CHINA MAIL
FRIDAY SUPPLEMENT, MARCH
MARCH 17, 1939
was at a loose end. One can't
help being at loose end on the day of discharge from penal servitude. Otherwise I should never have taken the job Arthur offored me,
But there I was in London for the first time in three years, with only the official gift of two pounds ten between me and starvation.
Soho seemed changed beyond re- cognition. It looked as though. I would have to spend my first night of liberty crawling from pub to pub seeking a familiar face.
Then, in the Bull and Bear, I saw Arthur. He was staring 'grimly över, his whisky at the bot- tles ranged at the back of the bar.
"Here, what ?" he began truculently when I touched his elbow. Arthur was always trucul- ent in his first reactions to people. He was afraid they might think he was afraid.".
"Oh, it's you, is it?" he said when he recognised me; then, curtly, "What're you having?"
In Arthur curtness did not ne- cessarily mean that he didn't want your company. I made it beer.
"Working?" he asked.
"I've just come out from lagging," I told him,
The
SPARTAN
“I want & barman at my club,” he said, looking at me suggestive- ly.
"But I've never been in a bar,”- I protested. Arthur way a notoriously difficulf man to work with.
"And haven't you got the guts to try?" he sneered.
That riled me, although I knew him so well "Give me the address, and I'll be round to-morrow morn- ing." I said,
Thus it came about. Now Arthur was as it were the dash of Angos- tura in the cocktail of Soho. His life was governed by one simple Spartan law; he despised cowar- dico intensely, and admired coura- ge in the same degree.
A dapper little man in appear- ance, his fear of being thought a“ coward made him very aggressive. But he would be content so long as you showed no weakness. A timid gesture, a humble, word—--- and you forfeited his respect.
Arthur was the proprietor of one of those little drinking clubs whose sole purpose is to frustrate the Defence of the Realm Act. But his club bore the impress of his character. “It was austerely furnished, and he would not tolerate any of the weaker sex on his premises.
"Keep the females out.” Arthur impressed on me as he showed me round the place and told me my duties, which embraced those of barman, doorman and secretary.
"I get you." I said suguciously, and started work,
con-
Knowing Arthur for so vinced a misogynist, you can pic2 ture my surprise when, a few
evenings later, I answered a ring at the door-bell to find a pretty, pathetic little woman inquiring for Arthur himself.
"Can I see my husband, please Arthur, my husband, you know.”
"Send her away!" Arthur roared when I told him. "Send" her away!"
I sent her away-not without difficulty, ́ ̄ ̄.She pleaded, so tear- ! fully that I was almost touched into letting her pass. When I returned to the clubroom Arthur was holding forth to a group of
Short Story
members.
house-agent's
an-
above the club had been arrested. The next day a board appeared outside, nouncing a' furnished flat to let. Three days later,-Arthur's wife moved in:
It was an audacious move on her part; it meant that she could waylay Arthur on the stairs, re- mind him perpetually of her exia- tence. Furious as he was, The could not suppress a grim tribute to her resourcefulness.
"She's got more guts than I credited her with," he commented. "But" he added "she won't get round me,"
་
Yet is became evident that his attitude to her was softening some- what. The woman importuned him on the stairs daily, and all his fury and swearing did not deter her.
By Mark Benney
Who Wrote "Low Company"
*“She's a curse, that woman! I "married her when I was too callow to know better, and regretted it over since. Sent her packing after a month, I did, and she's whined after me ever since:
I promised to keep the woman at bay, and went about my work. But I could not help wondering what act of feminine weakness had alienated Arthur for ever from his wife..
During the ensuing fortnight, the woman returned two or three times. She pleaded, she exhorted she clung to my lapels and wept. But I was beginning to like my job by now; and to let her see Arthur would do no good to her or me. So I was adamant.
Then, one day, I learned that the shoplifter who occupied the flat
It showed courage of a sort. Ar- thur began to realise.
་
Once when a member of the club made some facetious remark about his wife, Arthur turned on him fiercely and said, "You keep her out of it. She's a snivelling hussy, but she's " my wife!
for
So the situation remained some weeks, Then one night, after the club had closed and Arthur was busy with his account, the door bell rang loud and long. I opened the door to find a horde of roisterous race toughs throng- ing the landing and staircase, and clamouring for admission,
"The club's closed," I told them. "Wor
'wanna drink, they hiccup ped in chorus, and tried to push past me." Hearing the schemozzle, Arthur came out. He took one look at them and said venomously.
"Armed with a hastily snatched-up flower-vase
with gusto."
she laid about her
"Get out, you pups! There's a milk-bar round the corner.”
In a moment there was a first- class shindy in progress. Luckily there was no room for our op- ponents to take out their razors, but even so our position was not enviable. Arthur laid about him valiantly, and I did my best to sup- port him. But wo were soon in difficulties, and I was already on the floor being pummelled by a beefy young lout when-ai whirl- wind, descended upon us,
It was Arthur's wife, armed with a hastly snatched-up flower- vase. For thirty seconds she laid about her with such gusto that the race-toughs fled. Soon she stood victorious in the field, with a blood-stained fragment of vase still in her hand and her eyes, alight with the zest of battle. (Continued on Pago 7)
PLEASE, MOTHER-
I WANT POWDER THAT'S ANTISEPTIC
MENNEN
MORATED POWDER
Robards irritation, prickly
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