The Scales of Justice.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8517, 23 August 1907, Page 2

The Scales of Justice.

CHAPTER XVll.—Continued

It was a strange, weird conversa- i tion in a strange, weird place. The full force of it was not lost upon | Doyle. He shuddered to think what a ' false step might do for him. "Your little girl sent me," he said. "I went to your house to meet a lady. But that has nothing to do with the matter at all." "Pardon me - if I venture to disagree with you. You are speaking of Miss Cameron?" "As you know so much, ic would be foolish to deny it. Miss Cameron "Is an angel, if ever there was one," Mars ton groaned between his spasms of pain. "God bless her always, if it is only for the goodness to my little one. And if she picked out my cottage to meet you, then you are not a | very bad man, or she would not meet i you at all. She felt pretty sure that! I should be out. It would have been all the same if 1 had been at home. I would do anything for Miss Cameron, though she scarcely deigns to speak to me. I should like to know your name, if you please!" Doyle," Gilbert said]unthinkingly —"that is, Doyle will do as well as any other for the present." "Of course it will. And for the futuie too, seeing that you were born to the name. You are the man who escaped from Greystone Prison last night, and found your way into the Moat House by the corridor window. I was out on professional business, and saw all that. I waited with some curiosity to see what was going to happen, But when I saw that you had friends in the house, I understood that it was all a planned thing. At that moment I didjnot know that you were Mr Gilbert Doyle, but I guessed it this morning when I was told that a convict called Doyle had escaped. I dare say you wonder howl know all these things, but everything will become plain presently. So you came of your own free will to take this poor body of mine home? .Why did you came?" "Because your littlej one has hurt her leg," Gilbert explained. "She had just received your message, and was in a great state as I reached the cottage. I may say that I was hiding near your cottage last night, but that is another story. I had to come —I should have been inhuman if I had not." "Aye, and it's going to prove the best hour's work you have ever done in your life," Marston said in a hoarse voice. "I'm a great blackguard, but I have a sneaking liking for a good man yet. Stoop down by the side of the boat, under the locker. You'll find a lantern there. Light it and I'll tell you how to get to me." , Gilbert found the lantern and a box of matches as well. He could see little patches of green grass dotted here and there across the pool like stepping-stones. But they were not all safe ones, Marston told him. He carefully indicated the different patches that would bear the weight of a man's body. There was a hollow of hard earth in the centre of the swamp, and here Marston lay on a mass of dry straw. "It's no use," the latter said, as he essayed to rise. "With your help; I daresay I can manage to reach the other side of the mere, but lam too exhausted to get home. Give me the lantern, and take me on your back. I'll tell you which of the green patches to land on. Once we are on the other side of the water we can develop the plan of campaign." The other side of the mere was at length reached, and then, utterly exhausted, Marston fell off the back of his supporter. Gilbert picked up ithe lantern, and let the rays of it play ■on the poacher's ghastly pale and drawn face. "This is the worst attack I have ■ever had," he said feebly. "If only I had my medicine here, or a glass of laandy. If I don't get home I shall die. A little time ago I wanted to die, but not since you came. There is work for me to do yet." "And for me fclso. In th 3 first place, I have to get you home." " Which as improbable, in the ordinary way. They don't feed you up for athletic exploits yonder, and lam a big man. You must fetch my pony. He is at the edge of the wood, tethered to the side of the road —a ragged little bay, without saddle or bridle. I always keep him like that to avoid suspicion." Gilbert did not wait for further directions. He was anxious to get Martton hofne, and not to keep Flora Cameron waiting longer. With the lantern in his hand, he felt pretty sure he would not lose his way. He had only to find the pony and take him back to Marston. Gilbert flashed the rays of his lantern from side to side, as if seeking for suspicious objects. Then suddenly the rays touched a mass of black metal pushed into a ditch that seemed to be more or less filled with water. He had not the least hesitation in guessing what the name the of metal was. "Now, I wonder what this means?" he asked himself. "This is close to the spot where the Americans stopped me. Why have they hidden their car in that ditch?"

