Our Serial Story.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2634, 16 October 1909, Page 9 (Supplement)

Our Serial Story.

“T jhe Jew’s Mouse/’ B>y Hnms.

Author of the “'Mystery of a Hansom Cab, ” “ The Yellow Holly, ” “ The Mandarin’s Fan, ” “ The Scaled Message, ” etc., etc., etc. (All Rights Reserved)

CHAPTER VII

BEN-KZRA. After the Jew was committed for "trial, the excitement to a great extent died away, and Bruntlea again became quiet. Ben-Exra asked for bail, but, under the circumstances, this naturally could not be granted. He then sent for Jacob Kioafca, a German Jew, who usually acted for him when he could not attend to certain matters himself, and arranged that the man should look after his somewhat complicated business while lie was in gaol. Also, he sent for a lawyer and made his will, so that •everything should be ship-shape in the event of his being condemned to death. Finally, he had an interview with a smart London solicitor regarding his defence and the engagement of counsel. •Having thus done all that was possible to alleviate the difficulties of his position, Ben-Ezra resigned himself to waiting for the time of Ins trial at the New 4? Bailey.

Of course,, the evidence given before the magistrate, which was duly published in the London journals, made everyone more certain than ever that the Jew was guilty, and his defence was regarded as a clever attempt to escape from the inevitable. The general opinion was that Ben-Ezra, hearing the smashing of the window, had run back to the drawing-room, and, snatching up the revolver, had fired on the man, who tad returned to threaten him again. ;No one took into account Verity's idea that Ben-Ezra might have thought that the intruder was a burgler, or—’if the .Jew recognised Sir Giles—that the baronet was attempting a species of blackmail. General opinion was in furor of the dead man, and had the murder taken place in the United States it ' is probable that Ben-Ezra would have 'been lynched. The tide of popular opinion ran strongly against him; Wain was thus alone in his belief of the Jew’s innocence, and not finding ■anyone to agree with him, he held his peace. The editor of the . "Midnight Sun,” considering that the murder had •advertised Bruntlea sufficiently, recalled Wain to London for other duties iconnected with the paper, and it seam-

red —Wain once removed—that BenEzra would bo without a single friend -to stand by him in his day of adversity. Had Wain been an ordinary Christian !he might have loft the Jew to work .out his destiny, which seemed to lead ito tho scaffold. But, as a Theosophist, if ho reporter was strongly impressed with tho idea that nothing happened by chance, and conceived that he had been brought purposely into Ben-Ezra’s .life for the purpose of rendering him all -the assistance that was possible. Of .course, for tho sake of his broad and Ilmtter, since he was a poor man, he had to obey the summons of the editor who employed his pen. But before leav-

;iiig Bruntlea, he paid a visit to the prison .and obtained permission to privately converse with the unfortunate .man. Ho found Ben-Ezra calm anti hopeful, and not so surprised by the visit a 3 he might have been. “I cast my tn-ead upon the waters,” ! said the Jew, when AYain shook hands and explained the reason of his sympathetic visit, “and it returned to me -after-many days in the shape of a kind .heart.” ■“I don’t know what you mean,” remarked "Wain, somewhat astonished. “I don’t think we ever met before I saw you in the Tanbuek Hall drawing-room, "in fact, you said yourself that you had .never set eyes on me.”

“Quite so; you would think so, and -rightly,”' answered' Ben-Ezra, and sat ..down on his bod, while his visitor took ■possession of a chair which a warder had brought: “but I can explain later. But before doing so, I should like to .know why you take such an interest in rue. You didn’t murder Sir Giles yourself, I presume, so it cannot be re-

• morse.” Wain laughed. “Dawkins can assure you of my innocence,” said lie, with a . quiet smile. “I simply came because, on turning the evidence over in my mind, I believe you to be guiltless.” “Even if I am,” said Ben-Ezra, eyeing the reporter steadily, “why should you trouble to help a Jew?” “Jew;, or Gentile, heathen or Christian, they are all one to me, Mr. BenEzra. I hold certain beliefs” —here Wain explained shortly what he ex- : actly meant. “So you see,” he cried, >._“the circumstances that have brought ■ ns together are so out of the ordinary - that I feel sure I have to render you

all the assistance in my power. Bon-Ezra seemed somewhat astomsh- , ed. “And your reward?” “I don’t do anything for reward, said Wain, shortly. “Then you won’t succeed in this world.” “I haven’t, Mr. Ben-Ezra. Ao'u see before you a rolling stone that has gathered no moss. If you are a son of Jacob, I am a child of Esau, the wild man, and you can regard me as a civilised Bedouin.”

