A Queer Xmas Story

CHARLEY SINCLAIR was sore perplexed. His usually cheerful countenance wore a look of deep concern; the easy, nonchalant, happy-go-lucky nature had for a time received a severe check. His temperament, ordinarily so placid, had given place to a state of nervous and irritable excitement; and as he paced the somewhat restricted confines of his boarding house bed chamber, a burst of anger and despair would ever and anon break from his lips, and his cry of "What shall I do?" "What shall I do?" betokened the unusual importance of his difficulties.

      Charley Sinclair was a young gentleman over whose curly head some thirty summers had passed. Good-looking, blessed with robust health, a cheery disposition, and with a supreme contempt for the conventional rules of society, his career through life had passed so far, if with no great credit to his family, with but little discomfort to himself. His character, without being exactly bad, was weak and vacillating, and he was prone to view with considerable disfavour what he considered the crude notions of rectitude and honor, some escapade called forth from some older and wiser head. Left at an early age, fatherless, a too indulgent mother unconsciously fostered the weaker point in his nature. Drawing a small but comfortable annuity from a property in Scotland, she pinched and scraped to gratify any whim and extravagance her darling boy's erratic fancy willed; to do the youth justice his ability and energy in cultivating a taste for amusement, and not always of the purest was only, equalled by the perfect sang froid and readiness with which he was willing to express sorrow and contrition for some baccahanalian orgie or shady betting transaction. But he did not always escape so easy by these latter methods.

      From school Charley in due course was sent to College, where after being twice plucked, he was "sent down" for riotous conduct, and his uncle, a manufacturer in Yorkshire, offered him a seat in the counting-house. Charley, though somewhat loth to settle down to the humdrum of office routine, was, owing to various reasons, principally of a monetary nature, constrained to accept. Here for some years Charley behaved fairly well and his bluff good humour and convivial temperament gained for him many friends, but the old leaven broke out again, and to prevent a rather serious scandal Charley was shipped off to the Cape Colony, where, through the influence of his uncle, he obtained a fairly lucrative appointment. Charley liked the Cape, and soon made headway in the good graces of many. Old Mr.Smith, a well to do merchant, to whom Charley had brought a letter of introduction from the old country, among other blessings, had a charming daughter, whose winsome manners and laughing blue eyes quickly captivated the plastic fancy of the susceptible Charley, and ere many months were passed, the fair Clara had surrendered the citadel of her heart to his ardent wooing. The father's consent being readily obtained, and an early date arranged for the wedding ceremony, Charlie Sinclair considered himself in more senses than one a most fortunate mortal, or as he expressed it, "a lucky dog!" for Clara in addition to her own sweet self would bring him a most respectable dowry, which, under the present impecunious state of his exchequer, would be highly acceptable.

      But on the horizon of this pleasing picture there arose a little dark cloud that threatened to wreck all his future bright hopes and prospects; and it happened this wise. Old Mr.Smith, Charley's future father-in-law, frequently visited Kimberley in, the course of business, and on one occasion he brought from that Eldorado a magnificent rough diamond. After being greatly admired by the friends of both, he gave it to Charley, desiring him with all despatch and secrecy to get the stone cut by some local diamond-cutter, as he intended it for a marriage gift to his daughter.

      Charley was of course delighted to execute such a pleasing commission, and in due course the diamond was received from the jeweller, resplendent in the prismatic beauty the cutter's art had developed. It was truly a beautiful and valuable gem, and Charley thought how his darling's eyes would sparkle with pleased delight as she gazed upon the handsome present. Calling at Mr. Smith's office to return the diamond to that gentleman's keeping pro tem., as Charley smilingly thought, he was surprised to learn that gentleman had suddenly been called away up-country, and would not return for some days; but in time, as the brief note stated which Charley received, for the wedding, so curb your patience my dear boy; above all guard the diamond! Charley was thus, unfortunately for the after consequences, left custodian of the diamond. It so happened that Charley at this particular period was very pressed for a little available cash, not that this was an unusual condition of affairs, as before observed, but at this crisis of his entry into a matrimonial investment, Charley discovered many necessitous demands upon a scanty purse. It was true the kind old' mater, as Charley feelingly called her, had promised to furnish her prodigal son with a further supply from her crippled resources ere the happy day arrived, but (a last resource) the present was the evil thereof, and to the elucidation of this somewhat difficult problem his natural capacities were duly exercised.

