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 ^HAo 
 
 i^o( 
 
A PAUPER 
 
 MILLIONAIRE 
 
A PAUPER 
 MILLIONAIRE 
 
 BY 
 
 AUSTIN FRYERS 
 
 The W. J. GAGE CO., Limited, 
 TORONTO 
 

 Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, In the office of the 
 Minister ?f Agriculture, by Thk W. J. Qaqk Comi-any (Limited), In 
 the year ono ^^ou8and eight hundred and nlnety-nlne. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 ThB MtLLIONAIRR STARTS FOR ENGLAND t 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Thb Millionairr Mbbts a Dreadful Socialist 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Thb Millionaire is Pbnniless . , 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Millionaire is Hungry . , 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Millionaire Begs for Bread . , 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 The Millionaire Dines "Ally Cart" 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 The Millionaire Goes "Over the Water" 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The Millionaire as a Suspected Lothario 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The Millionaire Loses Caste . , 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 The Millionaire Sups "Al Fresco" . 
 
 7 
 
 10 
 
 . i8 
 
 . a; 
 
 . 37 
 
 . 62 
 
 . 74 
 
 . 83 
 
 . 94 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The Millionaire Goes to the Workhouse . 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 The Millionaire Lewes the Workhouse 
 
 CHAPTER XITI. 
 The Millionaire Makes an Agkeement 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 The Millionaire Losks his New Friend , 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 The Millionaire Becomes a Petty Thief 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 The Millionaire Finds Rest 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith Packs up 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 The Press on the Alert . 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith Hecomes a Popular Heroine 
 
 Another Arrest . 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Miss Martin Protests 
 
 CHAPTER XXII, 
 
 The Millionaire's Troubles are Ended 
 
 rAr.w 
 107 
 
 140 
 . 156 
 171 
 184 
 194 
 203 
 22t 
 
 252 
 
A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE MILLIONAIRE STARTS FOR ENGLAND 
 
 'THHE Pownceby-Smiths of New York were a 
 -*■ leading line in families in that city of big 
 achievements. Reuben Pownceby-Smith was called 
 a millionaire because most people's knowledge of 
 figures cannot grasp a significance beyond what is 
 expressed by the word. However, even in New 
 York, to be a millionaire is to have a clear title 
 to consideration, and the name Pownceby-Smith was 
 a familiar household word. 
 
 Everybody pronounced it correctly too, although 
 it is open to question if everybody could spell it 
 correctly. The pronunciation, founded on some 
 vague genealogical allusioi.b which connected the 
 family with something Norman or German in the 
 early centuries— at all events, it was distinctly 
 English and aristocratic— the { enunciation of the 
 name was "Pye-Smith." 
 
 7 
 
8 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 Mrs. Povvnceby^Smith, who was frequently inter- 
 viewed, accounted for the pronunciation by suggesting 
 that in the early days of primitive printing— she 
 meant before the linotype machine was invented- 
 abbreviations were commonly employed to lessen the 
 evils of trades-unionism, and the name was probably 
 written " P'y-Smith." In fact, with a daring reliance 
 on the hypocrisy of professed learning and a 
 consequent immunity from correction, she on one 
 occasion informed an interviewer that the name was 
 so spelt by the Venerable Bede. 
 
 With such eno.mous distinctions -.s profuse wealth 
 and a name which defied every Known rule of pro- 
 nunciation, it is no wonder that talk, small and large, 
 was mainly concerned with the Pownceby-Smitlis 
 and their doings. Even London was minutely 
 informed of the thou«;and? spent hy Mr?. Po"-nceby- 
 Smith on flowers lor the decoration of a dinner-table, 
 and it was said that, in an excels of originality, she 
 melted a peari of great price to mix with the drink 
 which she quaffed to the toast of " The Queen " at 
 the Jubilee. Indeed, Mrs. Pownceby-Smith was a 
 godsend to editors, her doings furnishing a fair stock 
 of copy with generou ; regularity and not much 
 injured by the fact that the recital read somewhat 
 like a weak and ineffective echo of early Roman 
 history. 
 
STARTS FOR ENGLAND 
 
 Just as Mrs. Pownceby-Smith was planning a 
 water-gala on an enormous scale Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith announced his intended departure for London. 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith begged him to take care of 
 himself, and to make sure that he did not sleep in 
 damp sheets; and then she forgot the coming 
 severance in an absorbed inspection of a design of 
 the gilt and bejewelled barge with purple silk sails 
 Dn which she was to repose as a fifty-year-old, 
 double-chinned Cleopatra. 
 
 She was only aroused into an active interest in 
 her husband's journey when she learnt that he 
 intended travelling quite alone. Not to take at 
 least a valet and a secretary was a dreadful blow to 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith's sense of dignity, but on this 
 point Mr. Pownceby-Smith was inexorable without 
 arousing her suspicions. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE MEETS A DREADFUL 
 SOCIALIST 
 
 'Y^HE good ship Livania ploughed her way across 
 the Atlantic with that gigantic stride which 
 has helped so greatly to narrow the herring-pond 
 in our estimation. A few people persisted in being 
 ill, for no conceivable reason, as the sea was un- 
 usually calm, and the boat was noted for its steady 
 behaviour. But even these were loud in their praises 
 of the Livania, so that one can hardly picture 
 the excesses of misery to which a worse ship and 
 a rougher passage would have driven them. Mr. 
 Pownceby-Smifh paced the deck with a huge shawl 
 wrapped round his shoulders, and tucked up closely 
 to his chin. He had booked on board as "Mr. 
 Smith" merely, so that i^y,,, if any, of his fellow- 
 passengers knew him to be the famous millionaire. 
 So at all events he believed. He seemed particularly 
 pleased with himself, and as the wind nipped the tips 
 of his ears, so that he had to bury them in his shawJ 
 
 •» 
 
A DREADFUL SOCIALIST 
 
 II 
 
 to relieve the pleasant pain of the sting, he smiled 
 to himself with a zest of enjoyment he had never 
 experienced in the whole course of Mrs. Pownceby- 
 Smith's balls, dinners, and fetes. 
 
 Whatever the object of his journey, he contem- 
 plated it with pleasurable anticipation. He made 
 no acquaintances among the passengers, though he 
 chatted to most with that freedom which life on 
 board ship is alone able to produce. 
 
 One of these was an English actor-manager re- 
 turning from a starring visit to the States, but as 
 his conversation was entirely about dukey, new 
 theatres, and syndicates, and the impossibility of 
 getting new plays, as no one had time to read them, 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith did not find his conversation 
 exhilarating. Indeed, it was only with one of the 
 passengers that Mr. Pownceby-Smith found himself 
 able to converse with any genuine interest, and this 
 in spite of the fact that their views were in entire 
 divergence, and that he soon discovered his com- 
 panion to be an English Socialist labour leader, who 
 had been to New York to hearten some dock strikers 
 in their rebellious obstinacy. 
 
 The Socialist was a somewhat spare man of medium 
 height, and in point of age among the vague thirties. 
 When he was in a temper with the abstract capitalist 
 he looked forty, but when he was laughing at a good 
 
11 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 joke with the full-stomached zest of a cabin passenger 
 he did not look more than twenty-nine. His hair 
 was coal-black, and his complexion almost sallow; 
 so that Mr. Pownceby - Smith was at first a trifle 
 frightened lest he might turn out to be a foreigner 
 or an Anarchist of some other sort. 
 
 Just before turning in one night Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith and the Socialist were leaning on the deck-rail 
 looking at the track of the moon on the waters. 
 The talk turned on the distribution of wealth ; and 
 the Socialist, in his sweeping way, declared that 
 capitalists, as a class, were guilty of the murder of 
 every person who died of starvation. 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith laughed. 
 " My dear sir," said he, " if one were only to argue 
 in that strain, there would be no end to the criminality 
 one is unconsciously guilty of Take, for instance, 
 the inventors of machinery. Every labour-saving 
 invention brings in its train a sentence of starvation 
 to those whom it deprives of work. Who is guilty 
 of the deaths of those who no longer have work to 
 do? The inventor?" 
 
 " No," replied the Socialist, " not the inventor, but 
 the capitalist. If ten men are propelling a boat, 
 and midway in the journey discover a means by 
 which six can do the work, they won't throw the 
 other four into the water. They won't do this 
 
A DREADFUL SOCIALIST 
 
 '3 
 
 passenger 
 His hair 
 t sallow ; 
 t a trifle 
 foreigner 
 
 3wnceby- 
 deck-rail 
 2 waters. 
 Ith ; and 
 red that 
 lurder of 
 
 to argue 
 iminality 
 instance, 
 r - saving 
 tarvation 
 is guilty 
 work to 
 
 itor, but 
 a boat, 
 eans by 
 row the 
 do this 
 
 because they are men, and not mere capitalists. 
 But that is exactly what the capitalist does. If his 
 mill requires ten thousand men to work it, and he 
 then sets up machinery which enables the work to 
 be done in a third of the time, that is solely what 
 should be the result ; but the wicked, murderous 
 result is that a third of the bands are sacked." 
 
 "Well, they find work elsewhere." 
 
 " Perhaps they do. and perhaps they don't. The 
 capitalist doesn't care. Labour-saving machinery, 
 which is invading every walk of life, should be a 
 blessing, for it tends to do the world's work at less 
 effort, but the capitalist merely says, ' It does it at 
 less cost.'" 
 
 "Oh," said Mr. Pownceby-Smith loftily, "each 
 invention creates new work for that which it dis- 
 places. Besides, no one willing to work ever starves." 
 
 " You are mistaken," said the Socialist. " If you 
 were placed in the middle of London to-morrow 
 without a penny or a friend, and you were willing 
 and able to work, you would starve befoic you could 
 earn the price of a meal or a bed. Mind that you 
 never find yourself penniless and friendless in a ^ 
 great city, especially if it be a Christian capital." 
 
 " It 's all a matter of opinion," said the millionaire, 
 "and I don't agree with you. I am certain I should 
 never starve." 
 
'4 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 " Have you ever had to look for work ? " 
 "No, because, like every industrious man, I have 
 always had more than I could get through." 
 
 "You'd change your opinion." said the Socialist 
 sententiously, "if you had to look for work, and a J. 
 meal depended on your success." * 
 
 "Now this is the stuff you all talk to the working- 
 men." said Mr. Pownceby-Smith, colouring slightly, 
 for it always vexed him to argue with a man who 
 did not immediately agree with him. "And so you 
 advise them to go in for weeks and weeks of strikes 
 That 's the real cause of starvation. I know it." 
 
 The Sociah'st looked up quickly. 
 
 " You have had workmen on strike against you ? " 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Pownceby-Smith, "if you must 
 know it, yes, I have had. And a sorry mess they 
 made of it " 
 
 " Living like hounds and coming back like curs ? " 
 suggested the Socialist. 
 
 "Well "—and the millionaire laughed— "it was 
 something like that." 
 
 "It is always like that," said the Socialist 
 bitterly. 
 
 " But they act on the advice of such as you." 
 
 " No. I dare not advise them. If I did " 
 
 " If you did " 
 
 "They would not fill their bellies with the east 
 
A DREADFUL SOCIALIST ,5 
 
 wind for your amusement. I warrant." And the 
 SocalJst stood up as if he intended going below. 
 Then he suddenly turned. " I wager, Mr. Capitalist." 
 saicj he. " I can tell you what your people did. They 
 
 broke the plate-glass windows of your office » 
 
 "They did." 
 
 "They burnt down some out-parts of the works." 
 
 " They burnt the sheds." 
 
 "And in no single instance did they do a 
 penn'orth of damage in which you were not fully 
 covered by insurance." 
 
 " That is quite so." 
 
 "And meanwhile the strike-pay, never more than 
 merely sufficient to keep body and soul together 
 was reduced week by week; and so the men and 
 their wives and children were in a state of semi- 
 starvation." 
 
 " Yes J they must have been." 
 
 "They fought you as capitalists, and with about 
 sixpence to your thousand pounds ; and they had 
 a multitude to feed, and you but your household." 
 
 "They had only themselves to thank for it all 
 They began t!.e fight" 
 
 "And you think I should advise that' No- I 
 should never advise Lazarus to fight Dives with 
 money-bags. What I should advise would be to 
 see that where the wives and children larked for 
 
n 
 
 i6 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 :i 
 
 food you too should lack yours. If you had a 
 principle at stake, then I would have you fight it 
 or. equal terms, pang for pang with them, sharing 
 their hunger and their discomfort." 
 
 "You are talking nonsense. That condition was 
 impossible." 
 " How many men were on strike ? " 
 " Two thousand." 
 
 "Twenty of them, with the hearts of fathers and 
 tlie souls of men, would have been sufficient to have 
 stormed your house and taken you as a hostage 
 during the fight Safely housed in their care, hidden 
 from police and soldiers, the minions of capitalism, I 
 would have you on absolutely equal terms with those 
 you fought. I would have the duel equal." 
 " You dare not advise this." 
 
 "No, because our greatest foes are our foolish 
 friends—the workers- themselves. I am sure that 
 you can see the wisdom of the advice far more 
 quickly than the average working-man. Heaven! 
 would I not like to see you caged up so ! " 
 
 " I cap see one thing, sir ; that is, that you hold 
 most abominable opinions, and that I would prefer 
 not to exchange ideas with you during the remainder 
 of the voyage. I wish you good-night, sir." 
 
 "Good-night," said Uie Socialist as he looked at 
 the laughing moon. And then, as M"-. Pownceby- 
 
 'T ~~"— 1 n-ii i rm"-i 1 
 
RE 
 
 f you had a 
 i you fight it 
 them, sharing 
 
 condition was 
 
 )f fathers and 
 icient to have 
 as a hostage 
 r care, hidden 
 " capitah'sm, I 
 ms with those 
 al." 
 
 A DREADFUL SOCIALIST ,7 
 
 Srnith made his way to the ladder, he added. " Mind 
 
 vou'l, s^ ^T/°""'' P^""'^"^ '" London, or 
 Tr ''"' ^°" ^^" «"^ - f-nd. Then 
 y- 11 beheve in the reality of starvation. Good 
 
 Mr Pownceby-Smith did not reply further and 
 when h met the Socialist next day h'e'cut hirdeac 
 The Soaa hs, however, did not appear to recognize 
 h.m and the millionaire made up his mind to puW^h 
 
 ; our foolish 
 
 im sure that 
 
 ice far more 
 
 m. Heaven ? 
 
 !" 
 
 iat you hold 
 
 would prefer 
 
 he remainder 
 
 sir." 
 
 le looked at 
 
 ■. Pownceby- 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE IS PENNILESS 
 
 TV/TR. POWNCEBY- SMITH'S luggage was 
 labelled direct to the Hotel Cosmopolis, 
 
 London, and ascribed to the ownership of plain 
 "Mr. Smith, passenger from New York," and with 
 the exception of one travelling bag, which he re- 
 tained when he went to the Star Hotel, Liverpool, 
 he allowed it to be conveyed in advance to its 
 destination. 
 
 The millionaire, gave the name "Thompson" 
 at the Star Hotel, and he had no sooner secured 
 a number than he did a cun<;as t! ing. He went 
 direct to a barber's and ha^' hi-; chi.i shaved clean, 
 and his flowing whiskers cropped in close mutton- 
 chops. 
 
 And this reminds me that I have not attempted 
 a description of the millionaire. Let me anticipate 
 the newspapers and quote the police effusion which 
 wac circulated broadcast two days later, when his 
 
 i8 
 
 
PKNNir.ESS 
 
 »9 
 
 jgage was 
 Ilosmopoli.s, 
 3 of plain 
 " and with 
 lich he re- 
 Liverpool, 
 nee to its 
 
 'hompson " 
 er secured 
 Hp w';nt 
 ived clean, 
 56 mutton- 
 attempted 
 anticipate 
 aion which 
 when his 
 
 disappearance was insisted on in spite of his earnest 
 protests : — 
 
 "DISAPPEARANCE. 
 "Reuben Pownreby-Sniith, age 54. Ruddy complexion, 
 medium height, well built, brown hair slightly ^ey at the 
 temples, full brown beard. (leneraliy carries an umbrella 
 or walkmg. stick. Is in the habit of wrariiu- trousers 
 turned up at the ends. Was dressed in a dark t veed suit 
 without an overcoat, and is believed to have worn i hat of 
 soft felt. Arrived in Liverpool by s.s. Livania on the 6th 
 inst., and is believed to have called at the Star Hotel 
 Liverpool. Any information as to his whereabouts should 
 be sent to .. _ 
 
 "Inspector Dennis, 
 
 "Scotland Yard, S.W." 
 
 As this was authoritatively supposed to be sufficient 
 to enable the man in the street to identify liim, it v ill 
 probably suffice to give the average reader a full idea 
 of his appearance. 
 
 But when the full beard was reduced in proportion 
 on the cheeks, and entirely sacrificed on the throat 
 and chin, it made a deal of difference in the appear- 
 ance of the millionaire ; and when a little later he 
 applied the contents of a shilling bottle of hair-dye 
 to the " brown hair slightly grey at the temples" and 
 to his rather sparse mutton-chops, the change had the 
 effect of making him look much sprucerand younger 
 and he viewed himself in the glass in his bedroom 
 with complacent satisfaction. 
 
il 
 
 r- 
 
 20 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 Having sampled the dishes of the hotel, he sauntered 
 along towards Lime Street, aimlessly, perhaps, but he 
 appeared to know his way. It may be that he wanted 
 to become familiar with his new self before experi- 
 menting with it on others. The hotel attendants had 
 evidently taken no note of his appearance on his 
 arrival at the hotel, so that when he came down 
 to dinner the change he had effected excited not 
 even the comment of a surprised look. 
 
 When the millionaire had reached Lime Street, he 
 engaged a hansom and gave an address in Bootle. 
 The cabman stipulated his fare, and the millionaire 
 agreed with a l?ugh. He would punish such distrust 
 by not giving him the half-sovereign he had intended 
 giving. 
 
 The cabman chuckled to himself, for he was 
 charging more than the fare. It was a good world 
 for both just then. 
 
 It was a long drive, and when the address was at 
 length reached, the millionaire was disappointed. The 
 house was "to let," 
 
 He had never anticipated this, and as he had made 
 such extensive toilet preparations for his visit, it was 
 no wonder he was chagrined. 
 
 "Keys is next door," said the cabby. "Perhaps 
 they can give you the address." 
 
 " Thanks ! " said the millionaire. " I '11 inquire." 
 
 ilR 
 
3 sauntered 
 aps, but he 
 he wanted 
 )re experi- 
 idants had 
 ice on his 
 ime down 
 ccited not 
 
 Street, he 
 in Bootle. 
 nillionaire 
 :h distrust 
 1 intended 
 
 ■ he was 
 3od world 
 
 ss was at 
 ted. The 
 
 dad made 
 sit, it was 
 
 " Perhaps 
 
 luire." 
 
 PENNILESS 2, 
 
 "She's been gorn over a month," said the landlady 
 of next door, "and I forwards 'er letters to 33, Marsh 
 Parade, Lambeth, Lunnon, S.E." 
 
 The millionaire gave her half a crown, thanked her 
 and drove back to his hotel. He was gloomy and 
 depressed. His step when he left the cab had lost 
 something of its suggested springiness; even his hair- 
 dye had lost something of its lustre. He looked 
 gloomily at the list of amusements hung in the hall 
 and, oblivious of the duties of millionaires to endow 
 theatres or in lesser degree encourage the arts, he 
 decided on a smoke and went to bed early. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith was not an early riser, but he 
 decided on an early train. 
 
 Early rising did not agree with him, and his 
 breakfast consisted mainly of a cup of coffee and 
 a grumble at the waiter. The latter seemed to give 
 him most satisfaction. 
 
 A porter secured his bag when he got to the station 
 and directed him to the booking office. 
 
 " I 'II secure a compartment for you, sir, and see you 
 when you get your ticket." 
 
 But when Mr. Pownceby-Smith secured his ticket 
 and found the platform, neither the porter nor his bag 
 was anywhere to be seen. Concluding that the porter 
 had chosen a compartment for him and placed his h.rr 
 in It, he walked along by the train inspecting all tbe 
 
I ; 
 
 N 
 
 
 (i'i 
 
 
 f ^' 
 
 22 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 first-class compartments, but without avail. There 
 was no time to go in search of the porter, as the 
 engine was already manifesting signs of impatience, 
 and inquiries of the officials on the platform were 
 useless. 
 
 In the confusion, the porters could not understand 
 his trouble; nor, indeed, had Mr. Pownceby-Smith 
 the gift of imparting his ideas briefly. In the end, 
 he had to take his seat without discovering his bag, 
 and had barely time to give a porter a shilling to 
 fetch him a paper from the bookstall before the train 
 left the platform. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith was specially annoyed at the 
 temporary loss of his bag, as it contained a stimulant 
 helpful to the pleasant passing of a journey ; but he 
 reflected that, after all. Spiers r.nd Pond are an assist- 
 ance, although entailing a rush across the platform 
 and a competition with people who were most pro- 
 bably not millionaires. Then he turned to the pages 
 of his newspaper, and the first thing that met his eye 
 was an interview with the Socialist who had come 
 from America in the Livania. The millionaire 
 sneered at the idea of a leading newspaper de- 
 voting its columns to an interview with a labour 
 leader. A country that interviewed strikers and 
 sheltered Anarchists was an object of pity to the 
 citizen of a free and noble republic. 
 
E 
 
 ail. There 
 rter, as the 
 impatience, 
 tform were 
 
 understand 
 :eby- Smith 
 [n the end. 
 ng his bag, 
 shilling to 
 re the train 
 
 )yed at the 
 a stimulant 
 ey ; but he 
 e an assist- 
 e platform 
 
 most pro- 
 ) the pages 
 net his eye 
 
 had come 
 millionaire 
 paper de- 
 a labour 
 ikers and 
 ity to the 
 
 PENNILESS 
 
 as 
 
 He glanced at the article rather than read it, until 
 his eye lighted on his own name. 
 
 "The only amusing incident of the voyage was my 
 chance encounter with Pownceby-Smith, the millionaire 
 New Yorker," so the interviewed one was reported to 
 have said. "He seemed lost among the English on 
 board, and evinced a lordly distaste for his own country- 
 men. Greenbacks seemed to flutter in the rim of his hat 
 and railway shares studded the folds of his travelling wrap' 
 He looked money and talked money, in spite of his efforts 
 to travel incognito under the harmless name of Smith, from 
 which he had shorn the Pownceby. I recognized him in- 
 stantly, but did not let him see I knew him. and I therefore 
 had an opportunity of imparting some home truths to this 
 victim of Wall Street cupidity, which may, perhaps, bear 
 fruit. Anyway, they had an immediate effect, for he cut 
 me dead when we met on deck afterwards," 
 
 The interview then went on to speak of English 
 labour prospects, but Mr. Pownceby-Smith had had 
 more than enough, and again he soliloquized a growl 
 at the loss of his bag. 
 
 It was a clear grey morning; the sky. in the 
 absence of glare, telescopically translucent, enabling 
 the eye to travel over the surrounding country with 
 ease and pleasure. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith had an eye for nature 
 as the saying goes, and as he began to think of his 
 
f^f' 
 
 i 
 
 24 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 projected visit to 33, Marsh Parade. Lambeth, his 
 annoyance began to wear off, and he settled himself 
 comfortably in the corner, and almost believed that 
 he was enjoying himself 
 
 When at length the train began to slow up, Mr. 
 Pownceby-Smith remembered the missing bag with 
 longing, and determined to repair the misfortune. 
 A few puffs from the engine, a violent shiver along 
 the line, a bump, and then Mr. Pownceby-Smith let 
 down the window of his compartment and looked 
 out for one of the attendants. The only perambu- 
 latmg tea-stand in sight was at the further end of 
 the train, where evidently the occupants were in no 
 need df refreshment. Mr. Pownceby-Smith, who 
 was always annoyed at trifles, champed his feet on 
 the floor of the carriage with impatience, and then 
 consoled himself by concluding that all persons con- 
 cerned in the management of railways and railway 
 refreshments were dolts of the most addle-pated 
 order. His impatience and resentment grew as the 
 minutes passed, and the tea-stand crawled along out 
 of reach. At length the engine became restive, and 
 the officials evinced a special desire for walking 
 backwards and waving flags. Mr. Pownceby-Smith 
 saw there was nothing for it but to make a dash 
 along the platform and effect his purpose by the 
 plebeian process of personal application. 
 
PENNILESS 25 
 
 "Why the-the-didn't you hurry up?" he panted. 
 " Give me a flask of Scotch whisky." 
 
 " Yes, sir. Eighteen-pence, sir." 
 
 "Quick!" said Mr. Pownceby-Smith ; "the train's 
 about to start." 
 
 The attendant held out the flask, and Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith dived his hand into his vest-pocket. Empty ! 
 Then the other. Empty ! The guard was blowing 
 his whistle. He dived both hands into his trousers 
 pockets. Empty ! 
 
 " Are you going on, sir ? " shouted a porter. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith thought many things more 
 or less vague and obscure, but he knew one thing 
 which was, that he must instantly fly to his compart-' 
 ment, or lose the train. 
 
 He was a man of resolution, and fled. The train 
 was moving when he got his foot on the step. A 
 porter helped him in unceremoniously and banged 
 the door. 
 
 Then Mr. Pownceby-Smith searched all his pockets 
 He had a few letters of no importance, which he tore 
 up and flung out of the window, a handkerchief, and 
 a pair of gloves, but not a penny in money. His 
 ready cash and his cheque-book on the London and 
 New York Bank, to which a draft had been sent 
 tor his convenience, were in the missing bag. He 
 was penniless. 
 
w 
 
 l^ 
 
 26 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 Penniless ! 
 
 As the word occurred to him he suddenly remem- 
 bered the warning of the Socialist : " Mind you don't 
 eave yourself penniless in London, or you'll starve 
 before you can find a friend." 
 
 
 \ li 
 
IRE 
 
 I 
 i 
 
 Idenly remem- 
 
 lind you don't 
 
 you '11 starve 
 
 •t5^' 
 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE IS HUNGRY 
 
 'T^HE millionaire was extremely annoyed. It 
 seemed to him that in some vague, mysterious 
 sort of way he was engaged in a duel with the 
 Socialist to test a theory on which they disagreed. 
 Nothing could well have appeared to him to be more 
 impossible when the subject was broached on board 
 the Lwania than that he should find himself penni- 
 less and friendless in London, but that certainly 
 would be his condition when he presently stepped on 
 the platform at Euston. 
 
 It was a strange coincidence, and the humorous 
 side of it would first occur to most people, but not 
 so to Mr. Pownceby-Smith. He regarded Socialism 
 as a plague, and Socialists as pests, and in this com- 
 prehensive catalogue he embraced everything which 
 tended to an aggressive advocacy of the interests of 
 labour as opposed to capital ; and so, as the mere 
 discussion of a socialistic problem was offensive to 
 him, the testing it by his own experience was almost 
 humiliating. 
 
 27 
 
28 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 III 
 
 iM 
 
 That it was being tested was beyond question. 
 The loss of his bag deprived him of that stimulant 
 which he regarded as an essential adjunct to his 
 journey, and he had been unable to supply this very 
 trivial want because he was penniless. 
 
 Worse even than this, it was now being borne in 
 on him with a sickening realism that a cup of coffee 
 and a growl at the waiter is a sorry breakfast. In his 
 bag— oh, that bag !— he had a small case of refresh- 
 ments and a flask— oh, that flask !— which had been 
 prepared for him at his hotel. Now he was sinkincr 
 for the want of a stimulant, and there was a gnawing 
 pain in the pit of his stomach which he could not 
 understand, and which consequently made him feel 
 excessively anxious. 
 
 He worried himself with vain conjectures, the most 
 likely idea being that it was a reaction of the voyage, 
 and that he was now to suffer some pains for the 
 immunity he had enjoyed while on board. The 
 theory was not convincing, and then an idea dawned 
 on him which grew to a conviction, and made him 
 flush red with anger to the roots of his hair. 
 He was hungry. 
 
 The shame of it, the indignity, and the humilia- 
 tion ! He, the famous millionaire of New York 
 society, actually suffering the pangs of hunger! 
 Could it all be the result of a conspiracy? Did 
 
'& 
 
 HUNGRY 
 
 29 
 
 the Socialist conspire with some associates to steal 
 his bag? A brief reflection convinced him that this 
 was impossible. According to the interview in the 
 newspaper, the Socialist had gone straight on to 
 London. Besides, it was only by a mere chance 
 that he had left most of his cash in his bag, so that 
 when he had purchased his ticket to London he had 
 one shilling left. The Socialist could not possibly 
 have foreseen this. However, chance had ordained 
 that the truth of the Socialist's warning would soon 
 be put to the test, and meanwhile he was experi- 
 encmg some of the discomforts of poverty. 
 
 " Heaven ! would I not like to see you caged up 
 so!" the Socialist had said; and here, under a different 
 set of circumstances, he was actually realizing the 
 bocialist s aspiration. 
 
 The millionaire was excessively angry, and he was 
 becommg excessively hungry. Try as he might to 
 laugh at the Socialist's warning, he could neither get 
 hnn, his theories, nor his warnings out of his head. 
 A hundred times he found himself imagining himself 
 the victim of the Socialist's plan, held as a hostage 
 c lurmg the fight with his workers, and condemned to 
 share their miseries. 
 
 He had often heard of stalwart working-men, their 
 weak wives and feeble children, going for whole days 
 without food; he had spoken of it as a castigation 
 
30 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 righteously merited, because .self-iiiflicted ; but he had 
 never reah'zcd till now what hunger really meant. 
 If during the strike he had been held as a hostage, 
 and made to endure such suffering as he was now 
 enduring, would he have held out? And vaguely he 
 realized that he was more than willing; at thit moment, 
 had he the power, to write a cheque in exchange for 
 a good, hearty breakfast that would exceed the sum 
 which was in dispute with his workers. 
 
 Probably use enables even the misery of pain to be 
 more endurable, for the millionaire, as he restlessly 
 changed from side to side of the carriage and occasion- 
 ally leant out of the window, wondered how any man 
 could endure a whole day of such torment. And then 
 he remembered how he used to drive in his open 
 carriage among his rebellious workers, almost openly 
 jeering at their hunger-drawn faces. With a shiver 
 he realized that he had been goading creatures not 
 far removed from the uncontrollable madness of 
 famishing wolves. Hunger must be a sharpener of 
 the imagination, for Mr. Pownceby- Smith found 
 himself picturing a crowd of starving Pownceby- 
 Smith workers being goaded by the sight of a 
 Pownceby-Smith millionaire, falling on him in his 
 carriage, and demanding food from him with menaces 
 that would not admit of argument. 
 
 • , . Another statipn, and the maddening sight of 
 
RE 
 
 d ; but he Iincl 
 
 really meant. 
 
 as a hostage, 
 
 > he was now 
 
 nd vaguely he 
 
 : thit moment, 
 
 exchange for 
 
 :ceed the sum 
 
 T of pain to be 
 1 he restlessly 
 and occasion - 
 how any man 
 nt. And then 
 3 in his open 
 almost openly 
 With a shiver 
 creatures not 
 : madness of 
 sharpener of 
 Smith found 
 g Pownceby- 
 ; sight of a 
 n him in his 
 with menaces 
 
 HUNGRY 
 
 3« 
 
 several passengers availing themselves of the oppor- 
 tunity of securing lunc!ioon-basl<ets. . . . 
 
 Mr. Pounccby-Smith retired into a corner of his 
 carriage in gloomy displeasure, and a {^^ minutes 
 later he found himself wondering at his recent 
 agitation. The pains had left him, and he had no 
 longer any desire for food. " After all," he thought, 
 " hunger is not so terrible ; doubtless people get used 
 to it, and don't mind it much." 
 
 At any rate, for the remainder of the journey the 
 millionaire did not have a recurrence of the plebeian 
 pangs, and he endeavoured with some success to take 
 an interest in the ordinary contents of his newspaper. 
 At length Euston was reached, and Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith stepped on to the platform with a feeling of 
 relief He seemed to have been imprisoned with so 
 many causes of resentment that he had long since 
 regarded his compartment with as much love as a 
 prisoner bestows on his cell. 
 "Cab, si-?" 
 " No I " 
 
 " Fetch your bag, sir ? " 
 " No I " 
 
 The millionaire growled out the negative to keep 
 himself from saying, 
 " I wish to heaven you could." 
 He hurried out of the station to get away from the 
 
32 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 army of touts. It annoyed him to see so many people 
 gettmg into cabs and driving away looking happy and 
 cheerful in the enjoyment and anticipation of pleasure 
 or serious in the pursuit of business. He was at first 
 inchned to engage a hansom to the Hotel Cosmopolis 
 but it struck him that it might lead to further humili ' 
 ation to detain the cab at the door while he negotiated 
 the paltry fare, and so he determined to grin and bear 
 the absurd misfortune in which he found himself. 
 
 It was not the first time the millionaire had been 
 in London, but it was the first time he had found 
 himself under the necessity of inquiring his way 
 This he was compelled to do in the present case, and 
 he applied to a policeman. 
 
 " Hotel Cosmopolis ! Oh, yes, sir." said the con- 
 stable. " It 's by Charing Cross. You 'd better take 
 a 'bus. This one comin' along '11 take you to the 
 corner of Tottenham Court Road, and then you can 
 get another '11 take you straight to the Cross. It's 
 only tuppence, sir." 
 
 A 'bus! The millionaire had never in his life 
 ridden in or on a 'bus, and never thought it at all 
 possible that he should ever contemplate travelling 
 by such a conveyance. Now it was an impossible 
 luxury. 
 
 " I prefer to walk," he replied, "if you will be good 
 enough to direct me." 
 
 i 
 
HUNGRY 
 
 33 
 
 "You '11 find it a long walk, sir." 
 " I like long walks." 
 " It "s longer 'n you think, sir." 
 "Excuse me," said the millionaire deprecatingly, 
 " but you cannot possibly know what I 'm thinking." 
 "Oh, very well, sir," said the constable, with a 
 pained expression ; " but you '11 miss this 'bus." 
 " I have no intention of taking the 'bus. If you '11 
 
 only tell me where Charing Cross lies " 
 
 " Well, all right, sir. Go straight along till you 
 come to Tottenham Court Road ; then turn to the 
 left, and keep on till you come to it. But I'm sure 
 you 'd better take the 'bus." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you," said the millionaire, 
 "and I am quite certain I had best walk." 
 
 With a sprightly step Mr. Pownceby-Smith went 
 along the Euston Road. In half an hour or so, he 
 thought, he would have reached his destination, and 
 forgotten his troubles in the discussion of a hearty 
 lunch. He had to a large extent recovered his spirits, 
 and found himself making a mental comparison of 
 the difference between the aspect of London presented 
 by the Euston Road and the outlying districts of 
 New York. 
 
 Suddenly he halted, and turned hungrily towards 
 a window on which steam was hanging in a cloud 
 concentrated here and there into heavy drops. It 
 
n 
 
 34 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 
 *r 3ii 
 
 was an ordinary eating-house, and joints of cooked 
 meat and various other eatables were displayed on 
 the metal bench inside the window. The millionaire 
 pressed his forehead against the glass to look long- 
 ingly at the food so aggravatingly out of reach. It 
 was not daintily or even temptingly displayed, but it 
 was good, wholesome, honest food, and the horrible, 
 maddening, gnawing pangs of hunger had come back 
 to him suddenly and more aggravatingly than when 
 they had previously driven him almost frantic with 
 an unappeasable longing. He could hardly restrain 
 himself. He felt almost impelled to batter in the 
 window to get at the food, and in realizing the 
 madness, the impossibility of this, he nearly cried 
 aloud in the anguish of a disappointment which was 
 tinged with rage. 
 
 The madness of this strange longing and almost 
 desperation lasted for a few moments only, but in 
 its keenness he experienced possibilities of human 
 emotions no amount of theory could have made him 
 believe possible. Even when the paroxysm passed 
 he had to exercise all the strengh of his will to drag 
 himself away from the mere animal fascinations of 
 that window. And as he turned away he noticed 
 that a man in rags— a man of about his own age, with 
 dirt-encrusted skin and matted hair, a man whose 
 emaciated features conveyed to Mr. Pownceby^Smil 
 
 uu 
 
'•^V^-;^ 
 ■^- 
 
 HUNGRY 
 
 s of cooked 
 isplayed on 
 ; millionaire 
 > look long- 
 f reach. It 
 ayed, but it 
 he horrible, 
 come back 
 than when 
 rantic with 
 dly restrain 
 tter in the 
 alizing the 
 early cried 
 which was 
 
 md almost 
 ily, but in 
 of human 
 made him 
 sm passed 
 '^ill to drag 
 nations of 
 le noticed 
 1 age, with 
 lan whose 
 
 35 
 
 a meaning he would not have understood the previous 
 day— was gazing in through the window at the display 
 of food with just the same longing the millionaire 
 had himself experienced but a moment before. 
 
 After a few moments the poor wretch turned away, 
 and the millionaire looked after him with a curious 
 interest. Perhaps he was unconsciously parodying 
 an anciently-expressed thought, and was saying to 
 himself, " There, but for the mercy of Heaven, goes 
 Reuben Pownceby-Smith ! " Anyway, he watched 
 him, and then to his horror he saw him pick up a 
 dirty crust of bread from the gutter and munch it 
 ravenously as he shuffled away. Two well-dressed 
 youths who were passing along saw the man pick 
 up the crust, and they burst out laughing. 
 
 " What an old dodge,'^ said the elder of the two in 
 the millionaire's hearinij. 
 
 " It is not a dodge, sir," exclaimed Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith indignantly ; " I'd swear the man is hungry." 
 " Then he should work and not loaf about," said 
 the stranger superciliously, while his companion stared 
 at the millionaire with contemptuous suspicion. Then 
 they both passed on, laughing all the more at the 
 incident because it had been so absurdly capped. 
 
 The millionaire was silent. The stranger had said 
 exactly what he would himself have said— yesterday! 
 Resides, it was m/ra dig. to address a stranger so 
 
 m 
 
36 
 
 A PAUPEk :.!ijxionaire 
 
 rudely, and it was absurd of Reubei. Pownceby- 
 Smith, the New York millionaire, to take on himself 
 the role of a loafer's advocate. He walked on very 
 sharply, feeling that the sooner he was installed at 
 the Hotel Cosmopolis the better it would be for him. 
 It was strange that a state of temporary poverty 
 should be concurrent with thoughts and actions so 
 entirely foreign to his views and disposition. Could 
 it be, he wondered, that there is a subtle connection 
 between one's opinions and the state of one's pocket ? 
 
 N 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE BEGS FOR BREAD 
 
 ' I "HE millionaire found his way to Charing Cross 
 J- without much difficulty, and as the Hotel Cos- 
 mopolis looms prominently on the view when you 
 enter the square, he felt comparatively happy as he 
 passed the dangerously irregular steps of St. Martin's 
 Church. 
 
 " In a few minutes," he thought, " I shall be able 
 to laugh at my curious experiences." 
 
 But millionaires, no more than mice, are exempt 
 from forming plans that "gang agley," and it was 
 considerably more than a few minutes before Mr. 
 Pownceby-Smith was in any humour for laughing. 
 
 A giant in rather sombre livery directed Mr. 
 Pownceby-Smith to the office. 
 