“You have travelled much?” “All over the world. I ran away from school to go to sea, and have been a sailor, soldier, cattle-driver, goldseeker, and scribe. One day I have been rich, another day I have been

“Because I am the proprietor, and when your name was brought under inv notice by the editor I told him to engage you at once.” “Why I am a complete stranger to

poor, and I haven’t get a single person who carts whether I live or die. I considered myself extremely lucky being taken on to the staff of the kvliclnight (dun.’ when I returned from South America six months ago—and without references, too.”

“So you have no one to care for you/’ said the Jew, softly, fixing his fill], dart eyes on the tanned, militarylooking face of the reporter; “you are something like me, Mr. Wain. I have

not even known a mother’s love, since my mother died in Tunis when I was two years of age. You have keen more fortunate in that way.” Wain’s brown cheek flushed. “What do you* mean ?” he asked, haughtily. “I came to ask you questions so that I can help. I am not here to answer any.” “J have none, Mr. Wain. But your mother-—” “"What do you know of my mother P’ 1 Ben-F.zra replied by asking another question. “Did you over wonder why you were so promptly engaged by the editor of the ‘Midnight Sun?’ ” “I wondered a few moments ago,” retorted Wain, shrugging; “well, why was it?”

you/' “In that case, why do you offer to help me?” asked the Jew, promptly. “I have told you my beliefs; but as you have not my way of looking at tilings, i can’t conceive why you gave mo a situation.” ”1 knew your mother.” Wain stared. “You-—know —mj’ — mother?” Wain stared, wonderingly. “Yes. She Tiad a small house at Hampstead and a small annuity. Correct me if I am wrong.” ‘•'No, no!” muttered Wain, still ■staring; “that is so, go on.” “To help a relative she mortgaged her cottage. The relative left her rn the lurch, as relatives, from my experience, do. Y'our mother was in danger of losing her cottage, as she could not pay. In despair she wrote to a moneylender, and obtained the money. The money-lender called to see Mrs. Wain, and found her so sympathetic and honorable a lady that he made things as easy for her as possible. He paid oIE the mortgage and took over the cottage as security for the loan at a small rental. Bub having occasion to frequently visit Mrs. Wain, he became so intimate with her, and found lior so free from all prejudice, and so soothing to his lonely soul, that he freed her from the obligation and made her a free gift of the cottage. She died, and her annuity died with her, but the land and the house went to her son, who was then in Turkey. Is that a true story ?” Wain nodded,' almost too agitated to speak. “My mother wrote to me and told me of the kind friend she had found. And you were the money-lend-er?”

Ben-Ezra nodded in liis turn. “I was the money-lender. Strange, is it not, that a grasping Jew, with such a reputation as I have, should act in such a weak way?”

The reporter made no comment on tliis speech, but put out his hand, which was taken by Bon-Ezra. “And because of.your friendship for my mother, you gave me the situation on the ‘Midnight Sun?’ ” “Yes. I never forget a name, and your Christian name happens to be a curious one. But you see now,” said Bon-Ezra, rising to pace the narrow limits of his ced, “why I talked about bread upon tlie waters returning. I aided your mother, and now you offer

to aid me.” “Why did ycm aid her?” “'Why do you offer to aid me?” asked the Jew’ quickly; “there may be something true in your belief, after all, Mr. Wain. I may have owed your mother a debt in a former life which I had to repay. You may owe me one, •which makes you anxious to help me, who am a stranger to you. “You are not a stranger now,” said Wain, with emotion. “Now that I know what you did for my mother, I am bound to help you.” “Ah, but I have supplied the reason,” argued Ben-Ezra* “and I do not forget that you were willing to help befoie you knew the reason. Also, you defended me in the drawing-room, when Dawkins insulted me.” “I don’t like seeing a man kicked when he is down!” said Wain, deggedI - r„n

“You differ from your fellow Christians, then,” said the Jew, cynically ; “at the present moment I am down, and everyone is kicking me.’ “I am not a Christian, although I follow Christ,” returned Wain; “the word has become polarised into meaning something different to what it meant in the days of the early church. However there is one thing to be said. There was no reason for you to give my mother the free gift of the cottage. It is now in my possession, and you shall lia\ e it again.” “Ah!” Ben-Ezra sat down again and rested his chin on his hand. “You would throw one of my few good deeds in my face.”

‘•"We!!, no; not exactly; but I want to be fair. Besides, according to Verily, yon have done many good deeds.” *

“And many bad ones al.;o. Rare yon not heard of the people I hare so.cl

up, of the harshness of which I have treated mv enemies?”

