CHAPTER XIV.

UNFORTUNATE POSTAGE-STAMP.

_A street acquaintance--The fascinating widow--Fatal marriage--Marrying another man's wife--A question of damages--Lucky hit at Ascot._

"Do you know that you have married my wife?"

This somewhat extraordinary piece of intelligence was communicated to my friend Alfred Drummond in his own home about three months after he was married. The person who claimed a prior right to the lady had scamp plainly written on his bloated features, and he looked all over a man who lived by his wits. I thought it an ill-advised union from the first, but when I ventured on a word of warning, I was immediately put down as an old croaker, so I determined to let the wilful man have his own way. The lady was certainly beautiful in that voluptuous sense so much admired by painters of the Dutch school, but I was not taken with her. There was a shiftiness about her glance not pleasant to see either in horse or human being. Although I drank to their happiness in Irroy on that fatal wedding day, I was never sanguine of the result, but by the utmost stretch of my imagination I could not have foreseen the deplorable consequences. The marriage totally wrecked my friend's life, and all but ruined me.

If men will pick up their wives in such an irregular manner, they must not be astonished at the surprises the future has in store for them. It will be learned from this narrative that acquaintances made in the street are never any good. My friend met the girl he married in a post-office; she was sending a telegram, and his business was confined to the purchase of a penny stamp. As it turned out, the buying of that stamp was the most unfortunate thing Drummond ever done. I have often thought that if he had by any chance only seen the contents of the lady's message, his eyes would have been opened and he would have been saved much money. They spoke--I never knew exactly how that came about, but it is easy to guess. A look would be sufficient, for Alfred Drummond, who was one of the most susceptible of men, but I rather think that the ill-fated intimacy began with the restoration of a dropped handkerchief. At all events, the meeting in the post-office ended by the lady's address being obtained, and permission to visit her being granted. A quiet, well-appointed brougham was waiting the fair siren outside the post-office, and my friend came rushing to me full of the adventure, and, so to speak, treading on air.

When you find a man is in love don't trouble to reason with him. Labour lost. And for your own sake don't attempt to say one word against his mistress if you want to avoid a duel to the death. Any aspersions cast upon the whiteness of the charmer's teeth, the colour of her hair, the smallness of her foot, or the levity of her conduct, will never be forgiven. Mr. Alfred Drummond had had to my knowledge many previous attacks of this love fever, but none of them so sudden, severe, and lasting a nature as the present one. He was perfectly infatuated, and his ravings about the lady's perfections disgusted his more sober-minded companions. There is no doubt Mrs. Selby--he told us that was the name--gave him great encouragement from the commencement. It seems that on presenting himself at the lady's villa, which was situated at West Brompton, the door was opened by a man servant, and he was shown into an exquisitely decorated drawing-room. He was received most graciously, and his visits became of almost daily occurrence, and letters were continually passing between them. On the occasion of a carpet dance, I was introduced to my friend's enslaver, but her shifty look created doubts about her integrity in my mind, and I did not like the people I met at her house. If they did not belong to Bohemia proper, they lived within hailing distance of that mystic land. No one enjoys a "lark" more than the writer of this "ower true tale," but when it becomes a question of marriage, too much caution cannot be used. There would be fewer cases in the Divorce Court if men would be ruled by their judgments instead of their passions. All my efforts to control my friend in this matter were fruitless. I could see things were approaching a climax, so I was not surprised at the announcement Drummond made to me one morning, about two months after their first interview.

"Congratulate me, old fellow," he said, bouncing into my office, with an open note in his hand; "I have won the prize."

"I am very glad; how much is it." I knew well enough what he meant, and was sorry to hear the news.

"It is not a prize in the French lottery; something immeasurably superior to money."

"A castle on the Rhine, with the title of Baron attached to it?"

"No, stupid; you are extra dull this morning; the incomparable prize is Mrs. Selby."

"Oh, the widow," I remarked; "so all mysteries have been explained."

"I don't know what you mean; the mysteries, as you call them originated in your own suspicious mind."

"Then tell me who is she after all. As you are going to marry her, of course you know everything?"

"Who should she be but herself, Mrs. Selby, the widow of a City merchant who was killed by the natives three years ago when on a business visit to the Cape?"

"Then you have been introduced to her relations?"

"What are you driving at? I know her friends."

"I said _relations_."

"She has not got any; so much the better for me."

"Perhaps; but if I stood in your shoes I should like to be posted up a little more about my wife's antecedents."