 " My name is Pownceby-Smith," he explained to 
 the goddess in curls an J cuffs who presided over the 
 massive tomes, and lest she might not perfectly grasp 
 the newly-added dignity of the hotel he spelt it for 
 
 sr 
 
38 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 
 t'-} 
 
 her—" Mr. Pownceby-Smith, of New York. A suite 
 of rooms is engaged for me." 
 
 "There's some mistake, sir," replied the goddess; 
 " I 'm sure there 's no suite of rooms in that name. 
 Besides, we 're quite full." 
 
 "But my rooms were cabled for," said the 
 millionaire ; " I 'm sure they 've been taken. I came 
 across in the Livania, and my luggage all came on 
 yesterday— all, that is, except one bag." 
 
 The curls were bent over the books, but the result 
 of a search was to the same effect The curls were 
 shaken and the goddess once more declared that no 
 abiding place had been arranged for Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith, "or any such name," at the Hotel Cosmopolis. 
 "But what about my luggage?" asked the 
 millionaire. "It was all sent on here from the 
 Livaniar 
 
 "I'll ask the manager, sir," replied the goddess. 
 " I don't know anything about it." 
 
 A heated colloquy with the telephone ensued, 
 which seemed to be made up mainly of interrogative 
 exclamations. When this was over, the goddess 
 touched a bell which conjured up a page-boy. 
 
 "You'd better see the manager, sir, and explain," 
 said the goddess. And Mr. Pownceby-Smith was 
 led to the manager's office. 
 " I am. Mr. Pownceby=Sm: ;h, of New York," said 
 
X. 
 
 RE 
 
 ork. A suite 
 
 the goddess ; 
 n that name. 
 
 r," said the 
 
 ken. I came 
 
 all came on 
 
 Jut the result 
 le curls were 
 ared that no 
 *. Povvncebj'- 
 Cosmopolis. 
 asked the 
 e from the 
 
 the goddess. 
 
 one ensued, 
 
 interrogative 
 
 he goddess 
 
 o^e-boy. 
 
 nd explain," 
 
 -Smith was 
 
 X urk, saia 
 
 BEGS FOR BREAt) 
 
 39 
 
 the millionaire to the manager, " and a suite of rooms 
 was engaged for me by cable." 
 
 "We have many cables, sir," said the manager 
 suavely, "and I cannot remember the one you 
 mention. But in any case we have not had a spare 
 bed for more than a month. London is very full, sir, 
 very full, sir, indeed." 
 
 " And do you mean to say that you cannot accom- 
 modate me ? " 
 
 "I am very sorry, sir, but that is exactly the 
 position." 
 
 " This is — this is extremely awkward. You surely 
 know me, sir, by reputation ; Mr. Pownceby-Smith, 
 of New York." 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir, I daresay I have heard the name," 
 replied the manager; "but it is utterly impossible 
 for me to find room for you, as the hotel is quite 
 full." 
 
 " Then where is my luggage ? It was addressed to 
 me here." 
 
 " It must IittVe been sent back." 
 
 " To New York ? " shrieked Mr. Pownceby-Smith. 
 
 "Oh. no, sir, only to the railway station. If it 
 came here, you will no doubt find it at Huston. You 
 won't have much trouble, sir. Perhaps you can find 
 room at another hotel, and you can wire them to 
 send your luggage on at once." 
 
'f '^W"' 
 
 ttH 
 
 r'i i" 
 
 i ir ■III 
 
 r\ 
 
 
 40 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith was desperate. He nerved 
 himself, and related his misfortunes to the manager, 
 who listened most im.patiently. Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith did not notice the impatience, and he was far 
 from understanding it. He concluded by asking the 
 manager to advance him some money until he had 
 got out of his most stupid dilemma. 
 
 The manager was sympathetic, but was obliged 
 to decline on principle. He never advanced money 
 to strangers. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith ui-ged a reconsideration of 
 his decision, and pointed out that he was unable to 
 ride to his bank or to Euston to inquire about his 
 luggage, and it was quite impossible for him to cable 
 to his friends in New York. 
 
 "Can you not see, sir," said the manager, in a 
 slightly irascible tone, "that your story won't wash 
 with me? Why, I hear better yarns than that every 
 day. New York millionaires don't come to London 
 penniless, and if ever they do, they know where to 
 go." 
 
 "So do I," said Mr. Pownceby-Smith. 
 "Then you'd better go there," said the manager 
 shortly. 
 
 " I might go to the American Minister," said the 
 millionaire, smothering his wrath ; " but I tell you I 
 have not a penny in mv Docket." 
 
 ;ii 
 
BEGS FOR BREAD 
 
 41 
 
 e manager 
 
 "Nor have I," said the manager, "to give away to 
 such as you. I must ask you to leave me at once." 
 
 " Let me at least have some food," said the 
 millionaire. The manager significantly touched a 
 bell. " I tell you, man, that I am literally famishing 
 merely for want of food. You cannot realize why 
 I ask ; that I am almost starving." 
 
 "There are thousands really starving in the 
 streets," said the manager. "Do you think that I 
 keep open house in this hotel for every hungry 
 tramp who cares to come in and waste my time with 
 a cock-and-bull story such as yours ? " 
 
 At this moment a stalwart porter entered the room. 
 
 "See that this person leaves the hotel," said the 
 manager turning to resume a letter he was writing. 
 
 " Now, mister, come along ; out you git," said the 
 porter. 
 
 And the millionaire got out. 
 
 As Mr. Pownceby-Smith stood on the pavement 
 outside the great entrance to the Hotel Cosmopolis, 
 his brain was in such a whirl that he did not know 
 which way to turn. He was not, however, left under 
 the necessity of deciding, as a burly policeman, inter- 
 preting his duty traditionally, commanded him to 
 " Move on ! " and emphasized the instruction by a 
 shove which sent the millionaire's head jerking 
 backwards and nearly knocked off his hat 
 
 I 
 
 i I 
 
 m 
 
!- t 
 
 ! i 
 
 u 
 
 42 A PAUPER MILLlONAmE 
 
 "How dare you." exclaimed Mr. Pownceby-Smith 
 indignantly. " Do you know who I am ? " 
 
 "The Markiss o' Sawsberry, I suppose," replied 
 the policeman, sending a small boy and two cabmen 
 into shouts of laughter ; " but you just clear or I 'II 
 soon show you." 
 
 The policeman's language was vague, but his 
 
 meaning was obvious. The millionaire hurried 
 
 across the street, and did not pause until his steps 
 
 were impeded by the surging throng in the Strand. 
 
 The grim humour of this situation struck him for 
 
 a moment, and he laughed, but the exercise seemed 
 
 to recall the horrible pangs he had experienced in 
 
 the Euston Road. 
 
 "Do you know who I am?" he had asked the 
 policeman; and he reflected mournfully that unless 
 the knowledge reached someone by inspiration, or 
 in some other unlooked-for way, in a very short time, 
 the extremity of hunger from which he was suffering 
 might have serious results. The indignity to which 
 he had been subjected at the Hotel Cosmopolis 
 had almost stunned him. In his whole life he had 
 never experienced anything approaching it before. 
 Frequently he had been hooted in public, and in 
 certain newspapers he was constantly derided, but 
 nothing of this sort had ever given him the slightest 
 annoyance. Whenever he paid such thines any 
 
RE 
 
 vnceby-Smith 
 ?" 
 
 pose," replied 
 
 two cabmen 
 
 ; clear or I '11 
 
 ?ue, but his 
 aire hurried 
 itil his steps 
 » the Strand, 
 ruck him lor 
 rcise seemed 
 perienced in 
 
 i asked the 
 that unless 
 spiration, or 
 r short time, 
 ^as suffering 
 ty to which 
 Cosmopojis 
 life he had 
 ? it before, 
 •lie, and in 
 ended, but 
 lie slightest 
 :hings any 
 
 BEGS FOR BREAD 
 
 43 
 
 attention they only acted as an incentive to some 
 new luxury. He knew now that the troubles of 
 annoyance are minimized if you can fly from them 
 in a well-cushioned carriage to forget them at a well- 
 appointed dinner. And how different the position, 
 too, when every force which regulates the State is 
 at your service, instead of regarding you as a fit 
 subject for the solicitude of punishment. Yesterday 
 every livery-wearer of civilization was eager to wipe 
 the boots of the well-known millionaire; to-day every 
 one of them apparently had nothing but a jeer and a 
 disrespectful objurgation for the penniless unknown. 
 
 It was all so strange and so annoying to Mr. 
 Pownceby - Smith, that he needed the promptings 
 of his stomach to save him from falling into a fit of 
 profitless moralizing. At the same time, he was 
 almost too dazed to think, and the pushing, surging, 
 laughing, eager crowd all round him whipped his 
 brain into a yet wilder whirl. Mechanically, and 
 almost with a sigh of relief, he turned out of the 
 throng into the comparative quiet of the enclosure in 
 front of Charing Cross Railway Station. 
 
 "Box o' lights, sir? "said a street gamin, holding 
 his stock-in-trade up for inspection with one hand, 
 while with the other he munched a crust of bread. 
 The millionaire did not look at the matches; he 
 looked at the bread, and with an effort 
 
 i;, 
 
 ji > 
 
 t 
 11 
 
 passed on. 
 
 f I 
 
■f ir 
 
 ■ ) 
 
 44 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 What was he to do? What should he do ? Goto 
 Kuston for his luggage! Where could he puf it? 
 Go to the American Minister! That was a good 
 .dea! Better still, go at once to the bank and get 
 money ; plenty of money ! Of course, that was the 
 thmg to do. He had been so annoyed bv those 
 clumsy, thick-headed brutes at the Hotel Cosmopolis 
 that he had overlooked his most obvious course for 
 a moment. But he thought it best not to take a cab 
 as the manager might, perhaps, be out, and so he' 
 decided to inquire the way. and walk. 
 
 The millionaire was beginning to pay attention to 
 tnfles. which, up to yesterday., had no meaning for him 
 In haste to put his rt olution into effect, he strode 
 across the paved yard-and was sworn at by a cab- 
 man for narrowly escaping being run over-to a 
 policeman to inquire the direction of the bank it 
 required a crushing deep down in his breast of a 
 very natural feeling of resentment before he could 
 bring himself to address the inquir, to a policeman 
 so soon after being so grossly insulted by another 
 member of the force. 
 
 "It's some distance from here. sir. you'd better 
 cake " 
 
 "A 'bus," interrupted the millionaire, with some 
 asoenty. " But I don't want to take a 'bus. or a cab 
 or any other conveyance. I want to walk." 
 
BEGS FOR BREAD 
 
 45 
 
 "Very well, sir," said the policeman, with that air 
 of wounded feelings which only a policeman can 
 assume to perfection, " if you do want to walk " 
 
 " I do want to walk ! " said the millionaire. 
 
 "You can turn to the right, and keep straight on, 
 and you will come to it. But the 'bus is only a 
 penny," he shouted, for the millionaire, with a nod of 
 conventional gratitude, was already on his way to 
 the bank. 
 
 The days when banks cultivated cobwebs and 
 retirement are gone, and now, when they are as 
 noticeable as beer palaces, it was not difficult for the 
 millionaire to find the one he was seeking. Pushing 
 open the heavy swinging doors, he addressed the 
 first disengaged clerk he saw. 
 
 " The manager 's very busy, sir, just now," replied 
 the official, with a courtesy which proved that he was 
 not in Government employ. 
 
 " Then he is in ? " replied the millionaire. 
 
 " Oh yes, sir, he is in, but I fear he is engaged and 
 will be unable to see anyone." 
 
 " I am. sure he will endeavour to see me," said the 
 millionaire. " I am Mr. P'y-Smith, of New York." 
 
 " I '11 go and see, sir, but I fear he is too busy. 
 Have you a card, sir ? " 
 
 " No, I have, unfortunately, not got my card-case, 
 but I will write my name." 
 
 m 
 
46 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 The mllHonaire wrote his name on a shp of paper 
 and handed it to the clerk, who glanced at it and 
 elevated his eyebrows sh'ghtly. 
 
 "Mr. />>-Smith, sir?" 
 
 "That is how it is pronounced, but I have written 
 It as It IS spelt." 
 
 " Thank you, sir." 
 
 The clerk entered an inner office, and returned in 
 a few minutes. 
 
 " Will you please walk this way, sir ? " 
 The power of his name had regained some of 
 Its old spell, and the ^nillionaire elevated his chin 
 in something of the old style as he obeyed the 
 deferential summons ; but his air had not quite re- 
 gamed its pristine assurance, for he still suffered 
 from recurring pangs which somewhat decreased his 
 stature. 
 
 The manager rose as he entered the room and 
 courteously motioned him to a chair. 
 
 "You are aware ." the millionaire begai, and 
 
 then stumL d over the sentence. " I have sent you 
 in my name." 
 
 "I understand," replied the manager, "that I am 
 speakmg to Mr. Pownceby-Smith " 
 " Yes." 
 
 "And what can I have the pleasure of doing for 
 you ? " ** 
 
BEGS FOR BREAD 
 
 47 
 
 " I presume you have had instructions from New 
 YorU— from my bankers?" 
 
 "Oh, certainly," reph'ed the manager, "we are 
 entirely at your service !" 
 
 The millionaire drew a deep breath of relief, and 
 stretched out his logs. 
 
 "I have called on you at once," he explained, 
 "because an unfortunate accident has happened to 
 me. My bag, in which I carried what ready money 
 I had by me, was either lost or stolen on the journey. 
 I am in want of some money at once." 
 
 "Well, of course, we shall act implicitly on the 
 instructions we have received, and shall have much 
 pleasure in honouring your commands to any extent. 
 If you hand '"^ a ch. tjue " 
 
 "That is the unfortunate part of it. My cheque- 
 book was also in the bag." 
 
 "Well, of course, such accidents are extremely 
 probable " 
 
 "Surely, sir, there is no question of doubting 
 me?" 
 
 And there was no such intention in the manager's 
 mind up to that moment. 
 
 "There is no question of any criticism," he replied 
 suavely, "but it is our duty to our customers, as a 
 whole, that we should take pains to establish the 
 legitLnfiacy of every demand which reaches us. Of 
 
 H. 
 
 ifi f' 
 
 
 
 
 
 'i 
 
 
 . * 
 
 ' ' W' 
 
 ! 
 
 ''' 't 
 
 . 1 
 
 ;;« r ^ 
 
 
48 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 course, there can be no difficulty in the way of your 
 estaWishing your identity. You must, for instance, 
 
 have some letters on you -" 
 
 "No. sir, I have not," said the millionaire, a cold 
 sweat at the prospect of further delay breaking out 
 all over him. " Never anticipating any such dilemma 
 as this, I destroyed the few letters I had in my 
 pocket and threw the pieces out of the window of 
 the railway carriage." 
 
 "And you have absolutely nothing on you to help 
 in establishing your identity?" 
 " Nothing— of that sort." 
 " Have you anything, of any sort ? " 
 The millionaire rose from his chair and placed his 
 hand trembling with anxiety on the desk. 
 
 "Let me tell you the whole facts of the journey 
 and the misfortunes that befell me, and then let your 
 own common sense judge if I am telling the truth." 
 
 " It is useless doing that, sir,'-' said the manager, 
 with a shade of impatience creeping into his urbane' 
 voice. " I do not question the truth of your story in 
 the least, and the fact that you present yourself under 
 such a distinguished and respected name as you— you 
 claim, is a sufficient inducement to me to help you to 
 the very best of my power; but the fact that you 
 make such a_well, such a startling claim and in such 
 an unusual and informal manner, makes it my plain 
 
BEGS FOR BREAD 49 
 
 'duty to be sure of my gi'ound. Why, sir, if I had 
 any fair reason to credit your statement that you are 
 'iWr. Fownceby-Smith, I would honour your draft for 
 twenty thousand pounds if necessary." 
 
 The miUionaire hastened with a sickening heart to 
 this exordium, which promised a further indefinite 
 postponement of the dinner for which he was longing 
 Then d -happy thought occurred to him and sent t 
 thrill of hope through his frame. 
 
 "You said you would honour my cheque. You 
 Have, of course, got a copy of my signature?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. Mr. Pownceby-Smith's signature was 
 sent over to us by his bankers." 
 
 ''Then let me sign one of your cheques, and 
 compare the signatures." 
 
 "*No, sir, I cannot do that, but a way out of the 
 
 difficulty has occurred to me. If you are really in 
 
 pre§si.:g want of the money, I will send one of my 
 
 ^ clerks with you to your hotel ; I will give him a note 
 
 to the manager." 
 
 " r am not stopping at a hotel. Can you not under- 
 stand that owing to the unfortunate loss of my bag I 
 
 hav6' not got a penny " 
 
 *• But surely your rooms were engaged beforehand?" 
 "We cabled to the Hotel Cosmopolis, but they 
 didn't have any rdoms to let." 
 
 " Then where 's your luggage ? " 
 o 
 
 rf 
 
 Hi* 
 
 m m 
 
 '■!( 
 
 
 r ' 
 
 it 
 
 I , ' 
 } 
 
50 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 :li 
 
 m 
 
 "At Euston. It went to the hotel and was sent 
 back again." 
 
 "Sir," said the manager, rising, "I neither doubt nor 
 accept your statement, but without something further 
 to go on it is impossible for me to help you. I must 
 make inquiries." 
 
 The millionaire paled with the agony of anxiety. 
 
 " Just realize, sir, what you are doing. You cannot 
 say that I am lying " 
 
 " I should not dream of doing so." 
 
 " You must admit the probability of its being true. 
 I swear to you that it is true, and I also swear to you 
 that I am starving and have not a penny." 
 
 "Sir, the matter is ended. As manager of this 
 bank I cannot help you, but in my private capacity 
 you are welcome to it, even if — if I never see you 
 again." 
 
 He pushed half-a-crown piece to the corner of the 
 desk. The millionaire went hot with a tide of con- 
 flicting emotions. The manager had commenced to 
 write a letter. The millionaire paused for a moment, 
 and then, stooping forward, he picked up the coin. 
 
 "You can call at twelve to-morrow," said the 
 manager, " and we shall doubtless be able to settle 
 the difficulty." 
 
 The millionaire was speechless. He could only 
 bow and, with heavy steps, leave the office. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE DINES "ALLY CART* 
 
 '"P^HE millionaire walked slowly out of the bank 
 •^ As he passed the counter, the clerk who had 
 taken in his name looked curiously at him. The 
 manager's alacrity to receive him promised a difterent 
 ending to the interview. The millionaire felt the 
 surprise he was exciting, and he tried to hasten his 
 steps, but his feet were as heavy as his heart. 
 
 When he got outside he felt for the half-crown. 
 Yes, it was safe enough in his waistcoat pocket, but 
 what was he to do with it ? He had never previously 
 looked at his money before examining a menu. Why, 
 
 if he had a bottle of the commonest claret But 
 
 the millionaire checked his absurd thoughts. Claret 
 was out of the queotion. He strode on, moodily 
 desiring to get away from the proximity of the 
 bank, and to discover as soon as possible some 
 eating-house, where the tariff was suited to the 
 amount of the benefaction he had received. Pre- 
 sently, turning up a by-street, he saw a shop, outside 
 
 5» 
 
 
 
 U^'i'W 
 
 1 
 i j I 
 
'ill 
 
 5^ 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 which a placard was posted announcing, in sprawling 
 letters, a table dhdte for one-and-sixpence. 
 
 The millionaire did not wait to examine the fare 
 provided. He was too ravenous to be critical, and 
 was satisfied with the assurance that whatever was 
 provided— he assumed it would be food, and hoped it 
 would be enough— would be covered by eigh teen- 
 pence ; so that even if he gave the waiter twopence he 
 would have tenpence left. 
 ^ "What will you have, sir?" asked the greasy 
 waiter; and the n\illionaire, assuming it to be the 
 .usual way of serving a table dTtdte in eating-houses of 
 this type, delivered himself of certain material and 
 very humble desires which proved how widespread 
 is the admiration for England's traditional staple 
 food. 
 
 The millionaire was not a teetotaller, and he felt 
 sadly in need of a stimulant, so he ordered a sedative 
 in the guise of beer. 
 
 One advantage the house boasted was the posses- 
 sion of a Post Office Directory. It was last year's 
 edition, to be sure, but then the chances were in favour 
 of the references being right, especially in the case of 
 the millionaire's quest, which was to find the address 
 of the American Minister. Doubtless had any change 
 of residence occurred it would have been noticed in 
 the New York papers, and would most likely have 
 
DINES "ALLY CART" 
 
 53 
 
 attracted Mrs. Pownceby-Smith's attention, and she 
 would have been sure to have mentioned it. 
 
 The millionaire felt so happy under the genial 
 influence of the dinner provided by alms that he 
 resigned himself to the luxury of five minutes' in- 
 dolence. Then he found himself, through utter 
 weariness, falling off to sleep. The fear of doing so, 
 when he realized it, awoke him thoroughly, and 
 pulling himself together he called out for his bill. 
 
 " Yussir," said the waiter, shuffling up with a point- 
 less pencil and a greasy slip of paper. " Fourteen, 
 eighteen, twenty-two, twenty-five— two an' a penni- 
 ser." And he handed the millionaire the greasy slip, 
 ornamented with undecipherable hieroglyphics. 
 
 The millionaire looked at the slip with a gasp of 
 astonishment. 
 
 "Isn't there some mistake?" he asked faintly. 
 *• I thought your dinner was only one-and-sixpence."^ 
 "One-an'-sixer! Ho, that's our tabble dot; but 
 you've 'ad a dinner 'ally cart' W'y didn t you 
 s'y you v^anted a tabble dot?" 
 
 " I naturally thought that when you advertised a 
 certain dinner I should get it." 
 
 "You can get hanythink by haskin' for it,'' said 
 the waiter loftily. "You hasked for a dinner 'ally 
 cart,' and you 've 'ad it, an' now you 've eot to o'y 
 for it." 
 
 M 
 
 ' ' ilfi 
 
III ;!ii' 
 
 i 
 
 54 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 The millionaire sighed, and handed the attendant 
 his solitary coin. 
 
 "Thark you, sir," said the waiter, pocketing the 
 half-crown, and shuffling across to a corner table, 
 where A couple of corpulent Germans were drinking 
 pyramids of lager beer. The millionaire looked after 
 the queer-looking figure, which, at another time, might 
 have suggested to him the limited achievements of 
 character-portrayal in contemporary histrionics, but 
 which now only frightened him with the fear that he 
 was watching a cunning rascal, who had predatory 
 designs on the only fivepence he could command. 
 He waited impatiently for the waiter's return, but it 
 brought with it no promise of payment, for that indi- 
 vidual passed him with a toneless whistle and a smile 
 of perfect satisfaction as he shuffled down to the 
 reeking counter to replenish the Germans' pyramids. 
 
 The millionaire looked anxiously at the waiter as 
 he returned with the lager, but that individual was 
 improvising a tuneless air for the benefit of the fly 
 colony on the smoky ceiling. The millionaire wps 
 getting desperately anxious. Minutes were precious 
 with him, but the waiter appeared to be quite un- 
 concerned. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith took up a tattered paper and 
 tried to read. But the waiter would not take the 
 hint ; he seemed bent on keeping the change. 
 
DINES "ALLY CART" 
 
 55 
 
 At last the millionaire, out of patience, called him. 
 
 " Yussir ! " 
 
 The waiter shuffled across the room with a sprightly 
 alacrity. 
 
 " I think, waiter," said the millionaire, with a pro- 
 pitiatory smile, " you have forgotten my change." 
 
 " Your change ! " returned the waiter, with an air of 
 blank astonishment. " Wot change ? " 
 
 "You have fivepence change," pleaded Mr. 
 Pownceby-Smith in a low voice. It was a sordid 
 transaction, and he did not want to attract the 
 attention of the Germans. " I gave you half a crown. 
 The bill was two-and-a-penny, so that you have five- 
 pence change." 
 
 "Well, s'help me if this doesn't tyke it!" said the 
 waiter, sending his greasy napkin flying under his 
 arm. "A ge'rnan give me a tip, an' then blowed if 'e 
 don't want to tyke it back again." 
 
 "I never gave you the fivepence," protested the 
 millionaire. " It was change which you should have 
 returned to me." 
 
 "An' 'ow do you think we're going to live?" asked 
 the waiter. 
 
 " I don't want to have any bother with you," said 
 the millionaire, " and you may keep twopence. It 's 
 quite bad enough that you beguile people in here on 
 the strength of misleading announcements." 
 
 
 '~ n 
 
 I \ 
 
 H'l 
 
lui^'i , 
 
 56 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 •"Ere, guv'nor," shouted the waiter, going off at 
 a trot towards the counter and addressing a bald-' 
 headed dumphng of a man who was bobbing about 
 lazily behind it. "this 'ere bloke ses a. 'ow you 
 decoys people in 'ere." ' 
 
 " Does 'e?" growled the dumpling, coming out of 
 h.s retreat, and rolling up towards the millionaire.' 
 I 11 soon see about that. "Ere, come >ou, git out." 
 But the millionaire's temper was roused, and he 
 dechned to be brow-beaten. 
 
 "I refuse to stir.' said he. enraged, "until I get my 
 money. I demand five^nce of my money, which ^ 
 th,s low fellow has stolen, and if I don't get it very ^ 
 shortly I '11 shout for the nearest policeman and give 
 you both into custody." 
 
 The waiter and the dumpling poured out on the 
 millionaire's devoted head a volley of choice epithets 
 but .t had no effect on him, and then the dumpling 
 ordered his satellite to surrender. The exact words 
 were : 
 
 " Chuck 'is bloomin' fivepence at 'im I " 
 The waiter threw the coppers on the table at a 
 spot where some soup had been spilled. The 
 miUionaires face flushed hot with anger, and for 
 a moment he felt inclined to try conclusions with 
 his enemy and force him to pick up the coins. Then 
 he reflected that time was precious, and so also were 
 
DINES "ALLY CART" 57 
 
 the coppers. He smothered his wrath, picked up the 
 fiv^ pennies, and, wiping them on the cleanest portion 
 of the cloth— this action had something of the joy of 
 reprisals about it— he pocketed them and went out 
 a scathing exhortation by the waiter falling unheeded 
 on his ears. 
 
 Fivepence! The millionaire counted and re- 
 counted them in his trousers pocket. Never before 
 had he found it so difficult to decide how he should 
 spend his money. However, unless ill-luck continued 
 to dog his footsteps, he would be all right when he 
 saw the American Minister. He knew him person- 
 ally, and had frequently met him in New York. 
 There was little doubt, if Mr. Pownceby-Smith found 
 him at home, he would be able to establish his 
 identity to his complete satisfaction. There were 
 many incidents in which they had both taken part 
 which could not be known to a stranger. And— 
 happy thought ! — there was that evening at 
 Langdon's, when McGrusely told the story of the 
 servant.wench and the looking-glass ! The million- 
 aire laughed as he remembered the story, which 
 no one but McGrusely would have ventured to tell. 
 If there were the faintest doubt of the genuineness 
 of his assertions, he had only to recall this story 
 to carry conviction. 
 
 He was very hopeful that his day of doleful 
 
 ■ !. -J i 
 1' ! i 
 
 i. 
 
 K '1. iJ 
 ■ |!fl 
 
 J.t =t 
 
 J.I ''PI 
 
 ■! !:'; I 
 
58 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 adventure would soon end merrily, and, in a hurry to 
 reach the Minister's house, he applied once more to 
 a policeman to be directed. 
 
 "I intend taking a 'bus," said he, to save the 
 policeman the trouble of offering the inevitable 
 advice. " I only want to know which 'bus I should 
 take." 
 
 "The red 'un, sir, will put you just down by the 
 place." 
 
 " Is the fare much ? " 
 
 •"Bout tuppence." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 Tuppence! He would still have threepence left 
 After all, his experience with the abusive waiter was 
 not without its reward. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith had never ridden in a 'bus, 
 and was ignorant of the acrobatic agility which con- 
 ductors expect in their mere male customers. Seeing 
 the red 'bus, which the policeman recommended, 
 looming in sight, he waited till it was near him, 
 and then he fidntically gesticulated to the driver, 
 who was looking almost everywhere except in his 
 direction. The conductor, however, saw him and 
 rang his bell. The 'bus slowed up. and the million- 
 aire waited at the kerb, expecting it to draw over 
 for him ; but it neither approached nor did it stop, 
 much to his surprise. 
 
DINES "ALLY CART" 
 
 59 
 
 "Ain't you cornin' on?" shouted the conductor; 
 and then the millionaire saw that he was expected 
 to run after it. He immediately dashed out in the 
 road, and narrowly escaped being knocked down 
 by a hansom. His awkwardness fn mounting tl.e 
 step might also have proved to an observant on- 
 looker that even the most ordinary exercises of 
 every-day life require some practice, for he did it 
 with much clumsiness. However, he only barked 
 his shins in the process. 
 
 When the conductor collected the fares, he found 
 that a journey to his distance cost threepence 
 However, that still left him with something to the 
 good, and so he purchased his passport with 
 opulent indifference. 
 
 The conductor, unfortunately, forgot to tell him 
 when they reached the nearest point to his destina- 
 tion, so that when he at length alighted he had to 
 retrace his steps for nearly a mile. However, he 
 reached the mansion of the minister at last, and 
 recognized it from some illustrations he had seen in 
 the New York journals. 
 
 He pulled the bell with a certain amount of 
 nervousness. After all, so much depended on the issue 
 that he could not suppress a feeling of agitation. 
 
 The door swung back after a few minutes, and a 
 man-servant stood in the opening. 
 
 
 
6^^ 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 w 
 
 "I '!• 
 
 i J 'I 
 J. 
 
 "I want .o see the American Minister on most 
 important business " 
 
 hea?' '"^""^•'■"'^'•'•"Pt^d ^'th a shake of the 
 
 J I really must see him." protested the millionaire. 
 It .s a matter of extreme urgency, and 1 am known 
 personally to him." 
 
 "If you'll only allow me to speak, ir." said the 
 servant, « I'll tell you that you can't, simp'ly because 
 the family's out of town." 
 
 " O"' of town ! '■ said the millionaire, and his heart 
 turned to .ce; and then mechanically, but conscious 
 
 » Wu ■'"P^'r™^' of "-e question, he asked wearily, 
 When are they expected back ? " 
 
 "Can't say, sir." replied the man, "but certainly 
 not this week." , 
 
 '•It's most unfortunate." said the millionaire. 
 
 Are you an American?" 
 
 "No. sir; I'm Henglish." 
 
 "That, too. is unfortunate, because I am well 
 known in New York ; and, through strangely unfore- 
 seen circumstances " 
 
 "Yes. sir. I know, sirj it's very hard, sir. I 'm sure." 
 And the servant prepared to shut the door 
 ^ JYou know?" said the millionaire, astonished. 
 How could you know?" 
 
 "By intooition, I suppose, sirj I sort of gue.s.=ed » 
 
DINES "ALLY CART" 
 
 6i 
 
 * I assure you I am one of the principal citizens of 
 New York." 
 
 " Yes, sir, I know ; and you Ve landed in London 
 without any money, but you are sure to have a 
 remittance in a few days. I know all about it, sir, 
 and it 's very ha d, thr.' it is." 
 
 "I can't imajir.^ how you could have known it," 
 said the millionaire, ho-^ng, after all, that the truth 
 had been somehov revealed, and that success was at 
 hand. 
 
 ** I knows it, sir," said the servant, grinning, " be- 
 cause it's an old story. I hear it over and over 
 again every day, and several times a day when the 
 family 's out of town. Good-day, sir. It's werry 'ard, 
 sir." 
 
 And the millionaire found himself standing with 
 his nose within an inch of the door, which had been 
 slammed to. 
 
 iiiii> 
 
 :w\ 
 
 ... : f 
 
■TTf^'f 
 
 CMAftfiR Vff. 
 THE MILLIONAIRE GOES "OVER THE WATER" 
 
 'T^HE millionaire, for the first time in that long, 
 -*■ eventful day, felt almost utterly disheartened. 
 Twopence, and only twopence, stood between him 
 and a recurrence of the horrible experience of that 
 morning. The sickening gnawing pangs of hunger, 
 the necessity to trudge through the streets because 
 
 he could not hire a conveyance, the 
 
 And then he suddenly remembered that he had 
 yet to face a homeless night. 
 
 Great heavens! What was he to do? And then 
 he pictured the possible occupation of his wife at 
 that moment, busy in all probability with prepara- 
 tions for the water-gala, on which a fortune would 
 be squandered. How strange to think that he was 
 as far removed f'-om his wife at the present moment, 
 so far as power of communication went, as if he were 
 dead. If he could only cable to her ! But then it 
 struck him that she would be certain to regard a 
 communication, the reply to which would have to be 
 
 6a 
 
 r^iii'!^ 
 
GOES "OVER THE WATER" 
 
 63 
 
 sent to a post-office, as a hoax. Still, if he could 
 only do it, the result would be certain to set inquiries 
 afoot which would speedily extricate him from his 
 dilemma. But a cable was as inaccessible as his 
 banking account! What could lu. do with two- 
 pence ? 
 
 And then he recalled the cynical Socialist, and his 
 words rang once more in his ears : 
 
 " Mind that you never find yourself penniless and 
 friendless in a great city, especially if it be a Christian 
 capital." 
 
 The thought had occurred to him before, and it 
 occurred to him now again : had the Socialist a super- 
 natural influence by which he brought about the 
 present dilemma to prove the truth of his assertion ? 
 But the millionaire was not superstitious, and he 
 dismissed the thought as absurd. 
 
 And, after all, was it true ? Was it a fact that in 
 the midst of millions of his fellow-creatures, and in 
 their very sight, it was possible for a man to starve ? 
 He would not believe it. Certainly, if a man chose 
 to starve in silence, it could not be helped, but if he 
 proclaimed his hunger he would be relieved. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith, in his aimless wandering, had 
 reached the railed inclosure of a quiet square, A 
 man was approaching him, and, acting on the spur 
 of the moment, he auurcssed him : 
 
 
 I 
 
 I ,: 
 
 ; .iiiiii.. 
 
64 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 " Excuse me, sir " 
 
 The man stopped. 
 
 " I am a well-known American citizen, and, by a 
 strange series of mischances, I have arrived in London 
 penniless " 
 
 The man laughed and walked on. 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith looked after him in amaze- 
 ment. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder, and, 
 turnmg. he was confronted by a buriy policeman. 
 
 "Just you clear hoff. an' let's 'ave no more of that 
 game yere, or you 'II be run in ; d' ye year .? " 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith cleared off rapidly, m had 
 no intention of disproving the Socialist's position at 
 the risk of being " run in " for begging. 
 
 When he was out of sight, he again tried to find 
 some way out of the difficulty that faced him. It 
 was growing late, and he must decide quickly. 
 
 It was useless, he thought, going to Euston and 
 endeavouring to secure his luggage. If he faile 1 to 
 convmce the manager of a bank, in a coolly-rea ;oned 
 argument, of his identity, he despaired of succeeding 
 with an ordinary porter amid all the bustle and con- 
 fusion ol a railway station. There was just one hope 
 for him. It was a resource he placed last, because it 
 was one which needed some resolution to adopt. He 
 would go to 33, Marsh Parade, Lambeth, S.E. He 
 remembered distinctly the address that was given 
 
 n. 
 
GOES "OVER THE WATER" 65 
 
 him in Liverpool, and although he had a certain 
 feeling of revulsion against following up the trail so 
 as to receive assistance, yet he argued that he was 
 in the position of a famine-stricken man in a besieged 
 city, who must sink ordinary considerations ; or, in 
 the more general form, that he must hold to the 
 maxim, " necessity knows no law." 
 
 He had no idea of the direction he was seeking, 
 but he refrained from addressing that peripatetic 
 encyclopaedia, the policeman, and inquired of a 
 passer-by. 
 
 . " Marsh Parade ! Never 'eard of it." 
 
 "Marsh Parade, Lambeth!" ventured the mil- 
 lionaire. 
 
 "Oh, Lambeth! That's over the water. You'd 
 better take a Westminster 'bus. 'Ere 's one coming." 
 
 What a hankering the average Londoner has for . 
 'bus, the millionaire thought. But, although it was a 
 risk— with twopence—to chance it, he hailed the 
 driver, and managed to get on without slipping more 
 than once. 
 
 "At the worst," he thought, "I can inquire the 
 fares, and go as far as twopence will take me." 
 
 He found that it was sufificierit to carry him to 
 Westminster Bridge, and as the conductor informed 
 him that this was within five minutes' walk of Marsh 
 Parade, he congratulated himseKon his luck. 
 
 t; ,. 
 
 1 . 
 
 M I 
 
 V*l 1 
 
 fi" 
 
M 
 
 IW' 
 
 66 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 The Parade was a wonderful and fearsome place. 
 On either side along the gutters it was lined with 
 barrows, which were loaded with merchandise of every 
 description, from old clothes to stale vegetables, from 
 odd books to odd crockery. 
 
 The millionaire had pictured a row of quiet 
 dwellings facing the river— all his previous ideas of 
 parades had been associated with sea-fronts— so that 
 he was taken completely by surprise. But he was 
 getting accustomed to the unexpected, and so he 
 threaded his way through the tumult looking for 
 " 33." 
 
 It was a small newspaper shop, which also extended 
 its energies from the dissemination of ephemeral 
 literature to the sale of sweetstuff and cheap cigar- 
 ettes. The millionaire entered the little shop, and 
 waited while the fat woman behind the counter 
 succeeded, after much exertion, in reaching a box 
 on an upper shelf from which to provide a small boy 
 with a penny card of tools, which he doubtless wanted 
 for the pursuit of some branch of technical education. 
 When he had gravely rejected half a dozen cards, 
 and finally decided on a purchase, unaware that it 
 was one he had already examined, the millionaire 
 made his inquiry. 
 
 " Ain't bin 'ere for a fortnight," replicJ t' i /oman. 
 " There 's two letters bin a-waitin' for 'er oeveral d'ys." 
 
GOES "OVER THE WATER" 
 
 67 
 
 "Doesn't she live here?" asked the milh'onaire. 
 
 " Oh no, on'y 'as 'er letters sent 'ere. She calls for 
 'em. The lydy 's on the stage, ain't she ? " 
 
 " No," said the millionaire, scarcely listening to the 
 woman's question, the terrible fact oppressing him 
 that now even that last two^nce was spent ; that he 
 would soon again be very hungry — his appetite was 
 already keen! — and that he had no idea how or where 
 he could sleep that night. " D n't you know where 
 she lives?" he asked desperately after a pauje, the 
 worr-^n eyeing him curiously. 
 
 " Lor' blesh you, I 'ave no idea," she replied. 
 "Loads of people 'ave their letters haddressed 'ere, 
 but I never knows where they lives. W'y, that 's, in 
 course, w'y they don't 'ave their letters at 'ome — so 
 that nobody should know. I 'opes there's nothin' 
 wrong, sir, is the. "• " 
 
 "There is, a very great deal. In fact, it's — it's most 
 annoying." 
 
 And the millionaire walked up and down the little 
 shop — a matter of two steps each way. 
 
 "You ain': a 'tec, sir, are you?" 
 
 " A detective ? Of course not." 
 
 "Well, you don't look like one, T must say," 
 returned the lady, who was on the tiptoe of curiosity. 
 " On'y I thought as 'ow the young lydy might 'ave 
 bin mykin' some mistyke, or the like " 
 
 .f: •'■, 
 
 flllll 
 
 ^i'l 
 
 4 .1' 
 
 ■;(; i 
 
 i 
 
68 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "No, no, it's nothing that way," said i?ie in^ilionafie. 
 " My good woman, you look kind-hearted, and you 
 will perhaps be able to advise me. i am quite at a 
 loss what to do, and the fact that I cannot fuid my— 
 my friend places me in a most awkward position. 
 Do you mind letting me tell you tih- facts, so that 
 you may perhaps be able to see some \my out of the 
 difikuity?" 
 
