The Scales of Justice.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8518, 24 August 1907, Page 2

The Scales of Justice.

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

CHAPTER XVIII.— Continued,

"Of course it was," Marston said coolly. "I couldn't sit there and watch murder done. I don't mind dying—in fact I shall be glad to die when the time comes —but I have the greatest possible objection to capital punishment, and you ought to be much obliged to me for saving you from the worst'crime." "Whereas 1 look upon you as a meddlesome fool!" Beard snarled. "Do you know who that fellow was? He was one of the Virginians. They lured me here by one of the most wickedly ingenious plots ever hatched in the brain of an arch-scoundrel. But that did not deceive me. I laid my plans to get the better of them. And when they separated I followed one of them, with the result that you saw. And now your foolish med dling " "Nothing of the kind," Marston interrupted curtly. "You have barked up the wrong tree, as they say in America. You've got Virginians on the brain. It*was no foreigner you tried to choke to death, bit a friend of mine, who came .to tike me home. I'm suffering irom a pretty bad attack now, and I had to send for assistance. Can't you see my pony close by?" Beard growled something about baing mistaken. So far the conversation conveyed little to Doyle, who sat listening in the bushes. The only point he could make out was that Beard seemed to know something about the Americans and the motorcar; or why did he speak of Virginians? There seemed to be a connection between the two. "Well, I'm sorry," Beard muttered. "I don't want a murder on my conscience if I can help it; and I certainly took your friend for one of those two. I tell you, they are he*e; I have sure information on the point. I was so startled by it that I had to put off a little surprise I had pre • pared for the authorities at Greystone." "I know," Marston nodded. "You were going to hand the escaped convict over to them. Do you know where he is?" "Far enough away by this time, I expect," Beard said moodily. "Why, the fellow was actually in my house." "Gilbert Doyle in your house! Sounds dramatic, doesn't it?" "How on earth did you know who the convict was?" Beard asked, in some surprise. "Well, you do know it, and there is an end of the matter. But I'm not worrying about Doyle at present. He can do no harm, and most of his spare time will be taken up in dodging the police. A man may get away from prison, he may have powerful friends, but he can't keep free for long, at least if he stays in this country. And if Doyle does not stay here, he cannot be the smallest trouble to me. Pah! I dismiss him altogether." Beard waved his hand contemptuously. Marston said nothing, so he went on again. " But those Virginians are quite another matter. They have found me out, as they were bound to do sooner or later. And my hands are tied. I can do nothing as they don't resort to personal violence. If I were to tell the police, they would only laugh at me. All I have to do is to watch and wait my time. I thought that I was hastening one of them out of the way to-night, but it seems that I was mistaken." "You are sure that they have left Paris?" Marston asked. "Oh," I'm quite certain 'about that! I went into Castleford directly I received your letter, and used the cable to Paris freely. Cost me £lO j to find out all I wanted. But they left Paris for London. After that, I can tell you nothing, except that they lured me hereabouts. I guessed what the game was, and did a bit of tracking on my own. And, seeing that you are in this thing almost as deeply as I am, I shall be glad of your assistance." There was a menace in the speaker's tones, but the implied threat did not seem to have any effect on Marston, so far as Gilbert Doyle could gather. He merely growled, and said he was not in a fit state to do any business that night. "You ckar out, and let me go .home," he said. "When you have gone I shall be able to call my poor assis'ant back. He'll be too frightened to show up till you're gone. And don't you cry out till you're hurt in future." "But I nearly got hurt," said Beard. "I saw one of the Virginians, and he saw me. 1 suppose I was not quite so cautious as I might have been. I expect one of the fellows spotted me by my size. Anyway, we had a struggle. When I heard the other one running, up, I broke away; but not before I had torn my man's off his back. One doesn't imagine things like that." "Perhaps not," Marston replied. "We'll talk the matter over some other time." I'm so racked with pain that I can't follow you. Gocd-night." Beard muttered something and went off into the darkness. Five minutes elapsed before Marston gave a little whistle, and Gilbert Doyje emerged from the bushes. "That was a narrow shave for you," the poacher said. "Fancy being tackied by the very last man you excect to see. It's a good thing I gave Beard that crack on the head." "Yes; I was pretty nearly done," Gilbert admitted. "If Beard had not spoken first I should probably have b3trayed my identity by calling for assistance. But I recognised those tones. The last time 1 heard them was on ' board ship, coming from South America. Our friend called himself Dr. something—the name I forget. If I had never met him, I sho-Id not bci here to-night. I