"I am satisfied, and that is everything."

"Certainly; no offence, you know. You will be a rich man now, I suppose."

"What do you mean?"

"I presume the expensive establishment at Brompton is not kept up on nothing--your widow must have lots of money."

"I don't know and I don't care. I love the darling for herself. You have always had an unpleasant word to say about Caroline; I shall be sorry if my marriage is going to break up our friendship."

"What I said was intended for your good, Alfred, but if the die is cast I have finished. Shake hands, wed Mrs. Selby as soon as you like, and I wish you much happiness."

When you have a serious regard for a man, as I had for Drummond, it grieves you to the heart to see him commit an irreparable act of folly. I was quite confident that the widow was not all she represented herself to be, and that her present mode of life was to some extent enveloped in mystery. When there is so much secrecy, there is always something objectionable to hide. But you might as well try to turn the tide as endeavour to convince a lover that there are any imperfections in his sweetheart. The day for the marriage was at hand, and I was anything but reconciled to it. What business was it of mine? You see we were like brothers. Our friendship began at college, and became cemented when we both secured Government appointments in the same office. Although our natures were entirely different, Drummond's wayward, mine consistent, no two individuals could repose greater confidence in each other. It was not because his marriage would to some extent separate us that I objected to it. I may have many faults, but selfishness is not one of them. I made certain that my friend would be one of those rash individuals who "marry in haste to repent at leisure," and my surmises turned out to be only too correct.

He had reason to have dark forebodings himself. A letter she hid on his appearance and refused to show him caused him considerable uneasiness, and once he came suddenly upon her close to her house in deep conversation with a man, to whom she did not proffer to introduce him. He was so much under her influence at the time, she no doubt managed to explain these trifling matters to his entire satisfaction. The letter was probably a bill from her dressmaker, and the stranger her solicitor's clerk. When she was reported to be ill and confined to her room, I saw her in a box at the Haymarket Theatre, but this fact I kept to myself. They were married, and went to the Continent for the honeymoon, and on their return they took up their residence at the villa. His stay in this fool's paradise was but of short duration. They had only been settled down about three months, when he made the unpleasant discovery that he had married a living man's wife.

In his terrible trouble he came to me for advice. The man who represented himself as the real husband had threatened all manner of actions at law, but agreed to do nothing until twelve o'clock the following day. His story, plausible enough, was that, on going into the interior of the country at the Cape to trade, he had been captured by the natives, and been kept a prisoner for over two years. A friend who was with him--who succeeded in escaping--left him on the field for dead, and reported the decease of her husband to Mrs. Selby. On one condition I agreed to assist Drummond out of his difficulty, and that was, that he must separate at once from the lady. As he loved the woman to distraction, this was a hard blow; but he at once saw the propriety of complying with the stipulation, and the next day I kept the appointment with Mr. Selby instead of my friend.

The meeting was to take place at the villa. On arriving there a few minutes before the time arranged, I was met by Mrs. Selby, with her attire in disorder and dishevelled hair.

"Where is he? He has not been here since yesterday," she exclaimed, clutching hold of me and bursting into a flood of tears.

I tried to calm her, but it was of no use; she became quite hysterical and threw herself face downwards on the sofa. If that is not real, I thought, what a magnificent actress she would have made. On ringing the bell for her maid her real husband made his appearance. On seeing the condition of his wife he went up to the sofa and spoke kindly to her.

"Don't take it so much to heart, Caroline," he said, feelingly, "you had reasons to think me dead. I do not blame you." Turning to me he remarked, "I hope I have not kept you waiting. You are from Mr. Drummond, I presume; if you will step into another room we will talk over matters."

Before sitting down I had a good look at Mr. Selby, and I neither liked his manner nor appearance. I saw that I had an unscrupulous, perhaps clever rogue to deal with, and I became doubly cautious.

I began by saying what a strange affair it was, and asking him where he and Mrs. Selby were married. He was prepared for the question; he not only produced the marriage certificate, but also furnished me with the names and present abodes of the witnesses. When I made enquiry about the business in the City he at once gave me a card of the address; he was an exporter of fancy goods, whatever that may mean. Alluding incidentally to his altered appearance, he asked whether two years in the bush was not enough to pull any one down. Then we got to closer quarters.

"Well, Mr. Selby, it is a great misfortune to all parties. What do you propose to do?" I asked.