 "' T '!! do my werry hutmost, sir." said the fat lady, 
 beatnirtg with pleasure. " I 've bin in this shop for 
 more 'n thirty year, so I ought to kr;ow a thing or 
 two. If I can 'elp you, I will. Suppv,se you come 
 into my parlour, an' tell me hall abaht it quietly, 
 where we won't be hinterrupted." 
 
 "Thank you," said the millionaire, and the lady 
 waddled before him into an inner room, having lifted 
 a slab in the counter so that he might pass through. 
 
 The parlour was small, and seemed to be almost 
 quite filled by the opulent hostess and a glass shade 
 which covered a fearsome mound of waxen fruits and 
 flaxen flowers. The millionaire shrank into the 
 corner of a creaking sofa, and leant on the table, 
 gazing at his protectress as he prepared to unfold his' 
 woes. 
 
 "The position in a few words, ma'am" .^aid he, "is 
 this. I came from A merica yesterday, a i . i Instead of 
 
 coiriiiig cjT to London direct, I re: 
 
 IIP' 
 
 in Liverpool 
 
GOES "OVER THE WATER" 
 
 69 
 
 overnight. My luggage was sent on to the Hotel 
 CosmopoHs " 
 
 ' O Lor* ! " said the good lady. 
 
 " Rut when I arrived this morning I found that the 
 hotel was full, and that my luggage was sent back to 
 the station. But worse than all is the fact that a bag 
 I carried with me, and which contained my loose 
 money and other immediate necessaries, was either 
 lost or stolen. I may doubtless be able to recover 
 that at the station in the morning, or perhaps even 
 to-night, but in the meantime I am in the extra- 
 ordinarily unfortunate predicament that I have not a 
 single penny." 
 
 " Good Lor' ! " gasped the fat lady. 
 
 "I thought my friend was living here— I did not 
 think it was merely an address she used — and I came 
 to see her, feeling sure that she would assist me if I 
 could only find her." 
 
 " It 's 'ard, sir, werry 'ard." 
 
 "And now can you not advise me? Surely in — in 
 ordinary circumstances, I mean among people who 
 are not wealthy, it must often happen that they are 
 in want of money ; and when they are really hard up 
 — in fact, penniless— is there no resource ? " 
 
 " Oh, well, of course, there 's al'ays one." 
 
 "Then there is some resource," said the millionaire 
 eagerly, almost hopefully. " Pray tell me what it is." 
 
 S '1 
 
 ■ 
 
 'i 1I 
 
 '>' 1 
 
 1 
 
 \r ^ J 
 
 ■ ' ''I 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 % 
 
 1 
 
 
 ; :^?''li' 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 ■ ! li' Mil 
 
 :M 
 
 -m 
 
 1 
 
 ir:| 
 
 1 
 
 ■ 
 
Mi' if 
 ii 
 
 70 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 •• Well, there 's always the pawnshop." 
 
 ^ "The pawnshop?" echoed the millionaire inquir- 
 ingly. ^ 
 
 " Well, that 's abaht our only resource." said the fat 
 lady. " w'en we 're stony. Ain't you got anything you 
 can pawn ? 'Ave you a watch ? " 
 
 '' No," said the millionaire. " I never carry a watch." 
 " Nor no studs, or sleeve-links ? " 
 " They are quite plain-in fact almost valueless. I 
 was always opposed to ostentation." And his mind re- 
 verted in a curiously critical mood to Mrs. Pownceby- 
 Smith's water-gala, the cost of which would presently 
 excite so much more comment in the papers than its 
 artistic excellence. « Is there nothing else to be done?" 
 "There's on'y one thing that I can see." said the 
 fat lady, looking curiously across the table at him. 
 
 " Oh. tell me, please, what it is," said the millionaire 
 " No matter what it is, I will do it." 
 
 "Well, that is " 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " To pawn your duds." 
 
 "My duds! 1 fear I haven't any." said the mil- 
 honaire, sickening with dread of still further dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 " You are soft." said his companion, laughing herself 
 into a violent cough, which threatened to end her 
 
 existence. '• You dnn't l^nnw 'v'>-'- r ' 
 
 ....uv, TVxxnt yuur ctuas are— 
 
COES "OVER THE WATER" 
 
 7> 
 
 w'y they're your clothes, to be sure, an' they seem 
 jolly good stuff. You '11 be able to git a decent bit 
 on 'em." 
 
 •' But how on earth can I pawn my clothes ? " asked 
 the millionaire aghast. 
 
 *' Oh, well, beggars carn't be choosers, as the s'yin' 
 is, if you '11 forgive me for mentionin' it." 
 
 " Please understand me," said the millionaire. " I 
 have no objection to pawning my clothes, but — but 
 — is it possible? I can't go about the streets — 
 without them." 
 
 "Oh, I see," said the lady; "but you can easy 
 pawn them for a suit of clothes and the difference 
 in money." 
 
 " But I couldn't take them off in the shop." 
 
 " I 'ave 'eard that they do keep dressin'-rooms — 
 but I '11 tell you wot I '11 do. I 'm real sorry for you, 
 an' I '11 let you tyke 'em hoff in my room an' I '11 go 
 rahnd m'self an' pop 'em for you. P'raps as they 
 knows me I m'y be able to git more on 'em than you 
 could. An' I '11 get you the best suit I can your size." 
 
 " Madam you are — you are — well, the nearest a; - 
 proach to an angel I 've seen since I 've left New 
 York." 
 
 " Oh, don't mention it, sir," and the fat lady blushed 
 from the wreathed coils of her neck to the greased 
 ringkis that surmounted her forehead. " if you go 
 
 ilH 
 
 ir 
 
 11 
 
 r 
 
 •! •,:* 
 
 ?*:■>.! 
 
 . f n' 
 
 i'SH 
 
 
 
7^ ^^ '"c:ii MILMONAIRE 
 
 hupstairs, if. the room over this; and you kin 'and 
 emhouttome. I'll myke a pa'cel of 'em an' git 
 someone to look after the shop w'ile I goes rahnd 
 the corner." 
 
 The milh-onaire required no pressing; but as it 
 was now quite dark his protectress furnished him 
 with a rickety lamp which filled the room with 
 smoke while dissipating the shadows. He hastened 
 to divest himself of his clothes, and when he had 
 his suit lying on the bed it occurred to him for 
 a moment to add to it his shirt, which was one 
 of superfine texture, feeling that he should want as 
 much money as it was possible to obtain He 
 wanted at least enough to secure food and shelter 
 for tile night, and to send a cable to New York 
 But as he felt for a moment tempted to do this he 
 remembered that his linen was marked " R P-S " 
 and he determined that he world not part with 
 this sole-remainingr mark f his identity. He had 
 no picture.., .ely distributed moles or ducal straw- 
 berry by which to establish his identity. Everything 
 especially coz^nccted with his personality was gone 
 save his shirt and collar— both marked »A P-3" 
 and with these therefore he was resolved not to part' 
 Hastily rolling his . he he held ther through 
 the door with outstr hec hand and cried out 
 "Ready!" ^' 
 
GOES "OVER THE WATER 
 
 73 
 
 His kindly hostess waddled laboriously up the 
 stairs and took them from him. 
 
 " I shan't be long," said she, panting, " but it all 
 depends on the crowd. Sometimes you kin git 
 aw'y in a few minutes, at other times you're kep' 
 hever so long. 'Owever, I '11 be as quick as I kin, 
 hespecially has I shall be hanxious to git back to 
 the shop, w'ich is hai.ays busiest hof an hevening." 
 
 The millionaire thanked her, but in spite of his 
 gratitude he could not help feeling that if she only 
 economized her conversational powers she would 
 be able to return to her shop more speedily. 
 
 " I shall do my best to git as much has I can," she 
 recommenced ; " but I suppose I 'm to tyke it wotever 
 
 It IS. 
 
 " I 'm afraid we have no alternative," said the mil- 
 
 naire ; " but I want to get sufficient to cable to 
 New York as well as to meet my immediate wants." 
 
 " I '11 do my hutmost," she replied, " and the best 
 can't do no more, as the s'yin' is. You 'd better put 
 the blankits rahnd you w'ile I 'm aw'; or you '11 
 ketch cold." 
 
 "Thank you," said the millionaire. "You're ex- 
 ceedingly good, and I only hope your assistance 
 will enable me soon to repay your kindness as I 
 should like to." 
 
 ! 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 •!■! i] 
 
> J 
 .J i : 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE AS A SUSPECTED LOTHARIO 
 
 "pHE millionaire took a couple of blankets from 
 the bed, and arranging them as best he could 
 round him, he stood at the window watching the 
 varied sights of the gMtter - market in the street 
 outside. A vendor of books tested the powers of 
 his lungs against those of a retailer of umbrellas. 
 The one addressed all his eloquence to the beauty 
 of the covers and the abundance of the illustrations ; 
 while the other dilated on the glory of the handles! 
 The millionaire saw in this humble sample of in- 
 dustry a microcosm of the successful art and com- 
 merce of the world. After all, the discriminating 
 fish are but few, or angling would be a useless 
 pursuit ; and it is by the glint and form that favour 
 is gained, for the tasting only comes when the hook 
 has been swallowed. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith cast a swift glance over the 
 history of his millions, and he knew perfectly well 
 that the manner in which they were acquired was 
 
 74 
 
"'".&*> ' ' 
 
 A SUSPECTED LOTHARIO 
 
 75 
 
 by a judicious laudation of the covers and the 
 handles. The difference between him and the 
 itinerant auctioneers was one merely of method and 
 degree. 
 
 In a moment, however, his attention was diverted 
 from the business of life to its heroics. A buzz, a 
 turning of faces in the one direction, a crowd grow- 
 ing more compact towards the centre of interest, the 
 noise growing louder without acquiring articulateness 
 — in fact, a fight. Everyone was at once keenly in- 
 terested. The marketing housewife struggled through 
 the outer fringe of the crowd dragging a slattern 
 child with one hand and holding a bag of purchases 
 with the other, equally oblivious of the safety of 
 either : the umbrella and book vendors saw their 
 customers clear off with one general impulse, and 
 in the cessation of business managed somehow to 
 keep one eye on their wares and another on the 
 conflict. The millionaire shared the general excite- 
 ment, and was so interested in the fight that he let 
 one blanket slip ofif and the other slip down without 
 noticing that he was greatly in danger of catching 
 an extreme chill. 
 
 The combatant*? 'vere two rough-looking specimens 
 of the labouring? class, and the Trojan combat in 
 which they were engaged was one to be scored by 
 mischances rather than points. On their thick, un- 
 
 iHiiltj 
 
 R' 
 
( t 
 
 'it!. 
 
 vf'f 
 
 76 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRlfe 
 
 bending boots they rolled about in their insensate 
 fury more like huge wooden pins than human beings 
 possessed of activity or litheness. and more fre- 
 quently they found the earth by missing an op- 
 ponent than by receiving his blow. But the falls 
 and the clumsily-planted blows soon told, and their 
 unbeautiful features became heroically hideous by 
 the transfiguring effect of dirt, contusions, and 
 blood. 
 
 There is a potent fascination for onlookers in the 
 drawing of other people's blood and the infliction 
 of physical punishment. The greatest orator of 
 the day or the most popular cause would not at- 
 tract such a crowd as the intimation that a dose of 
 the nme-tailed cat would be administered in public 
 The secret of the charm in such things, which eluded 
 Anstotle when he tried to analyze the pleasure of 
 tragedy, is still as hidden as is the philosophy of 
 most facts that are equally obvious. 
 
 Physical pain is the only true cure for sensual 
 enjoyment, and after a while the millionaire was 
 chilled out of his interest in the fight; nor could 
 he rearrange his blankets in such a manner as to 
 recover the warmth he had lost. So he accepted 
 the common-sense view of the situation and got 
 into the bed. It was cold enough even there, but 
 
 at anv rate it wa<; a "re-^t in — r~ *. • - 
 
 i w__ d j^red imijiovciiicnt on classic 
 
i 1 'i 
 
 A SUSPECTED LOTHARIO 
 
 77 
 
 costume in a fireless room, and soon a pleasurable 
 glow began to course through his limbs. 
 
 The noise of the fight in the street had now sub- 
 sided greatly, and the phrases that were shouted 
 by the gamins and loafers were not of the exhortative 
 type, so that Mr. Pownceby-Smith concluded that 
 the combatants had reached the merely jangling 
 stage. 
 
 It seemed to him a considerable time now since 
 he had parted with his clothes, and he hoped that 
 his fair and fat deliverer would not be much longer. 
 He remembered, however, that her rate of progres- 
 sion was unquestionably slow, and he strove to 
 smother his impatience. He felt sure now that the 
 question of supper and bed was satisfactorily settled ; 
 whether he would have enough money to cable to 
 New York he did not feel quite so confident about ; 
 but at all events, when not oppressed by the con- 
 fusing, the brain-paralyzing fear of hunger, he would 
 be able easily to think his way cut of the difficulty. 
 Surely, at the worst he could claim police protection, 
 or demand some sort of an immediate legal inquiry 
 into his claims. 
 
 It would be so easy to prove that Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith did come from New York, which was primd 
 facie evidence of the truth of his statement, or else 
 must be taken to suggest the murder or disappear- 
 
 i ;! ■ 
 Mr 
 fi, 
 
 % 
 
 . i 
 
 \ 
 
 i 
 
 pi 
 
78 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 ,^'^! 
 
 ance of a well-known American citizen, that he felt 
 sure it must be easy to compel them to institute 
 inquiries. 
 
 Then ag^ain after a night's much-needed rest he 
 would be able to find some directory or visitors' 
 list from which he could ascertain what Americans 
 were in London, and among them it was surely 
 certain would be some who knew him intimately. 
 The millionaire thought that the morning would 
 dawn for him with happiness. But a period of 
 happiness was much nearer at hand, for his brain, 
 wearied with conjecture and speculation, ceased to 
 work, and he fell into a sound sleep and dreamt of 
 New York affluence. 
 
 '4, 
 
 "'Ere, blow me tight, Bill, if 'ere ain't a bloke in 
 yer bed ! " 
 
 The millionaire woke up with a start and rubbed 
 his eyes. He had been so sound asleep, and was 
 now so confused, that he could not realize his posi- 
 tion. Where was he? Had he experienced some 
 terrible nightmare of travels and troubles ? Was he 
 in New York, in his own bed and still under the 
 influence of the nightmare? Where had he seen 
 that horrid face before, all blood and mud-bespat- 
 ---_. /\n„ ,..en Jt all came back to him in a rush. 
 
A SUSPECTED LOTHARIO 
 
 79 
 
 He knew where he was, and in the horrid face 
 glaring at him by the light of the stifling lamp he 
 recognized one of the combatants in the recent 
 street-fight. Behind him was a companion, whose 
 face, not hidden by the mask of warfare, looked 
 even viler and more hideous. 
 
 " Well, you white-faced skunk, sneakin' into an- 
 other man's 'ome to rob 'im of 'is wife w'ile 'e 's hout 
 hearnin' a'-nonnest livin'. I 've a good min' to 
 chuck this lamp over you an' burn you an' the place 
 down to hashes." 
 
 " Put the lamp down, Tom," said the other, " an' 
 give 'im a good hidin'. You 've got yer 'and in nah, 
 an' w'en you 've done with 'im, I '11 break every bone 
 in 'is body." 
 
 "It's all a mistake, friends," said the millionaire, 
 his teeth chattering with fright. "There isn't the 
 least harm in my being here " 
 
 "No 'arm, you " and the indignant Tom 
 
 handed the lamp to Bill in a significant manner. 
 'Wot 'ave you done with my missus?" 
 
 " Do for Heaven's sake let me tell you the facts," 
 said the millionaire, getting out of reach of Tom's 
 threatening fists and standing up shivering against 
 the wall at the furthest possible point. The sight 
 of a stranger in such limited raiiaent roused Tom 
 to a greater access of fury. 
 
 !h 
 
 
ll 'I • ! 
 
 
 'I 
 
 '! 
 
 80 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "S'help me, Bill, look at the swine; in 'is shirt 
 'Ere I '11 » 
 
 "For mercy sake don't assault me," shrieked Mr. 
 Pownceby-Smith. "I am undressed because my 
 clothes " 
 
 "I'll clothes you," shouted Tom. with a grim 
 earnestness, and darting across the bed he caught the 
 unfortunate millionaire, and dragged him down pre- 
 cipitately. Then he flew at his throat and throttled 
 him, assuring him all the time of his determination 
 to "clothes "him. 
 
 "They 're— they're— gone to be pawned," shrieked 
 the millionaire between his gasps ; but Tom was not 
 in the mood for explanations, and pursued his scheme 
 of vengeance doggedly. At length the millionaire 
 managed to wriggle out of his grasp and made for 
 the door, but Bill was acting as an aggressive sentinel, 
 and sent him flying backwards by a well-directed 
 blow on the chest. The infuriated husband, with 
 renewed vigour, recommenced to "clothes hirn," 
 while his companion volunteered a commentary of 
 advice, such as " Nah ! nah ! punch 'im in the jawr ! " 
 " Give 'im one in the bread-baskit ! " " Gow it ' eow 
 it!" ■ ^ 
 
 In the midst of the din, a voice was heard from 
 below, shrieking a series of voluble inquiries. The 
 almost fainting millionaire recognized, with a devout 
 
 U. i I 
 
A SUSPECTED LOTHARIO 
 
 8i 
 
 feeling of thankfulness, the voice of the fat lady, who 
 a moment later burst into the room, the tide of her 
 inquiries still outstripping all chance of intelligibility. 
 Her pugilistic husband relinquished his prey on her 
 arrival, and his encouraging second shrank into the 
 shadows of a corner. It was evident that the fleshly 
 lady exerted no small influence in her home. 
 
 The millionaire, rising, sat exhausted on the side 
 of the bed. The lady cast a glance at her husband, 
 and, seeing the state of his face, she concluded that 
 the stranger she had befriended and sheltered \ as 
 the cause of it, and with the fury of an enraged 
 tigress she waddled at him with a surprising speed. 
 
 " You wretch," she screamed, " an' I tried to do you 
 a kindness— to go an' knock my old man abaht ! " 
 
 But Tom, although he had done his best to knock 
 the stuffin', as he phrased it, out of the millionaire, 
 saved him from being further maltreated under a 
 fresh misapprehension, and explained the circum- 
 stances under which he had given his outraged 
 feelings full play. 
 
 "Think 'e could knock me abaht like this!" he 
 exclaimed contemptuously; and then the wrathful 
 lady was iniorrn^d of the street fight, whereupon 
 she pc^uic i t'le vials of her wrath on her husband 
 and his fr.cnd with a warmth that was new to the 
 millionaire, but gave him immense satisfaction. 
 
 
 ! . ?: 
 
 m 
 
1r 
 
 ''i, 
 
 ' ir 
 
 I' 
 
 82 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 As to the maze that followed, the millionaire, when 
 afterwards in reflection he tried to piece it out, was 
 never quite clear. He was only clear .is to the issue, 
 which was that his aggressor was forced to apologize 
 to him ; that the friend was ignominiously expelled ; 
 and that the lady, as the result of her mission, gave 
 him a rather shabby suit of clothes that fitted him 
 badly, and a sovereign. 
 
 He thanked her most cordially and sincerely, and 
 forgave her husband, but he made as much haste as 
 he could from 33, Marsh Parade and its vicinity. 
 
 
!.l'' . ! 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 fciHiii 
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE LOSES CASTE. 
 
 ' I "^HE millionaire had not forgotten the direction 
 
 u . 
 
 i 
 
 from which he had reached Marsh Parade, and 
 
 when he left the little shop in which he had ex- 
 perienced such an unexpected adventure, he retraced 
 his steps quickly, nor did he pause till he reached 
 Westminster Bridge. 
 
 He noticed how dangerously, temptingly low the 
 parapet was, and as he looked over at the dark, 
 lapping waters on which the flicker of the gas-lamps 
 glittered fitfully, he realized for the first time what 
 suicide meant ; the child turning away tired or 
 fretful from its companions and courting sleep ; the 
 busy man wearied with business retiring to the quiet 
 of a cell. The millionaire, as he gazed at the water, 
 realized a state of mind in which a plunge into its 
 depths would be th^ peaceful medicine of oblivion. 
 
 Then he pulled himself up suddenly, and feeling 
 for the sovereign in his waistcoat pocket, he awoke 
 to the necessity for activiiiji . He had already wasted 
 
 lil 
 
 
r-: 
 
 84 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 
 full three minutes on morbid maunderings, trying to 
 extract pathos from the tragedy of trolls. 
 
 Big Ben at the moment tolled out ten o'clock. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith conjectured that it would 
 possibly be too late to cable at that hour, but after 
 all it might be wiser to find some quiet, inexpensive 
 hotel and put up for the night. He was mentally 
 exhausted ; to think was an exertion, and he would 
 be better able to discover a way out of his maze if 
 he waited till the morning, when he would be fresh 
 after a much-needed rest., 
 
 He hurried along by the Embankment until he 
 came to Hungerford Bridge. Then he turned up the . 
 Avenue, looking with indignation at the frowning 
 heights of the Hotel Cosmopolis as he hurried past. 
 
 He wondered if, when he should come into his 
 kingdom again, it would be worth his while to be 
 revenged on the manager and the stalwart porter 
 with the muscular arm and the big boot. Would 
 it not be a sweet revenge to purchase the hotel— if it 
 were possible to purchase it— and send them out bag 
 and baggage when they realized that their inexorable 
 master was the stranger they had subjected to such 
 ignominy ? 
 
 However, it was a matter for after-consideration. 
 The immediate business in hand was to secure a 
 suDoer and a bed for the nicrht 
 
 I; 
 
LOSES CASTE 
 
 85 
 
 He hurried along through the glaring streets, 
 expecting that soon he would reach the quieter 
 regions of the private hotel, and in this hope he was 
 not disappointed, for after some time he found him- 
 self in Bloomsbury. 
 
 He had a notion that a boarding-house would be 
 more expensive than a hotel, and as he felt that 
 a cable to New York was almost the only effective 
 method he could adopt of extricating himself from his 
 dilemma, he was determined to watch the expendi- 
 ture of every single penny of the two hundred and 
 forty which he had acquired at such a heavy cost. 
 
 He found at last the hotel which, judging from its 
 outward appearance, was just the sort of place to 
 suit his circumstances. The grimy lamps which 
 flickered on either side of the door bore the legend 
 "Brown's Temperance Hotel," and as Portsmouth 
 Terrace, in which Mr. Brown conducted his business, 
 was not a very imposing thoroughfare, he concluded 
 that the tariff must also be modest, not to say low. 
 He pushed the doors open and went in. There was 
 no appearance of an office, so he waited until he saw 
 one of the household. The individ-'al in question 
 was a slattern cross between a charwoman and a 
 cook. She was carrying a pile of plates in greasy 
 arms exhibited as far as the elbows. 
 
 ''Excuse me, my good woman," said tjie mil- 
 
 ! '/i 
 
ill 
 
 86 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 •if 
 
 I'm 
 
 lionaire, "can you tell me if there's a spare bed 
 in the hotel?" 
 
 " For you ? " asked the woman, eyeing him with a 
 sidelong glance from under her dishevelled " fringe." 
 
 " Yes, of course, for me ! " replied Mr, Pownceby- 
 Smith. 
 
 The woman burst into an unaccountable fit of 
 laughter. 
 
 " Well, I 'm sure I don't know if there 's a spare 
 bed — for you — but I '11 send the missus to you," and 
 with another laugh, and a look that was almost a 
 wink, 'Of disappeared. 
 
 Why did she emphasize the words "for you," the 
 miliiv,»naiie wondered. How had he acquired the 
 seal oi the pariah ? It seemed to him that from the 
 moment he had that miserable misunderstanding 
 with the Socialist on board the Livania everything 
 had gone wrong with him. Even when he applied 
 to be allowed to assist people to a livelihood on 
 the lines of their own calling he seemed in some 
 unaccountable way to excite derision. What change 
 had come over him, who but yesterday had the same 
 class of people bowing and scraping before him ? 
 
 In a few minutes he heard steps approaching, and 
 a severe-looking lady in black silk strode towards 
 him, the rear-guard being kept hy the tousled and 
 laughing Hebe. 
 
 
LOSES CASTE 
 
 «7 
 
 
 The severe lady glanced at the millionaire 
 critically, and anticipated his inquiry without hesita- 
 tion. 
 
 " I 'm very sorry, but I have no Sedroom that I 
 can let you." 
 
 " Are you quite full up ? " 
 
 * I have no bedroom I can spare." 
 
 At that moment a hansom drove up, and two 
 young fellows carrying rugs and bags entered and 
 threw them in a heap in the hall. 
 
 "We want a couple of good rooms, Mrs. Brown," 
 said the younger of the two. 
 
 "Certainly, sir," and the severe lady visibly melted. 
 " Here, Tom," to a page-boy, " see to the gentlemen's 
 luggage. Numbers lo and 1 1." 
 
 The new arrivals slouched into the coffee-room. 
 The millionaire, standing humbly by the hat-stand, 
 was for the moment forgotten. 
 
 " I thought," said he to the severe lady, " that you 
 had no spare rooms." 
 
 "I ;>..d I had none for you," she said tartly, "if 
 you will have it so plainly." 
 
 And then she ailed way, her nose pitched at a 
 higher altitude than nature ever intended. 
 
 "Cawn't you see, guv'nor," said Hebe grinning, 
 "that you 've got to mizzle— to skoot — to git aht ! " 
 
 "My good girl, wii ytHi oblige me by explaining 
 
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 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 to me what it all means. Why am I refused a 
 room ? " . 
 
 "W'y! w'y! Well, s'help me if you ain't a 
 corker. W'y cawn't you git a room, guv'nor? 
 W'y, because a corfee shop 's more your mark, an' 
 you take my tip an' go there if you want a doss for 
 the night." 
 
 And then the millionaire remembered that he was 
 dressed in an ill-fitting suit of threadbare serge, thin 
 at the elbows, baggy at the knees and shiny all over. 
 He left the hotel without a word, ar J Hebe banged 
 the door after him. 
 
 The millionaire hurried from the hotel. There 
 was a new problem for him to solve, and he wanted 
 to think it all out For the first time he was forced 
 to consider the philosophy of Sartor Resartus. It did 
 not occur to him that in parting with his own suit 
 of clothes he was sloughing the armour of his caste. 
 No longer the millionaire, he was now not even 
 respectable in appearance-he was not good enough 
 to mix with the commercial travellers and provincral 
 tourists who put up at Brown's Temperance Hotel 
 in Portsmouth Terrace! The plain-spoken Hebe 
 had revealed the situation to him in a moment when 
 she informed him that a « corfee shop " was now 
 his mark. A " corfee shop " i The millionaire had a 
 Uiin idea that it no longer meant the literary resort 
 
LOSES CASTE 
 
 89 
 
 It 
 
 of the days of Johnson and Hazlitt, but the cheap 
 restaurant of the lower orders. Indeed, if the 
 milhonaire had only realized it, Hebe's suggestion 
 might have conveyed to him a still more objection- 
 able taint. However, to the pure all things are pure, 
 and purity and ignorance are much akin. 
 
 To a " corfee shop " the millionaire would go ; but 
 he thought anxiously of what lay before him on 
 the morrow. It had been his intention to return 
 to the bank, as the manager had promised to make 
 inquiries, and he hoped that with such machinery 
 as an old-established institution like a bank might 
 be able to avail itself of, for establishing the identity 
 of clients, it would be in a far better position to come 
 to his assistance than any means which he himself 
 could devise. 
 
 But now he tV ight the very fact of returning 
 in a livery which uore on it unmistakable evidence 
 opposed to his claims, was a still further barrier to 
 his success. He reflected in thankfulness that in 
 parting with his clothes he had secured a means of 
 cabling to America. After all, the possession of the 
 sovereign was assuredly worth more to him than any 
 adventitious advantage to be derived from wearing 
 superfine clothes with empty pockets. 
 
 How he hugged the potent little coin. He rubbed 
 it between his finger and thumb as though to make 
 
 i 
 
 I : ' 
 
90 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 sure the superscription and medallion were correct. 
 If he were endeavouring to ascertain the date on 
 the coin, he could not more lovingly caress it. He 
 even felt its weight, as though fearful of some un- 
 accountable diminution in v^alue. With that twenty 
 shillings how different he felt to the almost hopeless 
 condition in which he had found himself that morn- 
 ing. After all -'t was lucky that he had not been 
 welcomed at Brown's Hotel. From his old ex- 
 perience of hotels. Brown's had struck him as being 
 comparatively humble, and therefore, he supposed, 
 reasonable in its charges. But, after all, if it were 
 so exclusive that a social abyss divided it from the 
 "corfee shop," its tariff might entrench dangerously 
 on his sovereign, so that, as Hebe suggested, the 
 "corfee shop" was, after all, undoubtedly his mark. 
 
 He had made for the direction in which he heard 
 the roar of traffic, as he knew that there lay the 
 haunts of poorer men, and that was undoubtedly 
 where he would find a suitable resting-place for the 
 night And yet what a strange position to be in, 
 he thought, and he ran over in his mind the 
 accidents of that morning-the journey in the train ; 
 the painful longing at the sight-the unbeautiful 
 sight— of the eating-house in Euston Road ; his in- 
 terviews with the managers of the Hotel Cosmopolis 
 and the bank; his adventurous trip to Lambeth; 
 
LOSES CASTE 
 
 91 
 
 
 and now his rejection when, for the first time during 
 the long day, with money in his pocket, he applies 
 for rest and shelter and is denied. 
 
 He held the sovereign in the palm of his hand, 
 and looked at it in the fitful glare of a gas-lamp. 
 It was, he reflected, the materialized history of one 
 of the most eventful days that even a millionaire 
 could command. If he only dared, he would retain 
 that sovereign and keep it as a memento of this most 
 curious page of his life. He addressed it by turns 
 in entreaty and again in rebuke. In fact, Mr. 
 Povvnceby-Smith, seeing in the possession of the 
 little gold coin a way out of his difficulties, was for 
 the first time beginning to realize the grim humour 
 of the situation. In this unit of his fortunes was 
 vested a greater potentiality than, so far as he could 
 command it, lay in the vast remainder of his 
 possessions. Three shillings, he argued to himself, 
 must cover supper and a breakfast if he could possibly 
 find a coffee-shop that would at this scale minister 
 to his requirements. That would leave seventeen 
 shillings as a connecting link with his divorced wealth. 
 
 A gaunt, ragged, half- starved urchin eyed the 
 millionaire, and sidled up to him. 
 
 " Give us a copper, sir," said he ; and, as he held 
 up his attenuated fist, he glanced at the inillionaire's 
 open hand and saw the coin. Instantly he grabbed 
 
 
li 
 
 I I! 
 
 92 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 at it. and successfully. The millionaire shrieked. 
 Hut twas useless, for already the urchin was careerin^ 
 down the street at full speed, the sovereign safely in 
 h.s possession, Mr. Pownceby-Smith in full pursuit 
 behind, and shrieking out " Stop thief! stop thief " 
 The urchin disappeared round the corner of the 
 street, and the millionaire, panting and almost ex- 
 hausted, followed. 
 
 But when he reached the corner the urchin was no 
 longer in sight. Opposite him were two turnings and 
 a narrow alley. Several persons appeared in each, 
 butm none of them could the millionaire recognize 
 the juvenile highwayman. 
 
 A policeman was standing at a further corner, and 
 the m.'lionaire hastened excitedly across to him 
 
 "Did you see a boy." he panted, "running, past 
 here ? He has stolen a sovereign from me half a 
 mmute ago." 
 
 The millionaire was excited, and clutched the 
 pohceman by the sleeve, trying to arouse in that 
 d^^nified official a full sense of the enormity of the 
 offence that had been committed. The policeman 
 resented the familiarity, and. shaking off the million- 
 aire, refused to allow his official equatnmity to be 
 ruffled. 
 
 "I saw three boys, perhaps four, run by here 
 withm the last minute. Which one of the three 
 
LOSES CASTE 
 
 93 
 
 or four stole your sovereign? And where did you 
 get the sovereign ? Come, none of yer 'ank, you 
 know ! " 
 
 " I assure you," said the miUionaire passionately, 
 "that I was looking at a coin in my hand round the 
 corner, and a boy jumped up, snatched it from mc, 
 and ran away." 
 
 "Well, just fancy, being idiot enough to hold a 
 coin in your hand ! Why didn't you keep it in your 
 pocket ? " 
 
 "Oh, cannot you help me?" wailed the millionaire. 
 " It was all I had in the world." 
 
 " Well, you find him and give him in charge, and 
 I'll take him to the station. That's all I can do 
 for you." 
 
 The millionaire saw it was useless to plead further 
 with the representative of the law. Indeed, that 
 burly official turned away in such a decided manner 
 that Mr. Pownceby-Smith was rather afraid of again 
 approaching him. He looked anxiously along the 
 three thoroughfares which the boy had to choose 
 from in his flight. For more than half an hour he 
 continued to explore them, but without success, and 
 then, utterly dejected, he sank on one of the seats 
 provided by a considerate county council, and 
 burying his head in his arms, he sobbed like a 
 child. 
 
 
 liUi 
 
 
 V N 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE SUPS "AL FRESCO" 
 
 npHERE is a state of coma caused by the ex- 
 haustion of grief in which the senses are 
 perfectly alert if aroused, but in which they enjoy 
 a respite from the exercise cf their faculties should 
 nothing happen to disturb them. In this coma the 
 millionaire sat, after his sobs had subsided, with his 
 head buried in his arms as he leant on the back of 
 the seat. 
 
 He was conscious, in a dim sort of way, of his loss; 
 he knew, too, that the terrible problem of the night 
 lay before him, and that he should be up and doing ; 
 but it was so much better to lie quite still and do 
 nothing, not even to think. The wind was sighing 
 in a dreary, mournful key through the swaying 
 branches of the trees inside the square — it was 
 soothing as the song of birds in the distance; the 
 far rumble of the continuous traffic broke dully in 
 his ears— it was musical as the beating of surf on 
 a far-away shore. The millionaire, had the choice 
 
 94 
 
SUPS "AL FRESCO" 
 
 95 
 
 been put to him, would have elected to remain there 
 until his soul passed into the dreamless night rather 
 than awake to face the struggle and anxiety of a 
 fight for existence. He almost snarled when a 
 sympathetic voice sounded in his ear, and a hand 
 was laid gently on his shoulder. He did not look 
 up, and .elt inclined to ask in a temper to be left 
 in peace. 
 
 And then it occurred to him that it might be some 
 agent from the many missions who annually absorb 
 large revenues to promote works for the relief of the 
 destitute and the succour of the despairing. Perhaps 
 it might be even one of the charitably disposed of 
 his own class, coming with a heart of mercy to find 
 the shelterless and outcast and help them. 
 
 Rousing himself, he looked up, but he shivered 
 when he saw the figure that was bending over him. 
 It was that of a woman of about fifty. Her coarse 
 hair hung in folds over a dirty and wrinkled brow ; 
 her face was weather-stained, and bore all the 
 hideous marks of rough usage, neglect, and dissi- 
 pation. Her clothes were a mass of rags, deriving 
 their warmth mainly from encrusted filth. A bonnet, 
 out of all shape and form, and hanging on the side 
 of her head, completed one of those familiar un- 
 communicable figures who haunt the shadows of great 
 cities, the odium and the contempt of their fellow- 
 
 ( 1 
 ' 1 
 
96 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 creatures. F'or them is no kindness or encouragement, 
 no hope and no pity ; their portion is an oath and a 
 kick u hen they dare to encroach on the living circles ; 
 social lepers that they are, their claim to humanity 
 has been forgotten, and missions to shed light in 
 darkness, and comfort on despair, know not of their 
 existence, or, knowing it, care not 
 
 Mr. Pownceby - Smith recognized the type of 
 creature bending over him, and recognizing it, he 
 shrank from the contact as he would from that of 
 a ghoul that had sprung on him suddenly out of 
 the darkness. 
 
 "You seem 'ard 'it, old pal," said the woman. 
 "Can I 'elp you?" 
 
 How blessed and grateful is the offer of even 
 powerless assistance; the spirit of sympathy it 
 breathes is itself balm to the heart. It mollified 
 the resentment of the millionaire against the hideous 
 creature, although it did not lessen his repugnance. 
 
 " You can't help me," said he, " but I thank you for 
 your kindness." 
 
 "Now don't be too sure," said she, and the 
 millionaire looked up surprised, the woman in 
 adopting a firm tone dropping the twang of the 
 street dialect. " I don't think you 'ave often dossed 
 on a street bench before, an' your 'ands don't seem 
 to go very well with the clothes you 'ave on." 
 
SUPS «AL FRESCO" 
 
 97 
 
 " No," said the millionaire, " that is quite true. I 
 am down on my luck, and in a very sorry plight, but 
 — but — well, you can't help it, can you ? " 
 
 " Are you 'ungry ? " 
 
 " Very." 
 
 " Well, I can 'elp that 
 
 The millionaire looked at her wistfully. 
 
 " That 's all right," said she. " I cawn't give you 
 a doss, but I can give you somethin' to eat. 'Ere, 
 come along to the stall." 
 
 "The stall " 
 
 " O Lor', you '11 stawrve, if I don' look after you. 
 'Ere, come along." 
 
 The millionaire rose and followed her. She 
 trudged along in front, a shapeless outline, her heels 
 showing through her shoes and stockings, and the 
 former flapping loosely against the flags at every 
 step. 
 
 " The stall " stood at a corner of th. j juare, and its 
 proprietor, a beefy individual, had just served two 
 urchins with steaming coffee and bread, which they 
 were devouring with the zest of famine. They were 
 each so like the boy A'ho had made away with his 
 sovereign, that the millionaire started as he saw 
 them, but a second glance showed that the likeness 
 lay merely in their common wretched aspect 
 
 "'Eilo, Sal," said the stall-keeper, as the million- 
 
 G 
 
 I'l 
 
98 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 aire's escort pot within the range of the naphtha 
 lamps, '• 'ave you got a mash ? " 
 
 " I 've got a tanner," said Sal, " an' so you needn't 
 flurry your fat about wot don't concern you." 
 " Well, wot do you want ? " 
 
 " Never you mind," returned Sal. •« You just keep 
 your place, an' wait till customers as 'onours you by 
 coniin" to your bloomin' stall chooses to tell you 
 what they want." 
 " Go it, go it," said the merchant. 
 
 " I will go it, you " (several adjectives). 
 
 " Blest if I '11 serve you, if you don't keep a civil 
 tongue in your 'ead." 
 
 "Not serve me?" shrieked Sal. "Why, if you 
 wasn't to serve me, I 'd smash you and your stall, if 
 I got five years for it." 
 
 The millionaire, in spite of his hunger, was 
 tempted to go away, and yet he could not help 
 noticing that the urchins who were feeding at the 
 board took not the slightest notice of the colloquy 
 that was passing ; had it been a discussion of the 
 weather, it could not, apparently, have had less 
 interest for them. 
 
 Sal's threat appeared to have a soothing effect on 
 the caterer. 
 
