Chapter IV: Part 4

The crowd itself had no clear notion of the cause of its coming together. For in order to produce a crowd it is by no means necessary that the individuals who are to compose it should have any reason for their assembling more definite than the fact that there is an assembly.

Primarily, however, it was Esther who was the cause of the crowd.

Esther, who you must know is my sister, had been growing quite prosperous. After a year or so of hard and unremunerative work, Esther had gained a position on the staff of a leading ladies' newspaper; and thereafter, week by week, Esther produced pictures of attenuated ladies with crooked forefingers, attired in the height of fashion, and pretending that their waists did not hurt them the least bit.

So, finding herself with an assured income which, if not large, was adequate to her modest needs, Esther determined to quit her dingy lodgings in a Bloomsbury side-street and furnish a dwelling for herself. In this project she was encouraged by her bosom friend Susie, who, being a certificated nurse with a private practice, wanted a comfortable home in the intervals between her cases, and was willing to contribute some furniture and a share of the expenses.

After much search among the advertisements in the newspapers in the Free Library, followed by hurried rushes on her bicycle to the uttermost ends of London, Esther found a house in Lower Phillimore Place of which two floors and the basement were to be let unfurnished. It was precisely the sort of place the two girls wanted, and as the rent was reasonable Esther at once arranged to take it. Esther was to occupy the ground floor, the first floor would be reserved for Susie whenever she required it; in the basement a respectable woman would live, and cook, and sleep. Esther began to look about for the respectable woman.

It was only then that Esther suddenly bethought herself of the extreme danger of sleeping--a solitary and unprotected woman--upon the ground-floor of a London house. For an hour or so the difficulty seemed insurmountable, and it appeared to Esther that she must cancel the agreement. I suggested a dog. But, as Esther at once pointed out, a determined and unscrupulous murderer would not hesitate to poison a dog.

Then I proposed that a respectable married couple should be engaged. Probably, in consideration of living rent free, the woman would do the housework during the day, and the husband would kill murderers at night. Esther considered a moment. The idea appealed to her.

"Why not a policeman and his wife?" said Esther.

With Esther to decide is to act. Within an hour she had laid her scheme before the Inspector in charge at the Police Station by St. Mary Abbott's, and enjoined upon him to search his division for a married constable of lofty character who would like to live rent free in a dry and roomy basement. Within twenty-four hours the constable was found.

Esther viewed him with approval, for he was large and serious; he had the highest of characters, and had married a cook from De Vere Gardens who had received a plated teapot from her late mistress as a mark of esteem. They both assured Esther that they would do their best by her and the other young lady, and an appointment was made for a view of the house in Phillimore Place.

And so it came about that, one evening, just as dusk was falling, Esther and Susie met the constable and his wife outside the house, and, after greeting each other on the pavement, entered together. At that moment an errand-boy was slowly propelling a carrier tricycle along by the kerb. His day's deliveries were accomplished, and, as he looked this way and that way with a mind receptive of stray impressions, his eye fell upon Esther and her companions. He was immediately conscious of something unusual.

There is nothing remarkable about a policeman in Kensington High Street; but a policeman being conducted into a house by a young lady, and closely followed by two other women, one of whom wears a nurse's uniform, affords matter for conjecture. The errand-boy applied the brake to his cycle, and came slowly to a standstill just below the house, at which he looked thoughtfully. Esther with the constable and the nurse and the constable's wife had disappeared through the front door, and for a minute or so nothing more happened.

The boy, disappointed of his expected sensation, was just bending forward to start his cycle again when he caught sight of an acquaintance who was carrying a basket containing a dozen of stout. A shrill whistle brought him to the side of the cycle.

"Wotcher!" he said.

"There's a copper gone in there," said the boy on the cycle, nodding towards the house. "And a 'orspital nurse."

The other boy regarded the house critically.

"Was there a accident?" he asked.

The boy on the cycle, having no more information to give, said nothing, but nodded again towards the house. Someone within had struck a light, and the constable could be plainly seen standing in the middle of the empty ground-floor room.

A hansom driver, crawling from the westwards in the hope of picking up a fare to the Strand, paused in the act of lighting his pipe and pulled up just in front of the cycle. A servant girl who had been sent out to post a letter noticed an errand boy set down his basket upon the ground and balance himself upon the rim, whereby he was enabled to peer over the top of the railings, and she stood still to watch him; while three sandwich men mournfully advertising a concert at the Town Hall halted in the roadway and looked with dull curiosity at the cabman, who had hitched himself round on his seat, and with one leg swinging in mid-air was wondering what he could charge for a really urgent case to St. George's Hospital.

"What's matter?" asked a homeward-bound workman who was vaguely conscious of an unusual obstruction, and found the railings a convenient support.

"Ain't nothing the matter," said the boy on the basket, looking round. "You tike that fice 'ome."

The workman, finding it easier to stand still by the railings than to walk, remained where he was.

"I stops where I am," he murmured; "see what's matter. All kinds things happen in mighty metrolo--metrolopus."

The old gentleman who takes the air every evening along a beat of a hundred yards or so of pavement in Phillimore Place halted and looked inquiringly at the boy on the basket, disgustedly at the workman clinging to the railings. Then, over the shoulder of the workman the old gentleman caught sight of the policeman, who was now standing in full light back to the window; while Susie, bending down with tape-measure to calculate the amount of carpet required, could be dimly seen by those outside to be busied with something on the floor.

