S. Weir Mitchell - "Mr. Kris Kringle"

Laura Lee Hope - "Bunny Brown and His Sister Sue at Christmas Tree Cove"

Tacitus - "The Germany and the Agricola of Tacitus"

William Wordsworth - "Lyrical Ballads, With Other Poems, 1800, Vol. I."

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

The Crimson Blind

F >> Fred M. White >> The Crimson Blind




"But he subsequently purchased the one returned to Lockhart's shop."

"That remark does not suggest your usual acumen. The American was
preparing the ground for Van Sneck to purchase with a view to a
subsequent exchange. You have not fully grasped the vileness of this
plot yet. I went to Lockhart's and succeeded in discovering that the
purchaser of the returned case was a tall American, quite of the
pattern I expected. Then I managed to get on to the trail at the
Metropole here. They recollected when I could describe the man; they
also recollected the largeness of his tips. Then I traced my man to the
Lion at Moreton Wells, where he had obviously gone to see Reginald
Henson. From the Lion our friend went to the Royal at Scarsdale Sands,
where he is staying at present."

"Under the name of John Smith?"

"I suppose so, seeing that all the inquiries under that name were
successful. If you would like me to come up and interview the man
for you--"

"I should like you to do nothing of the kind," Chris said. "You are more
useful in Brighton, and I am going to interview Mr. John Smith Rawlins
for myself. Good-bye. Just one moment. For the next few days my address
will be the Royal Hotel, Scarsdale Sands."

Chris countermanded the dog-cart she had ordered and repaired to the
library, where Littimer was tying some trout-flies behind a cloud of
cigarette smoke.

"Thought you had gone to Moreton Wells," he said. "Been at the telephone
again? A pretty nice bill I shall have to pay for all those long messages
of yours."

"Mr. Steel pays this time," Chris said, gaily. "He has just given me some
information that obviates the necessity of going into the town. My dear
uncle, you want a change. You look tired and languid--"

"Depression of spirits and a disinclination to exercise after food. Also
a morbid craving for seven to eight hours' sleep every night. What's the
little game?"

"Bracing air," Chris laughed. "Lord Littimer and his secretary, Miss Lee,
are going to spend a few days at Scarsdale Sands, Royal Hotel, to
recuperate after their literary labours."

"The air here being so poor and enervating," Littimer said, cynically.
"In other words, I suppose you have traced Rawlins to Scarsdale Sands?"

"How clever you are," said Chris, admiringly. "Walen's American and
Lockhart's American, with the modest pseudonym of John Smith, are what
Mrs. Malaprop would call three single gentlemen rolled into one. We are
going to make the acquaintance of John Smith Rawlins."

"Oh, indeed, and when do we start, may I ask?"

Chris responded coolly that she hoped to get away in the course of the
day. With a great show of virtuous resignation Lord Littimer consented.

"I have always been the jest of fortune," he said, plaintively; "but I
never expected to be dragged all over the place at my time of life by a
girl who is anxious to make me acquainted with the choicest blackguardism
in the kingdom. I leave my happy home, my cook, and my cellar, for at
least a week of hotel living. Well, one can only die once."

Chris bustled away to make the necessary arrangements. Some few hours
later Lord Littimer was looking out from his luxurious private
sitting-room with the assumption of being a martyr. He and Chris were
dressed for dinner; they were waiting for the bell to summon them to the
dining-room. When they got down at length they found quite a large number
of guests already seated at the many small tables.

"Your man here?" Littimer asked, languidly.

Chris indicated two people seated in a window opposite.

"There!" she whispered. "There he is. And what a pretty girl with him!"




CHAPTER XLIX

A CHEVALIER OF FORTUNE


Littimer put up his glass and gazed with apparent vacancy in the
direction of the window. He saw a tall man with a grey beard and hair; a
man most immaculately dressed and of distinctly distinguished appearance.
Littimer was fain to admit that he would have taken him for a gentleman
under any circumstances. In manner, style, and speech he left nothing to
be desired.

"That chap has a fortune in his face and accent," Littimer said. "'Pon my
word, he is a chance acquaintance that one would ask to dinner without
the slightest hesitation. And the girl--"

"Is his daughter," Chris said. "The likeness is very strong."

