The Scales of Justice.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8515, 21 August 1907, Page 2

The Scales of Justice.

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

CHAPTER XVI-Continued. Jessie departed obediently after a kiss from Flora and a large handful of preserved fruits. Sybil turned eagerly to Flora for details. But there were no detail forthcoming for the nresent. as George, followed by Beard, came back into the diningroom. George had a carefully assumed expression of indifference; Beard's lace was almost boyish in its gaiety. | "We have been carrying the mystery of the locked bedroom and the concealed convict a little further," the latter said. "I fancy I have con vinced Captain Drummond that I should have made an excellent detective. My theory is that trie bedroom door did not lock itself accidentally, but that somebody else .climbed through the window before the captain was compelled to follow suit. . It stetned to me that I could point out where the ivy had been pulled down by the convict on his way to the bedroom." "And what would the object be?" Flora asked.

"My dear child, your knowledge of the ways of convicts is primitive. What is the very first thing that a convic' requires when he regains his liberty? A thoughtful Government has provided him with a uniform that does not permit of disguise. A Chinaman might pass without comment in the street, but not, a convict in his full dress. Therefore, he needs clothes. A change of garments is absolutely necessary, especially if he hopes to keep his liberty. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred the first thing the escaped convict does is to steal a suit of clothes. This Gilbert Doyle Well, what is it?"

The intruding footman extended a shabby-looking note, written in pen cil. on a tray. He was understood to say that a hoy had brought it. There was no answer; only a request that the letter should be handed to Dr Beard without delay.

"That being admitted beyond all shadow of dispute," Beard went on, leisurely opening the letter, and apparently enjoying the sound of his o,vn voice, "we will proceed to our next deduction, which is—which is Good heavens! You don't mean to say I —1—I "

The man paused, white and shaking. George could see that there were only half a dozen words pencilled on v the note. But the effect of them on Beard had been extraordinary. He seemed to collapse and shrivel up like a pricked bladder, his shoulders fell away, he looked half his natural size. He staggered across the room to the fireplace and dropped the letter into the blaze. George watched the dramatic change with a certain grim amusement.

"Are jou ill, sir?" he asked. "I hope there is no bad news in your note."

Beaixl did not seem to hear. He turned his staring eyes upwards, as if seeking for new strength and assistance that were denied him. He tottered to the sideboard and poured himself outa glass of brandy. After he had swallowed this a little natural colour crept into his fat cheeks again.

"It was a shock," he muttered —"a terrible shock. The sudden death of an old friend."

George nodded grimly. He knew perfectly well that the man was lying —and, indeed, Beard was aware of the lameness of his excuse. There had been no time to invent anything plausible. He had to utter his shoddy falsehood on the spur of the moment. "I have to go over to Castleford," he said. "I shall have to go at once. That will prevent me from having the pleasure of driving you to the station. Flora, you will see that there is a trap to take Captain Drummond -to the station at the proper time."

Flora intimated that she would do all that was necessary. In spite of his shock, Beard had not forgotten his intention to get George out of the house as soon as possible. With a muttered apology for his enforced absence, Beard left the room. A little later he was seen striding do .vn the drive, a large stick in his hand. "Fortune has played into our hands with a vengeance this time," George exclaimed. "What a wonderfully clever man that is! He seemed almost to divine exactly what had happened. Now that he is out of the way, can vvemot act at once?" "Fortune always comes to the side of truth and honour at last," Flora said thoughtfully. "But do not be too hasty. You have only a faint idea of the cunning cleverness of that man. He may be acting all the time. I don't think that he was, but one never can tell with a man of his marvelelous ability. Let me put my plan into execution." Flora slipped out of the room; she did not return for the best part of half an hour. When she did her cheeks were glowing and her eyes sparkled. "I think I have managed it," she said. "I started the scheme a little time ago by sending one of the footmen into Castleford for me. Look down the drive and tell me what you .see."