 "All right, Sal," said he; "you know I didn't mean 
 it, on'y you do rile one so " 
 
SUPS "AL FRESCO" 
 
 99 
 
 "Then you should keep your mouth shut. Who 
 arslxcd you to pass any remarks on my friend or me ?" 
 
 " Well, it 's all over now, Sal ; wot can I git you ? " 
 
 " I want a big cup of corfee." 
 
 The thought occurred to the millionaire that he 
 had fallen even below the mark Hebe had set for 
 him. This was not even a " corfee shop ! " 
 
 " Four doorsteps," continued Sal, " and two eggs ! 
 That's a tanner, an' mind you jolly well giv' me 
 vally for my money." 
 
 The coffee was boiled out of all taste, it was poor 
 in quality, and it was smoky, but the millionaire 
 thought he had never tasted mocha more delicious. 
 And how soft and agreeable was the scaly bread, 
 and what a luscious and delicious flavour the stale 
 eggs had ! The millionaire never enjoyed a meal 
 better in his life. It brought him more satisfaction 
 than his dinner ''ally cart,' because then he had 
 suffered from an exhaustion of hunger which had 
 almost destroyed the power of enjoyment, whereas 
 now he was merely sating a voraciously whetted 
 appetite. 
 
 Sal walked into the shadows while the millionaire 
 was eating. When he turned away from the stall 
 she rejoined him. 
 
 " Well," said she, with a laugh, " do you feel better 
 nowi»" 
 
 iM ' 
 
 •i.(. 
 
 i 
 
 m 
 
 %\ 
 
100 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 W'l 
 
 "Yes, thank you," replied Ur. Pownceby-Smith. 
 "I feel much better." 
 
 " Come and sit down for a few minutes," said she, 
 moving towards the seat. "It's al'ays best w'en 
 you 've gone a long time witiiout. It 's early yet." 
 Big Ben at the moment began to chine eleven. 
 The millionaire lelt the wisdom of the advice, but 
 in obeying it he had further reasons. In the first 
 place he did not know where else to go, and then he 
 thought it probable that this bedraggled patron 
 might still further add to his indebtedness by 
 advising him out of the store of her obviously vast 
 experience what was the next thing a destitute man 
 could do. She bore unmistakable evidence of being 
 able to offer expert directions on che subject. 
 
 "I don't know how I can repay you for your 
 kindness," said Mr. Pownceby-Smith, taking his seat, 
 while his companion pulled her ragged shawl closer 
 about her neck. " But don't let me keep you too 
 long. You may want to be getting home." 
 
 "Where?" asked his companion in a high note of 
 surprise. 
 "Home!" 
 " Got no 'ome." 
 
 "You have no home?" said the millionaire, and 
 then he hesitated a moment. " But— but— excuse me, 
 but how or where are you going to spend the night ? " 
 
SUPS «AL FRESCO" 
 
 lOI 
 
 •' Don't know ; don't care. That 's easy, ain't it ? " 
 "You -you surprise me," exclaimed the millionaire. 
 "Ah! you ain't used to it— 7^/. It's al'ays sur- 
 prisin' at first, but it comes nat'ral enough in time. 
 When I had that tanner just before I saw you, I was 
 just thinkin' to myself: 'shall I 'ave somethin' to eat, 
 somethin' to drink, or shall I 'ave a bed ? ' All worry, 
 you see; an' worry ain't no good to an'-^ne. I sees 
 you, an' there's an end c' the tanner, auu an end o' 
 the worry." 
 
 The millionaire was learning a great many new 
 things, and among them was the strange madness 
 which induced a miserable creature like this to spend 
 all she had on a starving stranger, and go hungry and 
 houseless herself for want of it. 
 
 "I feel very guilty," said he, "to think that I 
 deprived you of the means of getting food and 
 shelter " 
 
 "Don't worry about that," said she, hitching up 
 her shawl to cover a huge rent which bared her neck. 
 " It 's almost a dead cert that I 'd 'ave spent it in 
 drink." 
 
 "And your charity was greater than even your love 
 of drink," said the millionaire musingly. 
 
 " I say, but you 're a rum 'un to be out like this. 
 'Ow did you come to it ? Out on ticket, and badgered 
 by the coppers, is it? But it cawn't be thet. Your 
 
 . 'Hi 
 
 • ; I 
 
 m 
 
.fM 
 
 102 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 I' 
 
 'ands ain't done no oakum-pickin' or breakin' stones ; 
 ovv is it ? " 
 
 "I am not a poor man, by any means," said 
 Pownceby-Smith ; "but my friends are— are out of 
 town, and not having any money with me, I am in 
 sore straits until they return. To-morrow I shall 
 most probably be a rich man." 
 
 " Oh, rot ! " said the lady with vehemence ; " wot 's 
 the good of pitchin' that yarn to me ? " 
 
 " None," said the millionaire, a trifle testily, " but 
 you asked for it." 
 
 " But 'ow 'ave you got them worn-out slop clothes 
 if you 've only come down a day or two ? " 
 
 "I sold my own to a pawnbroker," replieo Mr. 
 Pownceby-Smith, " for a sovereign and this suit ; and 
 just round the corner, as I was looking at the coin, a 
 boy snatched it from me." 
 
 The woman burst into a fit of hearty laughter. 
 " Well, of all the stories I ever 'card this takes it." 
 "You don't believe me?" asked the millionaire, 
 wondering if anyone ever again would believe any- 
 thing he said. 
 "I do," said she, "and that's w'y I'm laughin'." 
 The millionaire fe 1 1» relieved, and then his curiosity 
 in the new phase of life revealed to him by his com- 
 panion prompted him to question her further. 
 
 " Where do you think it likely that you '11 spend 
 the night?" 
 
SUPS «AL FRESCO" 
 
 103 
 
 "Don't know; don't care." 
 
 "And I have taken from you all your money ; how 
 will you get anything to eat ? " 
 
 " Prig it, p'r'aps ; do without it if I can't. May find 
 a mug to give me a few coppers for fear I 'd dirt his 
 shirt-front or swear at him." 
 
 " But suppose it is not enough to pay for a bed, 
 what will you do?" 
 
 " Get drunk with it. That 's the best of drink, that 
 a little of it knocks you over w'en you've got no 
 food. It's all right when you're drunk; you don't 
 want neither food nor bed then." 
 
 " And where would you sleep even then ? " 
 
 " Were you fall." 
 
 " But you might be locked up I " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 The millionaire recognized the philosophy of the 
 remark. 
 
 "I've bin locked up 'underds of times," continued 
 the woman. " ' Cock-eyed Sal ' is well known to the 
 police-courts, but I ain't no more cock-eyed than 
 you. But it don't matter. Nothin' matters ! " 
 
 The curious creature puzzled and interested the 
 millionaire in spite of himself. 
 
 " I can't help thinking," said he, " that at some time 
 or other in your life your circumstances were very 
 different. I think you have not always lived this 
 sort of life " 
 
 1 
 
 . . ! j 
 
 I 
 
 ! 
 
 r [ 
 
104 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "/? suis~je suis~je suis—fiimporte—oh, hang ! I 
 forget it There 's heaps of 'em in the gutter," said 
 she. " who have learnt books only, and never learnt 
 anything about life, an' then they go smash when 
 they've got to face it." 
 
 " I am really a wealthy man," said Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith. " Now I can do nothing, and even to-morrow 
 may not be quite ready, but in a couple of days all 
 that money can do will be in my power. Will you 
 
 let me lift you out of this wretch " 
 
 "Chuck it, chuck it! I'm not going to stand 
 preachin'. I 'm fifty, unless I 've lost count, and for 
 thirty years I Ve swore and drank, and drank and 
 swore. Would you like to hear me swear? There's 
 no one can come within a mile o' ' Cock-eyed Sal ' 
 
 when she starts " 
 
 "For Heaven's sake, don't." And Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith turned away, and a big tear stole into his eyes. 
 He could picture to himself the miserable creature 
 studying how most effectually to preserve the chas- 
 tisement of reprobation, and he vaguely regarded the 
 action as one calculated to stifle every whisper of 
 conscience, or the harbouring of a hope. 
 
 "You'll come to it yourself in time," said she. 
 "We all begin like you, trying to git back, trying to 
 git back, an' you sink an' sink, an' swear an' drink, an' 
 then you don't care. It 's all the same, everything ! " 
 
Sups «al fresco" 
 
 105 
 
 " And this night for you, penniless at eleven o'clock, 
 is no worse than — than other nights you have spent?" 
 
 "It's better 'n most, ^ r I've eat nothin' since 
 inornin', an' even a penny '11 send me blind." 
 
 " So you 're 'ere agen, are you ? " said a harsh voice 
 behind them, and the millionaire, looking up, saw a 
 young and burly policeman pushing his wretched 
 companion with a shove that was half a blow. She 
 was taken by surprise, and fell forward a helpless 
 heap in the gutter by the kerb. A second policeman 
 who stood by laughed at the fun. 
 
 " Curse you," she shrieked, as she endeavoured to 
 rise, " curse you ! May you " 
 
 The millionaire shuddered, and went to her assist- 
 ance. 
 
 " Go away, you fool," she hissed in his ear, as she 
 pushed him a\/ay from her. "They'll lock you up 
 too, if you don't." 
 
 " Now then, Sal, git along out o' this. We 've 'ad 
 enough o' you about 'ere." 
 
 As the policeman spoke he caught her roughly by 
 the shoulder, and flung her across towards his com- 
 panion. That worthy stepped alertly on one side, 
 and, sending his leg out in a sweeping direction, he 
 knocked her off her tottering supports and sent her 
 down in a heap, the fall resounding with a sickening 
 thud that made the millionaire's heart stand still. 
 
 
 1 
 
 Hn 
 
10b A PAtJPEk MILLIONAIRE 
 
 He was about to protest, when a woman of the 
 same class as the victim held him back. 
 
 " Don't you s'y nothin'," said she, " or they '11 knock 
 you about too, an' run you in. 'Tain't no use doin' 
 nothin', an' it's best to keep yer malith shet." 
 
 When Sal recovered herself she poured out on her 
 persecutors a volume of wrathful abuse, and flew at 
 them like a wild cat. But her assaults were of no 
 avail. As she approached one stalwart officer, he 
 either checked her career with a blow, or his com- 
 panion sent her sprawling with a kick, amid the jeers 
 and laughter of a fair-sized crowd which had now 
 collected. The one-sided game with this wretched 
 human football lasted several minutes before the 
 officers were tired of the sport and dragged her away, 
 scarce able to shriek oaths through the blood, to be' 
 thrown in a cell for the night, to be immolated on the 
 altar of the law in the morning. 
 
 The millionaire, well-nigh sick with the horror of 
 the common incident which u-as so new to him, 
 turned away as the jeering crowd followed the police-' 
 men and their victim. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE GOES TO THE WORKHOUSE 
 
 AS he went round the square seeking for an outlet 
 -^^^ in the opposite direction to that taken by the 
 police, he came on an urchin who was crouching by 
 the railings, sobbing. The millionaire was inclined 
 to pass on, but some irresistible impulse impelled him 
 to pause. He was getting intimately acquainted with 
 misery, and it seemed to possess a power of appeal to 
 him which was stronger than it had ever exercised 
 before. 
 
 " What is the matter, my little man ? " he asked 
 
 " Nothin'," was the reply between the sobs 
 
 "Oh, come," said Mr. Pownceby-Smith kindly, 
 " you wouldn't be crying for nothing." 
 
 " Nev — never mind." 
 
 " But I do mind. I don't like to see little boys out 
 in the street crying at this time of night. Why don't 
 you go home ? " 
 
 " Got no 'ome." 
 
 " Do you mean to say you have no parents ? " 
 
 107 
 
 II: 
 
 1? ', 
 
 1 i 
 
 "! 
 
 ( 
 
1^ 
 hi 
 
 hi 
 
 lli 
 
 108 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "Dad's chucked me out. an'-an'-gone on the 
 booze. 
 
 " But your mother ? " 
 
 " I don't know vv'ere she is. 'E knocked 'er abaht " 
 " Why was it ? " 
 
 " Becos I 'd-I 'd-a suvering, an' the' was a fight 
 over it." 
 
 The miUionaire seized the boy by the arm and 
 dragged him into the h'ght. 
 
 " You wretched little boy ! " said he. " You stole 
 that sovereign from me." ' 
 
 The boy began to blubber afresh, and this time it 
 was solely from personal fear. 
 " I couldn't 'elp it, sir ; I couldn't 'elp it." 
 "Don't tell me you couldn't help it," said Mr 
 Pownceby-Smith indignantly. "Do you know, you' 
 wretched little boy, that, owing to your theft. I haven't 
 got a farthing, and that I 've no idea- no idea what- 
 soever—how I am to spend the night ? " 
 
 The boy blubbered more than ever. « Oh, please 
 
 sir, don't lock me up. I '11 never do it again, sir." 
 
 "What have you done with it?" asked the millionaire 
 
 " Please, sir, I took it 'ome, an' I giv' it to mother 
 
 an that was 'ow all the trouble 'appened ; for father 
 
 knocked 'er dahn and took it from 'er, and then 'e 
 
 kicked me haht. an' said 'e'd murder me if J went 
 
 back agen, because I took mother's part" 
 
GOES TO THE WORKHOUSE 109 
 
 " Then is there absolutely no hope of my getting 
 back my property? If I promise to forgive you, will 
 you tell me how to get back my sovereign ? " 
 
 "Git it back from fawther?" asked the boy, checking 
 his tears in his amazement. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Cawn't git nothin' f» om fawther ! " said he de- 
 cidedly. 
 
 The millionaire felt that the position was hopeless. 
 The loss of the sovereign had contrived to make yet 
 another homeless for that night, and that other 
 almost a babe. He could neither derive comfort nor 
 deduce a moral from the circumstances. He was a 
 speck on the eddy, and ' .ust go with the whirl. So 
 he released the boy, who disappeared over the crest 
 of the darkness, and he continued his aimless way. 
 
 It must be approaching midnight, and his mind 
 was racked with conjectures as to how he might spend 
 the intervening hours until he started on exploiting 
 the possibilities of another day. It never occurred to 
 him as possible that he could remain in the streets all 
 night ; he viewed it as an absolute necessity that the 
 night-hours must be spent under a roof. 
 
 But then, as Sal had reminded hir^, he was in- 
 experienced in the sort of life he was now leading. 
 
 He had not as yet got over the horror and surprise 
 the unexpected treatment of Sai had occasioned him. 
 
 '1: 
 
 k 
 
 M 
 
 f; 
 I,'. ' ' > 
 
 ■ h 
 i ,;' 
 
 , 1 
 * I 
 
A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 Had it not been for that, he would have felt more 
 anxious, conscious as he was that the hands of the 
 clock were slowly but surely creeping up to the stroke 
 of midnight. Stranger that he was, not only to his 
 experiences, but also to London, he knew that if he 
 must learn, it must be of those who knew. But to 
 whom should he turn? The respectable citizen feared 
 he was begging ; from the disreputable he shrank ; 
 and of the policeman he was now positively afraid, 
 remembering that he no longer was shielded by the 
 influence of fine raiment. And yet he knew it was 
 hopeless to roam on aimlessly as he was now doing. 
 
 At this moment he saw a man of comfortable ap- 
 pearance approaching him. The millionaire mustered 
 up resolution enough to address him : 
 
 "Sir " The man stopped, and so did the 
 
 millionaire. The words he had arranged to utter 
 stuck in his throat 
 
 "Well, my good man?" said the stranger encourag- 
 ingly, and the millionaire felt encouraged. 
 
 " I hope you will excuse me," commenced the 
 millionaire ; and then he stuck again. 
 
 " Certainly. Tell me your trouble." 
 
 " I am a stranger in London." 
 
 "Ah! and London is such a wilderness." And 
 the stranger sighed. 
 
 " I am homeless and penniless. Can you help me?" 
 
GOES TO THE WORKHOUSE 
 
 111 
 
 ' My advice is at your service, my poor fellow." 
 
 " That is what I need," said Mr. Pownceby-Smitli. 
 
 "Ah! you are worth helping," said the stranger. 
 
 " I would advise you, my good friend, to be firm in 
 
 your hour of adversity, and not to be tempted to 
 
 step aside from the path that is inoffensive ; let your 
 
 life be as a .jweet savour " 
 
 "There is no likelihood of my being tempted to 
 any wickedness," said Mr. Pownceby-Smith ; "the 
 advice I want is that which will point out to me 
 where I am to get a bed to-night." 
 
 " And who am I that I should pretend to know ? 
 So little versed am I in worldly affairs that I could 
 not presume to interfere in them. What material 
 help I can render to those less fortunate in the 
 world's goods than I am, I place in the hands of 
 the Charity Organization Society, who will see that 
 it reaches only the deserving. If you go to the 
 Charity Organization Society they will inquire into 
 your case. The hours are ten to four " 
 
 " What is the good of ten to four hours to mc ? 
 Where am I to sleep to-night f " 
 
 " My good friend, how can I tell ? " 
 
 "You are either a fool or a hypocrite, I don't 
 know which," said Mr. Pownceby-Smith, passing on 
 indignantly. 
 
 The stranger threw up his hands in horror and 
 hastened away. 
 
 
 '■U 
 
iia 
 
 ^ PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 A workman trudging homeward, his tools on 
 his back, struck the milh'onaire as being one who 
 would be likely to assist, and he addressed him. 
 
 " Don't think I want anything from you," said he 
 when he had explained his position ; " I merely wish 
 to know if you can tell me of any resource under the 
 circumstances." 
 
 "Well, mate, it'll come 'ard with you, I'm 
 thinkin'; but I suppose what can't be cured must 
 be endured, as the sayin' is. The only resource, as 
 I can see, is the 'ouse." 
 "What house?" asked the millionaire. 
 " The work'us, o' course, the casual ward." 
 "Can I demand admittance there?" 
 And Mr. Pownceby-Smith grimly determined to 
 bite the dust by availing himself of any resource 
 sooner than succumb. 
 
 " Well, under the law, I b'lieve you can demand it, 
 but w'en you 've got to do with the law, they don't 
 care much for the law theirselves ; so, as it 's lyte, I 'd 
 advise you to arsk a policeman to go io the door 
 with you." 
 
 " I will," said the millionaire. " Can you direct me 
 to— to the workhouse?" 
 
 " Well, St f drew's is the nearest. If you keep 
 down there as st.> \ «., hfr/cr you kin go, it will tyke 
 you near it, and thcr you had bct^.-r inquire again." 
 
 

 GOES TO THE WORKFIOUSE 113 
 
 "Thank you very much," said the millionaire. 
 "Good-night" And with elate steps he hurried 
 down thi' road to the workhouse. 
 
 The woi kh. ).ise was not of an aspect likely to tempt 
 to vagrancy so far as the outside was concerned. 
 Indeed, strong as his resolution now was, the million- 
 aire shuddered slightly as he looked up at the gloomy 
 walls and the cheerless, uncurtained windows. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith thought it best to take his 
 new experience like unpalatable medicine, at a gulp ; 
 and so he made over to the policeman who was 
 standing at the further corner. 
 
 The millionaire was getting proof to shocks, but 
 he experienced one now which was so totally unex- 
 pected that he almost began to wonder if he were 
 awake. He had at last run across a sympathetic 
 and kind-hearted policeman. 
 
 " Can you tell me," the millionaire had asked, " how 
 I am to secure admission to the casual ward ? " 
 "Stony?" asked the policeman. 
 " I aia penniless." 
 
 "'Ard luck! Well, never mind; think there's 
 better times in store, an' it'll help you to pull 
 through. It's rather late to get into the casual; 
 ten to one they '11 say they 're full up, but I '11 go 
 and see what I can do for you." 
 "Thank you," said the millionaire, following the 
 
 r- 
 
 h hi 
 

 114 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 hi 
 
 policeman as he strode across, ard wondering that 
 he should have shown so much interest in his fate. 
 
 The policeman knocked at a dirty door, which, 
 after a while, was opened by a grumbling porter. 
 
 " S'help me ! " said he ; " is there another of 'em ? " 
 
 " This ain't a reg'lar," said the policeman. 
 
 "They're all reg'lar," grumbled the porter, with 
 a melancholy attempt at cheerless wit, "reg'lar 
 noosances." 
 
 " Oh, well, they 'elps to keep you, at any rate." 
 
 "They keeps me awake. But I don't think we've 
 got any room. I'm certain we're full up." 
 
 "I'm certain you are not. I've seen all that 
 have gone in " 
 
 "You've seen all that's gone in since you came 
 on dooty at ten ; but 'ow can you tell, Mr. Clever, 
 'ow many was on the rope before that?" 
 
 "Because I 'appen to know; d'you see?" 
 
 " Well, come on ! " said the porter to the anxious 
 millicnaire, with a suddenness that startled him. 
 " What are you 'anging houtside for, when the door 's 
 hopen ? " 
 
 •' Well, good-night, old chap," said the policeman. 
 " Wish you better luck." 
 
 " Good - night," said the millionaire. " I am 
 
 very " 
 
 \Jn, come aiong, an cion t stanu paluvcrin' there, 
 
am 
 
 GOES TO THE WORKHOUSE 1,5 
 
 or I '11 shut the bloomin' door on you." And the porter 
 suggested an action suitable to the threat. The 
 millionaire, afraid of its being carried into effect, 
 hurried through, and the door was banged behind 
 him. 
 
 The porter entered a dingy little office on the 
 right, and opened a book. " Your nyme!" he growled, 
 seizing the stump of a pen. 
 
 The millionaire reflected for a moment as to what 
 name he should give. In a few hours he should 
 have emerged from his present predicament, and 
 his pride revolted from the thought of a workhouse 
 record remaining in existence against him. And 
 then, on the other hand, it might be a necessary 
 precaution for him to have a clear trace of his doings 
 in case the establishment of his identity proved a 
 source of further trouble. 
 
 "Your nyme!" shouted the porter, rising in a 
 ludicrous tempest of fury, and banging the book 
 with a crash on the table. 
 
 " Now look here." said the millionaire indignantly, 
 " I 'm not going to put up with your uncalled-for 
 insolence. I know nothing about your forms, but 
 whatever is required of me I shall do if you instruct 
 me civilly and respectfully." 
 
 "S'help me! s'help me, ten men and a boy!" 
 gasped the porter, falling back in his seat. "Who 
 
 • ii 
 
 I 'i 
 
ii6 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 
 on hearth 'ave we got 'ere, the Prince o' Wales 
 or the Hawrchbishop of Cainterberry ? " 
 
 " You 've got a man, and that 's sufficient for you," 
 said Mr. Pownceby-Smith. "Just see that you treat 
 him as a man, and not as a dog. What do you want 
 to know ? " 
 
 " Your nyme ! " 
 
 " Reuben Pownceby-Smith." 
 
 "R-u-b-e-n, Reuben," drawled the porter, writing 
 laboriously, "S-m-i-t-h, Smith, Never mind the 
 ' P'y.' Two nymes is good enough for a pauper." 
 
 The porter had decided for him. He was in- 
 cognito, a pauper, but incognito. There was also 
 the saving clause that it was not his own doing. 
 
 " Were did you come from ? " 
 
 " Liverpool." 
 
 " Were did you larst sleep ? " 
 
 " Star Hotel, Liverpool." 
 
 " Well, cut awf and take yer clothes hawff." 
 
 " Where am I to go ? " asked the millionaire. 
 
 "Strytedahn." 
 
 The millionaire went down the stone corridor and 
 entered a large room, round the walls of which were 
 shelves partitioned into compartments. 
 
 " Tha 's yours," said a porter who met him at the 
 door. " Shove 'em in quick, an' mind yer not long 
 abaht it" 
 

 GOES TO THE WORKHOUSE 117 
 
 The porter turned on his heel and went out. 
 Then Mr. Pownceby-Smith saw that a very dirty, 
 very ragged, and very demoralized specimen of the 
 human race was undressing— or, rather, letting his 
 loose rags fall off— near him. 
 
 "Yer a noo 'and at this gyme, pel, ain't you?" 
 asked the specimen. 
 
 "Yes, I am," replied the millionaire, shivering at 
 the prospect of his clothes being mixed with the 
 other's rags. " Can you tell me what we have to do 
 with our clothes ? " 
 
 " You shoves 'em up in the pigeon-'ole, an' w'ile yer 
 'avin yer beauty-sleep they looks arter 'em for yer." 
 " Do we retain our — our shirts ? " 
 " Nah ! " 
 
 " We — we undress altogether ? " 
 "Stawrk!" 
 
 " I '11 try and retain my shirt." 
 "You cawn't; it's agin' the rules. Besides, wot's 
 the- good ? There ain't one in ten of the gents as 
 comes in 'ere 'ave a shirt. W'y, mine is on'y a neck 
 and a frill, and wentilated hawrms." 
 
 "I'll ask them, then, as a favour," said the 
 millionaire. 
 
 " There hain't no fyvours 'ere. You tyke my tip, 
 an' jes' do as the rest, or you'll be chawrged with 
 bein' a refractory pauper J' 
 
 » I 
 
 
ii8 
 
 J'' 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 " What would that mean ? " 
 
 " It 'ud mean bein' 'auled afore the beak, an* gettin' 
 fourteen 'awrd." 
 
 "Do you mean imprisonment?" gasped the 
 millionaire. 
 " That 's jes' abaht the size of it, pel." 
 " Nah then, are you ready ? " called out the porter ; 
 and the specimen, letting go the last hold on his 
 tapestry, stood in puris naturalibus. The millionaire 
 saw that there was nothing for it but to follow his 
 example, and, with much repugnance, he did so. 
 " What 's next ? " he whispered to his companion. 
 " The bawth," was the reply. The specimen led 
 the way, and the millionaire followed, inwardly 
 fearful of dire results through treading the cold 
 stone flags with his bare feet. The porter showed 
 them both into the same bathroom. 
 
 " Nah," said he, " git it over quick. We don't want 
 to be 'angin' abaht 'ere all night." 
 
 With that he closed the door on them. 
 "What— what does it mean?" asked the millionaire 
 faintly. 
 
 "It means that we've got to pig it Lor' bless 
 you, two's nothin' ! W'y, I 've hawften been four in 
 a bawth. They 's supposed to 'ave a bawth for each 
 one ; but supposing goes a long w'y. Look 'ere, you 
 jump in first" 
 
GOES TO THE WORKHOUSE 119 
 
 It was the only way out of the difficulty for the 
 disgusted millionaire; into the bath after his com- 
 panion he would not have gone if he were sent to 
 gaol twenty times for it. 
 
 " You don't want no supper, I suppose ? " said the 
 specimen. 
 
 " No ; I had some," replied the millionaire, and his 
 mind reverted with wondering pity to Sal. Where 
 was she, poor wretch, now, and what state was 
 she in? 
 
 "So 'ad I," broke in the specimen. "I hain't 
 sech a fool as to come in for their muck." 
 
 " What do they give ? " 
 
 " Eight hahnces o' sawdust bread, an' hany amahnt 
 o' water." 
 
 •"Ere y'are! 'Urry up." It was the porter, who 
 this time handed in two flannel shirts. 
 
 " An' n-^h," said the specimen, as they arrayed 
 themselves, " for ahr beauty-sleep ! " 
 
 " You know the w'y, Corkes," growled the porter. 
 
 '• Oh, yes," said the specimen. " I knows all the 
 corridors in this yer 'otel ; you needn't trouble, 
 ' boots,' to show me." 
 
 " Nah, not so much o' yer sarce ! an' min' yer don' 
 stawrt jawrin'." 
 
 The dormitory of the casual ward was a long 
 apartment. When the millionaire entered with his 
 
 gi |: 
 
120 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 ■ 
 
 companion he noticed a large number of slung 
 hammocks, which all seemed occupied. 
 
 "Well, that's a blessin', any'ow," said the speci- 
 men. "The ropes is hall ockypied, so we can 'ave 
 a plank. It's more comfor'ble by far." 
 
 The millionaire found a bare plank, with a raised 
 board for a pillow, with a gift of two blankets to 
 dispose of as he would, anything but an inviting 
 prospect. Resolution was at all times, however, a 
 strong trait in Mr. Pownceby-Smith's character, and 
 as he had determined to make the best of the worst, 
 he resolutely imitated his companion in wrapping the' 
 blankets round him, so that they should do a double 
 duty as a covering and a mattress. 
 
 "Just one thing more." whispered the millionaire. 
 " What do they do with our clothes?" 
 " Bake 'em," was the reply. 
 " Thank you. Good-night." 
 « Good-night." 
 
 The millionaire was awakened at half-past five. 
 Starting up, he found his clothes lying in a neat 
 bundle on the foot of his plank. 
 
 There was an immediate babble, which rendered 
 any further sleep impossible, so he sat up and looked 
 about him. 
 
 "Mornin', matey; 'qw did you sleep?" said the 
 specimen. 
 
li. 
 
 GOES TO THE WORKHOUSE 
 
 121 
 
 "Exceedingly well," replied the millionaire, "much 
 better than I thought was possible." 
 
 " Nah you '11 'ave to 'urry up an' git dahn to break- 
 fast. They don't sahnd no gong in this yer 'otel." 
 
 The millionaire dressed hurriedly, and followed the 
 specimen. 
 
 " I s'pose you won't care for the breakfus'." 
 
 " Oh, I 'm— I 'm really not particular." 
 
 " No more are they. I expec', though, it 's the first 
 time you '11 have 'ad a meal of sawdust and water" 
 
 "Is that the breakfast?" asked Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith faintly. 
 
 "That 'sit" 
 
 " I 'd— I 'd really rather go out now," said he ; "I 
 don't feel like eating anything." 
 
 " Go aht nah?" said the specimen. « W'y, you must 
 be a green 'un. Don't you know you cawn't go aht 
 to-d'y?" 
 
 "Not go out to-day?" said Mr. Pownceby-Smith. 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "W'y, simply thet, in course. You cawn't get 
 board and lodgin' and washin' and attendance for 
 nothin', can you ? You 've got to p'y for it, an' you 've 
 got to do a d'y's work." 
 
 " Do you mean that they will require me to remain 
 in here all day to-day ? " 
 " As sure 
 
 heggs hain't happles. But they '11 give 
 
 v;: 
 
 i'. 
 
 m 
 
li 
 
 122 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 you two bounces of bacon, more sawdust an' more 
 water for dinner, an' more sawdust an' water for 
 
 supper, an' a bed to-night " 
 
 "But I can't, I can't; I must go out," said the 
 miUionaire, with a feeling of desperation. 
 
 " Well, it hain't no use carryin' hon. If you do 
 
 they '11 on'y put you in chokey as a refractory. You 
 
 must break three 'underd o' stones, and that '11 tyke 
 
 you all d'y, unless you 're mighty clever at the gyme." 
 
 " But if I go out to-day I can regain my position, 
 
 I can find my friends, and get all the money I require. 
 
 If I remain in, I don't know what will happen. Is 
 
 there no way of arranging it ? " 
 
 " On'y by a trick." 
 
 "What trick?" asked the millionaire with a sigh. 
 " You 'd better 'ave yer breakfas' quiet an* s'y an' 
 do nothin' ! Then go to yer cell an' pretend to try 
 an' break the stones, an' w'en the doctor comes at ten 
 you must try an' git rahnd 'im. 'E 's yer on'y chawnce. 
 The master 's a 'ot 'un, an' would lock you up without 
 'earing a word ! " 
 
 The millionaire felt he could not do better than 
 follow the specimen's advice, so he nearly choked 
 himself in the endeavour to swallow a few mouthfuls 
 of the very dry brown bread. Then, after " breakfast," 
 he was conducted to his cell to break stones in pay- 
 ment of the kindness that had been shown him. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE LEAVES THE WORKHOUSE 
 
 'T^HE cell to which the millionaire was conducted 
 was narrow and furnished with but one window, 
 which was placed at such an elevation as would not 
 tempt the occupant to waste his time on an untempt- 
 ing view. It was, in fact, in every respect rather 
 gloomier than the pictures of prison cells which the 
 millionaire, whenever he had thought of such civilizing 
 factors, had conjured up in his mind. 
 
 There was a large heap of stones at the further 
 end of the cell, and the porter who conducted him to 
 his task was succinct in his instructions. 
 
 " You must wear this shield on your face to protect 
 yourself from the chips," said he, "and you mu^t 
 break them small enough to pass through this sieve. 
 Have you any complaint to make, or do you want 
 anything ? " 
 
 "I am too ill to do the task," said the millionaire. 
 " I was unable to eat any breakfast, and under any 
 exertion of this sort I shall faint. I am not used to 
 
 I 
 
 if' i 
 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 ; f 
 
 
 jl 
 
"H A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 work, as you can tell by my hands, and have lost my 
 a{}[)etite, which renders me very weak." 
 
 " Do you want to see the master ? " 
 
 " I don't want to trouble the master, but I wish to 
 see the doctor." 
 
 '• Do you wish to have him specially summoned ? 
 Remember that you will be severely punished for 
 malingering." 
 
 " I am not malingering," replied the millionaire, 
 "but I do not wish the doctor specially summoned. 
 I will try to do what work I can, but I wish you 
 to send the doctor to me as soon as convenient, as I 
 fear I am far from well." 
 
 " I will report what you say when he comes at ten 
 o'clock." 
 
 With this, he closed the door of the cell, and the 
 millionaire was alone with his hammer, his shield, and 
 the heap of stones. 
 
 He attempted to break the stones, and the task 
 interested him by its very ludicrousness. He could 
 never remember having used a hammer in the ordi- 
 nary way before to accomplish any special object, and 
 he was amused to find how uncertain his aim was. 
 He could not strike, try as he might, in the exact 
 spot he aimed at, and it amused him to see the 
 hammer blundering off at the side, or the stone turn- 
 ing up under th^ iU-directed blow. And then, when 
 
LEAVES THE WORKHOUSE 125 
 
 he had experimented in this way for a considerable 
 time, it suddenly dawned on him that with it all 
 tiiere was not the shghtest appearance of the stone 
 breaking. 
 
 Supposing he had no intention of endeavouring to 
 effect his escape, and, like an honest loafer, had 
 attempted the allotted toil, he would have made but 
 httle headway. Surely, if he saw the necessity, he 
 would be able to surmount this difficulty, as he had 
 all others ; and, to test a prowess he might have 
 exerted, he directed a series of blows with all his 
 might against the recalcitrant rock, under which it 
 at length divided. The millionaire was pleased. . 
 Like every strong-minded man, he disliked being 
 beaten, and he plumed himself at not being baulked 
 even by stone-breaking. Then he set himself to 
 pound the stone to fragments small enough to escape 
 the meshes of the sieve. The task was fairly easy 
 while the pieces were large, but when they were 
 reduced in size he found it difficult to concentrate 
 the strength of his blows on them. They had also 
 a nasty knack of flying from under the hammer 
 uninjured, while threatening disaster in their route. 
 This annoying habit of theirs irritated the millionaire, 
 and after a while he perfected himself in a practice' 
 which obviated the difficulty. This was to hold the 
 stone in position until the hammer was about to 
 
 Mi^ 
 
 ? • 
 
126 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 descend on it. This seemed to have the effect 
 of guidinfr the blow more surely, and by adopting 
 this expedient he was successful in getting quite a 
 heap of stones to pass through the sieve. 
 
 But with practice grew temerity, and temerity led 
 to disaster. The millionaire kept his hand too long 
 on the stone, or the hammer was aimed less precisely 
 than usual, but, however it happened, the result was 
 that it descended with crushing force on the million- 
 aire's thumb. Mr. Pownceby-Smith yelled with the 
 pain, and danced round the narrow limits of his cell 
 hugging his injured member under the arm of its 
 fellow until, chancing to step on one of the stones 
 of his own fashioning, he slipped and fell on the 
 heap— a vagabond on a vagabond's throne. 
 
 There was no help for it now ; even if he had not 
 intended adopting a ruse to iriHuence the doctor he 
 was now unable to break any more stones, and his 
 thumb would be all the better for some medical 
 attention. He would, however, gladly put up with 
 the inconvenience if it influenced the doctor to 
 excuse him from any further work. 
 
 It was a weary experience, the waiting for nearly 
 three hours before the doctor came, with a cheerless 
 view of four unlovely walls and an accusing heap 
 of stones at his feet. But, slowly as the hands of the 
 clock travel, they reach their destination surely, and 
 
LEAVES THE WORKHOUSE 127 
 
 It was with a feeling of thankfulness that the mil- 
 lionaire heard the various town clocks striking an 
 hour he knew to be ten. He could not count the 
 hour, because the strokes of one intermingled with 
 another, which differed only by about a semi-tone, 
 and then another broke in with a distracting difference 
 of key, which made him unable to decide which of 
 the semi-tones was the clock he was originally count- 
 ing. He had endeavoured to distinguish, but when 
 he counted eleven he knew he was wrong. The clash 
 of pitches continued for some tiine and then ceased. 
 
 The millionaire waited impatiently, but he had 
 to listen to the chiming of the quarter and the half- 
 hour before the doctor came. 
 
 " Well," said he when he arrived— and he cast a 
 curious glance at the abundance of unmolested stones 
 — •' have you any complaint to make ? " 
 
 "I am very ill, doctor, and weak," said the 
 millionaire, with an attempt at suitable tones. 
 
 " Open your waistcoat" 
 
 The millionaire, with a smothered desire to rebel, 
 obeyed. 
 
 The doctor applied the stethoscope. 
 " I can't find anything the matter," said he. 
 " I was unable to eat this morning ; I have had no 
 food." 
 
 " I suppose it wasn't good enough," said he, ' but 
 
 
128 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 if it's wholesome I think that is all paupers should 
 require." 
 
 "That may be," said the millionaire, with a faint 
 show of heat he was unable to repress, "but I don't 
 think it worth a day's hard work." 
 
 " Well, it 's a voluntary bargain ; you need not 
 have accepted it. We didn't ask you to come in 
 and sleep in our beds and eat our food." 
 
 " I understand that this was provided as a charity 
 to the destitute, and not as a commercial trans- 
 action." , 
 
 " You 're not asked to understand anything. The 
 rules are there, and as you have chosen to avail 
 yourself of them, you must carry them out." 
 
 " I understood that in England citizens were free 
 What right have the officials of this place to detain 
 
 me— practically to imprison me " 
 
 " Are you not English ? " 
 " No, thank Heaven ; I'm an American." 
 "Well, I suppose you have workhouses in America?" 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith had taken such little interest 
 in such affairs that he was quite in the dark as to the 
 American method of treating the destitute, but with 
 a native shrewdness he relied on bluff as the best 
 substitute for knowledge. So he said ; 
 
 "We have, and when a citizen is hard pushed for 
 a night we shelter him. and rely on his paying for 
 
LEAVES THE WORKHOUSE ,29 
 
 the accommodation when he can. I say that it is 
 agamst your own law to detain me." 
 
 "But we are doing nothing of the sort. You 
 accepted certain assistance, in return for which you 
 agreed to do certain work." 
 
 "I didn't agree; I know nothing about the con- 
 ditions. I must go to my friends to-day-I am a 
 well-known citizen of New York-and then my 
 affairs will be set right. I say that I should not 
 be detamed. It is practically condemning a man 
 to imprisonment who has committed no offence I 
 shall pay for what you have done for me, and in any 
 case your remedy is to sue me for payment, not to 
 imprison me on a hard labour sentence without trial " 
 "You should see the master. He deals with all 
 this sort of thing-only I hate these rows getting 
 into the papers." ^ 
 
 "But I am speaking to you as a doctor. I am ill 
 and I am not accustomed to work. Look at my 
 hands " ' 
 
 " What 's the matter with your thumb ? " 
 
 " I struck it with the hammer " 
 
 "That's enough. Why the dickens didn't you 
 show ,t to me before ? You are incapable of working 
 through an accident, and at your own request you 
 are discharged. You are sure you don't want to 
 go in the infirmary?" 
 
