The Scales of Justice

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8524, 31 August 1907, Page 2

The Scales of Justice

By FRED M. WHITE, [Puelished By Special Arrangement.] [A.ll Eights Reserved.]

CHAPTER XXll.—Continued. They stood there for same time in silence, looking out into the night, "rescnlly a -ervant came up and addressed Beard by name. A gentleman had called to pee him. He was in one of the smaller rooms oft the grand corridor. The footman thought that he was Captain Cardrew. "I will come and see him immediately," Beard said, controlling himself . with a great effort. "Say that Twill be there at once. I hope there is nothing serious, too. Good gracious what has happened to bring CaDtain Cardrew here to the very house where Miss Drummond is a guest? If she should happen to see him!" "Go and ascertain what has happened," Madame Regnier saidi "And try to look a little more like yourself. From your apearance, you might be a criminal struggling in the net of the police. If you only knew how grey and old you appear to-night!" Beard made an effort to smile, but the effect was ghastly. He moved off in the direction of the grand corridor with limbs that seemed to bend under him. He was suffering from a kind of paralysis caused by fear and fright. Madame Regnier's arm through his was a real assistance to him. The footman stood before one of the doors. "The gentleman is in here, sir," he said. "1 was correct in saying Captain Carcraw." iieard and his companion passed into the perfectly-appointed little room, and closed the door behind them. They were not conscious of the flowers or the shaded lights; the works of art and the old furniture were lost on them. All they could see was the white face of Ronald Cardrew staring at them in the yellow glow of the room. "Bird of ill-omen," Beard croaked, "speak out! Have you done anything extra foolish, or is there real danger for us tonight?" "Danger enough," Cardrew whispered. "The Virginians are here. When 1 say here I mean that they are at Breckland Lodge. 1 saw them." "At the Lodge!" Madame Regnier exclaimed. "Waiting for me—for us?" "As true as I say the words," Cardrjw went on. "Ah, well after all the hones';, God-fearing man has the best of us poor wretches! I wish to Heaven — but it is too lata for that! If I had never seen your evil face, Beard " "A truce to" your maunderings," Beard cried passionately. "Tell me everything." '"There is very little to tell. The Virginians came up in a motor-car as if the place belonged to them. They asked for you, Madame, and decided to wait. They did not see me, and I was in a position to listen. They are going to slay till you return." "Then I had better return at once," Madame Regnier cried. She Jwas by far the coolest and most collected of the three. "Better a danger that is open and in sight than one that you cannot see. Go and order my carriage round here without delay, Ronald. We can slip away without any fuss or bother. Ask uiie of the men to call Mrs Gordon Dunlop's carriage." Without further speech Cardrew left the room. With his head down ne hurried along the corridor past many people who were there taking the air. He looked like what he intended to represent—a guest who was in search of his conveyance. There was just the risk of being recognised by some visitor who had met him at Grange Court. "Ronald," a faint voice cried suddenly, "is it possible that you are here? Oh, Ronald, if you only knew how glad lam to see you! Did you intend this for a delightful surprise, or Why don't you soeak to me, Ronald?" Cardrew swallowed down a furious execration The greatest misfortune of them all had happened just at the time when there were misfortunes enough and to spare. This was the last thing desirable. Cardrew looked up into the pretty, pathetic face of Sybil Drummond with a blank expression. He had made up his mind what to do at any cost. "I am afraid there is some mistake here," he -said. "I am not Ronald—in fact, that is not my name at all. A -hance likeness, perhaps. Will you excuse me?" The voice was cold and formal; .■there as no dropping of the thick mask from Cardrew's face. He pushed on, leaving Sybil standing there clutching at her heart as if she had some great physical pain stabbing her. That was Ronald she felt sure. But he had denied himself to her —he was cold and distant. In a confused way the photograph that Sybil had seen at the Moat House flashed across her mind. She walked like one who dreams out into the open air, all exposed as she was to the weather. She wondered if she would wake presently, and find that it was some evil dream. In the same state of coma she saw Cardrew with Madame Regnier and Btard drive away. Then she laid her head upon the parapet of the terrace and dry sobs choked her. "Sybil," a man's voice said in her ear—"Sybil, what is the matter with you'.'" "George," the girl moaned, "my bead is on fire. I can't think. For I have just seen Ronald in the flesh there, and he denied his own identity. He walked past me as if he had never seen me before. George —George —-what does it all mean?" "I don't know," George said between his teeth; "but I shall find out before I sleep to-night."

