The Scales of Justice

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8526, 2 September 1907, Page 2

The Scales of Justice

CHAPTER XXlll.—Continued. i "My Hear child," Sir Devereux ' said, ""wlr.it is the matter with you? ■ i never saw you so pule and ill be- . fore. Nothing wrong, I hope? No \ lover's quarrel with Cardrew, or anything oi that kind. My dear, I ur.i sorry to upset you. Tears, too. Bless ' Hie!'' Sir Devereux fumed round Sybil •with a certain womaniy solicitude. He was going to charm the tears away, he said. He had had some wonderfully good news, first from the War Office" and now from his friend, Grantley Courtenay, the Colonel of George's regiment. "As a matter of fact, George is not guilty of the accusation made against him/' he said. "You can read the cablegram for yourself. And if George is not guilty, why " The speaker paused, and a flush of colour tinged his cheeks. The inference was quite plain. If George's honour remained unstained, then what of that of Ronald Cardrew? Sybil herself had raised the same point that fatal night when it looked as if George was leaving the home of his ancestors for ever. "It is quite plain what you mean," Sybil said wearily. "If George is innocent, then Ronald Cardrew is the coward who caused the mischief. And Colonel Courtenay must have been very sure of hi" ground before he sent that cablegram. I am glad for George's s*ke, and I am sorry for my own. Thank God, I have learnt the truth in time!" "But, my dear, you have not yet learnt the truth," Sir Devereux protested. "Let us try to be fair. Do not allow your woman's instinct to carry you too far. When you see Cardrew " "1 have seen Ronald Cardrew," Sybil said. "I saw him last night." "You saw him last night! My dear, my dear! He is with his regiment in India." "No, uncle. Ronald is here. It was a dreadful thing altogether. And I have been awake all night thinking about it. Ronald was not in my mind at all. I had just been sitting, and I walked along the corridor for a little fresh air. And then I saw Ronald. £He hadjan overcoat on; evidently he had come in to find somebody. And just for the moment I was thf happiest girl in the world. It seemed to me that Ronald had planned a happy surprise for me. You can imagine how I flew towards him; how my heart—but we need not go into that. Fortunately there was nobody in the corridor to see what was taking place. He looked me full in the face without the faintest sign of recognition. He told me quite coolly he was not Ronald Cardrew at all, and he passed me as if I had been a stranger." "Bless my soul," Sir Devereux burst out. "Amazing! Extraordinary! My dear child, you were'perhaps deceived by some marvellous likeness. Such things have happened." "No, there could not be any mistake. He started violently when I called him by name. If he had not been Ronald Cardrew, why should he do that? Just for an instant his face turned black with passion and mortification; then he grew blank and stolid. He did not expect to see me there; he did not desire that I should know he was in England. But it was impossible to deceive me; the colour of his eyes, the suggestion of red in his moustache, the little speck ■ of gold in one of his front teeth." Sir Devereux paced the floo~ with rapid strides. The honour of the family was at stake. It was impossible that any man could be permitted to treat a Drummond in this way. "Have you any idea where this — this man is to be found?" he asked. "Yes; I learnt that before we came away. I was so upset that I went on the terrace to recover myself. A little time afterwards I saw Ronald drive away with Mrs Dunlop-Gordon. Uncle, you will do nothing rash!" "I think that you can safely leave everything in my hands," Sir Devereux said sharply. "Of course, there may be some explanation of this outrageous conduct. I shall make a point of calling on Mrs Dunlop-Gor-don his af tternoon, and seeing Captain Cardrew. In the old days a man would have been shot for less than this." "Then I am thankful we do not live in the old days," Sybil smiled unsteadily. "My dear uncle, I beg that there will be no talk of any kind, nothing that people can get hold of. It is hard enough to bear it as it is; it is a dreadful thing to think that a girl has given her heart and all her affections tc a scoundrel. That some villainy is going on here I feei certain. If only I could see Goorge again. Last night " "Oh, then ycu did see George last night. Plv was r.'jt at the duchess' da::ce." Sybil proceeded to explain. She had hardly finished before the door of the breakfast room opened, and Watson announced Captain George Drummond. The old in.-, 's head was erect. Ho tried to speak '< if he were announcing an ordinav, <;uest, but the tears were in his eyes and his voice failed him utterly at the finish. "I was bound to come, sir," George said coldly. "I have a message Sybil. When I have delivered that 1 will go as soon as you like." "No, no!" Sir Drummond cried. "Sybil has told all about last night's affair. George, my boy, lam afraid that I have made a dreadful mistake. I have heard from Morton at the War Office, and, in addition, a'cable'message has just arrived for your colonel. He says —well, he says, in effect, that you are innocent!" "I think that was, in effect, my own view of the situation, sir,"j George responded. | "My dear boy, you must not speak'

