Greystones, 23 April 1904

My Dearest Lizzie,

     Of course you'll say I've been neglecting you, my sweet. Or Will
you think me downright lazy? " Where is that letter he promised? " you
wonder, and a frown wrinkles that beautiful brow of yours!

     But that is nothing compared to the astonishment with which you
will read the address from which I write. Greystones! What can your
very own Charles be doing as assistant in a reformatory for wayward
young women? For, alas, I am only the assistant here. It is " Miss
Martinet " , as the girls call her, who rules the establishment.

     Let me explain, my love. On that dreary day of our separation,
when your family escorted you from our last rendezvous at the
Grosvenor Hotel to the boat-train at Victoria, I was at my wit's end.
Bereft of you, and well-nigh penniless, I went back to my rooms in
Jermyn Street, paid off the cabbie, and mounted the stairs. I mixed a
hock and seltzer, lit a cheroot and pondered on the beastliness of
life. So lost in gloom was I that I did not for a time notice the
envelope which the porter had laid upon the table. It bore the imprint
of the family lawyers, Raven and Raven, of Gray's Inn Walk.

     My first reaction, you may imagine, was to think that it must be
a communication from the father who, far from acknowledging me, never
had the courtesy to marry my mother. What the deuce, I thought, can
the old skinflint want of me now? Ain't he cut me off without a sov
already? And ain't that the worst a cove can do to his own flesh and
blood?

     Had the day been colder and the fire lit, I should have tossed
the envelope in the flames! Yet, as it lay there, nothing was to be
lost by looking over it's contents.

     What do you think, Lizzie? It was from old Silas Raven himself,
in his crabbed lawyer's script! He presented his compliments to me -
the first time the old devil had ever done so - and begged my
attendance at his chambers at my earliest convenience. There, he
promised, I would learn something to my advantage.

     Now, my sweet, all that tosh is a lawyer's way of telling a
fellow that there's a pocketful of sovereigns waiting if he'll only
have the goodness to fetch 'em. I was down the stairs quicker than
Gladstone's hand up a whore's skirt, for I scarcely knew where my next
meal was coming from. I hailed a Hansom cab, clambered aboard, and
off we went to Grey's Inn Walk, with harness a-jingling and hooves
clopping.

     If you never meet Silas Raven you won't miss much - he's a
spiteful old devil of the prosecuting kind. A ghastly grimacing
 " phiz " , like an dose of rigor mortis. To my amazement, though, he had
set out a tray of glasses and a bottle of fine old Madeira on his desk
before my arrival. Hallo, I says to myself, here's a rum go and no
mistake!

     As the old loon went driveling on, it appeared he was talking
about my Uncle Brandon, an eccentric old bird who was my Gov'ner's
brother. I knew little enough of Uncle Brandon, whose life was vaguely
described as " rackety " and who had spent much of it in foreign parts.

     When Silas Raven, our cadaverous old brief, informed me that my
revered uncle had gone to a better place and left me possessed of his
entire estate, I could scarcely believe my ears. That Uncle Brandon's
drinking and whoring had made him ripe for plucking I never doubted.
Yet I had no idea he had even heard my name, let alone made me his
sole heir.

     My first impulse was to milk old Silas Raven for a few hundred
sovereigns on the spot. Yet it was not to be. The close-fisted senior
partner of Raven & Raven read my thoughts. He favoured me with a grim
that would have been unbecoming even on a stoat.

     " There is - ahem! - There is a condition attending the legacy of
your late uncle. Should you fail to fulfill it, the entire inheritance
is to be forfeited and the moneys applied to the Shoreditch Refuge for
Penitent Magdalenes. " 

     Did you ever read in the story books, Lizzie, how a fellow's
blood is said to run cold? I never knew the meaning of that until that
moment. What need had Penitent Magdalenes compared to my own? The
senile old curmudgeon grinned at me like a skull.