"Dear me!" said the old gentleman.

"There's--body in there," said the workman. "That's what 'tis. Body."

"Bless my soul!" said the old gentleman, looking round at the group of people on the pavement. "Has there been a murder? Does anyone know?"

No one cared to admit that he did not know what he was looking at, whereas any positive statement might be controverted by someone with knowledge. So no one answered, but all stood watching.

By this time the pavement was pretty well blocked, and wayfarers had either to take to the roadway or to join the knot of people collected in front of the railings and waiting anxiously upon events.

Most of them chose the latter course, assuring each other that there was really nothing to wait for.

"Oh, there's a 'orse down; let's go and look, Alf," said a young woman to her husband, who was carrying something tasty for supper in a piece of newspaper.

"Oh, _kem_ on," said Alf. "You're always wanting to 'ang about for this, that, and the other."

"Well, I'm sure, Alf, it's little enough excitement _I_ get, day in, day out, and--oh, wait a minute; I needn't _reely_ wash biby to-night."

"'Taint a 'orse," said a seedy-looking man, whose height gave him a view over the heads of the crowd. "It's in that house, that's where it is."

"_What_ is?" asked Alf, still incredulous.

"Oh, there's a pleeceman in there, Alf," said the young woman, delightedly.

"Then there ain't much the matter," said Alf, his good temper restored by the consciousness of a ready wit. "They're 'andy enough when they ain't wanted to be, and when they _are_ wanted----" He sought vainly for a means of elaborating his joke. "Now then, where yer shovin'?"

"Shovin' yerself," was the reply; "don't other people want to see same as what you do?"

For the crowd had already begun to press behind, and, stretching nearly across the roadway, was impeding the traffic. One omnibus, indeed, which had stopped to set down a passenger, remained standing, and the inside passengers had crowded out upon the roof to see what was the matter. From the shops opposite came the assistants, and they stood in the doorways, asking in vain for explanations, which no one could give. Conjecture, however, was frequent; and a butcher's bookkeeper, being a man of action, went off to rouse the nearest fire station.

In a minute more, the nucleus formed by one errand boy on a carrier cycle had collected about it a solid mass, which completely stopped the omnibuses and cabs, and gathered volume and consistency from every wayfarer who came within its influence. Even the errand boy himself, impressed with the seriousness of the situation, was convinced of the nearness of tragedy, and was busily setting forth to those around him what he had seen.

"Stand back, can't you?" cried an officious man upon the outskirts of the crowd on the opposite pavement. "How ridiculously people do act in an emergency! What's the use of crowding round?"

His neighbours looked resentfully at him.

"Stand back, can't you; stand back and give her air."

"Give _'oo_ air? You keep your'n on," said an on-looker, elbowing him back.

"Why, it's a girl, isn't it? At least, they told me so," said the officious man. "Why _do_ people push so? There's absolutely nothing to get excited about."

"Girl, I dessay. But she's in that house over there."

"Most extraordinary thing," said a tradesman, who was standing in his doorway. "That house is unoccupied. Been empty for three weeks or more."

"And they've only just found the poor girl inside," exclaimed the officious man. "Well, of all the useless, incompetent people in the world, I really do think the London police bear away the palm. And why on earth don't they keep the crowd away? Where _are_ the police? Here, someone go and call a constable."

No one showed any desire to resign his point of view; and the cabs going town-wards in a hurry turned down a side street to save time.

"'Ear that, Emmer?" said a woman in a shawl, who was standing in a group of dishevelled companions. "The poor gal's been lyin' in that empty 'ouse for three weeks; ain't it a shime?"

"Ah, it's jest like 'em," said another, vaguely.

"Well, I ain't what yer might call soft-'earted," said the first, "but think of me livin' 'andy all that time, and the pore girl----"

"Yes, you can lay and rot for all _they_ care," said the other. "I might die in me bed time and time again, and no one any the wiser. Not but what I've got any right to becall you, Mrs. Robins. Think she's dead?"

"Dead? No. Can't you see the 'orspital nurse stoopin' down over 'er? They wouldn't 'a 'ad a 'orspital nurse if she was dead."

Just then the door of the house opened, and the crowd swayed excitedly as Susie appeared with the constable, and stood for a moment in surprise on the top step.

"Where's the ambulance," cried the officious man. "Why don't they send for the ambulance? What _is_ the good of the police if they can't----"

"Now then, what's all this? Pass along, please, pass along."

Five or six policemen appeared simultaneously from different directions.

"Over there, in that house. That's where it is," cried several voices.

"Stand back there! let the police through!" cried others.

The constables pushed their way through the throng to the point where Susie and the policeman were standing, and the crowd stood in intense silence while a hurried consultation took place. A moment or two later Esther and Susie entered the hansom, which was still waiting in the hope of a case for St. George's, and drove off through the passage cleared by the police.

"Now then, pass along 'ere, _pass_ along," said the police. "There ain't nothing to look at 'ere."

"Well, but aren't you going to bring the girl out?" asked the officious man of a constable.

"Pass along, if _you_ please."

"What _is_ the good of making such a mystery of it?" said the officious man. "That's the way half the crimes go undetected. I daresay it's all simple enough if the truth were known. I maintain the public has a right to be taken into the confidence of the authorities."

"'Ushing of it up," said the woman in a shawl. "'Ushing of it up."