There was nothing to see for some little time, till the figure of a servant in livery, who carried a letter in his hand into sight. The figure walked jauntily along looking neither to the right nor the left. As he approached the clump of beeches by the lodge gates he stopped, apparently to tie up a shoelace; and then there appeared a child, who spoke to h"'m.

"I see it all!" Sybil cried. "How wonderfully clever you are! You have borrowed the dress of one of your footmen —the man you sent to Castleford—and dressed Mr Doyle up in it! By the time your footman-re-turns, his lost livery will be restored to. hk room, If Dr. Beard is on the

look-out be will never see that." George was warm in his congratulations. He could go to London now with an easy mind, he said. But he had made his mind up to one thing—he was coming back again. Was there anything in which he could be useful! Flora smiled as she held out her hand.

"There are many ways in which you can be useful," she said. "Before you go I will give you the address of an old family solicitor. I want you to see him and tell him what has happened here. And then I have some detective work for you to do also. And when the time comes, and you are free to hold up your head again " Flora said no more, but her glorious smile was enough for George. He did not realise the fact that he was still holding the girl's two hands in his. Here was a beautiful and noble girl, who believed in him when all the world had turned against him. For her sake he would fight the battle out to the bitter end. And when the truth was declared and he could hold up his head again, he had made up his mind to ask Flora the question whi:h a good man should ask only one woman, and that woman once in a lifetime.

Meanwhile, Doyle was making his way safely to the lodge gates. He knew pretty well what he had to do, for Flora had told him all in the hall when he had smuggled himself down • stairs. As he stood in the hall he would have passed anywhere for a respectful servant; he stood quietly listening to all that Flora had to say. "You will do exactly as you are told," she said. "I daresay you are puzzled to know why I should fake such an interest in your case, and why I have interfered like this. But-there is no time to go into that now. I must see you later. It is arranged that you shall go to the cottage occupied by the poacher Marston, as you did last night. Marston will be out of the way, I know. Therefore I shall come and see you tonight at ten. 1 shall have news that will surprise you. Do you quite understand?"

"1 quite understand that you are an angel of goodness and mercy," Doyle said huskily. "You are Miss Cameron. Of course, I have heard of you in the notes that Mary has sent me and smuggled into my possession by my faithful servant, Juan Garcia. But Mary seemed to hint that you were not interested in their misfortunes."

"So it appeared," Flora said. "But until very lately Mary had not confidence in me. I expect she looked upon everybody in the household in the light of an enemy. It was only when I found out certain things, and to a certain extent forced her confidence, that she gave me the details. But I had to be careful and discreet; I had to deceive Mr Beard. He does not know that I am on your side; he thinks that I only interest myself in my own affairs. And then I made a discovery that told me it was time to act. What that discovery is I will tell you when I see you tonight. Now you had better go."

The pseudo-servant touched his hat respectfully as he passed out of the house into the drive. By the clump of beeches he found Jessie awaiting him. Despite his disguise she recognised him, as her face testified.

"So we are going to play a little game together, again," she said. "Miss Flora told me that. It seems a funny game, and I don't see much point in it; only if Miss Flora says it is all right; why then, it must be, don't you think?" "I'm certain of it," Doyle said gravely. "Miss Flora is goodness and beauty itself. And our little game is only innocent hide-and-seek. Now, little girl, you are to take me to some pretty. bower in the woods and hide me there. Then you are to go to the house and fetch a parcel and take another back again. You see, I don't feel quite comfortable in these clothes and I want my own again. But you will say nothing to anybody." Jessie promised gravely to observe all these things. She brought Doyle at length to a dark recess in the wood, where there was the remains of an old charcoal burner's hut. Soon Doyle was once more in the suit of clothes he had borrowed from George, and the footman's garb was on its way back to the Moat House again. There was two or three papers in the pocket of the coat, and a packet of cigarettes, to say nothing of a small basket of food. Nothing had been omitted for his comfort. (To be Continued.)