Maria Edgeworth - "The Parent's Assistant"

Immanuel Kant - "The Metaphysical Elements of Ethics"

George Meredith - "A Reading of Life, and Other Poems"

Algernon Charles Swinburne - "Locrine A Tragedy"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: Madame Midas

F >> Fergus Hume >> Madame Midas




'I don't want any supper,' said Meddlechip, sullenly, his face
having regained its normal colour. 'Possibly not, but I do,' replied
Vandeloup, sweetly, taking his arm; 'come, let us go.'

Meddlechip did not resist, but walked passively out of the bar with
Vandeloup, much to the astonishment of the thin gentleman, who
called out to him but without getting any answer.

Meddlechip went to the cloak room and put on his coat and hat. Then
he followed Vandeloup down the stairs and paused at the door while
the Frenchman hailed a hansom. When it drove up, however, he stopped
short at the edge of the pavement.

'I won't go,' he said, determinedly.

Vandeloup looked at him with a peculiar gleam in his dark eyes, and
bowed.

'Let me persuade you, Monsieur,' he said, blandly, holding the door
of the cab open.

Meddlechip glanced at him, and then, with a sigh of resignation,
entered the cab, followed by Vandeloup.

'Where to, sir?' asked the cabman, through the trap.

'To Leslie's Supper Rooms,' replied the Frenchman, and the cab drove
off.




CHAPTER IV

THE CASE OF ADELE BLONDET


Leslie's Supper Rooms in Bourke Street East were very well known--
that is, among a certain class. Religious people and steady
businessmen knew nothing about such a place except by reputation,
and looked upon it, with horror, as a haunt of vice and dissipation.

Though Leslie's, in common with other places had to close at a
certain hour, yet when the shutters were up, the door closed, and
the lights extinguished in the front of the house, there was plenty
of life and bustle going on at the back, where there were charmingly
furnished little rooms for supper parties. Barty Jarper had engaged
one of these apartments, and with about a dozen young men was having
a good time of it when Vandeloup and Meddlechip drove up. After
dismissing the cab and looking up and down the street to see that no
policeman was in sight, Vandeloup knocked at the door in a peculiar
manner, and it was immediately opened in a stealthy kind of way.
Gaston gave his name, whereupon they were allowed to enter, and the
door was closed after them in the same quiet manner, all of which
was very distasteful to Mr Meddlechip, who, being a public man and a
prominent citizen, felt that he was breaking the laws he had
assisted to make. He looked round in some disgust at the crowds of
waiters, and at the glimpses he caught every now and then of
gentlemen in evening dress, and what annoyed him more than anything
else--ladies in bright array. Oh! a dissipated place was Leslie's,
and even in the daytime had a rakish-looking appearance as if it had
been up all night and knew a thing or two. Mr Meddlechip would have
retreated from this den of iniquity if he could, but as he wanted to
have a thorough explanation with Vandeloup, he meekly followed the
Frenchman through a well-lighted passage, with statues on either
side holding lamps, to a little room beautifully furnished, wherein
a supper table was laid out. Here the waiter who conducted them took
their hats and Meddlechip's coat and hung them up, then waited
respectfully for M. Vandeloup to give his orders. A portly looking
waiter he was, with a white waistcoat, a white shirt, which bulged
out in a most obtrusive manner, and a large white cravat, which was
tied round an equally large white collar. When he walked he rolled
along like a white-crested wave, and with his napkin under his arm,
the heel of one foot in the hollow of the other, and his large red
face, surmounted by a few straggling tufts of black hair, he was
truly wonderful to behold.

This magnificent creature, who answered to the name of Gurchy,
received Vandeloup's orders with a majestic bend of his head, then
rolling up to Mr Meddlechip, he presented the bill of fare to that
gentleman, who, however, refused it.

'I don't want any supper,' he said, curtly.

Gurchy, though a waiter, was human, and looked astonished, while
Vandeloup remonstrated in a suave manner.

'But, my dear sir,' he said, leaning back in his chair, 'you must
have something to eat. I assure you,' with a significant smile, 'you
will need it.'

