THE FIRST LAW

Evening Star, Issue 19797, 22 February 1928, Page 11

THE FIRST LAW

By C. C. Andrews

A Dramatic Serial

Murgntroyd,’ etc.)

CHAPTER IV. CONVICT 217. The two men stood facing each other. Peggy had dashed out as sho had dashed in; her excited voice rang shrilly back ns she called lor Alison. A wordless ejaculation broke from Gilbert Foliott —ho made a movement ns if to take the other by the throat. “The convict! 1 ' he cried hoarsely. “The runaway convict! Here S' Why —why, then, you ” Clitheroe stepped back. “Am Evcrard T'oliott, cousin. As I was about to give you proof. Convict? Pooh! What have, wo to do with that unlucky wretch? That he should be at Llansladrone is, on the face of it, impossible. Hut the proof—allow me!’’ He drew out the dagger-head. The blue and red and green lives of the jewels that encrusted it Hashed into the livid face that looked. He turned it in his hand and made them Hash more.

“My knowledge of such (.lungs is small,” he said coolly. “ But this, 1 should imagine, is in its way a curio. And, as 1 said, easily recognised, once seen. An heirloom, possibly. Broken, you will notice. 1 should doubt whether the blade will be recovered, although there are at any rate two men who know where to lind it. A convincing proof of identity, cousin! You can perceive as much?” His own heart was thumping heavily, the chill of terror was gripping him, but even at this desperate pass his strength of will held firm; he could that shivering face of helpless rage and fear. Speak? No, Gilbert would never dare to speak. And let him, Clitheroe, but succeed in keeping out of the warder’s sight, and ho would pluck safety out of this peril yet. What had brought them—what had brought them? He slipped the daggerhead out of sight swiftly as Alison Romavno came quickly into the room. “Oli, you are here, Gilbert! Advancing with greeting hand extended, she stopped, as well she might. “ Why, what’s the matter?” Her eves went to Clitheroe. He was ready—lie made a slight gesture of depreciation. . . ‘‘lt appears that you were right, since you ask, Miss Pomayne, he said quietly. “My cousin does not welcome me to Llandsladrone.’ The words could not have been better said. A quick frown drew Alisons straight brows together. “1 am sorry, Gilbert, she said. _ i hoped, when things came to the point, that von would he more generous; and, to speak frankly, more sensible. As you know, we all did.” Her tone was openlv displeased and reproacht.il. Never, in the last three years, had she stood in the least upon ceremony with Gilbert; had they been brother and sister her treatment of him, probably, would have been much the same. At another time her quick observation would have perceived m Ins ghastly late there was something move than the anger and chagrin she had eaied to see. Now she turned to Clitheroe, ignoring him. „ . '’•‘Did Peggy tell yon? I hey have found that poor wretch who escaped from Prince Town.” “Found him! hound Inin .' The hoarse ejaculation was Gilbert s. Clitheroe laughed. “1 understood that they were cominn- her© to look for him! I’liat the civil guard was at the door saying that he wgs here.” “Did Peggy say so? How absurd! Here! But just 'like the little goose to hear six words and make up sixty. It seems that they found him—it is the same party of warders who passed on the road when we were in the don, you remember. It seems that they found him in the old quarry.’ “ Not the old quarry that i passed last night? \cs? Is ho hurt? asked Clitheroe coolly. ‘ “Hurt? He is dead, poor fellow! She shivered; the rich apricot-tinted bloom of her cheeks had paled a little; svmpathy with any suffering strong in Alison Romayne. “That is why thev have come boro—the warders—it 'is the nearest place, yon sec. They want to leave the body while a conveyance is fetched from the prison, if yon don’t .object.” “1?” Clitheroe checked the involuntary ejaculation, with it strangled that passing tendency towards laughter that again assailed him. Everard Folicit was master of Llansladrone—from whom else should permission ho asked to do this thing? He advanced to the door, paused there. “By all means, of course. But perhaps, as I know nothing of the house, am so entirely a stranger here ” “ Colonel Strickland is speaking to the men. They arc at the door of the side hall,” said Alison. The side hall had been but dimly lighted by narrow slits of windows. If he kept in the shadow and his face cut of view. Pooh! The warders had the man, dead. They would not look for the man living. Clitheroe followed her, knowing that Gilbert in turn had followed him.