"It is," Littimer admitted. "A singularly pretty, refined girl, with
quite the grand air. It is an air that mere education seldom gives; but
it seems to have done so in yonder case. And how fond they seem to be of
one another! Depend upon it, Chris, whatever that man may be his daughter
knows nothing of it. And yet you tell me that the police--"

"Well, never mind the police, now. We can get Mr. Steel to tell Marley
all about 'John Smith' if we can't contrive to force his hand without.
But with that pretty girl before my eyes I shouldn't like to do anything
harsh. Up till now I have always pictured the typical educated scoundrel
as a man who was utterly devoid of feelings of any kind."

Dinner proceeded quietly enough, Chris having eyes for hardly anything
else beyond the couple in the window. She rose presently, with a little
gasp, and hastily lifted a tankard of iced water from the table. The girl
opposite her had turned pale and her dark head had drooped forward.

"I hope it is not serious," said Chris. "Drink a little of this;
it is iced."

"And they told me they had no ice in the house," the man Rawlins
muttered. "A little of this, Grace. It is one of her old fainting fits.
Ah, that is better."

The man Rawlins spoke with the tenderest solicitude. The look of positive
relief on his face as his daughter smiled at him told of a deep devotion
and affection for the girl. Chris, looking on, was wondering vaguely
whether or not she had made a mistake.

"Lord Littimer obtained our ice," she said. "Pray keep this. Oh, yes,
that is Lord Littimer over there. I am his secretary."

Littimer strolled across himself and murmured his condolences. A little
time later and the four of them were outside in the verandah taking ices
together. Rawlins might have been, and no doubt was, a finished
scoundrel, but there was no question as to his fascinating manner and his
brilliant qualities as a conversationalist. A man of nerve too, and full
of resources. All the same, Littimer was asking himself and wondering who
the man really was. By birth he must have been born a gentleman, Littimer
did not doubt for a moment.

But there was one soft spot in the man, and that was his love for his
daughter. For her sake he had been travelling all over the world for
years; for years he had despaired of seeing her live to womanhood. But
she was gradually growing better; indeed, if she had not walked so far
to-day nothing would have happened. All the time that Rawlins was talking
his eyes were resting tenderly on his daughter. The hard, steely look
seemed to have gone out of them altogether.

Altogether a charming and many-sided rascal, Littimer thought. He
was fond, as he called it, of collecting types of humanity, and here
was a new and fascinating specimen. The two men talked together till
long after dark, and Rawlins never betrayed himself. He might have
been an Ambassador or Cabinet Minister unbending after a long period
of heavy labour.

Meanwhile Chris had drawn Grace Rawlins apart from the others. The girl
was quiet and self-contained, but evidently a lady. She seemed to have
but few enthusiasms, but one of them was for her father. He was the most
wonderful man in the world, the most kind and considerate. He was very
rich; indeed, it was a good thing, or she would never have been able to
see so much of the world. He had given up nearly the whole of his life to
her, and now she was nearly as strong as other girls. Chris listened in a
dazed, confused kind of way. She had not expected anything like this; and
when had Rawlins found time for those brilliant predatory schemes that
she had heard of?

"Well, what do you think of them?" Littimer asked, when at length he and
Chris were alone. "I suppose it isn't possible that you and I have made
a mistake?"

"I'm afraid not," Chris said, half sadly. "But what a strange case
altogether."

"Passing strange. I'll go bail that that man is born and bred a
gentleman; and, what is more, he is no more of an American than I am. I
kept on forgetting from time to time what he was and taking him for one
of our own class. And, finally, I capped my folly by asking him to bring
his daughter for a drive to-morrow and a lunch on the Gapstone. What do
you think of that?"

"Splendid," Chris said, coolly. "Nothing could be better. You will be
good enough to exercise all your powers of fascination on Miss Rawlins
to-morrow, and leave her father to me. I thought of a little plan tonight
which I believe will succeed admirably. At first I expected to have to
carry matters with a high hand, but now I am going to get Mr. Rawlins
through his daughter. I shall know all I want to by to-morrow night."

Littimer smiled at this sanguine expectation.

"I sincerely hope you will," he said, drily. "But I doubt it very much
indeed. You have one of the cleverest men in Europe to deal with.
Good-night."

But Chris was in no way cast down. She had carefully planned out her
line of action, and the more she thought over it the more sure of
success she felt. A few hours more and--but she didn't care to dwell too
closely on that.

It was after luncheon that Chris's opportunity came. Lord Littimer and
Grace Rawlins had gone off to inspect something especially beautiful in
the way of a waterfall, leaving Chris and Rawlins alone. The latter was
talking brilliantly over his cigarette.

"Is Lord Littimer any relation of yours?" he asked.

"Well, yes," Chris admitted. "I hope he will be a nearer relation
before long."