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE SCENT OF DANGER. There lay the great Mercedes, as jf it had broken down, and been abandoned for the present. But there was r.o sign, so far as Gilbert cou'd se3, of anything wrong. Was it possible that these men were after no s ood here, that they had some evil scheme afoot? But predatory char- - alters, as a rule, do not parade the country in motor-cars that cost a coulple of thousand pounds, There

By FRED ffl. WHITE, [Published By Special Arrangement.] [All Rights Reserved.]

must be some better explanation than that. Nevertheless, the car seemed to be all right, and had been hidden by men who knew the wood better than they pretended. Still, it was no business of Gilbert's. There was the pony grazing by the roadside. Gilbert found the end of the rope, and led the docile little beast into the spinney. It was not far to the place where Marston lay, but the ground had began to be rough, and Gilbert decided to tie up the pony here and carry the poacher to it. He fastened the animal to a tree, and placed the lantern by the side, taking care to push the dark-slide in gain. There seemed nothing to fear now, so Gilbert pushed on boldly. Then suddenly a figure gripped him , by the throat; Gilbert was carried j fiercely backwards, and only a treestem saved him from complete col- ! lapse. So utterly surprised was he, he showed no fight for a minute. But he knew that his assailant was big and strong and powerful, and that the clutch on his throat was murderous in its intensity. "So I've got hold of you," a hissing voice said. "You thought to trap me here like that. Ic was a pretty scheme of yours, but I saw through it. I'll kill you before the other one comes up, and then I'll kill him, too." Gilbert said nothing; he was keeping his strength for a" final effort. He was rather weaker than he had imagined, and he would need all his strength presently. That the man meant to kill him he did not doubt. He would have tried to explain the mistake but for two things—the grip on his throat choked the words in the utterance, and he was wondering in a dazed way "where he had heard that voice before. It came to him like an inspiration, like the illumination of danger in a lightning flash. The mysterious doctor; the man on board the steamer who had schemed to get Gilbert into all the trouble that had fallen upon him! He recognised -the voice distinctly; he knew his murderous foe to be Dr. Beard, under whose roof he had passed the night before. The fact that Beard had mistaken him for somebody else did not lessen the danger. Even if Beard knew that he was attacking the wrong man, he would want to see the face of his foe. That would be equally fatal. To go back to Greystone was worse than death itself. And that would be the upshot of the discovery of hia identity. There was nothing for it but to struggle and fight on to the end, in the faint hope that some stroke of fortune would intervene in favour of the weaker man. Not that there was much chance of anything of the sort, Gilbert thought bitterly. Cruel Fate ! was dogging his footsteps again, and everything was going against him. The world began to dance and reel before his eyes; there were stars everywhere. For Beard's grip on the throat of his foe was like a vice; there was no shadow of doubt as to his intention. Just for a moment George managed to shift that grip and call for help. It was possible that Marston might come to his assistance. The shout was not uttered in vain. Quick as a hare as to his hearing, Marston had detected the sounds of a struggle. When the cry for help came he realised that his new ally 1 was in trouble. A stray keeper, probably. With a great effort, Marston managed to drag himself along the ground in the direction of the fray. Long nights in the darkness had given him eyes like a cat's. He cam 6 sufficiently near to see what was taking place. He could make out the powerful for".i of Bernard Beard and the slender figure of Gilbert Doyle. He had an idea, too, that the doctor was unconscious of his opponent's identity. But Marston did not wait to discuss the point. Taking a thick stick from the sodden ! moss, he crept behind Beard, and dealt him a heavy blow on the head. The big man reeled, and as his grip relaxed, Gilbert wriggled under his arm and darted into the bushes. ! The latter had not lost his nerve. He did not go far, for he felt the thick bushes and the darkness made him as safe as if he were a mile away. Besides, he wanted to avait developments, and, in any case, could not abandon Marston. Beard fell with a heavy grunt, and held his aching head in both hands. For a moment he could not realise what had happened. Marston's low chuckle brought him to his senses. He staggered to his feet with a savage growl. "Did you hit me?" he asked. "Was it you who stopped me just now when " [ (To] be Continued.)

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