      As he thoughtfully strolled through a neigbourhood sacred to the laws of commerce, he was rudely aroused from the realms of cogitation by coming into violent contact with another person, who seemed similarly oblivious to visible objects. "Hullo!" simultaneously exclaimed both parties so unpleasantly awakened. "What the d—" (then discovering in the momentary glance an acquaintance with each other) — their expletives were merged into a hearty laugh, smoothing into good humour the threatened storm. The person Charley so roughly collided against was a gentleman (save the mark) were known to the commercial community and to others of less general business qualities. His avocations were — well, they might be generally expressed as financial. Commissioner Kerr would use a harsher term.

      He was a gentleman whose experience in ways that were dark, and links that were queer, was unlimited, his knowledge of human nature was cradled in a school of adversity, and from the hard facts of reality he guaged the merits of mankind with cynical doubt. He was not adverse to assist his fellow creatures provided they were considered in his sight worthy — he, Mr. Noseman, for that was the worthy's name, was always willing to lend money on good security at 60 per cent. if he could not get more, and he had thereon waxed contented and rich. Such was the individual Charley in his unconsciousness stumbled against.

      "Well, how's the money market to-day, Mr. Sinclair?" slily remarked Mr.Noseman, after a few preliminary observations, gently rubbing his hands together.

      "D— bad!" answered Charley, a gloomy frown chasing away his cheery smile; "I'm pushed hard just at present — do you feel inclined to offer any monetary palliation to my troubles?"

      "Well, that depends," replied Mr.Noseman; "you know the terms, dear boy: security — tangible, visible, and my little den is always open to you."

      "Yes I know," laughed Charley. "Do you know, I don't like to say anything rude, but I always think of Shylock when I see you, and his pound of flesh; but you are not so satisfied as he was, for you would have two pounds!" and Charley good humouredly slapped Mr. Noseman on the shoulder.

      Being near the latter's office, or den, as he now appropriately called it, they both entered, and Charley Sinclair, with all the native eloquence he was remarkable for in borrowing money, endeavoured to impose a rather fallacious story of his expectations upon the wily old money-lender, but without result. "Give me your bill with some tangible security," he replied, "and I will do as you require."

      "But what security can I give you," answered Charley. "I have no ——.' As he spoke his hand unconsciously came in contact with his waistcoat-pocket, in which reclined a panacea for the present evil, his distant bride's diamond. For one brief moment Charley drove back the tempting thought that flashed through his brain — "Here I have the means of immediate relief," mentally he mused. "But can you do such a dishonourable action?" queried his good genius. "But it will be only a temporary pledge," urged his evil genius, "besides in three week's time, too, your remittance from Home will enable you to redeem the stone, and no one will be the wiser."

      This last conviction confirmed Charley's wavering scruples, and to be brief, the diamond changed possession, Charley undertaking to redeem the pledge fourteen days after date for the sum of £50, or otherwise forfeit the diamond, for which obligation he received in ready cash £45. Although the terms were stringent, Charley with the sanguine confidence of a true gambler, never doubted his ability to recover the diamond at will, and therefore with the consistency of his unstable nature, banished the short fleeting qualms of regret that pricked his conscience.

      Mr. Smith, by Charley's lowest computation, would not return to town for at least ten days, and a further providential circumstance was his fiancee's total ignorance of the existence of the diamond. In a few days the mail would arrive, and with it funds from one who had hitherto never failed him — and all will end well. So, comfortably adopting this solution of the affair, he hastened away and devoted the spare portion of his time that day in the discharge of certain small claims and the purchase of a few trifles for his approaching marriage, without a second thought of the consequences of his breach of trust.

      It may be needless to remark, in paranthesis, that nothing would have suited Mr. Noseman better than to learn Sinclair's inability to furnish the means of redemption of the pledged diamond. Independent of the value of the stone (honestly worth £200), Charley had given umbrage by his somewhat outspoken, bluntness on more than one occasion touching certain transactions, and this alone, to one of Mr. Noseman's calibre, constituted a fault not easily forgiven; and he had determined upon no renewal, if it should be requested.

      The third evening, after the above recorded facts — Charley Sinclair reclined in indolent comfort: on the wide stoep of his father-in-law's residence. In a low wickerwork chair in close proximity to her lover, sat Clara, conversing in that low monotone, the sweet nothings of the early romance of courtship. A soft and gentle breeze, succeeding a day of oppressive heat, swept the mountain slopes, very cool and soothing a faded nature. 'Twas the season of approaching Christmas, and made specially dear to these two, from the fact it would herald the consummation of their sweetest hopes, marriage. Charley, under the delightful influence of Clara, had been forming higher and more creditable resolutions for his future guidance, and possibly had the course of fate been prevented — its shoals and quicksands his destiny urged him upon, had been avoided, and this veracious story never been written.

