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Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 401, 14 January 1904, Page 2

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i CsUPISH YL-tfJontinued.) * And had you bo *- see of tr-spata dor. Bfu* *&«* midnight exeursiona r asked the magistrate. _ Mr Blame smiled, sad the smim told m his f iToor. *I suppose I ought to have had,* he nphsd. ■ Bot the fact ia that until Mr ■Habeas took the home, ife had onlj been let for very short periods, bo that it was often empty j aad when it was occupied I am afraid I got to look npon the cceupaaumore aa lodgsrs than as having aa udoaive right or possession.' *¥« yon moat have known,' pursued th« magiatrase, somewhat sternly, 'that jour conduct was liable to an mnfortnnate Mr Binnia reflected. 'Perhaps if I had been lass tare of my motives, I might hare taken a more strictly legal view of my conduct,' he replied after a pause; and the reply gained for him, even more than the sank had done, the general Sympathy of the court. * And is there no secret hiding-place in jour own house T asked the magistrate. *Ko/ ~ 'Tot you chose to go on living there when all four disseultxes would hare disappeared had you simply moved int j number two.'

*I was brought up in somber one,* answered Mr Binnie, 'and my father bad bred there before me. Saatimeni is not logical, I know; bat I went on living in number one for what. I suppose, can only be caTtad sentimental reasons; partly, alio, perhaps, from habit.' B was as tarn paint that the interest in she ease became mere vivid, aa the jeweller's testimony suggested a probable motive far the crime. The next question asked was: •Was there, at the data of the murder, anything of value in the secret recess P* •There was,* came the reply: and the a oeationa and answers then proceeded as feeDows:

* How long before the murder had you paid your but visit to number two ?' A thrill of excitement spread throughcut the court as the answer came. •On the vary night on which it was •cmsaittod.' Ms what bone F 'About one o'clock. It is the hour at which people who go early to bed sleep . thai? soundest.* *Di(f you, daring year visit, hear or see anything thai aright haws any bearing upon the crime committed in the house that night?' A momentary pause followed this euec&ioo, and a increment went through the liatenmg crowd as the words which succeeded it. *As I closed ths recess I heard a alight sound in the pastase.* * What kind o! a sound V 'As of footsteps.* ■ i 'And them r * I supposed tbat Mrs Bazt was ap later than usual, and X instantly extinguished tbefeapac I had lighted, and made good my retreat.* The rv ply came as an anticlimax t» the excitement which had been aroused, but the interne retired again as the questioning went on. 'Would it have bun possible for anyone to have followed joa through the Lidd-n estrange from your own house to number twof* * H»rdij ; without my being aware of it* ' Y u aie of opinion that the sounds yeu beard have been made by eomebody who preceded you in entering the tease P I * Always preeanrag that it «as net Mrs B»r I heard, that is my opinion .* * D • yeu think it would hare been poasiblt £• r the murderer to have eater d the hxu*> by thehiddea *&y ?' ♦Hut unless he knew the secret of it* •Are you aware of anybody who knew the secret of it except yourself F •K«*." Mr Binnie hesitated. 'With the exeep ion oi one otter parson.* ? r . Teeta #*■ a m meat of breathless aueaee, for the anawtr wee an accusation. * Can you name the person V " Am I bound to answer V ' You are bound.' * The only person I know of besttes myself who knows of the hidden entrance and the hidden recess is my nephew, BMHa Belwoooy * Where is he at present?* * I don't know.* * Does he Ufa in London F •I believe so. I have not seen him for ",; more than a year." ' k* Have yow *-y reason for believing him '.' guilty of esy share in tnii crime?'

