothing to dissipate. There were twelve of them in all, seated round a long wooden table that stood in the middle of the cellar; and twelve more unconscionable-looking rascals I had never seen gathered together in one place before. Their types of face were various : some were cunning and shifty, some frankly brutal ; some were handsome in their own style, some villainously ugly ; some had swarthy olive complexions, some were pale and pasty ; some were hairy, some were clean-shaven ; some were washed, some conspicuously the reverse ; but, despite their several varieties, they all agreed in this : there was not a face among all the lot of them that you would choose, if you could avoid it, to encounter in a lonely thoroughfare on a dark night. I confess I liked the look of them very little indeed, and the glances with which they regarded us even less. At the head of the table sat the chairman. He was a big, broad-shouldered man with a bull-neck and a large, flabby face, coarse, sen- sual, and entirely repulsive. Yet, in its way, it was a strong face, too, and there was that in the washed-out blue eyes that denoted keen mental force of a certain kind. He addressed Curtis Beckwith with a few words of polite greeting ; and his speech was obviously that of an educated man. Beckwith responded in the same polite strain. He seemed to be per- fectly at his ease in this conclave of unmiti- gated ruffians—to treat the situation with as careless an unconcern as if it had been a mere social \" at home \" in a West-end drawing- room. I could not help contrasting his cool self-possession, his light-hearted gaiety of demeanour, with my own sensations of uneasy