THE FIRST LAW

Evening Star, Issue 19791, 15 February 1928, Page 11

THE FIRST LAW

By C. C. Andrews (Author of ‘ Beggar My Lady, 1 ‘His Hour,' ‘The House of Murgatroyd,’ etc.)

CHATTER 1. A CHANGE OF CLOTHING. The cry of a night-bird, piercing and shrill, as it whirled suddenly tip from a clump of bracken, startled Clitheroe staggering to nis feet—sent him forward belore ho could collect hismclf at a weak, aimless, stumbling run. A tussock ol coarse grass caught his foot. Cheeked, he pulled up, remembered, looked about him. The huge, silent vastness of the moor stretched under a high, round moon; in the purple dome ol the sky, that seemed to close upon him like a cup, stars were glittering. Had he, in Urn hollow among the gorse hushes where he had dropped exhausted, 1 alien asleep ? Surely—yes, since then it had not been dark. Well, there were tales that men had slept upon the rack. Why should not he, straining his cars for the sound ol tramping leei, the mob, the shouted command to surrender from which he had in fancy lied blindly a dozen times in the past dozen hours, do as mneli? And, added to the gripping hunger that tortured him, there was the pain and throbbing of the bruised head he hail .struck that Lime he fell.

Since Ids desperate lligbt of the morning, made when that sudden uproar of oaths and blows had broken out in the quarry gang, lie must have covered many miles, lint ho would be tracked, of course, taken, dragged back, unless He set his strong jaw and 'laughed, a tiling be bad not forgotten bow to do. Life—the last four infernal years especially—bad taught him many tilings, but none mure surely Ilian the lesson that there arc times when, if a man do not laugh, bo must needs run mad or die.

“I'll lake a bullet through my head lirst!” bo said.

His eyes had followed a path—little, more than a sheep track—some fifty yards away. He limped across 1o it, turned into it, tramped doggedly on with dragging feet. If ho had lost hi;, sense of locality, had not doubled on bis tracks, Oakbamplon must lie this nay. Hut first.—food and clothes —clothes and lood! II he could but come upon a shepherd's hut, and He cried out. So near to his lect did the great chasm suddenly gape, so draped with terns and grasses near its treacherous lip, that with another step he must have plunged headlong, and it was only with a violent recoil of his whole body that lie saved himscll. With heart thudding and breath quick he stood staring down the sheer drop of some seventy lect to the shelving layers of razor-edged Hint and ironstone that would have dashed his lile out. A little to the right a sort ol pathway wound through a hush growth of green to the margin of a pool that layout the bottom of the quarry. The moon was bright upon it, bright upon—■ — “Good heavens! ’ he cried.^ His impulse to lly—the terrified, icasouless impulse of the hunted—passed as it rose. He was down on his knees peering over the edge at the huddled sometlung lying upon’ the slope above tlie pool. A tumbled heap ol clothes. Something more. A man asleep? Nq sleeper ever lay in the twisted, contorted attitude of this sprawled figure—as though a giant hand had crumpled and flung it away as a child’tosses a broken tov Death was hero! In a moment, clinging, slipping, Clitheroe was making bis difficult way down the path. Sinai! need to touch the flaccid baud; sufficient to note the lashion in which the head was twisted over the shoulder. As he himself had so nearly done, the man had fallen from above, and doing so had broken his neck : For perhaps a minute the shock and horror of the tiling held him, then the realisation of all that this meant ran through his (lagging blood like a flame. Succor— escape—salvation lay here at his feet for the taking. These clothes would replace marked with the broad arrow. About them would he the. money to buy food —pay train Hue. But to rob a dead man? Hah! Ibe man was dead, and this was no tune to be squeamish. Glancing round ho saw something not yet not iced that a yard or two lover clown the slope lay a portmanteau —another piece oi nick, that—a. welcome addition to the disguise that would he his directlK. Beside the liodv lav a long overcoat—evidently it had been carried, not worn. Drawing it away, be turned the bead, and stopped with a voluntary shuddci. “Face cut literally to pieces, poor wretch! qiuite as well that he vas killed outright. Wed, it's a pretty nrdv job, but .-(ill ” 'He' broke off. started to bis loot, stood listening with galloping heart to the sound that, springing suddenly out of the dead silence of the moor, drew nearer upon the path above, bootsteps! But not the measured tramp of many men. '(his was the hurried Bead of one. Clilheroc’s swilt thought—the natural conclusion that the dead man must have had a companion—that he was returning from a _ fruitless search for help—was not. swiltcr than his movement as he sprang away. Crouehiim behind a thick clump of blackberry hrTar be watched, listened. The steps slackened, halted. A figure appeared at the head of the path—began to descend it. Was the man alone? Mould a sudden spring, a dcltly delivered blow, suffice to stun him? A wretch in bis desperate plight could not allord to hesitate. He waited, his eyes upon the body as it lay. 'Would the other note that it had been moved? He was close to it beside it. What was be doing? Searching for something. At first quietly, presently mildly, with .ejaculations of agonised impatience and rage, he searched among the broken debris and down to the margin of the pool. Whatever bo sought be failed to find. P.erhaps halt an hour had gone by when, with a groan of what seemed mingled fury and despair, be desisted and stood erect. Then be turned to the body, seemed to fumble with the clothing. Perhaps some fancied sound alarmed him, or he saw the ghastly, mutilated face, for with a hoarse cry of fear or horror ho started up. dashed across to the path, and was climbing up it at a desperate speed. His retreating footsteps died away in the direction whence they had come, and Clitheroe, stiff Irom his'long crouching on hands and knees, stepped out of his hiding. At another time he • might have paused to surmise and wonder. Now the driving necessity of his own safety impelled him—the clothing of the dead must be removed as swiftly as might be. A desperate man is not fastidious, but he turned to the ugly task with shrinking, to presently utter an ejaculation of amazement. “What’s this?” he exclaimed.