“Because they were your enemies. Mr. Verily explained how closely you followed the Mosaic code of vengeance.” ‘■Being a Jew what other code do yon expect me to follow? But do the Christians do otherwise? Those they lcve they help, if it suits their purpose ; those they hate they do as much harm to as in their power lies. And yet they pretend to follow One who said, •Love your enemies, 'and do good to them that hate you. 1 I. at least, am consistent. But time passes.” Ben-Ezra impatiently brushed the air with his right hand. “We have discussed these vague subjects long enough. Ycu know that I am not so black as I am painted, and I have learned that there exists in your person one who is willing to help the unfortunate without sake of reward. Tltfe position thus becomes adjusted, let us come to business.” “To business,” echoed Wain, with a shiver, for it sounded gruesome to hear the man apply so commonplace a term to details of his dangerous position. “You think that I shall be hanged?” demanded Ben-Ezra abruptly. “I sincerely trust not, but the evidence —”

“Is strongly against me. Quite so. I don’t think dither judge or jury will have much difficulty in deciding the matter against me. But I don’t intend to hang, Mr. Wain.” “How can you prevent that happening?” “By learning who really shot Sir Giles Dove.” “Have you any idea?” “Not in the least. But I have money—any amount of money—and I purpose to use it in order to learn which of my enemies laid this trap.” “One moment,” said Wain quickly, “do you really think a trap was laid, or do you believe —as you stated in Court —that the assassin really meant to kill you?”

Uen-Ezra began to walk. “I have asked myself that question severe 1 times,” lie said, easnestly, ‘‘and ’ ean’t answer it positively.”

“Do you believe that Sir Giles broke the window?”

“Xo. Had lie done so lie would have gained, possession of tlie revolver, and as we know he did not shoot himself, tlie idea is impossible. It is my belief that a third person —” ‘What name ?”

Ben-Erza shrugged his lean shoulders. “You ask riddles/’ he said quietly; “did I know the name, I should be rescued from the dangerous position in which I now stand. But this person evidently watched at the window, and perhaps overheard the interview between myself and Sir Giles. When the old man went away, tins person broke the window, having espied the revolver on the side-table, and secured possession of it. Then the person went outside-, perhaps thinking that the breaking, glass would lure me into the room to be shot.. However, I did not hear the- smash, being too far away. Sir Giles came- back, and the person shot him.” “But why 2”'

“I should have to know the name and the circumstances of the assassin before answering that question.. Still, I believe;, —this is pure theory, mind you, Mr. Wain—that the person had a grudge against me.. Failing to shoot me, this individual shoot Sir Giles, knowing that the crime would be laid at my door, as it certainly has been. The assassin’s aim was to kill me at sight, or to have me legally hanged. You understand

Wa.iii nodded. “You said all this before. But how are wo to set about finding out the truth?" \ Ben-Ezra thought for a few minutes. “I believe in the great value of tune, Mr. Wain,” he said, after a pause. “Just now, and fqv the next week, I shall do. nothing, trusting to time to bring the truth to light.’’ “Nothing may happen.’’

“Quite so, and on tlie contrary much may happen. I can see nothing ahead myself, but I am going to wait. For the rest, I shall argue the case with my solicitor, and talk it over with the barrister who is to defend me. Meanwhile, I wish to spread about, in a judicious manner, the fact that, could 1 escape from my dangerous position I would ho willing to sell Tanbuck Hall.”

“But wliat good will that do?” “I have an idea. Never -mind what my idea is. But tell a few gossips, men or women, confidentially, that you have reasons to believe I would do as I say. Then we can wait for the result.” “But I don’t understand —” “I know you don’t’,’ interrupted Ben-Ezra, impatiently. “But do as T say. In this way, at least, you can help me.”

“Wain promised, although he could not see what good would came of such a report being made. Ben-Ezra’s refusal to sell Tanbuck Hall had led to the death of Sir Giles and to his own arrest. His willingness to sell might result in bis acquittal, even though it could not restore the dead to life. But how this could be brought about W ain failed to see. And the more he thought about it the more inexplicable did BenEzra's request become. However, he could but obey since he had promised to render assistance. “Another thing you might do,” said the Jew, breaking the silence, “is to ask Judith Verily to persuade Ashton to defend me. He is a barrister, and I have instructed my solicitor to engage him. He will get his first brief,” said the Jew, smiling cynically, “to save the life of a man he hates.”

