The Scales of Justice.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8513, 19 August 1907, Page 2

The Scales of Justice.

CHAPTER XlV.—Continued. Sybil flushed with indignation. She was proud enough of George, but what brother would stand in the light of favor where a lover was concerned? "You evidently do not know Captain Cardrew," Sybil said. "If you did, you would not connect him with anything of the kind. You may believe George, but if you saw the two side uy side, you would have to admit that your belief in the one was tiohvx tin ether a cruol injustice. But we no9t! not argue point, Is not y:-uv -a-v i».? ,J i Sybil ".va'J iii the house presently, in the great flagged hall with the oak carvings all around her. From thence she passed into the dining-room which was deserted now. Sybil noticed the white flowers, and the curious effect of the sunshine on the old castle. She inclined her head as Flora asked to be excused, so that she could fetch Captain Drummond. Left alone, Sybil wandered about the eld room, falling under its soothing influence a.id calm. She glanced at the wonderful old overmantel; her eyes felljon the little row of framed photographs there. She paused before one of them, and opened her eyes in wide astonishment. "Ronald!" she exclaimed. "Ronald here! What a curious thing! Ronald in a style of photograph I have never seen before! My dear Miss Cameron," as Flora entered the room, "why did you not tell me that you knew Ronald Cardrew well?" "Your brother," Flora began, "will be here What do sou! mean? I have never met Captain Car- j drew in my life. That photograph is | not " "But it is!" Sybil cried aloud. "Do you think I don't -fcnow? What mvstery is this?" 'Flora looked down to the floor and then up to the ceiling. Her face was a studv in emotions. "That is Mr Oh, there is some mistakehere!" dhe said. "Say what vou will, that is not Captain Cardrew!" CHAPTER XV. WHO IS THE MAN? Little used to anything that did not appear on the surface, Flora's agitation was yet not lost on Sybil Drummond. The former had the air of one who conceals something, and Sybil told herself proudly that she had not been brought up in an atmosphere of that kind. "I do not care to make myself in the least disagreeable," she said, in her haughtiest way.J "You have been very kind to my dear brother, and 1 am very grateful to you. Let me try to believe there is a mistake somewhere. Whose photograph did you say it was?" "1 did not say," Flora replied. "1 said it was not the portrait of Captain Cardrew, and I adhere to my statement." Sybil took the framed photograph from the mantelpiece and held it to the light. She was quick and passionate as a rule, and accustomed to having her own way, and not given to yield to anybody. Sybil passed usually for one of the most amiable of girls, but one or two geople could have told a different story. Her blood was beginning to tingle now ; she felt that she was being deceived. And yet there was no" - sign of prevarication on Flora's cold white face. The girl's expression suggested pain more than anything else. "I think we had better get to the bottom of this thing first," Sybil went on. "You say that those are not the features of Captain Cardrew, and I say that they are. It is impossible for me to believe] that two men could be so wonderfully alike. lam certain that I am looking.at the face of the man to whom I am engaged to be married." A sort of choking cry came from Flora. Her head was bent forward, her eyes were full of some nameless terror. She was an white V.-3 the banks of flowers behind her. Just for a moment she seemed inclined to burst out into a torrent of words, then by an effort she checked herself. "I beg your pardon," she said. "There must be a mistake here. We must—we must allow that two men in this world are identically alike. Such a thing has happened before. Did not a poor fellow suffer a term of penal servitude on account of his amazing likeness to somebody else? Do your remember that?" "Yes 1 remember that," Sybil admitted slowly. "Lots of people swore that the innocent man was the criminal. If you can prove that that picture doss not represent Ronald —" "It represents my half-brother," Fbra said, in a tone that conveyed th-j fact that she was not disposed to stand any further questions on the subject. "He passed out of our lives some five years ago. Miss Drummond, I am going to ask you something that may seem strange, not to say impertinent, to you. Have you known Captain Cardrew long?" "For two years," Sybil explained. "He came to stay with 11s after the Boer war. He and my brother were very friendly at that time, and Captain Cardrew had done one or two little things that brought him before the public. He was an Imperial Yeoman." "Oh, yes! Not a commissioned officer, then?" "No; he was merely a trooper when he went out to South Africa. He won his commission. Then he came to stay with us, and we became engaged." "You know his family and his people I suppose? Pardon me if I seem to be impertinent." "I don't know any of his people," : Sybil admitted. "You see, Cardrew

