CHAPTER XXII. " IN THE NAME OF THE COMMONWEALTH,"

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

CHAPTER XXII. " IN THE NAME OF THE COMMONWEALTH,"

About the school-house, in which the coroner's jury were deliberating over their verdict, the people gathered in groups, wonder ing why the men inside should take so long I in coming to a conclusion over a case so clear to the people outside. On the streets crowds of men, with fringes of women and children, were discussing the same subject with a wonderful unanimity of feeling. Since ita present proprietorship, the inn of Willowemoc — it was called " The Anthony Wayne House " — had never done such a business. All the rooms were full ; and, for the first time in its history, cots were borrowed froii a neighbouring boarding-houso and set up in the halls. The bar was packed with a surpassingly thirsty crowd, and the landlord was in a state of exhilarated confusion as he tried to relieve the thirsty and make change for the satisfied at the same time. And all these people in the tavern, like the people about the echoolhouse and on the streets, were discussing the evidence they had heard that morning, and, with a strange fascination, they dwelt upon the dramatic appearance of the bloody dagger. "That gave the case away," said one. "He was a fool not to have wiped it first," said another. " Criminals are never wise till af tor the act," added a third. And so the talk went on. Many said the coroner was an unparalleled fool f»r not having arrested Clarence Ashworth at once. And others excused the act by «aying : "The detectives are -watching the feller, on' thoy can lay their hands on him when* ever they want him." To be sure, there were a few conservative old men who pondered over fche case with maddening caution, and who persisted in believing that while suspicion might point to Clarence Ashworth, there was nothing in the evidence so far to warrant his arrest. Shirley Benson suddenly found himself a very important personage, and his vanity wat tickled accoi'dingly. With that peculiar tendency to find motives for themselves, the village gossips had come to believe that Shirley Benson and Clarence Aehworth were rivals for Miriam's hand, and that in some way this was at the bottom of all the trouble. After his interview with Wilson Bly, Shirley had appeared on the street, where he affected a dignity and reticence which the people anxious to speak with him looked upon as a commendable evidence of prudence. He hurried out to the Manor, and found Madame Barron lying in wait for him in a summer-house near the gate. She called to him and he entered the shaded arbour, and taking a seat by her side, asked : "Where is Ashworth?" " In the house talking with Miriam, 1 believe," Baid the madame, arching her eye-