"And I dessay they're well paid to do it," said her companion.

"Well, that's another added to the unsolved mysteries of London," said the respectable-looking working-man, addressing his neighbours, "but it's another nail in the coffin of----"

"Now then, your supper's gettin' cold," said the constable.

STRANGE KINDS OF MONEY.

BY ROBERT MACHRAY.

There seems to be scarcely any nation or tribe, no matter how savage and barbarous, but has a money, or some kind of currency equivalent to money, with which it discharges its debts and pays for the articles it requires or covets.

Many of the specimens shown in the illustrations accompanying this article of moneys "current with the merchant" will seem strange enough, but it must be remembered that it was from the use of just such objects long ago that the highly developed monetary systems of the Western world have come.

Amongst the most civilised races gold and silver coin, or "bank-notes," secured by deposits of gold and silver or by Government guarantees, are the recognised media of exchange. Modern coinages exhibit many specimens of beautiful and artistic moneys, and the notes--bills, as they are called in America--issued by the Bank of England, the French, United States, and other Governments, are, if not exactly artistic, wonderfully ingenious devices for baffling the skill of the forger. But in savage countries the forger has no place, for the moneys there in use could not possibly be counterfeited.

Amongst the commonest of all currencies is the shell, and at the present time it is quite extensively used in various parts of the world--in Africa, in the Pacific, and in parts of Asia. In Africa, the Shell-Money is the cowry, and it is customary for the natives to adorn their gods, fetiches, and other objects of veneration with ropes of these shells. In British Columbia, Haikwa shells were used as money.

One of our illustrations shows the form shell-money takes in the Solomon Islands, the shells being strung in ropes a fathom long. Another picture shows a satchel belonging to a native of New Caledonia with a quantity of shell-money in it. Sometimes the shells used are of quite a large size; at other times again they are exceedingly minute. Their value appears to depend on their colour and shape, the most valuable being those which were most suitable for the adornment of the person.

The next group of currencies is of a somewhat different class. In this case feathers take the place of shells, and three examples are given of this Feather Currency. In one example we see a specimen of what is known as the Red Feather Currency. Over a band of vegetable fibre is woven a material composed of red parrot feathers, held in place by two boards placed in the middle above and below the band; the whole was carried in a bag.

In another instance, the feathers are arranged to form something like a brush, the brush itself being made of the coloured tufts or portions of birds' plumage, while the handle is composed of strands of plaited grass. This sort of money was obtained in rather a cruel way, for the birds who were despoiled of their brilliant feathers were not killed before the operation; their bright plumage was plucked from their living bodies, and then the birds were allowed to fly away again. No doubt in the course of time the feathers grew again, when the birds would be caught and the operation performed once more.

The particular home of the feather currency was the Sandwich Islands, the natives of which made gorgeous robes and helmets for their chiefs and kings out of these much-prized feathers. A third example is of what is known as Flying-Fox-Money. The fur of the flying-fox is made into cords, as shown in the illustration, and is very good "money" indeed in the Loyalty Islands.

One of the most elementary forms of currency is Adze-Money, and the specimen selected for presentation here comes from these same Loyalty Islands. This adze blade is of jade, and I am told that it represents "the price of a fat man for cannibal purposes."

How enormously valuable such adzes as these are is shown by a statement that any native who becomes possessed of one is regarded by his fellows as a millionaire, and in a certain tribe which possessed but one such adze the coveted object was passed at the end of each week from one native to another. Its lucky possessor for the time being was regarded as the richest man in the world by all the others, who waited impatiently to become in their turn millionaires "for one week only."

Amongst other queer kinds of money in use in the South Seas may be mentioned the "Tabua" or whale's tooth of Fiji; the Mat-Money--small mats made of grass, curiously woven in quaint patterns, current in various parts of Melanesia (a somewhat similar currency is to be found amongst the Thlinket Indians of Alaska); and rings of quartzite, of which an illustration, taken from a specimen from the New Hebrides, is given above.

It may be noticed that there is much of the artistic about these Pacific Islands moneys; those current in Africa do not exhibit any characteristic of the kind; they are simply barbaric. Here, for instance, is a rough ingot of copper of cruciform shape, which was used as money in East Central Africa, and represents what would be equivalent to a very heavy balance at an English bank account.

Implements of iron, such as iron spades and the heads of hoes, and so on, were widely circulated as valuable consideration for the purchase of ivory, and ivory itself was, and still is, one of the most valuable of African currencies. From the spade to the spear is but a step, so we need not be surprised to find that the shaped spear-head is equal to a great many pounds sterling on the higher waters of the Congo.

Another form of African money is the armlet or bangle made of metal--bronze most commonly, silver sometimes, gold very rarely; and these are classed under the head of what is known as Ring-Money or "Manillas." However, it must be said that the use of bracelets and bangles as currency was quite common in ancient times before the invention of stamped or coined money.

Everyone is probably aware that beads have played a large part as a currency when Western merchants have been trading with savage tribes; but few people, I imagine, can have any idea how Bead-Money was systematised by Englishmen in their dealings with the natives of Africa. What I am about to say seems beyond belief, but yet it is true. There was one sort of beads used for the purchase of palm oil, a second for ivory, a third for gold, and a fourth for slaves.

Our illustrations on p. 644 show the different shapes and sizes of these beads, which were made in London, but they do not exhibit the colours, which were an important feature. These bright and shining baubles tickled the savage fancy, and the same love of bright objects has been already noticed with respect to shell-money.

