Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 67, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 March 1910 — The Anti-thid [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Anti-thid

It was the misfortune of Beryl Nlehto live amongst famous people. It the misfortune of Arthur Dobell/ who was something in the city—an Insignificant something without fame or repute—to fall In love with Beryl Nicholson. . Neither years, money nor social positlon divided them. The entire disparity consisted In the fact that she lived, moved and had her being in the golden atmosphere of fame. And that is the next worst thing to being famous one's self.

Her own people were horribly famous.

Her father was the renowned Prof. Nicholson, confessedly one of Britain’s greatest scientists. In himself he was a dull old bookworm, to whom no one could listen for more than five minutes without getting fearfully bored. But from everyone who did not know® him personally five minutes’ attention was secured. Was he not famous?

Her brother was a musical doctor, who had written an opera that had (crowning . dignity!) been once performed Garden during the grand opera season. The performance was not repeated. The papers said that this was because British music was not encouraged at home of German and Italian art. The critics In their hearts believed that Nicholson’s music was not worthy of a second repetition. Wagner is to be preferred without water. Her brother-in-law was a well-known novelist. His fame once acquired by a good novel, he turned out a successor every nine months with monotonous regularity. There was never the smallest variation in style or matter, but neither his publisher, the circulating libraries nor the uncritical reading public minded that. Fortunately for our modern novelists, a reputation that is born in the hills may descend to the plains without nine readers out of ten being in the slight est degree aware of any difference of altitude.

Arthur Dobell thought of those appallingly famous three and shot his fingers helplessly through his hair. ' And they filled only the inner court of fame in his loved Beryl’s life —that was the worst of it The outer courts were often flocked with renowned people. There were “at homes" held monthly through the winter months when celebrities celebrities in culture.music and literature—buzzed like bees round the Nicholson hive. Except for that inveterate buzzing they all behaved like ordinary people, and only about one in twenty had the smallest distinction of appearance. Dobell would get into a corner, put his fingers into his ears and groan aloud; that buzz was too awful. Was it his fancy that Beryl took color from her environment? Thank heaven, she appeared to have no aspirations after being a celebrity herself, but she basked like a cat in the sunshine of fame about her. It was a horrible image to use of a girl one loved, but he could think of nothing else that so exactly hit off the truth. And he, alas! could contribute nothing to the glow radiating upon her personality. He could not bring even a farthing rushlight of fame to add <o the general illumination. Suppose he took his courage in both his hands, proposed and was accepted! Would his sense of satisfaction survive those douches of cold water sprinkled from every hand? He saw himself introduced at Beryl’s fiance to that tiresome procession of celebrities. “What name did you say? Dobell? I don’t- seem to have heard of anyone

W that name. What -has he done? Nothing? What is he, then? Only a city man! Oh, how absolutely uninter•sting! Really, Beryl might have looked rather higher. Not even wen off. you say? Dear me. not a single redeeming feature! The girt has simply - thrown herself away on him Have yon read that delightful paper <if the Professor’s in the Twentieth Century on Socialism and Science?” Such was the exact position of at-

fairs when Dobell had .his Saturday afternoon visitor. It was a miserable day, and Dobell was spending the half holiday curled up in an armchair before the fire. Tonight he had to face one of those awful monthly gatherings at the Nicholsons’. A man could be excused for spending the afternoon in selfish fashion. “A gentleman to se« you, sir.” “Who, Elizabeth?” r

“He gave me that card, sir.” The name on the visiting card— Martin Ellison—was not enlightening. “I don’t know him. What does he want?”

“He said It was business, sir. That was all. Shall I show him in?” Dobell grudgingly gave consent.

The man who entered with quick step had long black hair, brushed straight back from his forehead, and sharp, little eyes that outdid the hair in blackness. He was dressed in an unobtrusively brown lounge suit rather the worse for wear—wore a soft felt hat, once gray, but now going green from its exposure to the elements. He stoqd directly in front of Dobell and began with declamation: "I have to ask you a thousand pardons for disturbing you on a Saturday afternoon. Dobell motioned his visitor to a chair. He hoped that the sitting posture would tend to subdue this human tornado. ’’Oh, that’s all right Now what can I do for you, sir?" “Do? You can set me on my feet again.” Dobell’s mouth closed with a snap. Really, what had the usually astute Elizabeth been about in not spotting that the man was a beggar? “Look here, my friend, let me be quite straight with you! If you want another five shillings to make up your railway fare to that place near Stornaway where you’ve heard of a job, I’m simply not your man.” “You misunderstand me. This is very painful. I don't want a penny piece from you. I believe that you are a friend—an intimate friend—of the great Professor Nicholson. I am here to ask you for a. letter of introduction to that distinguished man.” Dobell breathed easier. So he was not the target—but another. Certainly, this tornado might galvanize for a while the professor into something resembling life.