brows, which looked inky black in contrast with her nearly white hair. " It's a wonder he doesn't try to get away t y "To escape?" " Yes, roadame." " But why should he do so ?" " Why, I thought you heard the news.'* " Only a tantalising indefinite little, that that stupid fellow Hans Munn told me." " Have you not spoken vrith the doo« tor ?" " Not thia morning." " Where is he ?" "In the library. Ah, his face, as he passed me, ehows^hat be is in great agony about something. " " Clarence Ash worth is his kinsman, and ' the old gentleman is crushed by the evidence that goes to show, beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt, that John Penfield, if not the other man, met his death at tha hands of this wretch," said Shirley, with virtuous indignation. "Ob, tell me all about it!" cried the madame. " I shall be afraid to stay in tha • house if that man is not taken away. And ' only to think, my dear Mr Benaon, how near he has come to steal my iarling Miriam's heart from you, its natural" 1 custodian." By thia time Shirley had that practice* in telling his story which would have given to a downright He all the appearance of truth. To help in his narrative, he had that very essential requisite, a moat attentive - listener. He had made some improvements on what he had told Wilson Bly, and theresult was that Madame Barron was at once thrilled, interested and horrified. "A 8 spon as it can be done," she said, when Shirley rose to go and ehe rose to accompany him. "you should take that dear child away from Berisford Manor. lam sure she can never be happy here again." 41 1 am ready, if she will only come ; but her desiro to be near her father holds her back." said Shirley. " If her father commanded that she should marry you and leave, what then, dear Mt Benson ?" "I don't know what would occur in that evtnt. But why suppose what is so highly improbable ? ' " But is it improbable ?" "It look* to me so." "But it I could bring this about, and that very soon, what, then, would you say ?" " I would fay what I have always believed' ; — that is, that you are a very wonderful woman " •' Then wait, and you shall say that I am more wonderful than you ever thought me. Now I shall go with you to the house " Madame Barron made as if she would take his arm, but she changed her mind and walked on by hi 3 side. Though they could not overhear what waa said, Mary Brady and Minnie could se& the people in the arbour. " If thitn i-no aint plofcfcin' some divilraintover there," said Mary to her companion, " I'll give you me head for a football." ' I guess they aint sorry att he way things look for Mr Ash worth," said Minnie " I don't think that things louk any wors© for him than for you, or me, or any one ulse." " But didn't Hans say that all the people were talking against Mr Ashworth ?" " So he did, Minnie ; an' Hans isn't thfc man to tell a lie whin the truth 'll answerbotther, But hs to the talk of the people* ntebbe you can remimber that in ould times the people cried out agin One greater nor him ?" Minnie said she remembered this distinctly. " Tho praise nor the blame of the people wouldn't change my belief for a second. Sure, isn't it a common thing for them to make idols of the worst mm and to persecute the best ones ? But it's a great comfort to think that in the long run right always cornea out ahead of wrong." "Yes, Mary, but in the meantime the innocent have got to suffer," said Minnie, solemnly. " What if t'aey have ? Sure there's a grand example of sufferin given to guide us. But we're talkin 1 as if all the judges and juries, in the worruld was believin' the same way as that mob orer in thesthreets of Willowe moe," and with a sneer of indescribable con tempt for the people under consideration, Mary Brady resumed her work. Madame Barron, though having no evidence of the fact, was quite right when sh» iold Shirley Benson that Clarence waa talking with Miriam at the house. Miriam root Clarence on his return, but as be s iid he was anxious to write a letter to his mother by the mail that left in a few hour->, she waited till her father came before asking for the news. The doctor's face and manner showed that he was prostrated by grief, but Miriam followed him to tho library and insisted that he should tell her what had happened to crush him so. In a broken voice he told her about th& exhibition of the bloody dagsrer. " But, father," she cried, "it waa brigkb when cousin Clarence showed it us on Wednesday." " -io it waa — so it was," he moaned. " The box has remained here ; hejdid not take it with him ; how, then, did the stain come on the dagger ?" " I cannot answer ; but the law will say that leaving the box in his room whenever h& went out does not prove that he did not tak© the weapon/ " And do you believe, father, that hfc took that dagger ?" " Do not ask me. my child." IC But I must afk you," she persisted. "I do not want to believe it ; yet I cannot deny the evidence of my own senses* Who else could have got at the weapon but himself?"' Miriam did not reply to this question £ and the doctor, with a groan that came from his heart, sank into a chair and buried his. face in his hands. Seeing that he waa in agony, Miriam did not question him further. She fully realised the blow about to fall on Clarence Ashworth, and as fully realised her own helplessness and his entire innocence. She walked into the reception-room and sat down, with her hands clasped in her lap and her eyes on the floor. She remained so for fully half an houiY when tha was roused by hearing Clarence's^ voice : "Now I can talk with you, Cousin* Miriam." He took a seat across the table from heiy. and narrated all that hod happened. As they talked there, they saw a number of men entering tho grounds, at the head* of whom was Wilson Bly ; but this did nofc disturb them. In a few minutes Wilson Bly stood befoie Clarence, and he said, very calmly and respactfully : "Mr Ashworth, the coroner's jury havehanded in their verdict." " And what is it ?" asked Clarence. " The part that interests you states that the evidence points to you as the murdero*^ of John Penfield. On the strength of this* verdict, it is my duty to arrest you in N thename of the commonwealth of the State ofc New York." (To be Continued)