By FEED I. WHITE, [Published By Special Arrangement.] [All Eights Reserved.]

is anything but a common name. Ronald has told me several times that he has not a relation in the world. His father was a general in the Indian Army, and died out there." Flora bowed and asked no further questions. Yet she did not appear to be in the least easy in her mind. She turned away and looked out ot the window, with a pained expression on her face. And it almost seemed to Sybil that she was glad to find that Captuin Cardrew was not in England. Flora might, have said more, but George entered the room at the same moment, "This is very good of you, Sybil," | he said. "I am so glad that you are not going to neglect me altogether. Perhaps, now that you have made the acquaintance of Miss Cameron " But Flora had already slipped from the room. Her natural delicacy of feeling prompted her to leave brother and sister alone. As the light filtered in through the painted window at the end of the dining-room, Sybil saw how pale and ill George looked. "You poor dear!" she said, as she kissed him warmly. "I am afraid you are worrying dreadfully, George. Is there not some great mistake somewhere?" "There has certainly been a miscarriage of justice," George said hoarsely. "I am not guilty of this abominable charge that hangs over me. And yet, if I an not guilty " "Then Ronald is? *And that is impossible! George, you are not going to shirk your duty! Ycu are not going to place the blame on him?" "I am not going to denounce him, even." George said, coldly. "I would much rather not, dear. Don't let there be any cloud between you and me, Sybil. My uncle has turned his back upon me; he will never receive me again till my innocence is proved. I would rather never return to Grange Court after what has happened. One thing puzzles me —why is Ronald Cardrow's photo here?" "But it is not his photo," Sybil cried. "I noticed that directly I came into the mom. Of course, I asked Miss "Cameron about it, and she says the photo represents her half-brother. I six aid say that he had met with some kind of trouble, for she was very reticent. It is one of those extraordinary likenesses one reads of sometimes." "Cardrew was always very close as to his past," George said meaningly. "Ronald is an honourable gentleman, and no charge hangs over him!" Sybil flashed out. "If you could only say the same thing! lam sick of- these insinuations! I am tired " "For Heaven's sake, do not let us quarrel!" George said. "Goodness knows, I have few enough friends in the world as it is! And some day the truth will come to light and the guilty will be punished. lam going to London to-day, Sybil. What will happen to me after that I don't know. But there is one thing that I have to do first, if it is only to show my gratitude to the girl who has been so kind to me. This is a mysterious housed —■" "Everybody says so, George. Have you tapped any of its mysteries?" "Fate has placed in my hands the key of the secret, Sybil. It has been thrust on me undesignedly. I can't tell you everything—it would not be fair. AH the elements of a great tragedy are here-the parted lovers, the wicked villain, and the persecuted hero. The hero has been in gaol—till quite lately." Sybil listened 'with dilated eyes. Everything savouring of the romantic appealed to her. "There is nothing wrong in the people, I hope?" she asked. "The women here are ad good and pure as yourself," said George earnestly. "It is the man who is the rogue in the plot. You have seen Dr. Bernard Beard, no doubt. A big man, with a fine presence. I expect you have met him in the lanes. He is the man we have ti combat. And I have pledged myself to do so and protect the innocent women here." "I am curious as to the hero in gaol," Sybil said. "I remarked that he had been in gaol—till recently," George went on. "Convicts escape sometimes, and "One escaped last night; he has not yet been found. George, do you mean to tell me that the poor fellow is actually the hp.ro of the story? You have met him?" "Yes; we had a most dramatic meeting in my bedroom last night. But the wonder of the thing does not cease here. you recollect Gilbert Doyle?" (To be Continued.)

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