"Oh, you mean to say--may I venture to congratulate--"

"It isn't quite that," Chris laughed, with a little rising in colour. "I
am not thinking of Lord Littimer, but of his son.... Yes, I see you raise
your eyebrows--probably you are aware of the story, as most people are.
And you are wondering why I am on such friendly terms with Lord Littimer
under the circumstances. And I am wondering why you should call yourself
John Smith."

The listener coolly flicked the ash from his cigarette. His face was
like a mask.

"John Smith is a good name," he said. "Can you suggest a better?"

"If you ask me to do so I can. I should call myself John Rawlins."

There was just the ghost of a smile on Rawlins's lips.

"There is a man of that name," he said, slowly, "who attained
considerable notoriety in the States. People said that he was the
_derniere cri_ of refined rascality. He was supposed to be without
feeling of any kind; his villainies were the theme of admiration amongst
financial magnates. There were brokers who piously thanked Providence
because Rawlins had never thought of going on the Stock Exchange, where
he could have robbed and plundered with impunity. And this Rawlins always
baffles the police. If he baffles them a little longer they won't be able
to touch him at all. At present, despite his outward show, he has hardly
a dollar to call his own. But he is on to a great _coup_ now, and,
strange to say, an honest one. Do you know the man, Miss Lee?"

Chris met the speaker's eyes firmly.

"I met him last night for the first time," she said.

"In that case you can hardly be said to know him," Rawlins murmured. "If
you drive him into a corner he will do desperate things. If you tried
that game on with him you would regret it for the rest of your life. Good
heavens, you are like a child playing about amidst a lot of unguarded
machinery. Why do you do it?"

"That I will tell you presently. Mr. Rawlins, you have a daughter."

The hard look died out of the listener's eyes.

"Whom I love better than my life," he said. "There are two John
Rawlins's--the one you know; and, well, the other one. I should be sorry
to show you the other one."

"For the sake of your daughter I don't want to see the other one."

"Then why do you pit yourself against me like this?"

"I don't think you are displaying your usual lucidity," Chris said,
coolly. Her heart was beating fast, but she did not show it. "Just
reflect for a moment. I have found you out. I know pretty well what you
are. I need not have told you anything of this. I need have done no more
than gone to the police and told them where to find you. But I don't want
to do that; I hate to do it after what I saw last night. You have your
child, and she loves you. Could I unmask you before her eyes?"

"You would kill her," Rawlins said, a little unsteadily; "and you would
kill me, I verily believe. That child is all the world to me. I committed
my first theft so that she could have the change the doctors declared to
be absolutely necessary. I intended to repay the money--the old, old
story. And I was found out by my employers and discharged. Thank
goodness, my wife was dead. Since then I have preyed on society.... But I
need not go into that sordid story. You are not going to betray me?"

"I said before that I should do nothing of the kind."

"Then why do you let me know that you have discovered my identity?"

"Because I want you to help me. I fancy you respect my sex, Mr. Rawlins?"

"Call me Smith, please. I have always respected your sex. All the
kindness and sympathy of my life have been for women. And I can lay my
hand on my heart and declare that I never yet wronged one of them in
thought or deed. The man who is cruel to women is no man."

"And yet your friend Reginald Henson is that sort."

Rawlins smiled again. He began to understand a little of what was passing
in Chris's mind.

"Would you mind going a little more into details?" he suggested. "So
Henson is that sort. Well, I didn't know, or he had never had my
assistance in his little scheme. Oh, of course, I have known him for
years as a scoundrel. So he oppresses women."

"He has done so for a long time: he is blighting my life and the life of
my sister and another. And it seems to me that I have that rascal under
my thumb at last. You cannot save him--you can do no more than place
obstacles in my way; but even those I should overcome. And you admit that
I am likely to be dangerous to you."

"You can kill my daughter. I am in your power to that extent."

"As if I should," Chris said. "It is only Reginald Henson whom I want to
strike. I want you to answer a few questions; to tell me why you went to
Walen's and induced them to procure a certain cigar-case for you, and why
you subsequently went to Lockhart's at Brighton and bought a precisely
similar one."

Rawlins looked in surprise at the speaker. A tinge of admiration was on
his face. There was a keenness and audacity after his own heart.

"Go on," he said, slowly. "Tell me everything openly and freely, and
when you have done so I will give you all the information that lies in
my power."




CHAPTER L

RAWLINS IS CANDID


"So Reginald Henson bullies women," Rawlins said, after a long pause.
There was a queer smile on his face; he appeared perfectly at his ease.
He did not look in the least like a desperate criminal whom Chris could
have driven out of the country by one word to the police. In his
perfectly-fitting grey suit he seemed more like a lord of ancient acres
than anything else. "It is not a nice thing to bully women."

