Heart of Gold.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 223, 20 September 1928, Page 23

Heart of Gold.

jj By C. M. MATHESON | jj Author of "NUT IN THE HUSK," etc. etc. jj

CHAPTER XII

pose as being young. They have their attractions, and a large number of people find pleasure and relaxation in them. Doreen Mallory had never entered the Hilarity until Conrad Murray took her t-Jiere. Until this occasion she had been taken out by this other young man. -Tim Lacy. The Hilarity was no place for his puree. His idea, too, of an evening's pleasure did not include this type at all. Doreen Mallory enjoyed that greatest of all pleasure*, an absolutely new sensation. We hear from those who saw them together that they dined and danced. They were under the public eve the whole time. You have neard one witness tell you that this girl was shy, that she and Murray kept together, refused to be drawn in with any other party, were decorous and blithe and left at the comparatively early hour of eleven o'clock—when, for most people, the evening is just beginning. "And now what am I to say? This man, Conrad Murray, is dead. Tne dead we'do not malign. But you have heard set forth in this court certain details of his life, certain stories of hie reputation. Not a bad young man, only a young and gay one. A heedless young man who took his fill of enjoyment and recked nothing of the co>t. A young-man-abont-town. A younp man of wide experience. Who. 1 ask you. was the victim? This girl—this innocent young girl who now facet; you—this girl Doreen Mallory, or that experienced an<i reckless young man? She had trustee him. In him she had reposed all hei confidence. She trusted him implicitly Yet. alone in that cab, on that shori drive, where no one could well see them when they were for a#few moment! apart from their fellows, he cast all de cent feeling, all sobriety, all honour t< the wind and ill-treated this child. L that torn dress—a dres3 ma.de by he: own fingers, earned by her own hones toil —you- see the proof of his ill-man nered conduct. I, ladies and gentlemen could find a harder term for his behavi our than that. Suffice it that he at tacked her. Consider all the circum stances of that dastardly attack. "What was this girl to do? Y'ou wh , have daughters answer tnat question .yau who ha\e a_yaimg wife,.the apple o , your eye, answer it. Alone in a ca "With a* man whom they have hithert

"Here again we see another link in a this chain, of misfortune,''- Sir Clement 1 continued., "If this man, Lacy, had r proved thfc ideal lover, he would riot J have rushed into suspicion and ill-teni- ' per at the sight of his beloved speak- ' ing to a fiian he did not know; or he 1 Mould at least have asked her reason- 1 ably for an explanation. But no—he f vented his. rage on Doreen. She. alarmed 1 and intimidated by his manner, runs j into her home. She has had neither time ; nor opportunity to confide in him. ' 'In order to save her parents from 1 xny of the worry over her lost position which is so troubling her, this child goes out as usual, and spends the whole day in a lonely-but pleasant revel—examining the work of other milliners in the West End, You have heard her account for every hour of that day. There is nothing whatever in that day or in any nther day to sive an iota of credence to my learned friend's charge that there \* :is in Doreen any tendency to prey on the young men of the West End. Her day of freedom was well spent. She met her so-called friend. She heard that lie had indeed intervened on her beha'f and with every promise of success. His news delighted her. When he suggested they should dine together she accepted the invitation. At least, she owed him Mime practical form of 'thank's, and what had she to give him in return but the pleasure of her company at dinner? "Step by step I ask you to consid-jr this story. Tut yourselves in her place. Turn back the of life and be young a2:iin with her—relieved of your care as -ho was relieved —grateful as she was grateful, anxious to please, trusting— trusting—innocent at heart. • There are not many of us who can go back with ease to, the days of our youth and understand the entire and I'Tf.'ct innocence of this girl, Doreen Mallory, and the absolute trust she reposed in this man who is now dead, and on ivbom be peace "Tlir-io two. Doreen Mallory and Conrul Murray, her friend ln= -he =upwent to the Hilarity restaurant. \V'> are not here to-day to pass any verdict on that report. One take* there places a<- one find- them —or one does not arethe hauntrltetßfc Atotieye<i yoiithjif the town and who". "also''moneyed,

