CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 104, 29 May 1909, Page 4

CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.

It was a typically happv home, that of the Dysarts, a menage a deux, in which only one mutual wish and will prevailed—an ideality realised. And in these days of incompatibilities it is always refreshing to find a husband and wife who are sensible enough to know their own minds and to show other people that they know them. Far, after all, it is rather a lame confession to make to the world—that you have voluntarily chosen as' your p"artner in life a person who is distasteful to you, and whom you hold up to contempt and dislikg both privately and publicly. There is something so much more admirable in demonstrating that you have made your choice wisely and are content with it.

To begin with, Sir Francis Dysart had married for love, although he was a poor man with a good old name as a purport to the Land of Dollars, and Clementina Hope brought him little but her own unarming, clever, enigmatical personality, and a capacity, amounting to a genius, for making friends'. She made them—as it wore—bv the grace of God: and this gift in its perfection is an asset scarcely less valuable than that of making money. So that Sir Francis found himself, soon afjter their marriage, in a well-paid berth which was almost a sinecure, and with an unlimited supply ,<?f invitations | to shoot, fish. hunt, or kill time in (he delimits' of the London season in return for the society of his popular wife. Everyone liked Lady Dysart—women a* w*l| as men—and the number of her devoted admirers was legion. Therefore a dinner party »t the little flat in Mount Street was *a social event in their circle, and an invitation to one a coveted privilege not lightly refused. "I have no business to be here," said M'. n '. Wrexham confidentially to Mrs. IVOlie Ileym-ood as they took their place., .'.''rat man is weak and women unprincipled. Udy Dysart knew I was pledged to my rcgimenfa] dinner tonight, and yet she asked mc-yu.tj sec the result."

|-T m worse," replied Mrs. Hevwood "('ye thrown over a family banquet at my m-jtlier-in-lawV. and am in absolute disgrace. Rut f.lementina has a magnetic attraction that one ran't resist."'" "I know everybody." continued his lordship, glancing down the oval table, "more or less, except one. Who is Lady Dysart's next-door neighbor?". "The man who lias made such a record in diplomacy," was the reply. "Eustace de I'Veyne— only twenty-nine, and an ambassador already! He goes to liis new post to-morrow."

•'English?" queried Lord Wrexham. . "With a touch of Alcxico." she assented; "they sny men of mixed nationality come to the front soonest." Lord Wrexham shook his head. "Europeans, perhaps." he said, "but when vou eross thi. herring-pond you are apt to pet mixed. Good-looking ehnp, though." Jlr. dc Freync vras certainly dislinBlushed both iu looks and "bearing though a critical physiognomist, whilst admitting hi« good points, would hav« boon dubious over eertain characteristics 01 his face.

Howovw J,,, dark, handsome head ooked well in contrast to the fair spiritual beauty 0 i bin hostess, and the anj.

was interested in the other. Lady Dy- . sart's uianner was a shade less equable Lhau usual, for as a rule she charmed passively rather than actively; but on this particular evening there.was a new brilliance about her as though she fas- j cinated by intention, Her husband, always affectionately observant of her, ■ I noticed it, and sent an appreciative I glaucc now and again across the table. ' ' it was at di'Ss'ert that the conversa-

tiou suddenly became general on a subject which had been occupying a good deal of newspaper attention—that of justifiable crime. Mr. de Frcyne was relating a Mexican experience of his own, in which a murderer had been almost canonised because the motive for the deed was considered so exemplary, and in the nrgument that ensued his sympathies seemed to be all on the side of those ,who took the law into their own hands. "It must 7iecd tremendous courage'or tremendous callousness.'' said Lady l)y-| sail, "and 1 can never understand how a woman is capable of it. I always think it is indirectly the fault 01 a man,! because he has so tortured her as to j change her nature." I Her hnsoand smiled. "Clem is' a great believer in her own sex," he said, "but the most cold-blooded murder that 11 have been mixed up in was done -by a woman."

"Don't say 'mixed up in,' Frank," W» monstrated*hi» wifu; "it sottlds as li you had had a hand in it." He smiled again at her vehemence. 'I was sharing a bungalow in Bunnah," he said, "with poor (ioodlake, when it happened. He had given some slifc' llt offence to a native woman, the wife of his cook, ami she slhowed the utmost ingenuity and deliberation in her revenge. She strung grains of rice on some long hairs from her own head, cut each grain separate so that the rice looked as usual, and then gave it to her husband to boil for the Sahib's curry. 1 was dining out that night, luckily for me. It was poor Goodlake's last meal." |

"It killed him?" asked Mrs. Hoywood, an awestruck voice.

I "Chopped Aair has a surer result than many poisons," said Sir Francis; "there is- no antidote. He died after some days in acute agony. 1 fancy powdered glass has the same" effect. And it is almost impossible to bring the crime home." "A neat way of disposing of an undesirable wife," suggested Lord Wrexham.