One of the quaintest of all currencies is that known as the Fishhook-Money, which can hardly be said to have even yet died out of use along the shores of the Persian Gulf. It is supposed that these Larins, as they are termed, originally came from Ceylon, and they consist of thin pieces of silver bent into the shape of a hook about an inch in length. In some cases copper is used instead of silver, but each piece is stamped with its value.

The great merchants of the East are the Chinese, and the different forms of money they have brought into use do not strike us as being particularly convenient. The commonest of all Chinese moneys is the _cash_--a round metal disc with a square hole in the middle, the value of a thousand _cash_ not being much more than three shillings. These _cash_ are carried about in long strings, and the hole in the middle receives the string. This form of currency is developed from what is generally termed "key-money" or "knife-money."

Silver is the great medium of exchange in China and elsewhere in the East; and a regular feature of all cities and towns and even villages in China is the money-changer, who in return for so much weight of silver will hand out so many strings of _cash_. The silver used in these exchanges is called Sycee silver, and is apparently of any shape or size.

Sometimes the silver takes the bar or ingot shape, and is then termed _Nen_. The specimen on page 643 is an unusually large one, and weighs nearly a pound and a half. It was used as currency in Upper Cambodia, and is stamped on one side with a Chinese inscription which specifies the weight of the silver and also the name of the merchant who weighed it and affirmed how much it was worth.

But besides the ingot shape, this Chinese silver currency is found in many forms, not only in China, but in Singapore, in Ceylon, and wherever the Chinese trader is found, such as Hat-Money, Shoe-Money, Boat-Money, Snailshell-Money, Willow-leaf-Money--terms which are all derived from the actual form the silver has taken after it has come out of the mould and received the stamp of the particular Chinese merchant who makes himself responsible for its quality and weight. Some of these pieces are very small, and consequently are of little value.

The oddest of them is certainly the Snailshell-Money, which is really a bubble of silver solidified into the shape of a shell. It is characteristic of this sort of money that the silver shows the marks of the crucible in which it was melted on the side opposite to that which has received the inscription. To the same class of currency belongs the Bullet-Money of Siam--lumps of silver of various sizes stamped on one side. This currency is generally about an ounce in weight, but there are in existence specimens of it as small as fine shot.

One of our illustrations exhibits what is probably the least valuable currency in the world--the porcelain currency used among the gamblers of Burmah and Siam. Originally intended as nothing more than counters, they have come to be regarded as money, but of very small value. They are of various shapes and sizes, with a figure or emblem of some sort on one side, and on the other an inscription in Chinese, stating how much such and such a merchant will give for them. I fancy it takes about a barrelful of them to make a "trade."

Probably the largest pieces of money that have ever been brought into existence are those known as "Money of Necessity." During the Stuart wars Charles I. and James II. both coined money of this sort out of silver plate, gun metal, or anything else that came handy. You will find such pieces in any museum, and they are of all shapes and sizes.

The most remarkable specimens which I have been able to find of Money of Necessity are Swedish in their origin. The half-daler piece on page 639 is a mere baby, although it is three inches square. A four-daler piece was rather more than a foot square, and weighed nearly seven pounds. There is a specimen of an eight-daler piece in the British Museum, which is nearly a yard long and a foot broad. Just fancy carrying a few such pieces about in one's purse! Perhaps the largest piece of money in circulation in this country in recent years was the two-penny copper piece known as the "cartwheel," issued in 1797. It was quite a chunk of metal, and weighed exactly two ounces. A few years ago a gentleman collected a very large number of these two-penny pieces, and paved the floor of his smoking-room with them. No doubt they made better bricks than coins.

The smallest pieces of British money have been issued for Malta and Ceylon, and are of such microscopic values as one-third and one-fourth of a farthing. The illustrations show the full size of the coins.

The history of the fifteen-penny piece illustrated at the top of this article is certainly curious. It was good money in New South Wales some seventy years ago. In those days there was a great scarcity of "change" in the colony, and the piece of money in general circulation was the Spanish dollar. To make it go further, the centre of the dollar was punched out, and the bit of silver thus obtained was christened "fifteen pence," and put into circulation as of that value. The mutilated dollar still retained its original value, and was known as the "Holy Dollar"--from the round hole in it.

Amongst other examples of small currencies I have selected the Groat-Bill issued in the States before the Revolution, and also a specimen of the small postage-currency in use in the States immediately after the Civil War.

For the loan of all the Queer Cash which illustrate this article, we are indebted jointly to Messrs. Spink, of Piccadilly, and to the authorities of the British Museum.

They are not a tithe of those which we might have published, but they are among the most interesting, and show that the money instinct is prevalent the world over. "Hard" cash it can scarcely be called, for the feather currency at least is deliciously soft.

CLEVER MRS. BLADON.

AN ACCOUNT OF A BIT OF STRATEGY.

BY E. BURROWES.

_Illustrated by Sydney Cowell._

No one ever disputed the fact that Mrs. Bladon was a distinctly clever woman. And it proved to be an equally undisputable fact that when Ted Lumsden managed to outwit her he became the hero of the hour. It happened on this wise:

Colonel and Mrs. Bladon had a daughter--and a pretty daughter.