"I doated on my wife, and should like to take her back," he replied; "to prevent exposure, which I suppose would not suit your friend, I am willing to come to terms."

"As you are the lawful husband, I will undertake that Mr. Drummond relinquishes all his claims."

"But that will not be sufficient; he has done me a great injury and must compensate me for it."

"Your captivity has not bettered your fortunes, Mr. Selby."

"On the contrary, ruined me."

I saw that the whole affair resolved itself into a question of money, and it was imperative for my friend's sake that the matter should be hushed up. I wondered how it was that his wife was enabled to live in such good style in his absence, but said nothing. It was no good studying delicacy with a man like that. I said--

"How much do you want? You must remember that my friend is a comparatively poor man."

"A thousand pounds," was the startling answer.

"Quite preposterous", I replied; "my friend is not in a position to pay anything like this sum, and if he took my advice he would keep his money in his pocket. _He_, at all events, acted in good faith."

"I have not said a word against Mr. Drummond, but he has mortally injured me. He can think over my proposition, but to-morrow at the same hour I must have a decided answer," Mr. Selby remarked. "There is the address of my hotel. You can tell him that to clear myself I may have to prosecute my wife for bigamy, and that I can take the case into the Divorce Court."

When I got back I told Drummond what had taken place. I thought he would have gone mad when he heard that there was no doubt about Mr. Selby's identity. My poor infatuated friend had good prospects, and for certain reasons, very serviceable now, his marriage was only known to a few people. The difficulty we had to encounter was how to get rid of the demands of the injured husband. There was not much time to deliberate, Selby took care of that, and when once the peculiar case got wind it would fly to all parts of the town. A certain amount of money must be paid I could see, and at length we agreed to offer five hundred pounds. But how to get the sum; Drummond had not five hundred pence. His journey to Paris, the expenses at Brompton, to say nothing of the innumerable rich presents he had given Mrs. Selby, had swallowed up all his ready money. I had relations to look after, and was at no time flush of cash. But by the aid of an all-potent bill stamp we solved the problem, and I wended my way next morning to the appointment with five one hundred pound notes in my pocket.

"Look here, Mr. Selby," I said when I got to his hotel, "let us understand each other. I have come on behalf of my friend to make you a first and last offer; if you accept, the money is ready; if you refuse, you may institute what proceedings you please."

"What is the proposal?"

"That on your signing that paper, agreeing to take back your wife and cease all action against Mr. Drummond, I will pay you five hundred pounds."

A slight noise in the rokenbedroom adjoining the room we were sitting in attracted my attention at this moment. There was some one listening to our conversation, and now that the full particulars of the conspiracy are known, I have no doubt it was Mrs. Selby. The movement of the fire-irons was most likely a pre-concerted signal. He strongly objected to the smallness of the sum, and dwelt on the great wrong than had been done him, which was bound to embitter his whole life.

"Well, Mr. Selby," I said, rising and taking up my hat, "I can make no addition to my offer."

"It is so little; think of my awkward position. Mr. Drummond, a perfect stranger, parts me from my friends, banishes me from places where I am known, and compels me to change my name. And, worst of all, after what has passed, my wife can never be the same to me that she once was. Put yourself in my place and you would think yourself utterly ruined."

"It is certainly a dreadfully unfortunate occurrence, but my friend can do nothing more; the fact is that he had the greatest difficulty to procure this sum."

"No compensation will ever heal the wound, but for my wife's sake I will take the money."

* * * * *

To satisfy my curiosity, and oblige Drummond, I made a few enquiries at West Brompton later in the week, and learned that on the same day I paid the money the furniture of the villa was sold privately, and it was reported in the neighbourhood that, on account of ill-health, Mrs. Selby had gone abroad.

Poor Drummond kept his word--what acute suffering it cost him was known only to himself--and did not attempt to see his wife of three months again, but his separation from her was killing him.

To the great grief of all his friends he became careless in his habits, and took to drink. He was expostulated with time after time, but in vain. Nothing I could say would rouse him, and to all intents and purposes he seemed a lost man--a ship at sea without a rudder.

The bill on which I figured as the drawer had nearly run its course, and how it was to be met I had not the vaguest notion. There was no chance of a renewal. A proposition to that effect which I made the holder was rejected at once. Rumours as to my unfortunate friend's dissipated habits had got about, and people had no longer any confidence in him. It was well known that I had no private sources of income. With ruin staring me in the face you may rest assured I was not inclined to bless Mrs. Selby.