In the low porch a couple ol' uniformed men were speaking to the colonel. Outside more men were standing round something low upon the ground; they had improvised a litter of some kind, it seemed. The colonel turned about.

“ You don’t object to this, of course, Foliott? No; was sure you would not. It will only be for a few hours; they will bring a conveyance as soon as may be. 1 should suggest the gunroom as about the best place. Straight down that passage there, you sec, and out of the way of the servants and so on. Wo don’t want to have any of the women shrieking in fits, ch?” “By no means. If you will be kind enough to give any orders you please, Colonel Strickland ”

Of course, my dear fellow. Tins way, men.” He went down the passage he had indicated, opened a door and returned. The warders stooped to the litter and took it up; a covering had been brought from somewhere; the still thing they carried lay shrouded from view. Alison drew back to Olitheroe's side as they passed her; she had grown pale. Peggy had appeared, scared and round-eyed, and the massive figure of the maid Dorcas Wade towered behind her. The Colonel turned to her.

“ Miss Foliott is still in her silling room, Dorcas?” “Yes, sir. Sister Theodosia is with her; she came a few minutes ago.”

“So much the better. She had best be told nothing of this, f think, it would only ' worry and might alarm her.”

“Quite so,'sir; I’ll be careful to say nothing. Indeed, I stopped Miss Peggy from doing so.” “Quito right. Mind you hold your tongue, little lady.” Ho looked at Alison, “\o need to trouble anyone as nervous as your aunt, you know, my dear.” Flo followed the men -towards the gun room. A- faint expression of humor that appealed upon Alison’s face attracted Chilheroe s attention, and he looked a question. She halfsmiled.

(Author of ‘ Hcggar My Lady, 1 ‘His Hour,’ ‘The House of

“in point of fact,” she said, her voice lowered to a. whisper, “ there could not be a woman less nervous than Aunt Camilla, as you will learn when you know her. Hut nothing would ever make the Colonel believe it. 1 suppose because nervousness and timidity were favorite feminine virtues when ho was young.” “Must sho therefore possess them?” “Yes. And every other perfection —for him.” She made a half-im-patient gesture. “ Perhaps I ought not to have said that—so soon. Hut it is only betraying what he never thinks of concealing, alter Till. It dates back from the tinm when they were both young people. She is young still—to him.”

“ I think 1 understand. May 1 ask who is Sister—was it Theodora?” • “Theodosia. She is Mother Superior of St. Cuthbcrt’s Abbey. It is an Augustiuiau convent, and stands on Hie bill at the back of the village—a lovely place. Von might have noticed it ns we drove by.” “ I'm afraid not.” Clitheroe hesitated, but oven this piece of information might be of use. “ Miss—my Aunt Camilla is not a Catholic?”

“Certainly. Did yon not know? But I forget; how should you? Yes; she became a Catholic when she was quite a girl—the first of the family to do it, I'believe. I fancy Mr Foliott never quite forgave her. He was a very staunch Churchman.”

The men had deposited their burden and were coming back: none of them even glanced at Clitheroe as they tramped out into the porch again. He looked across and met the furious, terrified eyes that glared at him from Gilbert’s white face,_ and smiled as he carelessly slipped his hand into the. pocket where the dagger-head lay—a significant gesture. The Colonel, following with their loader, halted at the door.

