The Scales of Justice.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8510, 15 August 1907, Page 2

The Scales of Justice.

CHAPTER Xll.—Continued. t Beard was out of sight of the win- ( dow now. and George ventured to let ( down a curtain. Greatly darinj he j struck another match. The li£ h t flared on Mary Cawdor's pale lace and dark, gloomy eyes. She -vas uii- ( easy in htv mind, but Geoi'ge coukl ( see no trace' of fear in her face, Mie would be a fine ally in time of dan- ■ ger. ; "One-must ran a liui3 n^, Ge:>rge suid. "You gcc, our friend . upstairs is almost hy&tericaiiy hungrv. We can't trouble about plates, . for dirty ' I'.lates may cause questions , to be asked. Nor will we incur tne , responsibility of kni.'es and forks. 1 have my hunting-knife in my kit- , bag, that will serve its that a newspaper on the table? Good! Then we will fill it with this half ( loaf of bread and this half of a chicken. That will do. Stay, I dare say we could risk this small jug of ( something to drink. Now let us go." "Just one moment," Mary .pleaded. "For some little time I have had certain knowledge that Gilbert Doyle s friends were planning his escape. He himself showed me the way by which 1 could communicate with him. We could have waited for that escape without which Gilbert could not prove his innocence —only something happened that flightened me. I felt sure that I must see Gilbert at once, so, with the help of Miss Cameron, I sent him a note to that effect. Oh, I know it was wrong of me; but I got so terribly frightened, I lost my nerve! And he came —came at the risk of everything". Captain Drummond,! must see him to-night!" George could not withstand the pleading tone. There would be a serious risk in the meeting, but he would bring it about if possible, though it was a very hazardous step. "I'll fetch him," George said with sudden determination. "Get your interview over quickly, whilst i stand in the window and watch. It's the only way that I can see." Mary's eyes flashed their thanks. Without asking unnecessary questions, Gilbert Doyle found himself piloted into the dark dining-room, where, by the aid of a match carefully lighted, Miss Cawdor's whereabouts were disclosed. It was a dramatic situation —the warders hunting in the snow outside, the escaped convict not far from them in the cover of the warmth of the house and the darkness. •"Now be as speedy as you can," George whispered. Five minutes passed and there was no sign of Beard, though in the dis tauoe the lanterns of the searchers were flashing over the snow like glow worms. From inside the room George could hear the quick buzz of conversation. Then the talk suddenly stopped, and a shrill cry came from inside the room. Startled out of himself, George stepped inside the curtain. The room was less dimly lighted, for a second girl came in bearing a candle in her hand. The veil had gone, but she was still in the robes of a young and .beautiful bride. .From her manner she seemed to have been looking for her sister. But in a moment she placed the candle on the table and flung herself headlong into the arms •of the astonished Doyle. Winifred's lips were parted, her eyes were full of the glow of a great and unexpected happiness. "I iave found him!" she cried. •"Oh, my dear love, I have found him! And he shall never leave me again! Dear doctor come quickly, for I have found him!" "Bltss the child!" came Beard's thick tones from the other side of the curtain. "I'm coming, little girl, I'm coming.!" A smothered groan burst from Doyle's quivering lips, while the curtains over the window flutteredj ominously. CHAPTER XIII. NEARLY LOST. The candle flared in the draught from the window. George Drummond remarked the wax guttering down as one notes trivial details in times of danger. He could hear the footsteps outside drawing nearer. Nobody icoved, the little group were fascinated. With eyes half closed, the little white bride clung to her lover. George was the first to recover himself. Another moment and everything would be lost. His mili> tary training and instinct came to help him. It was no time for sentiment. Kindly but firmly he untwined the girl's arms from Gilbert Doyle's neck and pushed hiin towards the door. The poor creature seemed to i'eel what was in the air; her clouded brain told there was a crisis. "No, no!" she cried. "Do not be so cruel! Is there no kind Christian heart amongst you all? And I have •waited so long for him already!" "Take no heed," George whispered. "Gilbert, go back to my room at once. Leave me with this young lady. I daresay I can find a way to explain. See, the curtain is already being drawn. Go!" With one loving,, backward glance Gilbert Doyle vanished into the dark hall. Mary Cawdor would have lingered, but George thrust her fiercely away. He began to see his way. It wag fortunate for him that Winifred had fallen into a kind of trance —a waking dream. She stood theie swaying slightly, passing a hand across her troubled eyes. "Where has he gone?" she asked. "He was here just now; he had his arms about me. And they told me he was in prison! Did you pretend to be him, or was it a dream? Or is my jnaincss wor§§ than ever?"