Ted Lumsden was young, good-looking, sufficiently well possessed of this world's goods to be able to regard matrimony as quite a necessary and probably pleasant experiment. Given two young people with youth, beauty, and power of attraction, and the solution of the problem is quite simple.

Ted Lumsden loved Nancy Bladon, whilst Nancy--well, she just tolerated him. That was what she said to him; what her real feelings on the subject were is quite another question.

But there was Mrs. Bladon in the matter, and she, like the clever woman she was, said nothing, but thought the more, until one day when for ten minutes she opened her heart to her husband, and for those ten minutes spoke concisely and to the point.

"You understand, Roger," she concluded, "it is not that I object to Lumsden at all; far from it. But what I do object to is the fact that for years--now don't laugh--years, I repeat, this has been going on, and nothing definite has ever come of it. Either he is in no hurry, or else he means nothing, after the fashion of young men of the present day. _Enfin_, I do not intend Nancy to be kept in a kind of suspense any longer. If she cares for the boy--well, I am sorry; but my mind is quite made up on one point: I shall not encourage Ted to haunt our house any longer. And I shall make it a good excuse to give Nancy three months on the Continent."

"_Après cela--le déluge_," muttered Colonel Bladon, lazily. "Well, you know best, my dear; only I don't see why Nancy should be exiled."

"Nonsense; it is no exile to travel for a bit and see a little of the world. At any rate, it will simplify matters, and that is everything."

So it came to pass that a decree went forth which, like the laws of the Medes and Persians, altered not. Miss Bladon, chaperoned by Lady Forsyth, would spend the winter abroad.

"A slight delicacy of chest," murmured clever Mrs. Bladon in answer to inquiries. "No, nothing serious; still, we think a winter abroad advisable, under the circumstances."

And the world took its cue very adroitly, and immediately detected a "transparency" about Nancy's pretty face and round, soft cheeks.

The first inkling of the plot reached Ted Lumsden one sunny afternoon in December when he called at the big house in Berkeley Square in his usual casual way.

"Not at home, sir," said the butler, with immovable countenance; and there was nothing for it but to leave cards and depart. But to her intimate friend, Lady Forsyth, Mrs. Bladon was rather more explicit.

"A little _affaire du coeur_, my dear Frances, for which there is nothing like change of air and scene. And, I beg of you, let Nancy flirt as much as she pleases. I am delighted you are really going by the Orient to Naples; a delightful voyage, and then there are so many facilities for harmless flirtation in mid-ocean."

Lady Forsyth laughed gaily.

"My good Theresa, no one could be better than I to chaperon Nancy on an ocean voyage. Till we pass Gibraltar I shall be visible to no one but my maid and the stewardess, such is the effect Neptune has upon me. And as for flirtation, your pretty daughter may do that as much as she likes. _I_ shall be none the wiser, and you know how vague and dreamy George is."

The subject of all this commotion rebelled somewhat at this summary measure. But Mrs. Bladon quelled the revolt gently.

"Travel, dearest, will do you a world of good, and you will enjoy the complete change of scene. Besides--your health."

Nancy frowned.

"I am not ill. I hate going abroad. Mother, you have some other reason."

Mrs. Bladon laughed.

"Only for your good, darling. By the way, remember we are dining out to-night; wear your pink dress, dear."

There was no more said on either side, though more than once Miss Bladon was much tempted to reopen the argument.

Curiously enough, she did not see Lumsden again. Fate seemed to be against her, and when the day came on which she was to join Lady Forsyth at Paddington _en route_ for Plymouth, from whence they were to sail in the _Orotava_, it brought to Nancy a very heavy heart.

Five minutes after she had left the house Lumsden arrived at the hall door.

"Just gone, sir. Miss Bladon's going abroad for her 'ealth, sir."

"Going abroad! What station?"

"Paddington, sir."

The man's grim face relaxed into a smile as Lumsden dashed down the square and jumped into a passing hansom.

"Double fare if you reach Paddington in five minutes," he shouted, thoroughly roused out of his normal state of lazy contentment by this unexpected move on the enemy's part.

He understood Mrs. Bladon perhaps better than that astute lady imagined.

At Paddington he espied the party--Sir George and Lady Forsyth, with valet and maid and a mass of baggage; Mrs. Bladon calm and serene, with Nancy lovelier than ever in her dark blue travelling costume with a touch of vivid scarlet at the throat.

She was looking anxiously about her, and as her eyes lighted on Lumsden's dark handsome face and tall lithe figure she smiled--a little, quick, flashing smile, mingled with a tinge of pink colour in her soft cheeks.

He made his way towards her as she was borne towards the Plymouth express in a vortex of people and baggage.

There was only five minutes, and she was going abroad.

Perhaps he had never realised all she was to him till that moment, and in the instant when Mrs. Bladon was saying last words to Lady Forsyth he reached Nancy's side. Their hands met in a long and close clasp.

"I could not believe it--that you were going away," he said, in quick, eager tones; "why did you not tell me?"

"I never saw you," she began, quickly. "You never came, and----"

"Good morning," broke in Mrs. Bladon, not one whit disconcerted at the unwelcome arrival of Lumsden on the scene. "Yes, Nancy is going abroad. Lucky girl, to escape cold, dreary England; and now, remember, dearest, to wrap up on the voyage, and don't stay up on deck after dinner till you get used to the chilly air. Good-bye, Frances; send me a line from Gibraltar. How I envy you! Yes, the _Orotava_ is a fine boat. _Bon voyage._ Good-bye, darling."