could only get to the bottom of that scoundrel's scheme " "Patience and you'll get to the bottom of it in time," Marston said. "The stars are fighting on your side now. Fortune has been against you, but she is going to smile again. Do you know that by your kindness tonight to me, a perfect stranger, you have enlisted as a friend the one man who can right everything? I have known Bernard Beard for years. I may as well admit at once—l have shared his rascally schemes. When he came to live down here, I followed. My disease prevented my getting a living in the old way, and I wanted to be near Beard, with a view to blackmailing h<"m if I needed money. As a matter of fact, I have not yet had occasion to do anything of the kind, though I have been pretty near it once or twice. As it is, I am going to help you." "To clear my character?" Gilbert said eagerly. "To set myself right before the world?" "Yes, yes; but it will take time. We have a clever man to deal with, how clever you will never know. Now hoist me on the pony." Marston was hoisted up with difficulty, and the pilgrimage through the woods began. Gilbert was surprised to hear a clock somewhere strike ten. It was less than an hour since he had set out on his errand, and it seemed ages ago. "You'll be in time to keep your appointment with Miss Cameron yet," Marston said, almost in a state of collapse. "And now, don't ask a lot of curious questions about the Virginians. Of course, you were close by and heard what was said. You have perhaps heard of the Corsican vendetta. Well, there is another kind of vendetta out yonder in the , Southern States that goes farther than anything the Ccrsican mind has ever thought of, and that you shall hear about in time." Gilbert Doyle asked no further questions. Besides it was cruel to bother a man so near death as Mars- j ton was. He clung to the neck of- j the pony, his face white and damp j with the pain he suffei ej. Gilbert slipped the slide of the lantern round, so that he could pick out even places j in the ride for the pony to walk on. . He came at length to the spot where | the motor-car had been pushed into he ditch; he flashed the lantern for a second on that spot. The powerful Mercedes was no longer to be seen. Still Gilbert said nothing. He was going to keep this information to himself. After all, he had no kind of guarantee of Marston's good faith. The man, on his own confession, had been a scoundrel. A little farther, and the grass was trampled down; it was evidently the scene of Beard's first struggle. Something bright on, the grass caught Gilbert's eye. As the pony passed along he stooped and examined the shining disc in the light of the lantern. Then he whistled softly to himself as he pocketed the metal. "I think this may be useful to me," he muttered. "At any rate, it 1 is a clue to go by." The shining disc of metal was an American twenty-dollar gold piece! CHAPTER XIX. AT THE COTTAGE. Gilbert Doyle would have been puzzled to explain why he had said nothing to Marston as to the finding of the gold coin, but so it was. After his sufferings it was not for him to give his confidences to everybody, and he did not see why he should make an exception in favour of the poacher. And yet Marston had given a promise to help him when the time :ame. "I'll get off the pony now," the latter said, drawing a deep breath. "The pain is getting better. I wonder at times why the agony of it does not drive me mad. Ah, that is as sweet as a foretaste of Paradise!" Marston staggered to his feet, and held his head up iike a diver who has been under water for a long time. The knitted lines of his face relaxed, his breath came like a sob. It was wonderful how quickly the strong man recovered. "Is it is bad as that?" Doyle asked, with a sympathy impossible to withhold. "Bad? Well, that is a poor word for it. It is the refinement of agony. I wonder how far I could go without dying of the pain. It is always there in some form or other, better or worse, but it is always there to torture me. It is only when lam on one of my mid-night expeditions that I can forget it altogether. That is partly why I am a poacher." "It seems to me to be a purposeless, rather cowardly life," Gilbert said. (To be continued.)