F 'Nane.* Mr Binsie hesitated and k pt**"!d Ma hand acroea his brow. 'Tooare hotrod to speak.* parsoedthe If fis u my aaphflw/ auraanred Mr ■anie, aid for tha ftst time hia voice Mfarod, 'I quarrelled with him, it is P 'ladcyop agma/ the lawyer went on yntoeMagiy, 'if yon have any reason to npoaa ba isifht hare Lsd a part in this hfcaappeared to psll hinuelf Ipdet a dead nleaoeanB£r distinct tones: ' ■p waa incidental to a vyoang nun, than, of fcnnot see who else of the ■^Mfortuiak-

VOBLkJinmm BY BPECIAL AMANGEIMNT. I THMIGHT,

ffenrv Dunn.. < COPYRIGHT,

ihtr be might hive robbed yon V Again tfc e j<»«ell« hesitated, and again wa* <v>mmi>nd«id to speak *H? IB «n want of money/ he said at last, ' wa are «n bad terms, and he is the only person who ha* the requisite knowledge.*

The next Question csme from the magistrate and was on different lines. ' Why did yon, knowing what you know, not come forw&id and give year evidence at the inquest V ' At the time of the inquest/ Mr Bianie answered, »I bad none of my present knowledge I believed the sound I had heard to have been made by the murdered woman herself, and I did not connect the murder with the idea of burglary until I discovered that the recesß was empty.'

'And the contents were, T think you said, money ? Bank notes, gold V 'Bank notes and a little gold, besides one or two diamonds which I had lately purchased * ' You kept stones also then in the rece=a P'

'Vary occasionally/ The rest of the examination wr of a lesa sensational character, and brought oat merely the following facts i that Philip Bel wood was Mr Binnie's ward as well as his nephew; that he had been brought up in his uncle's house, and, though he became his own master at the age of twenty-one, had continued to live with his ancle for three years after attaining his {majority j that he had then incurred his guardian's" displeasure by entering into a marriage engagement of which the latter violently disapproved; and that since the rupture he had been living on the Email income he had inherited from his mother, and trying to make his own way in the world, wit H, as far as Mr Binnie eould tell, very poor success.

The newspaper reporters and the public at huge streamed out of the court, eager, excited, busied in discussion, Mr Binnie returned to New Bond Street without a stain upon his character, and before fire o'clock that afternoon, Philip Selwood, sitting brieflsss and despondent in a small bare room in Lincoln's Inn, was arrested oa a double charge—the capital crime of murder, and the lesser one of burglary.

CHAPIEB TEL—IN THE BATS- : KELTJtt. Muriel Fale was lying awake in her little bedroom in the German town of Pforzheim. It was early in the morning, nearly time to get up, but not suite time yet, so she lay still and thought. She was thinking of the mysterious murder of which Philip Selwood had made mention in his last two letters, and wondering if there would be any further news of it in the letter which she expected to-day; for it was Sanday, and ehe was sure to have a letter from Philip on Sanday morning* Strange that the murder Bhould have been committed in a house she knew something about, one of the three old bocses belonging to that uncle whom Philip had so bitterly offended by falling in love with herself, She had no fault but her poverty, but that w;<s all Buffi cUnt in Mr Bianie'e eyes. That Philip, for whom nis uncle cneriehed ambitions, should, tk% the beginning of his career, encumber himself with an engagement to a peanileea girl, whosa relations had neither lateresc nor position, was an unpardon&blo crime, espe .ia'ly as he might, s j hia uncle averred, havs mvla a decidedly adv&atageous match; aad forgiveaes? c uld bo purchased only at the cost or teeafcing eft the engagement. This meane of r conciliation Philip absolutely declined to take, though Muriel had Bug glared it Co biu more than oace, and as a step towards eadia? the engagement in tueonly say he would hear of, he continued his assiduous attendance at Lincols b Inn, while Muriel taught English in a German family. There was one sentence in Philip's last letter which ran in the girl's head; it was this; 'I see from the eveniag paper that it is supposed that the murder must have been oommitted with a knife with a lonr, thin blade; and the" public are asked to help in the search for such a knife.' A knife with a L»ng, thin blade. The phrase haunted Muriel's memory with a thrill of horror; there was something in it which touched her imagination, and the blade itself seemed to her a thing instinct with cruelty. . As she lay she could hear the tramp, tramp of the postman coming nearer and nearer, and her heart beat faster, for the lectei would soon be here now. The steps came up the stone staircase, paused for a moment while the siund o! the bell took their place, and then went on to the fiat above. There was a little space of waiting, fallowed by the expected tap at the door and Paula's voice: * A letter for theifraulein.' j ; Muriel waa up by this time and in her diessing-gowa, and did not loose an instant in opening the door. Yes, there was the letter, and the newspaper as well; hut the girl's heart sank with disappointment as ehe took them, for the letter—she knew at once by the size and shape of it, before she even glanced at the handwriting—was not the one she expected, mot from Philip at all 'fie promised I should-always hear on Sunday,' she said as she sat down on the edge of the bedw*He promiaed--and it's unkind wbeaJA fcU