The train began to glide out of the station, and only a last sweet smile remained to Lumsden as Mrs. Bladon and he were left standing together on the gloomy platform. Then, when the train had passed out of sight, he swung round and faced Mrs. Bladon with a half-contemptuous smile in his dark, keen eyes.

"Well?" he said, coolly.

She laughed.

"Is it well?" she said, lightly. "You were hardly in time, were you? Nancy will have a delightful time with the Forsyths. Italy, perhaps Algiers; a charming tour away from this fog."

He threw up his head with a sudden characteristic gesture.

"Yes--of course. It was sudden, though. Why was I not told of it?"

They were walking out of the station, and Mrs. Bladon fastened her furs closely round her. It was bitterly cold.

"My dear Mr. Lumsden," she said, airily, as he opened the door of her carriage, "am I answerable to you for my doings? And you know it is best."

"Are you sure of that?" he said, coolly. "Perhaps there are two opinions about it. I am a fatalist, Mrs. Bladon."

"Really? I envy you. Can I give you a lift? No? Then home, James."

Lumsden walked quickly away, his pulses beating fast.

Stay. He had an idea--a brilliant idea. He would not accept defeat so easily. It was early in the day, and he was free for a month. In a month one may do wonders.

* * * * *

The sun was shining with dazzling brilliance as the _Orotava_ dropped her anchor between the lightships in Gibraltar Harbour, in the shadow of the great grey rock; and as Nancy Bladon looked over the side, eagerly scanning the fascinating scene around her, something of the witchery of that sunny Southern air stirred her young blood, and made her pulses beat madly.

The Forsyths were going ashore, and, driving through the narrow streets, Nancy, viewing everything in the light of her own joyous youth, felt enchanted with the picturesque Moors.

As they returned to the ship, and ascended out of the heavy, flat-bottomed boat, another came alongside with several passengers. Lady Forsyth had gone into the saloon, leaving Nancy leaning against the rail in the dancing sunshine. Presently she half turned round, and--found herself face to face with Ted Lumsden!

He, cool, nonchalant as ever, took her hand, with a quick smile.

"Well, so you see I am also going abroad--for my health."

There was a significance in the words which made the warm blood leap to Nancy's cheeks.

"But how did you come?" she said, in tones of the utmost astonishment.

"Overland--to Algeciras," he returned, coolly. "Caught the _Orotava_ nicely, and had a day to spare in Gibraltar. Now that I _am_ here, you will not send me away?"

"Why should I?"

In that moment she understood her mother's tactics. Why should she run away from Fate in the shape of Lumsden?

Lady Forsyth, returning to her charge as they steamed away into the Mediterranean, found her engaged in what appeared to be a very promising flirtation, such as would surely have delighted the heart of clever Mrs. Bladon.

She was secretly charmed with Lumsden, whom she had not noticed at Paddington, and to her letter to Mrs. Bladon, which she was writing to post at Naples, she added a postscript which filled that lady with unholy joy:

"Be quite easy about Nancy; I think all danger is over. A flirtation is in grand progress, and, between ourselves, the man is charming."

She quite forgot to mention his name, which, perhaps, was quite as well for that lady's peace of mind.

To Nancy and Lumsden there ensued a period of bliss. Steaming down the Mediterranean, with very little motion to disturb the equanimity even of Lady Forsyth, what halcyon days those were when, after dinner, in secluded corners of the deck, under the brilliant Southern moon, they walked up and down--silent very often, with the silence of a perfect understanding--till one fateful evening when Lumsden resolved to know his fate.

"Do you know, Nancy," he began (he had never called her Nancy before), "before you came away I think your mother took a dislike to me?"

"Oh, no--how could she?" said Nancy. "She always said she liked you. Besides----"

She paused abruptly, and Lumsden stole a glance at her half-averted face, which in the moonlight looked strangely sweet.

"Well, I called to see you several times, and you were always 'not at home.'"

Nancy started.

"Then that day at the station--well, I began to see," he continued, "and I resolved to wait no longer. Nancy, I followed you. I never knew till then how much you were to me; and now can you trust me more and love me a little? I have loved you--always--darling."

Then the inevitable question arose--what would Lady Forsyth say? and further, what about Mrs. Bladon?

Nancy suggested, and her suggestion was accepted, that Lady Forsyth should be confided in. So it came to pass that the following morning Lumsden and Lady Forsyth sauntered up and down the deck for some time together, and for ten minutes Lumsden spoke, in cool, level tones, at the end of which time Lady Forsyth laughed and shook her head reprovingly.

"Oh, you men!" she said. "Well, I suppose I can say and do nothing. It only remains for you to have it out with Mrs. Bladon. I have my own opinions."

Lumsden laughed.

Their eyes met with a look of mutual understanding.

"So have I," he said, drily. "Mrs. Bladon is a clever woman. If this sudden voyage had not taken place, who knows but that we might still have been in the throes of uncertainty?"

"Ah!"

It was very clear now to Frances Forsyth that Mrs. Bladon's manoeuvre had been well timed.

For a few short happy days they lingered in Naples, revelling in its beauty.

Then it was arranged that Lumsden should return to England alone, and see Mrs. Bladon. He felt he could not spare so long a holiday abroad, and now that his journey had not been in vain he found himself once more in foggy London, light of heart, cheerful, and cool as ever.