"Reginald Henson finds it quite a congenial occupation," Chris
said, bitterly.

Rawlins pulled thoughtfully at his cigarette.

"I am to a certain extent in your power," he said. "You have discovered
my identity at a time when I could sacrifice thousands for it not to be
known that I am in England. How you have discovered me matters as little
as how a card-player gets the ace of trumps. And I understand that the
price of your silence is the betrayal of Henson?"

"That is about what it comes to," said Chris.

"In the parlance of the lower type of rascal, I am to 'round on my pal'?"

"If you like to put it in that way, Mr. Smith."

"I never did such a thing in my life before. And, at the same time, I
don't mind admitting that I was never so sorely tried. At the present
moment I am on the verge of a large fortune, and I am making my grand
_coup_ honestly. Would you deem it exaggeration on my part if I said that
I was exceedingly glad of the fact?"

"Mr. Smith," Chris said, earnestly, "I have seen how fond you are of your
daughter."

"That is an exceedingly clever remark of yours, young lady," Rawlins
smiled. "You know that you have found the soft spot in my nature, and you
are going to hammer on it till you reduce me to submission. I am not a
religious man, but my one prayer is that Grace shall never find me out.
When my _coup_ comes off I am going to settle in England and become
intensely respectable."

"With Reginald Henson for your secretary, I suppose?"

"No, I am going to drop the past. But to return to our subject. Are you
asking me to betray Henson to the police?"

"Nothing of the kind," Chris cried, hastily. "I--I would do anything to
avoid a family scandal. All I want is a controlling power over the man."

"The man who bullies women?"

"The same. For seven years he has wrecked the lives of five of us--three
women. He has parted husband and wife, he has driven the man I love into
exile. And the poor wife is gradually going hopelessly mad under his
cruelties. And he blackmails us, he extorts large sums of money from us.
If you only knew what we have suffered at the hands of the rascal!"

Rawlins nodded in sympathy.

"I did not imagine that," he said. "Of course, I have known for years
that Henson was pretty bad. You may smile, but I have never had any
sympathy with his methods and hypocritical ways, perhaps because I never
did anything of the kind myself. Nobody can say that I ever robbed
anybody who was poor or defenceless or foolish. By heavens, I am a more
honest man than hundreds of London and New York capitalists. It is the
hard rogues amongst us who have always been my mark. But to injure and
wound women and children!"

"Which means that you are going to help me?" Chris asked, quietly.

"As far as I can, certainly. Especially as you are going to let Henson
down easily. Now please ask me any questions that you like."

"This is very good of you," said Chris. "In the first place, did you ever
hear Mr. Henson speak of his relations or friends?"

"Nobody beyond Lord Littimer. You see, Henson and I were extremely useful
to one another once or twice, but he never trusted me, and I never
trusted him. I never cared for his methods."

"Did you go to Brighton lately on purpose to help him?"

"Certainly not. I had business in Brighton for some considerable time,
and my daughter was with me. When she went away to stay with friends for
a short time I moved to the Metropole."

"Then why did you go to Walen's in Brighton and ask them to show you some
gun-metal cigar-cases like the one in Lockhart's window?"

"Simply because Henson asked me to. He came to me just before I went to
the Metropole and told me he had a big thing on. He didn't give me the
least idea what it was, nor did I ask him. He suggested the idea of the
cigar-case, and said that I need not go near Walen's again, and I didn't.
I assure you I had no curiosity on the matter. In any case a little thing
like that couldn't hurt me. Some days later Henson came to me again, and
asked me to go to Lockhart's and purchase the cigar-case I had previously
seen. He wanted me to get the case so that I could not be traced. Again I
agreed. I was leaving the Metropole the next day, so the matter was easy.
I called and purchased the cigar-case on approval, I forwarded
dollar-notes in payment from the Metropole, and the next day I left."

"And you did all that without a single question?"

"I did. It was only a little consideration for an old confederate."

"And suppose that confederate had played you false?"

Two tiny points of flame danced in Rawlins's eyes.

"Henson would never have dared," he said. "My mind was quite easy on
that score."

"I understand," Chris murmured. "And you kept the cigar-case?"

"Yes, I rather liked it. And I could afford a luxury of that kind
just then."

"Then why did you dispose of it to Rutter's in Moreton Wells? And why
Moreton Wells?"