lonely.' Than her v heart reproached her. 'Something must hare happened. He would never disappoint me if h«,iconld Mpii 1 . *• * ">:.- •: t i>rl The letter wu from the auat who' gave Muriel the only home she had ever, known: and aha. took it up and broke the seal with a sense o! ingratitute that it should be so little welcome. She broke, the seal and took the sheet of paper from, the envelope and read it, and all the emotions of the last few minutes were swept away by the tempest of horror, anguish, and longing; that rushed oyer her. Her Philip! That they should dare to suspect, to touch, to in jure him!. In x prißon ! Oh, it was too horrible. The longing to defend and save, to protect as well as to be protected, which forms part of all woman's lore which has any strength asd reality in it, rose in passionate foroe, impelling instantly to action. Bnt Bhe was bo far away jt*o far! Oh? why had Bhe ever left England?' She ought to have known—her love ought, to ha>4 forewarned her that misfortune was close ween bimi Had indeed dena so f JK*d not the feeling of intense distress, which "she had pnt down to the mere anguish of parting, been indeed a sort of presentiment of the evil that was to come f She remembered the. iemeaess of the feeling as she had said *lgood-bje to him on that night before she get out for Germany. Philip had taken her to the theatre, so that they should not spend their last evening in too sad a fashion, and they had walked home together. It was only ten days ago, bnt it seemed like years and years. And yet she remembered it all very clearly; the crowd and noise as they first came oat of the theatre, and then the streets getting quieter and quiter till they came to those silent, deserted ones in the neighborhood pf her aunt's house and the house that had once been Why, jeß—the thought came like a flush,—they had passed through that very street—the street where Philip had onse lived, the street of the murder; and, yes it waß—it was Thursday—the v<sry' night on which, the murder had been committed.

i Was this no use, this fact P Was it—oh, it she could only see clearly I—was it not a proof, a sort of proof P Had she not heard of something—wJaat did they call it-P. an alibi P—which proved that people uoold. not be in two places at tbe same time or something P And Philip bad been with her far into the night; for they had walked home, and walked very slowly, is order to lengthen oat the time. It mast have been half-past twelve o'clock wben he left herj or even later. Yes, it was a quarter to one; she remembered hearing the clock in the hall chime the treble eliime as she closed- the door behind Philip; and Aunt Annie had scolded her too, a little, and said it was too late to be out.

' She dressed hurriedly and went to Fran Ladenburg's room, and iH a confused torrent of broken German poared out an incoherent version of what had happened, and said that sue must go back to England, must go at once, bo that not a moment should be lost in saving Philip. Frau Ltdenburg was not much wiser at the end of Muriel's account than, she had been at the beginniag of it, and he; husband, who spoke English, told the girl to sit down and tell him quietly in her native tongue what had happened. His face grew grave as he listened; a girl's belief in her lover was no great proof of the lover's innocence; yet the intensity of it affected him in spite of his reasoning, and he found himself planning means to vindicate that Philip, whose title to vindication he felt to be uncertain.

• Wnat is in the newspaper P' he asked, after a pause of reflection. 'lt holds, perhaps, some farther information.' ' Oh, of course, yes. How stupid of me!' exclaimed Munel, and she unfolded the paper. It contained the account of Mr Binnie's arreßt and his examination before tho magistrate, and gave the reason for Philip Selwood's arrest in a much more circumstantial way than the letter had done.