“The man was killed by the fall, ol course,” ho said. “At once, should yon say?” “Instantly, sir. Must have been. Neck was broken. It’s a drop, good, of seventy feet. Must have pitched full oir his face, evidently. The flints have cut it all to pieces.” “Poor wretch ! Well, he reaped what ho has sown, 1 suppose. Mas ho young?” , “ About four-and-thirtv, 1 believe, sir. Was in for seven years —had served Tour.” “ Ah! He had belter have served the rest of it! Number *247, I think, yon said. What was his name?” “ 947—yes. sir—that was his tally. Name was ATi los Clitheroe.” “ Dorcas! Why, what’s the matter?” cried Peggy in shrill surprise. The sudden sound behind her had not been a gasp or a scream or a word—it had seemed like all three hoarsely gasped together. As it broke from the lips of Dorcas Wade she staggered, and Clitheroe, turning, caught and supported the heavy figure as it swayed. For a moment only. The next the woman, with a mutter of excuse and apology, had freed herself and stood erect;’ walking with her usual swinging strength of pace she crossed to the passage leading to the servants’ quarters and vanished down it. Peggy stared at Alison. “Faint?” she ejaculated. Mas that what she said? Dorcas faint? ■Well. 1 should have thought she couldn’t have been if she tried!” Alison did not reply. The colonel had not appeared to notice; lie was dismissing his warders in the porch. _ Gilbert, turning on his heel, had vanished through an archway that led to the staircase. Miss Pomayno. looker! at Clitheroe. “ I must go and speak to Aunt Camilla.” she’said. “She knows nothing of your appearance yet, yon know. But there may be some time to wait. I may not intrude while Sister Theodosia is there, even for anything so important as this. Yon arc looking quite done up; no wonder! Don’t you think yon would he wise to rest a little? Ob', I’m not going to suggest anything so impossible as lied at 11 o’clock in the morning, but if you were to lie down in the library perhaps you could sleep.” But Cliftheroe, when presently he found himself alone in the library— Colonel Strickland having ridden away to Black Watch House, declaring that Monique would ho wondering what had become of him—also found that he was not in the least in the mood for sleep, let his fatigue clamor as it might. Sleep? Time enough for that when far away from Llansladrone, in safety, he could shed this skin of dead Everard Foliott, in which he crouched for refuge. Some wine been brought in response to a suggestion from Alison; ho drank a glass and fell to pacing softly to and fro in the great room. Surelv now there was not much danger. 'Ho had hut to devise some plausible pretext for leaving the house. Which should surely he an easy thing for its master to do! Better wait, though, until the body—the body of convict 247—was removed to the prison. No, there could not ho much danger: his freedom was sure, sure! As for Gilbert

Gilbert! He stopped short in his pacing—pacing as he had been wont to pace his prison cell. Why had Gilbert stolen away so secretly and suddenly? Where was he now? What doing? His hand closed upon the dagger-head as it lay in that inner pocket. If Gilbert —desperately daring, ns well ho might in his desperate plight—if Gilbert went to the body, and succeeded in removing the blade, what then? _ In the most frantic energy' of his plight he had moved with no greater speed than that which now took him to the gun-room door. The Colonel, in following the warders out. had shut it. and turned to try the handle and make sure that it was fast. And now it stood aiar! Within there was a sound of movement, cautious and stealthy. Clitheme softly pushed it wider, peered, crept in. The blinds were down, and somebody, probably one of the maids, had closed the outside shutters of the windows; the place was almost dark. But there was a figure beside the stark, shrouded thing lying upon the low, narrow table that ran down the middle of the room—a figure that was little more than a shapeless, bending shadow in the gloom. A hand, slowly, slowly, was drawing the cover from the mutilated face. Clitheroe sprang forward and gripped it by the wrist. The next moment his own astonished ejaculations mingled with a half-stran-gled cry of terror. The wrist he had gripped, the wrist he still held, was that of Dorcas Wade, - CHAPTER V. MISS MONIQUE LAMOTTE. In sheer amazement—hia one thought had been ef Gilbert Foliott—Clitheroe let the woman go, and she fell hack against the wall, breathing heavily. Hci strong, large face looker grey; her lips, starting apart with her cry. remained so; she started, speechless. Clitheroe himself recalled his pretended. character, spoke composedly. “Why are you frightened?” he asked.

“I—did not know anyone was'there, ■ i) sir.

“Nor 1.” He paused—expressively “What brought you here?”