Upon tho shirt at the back was a spot of blood—a single spot that might have been covered with a shilling. Clitheroe stared at it; then drew tho garment down, examining tho skin beneath. Between the shoulders was a tiny, red-edged orifice, and protruding from it so slightly that but for passing his fingers across he would hardly have detected it, a small, blunt point of steel. He touched it, finding

A Dramatic Serial

CHAPTER 11. COUSIN EVERARD

it .immovable; considered, and nodded, “ Murder,” lie said aloud'—“ murder! The man was slabbed I'rom behind to I lie heart, hilled instantly, and has bled internally. Was slabbed with such violence that the weapon broke in the murderer’s hand, and remains in the wound. And cither fell over the quarry edge or was pushed over allerwards. Yes—that's pretty plain. And on discovery here’s tlio broken neck as the cansp of death—death by accident. Pretty plain again! Who did it?” Ho half laughed. “ Not mi. a need to ask that I Or what it was that ho was fumbling alter. Doubt if he would have been able to withdraw it, though, even if ho hadn’t suddenly funked it. Infernally clover, but the breaking of the weapon wasn’t in his calculations. Wonder what he was looking for P” He laughed again. “Pooh! What’s that to me? I’ve my own skin to save!”

Yes, he had his own skin to save, and now there swept upon him a nc.v idea that quickened his blood again. IT lie not only .stripped tho dead but replaced his clothing with that which he wore, what then? Tho man was much of his own height., build, shade df complexion, his hands were work decolored. work hardened, like his o\v|j, and his face was a face no longer. Whalt would follow when the body of the rn|Jaway convict was found lying at tie bottom of the quarry? A pcrfunctofy inquest, a perfunctory verdict.—snm|l likelihood that with the .seeming cam<lo of death proclaiming itself at a glance tho true one would bo discovered! a burial within tho prison walls, and an end, so far as Prince Town would kudw i'' Miles Clithcroe, Ho. . And Mill's Clithcroo, if luck attended him. would walk unsuspected, unscarched for, living and free. Ho set to work swiftly. Presently what he had found hi|y there much a.s it had fallen changed, only in the ridden garments that', covered it, and he stood clothed a.s l|c had not been for four years. l|e slipped on the long coat, look up tljo portmanteau, and turned towards the path. And then it was that, like a flash of fire in his eyes, lie saw the glitter. The glitter of something shining from a trailing drapery of leaves close behind the path, about a foot above his head. Me had gripped the creeper, it tore away, the thing fell into his quick hand with a gleam. A glance told him what it was—a cross of gold arabesque, set with jewels red, green, and blue, gaudy and barbaric, A moment’s inspection, and he understood for what the mad search he had witnessed had been made —the thing was the broken-off haft of a dagger or stiletto. He laughed, slipping it into an inner pocket. “ If— ” was his involuntary thought —“ if the handcuffs were not in waiting for my own wrists, J could, 1 fancy, knot the rope round a certain neck with this I ”