«You certainly must return to England, said Herr Lidecburgh when he had read it, * and I can only hope that your description of how you spent the evening of the murder may be of some use in clearing Mr Selwood. But you cannot start before the evening; for you wonld gain no time by taking the slow train and itwould only add to your fati?ne. You must rest well to-day, so as to be ready for what lies before you.'

•Oh, I cannot rest/ cried Muriel. '1 muet do something. I feel that if I even started walking towards England, I should feel happier.* ' And your luggage ?' said Herr Ladanburg. ' No, my dear Miss, you must get through the tune in some other way. I tell you what we will do. This morning there is a concert in the Batskeller, and you shall go with me to Fruh Schopen. That will distract your thoughts a little, and in the afternoon there will be your packing, and by the time it is dene, it will soon be the hour to start.'

'Oh, I could not go anywhere to-day,' Muriel began. But Herr Ladenbnrg cut shoit her protestations, and told her in a a tune, almost of command, to be ready to go with him at eleven o'clock; and in the meantime he insisted upon her drinking a cup of ccfEae, and eating part, at least, of a roll Somehow the minutes and half-hours passed, and by and by Muriel found herself waiking through the streets of Prorsbeim by Herr Ladenburg'g side, and then descending the flight of steps which leads below the Bathaus, or Town Sail, to ehe large Beer-cellar beneath. Large i'.--deed, and low, with a vaulted stone roof, supported by many pillars, and with legends written over each of the many archways formed by the vaulting; asmbeis of tables, and each table surrounded by boys, youths, men of all ages, smoking, and drinking huge tankards of beer; at one side a coaster with beer taps which never ceased to flow, beyond the counter a band playing, and everywhere wreaths of smoke thickening the atmosphere Muriel edged her way through the crowd, following close behind her guide, her thoughts distracted a little, in spite of herself, from the anxiety which possessed them. It seemed impossible to get a place; every Beat was taken, every table crowded. Herr Ladenburg went to the further end of the cellar and entered the Weinstube, a smaller room where wine: as well as beer could be served, and here found two chairs and a space at one of the tables, (To be continued.)

Sorrel Soup. For this delicate French eoup the following ingredients-are necessary : A quarter of a pound of sorrel (after shredding), two ounces of butter, one pint of good white sauce, and a couple of dozen squares of bread. Wash and shred the sorrel; melt the butter in a stew-pan, and when hot put in the sorrel and cook for fire minutes. Then add the white siuca, and boil the soup for about fifteen minutes. Season with pepper and Bait to taste. Place the Equares of bread in the tureen and pour the coup over them. Vienna Kidney—Take an ox kidney and parboil it. When cold out into thin slices. Toesjin stew-pan with some bacon fat for five minutes. In a second stewpun dissolve an ounce of butter, add to it a dessertspoonful of flour, svnd let ail colour. Add a teacupful of goad gravy or stock, some finely chopped parsley, half the juice of a lemon, and pepper and salt. When nearly boiling, pour sauce over' the kidney and let all eimm?r very gently till the meat is tender.

Mutton Fritters and Tomato.—This is a good dish when a tasty course has to be made up quickly from the r«mains of a leg of mutton. Cut the meat into fingers, flavour with salad oil, with onion juice asd pepper. Brush over the meat with this. Mix a pinch of allspice with a beaten egg, dip the fritters into this, then shake in breadcrambs. Fry in deep fat till a golden colour. Drain and serve with some tomatoes that have been roasted whole.

Sole and Epicurean Sauce.—Fillet a good-sized sole, divide each into two pieces, tie into neat rolls, place on a buttered tin, cover with greased paper, and bake till cooked Remove each roll carefully on to a dish, take away the string, and pour oyer the following sauce: Peel a small cucumber, cut it into little pieces,, cook until tender in salted water, strain; and rub through a'■ hair sieve. When cold, stir this puree gradually into a gill and a half of mayonnaise sauce; add half a gill of cream, half a gill of aspic jelly, and a tsaspiojiful of anchovy sauce, a tablespoontul of tarragon vinegar, and a dessertspoonful of chutney, which should previously have been rubbed through a bair sieva. Season with pepper, salt, and. * a small pinch of c»3twra«&.