“No harm, sir.” Her agitation was passing, sho was drawing her ordinary air of solid, stolid composure about herself as she might have drawn a tangible garment. A resolute woman, this, he instinctively told himself—a woman with the self-control,' strength, and courage of a man. “ I—was interested —curious. I thought f should like to see the poor fellow.” “Indeed? Yon have a rather gruesome taste, Mrs Wade—or should it bo Miss, perhaps? ” “ Airs, sir.”

“ Y'ou have a rather gruesome taste, Mrs Wade, since, as you must have heard the warders say, the face is cut to pieces by the Hints.” A shudder would hardly be repressed; the words recalled the face as he had seen it on the floor of the quarry, a thing dreadful in the pale light of the moon. Hut li replaced the half-removed cover with a steady hand. “ Yon knew the man, perhaps? ” Purposely he made the mie<stinn sharply abrupt. Dorcas Wade looked at him steadily. “1 knew him? Certainly 1 did not, sir.” “No? Vet it seemed to disturb, surprise you a good deni, when you beard his name. And it is hardly a common one—Miles Clitheroe.”

“1 do not know Hie name, sir. To the host of my knowledge 1 never beard it. I—what’s that? Miss Camilla’s step! She is coming 1” Her doe;), full tones rose into a sudden shrillness of alarm; her movement towards the door was as quick as a girl’s, but she was too late, for the entering figure put her aside with a gesture. A woman's figure, clad in a tong trailing dress of black, some floating folds of black, probably lace, about the bead and shoulders. This for the moment was all that Clitheroe could make out in the gloom. She spoke, the tone was singularly level and steady; there was a note of faint surprise, of faint displeasure in it. it was seldom that the voice of Camilla Foliott expressed more.

“\on hero, Dorcas! Why? And what is the reason that the shutters are closed? 1 noticed them from outaide. The blinds drawn, too! M’ho has What is that?”

Miss Foliott stopped. She had seen what lay upon the table. No need to ask what it was—through its wrapping it cried itself aloud. But the white hand which she extended—spectrally white in the semi-darkness—did not shake. Dorcas M’ade came hurriedly between.

“It is nothing. Miss Camilla—nothing! That is—if yon will come away —come to your room ” Her mistress put her aside. "Sometimes you appear to fancy that I am a child still, and yon rny nurse, Dorcas,” she said calmly. “ Don’t be absurd, my good creature. Remember, if you please, that. 1 am growing an old woman, and that yon have become one. 1 asked yon ‘ What is that.?’ But the question is hardly necessary. A dead person, evidently. Who?” Her voice shook no mure than her hand had shaken. Dorcas M’ado made a gesture curiously helpless, curiously desperate, and answered her. “Miss Camilla, it is the man who escaped from Prince Town.”

“The convict! And dead! How? M’hy was he brought here?” “Ho fell into the old quarry, Miss Camilla—his neck was broken by the fail. And ho was brought hero while a conveyance is fetched from the prison—it is the nearest place. Mr Foliott gave permission. And Colonel Strickland desired that you should not bo told.”

“That was quite unnecessary. And Mr Gilbert would have done better to refer the matter to mo. Not that 1 should' have objected, of course. Poor wretch! So ho is dead! A happier fate than recapture, no doubt. Was he a young 'man? Did you hear his name?” “.Miss Camilla! No—no!” Dorcac Wade cried. Miss Foliott had moved forward—had stretched out her,baud to—almost touched—the covering that hid the dead face. The other flung herself between, her arms about her—dragged her back.

“Miss Camilla—no! Don’t look—don’t look! He is disfigured, horribly! The warders said so. The flints ” “Ah, 1 iindcistaiid! Then it is better not. i want yon, Dorcas. ’ Sister Theodosia Who is this?” .In releasing herself—without the least show of haste or emotion—site had caught sight- of Clitheroe. He came a pace forward-—he had been waiting—ready for this.

