CHAPTER XXII. THE DAGGER.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 161, 17 July 1886, Page 8

CHAPTER XXII. THE DAGGER.

"Tins procedure is by no means legal," said Clarence, in a low, clear tone that could be heard all over the room, "but so great i 3 ray anxiety to aid justice that I am more than willing that Or Berhford shall hare tho case and its contents brought here." Thi3, with Clarence's handsome person and frank, foarles." bearing, created a favourable impression in minds by no means well dippo=ied ( towards him. Dr. Berisford left the witness-stand ; and ! Clarence, to the intense satisfaction of the morbidly curious people, was called up and sworn, and the coroner began in this fashion : I il Mr Ashworth, did you know John Penfield, the deceased ?" " No, but I knew of him." "Then you had no acquaintance with him ? ' "No personal acquaintance." " Where did you first meet him ?" " I first saw him in this village." "Did you ever talk with him ?" "Yeq." " What about ?" ' ' The man had annoyed me and exhausted my patience by following me whenever I left the Berisford house, where I was stopping as a guest. One day he followed me to the Hanging Rock, and then I called him to account, He was insolent, and I knocked him down." " What followed ?" *' He tried to shoot me, and would hjare done so but for the timely interference of * friend."

" Who was that friend?" "Mr Duke." "You mean The Jooke?" t4 Perhaps so." " Did you meet John Penfield after that encounter ?" "No." " Did you ever see him again ?" " Never ! I ieft soon afterwards for Philadelphia, and returned only a few days ago." " Whore were you 'v t, 1 ; b > >C 3 last V " At Berisford Manor." " When did yo» leave there." " At five o'clock in the morning." " Why 'iid you leave?" "I was going out hunting and wantedan early start." " Where did you spend last night ? "With a friend in the mountains." " What, is that friend's name ?" " You know him as The Jooke." " When did you hear of the death of John Pcntield ?" " Last night." 11 How did the news reach you ?" " Through a coloured man named Jim, whom my friend had sent to Berisford Manor to explain why I could not get back laft night?" '* Why did you not return when you heard the news." " Why should I return when I heard the news ? I i egretted the man's taking off, but I pee no reason why I should hasten in to expiees my *»onow," said Clarence, with unmif takuble indignation in his voice. The coroner was saved the perplexity of answering this question by the entrance of Dr. Borisford and Hans Munn, the latter carrying the box containing the dagger. This box was placed on the desk before the coroner, and on it every gaze in the room was instantly focuped. ** Is this box yours, Mr Ashworth ?" "Jtia." " It is the box referred to by Doctor BeriHford ?" " It is the box I showed Doctor Borisford last Tuesday night." " Can you op6n it ?" " 1 can." " Will you do so ?" " Yea, if you desire it " "I do desite it," coughed the coroner, confused by the coolness and dignity of the witnefs. Clarence took a ring, that held some keys, fiom b>H pocket, and selecting a very small one, ho unlocked the casket and opened the lid. "I see nothing in hei'e," paid the coroner tilting the box, so that the people could see he was not mistaken " Yet the dagger is in that box," said Clarence, " Where?" "!na drawer." *' Will you please to open that drawer?" Cluience touched a spring, and a bar flew back, repealing a little flat drawer, the handle of which was a golden tiger-head, with emeralds for eyes. "Pleuae to take out the weapon," said the coroner, his tremulous vcice showing his great agitation. (Jlatonce opened the drawer, took the dagger by the hilt, and held it up before the people. Almighty ga c p from the excited crowd j then one man cried out : " My (iod ! it is covered with blood." Clarence gave a quick glance at the triangular blade. It was even as the man had said. There were red stains between the blades, that were so bright when he last beheld them ; and seeing this the weapon fell from his nerveless grasp and went ringintr to the floor. With ashy face and staring eyes he dropped into his chair, and again an awful hu«h came upon the people. Hans Munn picked the dagger up and laid it in the box ; an act that in part restored the coroner to his senses. "Mr Ashworth," he said, sternly, " wa? that the colour of the biade when you last saw it ?" "No .it was then clean and bright*" The coroner held up the dagger. " It is red now ?" "It is.*' " What causes the discoloration ?" "It looks like blood." " How came it there ?" •' I know not." " Had any person but you access to the weapon V Clarence was about to reply, " Yes," but he suddenly chocked himsef and remained silent. "I asked," repeated the coroner, " if any person but you had access to that box?" " And I refuse to answer." " Why do you refuse ?" " I decline to give my leason." " 1 must believe, then, that you refuse to ansu or bocauso you do not wish to criminate yourself." " You are at liberty to believe what you like, but let me say, that in the full consciousness of my own innocence, the fear of criminating myself does not deter me from answering," s.iid Clarence, with his feelings aeain under perfect control. " I think we have examined all the witnesees, I mupt. now requeat that the room be cleared, and the jury be left to theii deliburations, " faid the coroner. Hans Munn, on hearing this, came forward to take the box ; but the coroner said : " Leave that-. ; I shall turn it over to the State." " You shall do nothing of the kind with' out a due warrant, or at least without asking mv consent," said "Clarence, firmly. "] am willing to assist you in the investigation, and while I cannot prevent your conducting it in violation of all tho rules ol evidence, I am determined that you shall respect nay rights." "Then iebme beg you to leave this bos with me for the present." said the coroner, convinced that he could not hold it at this time without the owner's consent. To this Clarence agreed, though he positively refused to give up the key. Slowly the people filled out of the schoolroom, all convinced that Willowemoc had never before been the theatre of such a dramatic econo as that they had just witnefsed. Clarenco wont out after the doctor and Hans Munn, and when he reached the open air his friend, the hermit, took hie arm and led him beyond the hearing of the buzzing crowd. " Clarence," he began, " some one besides yourself has had access to that box." •'So it would seem," said Clarence, ab stractedly. "You know who that person is." " Did I say so ?" "You do not need to say so. You know who that person is, and let me say, that te save yourself you should hasten to make the fact public " "If my suspicions be correct," replied Clarence, " I would not make them public, no, not if it were to save myself froir death » "What! Merciful powers? Can it be — can it be that the impulse to homicide still moves in the veins of< the last 'of tht BerMoids ?" With these -words the hermit turned quickly away, and waa lost amid the surg ing crowd. Feeling that he was under a cloud, anc fully aware of his inability to dispel it Clarence returned to the Manor.