"Or husband," added Mr. de Freyac, "the method appeals more to feminine natures. A man prefers a knife or a pistol generally." His dark eyes gleamed, and he made a slight swift gesture as of one who strikes an enemy. Lady Dysart, looking at him, gave a "little shudder, "I don't think you ought to tell that story, Frank," she said to her husband; "it suggests such an easy way of getting rid of people. It's demoralising." "On my own head be it!" he answered lightly; "if I perish from chopped hair or powdered glass I shall only have myself to blame."

And then Lady Dysart, with a reproachful glance at him for Ws levity, gave the signal ot departure, and the men were left to ■ themselves. Lord Wrexham made a point of ta'kin« to the man who had been honored oy°Lady Dysart's special attention, and came to the conclusion that his first undefined impression of de Freyne was correct. The diplomatist, tactful as his address was, gave him a vague feeling of antagonism. There mas, Wrexham felt sure, a touch of the savage underlying the polish of the English gentleman.

However, there was no doubt that hi was in favor with Lady Dysart; she permitted him to monopolise her for the, greater part of the evcnrag, and to tako a very lingering farewell oi her when at last he departed, Thet spoke of some future meeting that was to happen abroad during the autumn, when the Dysarts would oe passing through Mr. de Freyne's new administration, and ijord Wrexham noticed that Sir Francis was not so cordial in his good-bye* to Mr. de Freyne as the intimacy between them seemed to demand.

'Still, these details made less impression on his mind at the time than they did later, when he recalled them with an uneasy sense of summing up evidence against a person whom he desired to believe innocent.

For. as it happened, he heard nothing more of de Freyne and saw very little of the Dysarts 'for the rest of the season, and it wan with some surprise that lie found Mr. de Freyne in Lady Dysart's drawing-room on her first at home day in the late autumn. "You two have mot already, 1 ' she said, "so I need not Introduce you.''

"[ thought you were engrossed in .affairs of State', somewhere abroad." said Wrexham, as they shook hands'. "So I am—vicariously," replied Mr. de Kreyne, "but they worked ine rather hard this year, so I'm on leave for a month."

A transient thought passed through Wrexham's mind as to whether this ta*i would lie as welcome to Frank Dysart as it oliviously was to his wife, liut ho dismissed it for thv moment. It returned once or twice iluring tlio; month, especially when he oliserved Lady .Dysart was generally escorted by Mr. de Freyne, and that Sir Francis seemed busier than he used to be. and less available for society work. Still, there w.as nothing to cause remark, and de Freyne was, after all, only one of the crowd of men who would gladly be in liis place. The month had jnst come to an end when Wrexham, turning iuto his club one afternoon with a vague intention of having a chat with Sir Francis, received a piece of information that \yas a slock to him.

Sir Francis Dywtrl was dead—in the very prime of his life—after a tew hours' illness only, from some mysterious disorder that resembled irritant poisoning. There was an enquiry and a post ; mortem examination, but the only result was a confirmation of the doctor's cer. tifieate, which left no definite or reason-1 able grounds for supposing that anything but an accidental eaus'e had brought about the disaster.

Yet a whisper' was breathed here and a hint there, and significant glances were exchanged; and the story of the dinner party, recalled by someone who was present at it, was circulated, until it came to be understood that there was something sinister in Lady Dysart'e sudden widowhood.

"Do you know what people are saying?" s'aid Mrs. Hcywood one day in the Xcw Year to Lord Wrexham, "that the Dysarts did not hit it p|T together latterly, and their life was a sort of armed truce. They say, too " her voice trailed away and she hesitated. "I would rather not hear," said Wrexham; "where is she!" "Clementina was so shattered with grief that she had to go abroad," said Jfr. JJeywood—"at least, so lam told. T hear that she looked quite lovely in her weeds. She has given up the flat, and there seemed to be no sign of her return."

Lord Wrexham va* silent. II 0 had a problem to face that concerned Lady Bysart and himself very closely. For. beneath all the social exigencies that had made impossible the revelation on hii- part of any deep feeling for her, while still permitting him to enrol himself as one of her many preux chevaliers, he had in reality loved Clementina with as much fervor and as little hope as any Knight of the Round Table might have done.

And there was no tangible reason why, in the course, of time, ,hc should not seek her out and (ell her so, without dis> loyalty to his dead friend.

Yet! before doing this, he must resold certain doubts that, against his will continually troubled his mind.

The weeks grew into month", and still he found these questions unanswered, until one day the matter for his debate was s'cltled by the mews that Lady Dysart —the widow of a year-was to be married again (0 Mr. de Freyne. The talk about her, which had abated, flowed once more, and reached so high a tide that sume of it was carried to Clementina herself, ft had such an effect on her that she broke oft' her engagement and retired from social Ijfc. realising at last the reason why so many of her former friends had made no attempt 10 draw her from the seclusion of her time »r mourning. AVhen ljOrd Wroxham heard that she sad thrown Mr. de Freyne Over and had sliut herself up in a lonely villa in Italy, hta sensation was one of relief. His faith in her, dimmed by all that had happened, revived; and lie wrote at once telling her he would soon be yachting in the Mediterranean and wished very much to see her. "Rut before her answer came a curious thing happened—one of tho-.c coincidences that occur in real life and seem , stranger titan fiction. He was motoring on his way to Southampton to join his yacht when lie came upon the scene of an accident in which a woman had been knocked down by a runaway horse and badly injured. Fe conveyed lier to the nearest infirmary, and was' present when sh,. died there, almost immediately.