Wain stared. “Judith asked me to get young Asktcn to save your life.' - ’ “Did she?’ ; said the- Jew, his eyes growing softer, and his mouth relaxing: “on what grounds?” “On very eld ones. Mr. Ben-Ezra/ said Wain, slowly, and recalling the enact words spoken by the g:rl. “What she said was this, ‘Get Lancelot to save Mr. Jjen-Esra's life: he hates him so much that he must/ ”

“.strange,” muttered the Jew, nurs iiig liis chin, ,; mj idea exactly.” “But if young Ashton hates yen,” argued Wain, “he won't try to save your life. That is apparent on the face of it.” "I daresay. But Ashton is ambitious.' and if he is leading counsel in a sensational case like this, lie will make his name and be dragged out cf the poverty he hates. As mv counsel, he will professionally, have to do h:s best, lie will climb into fame on niy shoulders. You understand Wain tried to. “You mean that as he believes you have ruined his family ha will, by defending you, regain his proper position. “Yes. 1 mean that and something more Ilian that. Never mind what it is. Tell Judith to persuade him, for the young fool may refuse.” The reporter looked hard at the Jew. He was an acute reader of character, yet there was much about Ben-Ezra which ho did net understand. The man standing in the shade of the gallows seemed to bo playing a comedy, the details of which were secret. At all events, Wain could not see them. “You puzzle me, Mr. Ben-Ezra.” “I quite believe it. I puzzle most people. But you must go now, and I thank you for coming to see me in my misery. You will not lose by it, I assure you. Do you remember the Day of Dupes?” asked the Jew, suddenly.

Wain nodded. “In Richelieu’s time, the courtiers of Louis XIII. thought the cardinal was disgraced for ever, and ho turned the tables on them by regaining his power. Why do you mention that?”'

Beu-Ezra tapped Wain on the breast. “I shall also have my Uav of Dupes,” he said, slowly, and chuckling; '“then we shall see what we shall see.” “You jmxzle me,” said Wain again; and, indeed, the man did extremely. Ben-Ezra chuckled again, then asked all rial, and—to Wain—a still more startling question. •'Have you heard anything about your wife?”

“What! Great heavens! Confound it! What—wlrnfe?” “What do I know about your wife? Nothing but wliat your mother told me. You married the daughter oi an old c-ea captain, over 20 years ago. After a year your wife ran away with someone else, and set you wandering again. Hare you heard anything of her?” “No,” said Wain, somewhat sullenly, for he was beginning to resent BenEzra’s knowledge of his private affairs, as well as his mention of them; “do you?”' “How should I know anything?” asked the lew impenetrably. “You. seem to know so much about what doesn’t, concern you.” “That’s my business,” said Ben Ezra, coolly; “pardon me if I return your kindness by appearing to,bo inquisitive. All I wish is to know your true position, so as to help you when I am tree.”

“Will you ever bo free?” “I think.so.. I am innocent.” “Many an innocent man has been hanged.”' “I daresay ;:bufc I don’t propose to be added to the::number. Time and money and the certain: amount of brain which 1 possess .may,-save me from such a fate. I ask your pardon for referring to your wife —a painful subject.” “llen-Ezra,” said Wain unexpectedly, “you do know something about my wife.'”' “No, really... I have explained why I asked.. Wain strove-to read that dark countenance, but could gather nothing from its blankness. Ben-Ezra was an admirable person to; conceal that which ne did not want to be known. Wain feit convinced that, he knew more than he said, but since the Jew refused to be open he could learn nothing. He left the cell, repeating for the third time his bewilderment in words: “You puzzle me!” And the more lie thought over the interview, the more puzzled he became.

Customer ('glaring at him): I find a piece of ham in this apple pie ? Clerk (at the lunch counter loftily): Yes, sir. If you wish something that hasn’t got- any ham in it. sir, I can recommend ham sandwiches, sir. WHAT U.YERY HUSBAND KNOWS.. That it. isn’t safe for him to invite any old college chum home to dinner without sparring for time and the privilege a week or so ahead. That is is wonderful how even the simplest gown has an advance in price, compared with what it was last summer.

That it isn’t safe to mention even in a whisper, ■fcln* -al'fcogG'tlicr desii able aiui place he has selected on nis own account to have the family go this summer. That it only takes one to make a quarrel. . . , . That the clay is coming when he wni rise up in his might and assert himself, not suddenly and undignified, but calmly and permanently. 'That the household expenses could easilv be cut in half if he had only the time' to put his gigantic intellect and business experience upon them. That one and one make four or bve. That there- is always one room m the house that simply cannot wait any longer to be decorated. That the- “little affair” m which a “few friends” are to be invited means in the end about two weeks’ hard work, a house full of people, and an expenditure of several pounds. That his own ideas about disciplining children are always! too radical to be carried out. , , , r That every body gets the best ot father,