 ' i 
 
 
130 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 " Certain. I want to go out." 
 " Then I '11 see that you are discharged." 
 It was not long before the millionaire was joyfully- 
 crossing the threshold of the workhouse. Big Ben 
 was striking eleven. 
 
 Eleven o'clock! The millionaire had no hesita- 
 tion as to his course. He would go direct to the 
 bank. The manager, in spite of his scepticism, had 
 been careful to avoid any expressed disbelief, and 
 as he had also promised to make inquiries, Mr. 
 Pownceby-Smith, in spite of his many recent bitter 
 disappointments, could not quite crush a hope that 
 was rising in his heart. 
 
 He was absolutely penniless once more, and so 
 was obliged to trudge the entire way. He had 
 practically eaten nothing, as he felt quite unable to 
 swallow the coarse fare for which an, economic 
 country would have required him to break three 
 hundredweight of stones; but yet he did not feel 
 more than a fairly healthy appetite. He was getting 
 accustomed to repressing the feeling of hunger, short 
 as had been his experience of the amenities of penury. 
 It was not the question of food that troubled him, 
 but the matter of dress. If his dilapidated suit were 
 not good enough for the standard set up by a 
 third-rate temperance hotel, what effect would it have 
 on the manager of the bank ? 
 
 

 LEAVES THE WORKHOUSE 131 
 
 He could only trust to its bad effect being coun- 
 teracted by the reasonableness of the process which 
 had caused it. After all, the manager must see the 
 very essence of genuineness in tne motive which 
 prompted him to resort to such an extremity so as 
 to secure the means of cabling to America. But 
 then a misgiving occurred to him. While it was 
 reasonable enough to believe that he would part with 
 his clothes to cable to New York, would he find 
 it as easy to gain credence for the fact that the 
 sovereign he had obtained was snatched from him 
 by a street urchin ? 
 
 In fact, reflection and speculation sent the mil- 
 lionaire's brain into such a whirl that he resolutely 
 zct himself to avoid thought in any tense. 
 
 The workhouse was, fortunately, not very far from 
 Charing Cross, so that a good brisk walk brought 
 him to it well before lunch-time, and a few minutes 
 later he was once more crossing the threshold of the 
 bank. The clerk who had been so formally attentive 
 and polite was again behind the counter, and the 
 millionaire went up to him, intending to ask for the 
 manager. The clerk, however, received him in such 
 an extraordinary manner that Mr. Pownceby-Smith 
 stood still, speechless and astonished. The clerk 
 stared at him for a moment, and then burst out 
 laughing. 
 
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 m 
 
 Vil 
 
 ,« 
 
 -J ■ t 
 
 ii it ii 
 
 ill $ 
 
 , 
 
 
 
 
 
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 i 
 
132 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 Then turning to a fellow-clerk, who was bending 
 over a ledger behind him, he said : 
 
 "You've won, VVingrave; he's actually turned up 
 again ! " 
 
 " I don't think your conduct is at all what it 
 should be," said the miliiouaire angrily, at which the 
 clerks, who had now crowded behind the counter 
 to stare at him, burst out laughing. 
 
 " You Ve caused me to lose half a crown," said the 
 ck rlv he addressed. " I bet half a crown that you 
 would never have the assurance to turn up again." 
 
 "There's no assurance in it," replied the mil- 
 lioi^aire, " and if you will be good enough to tell the 
 
 manager that Mr. Pownceby-Smith -" 
 
 The clerks at this point interrupted him with a 
 loud and general laugh. The millionaire affected 
 not to hear, and continued : 
 " —has called to see him." 
 
 "If you'll take my advice you'll just clear cut, 
 and not try on the game any more," said the first 
 speaker. 
 
 "You look rather like a Yankee millionaire," said 
 a second. 
 
 " If one of you will be good enough to take my 
 message to your manager you can spare yourselves 
 the trouble of making any further impertinent 
 remarks. I can dispense 
 
 dispense with them 
 
 well. 
 
LEAVES THE WORKHOUSE 133 
 
 "And we shall dispense with you for a time if you 
 remain long enough for us to send for a policeman. 
 Don't you think yon could hit on a better story than 
 to go loafing about in rags talking of being a mil- 
 lionaire ? " 
 
 "I can easily explain to your manager why 1 
 am dressed like this. But why do you all so very 
 decidedly make up your minds that I am an 
 impostor ? " 
 
 "Because we know it now; we didn't know it 
 yesterday." 
 
 " How do you know it? And what is it you know?" 
 "Look here." And the clerk held up a cabinet 
 photo of Mr. Pownceby-Smith taken only a month 
 before he stepped on board the Livania. The mil- 
 lionaire then remembered how he had altered his 
 appearance, and the fact that two days' stubble 
 occupied the shaven portions neither added smart- 
 ness to his appearance nor much of a likeness to the 
 photo. 
 
 "That," said the clerk, "is Mr. >wnceby-Smith, 
 and as you 're no more like him than I 'm like the' 
 Marquis of Salisbury, I should say the best thing 
 you could do would be to go straight out at that 
 door and walk right away as fast as ever you can, 
 and as far as you can, and I should take as many 
 turnings as you can find." 
 
 1:1 
 
 m 
 
 
"34 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 His fellow-clerks appeared to regard this advice 
 as very humorous, and they hailed it with hearty 
 laughter. Mr. Pownceby-Smith had entirely re- 
 covered his composure. 
 
 "Notwithstanding your kindness," said he, "I 
 prefer to conduct my afifairs in my own way, and, 
 if you will be so kind as to convey my message 
 to your manager, I shall be obliged." 
 " You want to see him ? " 
 " Yes, if you please." 
 
 " Very well. But if you don't go out of here with 
 a policeman as a guide, I shall be surprised." 
 
 " I should be extremely surprised," said the mil- 
 lionaire with dignity, "if anything of the kind were 
 to happen." 
 
 The clerks had stared enough, and returned to 
 their books to await developments at their leisure. 
 The one Mr. Pownceby-Smith had addressed went 
 into the manager's room. Returning in a few 
 moments, he motioned to the millionaire to enter. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith obeyed with a cool self-pos- 
 session that almost bordered on haughtiness. The 
 treatment he was being subjected to had roused a 
 resentment in him that made him almost forget his 
 anxieties. 
 
 " Good-morning," said he, as he entered. " I think 
 I had better explain at once the change that has 
 taken place in my appearance 
 
 
 
LEAVES THE WORKHOUSE 135 
 
 * It has no interest for me," replied the manager. " I 
 am only concerned here in the affairs of our customers. 
 Do you still claim to be Mr. Pownceby-Smith ? " 
 " That is my name." 
 
 "You claim to be Reuben Pownceby-Smith, of 
 New York?" 
 " I am Reuben Pownceby-Smith, of New York." 
 " Well, you have up to the present failed to con- 
 vince me, that is all I can say, and certainly without 
 some further proof than your bare statement and 
 
 appearance " 
 
 " I have offered to explain my appearance." 
 The manager waved his hand, 
 "We have obtained the photo of Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith, taken but a short time before he left New 
 York, and it bears no resemblance to you." 
 
 " My clothes do not bear any resemblance to those 
 I wore yesterday," said the millionaire, "and yet I 
 am the same man." 
 
 " How do you account for the fact that the photo- 
 do you deny that the photo "—and the manager held 
 
 up a copy of that which the clerk had exhibited 
 
 " is that of Mr. Pownceby-Smith ? " 
 
 " It is most decidedly my photo ! " said the mil- 
 lionaire. 
 
 "Your photo?" said the manager. "Then why 
 does it not bear some resemblance to you ? " 
 
 
 t: l> 
 
 *li 
 
 ;§; 
 
 in i: 
 
36 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 " It bears as perfect a resemblance as a rather poor 
 photo can bear to the original ; if you will only 
 refrain from arriving at hasty conclusions and make 
 allowance for the fact that I have had a portion of 
 my beard shaved and the remainder trimmed in a 
 different style, you will be able to see it for yourself." 
 
 " When did you have it shaved ? " 
 
 " The night I arrived in Liverpool." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Well, that is another story, and a rather private 
 one. I wished to visit an acquaintance at Bootle, 
 and as I have not seen her for" some years, I was' 
 tempted, on the spur of the moment, to revive the 
 appearance I then affected. If you had a six or 
 seven years old photo of mine you would at once 
 be able to see the likeness." 
 
 "But there is hardly a single point in the tissue 
 of circumstances you have mentioned which is not, 
 in the first place, unaccountable, and, in the second,' 
 mvolves an explanation without proof" 
 
 "However, there is not a single point I have 
 mentioned that is not capable of proof. Take my 
 visit to Bootle. The friend I went to see had re- 
 moved." 
 
 "There! Not a single statement you make but 
 is qualified I " 
 
 "It is not unusual for people to change their 
 

 LEAVES THE WORKHOUSE 137 
 
 residences. My friend had removed, but she had 
 left her address in London: ss, Marsh Parade, 
 Lambeth." 
 
 " Where she is residing now ? " 
 "No; she " 
 
 "Really, sir. I cannot spare time for this— this 
 extraordinary chronicle " 
 
 " Yet the fact that you have been apprised of 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith's journey, and that you should 
 have heard of him before this, would, I should think, 
 !=ugirest to you the taking of special pains In any- 
 thing concerning him." 
 
 " I am desirous of doing so, but I wish to guard 
 myself against being led into a tangle, which- 
 which " 
 
 " You won't offend me, sir I " 
 
 "Well, which looks like the imaginings of a lunatic. 
 You say your Bootle acquaintance does not live at 
 33. Marsh Parade I " 
 
 " I found it was only an address for the reception 
 of letters." 
 
 " How do you explain the change in your clothing?" 
 
 "A man in extremity will seize any chance " 
 
 "Quite so." 
 
 " I sold my suit in exchange for this and a sove- 
 reign, for I wanted to raise money enough to cable 
 to America.'' 
 
 
 I 1 
 
 I Hi 
 
 fi -I- 
 
138 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "And you have cabled?" 
 " No, I " 
 
 "Then whatever shadow of confidence you in- 
 spired in me is gone, for a man in your position 
 with a sovereign at his command would not hesitate 
 
 to communicate with his friends " 
 
 "That is quite true," said the millionaire. "And 
 
 I should certainly have done so, but " 
 
 "Another qualification ! " said the manager. 
 "I can assure you, sir," said the millionaire, "that 
 the most trying experience I have ever had in my 
 life is the necessity to make a series of statements 
 in the face of scarcely concealed disbelief." 
 
 "I am sorry that I cannot oblige you by dis- 
 pensing with the common rules which apply to 
 evidence," said the manager. "My whole interest 
 in this matter is purely an oflficial one. Why did 
 you not cable to America > " 
 
 "Because last night when I had the sovereign in 
 Tiy hand and was looking at it a boy snatched it 
 and ran away." 
 " He did not pick your pocket ? " 
 
 "No; I was looking at the coin, and he snatched 
 it." 
 
 "And why on earth were you looking at it ? " 
 "Why on earth should I not look at it?" asked 
 the millionaire, his patience quite exhausted, "If 
 
 
LEAVES THE WORKHOUSE 139 
 
 one had to account for every action it would prove 
 a very hard matter indeed." 
 
 "Probably. However, at the present moment. I 
 cannot accept your statement that you are Mr 
 Pownceby-Smith. If you are. I am sorry that you 
 find such difficulty in establishing your identity to 
 us. I may tell you that I have myself cabled to 
 New York, and you may rest assured that before 
 very long, with the inquiries that have now been 
 set on foot, all doubt in the matter will be set at 
 rest Good-morning." 
 
 The millionaire, with the vague desire to talk which 
 seizes most people when uncertain what to do, was 
 about to address the manager ; but that official' per- 
 emptorily touched a bell, and Mr. Pownceby- Smith 
 once more left the room and the bank. 
 
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 ^1 
 
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 1 
 
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 IS' 
 
 t V 
 
If 
 
 III 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE MILLIONAIRE MAKES AN AGREEMENT 
 
 OUSTON! That was the next place at which 
 he would recover the lost trail of his identity. 
 The millionaire did not hesitate. He was roused to 
 action ; his temper was up ; he was determined to 
 fight. He would no longer condescend to argue 
 about his identity; he was Mr. Pownceby-Smith, and 
 would demand to be treated and received as such. 
 
 Certainly, if it should become necessary, his most 
 certain means would be to endeavour to ascertain if 
 any of America's leading citizens, who would be sure 
 to know him personally, were staying in London. 
 He could easily recall the names of several firms 
 with whom he had done business i. the past, but he 
 felt that it would be homeless to expect any assistance 
 from them, who did not even know of his having left 
 New York, when the officials of a bank, who ex- 
 pected him, practically shut their doors in his face. 
 
 Euston was undoubtedly the proper place to go 
 to next Anyone would be sure to expect him to 
 
 140 
 
MAKES AN AGREEMENT 141 
 
 have sought the recovery of his luggage, and the 
 milhonaire was now beginning to mould his actions 
 with a view to possible examinations. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith was very hungry, but he was 
 too angry to admit it, even to himself; and very 
 much to his surprise he found himself very much 
 refreshed by his night's sleep on the plank bed. 
 Euston, consequently, appeared to be a long walk 
 only because he was impatient, and also because he 
 was not accustomed to walking. 
 
 He asked a porter, when he reached the station, to 
 direct him how to set about effecting the recovery of 
 his luggage. 
 
 ^ "Better ask at the cloak-room ' .as the reply, his 
 informant at the same time indicating the direction 
 in which he would find it. 
 At the cloak-room he was unsuccessful. 
 " We only deal here," said the official in charge 
 "with luggage that has been placed here, and for 
 which we have given a ticket. Luggage that has 
 been sent to a hotel and returned would come under 
 the head of lost property. You had better go to the 
 superintendent's office and report the facts." 
 
 " But about the bag 1 have described to you, that 
 
 I left in charge of a porter at Liverpool " 
 
 "That also would be lost property. You must 
 include it in the report." 
 
 ft' . 
 
 n !• 
 
142 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 1 1 
 
 At the superintendent's office, Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith found that it would save time to write his 
 statement, so he described the hjggage that was 
 addressed to the Hotel Cosmopoh's, and also the bag 
 which he had retained. 
 
 The answer came back very speedily. It was very 
 brief and to the point : — 
 
 " The luggage returned from the Hotel Cosmopolis 
 will be sent out again to any other address furnished, 
 and will be delivered as speedily as possible, on pay- 
 ment of charges due for transit and storage. There 
 is no information as yet about the other bag, but 
 inquiries will be made." 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith could only express his thanks 
 and withdraw. Here, at all events, his right to inquire 
 about his own property had not brought down on his 
 head the impertinence of wholesale disbelief; and, 
 although it placed his luggage as far beyond his 
 reach as ever, yet he could not but admit that the 
 offer to send it to any other address was an exceed- 
 ingly reasonable one. On reflection, he also noticed 
 that it carried with it to the railway authorities the 
 safeguard of a disposal that might be quoted, and it 
 also secured a receipt for the delivery of the goods. 
 
 The millionaire derived a curious satisfaction from 
 the fact that he had not been shown from the office 
 by a porter, and that his statement had not excited 
 
 
MAKES AN AGREEMENT 
 
 143 
 
 incredulity, but as he glanced at the clock, and saw 
 that the hands were close on the hour of one, ne 
 thought regretfully of the brown bread and water 
 he had despised at six o'clock. After all, there is 
 more virtue in quantity than quality in such matters. 
 He had never thought 30 before, but he was sure o! 
 it now. 
 
 He had but left the offices a few paces when a 
 stranger, whom he had remembered seeing inside, 
 accosted him. 
 
 " You tried a rather tall order, didn't you ? " said 
 he. " There 's a lot, ain't there ? " 
 
 "I don't understand," said Mr. Pownceby-Smith, 
 with the involuntary haughtiness with which he had 
 been accustomed to repel the impertinent advances 
 of strangers. 
 
 "I mean the luggage," said the man, not a bit 
 disconcerted. " You were trying to get the luggage 
 of that millionaire chap, weren't you? I suppose 
 there's a lot of it." 
 
 "Yes, there is a good deal of luggage," assented 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith. 
 
 " Well, come an' have a drink, an' tell me about 
 it," said the man. " Two heads are better than one, 
 and perhaps we may be able to do the trick between 
 us. I could see with half an eye that you stood no 
 chance. They were much too fiy for you." 
 
 •!;;i 
 
 ri. 
 
 Hi 
 
 li ! ■ 
 
 ; H 
 
144 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "I thought they were very civil," said the mil- 
 lionaire. 
 
 "But they're always on their guard when they're 
 civil. I can always smell a policeman when they 're 
 over-polite. But come and have a drink, and we "11 
 talk about it. My name's Sam Jerrett. Perhaps 
 you 've heard of me ? " 
 
 " No, I haven't had that pleasure. But then, you 
 see, I'm a stranger in London. My name's P'y- 
 Smith." 
 
 The stranger roared with merriment. 
 "You'll do," said he when he recovered himself; 
 " that alone is worth a drink." 
 
 The millionaire was surprised at the unexpected 
 mirth he had caused, but he followed his new friend 
 to a public-house in the street approaching the 
 station without commenting on it. 
 
 His friend led the way into one of the private 
 bars, but having pushed open the swing-doors 
 slightly, he hastily withdrew, and led the way into 
 the saloon bar. 
 
 "That was no place for us," said he. "Jenkins, 
 the "tec,' was there. Fortunately, though, he didn't 
 see me." 
 
 The millionaire wondered why the presence of 
 Jenkins should have disarranged their plans, but he 
 oaiu iiumin^j. lie vvaa wuiiucring now ne could 
 
MAKES AN AGREEMENT 145 
 
 manage to secure something more substantial than 
 a drink without too flagrantly overstepping the limits 
 of average good taste. 
 
 "They've got good bitter here," said his friend 
 "Will you have that, or would you like something 
 short?" ^ 
 
 "I'm rather in favour of something long," said 
 the millionaire, with a meaning laugh. 
 
 "Do you mean that you're a bit peckish? Will 
 you have a crust of h ;ad and cheese?" 
 
 "If you'll be sc hvi/' said the millionaire, with 
 shamefaced eagerness. 
 
 The bitter was wonderfully good, the cheese de- 
 hcious, and the bread most palatable. The mil- 
 lionaire thought that the ordinary person is not 
 so badly off, after all, with his ordinary fare. 
 
 "And now," said the stranger, "how about that 
 luggage?" 
 
 "In the first place," said the millionaire, "it was 
 sent to the Hotel Cosmopolis, but, with a careless 
 msolence, the manager there did not reply to the 
 cable which was sent him ordering a suite of rooms 
 There were no rooms to let, and the luggage was sent 
 back to the station. The superintendent says I can 
 have it by sending them the address of another hotel." 
 
 " But don't you think it 's a plant ? " 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 K 
 
 W- 
 
 [ ',1' 
 
 
 >. 
 
 I 
 
 ■I 
 
146 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "Why, getting you to send for them. Suppose 
 they have some handwriting! They'll compare 
 yours with it ! " 
 
 " I don't think mine can have changed in the last 
 couple of days." 
 
 " You 're certain of its being the same, every word 
 and every letter, and even the signature ? " 
 
 " Quite certain." 
 
 " Well, then, I think we can do it, although it 's a 
 risk." 
 
 " I really can't see the risk," said Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith. 
 
 "Oh, well, we won't argue about that. After all, 
 there's a risk in everything. But if the writing is 
 the same, and we can send for them from some big 
 hotel — that's really what they want — I should think 
 we could get them. But it will cost a good deal. 
 A»re they worth it ? What 's in 'em ? Do you know ? 
 "Clothes are not worth much ; we couldn't pay for 
 the hotel with 'em." 
 
 "There's a hundred pounds in English gold in 
 one of the boxes " 
 
 "You 're sure of that?" 
 
 " Certain." 
 
 "Well, that's good enough. And now it's a 
 matter of terms. After deducting exes, we'll share 
 and share -alike. Is that fair ? " 
 
' I ll 
 
 Makes an agreement t^^ 
 
 "You mean that you will take " 
 
 " Half the spoil. What fairer terms could there be 
 especially as you can't get any of it unless I help you ?"' 
 
 "Oh, I don't object," said Mr. Pownceby-Smith 
 and he reflected that he would most willingly sell 
 everything for the power of commanding ten pounds 
 immediately. 
 
 " Then that's agreed. But let us have everything 
 clear. The clothes ain't no use to me. What do 
 you say if we take fifty pounds each of the money 
 and then you keep the clothes and allow me some' 
 thing for 'em?" 
 
 " That will suit me," said the millionaire. " Help 
 me to secure the luggage, and you shall have seventy, 
 five pounds." 
 
 " Well, if that 's agreed, I 'm on." 
 " Then consider it agreed," said the millionaire. 
 "Well," said Mr. Sam Jerrett, "now that we've 
 thoroughly settled this little arrangement of ours 
 we'd better thoroughly agree as to how it's to be' 
 carried out. There 's nothing causes such little plans 
 to be upset, nine times out of ten, more'n a mis- 
 understanding. Whatever story you set out with, 
 stick to it. That's my motto, and that's why I've 
 been so successful. A poor story that vou stick to 
 is ten times better than a good story that you're 
 not sure about." 
 
 tji' 
 
 :i: 
 
 
14$ 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 " Yes, I suppose it is," said the millionaire, quite in 
 doubt as to what his friend was driving at. 
 
 "I'm sure it is," said Mr. Jerrett, "so let us make 
 up our minds what story we '11 tell, and then let us stick 
 to it. Now, you say you 're Mr. Pownceby-Smith ? " 
 " Most assuredly." 
 
 "That's right; only mind you stick to it. But 
 don't have too positive a tone. To say that you are 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith 'most assuredly' is to admit 
 there's some doubt about it People never say 
 'most assuredly' unless they're writing. However, 
 that's only a little point compared to your ai./ays 
 sticking to it that you are Mr. Pownceby-Smith." 
 
 "You need have no fear on that score," said the 
 millionaire, smiling. " I shall certainly always stick 
 to that story." 
 
 " Well, now we must go to a hotel, and it will have 
 to be a big one. I think there I must be Mr. 
 Pownceby-Smith." 
 " You ! " 
 
 "Yes, because your clothes, you see, give you away. 
 But I won't sign the visitors' book in the hall ; I '11 
 have it sent up to our rooms. Then you can sign it, 
 and you can also write the note to the superintendent 
 at Euston. D'you see? I'll say at the hotel that 
 you are a man I 've brought in to see to the fasten- 
 ings of my boxes," 
 
 
MAKES AN AGREEMENT 149 
 
 " I don't sfte the need for all this beating about the 
 bush," said the milhonaire,"but I don't care what you 
 say or do so long as you get the luggage quickly." 
 
 "After all, that 's the main thing, ain't it?" said Mr. 
 Jerrett " Well, come along, and we '11 set to work at 
 once. I know a hotel that '11 be just the place-com- 
 fortable, high-class, out of the way." 
 
 They walked some distance from the public-house, 
 and then Jerrett hailed a hansom. 
 
 "We mustn't waste time." said he, "and we must 
 also do the thing in style." 
 
 " Salisbury Hotel, Salisbury Place, City," said he to 
 the driver, jumping in as he spoke. Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith followed him with a curious feeling of elation. 
 To ride in a cab was in itself some assurance of 
 restitution to his proper place in society. 
 
 "I 'm rather of a speculative turn," said Mr. Jerrett 
 reflectively as they drove on. " This job will cost 
 close on a fiver if it costs a penny, and it may turn 
 out all wrong. You 're quite sure there 's a hundred 
 pounds ? " 
 
 " Quite sure," said the millionaire. 
 
 "Well, in for a penny in for a pound, say I ; and 
 you '11 find I '11 not lose the ship for a ha'porth of tar." 
 
 Mr. Jerrett's conversation on the whole was enig- * 
 matical to Mr. Pownceby-Smith, but he did not feel 
 critically disposed towards a person from whom he 
 
 
 i ■ 
 
 Hi. 
 
 llpi 
 
ISO A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 expected such unlooked-for service ; and his share 
 of this conversation mainly consisted of affirmatives 
 to propositions and statements which conveyed no 
 intelligible meaning to him. 
 
 When the hansom pulled up in front of the Salis- 
 bury Hotel, Mr. Jerrett jumped out, tossed half a 
 crown to the driver, and ran up the steps lightly, Mr. 
 Pownceby-Smith following modestly at his heels. 
 Making his way to the office, he ordered a private 
 sitting-room and bedroom. 
 
 " My luggage is at Euston," said he, " and I w .nt it 
 sent for immediately." 
 " Shall I summon a boy messenger, sir ? " 
 " I would prefer it if you could let one of the hotel 
 porters run up there," said Mr. Jerrett loftily. " He 
 can take a cab, and I should like him to pay all 
 charges for storing and the like. The luggage was 
 sent on to the Hotel Cosmopolis, but was returned, 
 as there were no rooms vacant. He an have the 
 change out of this," he continued, throwing a 
 sovereign on the flap of the window, "if he exerts 
 himself. I am in a hurry for the things, as I have 
 brought this man to see to some of the locks. They 
 were injured in the passage." 
 
 The sovereign proved an effectual remedy for any 
 difficulties that might have arisen, and Mr. Jerrett 
 was assured that he would have his luggage without 
 
MAKES AN AGREEMENT 151 
 
 delay. Then he was obsequiously shown to a sitting- 
 room, which was placed at his disposal. 
 
 "Send up in a few minutes," said he, "and I will 
 have the note ready to send to Euston." 
 
 When the door was closed, he sank into an arm- 
 chair by the fire and stretched his legs. He also 
 laughed softly. 
 " I think," said he, " we are doing the trick." 
 The millionaire laughed sympathetically, and said: 
 "Yes, we are doing the trick, aren't we?" And he 
 wondered why it should be a trick. 
 
 " It's the money that does it," said he. "If I wasn't 
 able to chuck down that quid as though it had been 
 a bit o' dirt, we shouldn't have done it so easily. 
 Well, there's the paper, so you'd better write that 
 note to the superintendent. But, for goodness' sake, 
 write it carefully, and be especially sure about the 
 signature." 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith did not trouble to reassure 
 him, but seating himself at a writing-desk against the 
 wall, he scribbled a hasty note on the hotel paper : 
 
 "Salisbury Hotel, E.G. 
 " Dear Sir,— Be good enough to deliver to bearer my 
 luggage, returned from the Hotel Cosmopolis. He is 
 instructed to bring it to me here, where I am staying, 
 and to pay whatever charges have been incurred. 
 "Yours truly, 
 
 " Reuben Pownceby-Smith." 
 
 
 ;i!. 
 
 I| 
 
 III 
 
 
 ti f^i 
 
iSa A ^AUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 The millionaire handed it to Mr. Jerrett when he 
 had filled the sheet. 
 
 " There," said he, " I think that will do." 
 
 Mr. Jerrett looked at the note critically, ..nd with a 
 certain amount cf distrust. 
 
 " I hope .t will do," said he, " but you Ve scribbled 
 It down rather hastily. I should have thought you 'd 
 have wanted tracing-paper, or something that way to 
 make sure." 
 
 And then it dawned on Mr. Pownceby-Smith that 
 even Mr. Jerrett did not believe in his identity • and 
 with the thought he formed an estimate of Mr 
 Jerretfs character which was not flattering to that 
 gentleman. However, tools are rarely clean, and he 
 concluded that it was better to keep his thoughts to 
 himself. It mattered little to him what views Mr 
 Jerrett held of the proceedings in which they were 
 co-operating. 
 
 Mr. Jerrett rang the bell, and gave the note to the 
 waiter. 
 
 "Give this to the manager, and see that a 
 messenger is sent to Euston as soon as possible 
 Let me know when he goes. Meanwhile we'll have 
 some lunch. I should like to have it served here." 
 
 "Yes, sir; certainly, sir," said the waiter. "I'll 
 bring you the menu in a minute, sir." 
 
 "What are you doing?" asked Mr. Jerrett, turning 
 
MAKES AN AGREEMENT ,53 
 
 round when the waiter had left the room. He was 
 evidently surprised to find Mr. Pownceby- Smith 
 sittmg at the desk and writing industriously. "I 
 shouldn't scribble about too much if I were you 
 Even .f you throw the scraps into the waste-pape^ 
 basket, they have a nasty knack of turning up 
 against you at the most awkward moment" ^ 
 
 The waiter prevented the millionaire from replying 
 by entering the room at the moment with the menu 
 
 Mr. Jerrett examined it with the interest of an 
 epicure and ordered a lunch that even Mr 
 Pownceby-Smith would have approved under the 
 most favourable circumstances, and wines that 
 gladdened his heart by anticipation. 
 
 ';The manager presents his compliments," said the 
 waiter, "and says he has sent a porter for your 
 luggage. It should be here in less than an hour 
 11 there s no delay at the station." 
 
 The millionaire had turned with the intention of 
 replying to Mr. Jerrett's warnings with some heat 
 but the order for the lunch mollified him. After 
 all. It was fortunate that he fell in with Mr. Jerrett 
 and so when the waiter left the room his tone was' 
 not unfriendly. 
 
 "Perhaps it will surprise you," said he, "if I tell 
 you that I am writing to my banker's. Now that 
 
 I have got a hotel addre^^^ r ^h-" i-- . . 
 
 -auic...., I snail u^ ■e^D^^ to avail 
 
 
 , i ■ 
 
•54 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 myself of „,. Hnancial credit; ,„y difficulties are 
 over. 
 
 "Hold hard matey," said Mr. Jerrett; "you must 
 go a b,t slo«, if youVe going to run in harness 
 w.th me. As far as I 'm concerned, I 'm in f„r this 
 "ggage business, but when that's done, I'm done 
 I m not going to try on any further games, and if 
 you re going for his banl<ing account as well as his 
 luggage, all I can say is, hold hard, and just wai, 
 untd I m out of it When I get my seventy-five 
 
 pounds n, be off, and then you can do as you 
 
 blessed well like." 
 
 The millionaire laughed, almost against his in- 
 chnafon. He felt that he ought not to condone 
 his companion's moral turpitude, and yet the situa- 
 tion struck hmi as ludicrous. 
 
 J^" ""? "' ^'" understand each other," said 
 he. I really am Mr. Povvnceby-Smith, and I think 
 you really are " 
 
 "A railway thief! That's what I am," said Mr 
 Jerrett, "and I make no bones about owning up to 
 
 "Well," said the millionaire, "I have arranged to 
 pay you handsomely for assisting me to get mv 
 luggage, and beyond the fact that you have rendered 
 me this assistance I shall inquire no further. But 
 I can assure you that I shall remain here, and that 
 
are 
 
 MAKES AN AGREEMENT .jj 
 
 I have no intention of clearing off. What do you 
 th.nk of ,t_a railway thief helping an American 
 m.llionaire to regain his own luggage?" 
 
 "I'll tell you what I think of it," said Mr. Jerrett 
 dec,s,vely. J , think that you 're deep,.- and ,luckier 
 than I took you to be, but I thi, k for al that 
 they 11 be one too many for you, anu U,at !■ won't 
 be ve,y long before they'll have y._ i„ <,„od. 
 That s what I think. You Pownceby-Smith, the 
 Amencan millionaire! Do I believe it? No not 
 a imle bit of it But I believe there 's some myltery 
 ■n .t, and I hope it ain't a very bad one. I believe 
 you re simply a version up to date of the Tichborne 
 
 claimant. That's what I believe. But don't try it 
 on until j.„ „„^ <,f ,.^ ^^.^^ .^ ^^^ ^^^ y 
 
 and let us finish that job before you start on any." 
 thmgelse. An American millionaire! Great snakes i 
 bu you have got it bad. You're either the most 
 foolhardy rogue I've ever struck on, or else you're 
 
 hold hard. After the luggage comes and I have 
 gone you can do as you like, but till then-hold 
 
 
 
CKAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE MILLIONAIRE LOSES HIS NEW FRIEND 
 
 JYI R. JERRETT'S tirade fairly took the million- 
 aire's breath away, but before he could make 
 up his mind how best to treat it the waiter had 
 entered the room to spread the cloth for lunch 
 During the intermittent periods of his presence Mr 
 Jerrett talked of Canadian rails and American cars 
 in a way that Mr. Pownceby-Smith was quite unable 
 to understand or follow. But it impressed the waiter 
 although he was too well trained to show it much. 
 
 AH through the lunch, which the millionaire 
 thoroughly enjoyed, Mr. Jerrett preserved an even 
 flow of unintelligible discourse about America and 
 American institutions. Mr. Pownceby-Smith was 
 not sorry that it preserved them from any further 
 discussion of his own bona fides or of his companion's 
 avowed delinquency. 
 
 The lunch managed to pass three-quarters of an 
 hour agreeably, and then .Ir. Jerrett ordered coffee 
 and cigars. 
 
 ' jy 
 
! M 
 
 LOSES HIS NEW FRIEND 157 
 
 "You see," said he when the waiter left the room, 
 " I do the thing handsomely, don't I ? And I tell 
 you what— I shan't ask you to share these exes. 
 I'll stand 'em all myself. I think it was rather 
 lucky your falling in with me this morning." 
 
 "Yes," replied the millionaire unreservedly, "it 
 was most fortunate." 
 
 "You'd never have done it without me. You've 
 got the pluck, and you've got the ideas, but you 
 rather want just a little more tact They'd have 
 seen through you for certain, and, besides, you see 
 you had no oof, and you can't do a job like this 
 without oof." 
 " What is oof? " 
 
 "Oof? Why ooftish, posh, money. D'you mean 
 to say you didn't know that ? " 
 
 " Well, you see, I 'm an American, and perhaps the 
 expression hasn't reached New York yet." 
 
 " I say, do you really mean to stay here and try 
 and brazen it out that you 're Pownceby-Smith, the 
 millionaire ? " 
 
 " I most certainly do." 
 
 "Then if you take a fool's advice you 'd do nothing 
 of the sort. You ought to be satisfied to leave well 
 alone. If you get your share of the haul we're now 
 after, you '11 have done a good day's work, and you 
 should be satisfied." 
 
 ;i P, 
 
 J 11 
 
 
 H 
 
if 
 
 158 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "Do you think it's any use discussing it further? " 
 asked the millionaire, and under the soothing in- 
 fluence of the lunch, the wines, the coffee, and the 
 cigars he had well-nigh regained that unruffled 
 serenity which had enabled him to drive amid the 
 ranks of his hungry strikers with a smile of cool 
 indifference. 
 
 " No, I blessed well don't think it 's any use talking 
 further about it," said Mr. Jerrett angrily, "if you are 
 determined to be so pig-headed as to run your head 
 into the noose. However, so long as you don't want 
 me to join in it, and so long as you don't start until 
 I 'm out of the way, it doesn't matter to me." 
 
 " I shall not start until you 're gone, if you like, 
 though if you just glance at that letter you will see' 
 there is nothing for you to be afraid of." 
 
 Mr. Jerrett took the letter the millionaire handed 
 to him. It was a brief note, and ran— 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 "Circumstances have enabled me to put up at this 
 hotel and regain my luggage from Euston terminus. 
 Under the circumstances I shall be glad if you will 
 mstruct one of your clerks to wait on me to-morrow 
 mornmg, and you will be good enough to instruct him 
 to accept my orders in reference to the credit which my 
 bankers m New York have instructed you to place at 
 my command. "Yours truly, 
 
 " Reuben Powncebv-Smith." 
 
LOSES HIS NEW FRIEND 
 
 ' That," said the milh'onaire, " cannot hurt you 
 'No," replied Mr. Jerrett; "it can only hurt 
 
 «59 
 
 I) 
 
 - you. 
 Come, I don't believe, after all, you have the pluck 
 to send it" 
 
 The millionaire touched the bell, and a waiter 
 appeared. 
 
 " That letter is for the post." 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The waiter took the letter and withdrew. Mr. 
 Jerrett whistled low and long. 
 
 "Well," said he, "you've got cheek. I never 
 thought you 'd do it. However, the bank will be 
 closed before that letter is delivered, and they can't 
 get it till the morning. But you deserve to get on. 
 I 'm si:re you would if you only went about it more 
 scientifically. Still, people do sometimes blunder on 
 a fluke of good fortune by sheer cheek. If you pull 
 it off I shall come and see you." 
 
 "You had better not," said Mr. Pownceby-Srnith. 
 " I have no desire whatever to consort with thieves 
 of any description, and, although you are doing me 
 a great service, it is entirely for your own ends, and I 
 shall consider myself completely free of all obligations 
 to you when I pay you the seventy-five pounds we 
 have agreed on. I think if you were to presume to 
 call on me I should be very much inclined to give 
 you in charge." 
 
 
 
 m 
 
i6o 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 " Well, I 'm blowed if that wouldn't be ungrateful 
 even if you were really the millionaire! Anyway 
 so far as you know, I Ve done nothing you could give' 
 me m charge for that you 're not as thick in as I 
 am. And I know perfectly well which of the two 
 of us will be in the stone jug first." 
 
 The er/.ance of the waiter at this juncture put an 
 end to any further discussion. 
 
 "Your luggage, sir/' said he, "has just come from 
 the station." 
 
 "They have been siiarp about it," said Mr. Jerrett 
 unconcernedly, while Mr. Pownceby-Smith could 
 scarce repress the joy he felt. 
 
 " Bring up two more coffees and cognacs, and leave 
 the luggage till I go down and see how I will have it 
 disposed of." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the waiter, and left the room. 
 "I: doesn't do," said Mr. Jerrett, '"to appear too 
 eager. Even if you were the millionaire, and that 
 the luggage really were yours, it might make them 
 suspicious to be in a hurry to grab it." 
 
 The millionaire saw a germ of truth in the state- 
 ment. He had certainly aroused suspicions enough 
 and yet he had advanced no claims which were not 
 thoroughly genuine. 
 
 Mr. Jerrett, as if to further accentuate his words, 
 went to the writing-table and commenced to pen a 
 
 i 
 
I 
 
 LOSES HIS NEW FRIEND i6i 
 
 note. The waiter brought in the coffee. Mr. Jerrett 
 motioned him to leave them on the table, and went on 
 writing. 
 
 " There," said he, rising and fastening the note in 
 an envelope, " that 's how to put them off the scent. 
 Now you just take your time over your coffee, and 
 I '11 go down and set everything right." 
 
 Mr. Jerrett gulped down the brandy, and, Icav ng 
 the coffee untouched, he left the room. 
 
 The millionaire made a pretence of sipping his 
 coffee. He didn't want it, and he was a bit tired 
 of the elaborate machinery with which Mr. Jerrett 
 surrounded the most ordinary proceeding. He picked 
 up an illustrated paper and amused himself by turn- 
 ing over its pages. Twenty minutes soon flew by 
 while he was thus occupied, but 'hen the hands 
 of the clock intimated that full half an hour had 
 passed he began to grow impatient. Five long, in- 
 sufferable, weary minutes passed, and then the waiter 
 entered the room. 
 
 " Well, them there millionaire, are rum 'uns," said 
 he. " Blest if he hasn't changed his mind and gone ; 
 so there 's no boxes for you to see to." 
 
