little history of my mistake, and am posting it from the top of Mont
Revard to my friend Ross, and have asked him to act as he thinks best.
It is hard to die, but, in my position, it is still harder to live.
Having set my entire affections in one direction, and having been
hopelessly unsuccessful, there is only one thing to be done, and that
is to end matters. And I shall end them to-night.
* * * * *
Extract from an Aix-les-Bains newspaper:--
"The body of a rich Englishman, named Gardner, who was staying at the
Hotel de l'Europe, was found lying at the bottom of the precipice
between Aix and Mont Revard. It is, of course, pure conjecture how the
unfortunate gentleman met his fate, but no foul play is suspected, as
his money and valuables were found upon his body. We anxiously await
developments. The police are maintaining a strict reserve."
* * * * *
A PUZZLED PAINTER.
WRITTEN IN COLLABORATION WITH THE LATE SIR AUGUSTUS HARRIS.
CAST.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY, an Artist.
MRS. TEMPENNY, his Wife.
CHARLES SYLVESTER, an Artist.
MRS. SYLVESTER, his Wife.
ROSALINE, a Model.
HENRICH SCHERCL, an Art Dealer.
ROBERT ADDISON, a Sporting Man.
SARAH ANN, a Maid-of-all-Work.
SUSAN, Parlourmaid at the Tempenny's.
GROGGINS, a Sheriff's Officer.
A PUZZLED PAINTER.
ACT I.
(SCENE I. TEMPENNY'S _Studio Doors R.L. and in Flat. As Curtain rises a
knocking is heard at D.R_.)
MRS. TEMPENNY (_off_).
Rembrandt--Rembrandt!
(_Door opens, enter_ MRS. TEMPENNY; _followed by_ MRS. SYLVESTER.)
MRS. TEMPENNY.
He isn't here. Come in, dear; I am sure he will be pleased to see
you--we will wait.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
_My_ husband hates to be disturbed in his studio. He says he can never
work again all day.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Artists are so different; Mr. Sylvester is more highly strung than
Rembrandt, I sometimes think. Rembrandt likes to see his friends in his
studio. I wonder where he has gone.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Gone to have a drink, I daresay.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
|