“I see—er. Well, I might do that, if you tfell me exactly why you want to be introduced to him.” “Willingly! I wish to make him more famous.” Dobell felt a little sick. Of all the unhappy suggestions! Make the Professor more famous when the fame that was already his was the curse and blight of Dobel’s life. If the fellow had suggested making the Professor infamous, his proposal might have been worth listening to. “Oh, f am really afraid I can’t help you, then.” “What! You grudge him the great honor and renown which I can bestow upon him?" “My dear sir, do try and understand the position! Already the Professor is the pampered child of fortune. He has letters after his name that make every compositor swear. Would he thank you for seeking to give him that of which he already has a surfeit? Let me advise you to put your proposal before some smaller and obscurer man!” . "Will you help me, then?" “Please be a little more explicit!” replied Dobell, with ruffled dignity. “In what precise way do you want assistance?*-- — r'~ r ... 1 ' ' ’.7'

“I require money and influence to put a superb new invention on the market: No. that is putting It wrongs Ty. > I am willing to hand over all personal interest in the invention in return for a.small but assured income that will keep me for the rest of my days.” < “And what is the invention?* inquired Dobell, dubiously. » ‘‘One that the world—the mechanical

world —has been longing for for years. It is an Anti-Skid. It effectually prevents ths wheels of any motor vlhicles, however heavy and cumbrous, from skidding. Once the thing is In -use, a new era will dawn for the motor world." His hearer scratched his chin. He remembered the greasy state of Leadenhall street during that very morning. He had looked out of his office window and smiled, although really tor anyone on the level of the street it was no smiling matter. Giddy motor omnibuses were pirouetlng from one side of the road to another, and the policemen on«point duty were powerless to arrest them. One had crashed into a four-wheel >1 cab placidly standing on the Leadenhall street rank, and was making off with a wheel as a souyenir. A statue up West would certainly await the public benefactor who would put an end to the holocaust of the streets which the advent of imperfect automobillsm hag brought about. But the practical man in Dobell asserted himself. He eyed the stranger suspiciously. Face to face with shrinking dividends and increasing Third Party claims which the Courts almost invariably decided against those cursed Juggernauts of the streets, the poor motor bus companies had been experimenting more or less Ineffectually for years with so-called Anti-Skidders. Was it credible that this shabby .and eccentric stranger had the priceless secret up his sleeve and had not even set a value upon it?

Martin Ellison evidently Saw the Doubting Thomas in Dobell’s eye. He produced from an inner pocket a large sheaf of documents and harangued. Some men can harangue with conviction. It is the essence of successful oratory in every rank of life —from the man who gathers a crowd and sells dozens of useless gim-cracks in - the street to the man whose glibness deceives an electorate and gets him into Parliament. Dobell’s visitor had the gift in abundance, and he turned it, so to speak, full tap on. Dobell felt that he was in danger of being submerged beneath the flood. ‘ But ” he protested for the sixth time. . Ellison flourished a paper before Dobell’s eyes. “Mark the signature on that!” he cried with emphasis. The signature looked like the trail of a fly that had been wrathfully beating its way home after sudden immersion in an ink-pot, but Dobell was prepared to be properly Impressed. “Of course, you recognize it?” “Well, I don’t collect autographs, and-it’s not absolutely familiar.” . Ellison chanted the full and august name of an engineering authority of whom even Dobell had heard. "Really!” he observed. “Yes, and you can read for yourself what he says.” The report—luckily, in a different handwriting—was clothed in severe technique, but the common words that occasionally occurred were of an encouraging and even enthusiastic character. It was hardly likely that an engineer of such eminence would commit himself to so deflnite a statement if there were nothing tn the thing. “I know what you are thinking of. You would like to meet the author of that report?" “Precisely!" returned Dobell. “Nothing easier! I can bring him here any evening next week you like to name. We shall have a model with us that will give ocular demonstration in the Anti-Skid in action.”