The lamps were lit when he was shown into the drawing-room where Mrs. Bladon was busy at her writing-table, and he noticed with some inward mirth that there was a distinct increase of cordiality in Mrs. Bladon's manner.

"You're quite a stranger, Mr. Lumsden," she began; "surely you've been out of town. Wise man! If I could only leave these terrible fogs and bitter winds!"

"Yes, Italy now is delightful."

Mrs. Bladon smiled unconsciously.

"Delicious, so Nancy says. Dear child, this trip is doing her a world of good. She writes such bright, happy letters; and indeed--you are an old friend of hers, Mr. Lumsden, and there is no harm in telling you--I think, from what Lady Forsyth has told me, that our dear child has found her fate. I know nothing definite, but one can read between the lines."

"Quite so," said Lumsden, with praiseworthy gravity, "Miss Nancy is looking very blooming, I assure you, and we have had a delightful trip. I found that a short holiday was quite necessary for my health, and, oddly enough, I just hit off the _Orotava_ at Gibraltar. That overland service is very useful. So I thought I would come in and let you know how Nancy was."

There was a moment's tense silence, during which they looked at each other steadily, Lumsden with a touch of cold mirth twinkling in his handsome eyes.

"Well?" she said, with a half-mocking smile, while a great triumph swelled within her.

Lumsden laughed.

"Well, shall I tell you how Nancy found her fate--and I mine? But that is a stale story. I found mine long ago, but somehow I never quite realised it till----"

"Yes?"

"That day at Paddington."

"Ah! Well, Ted--I suppose I may call you Ted?--of course you must speak to Colonel Bladon. For myself, Nancy must always please herself, and her choice is mine. Now I can see how delightful the voyage must have been to you both. You are very clever, Ted."

He laughed happily.

"Is all the credit mine, Mrs. Bladon? I fancy not. Perhaps I may see Colonel Bladon and ask you for a cup of tea."

To Colonel Bladon the whole thing seemed inexplicable.

"You sent the child away from the fellow," he said, sleepily, after Lumsden had left, "and now that they have fallen into each other's arms you are delighted. The inconsistencies of woman! Their name is legion."

"How dense you are, Roger! Don't you see that things might have hung fire if it hadn't been for that trip abroad?"

Colonel Bladon sat up and looked at his wife.

"By Jove! You're a clever woman."

And she was.

AN ENGINE MATCH BETWEEN ENGLAND AND AMERICA.

A WORLD'S RECORD FOR ENGLAND.

BY FREDERICK A. TALBOT.

That anomalous principle, friendly rivalry, which exists between the various railway companies of the world, is responsible for many extraordinary performances.

One of the most interesting, and certainly one of the most curious, of these has been the attempt by three different companies--two on this side of the water, and one on the other--to erect a locomotive in less than twenty-four hours, and so far the palm has to be awarded to an English company.

By building is simply meant the assembling of the thousand and one intricacies that constitute the iron steed of to-day, and not the manufacture of these innumerable parts, as it is perfectly obvious, even to the most uninitiated, that such a feat is absolutely impossible, under the present circumstances, in such a brief space of time. The accomplishment of such brilliant performances, however, speaks volumes for the skill, efficiency, and pride of the men engaged in such herculean tasks; the organisations of the railroads; the good feeling prevalent between the masters and the men; and lastly, but by no means least, the splendid standard of perfection attained by the gigantic machinery for the execution of the work with precision and thorough regard to gauge, thus enabling the parts to fit as accurately, and move as smoothly, as the cog-wheels of a watch.

The first record-breaking in this direction was attempted so far back as February 1878, by J. Deans, the well-known engineer of the London and North-Western Railway, and the engineering works of this company at Crewe. The class of engine selected for the operations was one of their standard coupled six-wheeled goods engines.

The engine was taken out of the erecting shop, complete in every detail, having been erected in the extremely short time of 25 hours 30 minutes. It may be as well to mention that only the actual working time devoted to the engines is considered, and although about two and a half days elapsed before the engine was completed, only 25-1/2 hours were really occupied in its erection. That same day the engine ran a trial trip, and was afterwards sent back to the shops for a final coat of paint.

Some ten years elapsed after the establishment of this record before another effort was made to erect an engine within twenty-four hours. On this occasion it was the Pennsylvania Railroad Company, one of the largest railroad companies in the United States, possessing over 8,000 miles of railway track, which is about equal in extent to almost three of our leading railway systems combined. The engine selected on this occasion was also a tank of the light passenger type, with cylinders 17 inches in diameter and a 24-inch stroke, driving wheels 62 inches in diameter, and with a total weight when in complete working order of 96,300 lbs., or about 43 tons. It was erected under the supervision of Mr. F. L. Sheppard, General Superintendent of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company, at the company's works at Altoona, Pennsylvania.

Although in this instance the engine was a little more complicated than that erected at Crewe, owing to the bogie-wheel provision in the fore part of the engine, it cannot be said, on the whole, to have been such a brilliant performance as that accomplished at Crewe; for whereas in the London and North-Western sheds, when the commencement was made, the frame plates were simply lying on the trestles without any attachments of any description whatever, at the Altoona works, when operations were commenced at 7 a.m. on Monday, June 18th, 1888, not only were the frame plates in position, duly riveted or bolted, and complete with cross bars, but the cylinders were also accurately placed.