Meddlechip's lips twitched a little as the Frenchman spoke, then,
with an uneasy laugh, he ordered something, and drew his chair up to
the table.

'And, waiter,' said Vandeloup, softly, as Gurchy was rolling out of
the door, 'bring some wine, will you? Pommery, I think, is best,' he
added, turning to Meddlechip.

'What you like,' returned that gentleman, impatiently, 'I don't
care.'

'That's a great mistake,' replied Gaston, coolly; 'bad wine plays
the deuce with one's digestion--two bottles of Pommery, waiter.'

Gurchy nodded, that is to say his head disappeared for a moment in
the foam of his collar, then re-appeared again as he slowly rolled
out of the door and vanished.

'Now, then, sir,' said Meddlechip, sharply, rising from his seat and
closing the door, 'what did you bring me here for?'

M. Vandeloup raised his eyebrows in surprise.

'How energetic you are, my dear Kestrike,' he said, smoothly, lying
down on the sofa, and contemplating his shoes with great
satisfaction; 'just the same noisy, jolly fellow as of yore.'

'Damn you!' said the other, fiercely, at which Gaston laughed.

'You had better leave that to God,' he answered, mockingly; 'he
understands more about it than you do.'

'Oh, I know you of old,' said Meddlechip, walking up and down
excitedly; 'I know you of old, with your sneers and your coolness,
but it won't do here,' stopping opposite the sofa, and glaring down
at Vandeloup; 'it won't do here!'

'So you've said twice,' replied M. Vandeloup, with a yawn. 'How do
you want me to conduct myself? Do tell me; I am always open to
improvement.'

'You must leave Australia,' said Meddlechip, sharply, and breathing
hard.

'If I refuse?' asked M. Vandeloup, lazily, smiling to himself.

'I will denounce you as a convict escaped from New Caledonia!'
hissed the other, putting his hands in his pockets, and bending
forward.

'Indeed,' said Gaston, with a charming smile, 'I don't think you
will go so far as that, my friend.'

'I swear,' said Meddlechip, loudly, raising his hand, 'I swear--'

'Oh, fie!' observed M. Vandeloup, in a shocked tone; 'an old man
like you should not swear; it's very wrong, I assure you; besides,'
with a disparaging glance, 'you are not suited to melodrama.'

Meddlechip evidently saw it was no good trying to fight against the
consummate coolness of this young man, so with a great effort
resolved to adapt himself to the exigencies of the case, and fight
his adversary with his own weapons.

'Well,' he said at length, resuming his seat at the table, and
trying to speak calmly, though his flushed face and quivering lips
showed what an effort it cost him; 'let us have supper first, and we
can talk afterwards.'

'Ah, that's much better,' remarked M. Vandeloup, sitting up to the
table, and unrolling his napkin. 'I assure you, my dear fellow, if
you treat me well, I'm a very easy person to deal with.'

The eyes of the two men met for a moment across the table, and
Vandeloup's had such a meaning look in them, that Meddlechip dropped
his own with a shiver.

The door opened, and the billowy waiter rolled up to the table, and
having left a deposit of plates and food thereon, subsided once more
out of the door, then rolled in again with the champagne. He drew
the cork of one of the bottles, filled the glasses on the table, and
then after giving a glance round to see that all was in order,
suddenly found that it was ebb-tide, and rolled slowly out of the
door, which he closed after him.

Meddlechip ate his supper in silence, but drank a good deal of
champagne to keep his courage up for the coming ordeal, which he
knew he must go through. Vandeloup, on the other hand, ate and drank
very little, as he talked gaily all the time about theatres, racing,
boating, in fact of everything except the thing the other man wanted
to hear.

'I never mix up business with pleasure, my dear fellow,' said
Gaston, amiably, guessing his companion's thoughts; 'when we have
finished supper and are enjoying our cigars, I will tell you a
little story.'

'I don't want to hear it,' retorted the other, harshly, having an
intuitive idea what the story would be about.