By FRED If. WHITE, [Published By Special Arrangement.] [All Eights Reserved.]

George answered not. He was ,hinking rapidly. All the time his leart was beating painfully, and the leadly sense of physical weakness impressed him. But there was no iced for reply, as the curtain was pushed aside and Bernard Beard itood in the opening. The whole ;hing seemed to have occupied a second. "What does all this mean:_ Beard demanded hoarsely. "Winifred, has this man been ill-treating vou? I heard you call out as if in trouble." George checked his rising anger; the hot blood flamed into his face. This man desired to insult him, but, after all, what did the insult master? He was disgraced and friendless; another taunt made no difference. "I am not in the habit of ill-treat-ing ladies, Dr. Beard," he said coldly. "It is quite possible this lady has mistaken me for somebody else." "But why are you here at this time of night?'' Beard asked. "I admit you are an involuntary guest, and did riot trespass upon our hospitality of your own accord. It was your misifortune to have a misunderstanding with Sir Devereux Drummond—a misunderstanding that ma'de it impossible for you to remain in your uncle's house. You were very ill, and fortune brought you here. I will not say that you are unwelcome, but. I do saj that I have a right to ask why vou are prowling about a stranger's house at this hour of the night." There was something cold and cutting in the speech. And yet George felt that he could take no objection to its tone. Beard had a perfect right to ask why a st-anger was prowling about his house like a thief in the night. And one thing struck him as very strange. Despite Beard's hardness and suspicion, he seemed to have a tender smile and almost a caress for the girl by his side. She had closed her eyes, as if the physical effort had been too much for her, and Beard was supporting her with his arm about her slender waist. He was like a father who protects a child from some danger. George felt that he almost liked Beard at that moment. "I hope you will find my explanation satisfactory," he said. "I came down to look for food, something to stay the appetite till morning. This young lady happened to come in and she mistook me for somebody else." "It was no mistake," the girl said, upraising her eyes suddenly. "I saw him there. He stood by the sideboard. I woke up and found that my sister was not with me. And so I came to look for her. And I saw him standing by the sideboard. I tell you it was Gilbert. I did not dream it; I was not so mad as that. Gilbert stood there, and he turned as I called to him. I can feel the touch of his arms about me now." With some anxiety George watched the effect of this speech on Bernard Beard. It was hard work to appear indifferent; besides, he was not used to prevarication. he succeeded in controlling his emotions. To his great relief Beard merely smiled—a sad, pitiful smile, that made his face look quite attractive. His voice was very soothing. Was this a greatly maligned man or a consummate actor and scoundrel? At that moment he would have found it hard to determine. Beard seemed to have forgotten his presence. "So you saw Gilbert," he murmured, "standing by the sideboard? Dear, dear! He took you in his arms and kissed you? That is exactly what he would have done. But he had no business in my dining-room at this time in the morning, and you have no business here either. Stay just a moment, and I will try to find your sister." tseard walked out of the room, leaving George alone with the little white bride. He felt nervous and embarrassed though rejoiced that Beard did not pay the slightest heed to what the girl said. She stood by the side of the table with one hand resting upon the polished mahogany her gentle face cast down. -She was so lost in dreams that she had quite forgotten George's presence. What a pure and pretty face it was, he thought; what a pathetic figure altogether! The romance of the girl's life and the story of her unhinged mind filled his soul with pity. But George had to turn his attention to sterner issues. jDoubtless Gilbert was safe in his bedroom again, but would not be the less hungry for that. George contrived to fill his pockets before Beard returned. He was not more suspicious than before, though his face was set and his lips compressed. He was followed by Mary Cawdor, looking sullen and defiant. (To be continued.)