Now, considering that in the effort at Crewe these operations alone occupied over six hours, it is absolutely impossible to place the Altoona experiment on all fours with the London and North-Western performance of 1878.

In the case of the American engine the foundations were practically completed before it entered the erecting shed.

Under these circumstances the first thing that the workmen had to do was to place the boiler in position upon the prepared frame, which had the majority of the tubes and fittings in position before it was placed in the hands of the engine-erectors. At twelve o'clock noon, however, after five hours' work, it was safely fixed, and the hardest part of the undertaking was thus successfully accomplished. Up to this stage, as will be seen from the illustrations, the whole of the engine so far erected was resting upon those little unpretentious, though indispensable, mechanical contrivances--jacks. These had now to be removed to make way for the wheels which were ready waiting to be inserted. Part of the motion was also installed, as well as the cow-catcher and cab.

While these operations were in progress, an army of painters had entered upon the scene with their pots and brushes, and soon were displaying the arts of their craft upon the barrel of the boiler. The change of colour between the painted and unpainted portions is easily distinguishable in our illustration on page 652.

When the men arrived at their work at seven o'clock on the following morning, they had only to put the finishing touches to the engine, such as the funnel, dome, the remainder of the motion, and other minor adjustments, while the painters gave the entire engine a complete coat of paint. At ten minutes to three in the afternoon of the same day the engine was completed, with steam up ready for trial, having been erected in 16 hours 50 minutes, thus beating the London and North-Western record by some eight and a half hours; and although it cannot be contrasted with the accomplishment at Crewe, yet it is still a wonderful performance.

The English locomotive builders, however, were determined to wrest the laurels away from the American company, and thus retrieve their paramount position. In December 1891, the Great Eastern Railway Company, which has been the pioneer in many ramifications pertaining to railway matters, entered the field of the competition, and succeeded in establishing a record which completely eclipses the wonderful performances at Crewe and Altoona. In this last instance an engine was erected in the phenomenally short time of ten hours. The Great Eastern, however, besides lowering one record, created another at the same time. In the previous efforts, the engines erected had been only tanks, but the latest competitors beat the record with an engine and tender!

The engine erected was one of the six-wheel coupled goods type, of which there are between two and three hundred in existence already upon the Great Eastern Railway system. The cylinders are 17-1/2 inches in diameter, with a stroke of 24 inches, while the coupled wheels are 57 inches in diameter. When running in complete working order, the engine itself weighs 37 tons 2 cwt., augmented to 67 tons 12 cwt. with the tender. The latter has a capacity for 2,640 gallons of water, and three tons of coal.

The engineering works of the company at Stratford was the scene of the remarkable engineering feat conducted under the superintendence of Mr. James Holden, the designer of the style of engine selected, and also the chief engineer to the Great Eastern Railway.

The commencement was made at eight minutes past nine on the morning of Thursday, December 10th. The start was similar to that at Crewe, with the frame plates lying on the ground with nothing more attached to them than the horn blocks and spring brackets. The number of men employed in constructing the engine was 85, including 39 fitters, assisted by 3 boys, 2 smiths, and 44 boiler makers, riveters, etc.

At eleven minutes after the word was given to commence, the first rivet was driven into the frames; nine minutes later, the foot-plate casting was fixed, and at twenty-six minutes after the start the motion plate was placed in position. The cylinders came next, and occupied another fifty minutes for their insertion in the requisite place.

At twelve o'clock, when the men left off work for their dinner, they had been four hours all but eight minutes upon the task.

It will be seen in our illustration that the fundamental parts of the base of the engine are completed, while the wheels are standing on the rails at the foremost end ready for adjustment. These were inserted soon after the men resumed operations after dinner, the frame of the engine being raised by means of the jacks to a height sufficient to allow the wheels being rolled along to the necessary position. The axle boxes, connecting-rod, and coupling-rod brasses were shortly afterwards fixed.

Previous to the installation of the wheels, the boiler was brought into the shed and mounted upon the frame. It was without the smoke-box, cab, or copings, which had to be fixed subsequently. At 4.15 p.m. the men were engaged in setting the valves, which task was still incomplete when they ceased work for the day, after 8 hours 22 minutes had been expended upon the engine. The engine at this stage is represented in our illustration, being, as will be seen, almost complete.

The next morning, when work was recommenced at six o'clock, the valve setting was continued, not being completed until seven o'clock. The painters now appeared, the engineers placed the finishing touches, and at ten minutes past nine, 9 hours 47 minutes from the start, the engine was complete.

While this hive of workmen were engaged upon the engine, another army of workers were just as busily engaged upon the erection of the tender.

The men worked away with a will, and in four hours they had the tender half completed, and succeeded in finishing their entire task three-quarters of an hour before their fellow workmen engaged on the engine. Fifty-two men were engaged upon the erection of the tender, comprising sixteen fitters, the same number of boiler-makers, and twenty labourers, riveters, etc.

As soon as the engine was finished it was connected with the tender and taken out of the shops to be photographed. Meanwhile, steam had been supplied, and later in the same day the trial trip was performed. This being satisfactory in every particular, the engine was immediately placed upon the regular goods service running between Peterborough and London.

NATURE'S DANGER-SIGNALS.

A STUDY OF THE FACES OF MURDERERS.

BY J. HOLT SCHOOLING.

[Member of Lord Egerton of Tatton's Committee on the Mental
and Physical Condition of Children.]