 "Gone?" said Mr. Pownceby-Smith blankly. 
 "Who's gone? What do you mean?" 
 ^ "I mean Mr. Pound-Smith, or whatever his name 
 is. He's paid his bill and slung 'is 'ook. takin' all 
 
 H|i. 
 
 :ii 
 
i62 A PAUPER MILLIOMAIRE 
 
 'is luggage with him. Didnt he tell you he was 
 going ? " 
 
 "No," said the millionaire faintly. 
 " Oh, well, 'e 's gone. But don't iook so blank o^■er 
 it. He 's sent you up this no!e, and I wouldn't be 
 surprised If there wa:^ a fiver in it." 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smi :: took the note and opened it 
 with trembling fingers. It v/as brief:— 
 "Mr. Millionaire, 
 
 "This is to Jet j'oj know that I am paying you out for 
 your sauce. When 1 do call on you now you will have 
 something to give me in charge for. Meanwhile, as you 
 won't be all the time reckoning up your balance at the 
 barik, you might spend a few minutes working out this 
 probiam: why have 75 when you can get 100? Ta-ta, 
 millionaire ! «« Yours 
 
 "S. Jerrett." 
 « Is there a fiver?" asked the waiter anxiously. 
 " No." 
 - "Nothing?" 
 " Nothing ! " 
 
 " Well, we 've got no boxes for you to mend." 
 " You mean that I must go." 
 " Well, that 's about the size of it." 
 
 The millionaire rose and left the room without a 
 word. 
 
 " Poor devil ! " said the waiter, looking after him ; 
 "he does look down-hearted. Anyhow, he's had a 
 jolly good meal." 
 
 
LOSES HIS NEW FRIEND 163 
 
 The millionaire did not pause to make the assur- 
 ance of his loss doubly sure by inquiries. The note 
 that was sent him, combined with the protracted 
 absence of Mr. Jerrett, left no room to doubt that 
 he was still in as bad a plight as ever. Indeed, his 
 position was now rather worse than ever, as he 
 had helped a thief to make away with his entire 
 luggage. 
 
 He cast a hopeless glance along the wall, but the 
 lack of any trace of his property only confirmed and 
 intensified his despair. 
 
 When he went out into the grey stone courtyard 
 he felt too miserable and dejected to walk in the 
 open, and he turned to the right, crouching along 
 in the shadows of the walls, and seeking the 
 narrowest of the narrow streets which crowded there. 
 He wandered on aimlessly, not knowing whither he 
 went or why. There was a clatter of small carts 
 and the rumble of heavy ones all round him, and a 
 shouting from the childish broken treble of the 
 newsboy to the gruff bellow of the drayman. It 
 all made a confused uproar that further confused 
 and irritated his confused brain. It was a pande- 
 monium from which he would gladly have escaped 
 if only he knew where to go, and then out of the 
 noisy confusion came one cry into which every other 
 resolved itself. But it must be an echo of his brain ! 
 
 all 
 
 \l ■ 
 

 164 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 No ! there it was again, and yet again. It was the 
 cry of the newsboy yelling out the feature of his 
 contents bill : — 
 
 "Disappearance of an American millionaire!" 
 It was yelled out in every variety of key, and 
 the fleeting urchins dwelt on the final syllable with 
 a quivering emphasis that sent it thrilling on the 
 heavy air. 
 
 It brought some comfort to Mr. Pownceby-Smith, 
 for he felt that there w^s no longer a fear of his 
 going under now that a hue-and-cry had been set 
 afoot to discover him. He had no doubt that the 
 news referred to himself, and yet he had not even 
 a halfpenny with which he could purchase a sheet 
 to glance at the particulars. He went on and on, 
 but now he had an object in view, for he was in 
 search of the various itinerant paper-sellers, hoping 
 that some of the contents bills might contain the 
 name. 
 
 Presently he reached two high stone buildings 
 standing almost side by side. One was a mis.sion- 
 house; the other was a police station. Each had 
 public intimations posted up outside. That on the 
 mission -house was an appeal for funds, but on the 
 police station notice-board was a placard that 
 brought him to a halt with a suddenness that 
 was like a mild electric shock, It was headed 
 
LOSES HIS NEW FRIEND ,65 
 
 'Di 
 
 descripti 
 
 >isappearance!" and his name, age, ; 
 followed on. Mr. Pownceby-Smith did not wait to 
 read it through ; he only read enough to feel con- 
 vmced that it referred to himself, and then he 
 hastened into the station. 
 
 "I have come in about that notice you have 
 posted outside," said he to the first policeman he 
 met. 
 
 "Which one?" asked the policeman. 
 
 "The 'disappearance' notice," replied the million- 
 aire. " I am Mr. Pownceby-Smith." 
 ^ "Very well," said the officer phlegmatically ; 
 "ycu'd better speak to the sergeant. This 'ere 
 person," said he, addressing a big official in a small 
 office, "'as some hinformation about the disappear- 
 ance. 
 
 "What is it?" asked the sergeant, opening a large 
 book on a small ledge. 
 
 " I have read the notice outside " 
 
 "Well, we've put it there to be read!" inter- 
 polated the sergeant. 
 
 "And all I have to say is, in a word, that I am 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith." 
 
 "Indeed.?" replied the sergeant, taking down a 
 copy of the circulated c' ascription from the wall 
 beside him. "'Age 54. ^uddy complexion, medium 
 height, full brown beard.' You haven't got a full 
 
 
 I 
 
 :f 
 
 Ml 
 
 i : * 
 
 :J 
 
f66 
 
 A PAUPER ivilLLiUNalRE 
 
 ! ''I, 
 
 brown beard. 'Carries an umbrella.' You haven't 
 got one. 'Dark tweed suit, without an overcoat.' 
 The latter part is all right. But there' four wiio 
 have already cailed at different stations, and all 
 of them answers to the description better than you 
 do." 
 
 " It makes no difference to me," said the million- 
 aire, "what tlie others may be like — I am Mr. 
 Povvnceby-Smith." 
 
 " But that is what they all say," said the sergeant 
 with a chuckle. 
 
 " Well, what am I to do ? " 
 
 " I don't know. If you are Mr. Pownceby-Smith 
 it's all right. Our object in putting out the notice 
 was to find you, and— well, you 're found, and 
 there 's an end of it." 
 
 "But I have no clothes and no money " 
 
 "It'll tell against you," sai i the ff .jeant i avely. 
 
 "Still," persisted the millionaire, "the truth must 
 prevail in the end If I tell arv ort of improbable 
 story, surely the police can sift out the truth of 't." 
 
 "If there's any reason for bothering, but ..ere 
 isn't if you are not lost. However, yoir ->lacr is to 
 appiy at Scotland Yard. See Inspectoi jn and 
 if twenty haven't been to him by this time with the 
 same tale is you 're pitching, why, I '11 eat my hat." 
 
 " Then you don't believe my story ? " 
 
LOSKS JUS NEW TRIEND 
 
 167 
 
 "Oh, yes; it ain't worth while disbelieving it! 
 What's the good?" 
 
 "Well, will you advise me what to do? All my 
 luggage was sent on to the Hotel Cosmopolis, but, as 
 there were no rooms there, it was returned to Euston. 
 The one bag I carried with me was lost or stolen, 
 and with it my cheque-book and ready money. The 
 bank which has been instructed from New York to 
 honour my orders demand proof of my identity 
 before I can draw a penny. There's the case in a 
 nutshell. I am Mr. Pownceby-Smith, but I have lost 
 the me- proofs of identity which one only carries 
 for convi..,;ence in handbags and pockets, but never 
 with an id( ^ of using them as evidence. You are 
 an experi. iiced pr 'ice officer; surely you must know 
 
 of some similar l. :ulty, and know how it has been 
 
 dealt with." 
 
 "Well, I never have heard of an office for the 
 
 recovery of lost identities," said the officer musingly. 
 
 "There's no such department at Scotland Yard, and 
 
 the County Council haven't 'ad time to start one 
 
 yet." 
 
 The young officer went into convulsions of mirth- 
 less merriment at his superior's joke, and coughed 
 himself back to seriousness. 
 
 "But, surely," persisted the millionaire, "your 
 ir«.ii.i-- r-.Hvi CAp-eneiiwc miuuig suggest a w'?.y out 
 
 I, i 
 
 HI! 
 
 I ill 
 
i6g 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 m 
 
 of the difficulty. You have a notice outside adver- 
 tising for information about a particular man. Th.it 
 very man walks in and declares himself, and yct- 
 and yet " 
 
 "Well," said the sergeant, "there's no more to be 
 said or done. We only wanted to know where he 
 IS, and if you are him, it 's all right." 
 
 "But then I 'm not all right Have you no inten- 
 tion of helping him when you do find him ? I am 
 without a penny, without suitable clothes, and I 
 am as hopelessly outside the enjoyment of my own 
 possessions as though I were cast in one of the 
 dungeons of the Tower, and all because I have 
 lost my luggage. Surely an accident of such a 
 ctupid description should not allow a person to 
 become— to become submerged." 
 
 "There seems to be a deal of things missing in 
 nature," said the sergeant musingly. "After all if 
 you were to take a lot of people of all sorts together 
 and shake 'em up in a bag as they were born it 
 might be hard to tell the -the peer from Ibe 
 policeman." 
 
 "And everyone do say as 'ow you are awful like 
 the Markiss of Sawsberry ! " interjected the youn^ 
 policeman. '' 
 
 The sergeant forgivingly motioned him to silence 
 " Why, I have heard for a fact that at college they 
 
 
LOSKS HIS NEW FRIEND 
 
 ■69 
 
 have to put different caps on the royalties so that 
 people should know 'em. Take your case ; suppose 
 you were speaking the truth, 'ow is one to know ? " 
 " That 's what I 'm trying to get at." 
 "I don't discredit your word," said the sergeant, 
 "but you're not a bit like the description, or not 
 much at any rate; and whenever a case like this 
 crops up there's always dozens who answers to 
 the description. You can't understand it, and no 
 more can I, but whenever anyone special is wanted 
 there's always a lot of people who think they are 
 meant. If a constituency wants a member, there 'i. 
 all sorts of people who believe that Heaven intended 
 them for the position, and if we advertise for a 
 missing murderer there 's always sure to be a dozen 
 who apply for the vacancy. Competition has be- 
 come an awful evil nowadays. But about yourself." 
 Mr, Pownceby-Smith more than once feared that the 
 sergeant was forgetting his presence. "Have you 
 nothing at all about you that might be accepted as 
 
 evidence ? Have you nothing " 
 
 A thought flashed across the millionaire's mind. 
 " Yes," said he. " Yes, I have ! My shirt ! " 
 The young policeman roared, and tiie millionaire 
 glared at him. 
 
 " And my collar ! " he continued. " They are both 
 marked ' R.p.S.'-^Reuben Pownceby-Smith." 
 
I 
 
 170 A PAUPER MirXlONAIRE 
 
 " If you take my advice," said the sergeant, "you'll 
 be very careful what you are doing. At the present 
 time we are only instructed to report the disappear- 
 ance and invite information, but this here man's 
 a millionaire, and if he's not heard of very shortly 
 the police '11 form a theory, and when they form a 
 theory any marked shirt and collar might prove very 
 
 awkward to you >" 
 
 " But don't you understand ? They are marked." 
 "Just so, and if there's a theory of foul play, 
 it might give you a good deal of trouble to explain 
 how you came by them." 
 
 " I can't say, sir, that you are rendering me much 
 assistance, oaid Mr. Pownceby-Smith. 
 
 "I've said all I've got to say in the matter. If you 
 want to carry it further-you know the old saying 
 about 'going further'— you'd better go to the Yard 
 and see Inspector Dennis." 
 
 "Or p'r'aps 'e'd like to go to the 'Ouse of 
 Commons," suggested the young policeman. 
 
 "The House of Commons!" echoed Mr. Pownceby- 
 Smith. " Thank you very much for the suggestion. 
 It is a very good one, in spite of your intended 
 
 insolence " 
 
 "Y'ere!" 
 
 "And I will adopt it. I know several members." 
 
 «tv 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 THE MILLIONAIRE BECOMES A PETTY THIEF 
 
 'T^HE millionaire inquired his way to Scotland 
 Yard, and trudged on there quickly. It now 
 
 wanted but a quarter of five o'clock, and the problem 
 
 of a night's lodging would soon be a pressing matter. 
 
 On every side of him, and from every gutter, came 
 
 the yell of the newsboys : — 
 "Dis-appear-anceof 'n Amer'can millionai-ai-aire!" 
 He could hear the cabmen, the loafers, and the 
 passers-by speaking about it. They all appeared 
 conversant with some facts, doubtless those in the 
 newspai>er, and yet because of his lack of a mere 
 copper coin he could not gratify a curiosity that 
 was almost insupportable. A street gamin passing 
 by was humming a song, and Mr. Pownceby-Smith's 
 ear caught the words : — 
 
 " 'n American millionaire, 
 Ain't 'e made the people stare. 
 The man that broke the bank at " 
 
 The remainder of the words were lost in the rumble 
 of a passing dray. But what did it mean ? Was he 
 
 m 
 
 
 U, I 
 
 r; 
 
172 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 :l 
 
 not bearing enough trouble in the amount of insolent 
 ■ncredu t, he had to submit to > Must he in ad ^n 
 be a d,ed „,th crimes he .as not even cognisant of P 
 And then he re„,embered the snatch of a song he had 
 heard sung ,n the streets of Ne. York. Tl,! gan n 
 who had , ,„„ ,,, „^^^,^ ^^^^^^^ ^^^ ^2Z 
 
 top c to ,t. But the incident only served to whet his 
 
 hunsdf no longer, and he becl-oncd to a yellin.. 
 newsboy. The urrhm ,-^^ „• ^'-"'"t, 
 
 y. ^'^e urchin lanoveryelhng out the name 
 01 the paper, 
 
 "Paper, sir?" 
 
 thrLr' "'" '° """^^ """ '"'^ => g-d boy/' said 
 the m,„„„a,re coax.ngly. " , haven't got a copper, 
 or Id buy your paper. I'm very hard up, but I 
 want to see about the millionaire badly. Will you 
 obhge me by letting me look at your paper for 
 a minute?" '■ 
 
 The boy stared at him in open-mouthed astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 "Well, s'help me Jimmy!" said he when he re- 
 covered himself .'Wot do you tyke me for_a 
 bloomm perambalatin' free libery? S help me 'tater 
 _^you aven't got a chivvy chase that 's hid for cheek I 
 Ow am I to sell my papers, you b,.ld-headed ol' 
 cuckoo? Paiper! paiper!" 
 And waking the awakened echoes of the street to 
 
BECOMES A PETTY THIEF 173 
 
 shriller reverberations, the urchin trotted away. The 
 millionaire had also begun to move, for from the 
 moment he knew that his request would be refused 
 he had realized the extreme indignity of his posi- 
 tion. 
 
 His visit to the "Yard" had no result, except to 
 mtensify his distrust of public institutions. Inspector 
 Dennis was not in, and a clerkly policeman proposed 
 takmg down any particulars the millionaire desired 
 to submit. As these resolved themselves into the 
 bald statement that he was Mr. Pownceby-Smith 
 that he had lost the ordinary means of proving his 
 statement, and that he had no address to give he 
 left the office feeling that he had done but little to 
 improve his position. 
 
 The beacon of the House of Commons was shining 
 down on him from the Clock Tower, and Big Ben 
 chimed the quarter after five. An elderly man in 
 a loose, heavy great-coat was walking in front of 
 him carrying a number of papers under his arm 
 He held one open in his hand, and seemed so 
 voracious in his taste for reading that he paused 
 under a lamp-post to read. As he shifted the 
 position of his arm to unfold the paper he was 
 reading, one of those in his bundle dropped on the 
 pavement. 
 
 The millionaire stood still, and so did his heart 
 
 !' tl 
 
 
'74 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE ' 
 
 Here was the chance of the prize he coveted A 
 wo„,an wa. coming along carrying a basl<et. Would 
 she w,th the foolish habit people have of interfering 
 wth other people's affairs, see the paper and call itt 
 owner s attention to it ? The millionaire stood on the 
 kerb, and with affected interest gazed into the road- 
 way at nothing. Thank goodness, the woman passed 
 by and either did not see the paper, or was sensible 
 enough not to heed it. Then the owner of the bundle 
 wa ked on without noticing his loss. No general 
 watchmg for a strategical advantage over an enemy 
 could concentrate more thought on it than the million- 
 aire devoted to securing the paper. 
 
 When the gentleman had gone a few paces the 
 m,n,ona.re hurried towards his prize; he especially 
 made haste because he saw a small boy approaching 
 Se,zmg the paper, he folded it and placed it hurriedly 
 n h,s pocket. At the same moment the gentleman 
 n front turned round and looked along the ground. 
 He had evidently become aware of his loss. The 
 m,lhonaire felt extremely guilty, and was conscious 
 that h,s face was flushing; but the idea of givin-. up 
 h.s prize never occurred to him. Holding his head 
 h.gh m the air, he walked on in studied indifference 
 of the obtrusive search which the gentleman was 
 makmg. Indeed, Mr Pownceby-Smith had no pity 
 for h,m, and in his own mind condc„,ned hi„, r„r 
 

 BECOMES A PETTY THIEF ,75 
 
 a parsimonious carefulness which would retrieve a 
 mud- bespattered sheet. 
 
 "Did you see a paper on the pavement?" asked 
 the gentleman, a fussy little individual with beady 
 eyes and the eager aspect of a terrier. 
 
 "I-I don't trouble myself about such matters," 
 said the millionaire loftily. 
 
 " 'E 's got it, mister," said the boy, who had reached 
 them by this time. " I saw 'im pick it up." 
 
 "You hear what the boy says?" said the well- 
 dressed terrier. 
 
 _ "I never listen to street-boys," replied the million- 
 aire with disdain, walking on quickly 
 
 The boy and the gentleman remained in eager 
 conversation, and Mr. Pownceby-Smith had little 
 doubt but that they were building up a very un- 
 flattering estimate of his character. He was conscious 
 that he was guilty essentially of a theft ; but, after 
 all, It was only a newspaper, and he was determined 
 to see it at all hazards. But safety is an instinct 
 with every living thing, and the millionaire did not 
 dare remove the incriminating sheet until he had 
 placed a good distance betw en hIo.-,elf and its owner 
 It was very like the flight 0/ a thief; but humiliating 
 as that was. it had the comprn^.tion that he would 
 soon be able to know what the newspapers were 
 sayjRg about liim. 
 
 II 
 
176 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 WL 
 
 The millionaire hurried through the toy gardens 
 of Westminster and past the sombre Abbey. The 
 mammoth raree-show alarmed him; but he found 
 that by hurrying past the main entrance there was 
 a long stretch of pavement which threatened little 
 risk of interference, and here he unfolded his news- 
 sheet to devour the item of news he was anxious to 
 read. 
 
 The prize he had captured was an evening half- 
 penny, and he soon found what he wanted. It had 
 the same heading as ■ the contents bills, but fuller 
 details were set out in sub-headings. 
 
 "No Tidings since His Landing in 
 Liverpool. 
 
 "A New York Gala Postponed. 
 
 "Mr. Reuben Pownceby-Smith," the article read, 
 
 "one of the wealthiest citizens of New York he is 
 
 reputed to be many times a millionaire — was one of 
 the passengers to England by the s.s. Livania, which 
 arrived in Liverpool two days ago. From that 
 moment all trace of him appears to have been lost. 
 It is assumed that he remained in Liverpool over- 
 night, 8iid travelled to London the following 
 morning, but no definite information of his where- 
 abouts has been obtained. 
 
BECOMES A PETTY THIEF 177 
 
 "His friends have been anxious about him ever 
 since the arrival of the Livania, as it was arranged 
 that he should communicate with them daily by 
 cable, but from the moment of his departure no 
 message of any kind has been received by them from 
 him. Anxiety was turned to apprehension yesterday 
 by the receipt of a cable from his London bankers, 
 who had some grounds for fearing that something 
 was amiss. The authorities at the bank decline to 
 give any information beyond the statement that the 
 facts, so far as they are concerned, have been com- 
 municated to the friends of the missing millionaire 
 and to the police. 
 
 "Already police notices are posted, giving a de- 
 scription of Mr. Pownceby-Smith, and asking for 
 information ; but, with that indifference to monetary 
 matters which an unlimited command of them is 
 likely to engender, no mention is made of a 
 reward. 
 
 " A Reuter's message states that Mrs. Pownceby- 
 Smith is almost prostrate with anxiety, and that 
 a water-gala 00 a most elaborate scale, which has 
 been in preparation for some monlhs, and was to 
 have taken place during the coming week, has been 
 indefinitely postponed, and that Mrs. Pownceby- 
 Smith has arranged to come to England at once to 
 personally superintend the search foi her mi<.ci«fr 
 
 .f'H 
 
 I 
 
 ill 
 
 |i 
 
178 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 husband, should no information of his whereabouts 
 be obtained in the meantime. 
 
 " At Scotland Yard it is stated that no importance 
 is attached to the incident, and that they have no 
 reason to suspect foul play. The notice, it was 
 stated, was circulated at the urgent request of Mrs. 
 Pownceby-Smith. The 'force' is inclined to smile 
 at the whole affair, and they confidently assume that 
 the missing millionaire will be the first to discover 
 himself, and that he will by no means be grateful 
 for the fuss that has been made about his 'dis- 
 appearance.' 
 
 " The description which has been circulated by the 
 police is that of a very ordinary individual, and it is, 
 therefore, not particularly surprising that several 
 ordinary individuals should have seen in the fact 
 that it applies as graphically to them as to the 
 missing millionaire an open sesame to a vast hoard 
 of Yankee dollars. Quite a dozen of these queer 
 cattle have, up to the moment of writing, interviewed 
 the police authorities, and, with precision and per- 
 sistence, advancetl their claim to be regarded as the 
 missing magnate. The attitude of the police with 
 regard to the clamorous claimants is distinctly 
 humorous. They most respectfully and implicitly 
 accept the asseverations of each. As the notice 
 aierd>- asks for information of the whereabouts of 
 
BECOMES A PETTY THIEF 179 
 
 the missing financier, there is apparently no obliga- 
 tion to inquire into the genuineness of the claims 
 advanced. Should the unlikely happen, and one 
 of the claimants prove to be the real Simon Pure, 
 the object of the notice will have been attained." 
 
 Out of the pressman's effort to write a report 
 without any data the millionaire extracted one 
 source of comfort, and that was derived from the 
 knowledge that his wife was engaged in active 
 search for him. She was resolute, plucky, and full 
 of resource, and he knew that she would succeed- 
 but when ? That was the terrible consideration. It 
 is little comfort to a handful of soldiers struggling 
 against an overpowering army to give them the 
 assurance that a relief party is on the road, and will 
 reach them in a week, when it is morally certain if 
 they remain unaided they will He exterminated in 
 a few hours. 
 
 Not for the first time during the last two days did 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith realize how futile and limited 
 were, after all, the resources of civilization. No 
 amount of money will enable his wife to reach 
 England quicker than by the terribly slow process 
 of the quickest boat, and he has absolutely no means 
 of communicating with her, or of letting her know 
 his circumstances. He even, in the light of his 
 recent experiences, conceived it to be evtremelv 
 
 l:(| 
 
 J 
 
 ]f. 
 
i8o A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 likely that if she had actually reached London, and 
 was staying at one of the big hotels, he would not 
 be allowed to pass the hall-door, and would probably 
 be forced to hang about outside until he could force 
 himself into her presence when she came out. And 
 even that might not be successful, as he might be 
 suspected of begging or the intention to assault. 
 
 And then he thought of the many opportunities 
 of making a fortune wliich possibly rub shoulder to 
 shoulder with people who are quite unconscious of 
 them every day of thd week, perhaps every hour 
 of the day. What would he not pay in return for 
 the means of getting c -t >( his present predicament, 
 and how many of tl. .e massing on the pavement 
 but would gladly assist Mm if they only knew what 
 he wanted of them and the price he was willing to 
 pay for it ? But why should he not try to get that 
 assistance? After all, no one could tell by intuition 
 that he was the missing millionaire. Why should 
 he not try to obtain the assistance he was in need of? 
 Two young gentlemen of d/as/ appearance in even- 
 ing dress were walking after him on the pavement. 
 
 " I '11 sport another fifty pounds," said one, "and if 
 that goes I shall leave off." 
 
 Fifty pounds ! The mention of so much wealth 
 sent a thrill through the millionaire. 
 
 " Excuse me." said he, turning sharply and address- 
 
BECC MES A PETTY THIEF ,8i 
 
 ing tliem, " I heard you mention fifty pounds. Will 
 you let me make a proposal to you ? " 
 
 " Well, you wicked old scoundrel," said the younger 
 of the two, "what is it-living pictures, or what? 
 
 The millionaire walked with them, and as they 
 sauntered along-for they did not appear to be in 
 a hurry-lu told them his story fully. They listened 
 to It attentively, but with evident amusement. 
 
 "I can't blame you for laughing," said the million- 
 aire when he concluded, "but I can assure you that 
 even imprisonment, if deserved, could not bring with 
 . It such pain and misery as I have endured during 
 these two horrible days." 
 
 " Well, it 's a jolly good story, at any rate," said the 
 younger. 
 
 "When I heard you mention fifty pounds a way 
 out of the difficulty occurred to me." said Mr 
 Pownct )y-Smith. 
 
 "And that was to get hold of the fifty," suggested 
 the elder of the two, whercxt both laughed. 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Powiiccby-Smith l.untly, "that 
 was exactly it. I ^.ant to cable to my wife ; I want 
 to place myself in communication with my bankers 
 "1 New York, and my business representatives there 
 and those I know in England. In fact, with fifty 
 pounds I could even end the matter t nee by 
 returning to New York- ," 
 
 ! 1 
 
 ; 
 
 , 
 
 I 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-S) 
 
 k 
 
 /, 
 
 {./ 
 
 
 
 /. 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 1.0 
 
 1.1 
 
 ^1^ 1^ 
 
 11-25 111.4 
 
 1.8 
 
 1.6 
 
 Pnotographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 \ 
 
 iV 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 <^ 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^^ 
 
i 
 
 i 
 
 182 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "I have no doubt you would find your way 
 somewhere." 
 
 "I want you to view the matter in a business 
 hght " 
 
 '■ Oh, yes, certainly." 
 
 " I am in want of assistance " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I can see that." 
 
 The millionaire took no notice of the covert sneer 
 or the insolent laughter. 
 
 " If you place fifty pounds at my disposal I will 
 give you five thousand pounds for it " 
 
 " When you have it ! " 
 
 " Of course, when I have it. I am willing to pay a 
 good price for the means of getting it." 
 
 " I say, constable," said the younger of the two, 
 turning suddenly to a policeman who had been 
 walking towards them, and was now abreast of 
 them on the pavement, "do you think you could 
 tell the confidence trick when you see it?" 
 
 " 'As 'e bin tryin' it on, sir ? " asked the policeman 
 with characteristic obliquity. 
 
 "I think this is most ungentlemanly," said Mr. 
 Pownceby-Smith, reddening with anger. 
 
 " I 'm not sure that it is the confidence trick," con- 
 tinued the young spokesman, "and that's why I 
 stopped you. This gentleman says he's a million- 
 aire, but he has no money at present, and he wants 
 
•■\^ 
 
 BECOMES A PETTY THIEF 183 
 
 me to give him fifty pounds, promising that if I 
 do he'll give me five thousand pounds for the 
 
 accommodation " 
 
 " When he has it to give ! " added his companion. 
 " Now is that the confidence trick «• " 
 " Of course it is, sir. Why, it 's one of the holdest 
 of dodges. Will you give him in chawrge, sir?" 
 
 " It would be rather a lark to appear in a police- 
 court, Charlie," said the younger one. " Shall we ? " 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith was too indignant for speech. 
 " It 's an awful bore, a police-court," said the elder 
 one. " You have to wait till your case comes on, and 
 it inay mean hours." 
 
 " No, we won't charge him. We '11 let him go this 
 time. After all, he didn't impose on us." 
 
 The millionaire cast a withering glance at his 
 tormentors, and hurried away in the direction of 
 the Abbey. They laughed, and gave the police- 
 man a tip. The joke was worth it 
 
 li: 
 
 'n 
 
 i ;S 
 
 
 ( I 
 

 CHAPTER XVI. 
 THE MILLIONAIRE FINDS REST 
 
 ^IIE millionaire, by accident, approached the right 
 door by which to gain access to the lobby of 
 the House of Commons. He feared that his shabby 
 clothes might render his entrance impossible, and 
 was rather surprised to find the policeman on the 
 outer door particularly civil. 
 
 " Sir 'Grace 'Umphrey I Yes, sir, straight through, 
 sir." 
 
 He felt at home in his shabby habiliments ir 
 lobby, for in the motley assembly which there c .,- 
 gregated he looked fairly respectable ; indeed, the 
 hall-mark of use gave his suit an accredited hang 
 which made it more presentable than the obviously 
 new articles in which a few earnest-looking but oily- 
 visaged individuals, who were pacing sentry-lengths 
 across the tiled floor, were habited. 
 
 " Is it usually long before a member comes out 
 when you send in a card?" asked the millionaire of 
 a dark, if not dirty-faced, individual who was stand- 
 
 ing by him. 
 
 184 
 
FINDS REST 
 
 185 
 
 Silence! Stand back!" yelled a policeman, 
 awaking the echoes round the massive chandelier 
 and making the millionaire jump. At the same' 
 moment a bell rang, and there was a flurrying and 
 scurrying which made the millionaire wonder if 
 some accident had happened. 
 
 "It's on'y a division," said the dark man. "As 
 regards the cawd, you '11 be lucky if you 'ear of it 
 in an 'our. W'enever I wants to see a member 
 pertickler I goes in the orfice over there and tele- 
 grauphs to 'im that I 'm hout in the lobby. My 
 union p'ys for it. you know. Who may you be 
 a-wantin' to see? John Hern?" 
 " No. I don't know Mr. Hern." 
 •' Not know John Hern ! Well, I 'm blest ! " 
 " I Ve come to see Sir Horace Humphrey." 
 " Sir 'Grace 'Umphrey-oh, 'e 's a rotter I 'E ain't 
 no good to the working-man. Wot are you goin' to 
 see 'im abaht? 'Ere, come along; 'ere's the cawrds 
 back." 
 
 The millionaire followed his quondam acquaintance 
 and joined in a crowd tnat gathered round one of the' 
 attendants, who was reading out a pack of cards for 
 their edification. 
 
 His jargon was unintelligible hi the main to the 
 m.lhonaire, but one name rang out with special 
 distmctness— " Sir 'Grace 'Umphrey." 
 
 if 
 
 I 
 
i86 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 It happened to be the last one, too, and the oracle 
 added — 
 
 " Not in the 'Ouse 1 " 
 
 " What does it mean ? " said the millionaire. 
 
 " Why, it means," said the dark man, " that he ain't 
 'ere; that you can't see 'im ; that probably 'e hain't 
 in tahn." 
 
 " Heavens ! " said the millionaire. " What shall I 
 do?" 
 
 "'Ere, I say, ol' chap, wot's the matter? Come 
 an' sit dahn over 'ere, an' I '11 see if I can 'elp you." 
 
 The millionaire went with him. and sat on one of 
 the comfortable lounges that are placed against the 
 wall. 
 
 " Have you seen the paper to-night," he asked the 
 dark man, "and noticed that account of the missing 
 American ? " 
 
 "The millionaire? Yes, I read that. A rum case, 
 ain't it? But I reckon 'e's not lawst; 'e's out on 
 the ran-dan, 'avin' a spree." 
 
 " I am the millionaire." 
 
 " Oh, come, cheese it " 
 
 " Yes, I know. I daresay you think I 'm a wan- 
 dering lunatic; but it's true. Imagine for yourself 
 any man placed apart from his friends and without 
 money; isn't he in danger of starving in this great 
 and terrible city " 
 
FINDS REST 
 
 187 
 
 The millionaire broke off in his speech. He was 
 using as an argument the very point the Socialist 
 had urged in their discussion on board the Livania, 
 and which he had then so contemptuously and even 
 angrily rejected. 
 
 " It 's right enough, so far as that goes," said the 
 dark-faced man; "there's precious few willin' to 
 'elp, and fewer still to believe anythink you say." 
 
 " Then, for the sake of seeing my point, accept my 
 statement that I am Mr. Pownceby-Smith. Imagine 
 that I have lost all my luggage and papers ; that I 
 even sold my clothes, being penniless— I can take 
 you to the house, ZZ, Marsh Parade, Lambeth, where 
 I undressed— and that the sovereign I got for them 
 was stolen from me. That is the absolute truth, as 
 Heaven is to judge me. Here am I, a millionaire 
 and destitute, and how am I to get rid of my desti- 
 tution and get back to my proper position ? " 
 
 " Well, you know, blue me, but I don' know wot to 
 s'y. You fairly tyke my breath away." 
 
 "Our civilization is like a maelstrom. Once get 
 out of your position, and you whirl round and round, 
 within sight, but hopelessly out of reach. Drop out 
 of your proper circle, and you can never reach it 
 again. I can understand now the cry of the dis- 
 charged prisoner. Divest a man of his character, 
 and he is placed outside an unseen but impregnable 
 
 I ! 
 
 I I 
 
 » i 
 
 ii 
 
i88 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 barrier which sn«ts him out for ever. I am but 
 rf.ves.ed of n,y clothes and a few articles of luL'" 
 
 h^peiLr '""'""• ''''-''■ "''-'^''' ^■•^^"-d; 
 
 ••Lool< 'ere," said the dark man. -ere's John Hern. 
 I n go and arsl< 'im to talk .o you. If anyone can 
 elp you 'e's the man. •£ can do anything, an' 'e 
 knows all the big swells now" 
 
 hei^h?rf ' "T "' """ '° ' "'''" °f "'««"■" 
 the m,ddle of a lobby looking about him with an eager 
 a.r and a rather too studied appearance of being u„. 
 conscous of the attention he was attracting. He 
 had a dark skin, and a pair of piercing eyes, which 
 lent immense animation to the face, although the 
 unkempt grizzled hair and untrimmed beard rather 
 injured the impression. He had an odd. jerky habit 
 of walking a few steps hurriedly, and of then stand- 
 ■ng st,ll, as though some new and overmastering 
 thought had occurred to him. At this moment he 
 added to the shaggine.ss of his hair by running his 
 fingers through it. He was by no means the sort of 
 man Mr. Pownceby-Smith would have cultivated a 
 few days before, but now he eagerly watched the 
 result of the dark man's intervention, and was ex- 
 oeedmgly pleased when he saw them both approach 
 
FINDS REST 
 
 189 
 
 Mr John Hern, m.p., laughed when the dark man 
 
 introduced " lu^ n , '"^" 
 
 auced Mr. Pownceby-Sraith, the American 
 
 miliionaire," to him. "merican 
 
 "What is your proposal to me?" he asl<ed "th,f 
 I should brine in a RMI t„ : . ' *"** 
 
 can', H„ii ^ '"""=" >'°" ""''h 'he Ameri- 
 
 can dollars, and that we should share the swag?' 
 
 With t7t;°!:r:,trn^ "?''*= ■""'■^-- 
 
 with wlL t '^^ ^"' ""'■"^ H-mphrey. 
 
 should tell 'r myX? ""'''''' ''"' ' 
 
 "Fire away, then, but be brief, as I have t.„ 
 appomtments for this evening. , ,,, „, Ilk I 
 L mehouse .0 the Isle of Dogs Amalgamated^^. ' 
 of Kennel and Barge Builders ; then I have to lee tu e 
 on technical astronomy in relation to coI^Ta l 
 the Battersea Polytechnic; and I have tft! ' the 
 cha,r at the first committee meeting of e ^ci v 
 
 ^rr^rarrt^'"^-'^^-^'^'-^^ 
 
 vvark lark; and after that " 
 
 "But if you will allow me to proceed" ..M .u 
 
 :~;rori---°-i:i" 
 
 i:^ "1:;- z^^ r- ""' -* 
 pownceby.smithLi:riLi-ro:rmot- 
 
 . ! ■,. 
 
■ i!JL!-i^ i .L- 
 
 190 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "It seems to mc," he concluded, "that my misfor- 
 tunes have dated from the moment I entered into that 
 unfortunate argument with an unknown Sociahst " 
 
 "Oh, he's not unknown," interrupted Mr. John 
 Hern ; " he 's not a bad fellow at all, and would be a 
 useful propagandist of the labour movement if he 
 only had sense enough to see that there can be but 
 one apex to any construction that aims at symmetry 
 and harmony, be it of men or material. He would 
 have made a good lieutenant, but he fails when he 
 attempts to talk from a pinnacle. Nature intended 
 him to work out as directed, not to direct. He 's no 
 leader, and there can't be more than one leader at 
 a time, or the result is chaos. Working-men should 
 know by this time who is their leader, and they 
 should cast the pretensions of these loud-mouthed, 
 would-be leaders who don the cap — who c, a the 
 robes — who— who affect to lead instead of follow. I 
 know him well enough. You fell in with Tom Ham. 
 He was over in America organizing the consolidated 
 strike movement. He should have gone into the 
 Church. We'd have made a bishop of him, if he 
 kept straight, when we got a labour party in office." 
 
 Mr. Pownceby- Smith was getting very restless 
 under the torrent of Mr. John Hern's eloquence, 
 especially as it seemed to be intended almost solely 
 for the dark man's edification, and was delivered 
 
ll 
 
 FINDS REST ,9, 
 
 with an exaggerated emphasis and gesticulation, 
 which in no small degree attracted the attention o' 
 the crowd in the lobby. 
 
 " With regard to my case," said the millionaire, 
 with gentle eagerness; " my wife is searching for me • 
 my bankers would be glad to help me if they only 
 felt officially justified ; the police are advertising for 
 me; and yet I am penniless and homeless to-night. 
 Can you not use your parliamentary position and 
 mfluence to set in motion some machinery which 
 under safeguards, will see to my wants and help me' 
 m such reasonable demands as I may have to meet 
 until my position is re-established ? " 
 
 "Now, look here." said Mr. John Hern, "you are 
 a very clever fellow, and it's a pity for you that 
 there's a difference between brains and banking 
 accounts, or you 'd have a good balance to draw on 
 This is what I think of Mr. Pownceby - Smith's 
 dollars. Every one of ti o .1 is the price of the 
 blood and the sweat of his ill-used workers, and 
 if I could help you or any other honest rogue to 
 secure their return to any member of the proletariat 
 honest or disreputable, I'd do it. But the thin- 'J 
 impossible. You can't do it. The forces of capitalism, 
 personified by the policeman, are all ran-ed against 
 you, and they 're one too many for you. You must 
 give it up; it's no go. I 'm sorry, but all the help 
 
 lit' 
 
 IS 
 
ff^ 
 
 192 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 1 can give you is to advise you not to attempt to 
 scale a wall which is too high for the strongest of us. 
 Ah ! here's Earl Plaistowe. Well, my fellow county 
 councillor, shall I see you at the committee meeting 
 to-night " 
 
 And Mr. John Hern walked off with the new 
 arrival. 
 
 " IJlue me," said the dark man, " what do you think 
 o' that? A real live hearl ! Golly, but don't John 
 mix with the big nobs, an' no mistyke ! Ain't 'e a 
 good sort ! " 1 
 
 "He's done me no good," said the millionaire 
 bitterly. 
 