'Possibly not,' replied M. Vandeloup, smoothly; 'nevertheless it is
my wish that you should hear it.'

Meddlechip looked as if he were inclined to resent this plain
speaking, but after a pause evidently thought better of it, and went
on tranquilly eating his supper.

When they had finished Gaston rang the bell, and when the billow
rolled in, ordered a fresh bottle of wine and some choice cigars of
a brand well known at Leslie's. Gurchy's head disappeared in foam
again, and did not emerge therefrom till he was out of the door.

Try one of these,' said M. Vandeloup, affably, to Meddlechip, when
the billow had rolled in with the cigars and wine, 'it's an
excellent brand.'

'I don't care about smoking,' answered Meddlechip.

'To please me,' urged M. Vandeloup, persuasively; whereupon
Meddlechip took one, and having lighted it puffed away evidently
under protest, while the billow opened the new bottle of wine,
freshened up the glasses, and then rolled majestically out of the
door, like a tidal wave.

'Now then for the story,' said M. Vandeloup, leaning back
luxuriously on the sofa, and blowing a cloud of smoke.

'I don't want to hear it,' retorted the other, quickly; 'name your
terms and let us end the matter.'

'Pardon me,' said M. Vandeloup, with a smile, 'but I refuse to
accept any terms till I have given you thoroughly to understand what
I mean; so you must hear this little tale of Adele Blondet.'

'For God's sake, no!' cried the other, hoarsely, rising to his feet;
'I tell you I am haunted by it; by day and by night, sleeping or
waking, I see her face ever before me like an accusing angel.'

'Curious,' murmured M. Vandeloup, 'especially as she was not by any
means an angel.'

'I thought it was done with,' said Meddlechip, twisting his fingers
together, while the large drops of perspiration stood on his
forehead, 'but here you come like a spectre from the past and revive
all the old horrors.'

'If you call Adele a horror,' retorted Vandeloup, coolly, 'I am
certainly going to revive her, so you had best sit down and hear me
to the end, for you certainly will not turn me from my purpose.'

Meddlechip sank back into his chair with a groan, while his
relentless enemy curled himself up on the sofa in a more comfortable
position and began to talk.

'We will begin the story,' said M. Vandeloup, in a conversational
tone, with an airy wave of his delicate white hand, 'in the good
old-fashioned style of our fairy tales. Once upon a time--let us say
three years ago--there lived in Paris a young man called Octave
Braulard, who was well born and comfortably off. He had a fancy to
be a doctor, and was studying for the medical profession when he
became entangled with a woman. Mademoiselle Adele Blondet was a
charmingly ugly actress, who was at that time the rage of Paris. She
attracted all the men, not by her looks, but by her tongue. Octave
Braulard,' went on M. Vandeloup, complacently looking at himself,
'was handsome, and she fell in love with him. She became his
mistress, and caused a nine days' wonder in Paris by remaining
constant to him for six months. Then there came to Paris an English
gentleman from Australia--name, Kestrike; position, independent;
income, enormous. He had left Madame his wife in London, and came to
our wicked Paris to amuse himself. He saw Adele Blondet, and was
introduced to her by Braulard; result, Kestrike betrayed his friend
Braulard by stealing from him his mistress. Why was this? Was
Kestrike handsome? No. Was he fascinating? No. Was he rich? Yes.
Therein lay the secret; Adele loved the purse, not the man.
Braulard,' said Gaston, rising from the sofa quickly and walking
across the room, 'felt his honour wounded. He remonstrated with
Adele, no use; he offered to fight a duel with the perfidious
Kestrike, no use; the thief was a coward.'

'No,' cried Meddlechip, rising, 'no coward.'