“May I say that it you could see me } hope you would not, Aunt Camilla? That is—il Miss Romaync has told you of my arrival.” ’ " , “ Everard I Is it you! Yes; Alison told me. But I understand that you were resting— sleeping. Come out into the light; I. cannot see you here. But just—welcome to J.latisladronc!” • A white hand was extended from among the enfolding black; it lay linn and chill in his; the tone was no warmer. Peggy had been right, Clitheroe thought rapidly, recalling the child’s chatter in the glen—Camilla Foliott had but a cold welcome for her nephew. She made a movement towards the door, watched Dorcas Wade go out, went out herself, and he followed her. What wood she say, what do, when she saw him in the light? This surely was the last snare through which he had to I’cei his way. .Not until they reach the great room in which he had waited just did she pause, and, looking at him in the brilliant sunshine that poured through a huge buy window, gave him his first chance of looking at her. A woman of not less than fifty-live, she might, even in the sunshine, have passed for almost fifteen years younger, so smooth washer handsome face, so untouched with grey her close, thick bands of flaxen hair, so bright her steady, calm blue eyes. The scarf of black lace that covered her head had a curiously nunlike effect, in summer this wrap, which, indoors and out, she almost always wore, was generally white, as her gowns were usually violet or grey; but since the death of the old squire, her father, nine months before, she had never worn any color. Her lips relaxed into a faint smile.

“1 cannot say that yon are like the Foliotts, Everard."’ “It appears not. 1 have heard already that my unfortunate complexion is almost enough to disinherit me,” said Clitheroe.

“From Alison! Uli! Peggy, was it? Yes, I believe you are the first darkskinned Foliott. Your father was even fairer than most of ns. No doubt yon resemble your mother. All, here is Alison! 1 will leave you in her bands, I think. Alison, I hope you intend to remain for the day? I beg your pardon, Evcrard. I am forgetting that il is now for you to invite Miss Pomayne.” 'fbe faint smile relaxed her lips again. With no other expression o) pleasure, care, or interest whatever she turned and glided out of the, room, her hands loosely clasped before her, her head drooping a little under its black covering of lace. Alison had come up outside (he great window. Half ruefully her blown eyes met Clitheroe’s as she stepped into the room. With the impulsiveness that sometimes characterised her, she spoke at once. “ YAii must not think anything ol it,” she said. “ It is Aunt Camilla’s way.” .“With everybody?” asked Clitheroe quietly. Yes, that is just it, with everybody. Even me, of whom she is so fond, if she is fond of anybody.” She paused. “ Don’t think I want to disparage her. As I said a little while ago, 1 am only telling yon what you must soon find out.” She paused again. ■“ I suppose the capacity for caring—levins—is like, say, a singing voice* nomo