Brought up in a district where innumerable racehorses are reared and trained, it was natural that I should take an interest in the turf, but when I wanted them most to be fortunate my speculations all at once ceased to be remunerative. The Derby had upset all my calculations--a second-class animal found the course to his liking, and beat all the favourites--and I looked forward to Ascot to get back my money with interest. Still as my investments were necessarily of a trifling amount I had no idea of winning sufficient to take up the obnoxious bill which was due immediately after Ascot. It so happened that my annual holidays fell at Ascot time, and I made up my mind to a week's racing if the funds held out. If at all lucky I might get a hundred, and I thought that this sum would tempt the Jew to renew the bill. In another three months there was no telling what would happen. I saw that it was no good relying on Drummond to find the five hundred, or any portion of it, and he had made unsuccessful applications to all his relations. I was very sorry for him, but his friendship was likely to prove rather costly. The poor follow was a pitiful sight to see. Every hope of his life and his pride had been blasted by that woman, and inattention to his duties at last compelled him to resign his post.

I see him regularly once a year, but there is no improvement in his condition. On the contrary, the wreck is beginning to break up, and I fear that soon his place on earth will be vacant. An uncle allows him two pounds a week so long as he remains at Boulogne.

To "Royal Ascot," as it was called by the sporting prophets, I went, determined to do my best to defeat the layers of odds. A careful study of the programme made me fancy I could name a few winners.

Entering the course on Hunt Cup day, I was addressed by a miserable looking object, who informed me that he was the brother of a famous jockey. He knew, he said, a certainty for the principal race. Not believing for a moment that he had any reliable information, I threw the half-starved wretch a shilling, and was walking away when he ran after me and gave me a scrap of paper.

In a popular play, derived of course from French sources, it is seen of what great importance a few words of writing may become. The strip of paper handed to me by the Newmarket tout, and which I carelessly put into my waistcoat pocket without reading it, was destined to save me from a grave difficulty; and dirty as it is, it will always have a prominent place in my album.

Over the previous events I had varying luck, and when the numbers went up for the prettiest race of the year, I had won altogether twenty-five pounds, so I resolved to give myself a chance.

There was a large field, and long prices were offered against many of the competitors. A man had only to know the winner to realize a fortune for a ridiculously small outlay.

The favourites I discarded, as I had seen too many "certainties" settled coming up the stiff ascent. I had taken stock of most of the horses before they cantered, and was trying to get a hint from the betting, when I recollected the neglected "tip" in my pocket.

On the soiled paper was scrawled with a pencil, "The winner of the Hunt Cup is Jasper! Back him, and send a trifle out of your winnings to R. F., Black Bull Inn, Newmarket."

I had seen and liked the form and condition of Baron Rothschild's horse. He looked admirably adapted to ascend the hill, as his hind legs were well placed under him; and considering his performances, he was not over-burdened with weight. There were many more unlikely candidates, and finding that all the sporting Solons, excepting one who wrote under the odd name of "Disgue," had not a favourable word to say about Jasper, and in the absence of other authentic intelligence, I pinned my faith to the selection of the Newmarket tout.

"How much Jasper?" I asked a prominent member of the ring.

"Hundred to three," was the answer.

"Put it down seven times," I said, and I handed the bookmaker twenty-one pounds.

If the horse lost I would still be the winner of four pounds on the day, and there were other races to speculate on. I was not kept long in suspense. A bell announced that the starter had got rid of his eager and troublesome customers. Anxious eyes watched the struggle.

"The favourite's beat," was soon proclaimed, and several gentlemen shouted, "Steel, Nicholls, what against Jasper?"

As they neared the Grand Stand a terrific shout told me--for I was so hemmed in I could not see the race--that Jasper was winning in a canter.

Lucky shilling!

My seven hundred pounds was paid immediately after the jockey weighed in, and I increased my winnings to a thousand before the last race was run on Friday. With this piece of good luck my difficulties were happily at an end. When the bill was presented it was duly honoured, but to his credit it must be stated that Drummond never rested until he got a relation to refund me the money. It need scarcely be put on record here that the brother of the famous jockey had occasion to rejoice at the success of Jasper.

* * * * *

A trial at the Old Bailey in the following November showed the public that Mr. and Mrs. Selby were nothing but a couple of swindlers who went about preying on unsuspecting men like my unfortunate friend, Drummond.

The Silver Gauntlet.

A STORY OF THE TURF.

_In Four Chapters._