'I say, yes!' said Vandeloup, crossing to him, and forcing him back
in his chair; 'he betrayed his friend and refused to give him the
satisfaction of a gentleman. What did Braulard do? Rest quiet? No.
Revenge his honour? Yes! One night,' pursued Gaston, in a low
concentrated voice, grasping Meddlechip's wrist firmly, and looking
at him with fiery eyes, 'Braulard prepared a poison, a narcotic
which was quick in its action, fatal in its results. He goes to the
house of Adele Blondet at half-past twelve o'clock--the hour now,'
he said, rapidly swinging round and pointing to the clock on the
mantelpiece, which had just struck the half-hour; 'he found them at
supper,' releasing Meddlechip's wrist and crossing to the sofa; 'he
sat opposite Kestrike, as he does now,' leaning forward and glaring
at Meddlechip, who shrank back in his chair. 'Adele, at the head of
the table, laughs and smiles; she looks at her old lover and sees
murder in his face; she is ill and retires to her room. Kestrike
follows her to see what is the matter. Braulard is left alone; he
produces a bottle and pours its contents into a cup of coffee,
waiting for Adele. Kestrike returns, saying Adele is ill; she wants
a drink. He takes her the poisoned cup of coffee; she drinks it and
falls'--with a long breath--'asleep. Kestrike returns to the room,
asks Braulard to leave the house. Braulard refuses. Kestrike is
afraid, and would leave himself; he rises from the table; so does
Braulard;'--here Gaston rose and crossed to Meddlechip, who was also
on his feet--'he goes to Kestrike, seizes his wrist, thus--drags him
to the bedroom, and there on the bed lies Adele Blonde--dead--killed
by the poison of one lover given her by the other--and the murderers
look at one another--thus.'

Meddlechip wrenched his hand from Vandeloup's iron grip and fell
back ghastly white in his chair, with a strangled cry, while the
Frenchman stood over him with eyes gleaming with hatred.

'Kestrike,' pursued Vandeloup, rapidly, 'is little known in Paris--
his name is an assumed one--he leaves France before the police can
discover how he has poisoned Adele Blondet, and crosses to England--
meets Madame, his wife, and returns to Australia, where he is
called--Meddlechip.'

The man in the chair threw up his hands as if to keep the other off,
and uttered a stifled cry.

'He then goes to China,' went on Gaston, bending nearer to the
shrinking figure, 'and returns after twelve months, where he meets
Octave Braulard in the theatre--yes, the two murderers meet in
Melbourne! How came Braulard here? Was it chance? No. Was it design?
No. Was it Fate? Yes.'

He hissed the words in Meddlechip's ear, and the wretched man shrank
away from him again.

'Braulard,' pursued Vandeloup, in a calmer tone, 'also left the
house of Adele Blondet. She is found dead; one of her lovers cannot
be found; the other, Braulard, is accused of the crime; he defies
the police to prove it; she has been poisoned. Bah! there is no
trace. Braulard will be free. Stop! who is this man called Prevol,
who appears? He is a fellow student of Braulard's, and knows the
poison. Braulard is lost! Prevol examines the body, proves that
poison has been given--by whom? Braulard, and none other. He is
sentenced to death; but he is so handsome that Paris urges pardon.
No; it is not according to the law. Still, spare his life? Yes. His
life is spared. The galleys at Toulon? No. New Caledonia? Yes. He is
sent there. But is Braulard a coward? No. Does he rest as a convict?
No. He makes friends with another convict; they steal a boat, and
fly from the island; they drift, and drift, for days and days; the
sun rises, the sun sets--still they drift; their food is giving out,
the water in the barrel is low--God! are they to die of thirst and
famine? No. The sky is red--like blood--the sun is sinking; land is
in the distance--they are saved!' falling on his knees; 'they are
saved, thank God!'

Meddlechip, who had recovered himself, wiped his face with his
handkerchief, and sneered with his white lips at the theatrical way
Gaston was behaving in. Vandeloup saw this, and, springing to his
feet, crossed to the millionaire.

'Braulard,' he continued, quickly, 'lands on the coast of
Queensland; he comes to Sydney--no work; to Melbourne--no work; he
goes to Ball'rat--work there at a gold-mine. Braulard takes the name
of Vandeloup and makes money; he comes to Melbourne, lives there a
year, he is in want of money, he is in despair; at the theatre he
overhears a plan which will give him money, but he needs capital--
despair again, he will never get it. Aha! Fate once more intervenes-
-he sees M. Kestrike, now Meddlechip, he will ask him for the money,
and the question is, will he get it? So the story is at an end.' He
ended with his usual smile, all his excitement having passed away,
and lounging over to the supper-table lit a cigarette and sat down
on the sofa.