people are as uterly "without the one as with the other. Rather odd, isn t it, to think that there are two people utterly, passionately devoted to her ?” ‘•Colonel Strickland ? “ And Dorcas Wade.” Her tone changed. “I’m afraid you Slave not rested. Do you intend to try? it so, please say so, and "NV hy* there s Monique!” “Monique?” “ Monique JjUiiiotte, Colonel btriCKlancl’b niece, you know. Hcr t lather was French, of course,” She muguea —r-the tone rather an odd one. “ I lease don’t vanish. I’m sure she has come to see you. Exactly as I should probably have done in her place.’ A girl was crossing the stretch oi lawn beyond the window, slowly approaching it. Chtheroe, looking at her, knew that his eyes widened us involuntarily as his breath quickened. Ho had looked many times at the lace of Alison Komayne before the realisation of her beauty dawned upon him; to look at the face of Monique Lamptte was to bo struck by her loveliness as by a blow. Vet, she was too tall, too pale, too thin, her grey-green eyes were too large for her small face and set too widely apart; against the ivory pallor of her skin, her lips were,| too vividly scarlet; her eyebrows and',her heavy hair too densely black j her nose was too small, her chin too heavy.(.Despite all which drawbacks the loveln ness remained a thing triumphant and conquering. From the tips of her pointed shoes to the crown of .her elaborately simple hat her dress :was dainty perfection—the perfection of the Frenchwoman. Waiting for no words of introduction from Alison she held out a slim, long hand to Chtheroe. Her smile came slowly. “ Let me welcome you to Llansladronc. Mr Foliott.” The grey-green eyes looked him up and clown; never had there been an hour in the life of Miss Lamotte when she had been shy. “My uncle is good at description—l should have recognised you easily; but he is right in saying that you are by no means the recognised type of Foliott. f wish, yon know, that yon had postponed your arrival for a little while!” “Really?” said Chtheroe. He was a little taken aback. Miss Lamotte nodded. “Really,” she affirmed, and taintly laughed. “My dear Alison, why stare? T mean it. Two sensations at once mean that one #njoys neither properly. If Mr Foliott had appeared next week we should have had time to revel to the full in the affair of the convict. Have you seen him? No? How you miss your chances! .Mr Foliott, you must really take mo to the gnu room presently. Refore my uncle comes to fetch me; ho declares my tastes are morbid, fs it really the fact that he was found in fhc quarry with his neck broken? Yes? I have boon cross-questioning Gilbert, and he won’t tell me anything. Not even whether they will hold an inquest in the prison. Perhaps he doesn't know. Do yon? What was the man’s name? Did’the warders say? Had he murdered anybody. 1 wonder? V hy, there comes Mr Clyde!” Her voice had run on ns limpidly, levolly sweet as a of water, pausing for no replies; Gilbert had followed her, but she had not glanced at him even when she spoke his name—it flashed across Clitheroe’s mind that she might have mentioned a pet dog—or a dog not petted—in much such a fashion. Now, as she passed cm further into the room and sank down into a chair, Adrian Clyde came up to the window, his long cleri-cal-looking coat living open, his fair, thin hair ruffled, his hat carried in his hand. Peggy, close behind him, entered the room, and, flopping down on the rug, dragged her pet Pedro to sit beside her. Clyde looked at Alison. “ I heard at the Crooked Cot that I should probably find you still here, Miss llomayne. 1 have come to heg your assistance. We are in a quandary at the hospital. Nurse Bayley has one of her worst sick headaches. You know how utterly they prostrate her when they do come on. Will you lend ns your maid Fletcher to take her place until this evening? There is business that 1 am absolutely foi’ced t.o attend to-day, and Nurse Evans, of course, is employed with the lever patients. There is literally no one whom I can leave with that poor girl.” “Of course,” said Alison quickly. “Take Fletcher, by all means. You should not have wasted time in coming hero to ask me. She is no better?” “The girl? Not in tlio least—rather worse, Oliver thinks —still raving, and her fever is frightfully high. 1 doubt if she has the stamina to battle against it! as I told you, she is but a frail little wisp of a creature. She must have had a frightful shock. If I could only discover who she is and how she came to be upon the 'inoor ” “A girl? Upon the moor? Wbat girl?” The interruption, roughly sudden and sharp, came from Gilbert. He swung round from his position beside Monique Lamottc’s chair. Chocked, Clyde stared at him. •“ A girl .1 found on the moor last night,” he- said shortly. “Last night? Where?” “Near the old quarry. She rushed shrieking out of the bushes and dropped in front of the car in a lit. Has-been raving in high fever ever since. Whether she saw the convict ” “And is dying? You mean she will doe ?” '

“ I don’t, know that. Hut I very much fear——” “She hasn’t come to her senses? You don’t know who she is? I’ou’vo no clue?”

“About her, you mean? None whatever. Hut ”

A second interruption came fiom Peggy. With a loud ejaculation she scrambled to her feet.

“Pro got it!” she cried cngcrlv “ Yes, I’ve discovered it at last 1’ 5 Plashed and excited, she pointed at Clithcroc. “ 1 was puzzled the minute [ saw you! Wasn’t J, Alison? I said s so, didn't I ? When yon were telling Aunt Camilla that lie wasn’t a bit The a Poliott? I was.sure your face wasn’t really strange! But f. couldn’t, think — I couldn't remember. But I'm positive now—positive! Aren't you, Alison—look at him! 1 know where I’ve seen you be lore!” (To bo continued.')