THE CHINA MAIL FRIDAY SUPPLEMENT, JUNE 4, 1937
A LESSON IN
OSEPH NEWTON
settled
himself comfortably in his compart- corner of a first-class ment on the Cornish Riviera ex- the com- press. So far, he had partment to himself; and if, by strewing rugs, bags books and papers about he could make hi
self look
numerous enough to drive fellow-travellers away, there was hope he might remain undisturbed-for the long train was far from full. Let us take a look at him, and learn a little about him before his adventures begin and end.
а
Age? Forty-five would not be a bad guess, though, in fact, he is rather less. As for his physical condition, "well-nourished" is
who polite description; and we, desire to have no illusions,
can safely call him paunchy, and, without positive grossness, flabby with good living. His face is puffy, and whitish under the eyes; his mouth is loose, and inclined to leer.
His fair hair, which is rapid- ly growing thin, is immaculately brushed, and his clothes are ad- mirably cut and well-tended, though he has not the art of wearing them well. Altogether he looks a prosperous, thorough- ly self-satisfied, and somewhat self-indulgent member of the British middle class; and what is precisely what he is.
His walk in life? You would put him down as a business man, possibly a merchant or a middle- sized employer, not a professional There you would be both right and wrong. He is a profes- sional man, in a sense; and he is certainly in business.
man:
+
In fact, he is Joseph Newton, the best-seller, whose crime stor- ies and shockers were plastered all over the bookstall he has just left with his burden of
newspapers
under his arm. He has sold heaven knows how many million copies of his stories, and his ser- ial rights, first, second, and third, cost fabulous sums to secure.
But why describe him further? All the world knows him.
And now he is on his way to Cornwall, where he has a pleasant little seaside cottage with twenty- seven bedrooms.
The train starts, and Newton's carriage still remains empty save for himself. He heaves a fat sigh of relief and picks up a magazine, in which he turns instinctively to a story by himself. For the moment he cannot remember who wrote it. Poor stuff, he thinks. He must find out which "ghost" was responsible, and sack him.
Joseph Newton was interrupt- ed in his reflections at this point by the consciousness that someone was looking at him. He glanced up and saw the figure of a man who was standing in the corridor and staring fixedly at him, with a curious air of abstraction. New- ton stared back, trying to look as unwelcoming as possible. It would be really bad luck, he felt, if someone were to invade his com- partment now.
The newcomer, after a moment more of staring, pushed back the door and came in, flinging down on top of one of Newton's bags a rug and a pillow done up in a strap. He seemed to have no other luggage. Newton unwillingly got up. and cleared a corner of his
belongings; and the stranger sat down and began to unbuckle his strap. Then settled himself com- fortably with the pillow behind his head, and closed his eyes, “I hope to
doesn't goodness he snore," Newton thought.
CRIME
it
they were. A professional voice, with a touch of Scots accent.
"Talking of murderers," said, "you have really no right to be so careless."
-
"Eh?" said Newton, so startled that his magazine dropped from his is
hand to the floor. "Eh, what's that?"
"I said you had no right to be. so careless," repeated the other.
Newton retrieved his magazine, and looked his fellow-traveller contemptuously
and up
While our second traveller thus peacefully settling himself for a doze, we may as well take a good look at him also; for it may be important to know him later on. He is a scraggy little man, probably of sixty or more, with a completely bald pink head and
a straggling grey beard which emerges from an incredibly folded and puckered yellow chin. His height is hardly more than five foot six, and his proportions are puny; but there is a wiriness about his spare person that con- trasts
with Newton's strongly fleshy bulk.
He is dressed, not so much ill as with a carelessness amounting to eccentricity. His clothes cer- tainly cut by a good tailor, hang His pockets in bags all over him. bulge. His waistcoat is buttoned up wrong, and sets awry, and his shirt has come apart at the neck, so that a disconsolate shirt-stud is hanging out on one side, while his red tie is leaning towards the other. Moreover, the sole of one of his boots has come loose, and flaps helplessly as his crossed leg swings slowly to the rhythm of the train.
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Yet, despite these appearances, the
certainly newcomeris gentleman, and one is inclined to deem him eccentric rather than He might be an exception- poor. ally absent-minded professor; though, as a matter of fact, he is not. But who he is Joseph Newton has no idea.
For some time there was silence. in the compartment,
5 as the -Cornish Riviera sped westward past the long, spreading ribbon of London Newton's fellow-travel- ler did not snore. His eyes were closed whenever Newton glanced at him; and yet between whiles the novelist had still a queer feeling of being stared at. He told himself it was nonsense, and tried to bury himself in a Wild West story; but the sensation re- mained with him. Suddenly, as the train passed Maidenhead Station, his companion spoke, in a quiet positive voice, as of one used to telling idiots what idiots
•
down. "I am not aware," he said, "that we were talking of murderers, or of anything else, for that mat- ter."
""There, you see," -said the other, "you did hear what I said the first time. What I mean to say is that, if you expect intelli- gent people to read your stories,
trouble you might at least
to make them plausible"
Newton suppressed the rejoin- der that rose instantly to his lips. It was that he had far too large а circulation among fools to bother about what intelligent people thought. He only said, "I doubt, sir, if you are likely to
Short Story
find my conversation any more... satisfactory than my books," and resumed his magazine.
said "Probably.^not,”
the stranger. "I expect success has spoiled you... But you had some Those brains to begin with.. Indian stories of yours
Perhaps no other phrase would have induced Joseph Newton to embark upon a conversation with the stranger. But nobody “now- adays ever read or bothered about his Indian stories, though he was very well aware that they were the best things he had ever done.
"had glimmerings of quality, the other was saying, "and you might have accomplished some-. thing had you not taken to writ- ing for money.”
“Are you aware, sir," Newton said, "that you are being exces sively rude?" "
“Quite,” said the other with calm satisfaction. "I always am. It is so good for people:And really, in your last book, you have exceeded the limit."
curls!
{
"Which of my last books are you talking about," asked "New- ton, hovering between annoyance and amusement.
in
“It is called The Big Noise," said the other, sighing softly. "Oh, that," said Newton. "Now,
that book," stranger went on, "you call the heroine Elinor and Gertrude on different
cannot pages. You make up your mind whether her name was Robbins with two b's or with one. You have killed the and corpse in one place on Sunday in another on Monday evening. That corpse was discovered twelve hours after the murder wet
still wallowing in a Pommitted
blood. The
coroner
no fewer than seventeen irregu- larities in conducting the inquest; and, finally, you have introduced three gangs, a mysterious China- man, an unknown poison that leaves no trace, and a secret so- ciety of international Jews high- up in the political world.”
The little old man held up his hands in horror as he ended the grisly recital.
"Well,"
Newton asked, "any
By G. D. H. and M. COLE
more,
"Alas, yes," said the other. "The volume includes, besides many misprints, fifteen
inconsistencies,
glaring
nine cases of gross ignorance, and enough
mistakes grammatical
to-to stretch from Paddington to Pen- zance."
This time Newton laughed out- right. "You seem to be a very earnest student of my writings,” he said.
The stranger picked up the rug from his knees and folded it neatly beside him. He removed the pillow, and laid that down, too. He then moved across to the corner seat opposite New- ton and, taking a jewelled cigar- ette case from his pocket, ⠀⠀ se- lected a cigarette, returned the case to his pocket, found a match, lighted up, and began to smoke.
Then he again drew out the case and offered it to Newton.
Newton took the proffered cigarette, and the stranger ob- ligingly gave him a light, New- (Continued on Page 7)
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