     " You will become possessed of the funds held in trust when you
have spent six months in gainful employment, precisely according to
your late uncle's instructions. Should you fail . . . " 

     Gainful employment? I was not even sure, just then, what the
term meant. A chap who bets a sov or two on the nags, or lays a wager
at Baccarat, may gain. Then again, he may lose. I need not have
worried, however. My Uncle Brandon had left me no choice.

     " Gainful employment! " sneered Silas Raven. " On Monday next you
will take up your post as Assistant Director of Greystones Reformatory
on the Sussex Coast. You will remain thus occupied until further
instructions, confided to me by your uncle, are given you. " 

     " Look here! " I said crossly, " suppose they won't have me at this
place, whatever it is? Dammit, it ain't justice to bilk a fellow of
his inheritance when he can't do what's ordered. " 

     " Have no fear, " answered the old swine softly, " Your uncle was a
benefactor of the Greystones charity. Arrangements are already made
for you. " 

     " The devil they are! " said I, quite taken aback.

    " Very uncongenial to a shiftless young man of your habits, no
doubt! " He murmured, " yet make no mistake, sir! Fail to fulfill the
condition and I will see you cut from your uncle's will! " 

     He would too, I never doubted that! So I left his chambers,
descended the steep wooden stairs of the old building, and turned away
under the broad trees of Gray's Inn Walk, which were just then coming
into early leaf.

    All the way back to Jermyn Street in the cab I tried to puzzle
out why a randy old uncle I had never seen should leave me all his
spondoolicks, and on such conditions. What could it possibly matter to
him if I spent a few months supervising the girls of Greystones, or
working at some other profession or doing nothing at all? Why not
leave a chap the load of oof, as they say, and have done with it?
Why blight his life by taking him away from the London season and
sending him off to the seaside, where he might die of tedium?

     Lizzie! Lizzie! How I wronged the frisky old fellow! Had I known
what was to befall me at Greystones, I might almost have heard his
laughter ringing out in the celestial spheres at my fury.

     Fifty sovereigns were forwarded by old Silas Raven to see me
safe to Pinebourne-on-sea. Next morning, I received a letter from
the Directress of Greystones, known to one and all as Miss
Martinet. I was expected on the following Monday. the dogcart would
be sent to the station to meet the three O'clock train.

     Pinned to the letter was a list of useful clothing, including
riding apparel for supervising the equestrian discipline of the girls. A
further note, which made my eyebrows rise slightly, referred to
 " instruments of correction. " Such implements were provided my Miss
Martinet for her colleagues. However, if I possessed a particular type
of cane, birch or whip, and if I preferred to use this, I might bring
it with me. Naturally, the note added, it must be inspected and
approved before I was authorized to use it on the bare bottom of any
delinquent young woman.

     I nearly choked to death on my breakfast toast. With great care,
I re-read the sentence. The words were still there - " bare bottom " - I
had not fallen victim to hallucinations after all.

     That was Saturday morning. Already my regrets at being being
parted from the London season were diminishing, and it seemed to me
that Monday could not come soon enough. Believe me, Lizzie, it was not
the thought of tanning the bare backside of a schoolgirl of fourteen
or a runaway young wife of twenty-five which thrilled me. I was
possessed by thoughts of what else might happen once I was privileged
to see them slip down their knickers and pose for me.

     By noon on Monday my bags were packed and secured, all my
possessions crammed into them, as I waited with impatience for the cab
that was to take me to Victoria. the half-past twelve train was
prompt to the minute. Seated in the dining car, I watched the houses
of Pimlico and Balham speed past. Soon we were out in the countryside
of Croydon and Purley, trees and hedges flashing by.

    By breaking into old Silas Raven's fifty sovs, I sported a bottle
of Chateau Rothschild and a first-rate spread. I sniffed my post-
prandial brandy and smoked a cigar as we pulled in towards Lewes under
the graceful curve of the Sussex downs. By three O'clock I stood on
the platform at Pinebourne, breathing in the sharp clean air of the
sea, which lay just beyond the town.

