The Scales of Justice.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8497, 29 July 1907, Page 2

The Scales of Justice.

CHAPTER I.—Continued. tampon ■ The Moat House was not more than two miles away; a fine old place, dull and secluded, perhaps," but full of historic associations—the dowerhouse of the Drummonds, in fact. The Carnerons had come there some live or six years ago, but nobody in the county knew anything about them. As the newcomers had let it be seen that they wanted no society, the county left them severely alone. There were strange stories, of course, bul; they were inevitable in a country place. "It is very thoughtful and kind of you," Sybil said warmly. "Never mind, Watson, I'll go and fetch Dr. Gordon; I am quite sire that he will go at once. Whoever knew the doctor to refuse an act of kindness. My uncle is from well, and the doctor has been to see him. Watson, take Miss Cameron into the library till I come back." Evidently the doctor took a deal of finding, or so Miss Cameron thought, as she sat in the ingle-nook by the side of the fireplace waiting. She could hear the subdued murmur of the chastened guests, and the swell of gentle laughter, and she sighed softly to herself. For hers had been a lonely hfe—no companions of her own age even, nothing during girlhood but the seclusion of a convent school. Flora Cameron went nowhere saw nobody. Yet she was a very ycung woman still and the joy of life flowed in her veins. After the brisk walk in the keen, shrewd air, the glow of the wood fire made her drowsy. She did not feel inclined to move; she wanted to listen to the rise and fall of the distant but melodious hum. She heard a firm, measured step across the oak floor, a quick voice asking a question as to some letters which a groom had been sent to fetch from Longtown. A more respectful voice replied that the letters were on the library table. Sir Devereux had come down to the library for something, Flora surmised. She could hear an envelope or two ripped open impatiently; she heard the sound of a heavy sigh—a suppressed buggestion of pain. Then she caught herself wondering if Dr. Gordon had already left the house; she felt herself like an intruder, as Sir Drummond began to talk to himself aloud: "It's impossible!" he groaned. "A nephew of mine, my brother's son, the fellow who some day will be master here! Oh, no! I can't believe it. By Heaven! it is like some hideous dream! And yet Courtenay, my old friend Courtenay, would never have written like that if —if —I —I —can't see. I'm getting old; my eyes are not what they once were. And to think !" The hard quavering voice trailed off into an unmistakable sob. A wave of red ra/ue over the hidden listener's face. She could not disclose her psesence now. She heard a quick step of somebody who seemed to trerr.'ole with excitement. Again did the hot blood flame over Flora's forehead. Delicacy forbade the discovery of her position. She could not proclaim that she had overheard a sacred family secret. She must stay there for the present, and seek an avenue of escape as soon as possible. There came a step in the hall, and someone entered the library. "Well, and what's the matter now, Watson?" Sir Devereux asked. His voice was quite steady again. "Most wonderful thing, sir!" Wat.son said. His tone was joyfully hysterical. "He's come back, sir—actually come back, this night of all nights in the year! Mr George, sir —our Mr George—standing in the hall, as I seen him with my very own eyes, Sir Devereux!" "George!" Sir Devereux cried. His voice rose again to a kind of hoarse scream. "George—to-night! Oh, I have been too prosperous; my life has been too well ordered by Providence; I have neglected the things that I ought to have dene. I might have felt that my day of | trouble must come. And to fall like j this—all at once!" "Is there anything the matter, sir?" the trembling Watson asked. His master, firm and resolute, histoid employer stern and commanding, he knew; but this old, old ir.an, with the white, quivering face and palsied hands, he had never seen before. "For Heaven's sake don't look at me like that, sir!" No reply for a moment. The uneasy listener in the deep inglenook 1 could see in imagination the face of the old soldier as he fought for the mastery of himself. Flora would have given much to find herself in tha teeth of the snow again; but she could not move now. Shj heard the howl of the gale, she saw the masses of red sparks go wheeling up the wide chimney, she ; tried to think of other matters. She had no wish to hear the ghastly secrets of the house. i "Ye?, yes; you are right, Watson!" Sir Devereux said humbly. "I —I was overcome. It was so utterly unexpected, I didn't know what to do. Where is Mr George? Has he seen anybody els 3 yet, or " "Nobody, sir. He slipped into the cloakroom in the vestibule till I could smuggle him up to dress. Looks more like bed than dancing, to my mind. He wanted to make the surprise complete and " "Never mind that. Say nothing further, but bring Mr George to me here. Tel! him that I want to see h ; m in the library at once. Pie is to come to me alone. Now go!" Watson] crept away, closing the door behind him. What hideous tragedy was here? the listener wondered. Not that she wanted to know; she would have given anythilig to be outside tiie doer. She felt hot from