Rawlins laughed as he lighted a fresh cigarette.

"I came to Moreton Wells knowing that Henson was at Littimer Castle," he
explained. "I went there to borrow L200 from Henson. Unfortunately I
found him in great need of money. Somebody who had promised him a large
sum of money had disappointed him."

Chris smiled. She had heard all about Lady Littimer's adventure with the
ring, and her stubborn refusal to give Henson any further supplies.

"Presently I can tell you who disappointed Henson," she said. "But fancy
you being short of--"

"Of ready money; I frequently am. One of your great millionaires told me
lately that he was frequently hard up for a thousand pounds cash. I have
frequently been hard up for five pounds. Hence the fact that I sold the
cigar-case at Moreton Wells."

"Well, the ground is clear so far," said Chris. "Do you know Van Sneck?"

"I know Van Sneck very well," Rawlins said, without hesitation. "A
wonderfully clever man."

"And a great scoundrel, I presume?"

"Well, on the whole, I should say not. Weak, rather than wicked. Van
Sneck has been a tool and creature of Henson's for years. If he could
only keep away from the drink he might make a fortune. But what has Van
Sneck got to do with it?"

"A great deal," Chris said, drily. "And now, please, follow carefully
what I am going to say. A little time ago we poor, persecuted women put
our heads together to get free from Reginald Henson. We agreed to ask Mr.
David Steel, the well-known novelist, to show us a way of escape.
Unhappily for us, Henson got to know of it."

Rawlins was really interested at last.

"Pardon me," he said, eagerly, "if I ask a question or two before you
proceed. Is Mr. David Steel the gentleman who found a man half murdered
in his house in Brighton?"

"The same. But don't you know who the injured man was?"

"You don't mean to say it was Van Sneck?" Rawlins cried.

Chris nodded gravely. Rawlins looked like a man who was groping about in
a sudden dazzle of blinding light.

"I begin to understand," he muttered. "The scoundrel!"

"After that I will resume," Chris said. "You must understand that Mr.
Steel was a stranger to us. We hit upon the idea of interviewing him
anonymously, so to speak, and we were going to give him a gun-metal
cigar-case mounted in diamonds. A friend of mine purchased that
cigar-case at Lockhart's. Mind you, Reginald Henson knew all about this.
The same day Henson's tool, Van Sneck, purchased a similar case from
Walen's--a case really procured for your approval--and later on in the
day the case passed from Van Sneck to Henson, who dexterously changed
the cases."

"Complex," Rawlins muttered. "But I begin to see what is coming."

"The cases were changed, and the one from Walen's in due course became
Mr. Steel's. Now note where Henson's diabolical cunning comes in. The
same night Van Sneck is found half murdered in Mr. Steel's house, and in
his pocket is the receipt for the very cigar-case that Mr. Steel claimed
as his own property."

"Very awkward for Steel," Rawlins said, thoughtfully.

"Of course it was. And why was it done? So that we should be forced to
come forward and exonerate Mr. Steel from blame. We should have had to
tell the whole story, and then Henson would have learnt what steps we
were taking to get rid of him."

Rawlins was quiet for some time. Admiration for the scheme was uppermost
in his mind, but there was another thought that caused him to glance
curiously at Chris.

"And that is all you know?" he asked.

"Not quite," Chris replied. "I know that on the day of the attempted
murder Van Sneck quarrelled with Reginald Henson, who he said had treated
him badly. Van Sneck had in some way found out that Reginald Henson meant
mischief to Mr. Steel. Also he couldn't get the money he wanted. Probably
he had purchased that cigar-case at Walen's, and Henson could not repay
him for the purchase of it. Then he went off and wrote to Mr. Steel,
asking the latter to see him, as he had threatened Henson he would do."

"Ah!" Rawlins exclaimed, suddenly. "Are you sure of this?"

"Certain. I heard it from a man who was with Van Sneck at the time, a man
called Merritt."

"James Merritt. Really, you have been in choice company, Miss Lee. Your
knowledge of the criminal classes is getting extensive and peculiar."

"Merritt told me this. And an answer came back."

"An answer from Mr. Steel?"

"Purporting to be an answer from Mr. Steel. A very clever forgery, as a
matter of fact. Of course that forgery was Henson's work, because we know
that Henson coolly ordered notepaper in Mr. Steel's name. He forgot to
pay the bill, and that is how the thing came out. Besides, the little wad
of papers on which the forgery was written is in Mr. Steel's hands. Now,
what do you make of that?"

Rawlins turned the matter over thoughtfully in his mind.

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