Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1895-08-14

into the room, and the business of get
ting together the effect and papers of
the man Of genius could be begun.
The valuables were mostly gone,
bundle of pawn tickets bearing witness to
their whereabouts. Beyond these there
were only a few books and photographs,
drawer full Of letters and some pic
torial souvenirs of popular dramas, and,
finally, there was the play, the chief OBJ
ject of their visit
It was contained in battered rose
wood desk, carefully locked, which the
landlady brought them, together with
the key. st. John Bourne, to whom, as
the duly appointed guardian of the dead
mans child, the document belonged,
took the desk from her and opened it.
He drew the sheets out one by one
and laid them Oh the table. On the first,
neatly and laboriously printed in archaic
characters. was the title, GA Modern
Hero, New and Original Drama in
Four Acts, by Norman Voules" The
second contained carefully drawn dia-
gram of the stage, with the mysterious
letters, 80. P. ""R. U. E." etc., en-
tered in their proper places. The next
had a long list of characters, with the
names scratched out and altered here
and there, and an imaginary cast. There
followed other lists of characters, with
other names, Tom altered to Harry, for
example, and Helen changed to Kate,
and other imaginary casts. Next came
stray scraps Of isolated dialogue and
stray hints for individual scenes, and
brief memoranda concerning them, such
as: "N. B.-A very strong situation
this. Must work up to it very careful
ly." "Mem.-This must play not less
than seven minutes I" "Query.-Is this
curtain original?" And that was all.
The other sheets were blank, or, at the
most, only stained with whisky.
'There must be some mistake,'' St.
John Bourne exclaimed. "There is no
play here, Ericsson"
Then he addressed the land1ady, who
was still waiting in the room.
care you quite sure, Mrs Saunders,
that you haye shown me all of Mr. Nor
man Voules' papers?''
"Certainly, Mr.. Bourne. The gentle
man locked them up himself the very
day he was took i'll, and nobody has had
the chance to touch them since, not even
Saunders, though he did ask where the
key was, always being an inquisitive
man, but wouldn' It tell him.
There was no reason to doubt her
word, but he continued:
81 will ask you a further question,
Mrs. Saunders. Were you aware of the
nature of the documents which Mr..
Voules kept in that desk:'
ooh, Lor', yes, sir. Everybody knew.
It was the play Mr.. Voules was writing.
Many's the time Mr.. Voules used to
talk to me about it when 7 was getting
out his whisky for him at nights when
he came home. Mrs. Saunders, he used
to say to me, 'one of the characters in
my play is respectable married woman
Of the lower middle class. What do you
think would be good name to give her?
Your own name, now, is rather q good
one. How would it be if I were to call
her Elizabeth Saunders? Or do you
think Jane Saunders would be better?'"
So she ratified on until she found that
they had ceased to listen, being satisfied
by the circumstantial evidence of the
truth Of what she said.
Bourne gathered up the papers and re-
placed them i'll the desk, smiling hol
low, sickly smile.
'We shall have to put Oh something
else for Jessie's benefit, he said. "Poor
fellow! It seems the drink had destroy
ed his genius long before it destroyed
his life. -
But Ralph Ericsson would not have it
so. His mind travelled back to that even
ing six months before, when Norman
Voules had sat with him in his cham
bers and sketched the outline of the
wonderful fabric that his brain was
building up. Brilliant snatches of dia-
logue and startling pictures of powerful
dramatic scenes darted back into his
memory and dwelt there. His faith in
the man Of genius remained mistaken
even under this last ordeal
"No, no,' he faltered. 81 can't let
you say that. The genius was always
there. He hadn written his play out, it
seems, and the world will never know
anything about it. But it was work Of
genius, all the same. Francis Gribble
in London Sun.