News of the second mysterious murder at Willowemoe had been telegraphed all over the land, and by scores detectives, newspaper correspondents! and excitement seekers flocked from all points to the village. Wilson Bly heard the news the day before, and at once started for Willowemoe. f He bad never approved of his partner's methods, but now that he was dead he thought better of them and forced himself to believe, for the time, that John Penfield was entirely right and himself entirely wrong. Wilson Bly waB an earnestand critical listener to all the evidence that had been given that morning, and particularly to Clarence A 8h worth's, He went out with the crowd, and on the way to the hotel he was joined by Shirley Benson. "Well, Wilson," said the latter, with that familiarity which he used towards people whom he thought his inferiors, " have you heard the evidence thia morning?" "I have." " And what do you think of it ?" " Well, if I were inclined to answer that question honestly, it would take me a long time to do it ; and as I got no sleep last night) I am too tired to make an effort." " I say, Wilson"— here Shirley took the detective's arm and escorted him into the hotel — "let us go to your room. I'll order up a bottle of the best wine, and we can smoke and have a good chat." As Wilson Bly offered no objection to this programme, it was ab once carried out The wine and cigars were forthcoming, the room was securely locked, and after drinking to each other's "good health," Shirley pitched the key at which he thought it prudent to speak by saying in a whisper: "Things begin to look black for Ashworth." •'You think so?" " Why, Wilson, do you doubt what every one, high and low, believes a8 firmly as that the sun shines out there ?" " I do not care to express my own opinion just at this time, Shirley ; you see, the truth is, you know a great deal -more about thia case than myself, and I'm going to lean on you pretty heavy, for I want you to help mo." "I think I can do it," said Shirley, flattered by the detective's confidence. " You believe that you could go right out and lay your hands on the man who perpetrated both these murders ?" " I certainly do, Wilson."' " And you are sure that man is Clarence Ashwoith ?" " As sure as that I am a living man." " What motive coiild he have had for killing John Penfield ?" " Because he hated him." " Men do not kill those whom they dislike, otherwise there would be no men in the world. You must find a better reason." " I don't agree vrith you in your last statement, but I have another reason that will suit you better." "It is tha L . you hate Ashworth and believe him a bad man " "I hate him and believe him bad, bub I am too broad-minded to let such things prejudice my judgment," said Shirley, loftily. "The truth is that Clarence Ashworth saw what wa? coming, and he decided to put John oat of the way." " What did he see coming ?" " The world's knowledge ot his own guilt. John Penfieid consulted with me at every step—" " More fool, John." " Perhaps so— " {< Yes, Shirley, a detective should not tell his purposo even to his wiie — until he has accomplished it." "I am not discussing the obsolete methods of the profession," said Shirley, with an effort at sarcasm. " I simply want to tell you that I was in John Penfield'a confidence.' " And I am giving you my time, ShMay, that you may prove tome just what the confidence amounted to. Come, don't get huffy, my lad. I know you can be of great service, and I want you to pull with me." This sptech and another glass of wine had a soothing influence on Shirley, who at once proceeded to tell all he knew about the case ; and where facts failed him he did not hesitate to draw on his imagination.