Meddlechip sat silently looking at the disordered supper-table and
thinking deeply. The dishes were scattered about the white cloth,
and some vividly red cherries had fallen down from the fruit dish in
the centre, some salt was spilt near his elbow, the napkins, twisted
into thin wisps, were lying among the dirty dishes, and the
champagne glasses, half filled with the straw-coloured wine, were
standing near the empty bottles. Meddlechip thought for a few
moments, and then looked up suddenly in a cool, collected, business-
like manner.

'As I understand you,' he said, in a steady voice, 'the case stands
thus: you know a portion, or rather, I should say, an episode of my
life, I would gladly forget. I did not commit the murder.'

'No, but you gave her the poison.'

'Innocently I did, I confess.'

'Bah! who will believe that?' retorted M. Vandeloup, with a shrug;
'but never mind this at present; let me hear what you intend to do.'

'You know a secret,' said Meddlechip, nervously, 'which is dangerous
to me; you want to sell it; well, I will be the buyer--name your
price.'

'Five hundred pounds,' said Vandeloup, quietly.

'Is that all?' asked the other, with a start of surprise; 'I was
prepared for five thousand.'

'I am not exorbitant in my demands,' answered Vandeloup, smoothly;
'and as I told you, I have a scheme on hand by which I may make a
lot of money-five hundred pounds is sufficient to do what I want. If
the scheme succeeds, I will be rich enough to do without any more
money from you.'

'Yes; but if it fails?' said Meddlechip, doubtfully.

'If it fails, I will be obliged to draw on you again,' returned
Gaston, candidly; 'you can't say, however, that I am behaving badly
to you.'

'No,' answered Meddlechip, looking at him. 'I must say you are
easier to deal with than I anticipated. Well, if I give you my
cheque for five hundred--'

'Say six hundred,' observed Vandeloup, rising and going to a small
table in the corner of the room on which were pens and ink. 'I want
an extra hundred.'

'Six hundred then be it,' answered Meddlechip, quietly, rising and
going to his overcoat, from whence he took his cheque book. 'For
this amount you will be silent.'

M. Vandeloup bowed gracefully.

'On my word of honour,' he replied, gaily; 'but, of course,' with a
sudden glance at Meddlechip, 'you will treat me as a friend--ask me
to your house, and introduce me to Madame, your wife.'

'I don't see the necessity,' returned Meddlechip, angrily, going
over to the small table and sitting down.

'Pardon me, I do' answered the Frenchman, with a dangerous gleam in
his eyes.

'Well, well, I agree,' said Meddlechip, testily, taking up a pen and
opening his cheque book. 'You, of course, can dictate your own
terms.'

'I understand that perfectly,' replied Vandeloup, delicately,
lighting a cigarette, 'and have done so. You can't say they are
hard, as I said before.'

Meddlechip did not answer, but wrote out a cheque for six hundred
pounds, and then handed it to Vandeloup, who received it with a bow
and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.

'With this,' he said, touching his pocket, 'I hope to make nearly
ten thousand in a fortnight.'

Meddlechip stared at him.

'I hope you will,' he answered, gruffly, 'all the better for my
purse if you do.'

'That, of course, goes without saying,' replied Vandeloup, lazily.
'Have some more wine?' touching the bell.

'No more, thank you,' said Meddlechip, putting on his overcoat.
'It's time I was off.'

'By the way,' said M. Vandeloup, coolly, 'I have not any change in
my pocket; you might settle for the supper.'

Meddlechip burst out laughing.

'Confound your impudence,' he said, quickly, 'I thought you asked me
to supper.'

'Oh, yes,' replied Vandeloup, taking his hat and stick, 'but I
intended you to pay for it.'

'You were pretty certain of your game, then?'