He paused and looked'at tlic huddled tnnn upon which the moonlight was bright. There Jay the body of Miles (,'litheroo, convict 247. And here, climbing out of the quarry, went—whop V.’’ ~t was the name of the opened letter at which lie had glanced as he searched through the pockets of the coatP “Everard—Everard Foliott.” A thing to be remembered, this, for the next few hours—to be glib with, should it be Foil ott. lie repeated it more than ouco as bo walked on. At first with good speed, but presently with a tread that lagged and wavered. The moor seemed to heave and sink before his eyes, a deadly sensation of sickness and giddiness made him reel—‘exhausted body and exhausted mind were giving out together. Was that a tramp of feet bo bind him? A cry to halt—surrender' J What,then? lie was Everard Foliott! Miles (tlitheroc lay dead in the qnarrv. Everard Foliott was going to London, hut ho was olf the path I Whore was the path? He started, as it were, awake, broke blindly into a run, stumbled, pitched heavily headlong, and lay insensible,

The moon waned and sunk, llic .slurs dwindled and died; night gave place In dawn, to su n riso. to hroad day, uin I .still tlie uncon,scions nuui lay as lie had fallen. From the .Mimil lower of (lie church ol a certain village hidden in a fold oi the moor 8 o’clock was striking when a girl appeared upon the patli—a sturdy, leggy lass of perhaps fourteen short-skirted, a blue fisherman's cap flung upon her Hying inane of fair hair, a great, lumbering, half-grown mastiff puppy beside her. It saw the prostrate figure, and landing beside it with a lionndering hound of awkward young logs, sniffed at it inquiringly. The girl pulled up with a jerk, drew cautiously nearer, and stopped (o look at the upturned face. It was lividly grey —leaden—and there was a ent and blood on the forehead. Shu screamed. “Oh! I believe lie's dead! I do—l do. 1 AHson—Alison! Oil! conic hero, quick!” she cried. She lain hack to the path and called again in her shrill, carrying young voice. Another voice answered, and a ligiTrc came hurrying up the slope upon u[iou the farther side—a tall girl of perhaps hvc or six-and-twenty, somewhat largely built, deeply brown in eyes and hair, and with a complexion that, warmly while at forehead and throat, deepened in the checks to tho exquisite rich golden pink of the apricot. She was bare-headed, and the, pinafore that covered her linen frock was daubed with paint stains. “ AA’hat on earth are you yelling for, I’egg.y?” she demanded. “.Idas anything bitten you, child?” “Bitten me? The idea! It’s the man!”

“The ina n ! What man?” “How do J know? He’s. lying there. I believe he’s dead, Alison.” “Pooli—dead) Tipsy, must likely.” “ L don’t believe ho is. Ho looks just awful. There’s blood on Ins lane—ugli! \ou go and see if there isn't, il it hadn’t been lor Pedro J shouldn’t have seen him. I say, just suppose somebody has murdered him! Oh!”

Peggy paused in the act of pointing, with round eyes and open mouth, plainly appalled at her own suggestion. Alison did not hear it; .sluThad run across and was down on her knee beside the motionless figure. She touched the cheek, and some of the splendid color ebbed out of her own, for it was clay-cold. Then swiftly sho unbuttoned the clothing and laid her' hand upon the heart; to be squeamish, it seemed, was not her way. An ejaculation of relief escaped her. “ He’s fainted, Peggy. He’s been hurt, 1 suppose.—that cut on his forehead looks like a blow. Perhaps he had a fall. We must bring him round somehow and get him to the chaise.” “What! Take him home with us, do you mean?” Peggy demanded. “Take him to the village, at any rate. What else, child? Run and bring the vacuum flask with the hot cofiee. And tell Mr Glyde to come. It is lucky he is with us. I might not be able to manage alone. Be quick!”-