CHAPTER XXIII. THE SHADOW OF A DOUBT. The great clock in the hall at Grange Court struck the hour of nine as, punctual as the timepiece itself. ' Sir Devereux Drummond came down to breakfast. He was not looking so bent and haggard as usual; there was a speculative look in his eyes and a puzzled frown on his forehead. He inquired of Watson why Miss Sybil was not down. A touch of the old commanding ring had come back into Sir Devereux's voice. "Miss Sybil is not at all well, Sir Devereux," Watson replied. • The faithful old servant was delighted to see signs of the master in his employer once more. "I was to say that she had a very bad headache." "Headache!" Sir Devereux repeated. "Bless me, I never heard of such a thing btfore. Your mistress never had such complauts. I hope it's nothing wrong Watson Nothing catching and all that. Better send for Dr. Gordon, eh?" "I don't think so, sir," Watson replied.., "Merely a headache, I expect. I noticed that Miss Sybil looked very bad when she came back last night. She said that you were not to -wait breakfast for her." Sir Devereux shook his head as he attacked the kidneys and bacon. Really, he told himself he had quite a good appetite this morning. He had never expected to have anything of the kind again. As he despatched his breakfast, he read more than once a letter which he had found waiting for him the night before. It was a letter from an old comrade, a man holding a high position in the War Office, and the contents gave him food for thought. The letter gave him hope, too, which was better than anything else. "I can't make top or tail of it," he muttered. "Why is Norton so mysterious? Why does he not .speak plainly if he knows anything? Certain facts have come to hand in connection with a recent affair on the Indian frontier which put a different complexion on a matter that concerns my family honour! lam to suspend judgment for the present. If that means anything, it metns that George has been misjudged. If that is so, ;I shall never be abb to look the boy in the face ' again. And £ yet, and yet " Despite a certain feeling of shame and remorse, Sir Devereux was conscious of a glow at his heart that seemed to tak« twenty years off his life. If George were not guilty, as the letter seemed to imply, then Grange Court would carry no shame after the death of its present owner; Sir Devereux looked round the room to the old familiar objects and away across the landscape to the distant hills. Well, if he were compelled to make amends to George it should be done in no half-hearted manner. Therefore Sir George enjoyed his breakfast in a way that he had not done for some time. He was restless and eager, a little anxious, too, when Watson came in an hour after and handed him the dingy blue envelope that contained a cable message The baronet's fingers shook a little as he tor ait open. He flashed his eyes along the few words, and his face grew deadly pale. Watson's jaw had fallen; he wondered what new catastrophe was here. He had rarely seen his master more moved than he was now. I "Don't say that anything else is wrong, Sir Devereux," the old man almost pleaded. "As for me, you'll never get me to believe that Master George, that I taught as a boy to " "No, no, Watson," Sir Devereux said huskily. "It isn't that at all. There are some joys that shake one to the soul as much as a great sorrow. I have been very wrong, my faithful old triend. You never told any of the servants that Mr George came home " "The other night! Not rae, sir. I should be ashamed to have done so. There's been no talk in the servants' hail, or anywhere else. Because why? Because I know that it was all a mistake, and we should see Master George in his place again, and you as proud of him as you were used to be. And that telegram's to say as it is a mistake." "Yes," Sir Devereux replied. An absolute lump rose in his throat and seemed to choke him. "It is exactly what you say. This is from my old friend, Grantley Courtenay, the Colonel of Mr George's regiment. He says, 'Cruel injustice has been done to the boy. Am writing full details by this mail.' There, Watson, what do you think of that?" Watson intimated with a sniff that his opinion had never varied from the first. He was still talking when Sybil came into the room. She was very white and shy, the sunny smile ■ had gone from her face altogether. With a delicacy that would have done credit to better-born men, Watson slipped from the room. (To be continued.)