Dobell’s hopes began to rise. They were getting from theory to fact now, and the atmosphere was clearer. But one small doubt obtruded itself. “May I ask one thing? Why have you not got your friend—this engineer —to take up the thing for you?” “For a very simple reason! Don’t you know that he is Head Engineer to the biggest Tube Railway system in London? The Tubes and the omnibuses are now, as you know, at daggers drawn; the battle of the fares is being hotly raged. Picture the situation if he—the servant of the Tubes —had anything to do with an invention that would pave the way for ’buses! Why, his position wouldn’t be worth a month’s screw!” The explanation was more than satisfactory. “I’m engaged on Monday,” said Dobell. “Shall we say Tuesday night at 8:30?” “It will suit me perfectly.” “I shall take the liberty of asking a friend of mine in. He’s a bit of a mechanic and a wealthy man. As a large shareholder in the Rearguard Omnibus Company he has been looking very dismal lately, and will be extraordinarily interested in your invention.” “My dear Mr. Dobell, the arrangement is a perfect one. Tuesday night at half-past 8, then! I cannot sufficiently express my sense of obligation to you. As a small return, perhaps you will allow me to christen the invention the Dobell Anti-Skid. I don’t care two straws for fame myself. My very dear sir, good-night!” He was gone. Dobell sat down, his eyes gleaming. < Clearly the man was no impostor. Judged by infallible City standards, an impostor would certainly have borrowed ten shillings to tide him over till Tuesday. He had not even suggested arriving in time for dinner on Tuesday evening. The man was wholly genuine and sincere, if a little simple. Dobell lit his pipe, and a fairy palace reared itself through the tobaccosmoke. He was going to get even with those Nicholsons. Fame such as theirs —ay, greater than here within his grasp. He would marry Beryl and yet hold- his head proudly aloft. In the Nicholson courts of fame other celebrities would speak his name with bated breath.

The Dobell Anti-Skid wu going down to posterity with the Gladstone bag and Macadam pavement. • *' \ * • .• ■ ■ • • ■ Four hours later Arthur Dobell entered the Nicholson portals with a delightful sense of elation. Those famous names, the majority grotesquely mispronounced by the butler at the door, did not appall him In the least. At his own announcement not a head had turned, as usual, but this time the neglect was powerless to affect him. A little while, and Arthur Dobell, of Anti-Skid fame, would be the center of all eyes. He would be able to greet many of those celebrities with the merest nod; some he would absolutely cut. The prospect was delicious. Beryl’s father greeted him- in- a manner that was—for the professor—distinctly exaggerated. “My dear Arthur, I was afraid I might never see you here again." Dobell reddened. Had his face really expressed his feelings so grossly as that? He opened his mouth to apologize, but some one had grasped the Professor’s arm and was leading him away. The evening was nearly half over before Dobell had the chance of a tete-a-tete with Beryl. He had been noticing that her face was paler than usual, and that she moved among the crowd with less than her customary self-possession. Was she tired of being high-priestess in this temple of fame?

He felt a double thrill of satisfaction because they were now alone in the conservatory, and the isolation was of her planning. “Have you noticed anything tonight, Arthur?" she asked abruptly when they were seated. “Anything? Where?” “Hush, npt a soul knows. About father. Oh, we 'had a ghastly experience about half-past 5 this afternoon. Father's life was threatened." “My goodness!” ' “A madman shot at him in his study —two shots—but, fortunately, both missed fire.” “Great heavens!” “It was a poor, demented fellow, who had escaped from a private asylum; luckily, he’s safely back there now. Father, of course, saw at once that he was crazy, and, unfortunately, moved towards the bell when he should have humored him. The man stepped in front of him and went on gabbling about this Anti-Skid which he said he had invented, and wanted to call after father. What did you say, Arthur?” “Er—nothing.” “I was sure you spoke. The fellow whipped out his revolver and—” “Ugh! I Ugh!” “I’m frightening you, Arthur.” “Not at all, dear! It’s the horror of the scene.” ■ “You haven’t said much about poor father.” “Oh, it must have been terrible for him —just terrible.” “It was. And it all happened because father is so famous. Arthur, I hate fame. Oh, I’d give anything to get right away out of it all. If only some kind person—somebody quite obscure—would only pay St. George and rescue me from this dragon of fame which . Arthur, what's the matter? You’re hurting my hand. Arthur, you didn’t think —I—meant— you, dldeyou?” . They are married now; —-— And the gift to posterity will not be the Dobell Anti-Skid. —Black and White.