'I always am,' answered Vandeloup, as the door opened, and Gurchy
rolled slowly into the room.

Meddlechip paid the bill without making further objections, and then
they both left Leslie's with the same precautions as had attended
their entry. They walked slowly down Bourke Street, and parted at
the corner, Meddlechip going to Toorak, while Vandeloup got into a
cab and told the man to drive to Richmond, then lit a cigarette and
gave himself up to reflection as he drove along.

'I've done a good stroke of business tonight,' he said, smiling, as
he felt the cheque in his pocket, 'and I'll venture the whole lot on
this Magpie reef. If it succeeds I will be rich; if it does not--
well, there is always Meddlechip as my banker.' Then his thoughts
went back to Kitty, for the reason of his going home so late was
that he wanted to find out in what frame of mind she was.

'She'll never leave me,' he said, with a laugh, as the cab drew up
in front of Mrs Pulchop's house; 'if she does, so much the better
for me.'

He dismissed his cab, and let himself in with the latch key; then
hanging up his hat in the hall he went straight to the bedroom and
lit the gas. He then crossed to the bed, expecting to find Kitty
sound asleep, but to his surprise the bed was untouched, and she was
not there.

'Ah!' he said, quietly, 'so she has gone, after all. Poor little
girl, I wonder where she is. I must really look after her to-morrow;
at present,' he said, pulling off his coat, with a yawn, 'I think
I'll go to bed.'

He went to bed, and laying his head on the pillow was soon fast
asleep, without even a thought for the girl he had ruined.




CHAPTER V


THE KEY OF THE STREET

When Kitty left Mrs Pulchop's residence she had no very definite
idea as to what she was going to do with herself. Her sole thought
was to get as far away from her former life as possible--to
disappear in the crowd and never to be heard of again. Poor little
soul, she never for a moment dreamed that it was a case of out of
the frying pan into the fire, and that the world at large might
prove more cruel to her than Vandeloup in particular. She had been
cut to the heart by his harsh cold words, but notwithstanding he had
spoken so bitterly she still loved him, and would have stayed beside
him, but her jealous pride forbade her to do so. She who had been
queen of his heart and the idol of his life could not bear to
receive cold looks and careless words, and to be looked upon as an
encumbrance and a trouble. So she thought if she left him altogether
and never saw him again he would, perhaps, be sorry for her and
cherish her memory tenderly for evermore. If she had only known
Gaston's true nature she would not thus have buoyed herself up with
false hopes of his sorrow, but as she believed in him as implicitly
as a woman in love with a man always does, in a spirit of self-
abnegation she cut herself off from him, thinking it would be to his
advantage if not to her own.

She went into town and wandered about listlessly, not knowing where
to go, till nearly twelve o'clock, and the streets were gradually
emptying themselves of their crowds. The coffee stalls were at all
the corners, with hungry-looking people of both sexes crowded round
them, and here and there in door steps could be seen some outcasts
resting in huddled heaps, while the policemen every now and then
would come up and make them move on.

Kitty was footsore and heart-weary, and felt inclined to cry, but
was nevertheless resolved not to go back to her home in Richmond.
She dragged herself along the lonely street, and round the corner
came on a coffee stall with no one at it except one small boy whose
head just reached up to the counter. Such a ragged boy as he was,
with a broad comical-looking face--a shaggy head of red hair and a
hat without any brim to it--his legs were bandy and his feet were
encased in a pair of men's boots several sizes too large for him. He
had a bundle of newspapers under one arm and his other hand was in
his pocket rattling some coppers together while he bargained with
the coffee-stall keeper over a pie. The coffee stall had the name of
Spilsby inscribed on it, so it is fair to suppose that the man
therein was Spilsby himself. He had a long grey beard and a meek
face, looking so like an old wether himself it appeared almost the
act of a cannibal on his part to eat a mutton pie. A large placard
at the back of the stall set forth the fact that 'Spilsby's
Specials' were sold there for the sum of one penny, and it was over
'Spilsby's Specials' the ragged boy was arguing.