Peggy darted off. Alison’s eyes turned again to the unconscious face, noting the deep sunburn of the dark skin, the breadth and squareness of forehead and brows, the strength of close month, resolute jaw and chin. Rather a handsome face in a hard way, she decided —obstinate, forceful, grim. That nutter of tho heart was very feeble —d the hot coffee failed to revive him 1 Had he by good luck a flask of brandy i Her deft hands rapidly explored his pockets without success. _• The portmanteau? She turned to it, tumbling out itj contents upon the grass, and discovered one. It was in her hand when Peggy ran up breathless, and the man who followed dropped on his knee at her side. ~ , . , “ What is it? A faint?” ho asked rapidly. “Or stupor—yes. Unscrew we must give him some brandy.’ The hand with which he obediently took the flask was the slighter and smaller of the two; although tall and well enough built, the whole aspect ol Adrian Glydo was one of slenderness, weakness, fragility. His gentle oval face was as smooth as a girl s, Jus hazel eyes as solt. Although ho was barely livc-and-thirty, the hair upon his temples was growing thin already. Both were skilful, but the task was not easy, for the teeth were clenched tight. Only after repeated efforts was the faintest attempt to swallow perceptible. Then came a strengthening of heart heats, a flicker of the eyelids. The girl laid down tho hand she was chafing. “If we can make him drink the coffee,” she began, and broke oil. “There —he is coming to himsell, 1 think!” In the eyes that slowly opened there was a gleam of consciousness; lie stirred,and as the cup was again held to his lips made a voluntary etlort to drink. Glydo passed an arm round his shoulders to raise him, and Alison turned to pick up tho vacuum flask. Doing so she found her arm clutched. Peggyfaced her with round eyes and scarlet cheeks. Breathless with excitement, she nodded towards the dark face whose dark eyes were now regarding her. “ Goodness, Alison —whatever do yon think?” she gasped. “Just fancy! Look there!” “There? Where? What do you mean?”

At tho initials on flic portmanteau — 1 E.F.’—don’t yon see? They’re on tho pocket book, too, and on these letters there’s the whole name half a dozen times. I was picking them up— I didn’t mean to look—hut they were open—l couldn’t help Don’t yon understand? Look! Everard— Evcrard Foliott!”

“Everard Foliott!” Alison gasped in her turn. “Everard ” “Of course! Ho is! He’s Everard Foliott!” cried Peggy. Clithevoc, striving to vai.se himself upon the arm that _ supported him, heard the eager, rapid repetitions of the name—the name that had been upon bis lips at almost the moment of his swooning, and stared confusedly at the three si range faces of man, woman, and girl. Confused only for the moment—his alert brain was quicker to recover its keenness than his body its strength. Everard Foliott? Yes, be was Everard Foliott until lie had escaped, was safe. And this was still the moor, the spot whore bo bad fallen insensible. Hours ago, it was plain. And those people had found, restored him—that was also plain. He had been on the road to—where was it?—Oakhampfon. And had fallen not far from the disused quarry and hurt hi.s head. And afterwards turned queer and fainted. Yes—that was the tale. A little caution would see him through rigid, enough. He made another effort to move, to touch the wound on his forehead. Alison threw down the letters which she bad snatched from Peggy's hand and stared at. and dropped down on her knees again. “Don’t try to talk yet,” she said—“’you’re not (it. Drink tile coffee first; I’il put the rest of ynnr brandy in it. Then between us we’ll help von down to the pony carriage. It’s most lucky that f came out sketching this morning, and luckier still that Peggy chanced to run up here. You might have. lain for hours longer—the path is quite an unfrequented one. I suppose yon fainted from the injury to your head? ft was a fall, no doubt?” She laughed. “Yon know it has simply astounded ns, nil three, to find that you are Everard Foliott!”

She held the nip to Ids lips. Clitlierne drank slowly. His brain worked fast. So she knew the name—they know the name! A complication this! But, plainly, not the man. More than ever was there need for caution and a careful following of any load upon which he could seize. Ho finished drinking—lied composedly. How was it Utat he would have spoken to a girl of this tyne, people of this class, four years ago? AA’as the old manner, the old tone, within his grasp?

“I am certainly Evcrard Eoliott,” lie said, “ and as certainly consider myself most lucky in having been discovered. I’m afraid my head is still a bit muddled. though—l came a cropper not far this side of what seemed to ho ar old quarry some way hack—or I should he quicker at understanding to whom I’m indebted. At present I— I don't exact lv know——”

The pnn.se was interrogative. Peggy hurst into speech. “ AVIm we arc? AA’bv, of course you don't!’’ she. cried. “He can't, can ho, Alison, when tic’s never been in England and we’ve never been in Canada? Make him gnessl Ho— I’ll fell him—l'll be extra-special polite! AA'clconio home, cousin Evcrard !' ’ Her short skirts flew out- round her in a whirling “cheese” as she dropped an elaborate curtsy. Alison pushed her aside with a laugh. “Don’t be such a goose, child,” she said, and looked at Clitlieroc. “In (mint of fact, my consulship to Die Folioti family is of such an extremely complicated and far-off character that 1 doubt if it would really hold water at all.” she said. “And as Peggy is only my half-sister it certainly dwindles absolutely to nothing in her case. I may be more recognisable if T introduce myself in another character, fam Alison Pnmayno, Miss Eoliott’s goddaughter.” “ Alisa Eoliott.” began Clitlieroc, warily. “ A’ou —yon mean ?” “Miss Camilla Eoliott, your aunt, whom, by the way. I always called aunt, too. Not that that, yon know, need cement onr consulship, unless we mutually wish it—cousin!” Then, reading perfectly, as she believed, bis care : fill expressions of doubt and puzzle, she laughed again. “Oh, please, don’t trouble to be polite! I sec yon have never heard of me in your life!”