     I knew Miss Martinet at first glance. She was quite tall, and
smartly dressed with a look which one calls " handsome " . Nearer thirty-
five than forty, she wore her brown hair in a somewhat old-fashioned
coiffure. Her manner was quite well educated and pleasant. She might
well have been a young widow, or, as proved to be the case, a lively
minded spinster with a predilection for bending wayward young women to
her will.

     We drove together in the dogcart, exchanging pleasantries.
Pinebourne is an agreeable place, I supposed, with it's tree-lined
shopping streets and it's elegant, broad-paved Marine Parade. The
freshly painted pier, the bandstand, the ornamental gardens with their
yellow flowers in bloom, lay beside a quiescent sea.

     Would you imagine Greystones as some grim fortress of vengeance,
Lizzie? How wrong you would be! Though surrounded by a high wall,
which the nimblest damsel would never scale, the house and grounds
were delightful. The house itself accommodated thirty petulant
Magdalenes, as old Silas Raven might call them, though their
misdemeanors were more varied than the term implies. This extensive
villa was light and airy, fronting onto ornamental grounds. Beyond the
kitchen gardens rose the smooth turf of the downs, whose cliffs fell
sheer to the tide. On the other side was a gentle slope, where the
resinous smell of warm pine led down to the rippling waters of the
bay.

     I took tea with Miss Martinet who, because of my Uncle's
charitable interest in Greystones, treated me more as a guest than an
employee. Presently, however, she began upon a subject which had
already crossed my mind.

     " You will find, " Said she, " that in such a place as this there
are certain romantic passions which develop between some of the girls.
A few of these are genuine affections, others are basely criminal. I
cannot advise you whether to permit or punish such infatuations. It
must be at your discretion. Whatever your decision, you may depend on
my support. " 

     " I shall be grateful for that, Ma'am, " I said, swallowed my tea
hard. The cup rattled nervously in the saucer, as I sat on the edge of
the little chair in her drawing room.

     " Some of the girls, " she continued rather self-consciously, " are
also liable to develop crushes or passions upon any man in the
establishment. You, I am sure, will best know how to deal with that.
They are also given to inventing stories about his activities. Have no
fear, though, your word in such matters will always prevail with me. " 

     " I shall strive to be worthy of such trust, " I gasped weakly.

     " As for the other matter, " she murmured, " whatever course of
action you feel to be necessary in matters of chastisement must be a
decision for you alone. " 

     As she spoke, Miss Martinet looked at me across the tea table
with a new depth of meaning in her clear grey eyes. " I shall not
interfere with your wishes in this matter, " she went on, " except to
assure you that use of the rod is, paradoxically, the kindest form of
correction in the end. A single severe punishment may save a wayward
young woman from evil ways and repeated penalties later on. " 

     " I'm obliged, Ma'am, " says I, awkwardly, " deuced obliged for that. " 

     Miss Martinet smiled kindly at me. " Then we understand one
another, " she said quietly. " I knew that if your Uncle Brandon chose
you as his heir he was certain that you would fit in with our way of
doing things at Greystones. " 

     Now, Lizzie, it may be that Miss Martinet understood, as she put
it. I'll be damned if I did! Still I sensed, don't you see, some good
sport ahead - just the kind that you and I love to hear of! Beyond the
lace curtains of her up-stairs drawing room, the sun shone upon waves
that were green as grass. Distantly, from the bandstand on the Marine
Parade, came sounds of regimental brass.

     " Tomorrow morning, " said Miss Martinet, " you shall make your
inspection. It was your uncle's wish that we should make you welcome
here. I and the girls were, upon his instructions, to offer you every
facility. Every facility. " She looked at me, as she repeated those
words, with the same depth of meaning that had made my heart beat
faster a few moments before.

     Ah, Lizzie! Tomorrow morning! What tales shall I have to tell you
when I take up my pen tomorrow evening? For the present, as the lamp
burns low, I bid you a loving goodnight and remain

Your Own Adoring

     Charles

To be Continued
.