      An hour may have passed in a palace of contentment, when there was heard the rapid crunch of wheels upon the drive leading to the house, and in a short space there drove to the door a cab, out of which descended a figure, which assumed to Charley's startled eyes, the shape of Nemesis. A glad cry sprung from the lips of Clara, as she sprang down the steps and was clasped in her father's arms. For it was Mr. Smith, who, unfortunately for Charley, had returned so unexpectedly.

      Charley had perforce to come forward, and with a sickly smile attempt a welcome he was far from feeling. He was in a wretched state of anxiety during the rest of the evening, and this feeling was not assuaged by the parting remarks by Mr. Smith, when bidding him good night.

      "Don't forget," he whispered, "to bring the diamond to my office to-morrow, Charley. M—— and N——," (the jewellers who had cut the stone) "told me you had received it some days ago, and it was without a flaw, so don't forget. Good night." Charley went home to his boarding-house in a state of mind bordering upon despair. He knew the sense of honour and integrity of Mr. Smith, and how he would visit, with the utmost censure, the guilty act he had committed, when it came to his ears. No influence that could be brought to bear would reconcile him to the marriage, and through the silent hours of night the unhappy man endeavoured to form plans to recover the diamond. "I must have it," he muttered. "I have about £10 left. Surely Old Noseman will accept my promissory note for the balance when I tell him the circumstances, of course, he will," and somewhat comforted by this opinion, his volatile nature regained a little of its former assurance, and he flung himself on his bed to snatch a little sleep, for the dawn was fast approaching.

      By nine o'clock next morning Sinclair was at Mr.Noseman's office, and told him his requirements; but to his great astonishment, Mr.Noseman politely but firmly declined to surrender the diamond but for cash down. He regretted his inability to comply with Mr. Sinclair's wishes, but having been rather severely bitten lately with worthless paper, he must decline to accede in the present case. All Charley's arguments were abortive; Mr. Noseman's mind was adamant. How bitterly Charlie cursed the momentary weakness which lured him into such folly! What to do now, or where to raise the £50, was the question. He would try, however; and round to every acquaintance he knew Charley trotted, but without avail. Those who could lend it found some excuse to put him off, and those who would have lent it had not the means.

      A species of cool despair took possession of his senses, and he suffered more in that brief space of tribulation than ever he had done throughout the whole course of his life; for he loved Clara with all the strength of his being, and the disgrace attached to the diamond was as naught compared to the fear of losing her. In this fluctuating state he returned to his lodging with the half-formed intention of writing a last despairing letter to Clara confessing all; then as the consequences flashed across his mind, his resolution wavered, and we find him as our opening lines picture him, sore perplexed, and a prey to various emotions.

      As Charley passed his chamber then came a knock at the door, and in answer to his irritable, "come in," then stepped into the room a rather stout, florid-looking individual — of some five and twenty years of age. This new comer, Fred Mason, had been known to Charley only as a billiard-room sort of an acquaintance, and although his antecedents were of a very shady character, there was much in his composition that was in accordance with Charley's ideas regarding the laws of property. Fred Mason had been a little bit of everything in his time, commercial traveller, horse doctor, betting man, diamond dealer; and he knew just as much of medical chemistry to get himself sometimes into trouble.

      "Hullo!" exclaimed he, "what the deuce is the matter with you? You look as if some gonaph had gonivered you with a wrong 'un."

      Be it here remarked Mr. Fred. Mason's language was often choicely interlarded with a slang no doubt acquired during journeys of a rather mysterious character, and undertaken at frequent intervals to the Diamond Fields.

      "Oh, go to the devil!" angrily answered Charley; "I'm in no humour for your Hebrew slang; what do you want?"

      "Well," replied the party spoken to, quite unabashed, seating himself on the edge of the bed, "I call them unkind. I called at your office (when they told me you had not been there to-day) to ask your attendance at a little supper with cards this evening; and here, after I have found you, looking as if you were mad, you round on me like a nark," and the plump blotchy face wore an aggrieved air of innocence.

      "No, not to-day," quickly answered Charley, "I can see no one. I am in terrible trouble, and undecided whether to blow my brains out, or jump off the jetty."

      "Better come and have a drink first, my boy — but seriously Charley, what's upset you? can I in any way assist you?" and Fred rose from his seat and stood before Charley with a semi-serious look in his bright twinkling eyes.

      "Yes, you can!" eagerly returned the other; "lend me, for a few day's only, £50 — £40 will do." and Sinclair, with feverish eagerness, grasped the arm of the versatile visitor.

      But the latter sadly shook his head, saying plaintively, "no go, my boy. But come, tell me the trouble," he said kindly. seeing the look of dejection on Charley's face; "perhaps I may be able after all to assist you."