“ I feel sincerely apologetic. But I’m afraid 1 have not.” “Most unlikely that you should, when one thinks of it. Do you think yon can stand if T and Mr Glyde help yon? ft is so fortunate that we have the pony carriage—yon would never be able to walk to Llansladronc. But if you vest first mid have something to eat T don’t think the drive can hurt you.”

Clitheroe thought he could stand, and so was presently upon his feet, and, leaning upon Clyde’s arm, readied the path. Upon its farther side the ground sloped gently down, and at the bottom of the incline was the pony carriage, and near it stood an easel, sketching block, and stool. Alison’s straw hat lay on the grass, and her palette—she had been disturbed at her painting, evidently, he thought It was well that the descent was slight and the distance short, for even ns it was he stumbled more than once. But though his head spun from sheer weakness and hunger, his mind was dear, his memory ready. He had been in Canada all his life. He was going to, was expected at a place called Llansladronc. Why? This must be discovered. That he must go seemed dear. It ws the quickest way of getting off the moor, of escape from the search parties from the prison which must he scouring it in search of him. Of him? Booh! Ho was Evcrard holioti. The runaway convict was dead in the quarry. This must be

held to for I. ho few necessary hours. Jf he could but pass through them without blundering, arousing suspicion, giving himself away! Getting free afterwards of-—what was it?—Llaiisladronc—would probably be a simple matter enough, it was a desperate game to (day, but a man must save his skin and snatch his chance as it came, given such a plight as was his. What had brought Evcrard Eoliott upon the moor? AVhat was taking him to Llaiisladronc? AA’as there anybody there who knew him? These were questions to which answers must he watched, waited, warily angled for. But the first thing was food, and might he contrive to kep all signs of his wolfish famine within decent limits!

Peggy, cramming into the portmanteau all the things that had been tumbled out of it, had run on ahead, and was hauling a big square covered basket out of the carriage. She spread the contents out on (he grass, and, appropriationg the duty to herself, piled his plate lavishly, to the accompaniment of voluble chatter. What a jolly good thing it was that they hadn't had breakfast before she and Pedro found him! He must be just starved to death after being out on the moor all night, mustn’t he, Alison ?—■mustn’t lie, Mr Glydc? she ran on, and so was far more useful than she had nnv idea of.

She planted herself presently upon a hillock and surveyed him with a considering air. . “ You’re not a hit like what I expected you’d bo, you know, Cousin Evcrard.’ “No?” Clitheroe smiled. “How’s that? ” he asked. “ You’re dark. Why. your hair’s pretty nearly black, isn’t it?” “ .1 suppose it is.” “ And your eyes look ever so much darker than Alison’s.” “Yes. I suppose they are.”

“ Well, I thought all the EolioWs were fair. Aunt Camilla said so, and that she expected you’d ho.”

“Did she?” So Evcrard Eoliott, evidently, was not known fo anybody at Llansladronc! —“I must be an exception.” “Yes, yon must, mustn't you? But I daresay living out, on the prairies and all that has helped to make yon so brown, hasn’t it? Perhaps you’re like your mother.” “ I think I must, be.” “ As she died when yon were so little you can’t remember, of course, but your father might have told yon. Aunt Camilla says that before lie went to Canada he was as fair as she is. But he was only a boy then, wasn’t he? ”

“ Quito a boy. I must hope that I shan’t disagreeably surprise her.” “Aunt Camilla? Oh. she won’t mind what yon look like. I think she’s a bit offender] with yon, if you ask me!” “Oh? I'm sorry. How’s that?”

“Oh. well,” said Peggy with a wriggle. “ f mean because after the cable from Quebec to say when yon were sailing you rover sent her a line. Of course we saw in the paper when the Caledonia 'got in. and ever since then she’s been expecting a wire to say when .von were coming down. Why didn’t you send one? ” (To bo continued).