The Birmingham age-herald., 1905-07-30
Am
 Old Flame.

| With that his door shut In my face,
 and had to go my way, In the dark as to whether he had mistaken my meaning. l and was telling me lie or not. But for my misgivings upon this point might have extracted some very genuine i enjoyment out of the next few days. l 1 had decent clothes to my back. with
 money, as I say, in most of the pockets
 and more freedom to spend 1t than was
 possibly in the constant society of man
 whose personal liberty depended on l universal supposition that he was dead.
 Rallies was as bold as ever, and was i fond of him, but whereas he would run
 any risk in g. professional exploit, there
 were many innocent recreations still open to me which would have been sheer 1 madness in him. He could not even i watch a match, from the sixpenny seats, | at Lords Cricket ground where the gem
 tlemen were every years in worse way l without him. He never travelled by rail, | and dining out was a risk only to be run 1 with some ulterior object in view. In | fact much as 1t had changed Rallies
 could not longer show his face with per l feet impunity fin any quarter or at any 1 hour. Moreover. after the lesson he had l now learnt, I foresa.w increased caution | on his part in this respect. But myself | was under no such perpetual disadvan-
 tage, and. while what was good enough
 for Rallies was quite good enough for l me- so lang as we were together. saw
  l tunity of doing myself we'll"
 Such were my reflections on the way to Richmond In a hanson cab. Richmond l had struck us both as the best center l of operations in serach of the suburban
 retreat which Rallies wanted. and by road in a well-appointed, well-seected
 hansome, was certainly the most agreed
 ble way of getting there. In week or l ten days Raffies was to drive to me at
 the Richmond postoffice, but for at least
 a week 1 should be Ion my own. It was
 not an unpleasant sensation l leant 1 back in the comfortable hanson, and
 rather to one side, in order to have good
 look at myself in the bevelled mirror that l is almost as great an improvement in i these vehicles as the rubber tires. Really
 l was not an Unlocking youth, If one may l call ones self such at the age of thirty. could lay no claim either to the strik-
 ing cast of countenance or to the peculiar i charm of expression which made the face i of Rallies like no other in the world. But 1 this very distinction was In itself dan l ger, for It's impression was indelibls. whereas might still have been mistaken i for a hundred other young fellows at
 large in London. Incredible as 1t may appear to the moralists, l had sustained no external hallmark by my term of im- prsonment, and I am vain enough to
 believe that the evil which did had not a separate existence in my face. This afternoon, Indeed. I was struck by the l purity of my fresh complexion, and rath- CT depressed by the general innocence Of the vsage which peered Into mine from the little mirror. My straw-colored mus tache, grown in the flat after a protracted 1 holiday, ag~in preserved the most dis | appointing dimensions. and was still in-
 visible In certain lights without wax. So far from discerning the desperate l criminal who had "done tsme'' once, and
 deserved 1t over and over aganl. the su-
 perior but superficial observer might have 1 imagined that he detected certain e.e-
 ment of folly In my face.
 At all events 1t was not the face to
 shut the doors of first-class hotel
 against me, without accidental evidence | of more explicit kind, and it was with
 no little satisfaction that l directed the
 man to drive to the Star and Garter.
 also told him to go through Richmond park, though he warned me that 1t would add considerably to the distance and his | fare. It was autumn, and 1t struck me | that the tints would be fine And I had
 learnt from Rallies to appreciate such
 things, even amid the excitement of an audacious enterprise.
 If dwell upon this appreciation of this
 occasion 1t is because, like most pleasures | it exceedingly short lived l was 1 very comfortable at the Star and Gar | ter. which was so empty that I had a room worthy of a prince where l could | enjoy the finest of all views 0n patriot
 
 I 1 walked many miles through the noble 1 park, over the commons of Ham and l Wimbledon, and one day as far as that | of Esher, where I was forcibly reminded l of service we one rendered to distin- | guished resident in this delightful locality. l But 1t was on Ham common. one of the l places which Rallies had mentioned as | especially desirable, that I actually found | an almost ideal retreat. This was a cot
 tage where l heard. on inquiry. that | rooms were to be let in the summer. The | landlady. motherly body, of visible ex- | cellence, was surprised, indeed, to | ceive an application for the winter l months but l have generally found that the title of "author'' claimed with an air. | explains every little innocent irregular ity of conduct or appearance. and even 1 requires something of the kind to carry
 conviction to the lay intelligence. The 1 present case was one in point. and when | l said that I could only write in room | facing north, on mutton chops and milk, with cold ham In the wardrobe in case | of nocturnal inspiration, to which l liable, the literary character was estab- | lshed beyond dispute. secured the rooms | paid months rent In advance at my own request. and moped in them dreadful ly until the week was up and Rallies due l any day l explained that the inspiration | would not come, and asked abruptly if the mutton was New Zealand.
 | Thrice had I made fruitless inquiries at | the Richmond postcnfice but on the tenth | day I was in and out almost every hour | Not a word was there for me up to the last post at night. Home 1 trudged to | Ham with horrible forebodings. and back | again to Richmond after breakfast next morning. Still there was nothing. could | bear 1t no more At ten minutes to Il ]
 was climbing the station stairs at Earl'8 l Court
 | It was a wretched morning there, a l weeping mist shrouding the long straight street and clinging to ones face in clam | my caresses. 1 felt how much better 1t 1 was down at Ham. as turned Into our | street, and saw the flats looming like mountains. the chimney pots hidden in the mist. At our entrance stood a nebulous ] conveyance, that I took at first for a | tradesman's van; to my horror 1t proved 1 to be hearse; and all at once the white l breath ceased upon my lips.
 | the blinds were down!
 | rushed within. The doctors door
 stood open. I neither knocked nor rang 1 but found him in his consulting room
 with red eyes and blotchy face. Other
 wise he was in solemn black from head | to heel.
 "who is deadr' I burst out. Who Is l dead?"
 l The red eyes looked redder than ever l as Dr. Theobald opened them at the un- | Warra- fable sight of me. and he was ter