earned to trust, suddenly and brutally ittacked by that man, what is the girl ;o do? "Frightened, almost overwhelmed, ilnjoet bereft, her very soul shocked by :his revelation of man's vile nature, what can she do ? Is ahe weakly to subnit? Is ehe to reciprocate this feeling )f passion? Is ehe too, to east off her Modesty and be wholly animal? So, ndeed,"mav he and she escape for that riour. So indeed may she take to herself an eternal burden. "What then should be her instinct? What would you wish, what would you pray your own child, eo molested, should io? Should she not fight with all her strength, with all her power, mental and physical, to defend her honour? Has not man the right to kill the beast that attacks him? Has not woman the supreme right to kill the beast that attacks her honour? "If, in that tragic and terrible encounter, some weapon falls to her hand, shall ehe next use it against him and to so «ave herself? And if he should die by that weapon, is not the guilt his and his alone? How else shall he and she be judged before God in such a case as this? "You. men born of women; you —men who seek women: you, who have brought into tliis world fair flowers of womanhood, judge this girl as though she were vour own. For, standing there alone, at your mercy, at your disposition, because of the cruel and outrageous act of the man in whom she had trust, ehe becomes now as dependent on you ae any woman ever was dependent on man. "Will you send ber away to waste her youth, her womanhood —that womannood she has so heroically saved from despoliation —will you send her away to death, or to years of imprisonment, because God nerved her arm to protect her divine possession in that fatal hour? "It i* «urely your only duty, your only possible duty, to acquit Doreen Mallory of this charge." Therp wae a stir and movement in the court. In the comparative silence that, for a moment, followed Sir Clement's dramatic speech. Doreen heard the sobbing of women in the crowd. Her eyes rested on her parents. Her mother was unrestrainedly weeping, her father sat motionless, not looking at his daughter or making overtures of comfort to his wife. then, in precise and formal tones, the jrtdgeV voice echoed in deliberate periods through the court. His summing-up was of briefer duration than the speech for the defence which had preceded it He impartially set forth the claims oi justice, deprecated sentiment, deprecated all suggestion of any harsh spirt oi vindictiveness. The jury retired; the judge left the court; Doreen was led away. Hubbub broke out in the crowd of people. "She will get off," said some. 'She'll be found guilty of man slaughter," skid others. The genera

opinion was that she would be acquitted. Popular opinion was in her favour. Each man and woman in the assembly of people judged Doreen and decided the rerdict. Doreen, waiting patiently h: loneliness, knew some tremor of expectancy. The kindly wardress had explained what was now taking place; had told her that she must return again presently to hear the verdict. The dreamlike haze that had ilouded her consciousness after the stimulus of her outburst in the court during Jim's ordeal, mercifully shielded her now. She knew nothing of the criminal's passion of desperate hope and fear. Alone in the cell, she sat with hands linked on her lap and awaited the summons. Her thoughts were not of the trial at all, not of her own weariness and sorrow: her thoughts were of .Tim, In spirit slie was with him: with him in the sunlight in the flowery meadows of her childhood's days. In thought she svas never free from Jim. in. spirit never ibsent from his side. And he. during that hour, waited on the pavement outside the great building in which she was housed; waited, now with empty hands, with no thought of ?ain. The policeman at the door saw him there and recognised him. watched him ivith concealed curiosity. This was the 'hap the girl. Doreen Mallorv. had thrust herself forward to save. This was the ;hap that girl had been said to love. He had made quite a little bit of money out 3f the opportunities afforded by this trial. A big. strong-looking chap. Wanted, cogitated the disciplined officer of the law. a course of good stiff, physical drill. Wanted licking into shape. That and a square feed and a hair cut. There was the making of a splendid-looking man in the chap. Down and out. however. Right on his beam ends. Waiting about here in the street for news. In the court the hubbub died to intense silence. The jury were coming back; they filed into the jury box. The judge returned. The slight figure of Doreen Mallorv appeared again in the dock. Again formality. Again the lip service to ceremony. '"'Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, ar( you agreed upon your verdict?''

"Yes. Not guilty." Instantly, despite the fear of that stern-faced automaton in the judge's robes, pandemonium broke forth. A man at the back sprang up and cheered, everywhere there was applause. Mrs. Mallory, who until now had been almost distraught, was galvanised into life. She jumped to her feet, held out her arms to Dorecn, called her name in shrill eager accents. Tom. glowing with joy. restrained his wife; a thunderous voice quelled the tumult. Doreen, bewildered, looked about her with frightened gaze. She was still ,at a loss. when, presently, she was: led down from the dock and handed to her mother.

ivlio engulfed her in wide flung arms, fom, nearly crying himself, patted and stroked his girl, talked to her insistently. "That's all over. Now you can come home with your mother and dad. We'll soon forget all this. We'll soon put all this behind us " Lord Scotley approached. The picture of the young sprig of nobility ("the murdered man's friend") shaking hands with his chauffeur was included in the evening papers' high-flown account of the case. '■ Her ladyship couldn't stand the court," he said to Tom. "But she intends coming round to see you early this evening. I should get off as quickly as possible. Someone will show you out by a side door or something. There's a crowd waiting for you." "What's that for?" Tom demanded. "To cheer, I expect. It's a popular verdict." "It's the only verdict, my lord." "Very well. I'm sure I'm delighted it's all straightened out." "Sir Clement Douglas-Braine made a fine speech, my lord. He put the whole thing in the 'ght light " "Think so?" Tom held his peace. Again he had to remind himself that young Murray had been a friend of his lordship's, and that it was his lordship who was standing the costs of the case. From what he had heard of the fees paid to eminent counsel. Lord Scotley wo-.ild be very much out of pocket over it. "A right down good chap he is, lord or no," Tom told himself. "A sportsman." From the crowd, unseen by the eyes of the girl who loved him, Jim, the outcast. the innocent victim of fate, watched Doreen driven away in the Earl of Scot-1 ley's private car. heard the crowd cheer 1 her progress: read in the evening paper the fulsome flattery, the descriptions of the bearing, the beauty, the irreproachable character of the accused, and asked himself, but without rrneour, whywhy—should be thus honoured and applauded when she. despite the verdict, was a self-confessed murderess, and he, who had nothi?.g whatever to do with the crime, should be thus homeless, hungry and outcast? (To be continued daily.)