By FRED Sf. WHITE, [Published By Special Aiuungement.] [All 'Rights Reserved.]

head to foot. And yet the strange feeling of delicacy held her here. She was not quite as other girls; she knew but little of the world and its ways. She hoped that this close family secret wasn't going to be revealed to her. Looking round, she could see a little more than half of the room; the severe simplicity of the oaken panels, the portraits in hoop and ruffle and lace and armour telling of the pride of race and pride of place—the proud humility of good people. With the old Scottish blood in her veins, Flora Cameron understood that feeling. In the angle of an old Florentine mirror, she could see the solitary occupant of the room now. He was tall and bronzed and grey, the typical old soldier even in his evening dress. But the stoop ox the shoulders was fearful, the face pitiful in its trembling, carking emotion. A scarlet riband flamed across his shirt, and a collar of some order dangled below his tie. He turned in his agitated, unsteady walk, and the door opened and a young man entered. Flora could tell that he was a young man by his step. Even before he spoke, though the step dragged a little. "Well, uncle," the voice said, "are you not surprised to see me. A little glad, too, I hope. I heard of this grand dinner in town, so came in without delay. My doctor says I ought to have stayed in bed, but — But what is wrong?" A pleasant voice, Flora decided —a voice that she liked —clear, firm and true. Yet how she wished she had proclaimed her presence. Dr Gordon must have departed on his errand, and Miss Drummond was under the impression that her visitor had left the house also. Even - now it was not too late. Flora did not lack courage; it was shyness that held her back. Perhaps, after all, there would be nothing "Did anyone see you just now?" Sir Devereux asked. "Anyone of the house-party recognise you?" "Nobody whatever," the young man replied, taken aback at his reception. "Nobody but Watson. But, uncle, why do you ask. Your manner is so strange!'' "Strange! And well it may be. It is even strange to me that I hold my self in check so well. And yet an hour ago I would have changed places with nobody in the world. lam Sir Devereux Drummond, the head, mark you, of a family of distinguished soldiers—God-fearing, upright, honourable. They are all about you, here in the hall, on the stairway. And every man of them has helped to make history. Never was a Drummond yet who shamed the family honour —till you!" The young man gasped. Flora caught a glimpse of him now in the angle of the mirror—tall, well set up, like the older man, square and soldierly. His face was very pale; he used a stick by way of support. A thrill of pity touched the listener. "I am not quite so strong as I might be," the young man said. "I have by no means recovered, from the the effects of my wound, and the r«ugh life with the rest after the affair at Kooli Pass. If you will please to be more explicit " "Then you are going to brazen it out. Well, I might have expected that. If you had only written and explained matters, only let me know "But, uncle, it was impossible. After the Kooli Pass disaster my troops were cut up. I was desperately wounded and fell into the hands of the foe. They were as kind to me as they could be, but they were hard pressed to live themselves. Two months I spent with them, till fortune favoured me and I got down to the coast. They sent me home at once. I admit it was a bad business." "A bad business! You merely admit that it way a bad business! Heavens, has the man no sense of shame? It was a disgraceful, a cowardly affair! If your men had stood firm you must have held the post and saved the battalion. As it was, you played the coward, you gave the order to retreat 1 If you had no heed for your own reputation, you might have thought of Ronald (Jardrew, the man who is engaged to your sister. I tell you the affair is out, sir; it is whispered in the clubs.and has got into the Press. And you come back as if nothing had happened, expecting a welcome to the home of of your ancestors! If you had only The speaker paused as the door opened, and a rustle of silk draperies followed. Sybil Drummond fluttered into the room eagerly. "The doctor has already gone, Miss Cameron," she said. "He did not——Why, George, George, my dearest boy " A little cry, half pleasure, half pain, broke from the girl's lips. She hurried forward with outstretched hands, but with a quick movement Sir Devereux stepped before her. (To be Continued.)