 "Nah, then, that's the worst o' you chaps," said 
 the dark man. "You hexpect as 'ow because one 
 of hus 'appens to become Hem P. that we can set 
 you hall hup, an' let you dine all d'y on steak an' 
 champyne. You tell anyone houtside that John 
 Hern 'as spent half a hour in private converse with 
 you, an' they'll s'y as 'ow you bought to be a proud 
 an' 'appy man. W'y, wot do you hexpect ? " 
 
 " Nothing," said the millionaire. And he rose and 
 left the palace with unseeing eyes and a heart of 
 stone. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby- Smith was in a very dangerous 
 condition— that of utter, stony despair. When the 
 heart is hopeful, there is no difficulty that may not 
 
FINDS REST ,^^ 
 
 be encoinUcrcd and conquered with safety, for even 
 failure loses its sting ; but when the heart is dead 
 despair conquers all effort, and paralyzes the re' 
 sources of the brain. The stupor it brings with it, 
 too. ,s doubly dangerous, because it has the fatal 
 guise of restfulness. 
 
 Mr. Pownceby- Smith no longer worried, but he 
 no longer strove. There is an indefinable sense of 
 majesty and power associated in all minds with the 
 palace of the law- makers, and the millionaire felt 
 that beyond his appeal there it was hopeless to turn 
 He could not hope to be so fortunate as to meet 
 another angel in the disguise of another Sal, and 
 he could have seen nothing before him now but the 
 loathed resource of once more becoming a "casual" 
 had he roused himself to think. 
 
 But his senses were utterly numbed. He walked 
 on aimlessly, he did not know how long, and he 
 neither knew why or whither. The chiming of the 
 church clocks fell unheeded on his ears. Time flew 
 by. and he wandered on. on and on. through the 
 mists of the night and the wilderness of the streets 
 a mere speck in the myriad of human beings, from 
 among^whom it was soon impossible to distin- 
 
 But his troubles had ended. He wanted for neither 
 Ded, nor supper, nor rest that night. 
 
 N 
 
 t 
 
 t| 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 'I' -' 
 
 MRS. POWNCEBY-SMITH PACKS UP 
 
 'T^HE alarming rumours of Mr. Povvnceby-Smith's 
 disappearance in London — which, broadly, 
 meant England— spread like wildfire all over New 
 York. Before a line of it could get into print, it 
 was being eagerly discussed in every club, taproom, 
 office, and drawing-room throughout the city. How 
 the news had leaked out no one knew precisely, because 
 Mrs. Pownceby- Smith, like a sensible woman, had 
 kept her own counsel, and did not take alarm at the 
 first intimation that reached her of the probability 
 of some irregularity. 
 
 This intimation was from the manager of the bank, 
 who inquired, for his own information, for particulars 
 of the whereabouts of the millionaire. He also 
 cabled a description of the man who had called on 
 him and had used Mr. Pownceby-Smith's name. To 
 this Mrs. Pownceby - Smith cabled back that her 
 husband was staying at the Hotel Cosmopolis, and 
 that the description of the applicant at the bank 
 
 194 
 
JP 
 
 y-Smith's 
 broadly, 
 )vcr New 
 » print, it 
 taproom, 
 ty. How 
 V, because 
 i:ian, had 
 m at the 
 •obabih'ty 
 
 the bank, 
 articulars 
 He also 
 railed on 
 me. To 
 that her 
 olis, and 
 he bank 
 
 HIS WIFE PACKS U? ,^5 
 
 would not in the least apply to him. It was on 
 receipt of a cable from the hotel, denying all know- 
 ledge of her husband, that Mrs. Pownceby- Smith 
 became alarmed, and it was at this stage that New 
 York became conversant with the news, insisted on 
 sharmg her anxiety, and more than outdistanced her 
 in speculation. 
 
 Never was the Atlantic cabh orked with greater 
 ass.du.ty over a particular point than it was in the 
 next few hours. To everyone who was in the least 
 hkely to be able to afford a tittle of information 
 Mrs. I ownceby-Smith despatched a cable. She even 
 persisted m sending one to the captain of the Livania 
 athough she was reliably assured that the vessel had 
 already started on its return journev. The absence 
 of any information by the morning completely con- 
 vmced her that something serious was the matter 
 and she caused the police authorities of London to' 
 be mvoked to aid in the search. 
 
 Having exerted every possible means that occurred 
 to her of expediting the solution of the mystery she 
 turned her thoughts to her affairs in New York 'lier 
 first decision was to take the very next steamer to 
 England, and, as this meant abandoning the con- 
 templated water-gala, she sent round letters of re-ret 
 cancelling the invitations. ^^ 
 
 New York blamed the well-known jealousy of the 
 
 
 
 f! 
 
 
196 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 English for it all. They did not suspect foul play, 
 as Mr. Pownceby-Smith had travelled partly incognito, 
 and had no property with him of any great value. 
 It was all a plan to deprive New York society of one 
 of the greatest events of the year, 
 
 "A little ready English money was all he had with 
 him," was Mrs. Pownceby-Smith's statement to press 
 and official inquirers, " nothing besides this but his 
 ordinary luggage." 
 
 New York was divided in opinion as to whether 
 the incident should be regarded as a direct attack on 
 Republican institutions, or an insidious desire to 
 belittle a respected representative of America's com- 
 mercial greatness. But, whatever the motive, every- 
 one agreed that it was no end of a nuisance, as it 
 caused the much-discussed and long-looked-for gala 
 to be indefinitely postponed. 
 
 It was, therefore, with a sigh of relief that New 
 York read in an early edition that the English police 
 had solved the difficulty, and had already discovered 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith and informed him of the 
 anxiety he had caused to his wife and friends. 
 
 The information was full and circumstantial. It 
 pictured Mr. Pownceby-Smith, unaole to get rooms 
 at the Hotel Cosmopolis, going to the Hotel 
 Compton, where he wa§ found by the officer who 
 had unearthed him. 
 
3ul play, 
 icognito, 
 at value, 
 y of one 
 
 had with 
 
 to press 
 
 but his 
 
 whether 
 ttack on 
 lesire to 
 a's com- 
 2, every- 
 ce, as it 
 ■for gala 
 
 lat New 
 h police 
 icovered 
 of the 
 ids. 
 
 tial. It 
 
 t rooms 
 
 Hotel 
 
 :er who 
 
 HIS WIFE PACKS UP ,97 
 
 The trouble was caused solely by the millionaire's 
 remissness in forgetting to cable his change of 
 address to Mrs. Pownceby-Smith. This interesting 
 Item was spun out to the length of a column, and 
 finished up rather inconclusively by remarking that 
 up to the present Mr. Pownceby-Smith had not 
 cabled in person. 
 
 A rival print appearing half an hour later laughed 
 at Its contemporary's mare's-nest discovery "xhe 
 police had found not one, but a dozen, who claimed 
 to be the distinguished American, and in not a 
 single instance was there any foundation for givin- 
 the slightest credence to the claims advanced. Mrs" 
 Pownceby-Smith had. however, cabled instructions 
 to the police to afford all applicants who, in any 
 reasonable degree, approximated to the description 
 of her husband, hotel and all other necessary accom- 
 modation until she should arrive in England. 
 
 The press, while entirely in sympathy with Mrs 
 Pownceby. Smith's anxiety, was facetious in its 
 comments on these instructions, and expressed a 
 wonder if the hotel accommodation of London would 
 be adequate. It also pointed out that such a re- 
 source could only be necessary in the event of Mr 
 Pownceby-Smith being in a destitute condition to 
 assume which would be to regard the utterly absurd 
 as quite reasonable. Mrs. Pownceby-Smith's later 
 
 % 
 
 .f\ 
 
 
 i ( i 
 
 i 
 

 
 198 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 instructions-that a licavy reward should be offered 
 for reliable information-it commended as a sensible 
 proceeding. 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith experienced alternations of 
 feeling with regard to the newspaper comment which 
 had been excited. At first she was annoyed by it, 
 because she felt that at any moment might come the 
 news that the entire alarm was due to a mis- 
 apprehension, in which case it was more than likely 
 that Mr. Pownceby-Smith would greatly resent the 
 attention that had been drawn to him; but when, 
 with the rcsultlcss flight of hours, she could no 
 longer doubt that something unusual had taken 
 place, she was glad at the sympathetic importance 
 which was given to her anxiety. 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith was not superstitious, or 
 at least she would not admit that she was, even to 
 herself Nevertheless she determined to test a 
 source of information to which she could give 
 absolutely no credence had she not had some latent 
 trust in media which all sensible people are said 
 to scout. In accordance with this resolution, she 
 drove to Sixth Avenue to consult Madame Plarli, 
 a crystal-gazer. 
 
 The rooms of the charlatan were on the first floor, 
 and they were darkened by heavy curtains which 
 were hung across the doors and windows. Mrs. 
 
HIS WIFE PACKS UP ,y^ 
 
 Pownceby-Smith made her way hurriedly upstairs 
 and entered the .oom, which faced the street. A 
 heavy woman of squat build, dressed in black 
 figured satin, rose as she entered. She had been 
 reading a novelette, and took off her spectacles 
 wearily as her visitor entered. 
 
 " I was unable to ask you to make an appointment." 
 said Mrs. Pownceby-Smith apologetically, "because 
 the necessity for consulting you has only just arisen, 
 and I shall be leaving New York to-morrow." 
 
 "You are going a long journey," said Madame 
 Harh, "and you are in a state of great doubt and 
 difficulty." 
 
 "Yes, I am, but I suppose everybody knows that 
 by now." 
 
 "I d3n't know who you are," replied Madame 
 Harii, "so that I get my information from the 
 influence your presence exerts on me. Sit down, 
 and I '11 see if I can assist you. I am not sure of 
 doing so, as my mind has been concentrated on 
 another sphere, and I may not be able to see." 
 
 She placed a chair by a small table, and motioned 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith to be seated. Then she 
 fetched a crystal ball set in a black oaken stand from 
 a cupboard and placed it on the table. Covering 
 it with a velvet cloth, she sat down and took Mrs. 
 Pownceby-Smith's hand. 
 
 
 1\ 
 
 J 
 
 i : 
 
 ■■i" 
 
 if SI 
 

 200 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "You understand," said she, "that what I read. in 
 the glass are mere impressions, and that you must 
 not rely on the truth of them. They are no doubt 
 true enough, but I am not always able to read them 
 accurately," 
 
 She uncovered the glass with a swift motion. 
 
 " Ah," said she, " I can see you " 
 
 "I would prefer if you could see the one I am 
 seeking," interrupted her visitor. 
 
 "I can only see what the crystal contains. But 
 have patience; the figure may change. I can see 
 you crossing water— dreary, long, lonesome water. 
 It is all dark and formless at the end. You go right, 
 and you go left, but you are in a maze, and cannot 
 find the way out. You can do nothing; you are 
 helpless." 
 
 " Is my mission a failure ? Do I return ? " asked 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith. 
 
 "You do not seem to have failed, and yet you 
 have found nothing, but you do not return. I 
 should think you; mission will prove long and 
 difficult, but that you will succeed in the end " 
 
 " In finding him ? " 
 
 " I cannot say. I cannot see it in the crystal. Ah, 
 now I can see who you are searching for. It is a 
 friend — a husband or a lover " 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith looked scandalized. 
 
HIS WIFE PACKS UP 
 
 201 
 
 * He is of medium height, with a full beard. His 
 hair is not black; it is between colours. He is 
 crossing the water, and is happy. ... He is on land, 
 and seems to have changed. His face is not so large. 
 It may be the hair is less, but it is not so large at 
 any rate. He is in a maze, just as you were; he 
 looks right and left, and walks here and there, but 
 can find no way out. And now— this is bad, but J 
 warned you not to trust too much to what I tell you. 
 There are evil influences sometimes at work to mis- 
 represent the truth. You had better not hear any 
 more." 
 
 " Oh, tell me ; tell me everything. After all, I have 
 money, and can see that every suggestion is reliably 
 inquired into." 
 
 •* And you will not act by yourself? " 
 
 "No; I have communicated with the police, and 
 every step will be watched and directed by lawyers." 
 
 " Then it can do no harm to tell you what I see, 
 even if it be not true." 
 
 "No; it can do no harm at all," pleaded Mrs. 
 Pownceby-Smith. "Do, for mercy's sake, tell me 
 the very worst." 
 
 " I can see your " 
 
 "Husband," volunteered Mrs. Pownceby-Smith. 
 " It is my poor husband you are looking at." 
 
 '• I can r-ee him in this maze, it is dark, and he 
 
 
 k 
 
 
 l.:i 
 
202 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 i<i. >ii 
 
 goes round and round. He seems unable to think or 
 does not care; he is like one da^ed. He is struck—" 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith drew a deep breath. 
 "But I cannot say how. He seems to fall, and he 
 «s bound helpless with bands or ropes. It is like a 
 mummy, but that he is not bound all over." 
 " Is— is he dead ? " 
 " I can see no more." 
 
 The charlatan kaned back in her chair, having 
 weanly covered the crystal with the velvet cloth 
 bhe appeared to be exhausted. Mrs. Pownceby- 
 Smith sat bolt upright, speechless with the terror 
 of apprehension. 
 
 "Don't forget my warning." said Madame Harli 
 after a few moments' silence. " All this is quite 
 unreliable. But it sometimes, by chance, is true • 
 and I should advise you to inquire into all accidents 
 such as I have described. It is not necessarily foul 
 play. 
 
 "I wish I could fly to that dreadful, terrible 
 England, said Mrs. Pownceby - Smith. "I shall 
 not forget your warning, but I fear the worst." 
 
 She emptied her purse into Madame Harli's lap 
 and hurried home to instruct her maids to complete 
 her packing without delay. To be quite ready to 
 go gave her the satisfaction of feeling that she had 
 in a way started already on her journey 
 
ii 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 THE PRESS ON THE ALERT 
 
 ^HE disappearance of a millionaire, and an 
 American one to boot, r; ;ed the entire press 
 of London to unusual activity, and the puny press 
 to a sort of Punic warfare. It seemed an easy puzzle 
 —to find a missing millionaire-and the little press 
 worked itself into hysterics in the endeavour to be 
 the first to make and announce the solution. To 
 find a needle in a bottle of hay is, after all, a 
 perfectly possible task, which only requires patience, 
 but there were many circumstances which suggested 
 an even speedier termination to the present search. 
 The Sol was therefore on the alert to outwit and 
 outstrip the Mercury, while the Evening Herald, 
 relying on the co-operation of the Morning Mail, 
 jeered at the eagerness of its rivals, and invited 
 them to wait until the first intimation of the dis- 
 covery should appear in its columns. 
 
 No one thought of looking to Scotland Yard for 
 news, although the officials were said to be active, 
 
 203 
 
 li 
 
 m 
 
S f 
 
 I 
 
 204 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 and an importance had been given to the mystery 
 which placed it within the scope of official inquiry 
 by the fact that, on Mrs. Pownceby - Smith's in- 
 structions, a reward of ;^icxx) was now offered for 
 reliable information, and a full description of Mr. 
 Pownceby - Smith, added to the announcement of 
 the reward, was inserted in every paper in London 
 and throughout the United Kingdom. 
 
 The entire press was soon conversant, through an 
 agency, with all facts that were to be gleaned at 
 the Hotel Cosmopolis, the bank, and the Euston 
 terminus. The only importance attached to the 
 statements was through the fact that the applicant 
 was in each instance evidently the same person. It 
 required no particular consideration for the So/ at 
 once to conclude that it was the imperative duty of 
 the police to discover and arrest this individual. He 
 had evidently known of the disappearance of the 
 millionaire long before his friends had the faintest 
 suspicion that anything unusual had happened, and, 
 consequently, he was the most likely one to be able to 
 solve the mystery, while it was obviously incumbent 
 on him to clear himself of the suspicion which his 
 knowledge of the disappearance must raise in every 
 important mind, should, as it was to be feared, any 
 foul play have taken place. 
 This was the first note of alarm sounded ; but from 
 
THE PRESS ON THE ALERT 205 
 
 the moment the ominous words "foul play" had been 
 suggested the public made up its mind that it had 
 taken place, and more than one scribe, in his 
 eagerness to be graphic, if not accurate, spoke of 
 the " search for the body." 
 
 The EvcniNg Herald scored a point by instituting 
 a search in Liverpool. Its ferret ascertained that a 
 passenger from the Livania, who had given the 
 name of "Thompson," but who was undoubtedly 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith-as both a waiter and a young 
 lady clerk recognized a photo of the millionaire as 
 that of their visitor- had taken a room at the hotel. 
 
 " But," asked the writer of the article, " did Mr. 
 Pownceby-Smith ever leave Liverpool alive, or was 
 he inveigled into one of the dens which are known to 
 mfest the purlieus round the neighbourhood of the 
 Liverpool docks, and there, in the foetid darkness, 
 and amid infamous surroundings, made away with i^ 
 And if the suspicion of murder for robbery is to be 
 entertained at this point, the result of our investi- 
 gations has opened up a new field of conjecture, 
 which suggests a careful and diabolical amount of 
 preparation for the terrible deed. We allude to the 
 fact that Mr. ' Thompson's ' room at the Star Hotel 
 was tenanted that night, but not by Mr. ' Thompson: 
 
 "The facts briefly are these: A waiter and a lady 
 clerk positively recognize the photo of Mr. Pownceby- 
 
 ■^ 
 
 I ; 
 
I'il 
 
 II' 
 
 3q6 a pauper Mi; uonaire 
 
 Smith as that of Mr. ' Tliompson/ the pafisengcr from 
 the Livania who engaged a room; but the 'boots' 
 of the hotel, who late at night received instruc- 
 tions from the man who occupied the room, declares 
 that it was a person of quite a different appearance. 
 The waiter, who served this person with breakfast, 
 corroborates the statement of the 'boots' in so far 
 that, while he declares that the mysterious man 
 endeavoured to keep his face concealed, so far as 
 he was able to describe him it tallied with the 
 description given by the 'boots,' and he positively 
 declared that the individual was quite unlike the 
 photo. 
 
 "The facts, if this evidence be reliable, point to 
 the conclusion that Mr. Pownceby-Smith engaged a 
 room at the Star Hotel ; that he then went out and 
 disappeared ; and that a stranger, who left early the 
 following morning, personated him at the hotel, and 
 departed in the morning uiUi his luggage. Could it 
 be that this stranger had followed him from New 
 York, or awaited his arrival at Liverpool, an 1 h<od 
 seized an opportunity of making away v/ith him ? 
 The affair, in a word, is a tangled skein of mystery • 
 but ae very fact of the illustrious position of the' 
 vicfin. n ' rs ft imperative that it should be un- 
 ravei' i. U vrmld be an indelible disgrace to us if 
 it wert .U.: ved to beco ne one more in the long list 
 
ngcr from 
 ic ' boots ■ 
 1 instruc- 
 I, declares 
 pearance. 
 breakfast, 
 in so far 
 ous man 
 ;o far as 
 with the 
 )ositivel7 
 ilike the 
 
 point to 
 gaged a 
 out and 
 ;arly the 
 )tei, and 
 Zou)c\ it 
 m iiiw 
 inH hr,rl 
 h him? 
 ystery ; 
 of the 
 be un- 
 to us if 
 )ng list 
 
 THE PRESS ON THE ALERT 20; 
 
 of dark deeds unavenged ; and might probably lead 
 to .nt. rnational distrust, as it would most certainly 
 tend to lower us in the estimation of friendly nations 
 The rumour that Mrs. Pownceby-Smith, who is 
 voyaging, to England, is bringing with her a posse 
 of American detectives, should spur our civil forces to 
 the exertion of their greatest strength and the em- 
 ployment of their entire armoury of resource. Let it 
 be the boast of our police that they will be in a 
 position to prese.it Mrs. Pownceby-Smith on her 
 lanlmg with a report which will set her mind at rest 
 and. we sincerely trust, fill her heart with gladness' 
 and joy." 
 
 As if this were not enough for the occasion, the 
 paper also spread itself out in an article dealing with 
 the subject, which consisted of saying the same thing 
 at greater length, and with more superlatives. 
 
 The So/ endeavoured to improve on the Ev.mv^ 
 Herald by affecting to trace a resemblance between 
 the man who called at the Cosmopolis and the bank 
 and the mysterious visitor at the Star Hotel, and the 
 Mercury c^m^ in at the death with a scoffing disbelief 
 in all the theories propounded, recalling the second 
 visit of the stranger lu the bank, when he appeared 
 >n rags, as a sufficient proof that he was a mere 
 rogue, who had borrowed the better suit the day 
 previously. 
 
 tl 
 
 i;; 
 
 I'! I 
 
2o8 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 But the topic was forgotten that evening, when a 
 series of no fewer than three tragedies was reported. 
 One was the mysterious murder of a woman at Acton ; 
 the second was a murder and suicide in a hotel in 
 Russell Place; and the third was the discovery of 
 the body of a boy on Ham Common. 
 
 Once more, with all the vigour of freshness, the 
 stale outcry against the lethargy of the police was 
 raised, and the disappearance of the millionaire sank 
 for the time to an item of secondary importance. 
 
 But the police managed to score off the press a few 
 days later. Mercury men and Sol searchers and 
 Hera/d hunters had filled their respective prints with 
 appetizing accounts of their researches, and at every 
 moment they appeared to be just on the point of 
 making a certain discovery, but in the next issue a 
 new theory was started, which was not much less 
 absurd than the callously humorous suggestion of one 
 journal, that Mr. Pownceby- Smith had gone in a 
 balloon to seek the North Pole. 
 
 While all this fiction was being woven, a series 
 of murders had been committed which made this 
 generally reliable item a drug in the news market. 
 The sub-editors tried to invest the series with the 
 interest of horror by headlining the news rs "The 
 Murder Epidemic," but the public refused to be 
 horrified, and the reports of the sordid, miserable 
 
g, when a 
 reported. 
 
 at Acton; 
 hotel in 
 
 :overy of 
 
 mess, the 
 Dh'ce was 
 aire sank 
 mce. 
 
 ess a few 
 lers and 
 ints with 
 at every 
 point of 
 : issue a 
 uch less 
 n of one 
 ne in a 
 
 a series 
 ide this 
 market. 
 nth the 
 s "The 
 to be 
 iserable 
 
 THE PRESS ON THE ALERT ao, 
 
 he™ by the monotony of repetition. One morning 
 ^ was a bedraggled woman ; i„ the evening it was f 
 male loafer. Two or three children were ffund and 
 clomesfc tragedies numbered nearly half a do. » 
 
 .th.n the week. But the sub-editors had misjud; 
 the,r pubhc, for it was news-false news i n^e 
 other could be obtained-of the millionaire t at " 
 wanted, and so the "Disappearance Day by C" 
 became a padded topic once more, and ^nterL 
 heightened in it as Mrs. Powncebv-Lith-/ 
 drew near. . °wnceby.Smith s arrival 
 
 Only once in the "Murder Epidemic" series was 
 the pubhc mterested. and that was in the discover; 
 of the body of a man in the Thames. It had the 
 sensation of mvstervatfo^i,- . • , " "m tno 
 
 WIS h»lf , T , ^ ^tti-^hmg to ,t because the body 
 - half naked, there was no clue to its identity and 
 the arms and legs were securely bound, so thl; the 
 v.ct,m had apparently been cast into the rivertat 
 helpless condition. The possibility of such a crtae 
 ■n London sent a thrill of apprehension through the 
 
 cTe" tote "' ''' '"'' *" ''"' -- "- "- ^^ 
 clue to the perpetrator, or the manner in which the 
 
 cnme was committed, inspired another franticMd 
 cnbittered cry to Scotland Yard to vind.ca e it 
 e.-:.stcnce and disprove its reputation 
 Thcjnquest on the unknown was adjourned by the 
 
210 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 coroner, not that there was any occasion for it, but in 
 deference to the public excitement. Then, as no 
 evidence was forthcoming, and there was no doubt as 
 to the cause of death, a verdict of " Found drowned " 
 was recorded, and the unknown was interred. 
 
 It was when the excitement caused by this mystery 
 had waned that the police scored, and it was an- 
 nounced in large letters on the placards thus : 
 
 "Disappearance of a Millionaire. 
 
 "Two Arrests this Evening." 
 
 Everyone bought the papers, and the news was 
 substantially the same in each. It was communicated 
 to an agency from Scotland Yard, and there was that 
 tantalizing lack of detail about it which argues the 
 necessity for the existence of the expansive if in- 
 accurate, pressman. The official information circu- 
 lated was as follows : 
 
 " At two o'clock this afternoon the police arrested 
 a couple named Jordan, the keepers of a small shop 
 at 33, Marsh Parade, Lambeth, charging them, on 
 information received, with being concerned in the 
 disappearance of Mr. Reuben Pownceby-Smith, an 
 American citizen." 
 
 The pressmen had now something definite to work 
 on, and the competition was fierce as to whose paper 
 
•r it, but in 
 len, as no 
 o doubt as 
 drowned " 
 id. 
 
 lis mystery 
 t was an- 
 js : 
 
 IRE. 
 
 news was 
 municated 
 e was that 
 irgues the 
 live if in- 
 ion circu- 
 
 e arrested 
 mall shop 
 them, on 
 3d in the 
 Smith, an 
 
 e to work 
 ose paper 
 
 
 
 THE PRESS ON THE ALERT 2,, 
 
 ,: , '" "'= ^^^"' " was a dead heat. There 
 was httle difficulty in eliciting fu„ i„fo™,.,-„„, ,, 
 everyone .n Marsh Parade, the dwellers and the 
 n,ck.owners. were all full of it. The police had got 
 tl...r mforraation from Roberts's, the pawnbrokers 
 and >t was rumoured that the prisoners had pledged 
 w.th them jewellery and other articles belonging to 
 the Amencan millionaire. The pressmen went in 
 a body to the pawnbrokers', the AUr,:,,. Mm/ 
 commg ,„ at the death through having lost his way 
 in trying a short cut. 
 
 Mr. Roberts, senior, was most communicative, and 
 managed to engross attention in spite of the efforts 
 of two junior Mr. Robertses, who endeavoured to 
 an .cpate details, and, failing in that, persisted in 
 reiterating what had been said. Mr. Roberts, senior 
 had the power of enlarging on the most minute details 
 with a wealth of speculation and a flood of descrip- 
 tive embellishment which his auditors must have 
 envied Stripped of adornment, his statement was 
 reduced .0 the bald fact that Mrs. Jordan, whom 
 he knew well as a customer, came to him on a certain 
 evening and pledged with him a suit of clothes and a 
 rug, the fine quality of which had surprised him. She 
 had explained that they were the property of a friend, 
 and he had asked no more. When, however, the 
 
 1^ 
 
212 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 papers became full of mysterious murders and miss- 
 ing millionaires, he became apprehensive, and ex- 
 amined Mrs. Jordan's bundle, when he found 
 sufficient evidence to make it imperative that he 
 should communicate with the police. 
 
 He was extremely reticent about the suspicious 
 evidence he had obtained in his search, and declared 
 that he understood nothing of that nature should be 
 mentioned until it was sworn to at the trial. For all 
 that the Morning Mail managed to get full particulars, 
 from which it appeared that Mr. Roberts had found 
 a letter, which had somehow slipped inside the silk 
 lining of the inner pocket of the coat Mrs. Jordan 
 had pledged. It was written on paper headed " Star 
 Hotel, Liverpool," was addressed to Miss Hettie 
 Martin, 33, Marsh Parade, Lambeth, and was signed 
 "R. Pownccby-Smith." 
 
 The luckless shopkeepers of Marsh Parade were 
 brought before the magistrate the morning following 
 their arrest, and Mr. Roberts, senior, proved receiving 
 the clothes in pledge from Mrs. Jordan, subsequently 
 discovering the letter, and giving the information to 
 the police. 
 
 Mrs. Jordan would certainly have been turned out 
 of the court had she not enjoyed the prisoner's 
 privilege of immunity. She made pointed remarks 
 on tlie subject of Mr. Roberts' bald head, and in- 
 
nd miss- 
 
 and ex- 
 
 2 found 
 
 that he 
 
 ispi'cious 
 declared 
 lould be 
 
 For all 
 rticulars, 
 d found 
 the silk 
 
 Jordan 
 :d " Star 
 
 Hettie 
 J signed 
 
 ie were 
 )llowing 
 jceiving 
 quently 
 ition to 
 
 led out 
 isoner's 
 emarks 
 ind in- 
 
 THE PRRSS ON THK ALERT .,3 
 dignantly asked all and sundry if she hid nnf r ^ 
 ■n Ma.h Parade for .ore .ha'n ^ZU' ult 
 
 tHa?:fT;;rrhr"^°^^^'"-^'-- 
 
 -posed .a. en r„S:the: rra^S .t 
 
 to that produced, ,„ Mrs. Jordan's shop. He after 
 
 wards saw him follow Mr. i j . '' 
 
 behind the shop. ^°"''" ""° *= ?-'<>" 
 
 Mrs. Jordan here volunteered to save all f„ .1, 
 
 --^.ni„,the.aiiahoutit,hu\r:r:: 
 
 Some time later Mr. Stobbs saw Jordan, the male 
 pnsone, entering the house, and after tha Te hl^d 
 
 T I '""'' '''"^^'^ °" ""^ «»r over the slop 
 Three other witnesses hnr^ « -^ ^* 
 
 wunesses bore evidence which in th^ 
 mam, was similar to this Th« u ,• 
 
 04.. deposed that he trnin"rt:«:r:: 
 
 -reweresi;st;arat:::ptr:eermr:: 
 
 efface them, but it had been un.,„c.,,=f„, ' '° 
 
 Mrs. Jordan here appe,.led to her spouse tp 
 
 •'I. 
 
 i 
 
214 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 I : 
 
 explain how the stains came there, but he reph'ed 
 philosophically : 
 
 " 'Tain't no use ; they won't let you talk. They '11 
 'ave it all their own w'y." 
 
 In the end the magistrate adjourned the case for 
 three days, quite convincing Mrs. Jordan that her 
 execution was already decided on by the peremptory 
 manner in which he refused her application to be 
 released on bail. 
 
 The next morning Mrs. Pownceby-Smith arrived. 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith, the moment she landed, 
 was besieged by pressmen, but her lady secretary, 
 Miss Araminta Opp, declared that she had abso- 
 lutely no information to give. She very gratefully 
 accepted the fact, impressed on her by the reporters, 
 that their eagerness to interview her was prompted 
 by their wish, as the representatives of the British 
 public, to assure her of their great sympathy and 
 of their desire to assist her in solving the mystery 
 surrounding the fate of such an illustrious citizen 
 of such a great nation. Miss Araminta Opp assured 
 them again that Mrs. Pownceby-Smith quite under- 
 stood and appreciated their motives. 
 
 The interview with Mrs. Pownceby-Smith duly 
 appeared in the Evening Herald, the Sol, and the 
 Mercury, and Miss Araminta Opp, whose mind was 
 not entirely engrossed by speculating as to the fate 
 
THE PRESS ON THE ALERT 215 
 
 of the millionaire, and who was collecting impres- 
 sions of her visit, decided that the press of England 
 was a wonderful institution. 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith went direct to the Hotel 
 Hatfield, and immediately prepared to enter into the 
 search. Inspector Dennis, who had been apprised 
 of her coming, was waiting for her, and she in- 
 structed him to be brought to her room, scarcely 
 waitmg to take off her travelling wraps, and 
 obdurately declining to accept Miss Araminta Opp's 
 advice that she should have something to eat. 
 
 After all, Mrs. Pownceby-Smith was but a woman 
 and she was a very different woman now, racked 
 by apprehension and anxiety as she was, from the 
 society leader who was planning a gorgeous gala 
 for the delectation of her friends but a few days 
 before. This mysterious separation, coming as it 
 did after a long and friendly married relationship 
 made her realize keenly how much such companion- 
 ship means in the scale of happiness. Her misery 
 was that of extreme loneliness ; her anxiety was the 
 numbing terror of mystery. Mrs. Pownceby-Smith 
 never thought she really loved her husband ; she 
 hardly thought so now, anxious as she was, but she 
 was certain that if she never met him in life her 
 happiness would never again be complete. 
 
 Inspector Dennis was a man of medium height. 
 
 i Hi 
 
 t. i 
 
2l6 
 
 I i 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 He had a clear-cut face, intelligent, b 
 
 ... ' b-"v, uut not sliarp. 
 
 which was set off by a close-trimmed brown beard 
 rhese were, perhaps, the characteristics winch com- 
 bined to give you a first impression which was 
 comphmentary. but not striking. It was an impres- 
 sion that grew on acquaintance. 
 
 " I am so glad you have been good enough to 
 come at once." said Mrs. Pownceby-Smith after 
 motionmg him to a chair. "You can quite realize 
 how anxious I am." 
 
 "You may rely on it. madam," replied the 
 inspector, "that the entire resources of the force 
 will be placed at your disposal to help you in this 
 search. 
 
 "Tell me." said she, "what is the meaning of the 
 arrest of two people? Surely you do not suspect 
 that he— that he has been harmed ? " 
 
 "We don't go so far as to say that," said the 
 inspector, "but his disappearance is very extra- 
 
 ordmary. If he were alive » 
 
 " ^^' ^0"'t-don't suggest that he may be dead « » 
 
 .k'^^vu^^'""''' "°'' "'^'^"'' ^ °"^>' "^^-" to say 
 that .f he be alive-of course he is alive-he must 
 
 himself be aware of the search that is being made" 
 for him ." 
 
 "And has there been no response to the offers 
 of reward and the advertisements?" 
 
THE PRESS ON THE ALERT 217 
 
 "We've had several people come forward and 
 claim to be Mr. Pownceby-Smith. but, of course, 
 they were all half mad or else rogues. The only 
 thing definite that we have settled up to the present 
 is that we have traced your husband to a shop in 
 Lambeth, that the owners of the shop pawned his 
 clothes, that a terrible fight took place in the house, 
 that he was never seen to come out, and that 
 blood was found on the floor. That it was your 
 husband there can be no doubt, as a letter signed 
 by him was found in the lining of his coat. It 
 was addressed to a Miss Hettie Martin. Do you 
 know her?" 
 
 "No; I never heard of her before. But do you 
 think that these people in the shop murdered him?" 
 
 " Oh, no. We simply regard that as a definite clue 
 from which we must work step by step. We know 
 that Mr. Pownceby-Smith went to this shop, there- 
 fore we detain these people until we can trace 
 him beyond it. If we cannot, they must explain 
 his disappearance. That they are largely concerned 
 in It cannot be doubted from the fact of the female 
 prisoner disposing of his clothes." 
 
 "They might have knocked him down and bound 
 him," said Mrs. Pownceby-Smith dreamily. 
 
 "Certainly they might," said the insoector. "It 
 would be very likely." 
 
 
1 
 
 i 
 
 2i8 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 " But you don't mean to say," said Mrs. Pownceby 
 Smith, " that you now await the result of the trial 
 of these two people, and that you are taking no 
 further steps, and are not searching in any other 
 direction ? " 
 
 The inspector smiled a superior smile. 
 "Oh, no," said he, "that is not the way of the 
 London police. But if I tell you what we are doing 
 It is only to ease your mind, and must be in strict 
 conlldence. You must especially promise not to 
 communicate it to any pressman who may interview 
 you." 
 
 " I shall regard all you say as most confidential." 
 " Well, then," said the inspector, " I may tell you, 
 in the first place, that we are searching for Miss 
 Hettie Martin. Who is she? What was your 
 husband's connection with her? What does she 
 know about him ? These are matters which must 
 be satisfactorily answered. Of course. Miss Martin 
 may be able to furnish a complete statement of 
 her doings, and so exonerate herself. If so, we 
 shall not charge her. In any case there is no pre- 
 sumptive evidence against her until the charge 
 against the Jordans is disposed of" 
 
 " I see," said Mrs. Pownceby-Smith wearily. 
 
 "And Miss Martin is not the only string to our 
 bow." added the inspector complacently. "We are 
 
THE PRESS ON THE ALERT 219 
 
 also searching for the man who claimed to be your 
 husband, and presented himself at the bank, and 
 also at Euston, where he tried to get your husband's 
 luggage, and afterwards, in collusion with a well- 
 known railway thief— so far as we can judge by the 
 description— actually did obtain it." 
 " What sort of a man was he ? " 
 "About your husband's height, but he wore close- 
 trimmed mutton-chops instead of a flowing beard, 
 and was dressed shabbily." 
 
 " He was not my husband," said Mrs. I'ownceby- 
 Smith, " so what 's the good of looking after him ? 
 He appears to be a mere thief." 
 
 "Ah! but he had an early knowledge of vour 
 husband's disappearance which requires explanation. 
 Before a line was in the papers about the case he 
 had gone to the bank. How did he know that your 
 husband was not going to turn up ? " 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith clutched the arms of her 
 chair. 
 
 "That is true." said she. "How did he know? 
 He must be found. Shall I offer a reward for his 
 apprehension ? " 
 
 "We haven't applied for a warrant against him 
 yet," said the inspector; "but it is all right. We 
 shall have him very shortly. I have got direct 
 evidence against him, these two letters which he 
 
 i 
 
 f 
 
 ,1 
 

 220 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 wrote-this one to the bank, and the other to the 
 
 superintendent at Euston." 
 
 He handed the papers to Mrs. Pownceby-Smith 
 as he spoke. She took them without much interest 
 but when she looked at them she shrieked and' 
 jumped to her feet. Inspector Dennis was dehghted. 
 He was evidently oii the eve of a discovery. 
 ^^ "Why, man," exclaimed Mrs. Pownceby-Smith. 
 "the man was my husband I" 
 
cr to the 
 
 by- Smith 
 1 interest, 
 :ked and 
 lehghted. 
 
 y-Smith, 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MRS. POWNCEDY-SMITH BECOMES A POPULAR 
 
 HEROINE 
 
 T~^HE newspapers had no reason to complain of a 
 dearth of news for some days to come. Even 
 the lady scribes found matter for comment in Mrs. 
 Pownceby-Smith's ordinary walking costumes, and 
 not a few were enabled to secure the confidences 
 of Miss Araminta 0pp. 
 
 The adjourned hearing of the Jordans' case was 
 looked forward to with keen interest, and by some 
 means or other the evening prints had got some 
 inkling of the (;xci that the hearing of the char-e 
 was likely to have a sensational interest, as Mrs. 
 Pownceby-Smith v/ould give evidence. 
 
 To say the court was crowded would be to say 
 very little, for the court was very little, but the street 
 outside was just adequate to the requirements of the 
 crowd who came expecting to catch a glimpse of 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith and the prisoners. 
 On the case being called a buzz of excitement ran 
 
 221 
 
 ill 
 
222 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 through the court as the solicitor for the Treasury 
 announced that he intended callin.^ Mrs. Pownceby- 
 i^mith, the evidence she had to offer being most 
 •mportant; it would probably decide the future course 
 they might take. 
 
 Mrs Pownceby-Smith entered the box briskly, and 
 went through the necessary formula preparatory to 
 Smng evidence. The reporters sharpened their pencils 
 anew, and several artists might be seen about the 
 court making hurried sketches. 
 
 " Some letters were shown to you last night by 
 Inspector Dennis, I understand?" was the first 
 question put to her. 
 
 " Two letters," was the reply. 
 "This is addressed to the manager of your 
 husbands London bankers," he suggested, handing 
 the witness a letter. 
 " So I perceive," said Mrs. Pownceby- Smith 
 "And this one," said the solicitor, "is addressed to 
 the Superintendent, Lost Property Office. Euston." 
 X es. 
 
