Half a Rogue | Page 6

Warrington's lips.
"A thief, bold, unscrupulous; not the petty burglar, no. A man who has
stolen funds intrusted to him for years; a man who has plundered the
orphan and the widow, the most despicable of all men. My mother died
of shame, and I knew nothing. My father left last night for South
America, taking with him all the available funds, leaving me a curt note
of explanation. I have neither money, friends, nor home. The
newspapers as yet know nothing; but to-morrow, to-morrow! The
banks have seized everything."
She continued her story. Sometimes she was superb in her wrath; at
others, abject in her misery. She seemed to pass through the whole
gamut of the passions.
And all this while it ran through Warrington's head--"What a theme for
a play! What a voice!"
He pitied the girl from the bottom of his heart; but what could he do for
her other than offer her cold sympathy? He was ill at ease in the face of
this peculiar tragedy.
All at once the girl stopped and faced him, There was a smile on her
lips, a smile that might be likened to a flash of sunlight on a wintry day.
Directly the smile melted into a laugh, mellow, mischievous,

reverberating.
Warrington sat up stiffly in his chair.
"I beg your pardon!" he said.
The girl sat down before a small writing-table. She reached among
some papers and finally found what she sought.
"Mr. Warrington, all this has been in very bad taste; I frankly confess it.
There are two things you may do: leave the house in anger, or remain to
forgive me this imposition."
"I fail to understand." He was not only angered, but bewildered.
"I have deceived you."
"You mean that you have lured me here by trick? That you have played
upon my sympathies to gratify ..."
"Wait a moment," she interrupted proudly, her cheeks darkening richly.
"A trick, it is true; but there are extenuating circumstances. What I have
told you HAS happened, only it was not to-day nor yesterday. Please
remain seated till I have done. I AM poor; I WAS educated in the cities
I have named; I have to earn my living."
She rose and came over to his chair. She gave him a letter.
"Read this; you will fully understand."
Warrington experienced a mild chill as he saw a letter addressed to him,
and his rude scribble at the bottom of it.
Miss Challoner--I beg to state that I have neither the time nor the
inclination to bother with amateur actresses. Richard Warrington.
"It was scarcely polite, was it?" she asked, with a tinge of irony. "It was
scarcely diplomatic, either, you will admit. I simply asked you for work.
Surely, an honest effort to obtain employment ought not to be met with

insolence."
He stared dumbly at the evidence in his hand. He recalled distinctly the
rage that was in his heart when he penned this note. The stage manager
had lost some valuable manuscript that had to be rewritten from
memory, the notes having been destroyed.
"For weeks," said the girl, "I have tried to get a hearing. Manager after
manager I sought; all refused to see me. I have suffered a hundred
affronts, all in silence. Your manager I saw, but he referred me to you,
knowing that probably I should never find you. But I was determined.
So I wrote; that was your answer. I confess that at the time I was
terribly angry, for courtesy is a simple thing and within reach of every
one."
To receive a lesson in manners from a young woman, when that young
woman is handsome and talented, is not a very pleasant experience. But
Warrington was, a thorough gentleman, and he submitted with grace.
"I know that you are a busy man, that you are besieged with
applications. You ought, at least, to have formal slips, such as editors
have. I have confidence in my ability to act, the confidence which
talent gives to all persons. After receiving your letter I was more than
ever determined to see you. So I resorted to this subterfuge. It was all
very distasteful to me; but I possess a vein of wilfulness. This is not my
home. It is the home of a friend who was kind enough to turn it over to
me this night, relying upon my wit to bring about this meeting."
"It was neatly done," was Warrington's comment. He was not angry
now at all. In fact, the girl interested him tremendously. "I am rather
curious to learn how you went about it."
"You are not angry?"
"I was."
This seemed to satisfy her.

"Well, first I learned where you were in the habit of dining. All day
long a messenger has