Just before the end, to his surprise pJic recognised him and said she had kiioim liim well by sight in her days of mat ion of their talk showed that ejwli

service, when she \vas cook to Sir Fran cis and Lady Dysart in Mouut Street It was her lust place; she bud bven living | on her savings' since then. , "Her ladyship was an angel," she faltered in broken sentences, "and 1 wop J shipped her. 1 wasn't the only one—

■ she had a lot of love given to her. I did w-'iat 1 wouldn't have done for any'one else in the world; 1 soiled my hands to get her free. She wasn't happy, and I knew what she wanted —and gave it to her." "What do you mean?' 1 questioned ! Wrexham eagerly. "Won't you tell me —for Lady Dysavt's sake?"

The woman looked at him comprehensively. -'1 see!" she sajd. "Well, I'll tell you for your own sake, because you were a good friend to her and she likes you. 1 gave Sir Francis what the Indian woniuii gave her master."

"Of your own accord'!" demanded Wrexham .breathless! v-

"Lady Dysart l»iew nothing about it," the woman answered evasively. "Shi: wouldn't have harmed a fly—let alo.ic her husband. Sir Francis ami she had driited apart, not through her fault, either, and—l thought 1 would set things right.'' And then, with a sigh, the womtn died.

But Lord Wrexham, with a lightened heart, went on his way rejoicing, and before many days' had passed found himself at the Villa Andrea, on the shorts of uu Italian lake. .

i Lady Dysart was in her garden, aud as she came towards him through the cypress trees he thought what a lovely, desolate figure she looked in her black dress, and how changed, in her pensive sadness, to the brilliant society star' Whom he had last seen. Yet there seemed a new gentleness and sweetness about her that made her, to him, infinitely more attractive.

"Vou are the first of my old friends to come to me," she said as she gave him her hand. "1 thought I had lost them all."

! lie kept, the baud in his while he answered— "f was coming two months ago, and then J heard some news about you that stopped inc." "You mean about my engagement," she said quite simply. "But that is all over now—over and done with for good."' Then, as he looked surprised, she went on—"I should like to tell you all about it, Lord Wrexham, if I may. We are such old friends, and—and I wish to justiiy myself to you." "Before you justify yourself," he said, "1 want to tell you that I love you—that I have loved you all along—aud that I have come here to ask you to be my wife."

She made no exclamation of surprise, and flushed rose-red, -while her eyes had the shimmer of sudden tears. "You care for me?" she said wonderingly. "You believe in me—in spite of all that has been said and thought?" "I believed in you, thank God, when I wrote and asked you to sec me. Since then 1 have learnt something that I will tell you when you have given me my answer. Will you marry me, Clem? 'l have waited for a long time—and very hopelessly—for you. Will you make me lappy at last?"

"But you are sure it would make you 'happy?" she questioned. "Happiness seems far away from mo, and I am doubtful 01 myself and you. I have felt so lonely— «o deserted!" "You shall never be lonely any more," he said, and took her in his arms. A little later, when they sat on the terrace together, she told him of all that had happened to change her life. "I think Mr. de Freyne had a strange influence over me," giic said. "I have wondered sometimes whether lie did not cast some sort of spell on me. He was a Mexican, you know, on his mother's side, and had curious thoughts and ways that made him different from Europeans. I always wanted to please and attract him, yet when T did so it repelled me, and I was frightened of him, Frauk had a great dislike for him, and gradually he seemed to create a barrier between my husband and myself. W« never had a quarrel, Frank and I, but we ceased to be companions—we grew] distant and constrained to one another. And then Frank died—so suddenly, as yo« know—and I felt miserable and selfreproachful, and made up my mind neve: to see Eustace again. But iio Seemed to have the power to magnetise me. anil when we met at last, and he told me: I must marry him, I had no courage M resist. Bnt one day a rumor readied me that 1 was ssupccted of causing poor Frank's death. T went to Eustace and told him o't it with indignation, and he laugihcd in my face. '"lt may be true.' lie said: 'you may haw caused it indirectly, and", in nay! case, it was a happy release for you."' ' '•Then the scales s'eeincd to fall from'

my eyes, and I saw him suddenly as he really was—saw him as Frank must have seen him; and then and there I left him. Tic lias tried i:ntrcaties, threats, commands: they are all useless. Jle has lost his power over me. [ no longer dread him. Il<> is nothing to mv, ''l have been reilising all 1 have lost through hiin, and T have even dared to think " She T*roke off in agitation, her face white and anguished. "Think of it no more," said Lord

Wrexham. "The -past is done and cannot be undone. Come home to your own country, to vour old friends, with me, I and forget this man's existence. Your

future is in mv care now, Clem; and I mean to make it worth while living—for both of us."—By Beatrice Heron-Max-