 " Do you recognize the handwriting ? " 
 "Ido." 
 
 "Whose is it?" 
 
 " It is my husband's handwritin.r:.'^ 
 " Are yon quite sure of this?" 
 *' I am positive of it." 
 
- Treasury 
 Povvnceby- 
 eing most 
 ure course 
 
 •iskly, and 
 iratory to 
 eir pencils 
 about the 
 
 night by 
 the first 
 
 of your 
 handing 
 
 h. 
 
 ■essed to 
 iston." 
 
 A POPULAR HEROINE 
 
 223 
 
 "Your Worship." said the Treasury soh-citor "in 
 the face of this evidence I am instructed to withdraw 
 from the case." 
 
 "These letters were written after the date on 
 which the prisoners are alleged to 'have been con- 
 cerned in the pledging of the clothes?" asked the 
 magistrate. 
 
 " Yes, your Worship." 
 
 " Do you propose to prove that ? " 
 
 " If your Worship desires it." 
 
 " It would be more formal, and would certainly 
 complete the case as far as the prisoners are con- 
 corned." 
 
 "Very well, your Worship. I will prove the 
 receipt of the letters on dates subsequent to the 
 pledging of the clothes." 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith left the box to enable 
 officials of the bank and the railway station to prove 
 the dates of the receipt of the letters. 
 
 The magistrate then addressed the prisoners in- 
 forming them that they were discharged, and couplincr 
 the information with an exordium against equivocal 
 conduct, which gave their discharge the appearance 
 of being due to luck rather than to innocence. 
 
 The case was practically ended, but the pressmen 
 were fortunate. Mrs. Pownceby- Smith, who had 
 been sitting in the well of the court, rose as the 
 
 n 
 
224 A PAUPER MlLLIONAIPE 
 
 prisoners left the dock. All eyes were instantly 
 turned in her direction, but it did not in the least 
 disconcert her. She had come to the court that 
 morning determined to make an application of a 
 most important character, and she was so much in 
 earnest in the matter that she had not thought of 
 havmg it put for her by a solicitor. Indeed, she 
 would probably have held to the idea of making a 
 personal application if the idea had occurred to her 
 lest it might not be put with the force and earnest-' - 
 ness that would animate herself. 
 
 "Your Worship." said she, "I want to make an 
 application in connection with the disappearance of 
 my husband, and I beg that you will extend to me 
 your sympathy and assistance." 
 
 The reporters here with wonderful unanimity 
 agreed that the lady was somewhat overccme, 
 though it certainly required their experienced ga.- 
 to discern the fact 
 
 " You may rely on it, madam." said the magistrate 
 courteously, "that every assistance I can render you 
 may be counted on." 
 
 "I am much obliged, your Worship. I have 
 come to the conclusion that no further search for 
 my husband is necessary, because I believe I have 
 found him. I have come to the terrible conclusion, 
 forced on me by many circumstances, that my husband 
 
 1 
 c 
 f 
 n 
 
:J5^s'^tesr.^ 
 
 A POPULAR HEROINE 
 
 225 
 
 has been murdered, and has been hidden away in a 
 nameless grave." "way in a 
 
 The newspaper reporters were unahln tr. 
 themselves at this stal and ^"^'^'^ 
 
 of their emotior nde" rr ^ '''"'''"'" 
 "Sensation." <:omprehensive word 
 
 of "anLlTrid"''*'™' "' '" '"°" *^ '""'''^ «""« 
 
 vague apprehensions Z Z I '": "'" '° 
 to do all in their power-1" "^ "" °" *' P°'''^^ 
 
 api^ei:!:'"?- Lrzfr""^ '<•='-- 
 
 positive. BeforeieargCYrxlT^""" 
 fear that my husband was iniln . '■'''°" '° 
 and in vour Pn„r- u ^ ' P"'"'P' "urdered ; 
 
 '" your tnglish newspapers I finrf ,1, 
 
 of the finding of the body o7an u!k '""""' 
 
 the Thames by the docks tIT "^ ■"'" '" 
 husband." ''^' ™" ""as my 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith at »!,;» 
 overcome, though heT!n>f ■"'"' """' ''^^"y 
 
 the relief of mere tears 1:." ""' "" '"""^ f"' 
 cated itself triy If '" '"^"'"' ™"""™'-- 
 
 fact.Mrs.;orda„,f::et:;LT:tr:ub::tt:: 
 
 moment, fairly blubbered in sympathy. "' 
 
 May I ask the nature of the proof o„ ^y,,. ... 
 base this terrible theory? » ^"'' 
 
 fl 
 
 |f 'I 
 

 '-^Wr 
 
 i 
 
 226 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 " I found the full description of the unknown man 
 in the papers, and it tallies in detail with the de- 
 :icription which the police have of the man who 
 called at the bank, at Euston Station, and who stayed 
 for a while at the Salisbury Hotel. I can assure 
 your Worship that since my arrival yesterday I have 
 spent very little time in rest When this terrible 
 dread of the murder of my dear husband dawned 
 on me, I did not hastily conclude the worst. I 
 immediately sent for an artist, and giving him a 
 photo of my husband and the description of the 
 man who called at the bank, I got him to draw a 
 sketch of my husband as he would appear if his 
 beard were altered in accordance with the description. 
 This fancy sketch has been recognized as that of the 
 man who called at the bank, the station, and the 
 hotel by the officials of these three places, so that 
 that proves, if proof were needed, that the applicant 
 was none other than my husband. Then I sent the 
 sketch to the East End, and there it has been identi- 
 fied by witnesses at the inquest as that of the man 
 ' found drowned.' " 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith had made her statement 
 with a clear and calculated preciseness that carried 
 conviction with every sentence. The magistrate took 
 off his spectacles and rubbed them with his handker- 
 chief. It gave him time to think. 
 
own man 
 I the de- 
 nan who 
 lo stayed 
 in assure 
 y I have 
 1 terrible 
 
 dawned 
 ^orst. I 
 J him a 
 I of the 
 I draw a 
 ir if his 
 jcription. 
 it of the 
 and the 
 
 so that 
 ipphcant 
 sent the 
 1 identi- 
 the man 
 
 atement 
 
 carried 
 
 ate took 
 
 landker- 
 
 A POPULAR HEROINE 
 
 227 
 "Well madam," said he, •■ whatever may be thought 
 of the value to be attached to your statement Zt 
 one must admire the diligence with which you hat 
 —a— built up your theory" 
 
 sup1:rir.^^^^'^''*'^--*-^-'«"in3tantly 
 
 the'toun'd? r "'°"'"'''' '"" y" ""*-'-'' 
 the grounds of my apprehension, I come to the 
 
 spec-al point of my application. The .hi tf 
 evidence can be completed only by my tTon 
 
 Identification of the body " -^ ^ ""^^ personal 
 
 " Mad .m " 
 
 exIlt:r'''^''"^"'^°"«°"<'--™-diate 
 
 "That, madam, does not rest with me, but with 
 
 he Treasury authorities. I will, however make a" 
 
 .mmed,ate representation of the facts, and express 
 
 my views thereon." express 
 
 say that I rely on the publicity which the course I 
 have adopted will secure to prevent any wa te of 
 t.me as an hour in a matter of this kind To thj 
 greatest importance." 
 
 Mrs. Pow.iceby-Smith then withdrew. The court 
 emptied to follow her to the street. The news" 
 her independent action had already spread, andlhen 
 she drove away it was amid the cheers rf ,JiZ 
 mpnse crowd. She was already a popular heroine 
 
..•'-"TTT 
 
 228 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 The press united to glorify Mrs. Pownceby-Smith 
 at tlie expense of the police. Not a single sheet 
 professed to accept her theory, while pointing out 
 that the evidence by which she supported it was 
 convincing; but all united in saying that it was a 
 chain of evidence which should have been woven by 
 the police, and not left to the zeal and intuition of a 
 woman. 
 
 Popular opinion was with Mrs. Pownceby-Smith, 
 although the fact was not consoling. To the average 
 theorist it seemed to be impossible that the body of 
 the unknown should prove to be other than that of 
 the millionaire. The artist who had drawn a fancy 
 sketch of the missing man from the original portrait, 
 altering it to the appearance he must have presented 
 had he shaved off a portion of his beard and clipped 
 the remainder, had provided a picture which was 
 recognized without hesitation by the officials of the 
 bank as the man who had left handwriting which 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith identified as that of her hus- 
 band, while the witnesses at the inquest swore it was 
 a likeness of the unknown whose body was found 
 in the Thames. 
 
 The Treasury, usually slow to move, can be roused 
 to the superhuman effort of genuine activity when 
 public attention is focussed on it, and the order for 
 the exhumation of the body was, therefore, speedily 
 
3y-Smith 
 jle sheet 
 iting out 
 d it was 
 it was a 
 /oven by 
 tion of a 
 
 y-Smith, 
 J average 
 
 body of 
 1 that of 
 
 a fancy 
 portrait, 
 (resented 
 1 clipped 
 lich was 
 Is of the 
 g which 
 her hus- 
 re it was 
 IS found 
 
 e roused 
 ty when 
 )rder for 
 speedily 
 
 A POPULAR HEROINE 239 
 
 forthcoming. There was a new sensation in the 
 news, as now the terrible theory propounded by Mrs 
 Pownceby-Smith at the police-court could be put to 
 a final and definite test The police ucre by no 
 means pleased that attention was entireh, engrossed 
 by a theory and solution which had not cnTanated 
 from them, and the entire energies of Scotland Yard 
 were directed to the search for the man who had 
 visited the bank, and had put up for a while at the 
 Salisbury Hotel. From the first, they had regarded 
 the evidence he must be enabled to give as of the 
 highest importance, but in any case it would entirely 
 dispose of the claims of Mrs. Pownceby-Smith. 
 
 The exhumation of a body for purposes of identifi- 
 cation is always a gruesome affair, and is bound to be 
 attended by circumstances which make it one of the 
 most trying ordeals anyone of average susceptibilities 
 can undergo. In the case of Mrs. Pounceby-Smith 
 the mild course of her affections, which had mean- 
 dered in a pleasant flow during the length of her 
 married life, was now at the flood. It was terrible 
 to her to remember that her husband had left her 
 when she was in the midst of selfish preparations 
 for her own enjoyment, which so engrossed her at- 
 tention that she had given but a passing thought 
 to their parting ; and that he, alone among strangers, 
 had undergone strange and unaccountable privations,' 
 
 II 
 
230 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 and finally, had been done to death bound and 
 nelpless. 
 
 What influence the visit to the crystal-gazer may 
 have had on her she could scarce say herself She 
 was far from superstitious, but she believed that coin- 
 cidence often lent itself to give an air of actuality to 
 the speculati>'c pastimes of occultists. Yet so far as 
 she could believe, she was only led to inquire in the 
 d.rect,on she had taken, and had not formed any pre- 
 conceived notions. The importance and value of the 
 crystal-gazer's advice had been that she read with 
 a keen attention the account of the inquest on the 
 unkr,own. The fact that he had been bound, and 
 bore mjuries which might have resulted from blows 
 caused her to remember the advice of Madame' 
 Harl, to invesh-gate "11 such cases; but the evidence 
 on which she had made up her mind was the recogni- 
 tion of the artist's sketch of her husband by the wit- 
 nesses at the inquest. 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby- Smith felt horribly lonely and 
 alone in the world, and the ordeal she was about 
 to go through was all the more trying because it 
 precluded the melancholy satisfaction of being able 
 once more even to touch the companion by whose 
 side she had passed so many years of her life 
 
 The arrangements for allowing Mrs. Pownceby- 
 Sm.th to view the body were primitive but complete 
 
'und and 
 
 azer may 
 elf. She 
 hat coin- 
 uah'ty to 
 so far as 
 e in the 
 any pre- 
 le of the 
 ad with 
 on the 
 nd, and 
 I blows, 
 ladame 
 vidence 
 ecogni- 
 he wit- 
 
 y and 
 about 
 luse it 
 g able 
 whose 
 
 iceby- 
 »plete. 
 
 A POPULAR HEROINE 231 
 
 The work had been executed in privacy-rumour 
 had it that the exhumation was done in the night— 
 and the body was removed in its coffin to an ad- 
 jacent mortuary. It was to this dismal building, 
 tenanted by its suggestive rows of gloomy, dar!< 
 shells, that Mrs. Pownceby-Smith was conducted. 
 The body that had been exhumed was in a coffin 
 furnished with a large square of glass through which 
 the features, now partly distorted by decomposition, 
 were visible. 
 
 The officials warned Mrs. Pownceby-Smith to 
 nerve herself for the shock which the present con- 
 dition of the body was sure to give one not used 
 to such sights, and also strongly advised her to make 
 all due allowance for the change that had taken 
 place, so that she should neither hastily identify, 
 nor declare that she could not recognize it. 
 
 Miss Araminta Qpp had provided herself with a 
 bottle of smelling salts, and she was also carrying a 
 copy of the artist's sketch. Mrs. Pownceby-Smith 
 declined the aid of either. She had nerved herself 
 to be strong, and she thought she was strong. Firm 
 in the conviction, she approached the coffin and 
 looked through the glass. Instantly she recoiled, 
 pressing her hand to her heart. Miss Araminta Qpp 
 put her arm round Mrs. Pownceby-Smith's waist, and 
 proffered the smelling bottle, but was waved back. 
 
 11 
 
232 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "It is he!" moaned Mrs. Pownceby- Smith • "it 
 is he I " ' 
 
 She sat on otie of the trestles, and, hiding her 
 face m her hands, her pent-up fedings found rdief 
 in a great flood of tears. The pity her misery in- 
 spired had a levelling effect on all, and even Miss 
 Arammta Opp did not interpose tc prevent the 
 ordinary officials present from tendering their rough- 
 and-ready sympathies. 
 
 " You had better, ma'am, calm yourself now, and 
 see If you were not mistaken," said a polic. officer. 
 "After all, a first impression when one is upset is 
 not to be relied on." 
 
 "I understand," said Mrs. Pownceby-Smith grate- 
 fully, "and I will endeavour to be calm " 
 
 She rose a moment later, and gazed «;teadily 
 critically, through the glass. She changed her posi- 
 tion even, so that the effect of the light from the 
 windows in the roof might be tested from various 
 points of view. During this examination she was 
 outwardly calm, and preserved silence, and then the 
 tears once more flooded her eyes, and she allowed 
 Miss Araminta Opp to lead her away. 
 
 "Is there any possibility of mistake, madam?" 
 asked an official. 
 
 "No possibility. I am convinced that it is he." 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ANOTHER ARREST 
 
 T T was not the first time in the history of London's 
 crimes that the body of a person mysteriously 
 
 murdered had been identified, but never, perhaps, 
 before har? it transpired that one of these unknown 
 victims was a person of a social importance ap- 
 proaching in any degree to that of the American 
 millionaire. There was, consequently, a more than 
 usual demand for a searching and active inquiry. 
 The authorities were not slow to recognize the 
 importance of allaying public feeling by a show 
 of special effort, and, as a result, a fresh autopsy of 
 the body was ordered. The result of this was 
 awaited with much anxiety, and it disclosed the 
 opinion of three experts that the marks which had 
 been recorded in the medical evidence, but had not 
 been specially commented upon, were in themselves 
 most probably sufficient to have caused death, 
 although death, as a matter of fact, was actually 
 caused by drowning. The victim, it was therefore 
 
 233 
 
 U il 
 
-1; 
 
 I 
 
 ^34 A PAUPER MIfJ.IONAIRE 
 
 clear, had first been brutally injured by blows from a 
 blunt mstrumcnt. and then he had been bound and 
 cast into the water. 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith was only prevented from 
 employing private detectives by the assiduous atten- 
 t.onspaid her by Scotland Yard, and Inspector 
 Dennis practically accepted the position of a 
 confidential agent in her personal service. That 
 astute official soon found that no other possible 
 method would work with this strong-minded and 
 strongly emotional woman. From her no such thing 
 as a bhnd confide.ice was to be looked for. Had 
 they kept her in the dark as to their plans and 
 movements, she would undoubtedly have set to 
 work herself, and might once more prove a formi- 
 dable rival. The police found it a far wiser and more 
 diplomatic course to take her into their confidence 
 and. by acting as her obedient servants, seize what-' 
 ever further advantages might result from following 
 up the courses suggc. .d by her intuitive keent 
 s.ghtednes.. As a consequence of this arrangement 
 Inspector Dennis presented himself every mornin<.' 
 at her hotel, and frequently several times during the 
 day. 
 
 The reopened inquest resulted in a verdict of 
 "Wilful murder against some person or persons 
 
ANOTHER ARREST 
 
 235 
 
 unknown," and then the poor ill-used body was 
 conveyed to a last resting-place, over which Mrs. 
 Townceby-Smith contemplated the erection of a 
 mausoleum which would also shelter her remains 
 eventually. The decision surprised some, as it was 
 assumed that she would convey the remains of her 
 husband to New York. She, however, shrank from 
 the ordeal, and felt that the very memorial she 
 intended raising would stand as a protest against 
 the inhumanity with which they had been treated in 
 a strange country. 
 
 "No news?" asked Mrs. Pownceby- Smith as 
 Inspector Dennis made his usual call two mornings 
 after the inquest. 
 
 "I am happy to say, madam, that there is news 
 at last," said the inspector, with an official air of 
 triumph. " We have never ceased in our search after 
 the Miss Hettie Martin to whom your husband's 
 letter wa-; addressed, and 
 
 " You have found her ? " 
 
 " No ; but we have traced her after the date of the 
 incident at 33, Marsh Parade " 
 
 "Is it not possible to put a stop to all these terrible 
 newspaper articles? Did you see that horrible inter- 
 view with those people Jordan, in which they say 
 that my poor husband was penniless and changed 
 
no A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 W M u "'"'"'""^ ^--^ °" g'«-'«t stum. 
 
 entire cnmmal fraternity of our plans and the 
 d.rect.ons „ „UicH we are .ovin,. But I thL. 
 there ,s httle doubt that your husband by some 
 means lost his money, and that, his luggage beil 
 unava,iab,e. he was reaiiy in such straits as to mZ 
 t necessary for him to sell his clothes, he being 
 
 unable to establish his identity." 
 "But how did it come about? How came he to 
 
 be parted from his luggageP And then why did he 
 
 alter his appearance ? " 
 "These are questions I cannot answer at this stage 
 
 but he explanation will be doubtless forthcoming In' 
 
 wh,ch p™m,ses to go far towards finally solving the 
 mys e^. We have been able to trace this A^ 
 Martm under circumstances so suspicious that we 
 have obtained a warrant for her arrest on the charge 
 of bemg concerned in the murder of your husband " 
 A warrant ? " 
 
 "Yes And there is eve^ indication on her part 
 of the fear mspired by guilt, as she was on her way 
 
ANOTHER ARREST 237 
 
 to Liverpool to take passage to America. She has 
 doubtless been already arrested at one of the inter- 
 mediate stations. If not, she will most certainly 
 be arrested in Liverpool," 
 
 "What have you discovered against her?" asked 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith. 
 
 "She was recognized by a cabman, who knows her 
 well, as the person who engaged him in a street lead- 
 ing off the Embankment on the night of the 
 Lambeth incident and the supposed night of the 
 murder. She was accompanied by a man who 
 answered to the description of your husband. Not 
 only so, but on showing the cabman the sketch you 
 have had made he instantly recognized it as that 
 of the man who accompanied her." 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith felt rather faint. Now that 
 the solution appeared to be near at hand, it threatened 
 to bring with it still further pain. 
 
 "We have traced them to the East End, to a 
 restaurant near the docks, and it was late in the 
 evening when they left. To clear herself, Miss 
 Martin must be able convincingly to account for her 
 doings the remainder of the evening." 
 
 The shouting of newsboys at this moment pene- 
 trated the room above the din of the streets. The 
 inspector and Mrs. Pownceby-Smith went to the 
 
238 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 window. The large lettering on the placards was 
 quite legible. 
 
 "There!" said the inspector, pointing through the 
 window. 
 
 The placard ran : 
 
 "The Murdered Millionaire. 
 
 "Arrest of a Woman at Liverpool." 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 MISS MARTIN PROTESTS 
 
 TV I ISS HETTIE MARTIN was not a very 
 ordinary prisoner. She committed herself to 
 the ve dinary process of " making a statement " ; 
 but i u^ mainly a very uncomph'mentary opinion 
 of the police, and as such was not preserved for 
 the purposes of the case. That she protested her 
 innocence was, perhaps, to be expected, and in this 
 respect she followed the traditions set by the great 
 majority of persons in her unenviable position. 
 
 When the case came before the magistrate in 
 London on the morning following her arrest. Miss 
 Martin assumed a defiant attitude, and openly evinced 
 her contempt of the whole proceedings. 
 
 The charge against her was heard by the same 
 magistrate whose sternness had inspired Mrs. Jordan 
 with a dread of almost instant execution. He was 
 a suave, courteous, gentle-voiced individual generally; 
 but he had cold, blue, unsympathetic eyes and a' 
 clear, penetrating voice, wnicn generally sent a siuver 
 
 239 
 
HO A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 of dread through the suspects haled before him. 
 But he did not inspire Miss Hettie Martin with 
 any such feding. She had no sooner stepped into 
 the dock, and the charge against her was called 
 than she essayed to speak. There was an instant 
 and horrified shout of "Silence!" and every official 
 of the court looked at her with hyp.iotism in his 
 eyes. Bl. she was proof against command even 
 when mixed with a certain tone of entreaty 
 
 "I am not represented by counsel or solicitor" 
 said the undaunted prisoner. ' 
 
 "Do you wish for an adjournment to obtain legal 
 advice ? " asked the magistrate. 
 
 "No. I don't," said Miss Martin. "I don't want 
 an adjournment, because I want this stupid case 
 settled right away, and I don't want a solicitor, 
 becaus.. I can look after my affairs myself" 
 ^^ "Then you must keep quiet," said the magistrate, 
 and let the hearing of the case proceed." 
 " I am quite willing to be quiet," said Miss Martin • 
 "but i want the same fair play a solicitor could 
 demand for me." 
 " What do you want ? " 
 
 "I want all the other witnesses kept out of the 
 court while one is being heard, and I want them 
 to be prevented from having any communication 
 with each other." 
 
• m mnnM ' 
 
 jy '» jM | 
 
 MISS MARTIN PROTESTS 
 
 241 
 
 " I can see no reasons for such an application." said 
 tne magistrate. 
 
 ; But I can," said Miss Martin, "and I demand it 
 I know how the police manage these things. They 
 
 then all tTr T'^ '° "* °' ""= """--»- ««' 
 then all the fools swear to it." 
 
 "Your language is highly improper and imper- 
 tment sa.d the magistrate; "but, lest it might be 
 thought that every possible fair play was not shown 
 to you, I will grant your application " 
 
 the'^nT' "T"'" "' ''' '"''' "^^ ^•-"' -"d then 
 
 Martm had the same series of questions for each 
 witness, and the drift of her application was ap 
 parently her persistence in the formula^ 
 
 " You saw the man who was with me?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Was he well dressed ? " 
 " Fairly well, comfortable." 
 " Was he wearing an overcoat ? " 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Was it dark or light ? " 
 
 " It was brown." 
 
 That was the evidence of the cabman; but the 
 ofters that followed gave various repiies. One s W 
 he had no overcoat, another tl,at it was a black one • 
 son,e sa,d he wore a light suit, others that it "j 
 a darl< one; some even went so far as to swear 
 
242 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 he wore a high hat, while an equal number were as 
 strongly positive that it was a bowler. All, however, 
 were agreed th?t the man resembled the artist's 
 sketch of Mr. Pownceby-Smith. 
 
 Miss Martin vigorously demanded her immediate 
 discharge on the ground that nothing but conflicting 
 and utterly unreliable evidence was adduced against 
 her. She could clear herself at once, she declared, 
 if she chose to reveal her actions on the night in 
 question, and to drag in the names of friends ; but 
 she protested against an innocent person being 
 obliged to submit to such an inquisition when the 
 charge against har really called for no reply. On 
 principle she refused to be forced to prove her inno- 
 cence when it should never have been assailed. 
 
 The magistrate advised Miss Martin to reveal 
 such facts as could exculpate her if she wished to 
 escape from her present position. Perhaps it was 
 with the benevolent intention of giving het an oppor- 
 tunity of calm reflection that he decided to adjourn 
 the hearing to the following day. 
 
 At the second hearing Miss Martin was less con- 
 fident in demeanour, but she still persisted in 
 demanding her release on the score of the absence 
 of any direct evidence against her, and refused to 
 give any statement with regard to her movements 
 which would tend to prove her innocence. 
 
Miss martin protests 243 
 
 In the end the magistrate complimented the police 
 on the dihgence with which tliey had followed up 
 the clues they had unearthed ; and in committing 
 Miss Hettie Martin for trial on a charge of wilful 
 murder, he did it in such a manner that few persons 
 present had any doubt that his presumption of the 
 prisoner's guilt was unusually strong. 
 
 If Miss Hettie Martin were innocent she was an 
 exceedingly obstinate young woman, for she pre- 
 ferred the odium of suspicion, and the dangers 
 attendant on being charged with a heinous crime 
 to a staten;ent which would have cleared her' 
 Public opinion rarely takes a generous view of 
 a prisoner's character, and no champion arose to 
 put forward a generous view of Miss Martin's 
 obstinacy. 
 
 The suggestion that she was screening a friend or 
 that she shrank from dragging her relatives into 
 such a discussion found no supporters. It was, by 
 common consent, regarded as the height of 'im- 
 probability that anyone, and especially a woman 
 should undergo the rigours of any form of imprison-' 
 ment rather than reveal anything and everything 
 which would secure her release. The obvious 
 inference, therefore, was that her attitude was one 
 of bluff, and that she was guilty, if not of the actual 
 murder, guilty, at all events, of'inveigling the un- 
 
244 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 fortunate millionaire into the haunts and power of 
 those who actually murdered him. 
 
 The little press-the Sol, the Mercury, and the 
 Evening Herald -soon unearthed her biography, 
 so that if she had desired to seen her past from' 
 the public gaze, she had taken the most effectual 
 course of defeating her own ends. 
 
 She was declared by the Sol to be the daughter 
 of a Massachusetts farmer, and had left the shade of 
 the paternal roof-tree to become a member of a ballet- 
 corps in a New York theatre, ^/here the deceased 
 millionaire first made her acquaintance. The 
 Evening Herald, however, had the story of her life 
 from "one who knew her," and, according to this 
 account, she commenced her public career as an 
 attendant in a tea-house at the Chicago Exhibition. 
 There she attracted the attention of an Englishman 
 of wealth, and the incident led to proceedings in 
 the Divorce Court, whicu, however, were not pro- 
 ceeded with. The Merauy identified her as one 
 of the "show-girls" of a recent burlesque in town 
 which had a brief, inglorious run, beginning with 
 iclat and ending with the bailiff. 
 
 In not a single account was the career of the 
 suspected lady an enviable one, so that the attention 
 which had been attracted by the proceedings against 
 her did not tend to supply her with a good x-epu- 
 
MISS MARTIN PROTESTS 245 
 
 tation. In every instance the name of the deceased 
 millionaire lurked on the ver^^e of these accounts 
 m the character of an admiring patron, and Mrs 
 Pownceby-Smith read them with indignation, and 
 fretted over them in silence. 
 
 To Inspector Dennis, however, she made no 
 protest. 
 
 "Let them say what they like," said she, "so 
 long as they say everything. When we know all 
 we shall know the truth. Let us, therefore, know 
 all, however unpleasant it may be." 
 
 "I am glad, madam," said the inspector, "that 
 you take this sensible view of it. I fear that our 
 case must be built on a chain of evidence which 
 will prove a long intimacy between your late husband 
 and the prisoner." 
 
 "Very well," said Mrs. Pownceby-Smith, with 
 qu.et dignity; "her crime will be all the worse if 
 It be proved that she helped to murder him after 
 knowing him so long." 
 
 "It will doubtless cause you great pain " 
 
 "That is nothing, so long as his cruel death is 
 avenged." 
 
 A waiter entered as she spoke, and handed her 
 a card enclosed in an envelope. Mrs. Pownceby- 
 Smith withdrew it from its cover, and read the 
 name and a scribbled note, written in pencil on the 
 
246 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 back. She changed colour as she did so, and stared 
 at the card, nor did she recover herself until the 
 waiter addressed her: 
 
 "Will you see the gentleman, madam?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, at once." 
 
 The waiter left the room, and Mrs. Pownceby- 
 Smith turned hastily to the inspector, handing him 
 the card. 
 
 "•J. M. Strangeways, M.D., Charing Cross 
 Hospital. Have important news of your husband ' " 
 said she, repeating the name on the card and the 
 written message on the back. "What can it mean 
 Mr. Dennis?" ' 
 
 "I have no idea," replied the inspector; "but I 
 know Dr. Strangeways, and I have no doubt he 
 would not have written a message like that if he 
 had not something important to communicate." 
 
 A moment later the doctor, a breezy, florid little 
 man of forty, entered the room and nodded to the 
 inspector. Mrs. Pownceb^-Smith rose. 
 
 " Doctor Strangeways ? " 
 
 "Yes, madam." 
 
 "This is Inspector Dennis, of Scotland Yard; 
 may I ask if you have any objection to his being 
 present f " 
 
 "I have, madam, a strong objection, without any 
 offence to the inspector. When I have told you 
 
MISS MARTIN PROTESTS 
 
 247 
 
 my news you can please yourself what use you 
 make of it ; but that is a discretion I must reserve 
 to you." 
 
 "Please don't let me embarrass the doctor," said 
 the inspector, considerably chagrined. "He will 
 doubtless know, without my telling him, that it is 
 the duty of all good citizens . ) give every information 
 in their power to the officers of the law which may 
 aid them in bringing criminals to justice." 
 
 "My position in the matter is this," said the 
 doctor. " I have certain information which I am 
 about to impart to Mrs. Pownceby-Smith. When 
 she is in possession of it, she can do as she likes. 
 Anyway, it has nothing to do with any criminal 
 act. At present I have requested a few minutes' 
 private conversation." 
 
 The inspector saw that he was decidedly in the 
 way, so, with a bad grace, he withdrew. 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Pownceby-Smith," said the doctor 
 cheerily, "I'm going to express my disagreement 
 with a good deal you have been doing. I hope 
 you will allow me to do it, and I also hope you 
 will help me by speaking with perfect frankness, 
 because what passes between us is as private as it 
 will be confidential." 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby - Smith looked surprised, but 
 motioned her willingness to acquiesce. 
 

 '♦8 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 "Well, now," saw her visitor, "what induced you 
 ^Wsr °"'-'''" '"'''=' '^^''^''^''- 'he 
 " Dr. Strangeways I " 
 
 " There must be some reason for it. Why, the min 
 was no more your husband than I am " 
 ^^Mrs.^Pownceby-Smi.h, white and trembling, ros to 
 
 " I— I don't understand you I " 
 
 ■;r mean what I say," replied the doctor, with 
 
 TZrr""- "^"^ "°°' "^"^^ -^"o wai done 
 to death down some East End slum, and thrown into 
 
 and Tr" '"' ''"'• ""= "°' y°- h-band. 
 
 I want oT" " 't-^™ '"'°" *■ '''''■ '^'" -"at 
 I want to know ,s th,s. When you read the account 
 
 of the findmg of the body, why did you think it was 
 your husband?" 
 
 I h'al ma'd""''""'™- "'^'"■^<' - "■"'="■ The sketch 
 I had made was recognized by the bank officials and 
 the witnesses at the inquest." 
 
 •■ Yes, yes, I know ; but all that was an after-affair. 
 The newspaper description of the man never attracted 
 you. Now, be frank with me. What was it?" 
 
 ;;H,s being bound. The body was tied with ropes." 
 ^Jes; but tell me all. Why did that attract 
 
 " ''^'■''^P' y™ ""' «""k it stupid, but before I left 
 
MISS MARTIN PROTESTS 249 
 
 New York I consulted a Madame Harll, a crystal- 
 gazer " 
 
 " Hanged if I didn't think it was something of the 
 sort I Go on, please." 
 
 "She warned me not to trust to what she told me, 
 only to let it guide me n vny se. ch. She said she' 
 could see in the crystal th.ri my J.jsband was struck 
 down, and then afterwarc, that he lay helpless 
 bound with bands or ropes. She said it I heard 
 of an accident of such a description, to make inquiries 
 in that direction. The body in the Thames was that 
 of a man who had been struck down and bound 
 helpless. How could I doubt it when I afterwards 
 found such abundant evidence of identification and 
 also identified the body myself? Can I not trust my 
 own senses ? " 
 
 ♦• Certainly not, ma'am. Our senses are the source 
 of all the foolishness in the world. But that sugges- 
 tion of the crystal gazer is a curious coincidence, to 
 say the least, and these frauds so often score that one 
 is inclined sometimes to wonder if there is really 
 more than mere chance in their trickery. Your hus- 
 band was undoubtedly knocked down " 
 
 " You know ? " 
 
 "Yes, I know all about it. The curious thing is 
 that the crystal-gazer was so near the mark. He was 
 knocked down, and so injured that he was carried 
 
250 
 
 A PAUPER MILLIONAIRE 
 
 insensible to our hospital, and there, to keep him 
 from tumbling to pieces, he was swathed round and 
 round with surgical bandages " 
 
 "Like a mummy?" gasped Mrs. Pownceby-Smith, 
 recalling Madame Harli's expression. 
 
 " Something like it, certainly." 
 
 " But— but— is he— alive ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, and in a fair way to recovery now." 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith sat down and stared help- 
 lessly in front of her, like one dazed. 
 
 "You are quite sure you— you think he is my 
 husband ? " 
 
 " I know he is," said the doctor. "And now I just 
 want to give you a bit of advice how to act Your 
 husband knows nothing of all this hubbub there has 
 been about him, nothing of these inquests and 
 arrests, and the like. I have prescribed as a sedative 
 for him a few good whacking lies. The first is that 
 I cabled to you to' America to inform you where he 
 was ; the next that you came straight to the hospital, 
 and that ever since your arrival, while he was re- 
 lapsing, as he so frequently did, from delirium to 
 insensibility, you have been his constant nurse. The 
 strain of a first meeting would be too great for him, 
 so you must l-eep up the story, as any shock now 
 would have serious consequences." 
 Mrs. Pown. eby-Smith felt unable to express the 
 
my 
 
 MISS MARTIN PROTESTS 251 
 
 thoughts which revolved in her brain, but she seized 
 the doctor's hand and pressed it to her lips. Then 
 she turned away for a while to suppress the tears that 
 threatened to flow. 
 
 At length she turned round, and said : 
 
 " Can we go to him at once ? " 
 
 "Certainly; I have arranged for it." 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith and the doctor left the hotel 
 by a side door. Curiously enough, Inspector Dennis 
 was waiting in the main entrance. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 THE MILLIONAIRE'S TROUBLES ARE ENDED 
 
 'pHE doctor and Mrs. Po«.„ceby.Smith drove to 
 the hospital in a hansom. It was a short ride 
 and afforded little opportunity for a lengthy conver- 
 Tu ,*!-f°--''^^Sn,ith was eagef to know f 
 
 Tnt if , m' "'"™' "'" "' '''=^""'"°" "hich had 
 contnbuted so much to his misfortunes ; but the 
 doctor said the subject had not been mentioned 
 be ween them, and must be postponed until his 
 patient's strength had so far returned that there 
 would be no danger of a collapse. 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith was conducted into a private 
 room on a level with the ward in which her husband 
 had successfully fought the battle of life, as complete 
 
 par" in 1^". "'"^' '" "'" ^^"« '° P'ay a greater 
 par m the scheme of public affairs in his unhonoured 
 death than he had ever been called on to play during 
 the whole course of his probably wretched life. 
 
HIS TROUBLES ARE ENDED 253 
 
 On the night that the millionaire left the lobby of 
 the House of Commons dispirited and dejected he 
 had wandered on aimlessly, thoughtlessly. In his 
 absent-mindedness he had stepped off the kerb into 
 the middle of the roadway. There was a shout of 
 warning, but it came too late. The shaft of a hansom 
 struck him in the chest; he fell beneath the horse's 
 trampling feet, and was picked up apparently lifeless 
 and taken to Chari-g Cross Hospital. 
 
 "A terrible accident," was the comment of the 
 horrified onlookers, which proved a most providen- 
 tial solution to the difficulties of the unfortunate and 
 well-nigh heart-broken millionaire. 
 
 Not until he had reached the convalescent stage, 
 and was able to speak, did the hospital authorities' 
 suspect his identity. 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith had sat but a few minutes 
 in the room when she heard the faint rumble of 
 wheels in the corridor outside. The next moment 
 a basket-chair was wheeled into the room, nnd in it 
 was a man, pale, thin, emaciated— her husband. 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith had promised herself that 
 she would be calm and collected, but her resolution 
 entirely failed at the sight, and, falling on her knees 
 by the chair, she kissed the pale lips as she mur- 
 mured through her tears : 
 " My poor, poor dariing I " 
 
254 A PAUPER MILtlONAIRE 
 
 Mr. Pownceby-Smith was very weak, but the lovfn-. 
 sympathy of his wife brightened him up. He knew 
 that there wa. to be no longer a possibility of a 
 casual ward; no longer an anxious thought about 
 he next rneal ; no more insult, humiliation, and dis- 
 trust He knew that once more he had regained his 
 position before men ; that he was a millionaire. 
 • • ♦ . , , 
 
 And those two there, comforting each other after 
 the,r Ions night of trouble like any ordinary husband 
 and w.fe, have they lost much by their bitter ex- 
 perience, when it roused in them that sense of mutual 
 rehance which had become latent in prosperity? 
 And W.11 the millionaire be anj-the worse for having 
 teted the trials which are the lot of the poor? Will 
 he, m the future, be hasty to judge who has seen how 
 the truth can be misjudged I Will he be so hasty to 
 condemn, when he knows that the condemned may 
 be innocent? 
 
 * • * • * 
 
 Miss Hettie Martin was soon nftcrwards dis- 
 charged, and she made the h'ttle press pay heavily 
 for their comments on her character. In the libH 
 suits she instituted she was by no means retice-t 
 and then it transpired that she was an authoress' / 
 repute, who sought experience under the name of 
 
HIS TROUBLES ARE ENDED 255 
 
 Martin. The newspapers, on advice, compounded 
 witli her for a round sum which was the best pay- 
 ment she had ever yet received for an experience, or 
 had thought it likely she ever would receive. 
 
 Mrs. Pownceby-Smith made it her pleasurable duty 
 to find out all who had shown the least kindness to 
 her husband in his adversity. "Sal " had been sen- 
 tenced to six mor^hs' imprisonment on a charge of 
 drunkenness, and of having violently assaulted the 
 police. When she was released she found that some- 
 one had settled on her an income of two hundred 
 pounds a year for life, with a rent-free cottage at 
 Kingston nicely furnished. 
 
 Mrs. Jordan reached the summit of her ambition 
 by becoming the proprietress of a well-stocked shop 
 in the Westminster Bria^ , Road. 
 
 Everyone was remembered and rewarded, and it is 
 only the bare truth to say that from thus dispensing 
 these few marks of gratitude Mrs, Pownceby-Smith 
 derived more real pleasure than she would have ex- 
 perienced from her gorgeous water-gala had '>e been 
 able to carry it out as contemplated. 
 
 IHE END. 
 
 y\ 
 
 yijL I