      Charley considered — could he explain to this whilom acquaintance the story of his abasement? "If I confide in him," he mused, "in a few days, perhaps in a few hours, all will be known. Yes it can do no harm," and bracing himself for the ordeal, he detailed into the listening ears of his companion a full account from beginning to end.

      For some minutes after the recital, that party was sunk in deep thought. At length, rising his head, he said slowly, "There is a way out of this difficulty, though desperate, looking upon the face of it. I have known it to succeed, but take it easy," he continued, "Charley," curbing that person's eager questioning: "This thing wants working out, and must not be done in a hurry. Now sit down there, and answer me such questions as I put to you. Have you done business with this Mr. Noseman before? "Yes," regretfully answered Charley.

      "How did you repay him?" was the next question.

      "Sometimes by cash, other times by cheque, when the amounts were due."

      "By cheque," eagerly queried Fred.

      "Yes," responded Charley, "often."

      "And he returned your notes of hand on you handing him your cheque?"

      "Yes, of course," answered Charley, surprised at the question.

      "Hurrah!" shouted Fred, cutting a caper, "the trick's done, my boy! consider the sparkling little cleavage in your pocket," and in great excitement he seized Charley by the arm, and danced him round the room.

      In a little while Fred calmed down, and condescended to explain to his puzzled friend his meaning. A long conversation following, the sum total of which was that Fred, owing to his smattering of chemical knowledge, was able to prepare an ink which, to all intents and purposes, answered the requirements of ordinary ink, with this special difference, that the writing from such ink, when exposed to the air, after a short time entirely faded and disappeared, leaving not the slightest trace upon the paper.

      It is not in our province to divulge the specific chemicals composing this ink; suffice to say that after a hard struggle to overcome the objections of Charley, Fred succeeded, and forthwith proceeded to commence operations. Fred procured a blank cheque on the bank Charley was in the habit of patronising, when in funds, but not out of his cheque-book. No, he was too cunning for that, the number might be traced. The ink prepared, and everything in readiness, Charley and Fred, to sustain their courage, went out and had a small bottle. On their return the check was filled in for £50, the amount due, and off Charley hastened to Mr. Noseman's office, Fred appointing a place of meeting after the business was done. Charley entered the office of Mr. Noseman for the second time that morning, not without considerable misgiving. Fortunately for the success of the scheme, Mr. Noseman was in a good humour, and he welcomed Charley in quite a gracious manner.

      "Ah, back again I see, Mr. Sinclair; you have been successful in procuring the needful, eh? Be seated, please," and Mr. Noseman politely pointed to a chair.

      "Yes," feebly answered Charley, heartily wishing himself out of it. "I explained my position to the Chief, and got an advance of salary, so have brought you a cheque in redemption of my note and the diamond," and he tendered the cheque to Mr.Noseman, with a furtive glance of apprehension. That gentleman, however, calmly looked at the figures, quite satisfied apparently, and rising from his chair, he placed the cheque on his desk, and slowly moved towards his safe, at the same time carrying on a running fire of small talk that was absolute agony for his hearer to listen to. Already he could see the writing on the cheque slowly fading away, and he most heartily mentally cursed the tardy movements of the money-lender. At last, after a delay that seemed interminable, the diamond was handed over to him, then the ecstasy of the moment in again possessing the gem almost overpowered his senses. Not stopping to answer the polite inquiries of Mr.Noseman, he rushed from the neighbourhood of his last act of treachery, and joined the waiting confederate.

      Our sketch draws to a close. Mr.Noseman, about the same time that Charley Sinclair handed over the recovered diamond to Mr.Smith, paid into his bank, with others, a cheque he had received that day valued £50. At the bank counter the clerk returned to Mr.Noseman a blank cheque that had apparently got mixed up with those filled in and signed, remarking that he (Mr.Noseman) had made an error of £50 in the calculation of the totals. Mr.Noseman was astonished, and after examining the particulars, returned to his office in a meditative mood. He discovered eventually that a trick had been played upon him, and a violent interview took place between the parties; but in the absence of proof, and a total denial on Mr.Sinclair's part of any loan advanced to him on security of a diamond, a criminal prosecution might have only resulted in a claim for damages by the defendant, so Mr. Noseman buried in the dark recesses of his brain the memory of that diamond, and yet hungers for retributive justice.

      Charley eventually led to the altar his loved Clara, and to all appearances is a happy and reformed man. His wife had the famous diamond set in a golden setting, and sometimes wears it at balls and parties, but her husband never views the sparkling carbon without thinking of the agony it caused, and how near it wrecked all his hopes of happiness.

J. R. C.     

(THE END)