By FRED M- WHITE,

[Published By Special Arrangement.] [All Eights Beseryed.]

to me like that," Sir Devereux murmured. There was a deep humility about him that George had never seen before. "I was proud of you—perhaps I was a little too proud of you, for Courtenay's letter was a bitter blow to me. You refused to speak, to sav anything in your defence, and I turned you out of the house like the hard-hearted wretch that I was. But I felt it, George; God only knows how I felt it" George held out his hand instantly, and the two stood for a moment locking into each other's eyes. "Don't let the thing be mentioned again," George sard. "You see, the guilt lay between myself and another. 1 could not accuse Sybil's lover to her face: I onb suspected. The thing will have to be threshed out by a court of inquiry. And whilst lam still, so to speak, on probation, it will be as well for me to remain in London. I came down here because Fate had dragged me into another matter concerning the happiness of more than one person. But we need not go into that. The real cause of my visit here to-day is to tell Sybil that Ronald Cardrew is staying at Breckland Lodge with Mrs DunlopGordon." "I have taken the matter in my hands," Sir Devereux proclaimed. | "I shall call there to-day, and insist upon a proper explanation." George shook his head sorrowfully, and stole a glance at Sybil. She. caught the pitiful expression of her brother's face, and her cheeks flushed. "I do not think altogether I am an object of pity," she said. "It might have boen worse. I might have been his wife. Girls have surmounted more bitter trials than this." Sybil spoke bravely, but she could not keep the scalding tears from her eyes. Her head ached, she said; she found the atmosphere of the house insupportable. She would go for a walk. Her life had been so free from care and happy in the past that the sorrow seemed to overcome everything. And yet Sybil only needed this to bring put all the goodness of her nature. The trouble would purify the gold, and remove the dross of passion and selfishness. She resolved to fight the thing down, to prove to George that she was worthy of his affection —to be a little more like Flora Cameron, in fact. And as Sybil came to this determination, &he looked up from the damp, leaf-strewn lawn into the face of the very girl she was thinking about. "I declare that you are uppermost in my thoughts!" she cried. "May I speak to you, Miss Cameron? I had a great shock last night" "I know," said Flora, with a tender sympathy infinitely soothing. "Your brother told me. It was the man who calls himself Ronald Cardrew. I have his photograph at home. It was very nearly the means of producing a quarrel between us. I told you that he was not Ronald Cardrew, and I told you the truth." "Will you be so good as to tell me a little more?" Sybil asked. "I think I will tell you everything. You were bound to know sooner or later. Ronald Cardrew is a half brother of mine, my mother's son by her first husband. His name is Lancaster —John Lancaster. Almost from a boy he was a constant source of trouble. His debts were paid for him over and over again, but he never cared so long as he had his selfish pleasures. And then he did something that brought him within the grip of the law." "Oh," Sybil cried, "what an escape I have had! I might have become his wife."

"You probably would have done so." Flora replied. "He disappeared; he went to South Africa. And there his chance came. I presume he changed his name to Ronald Cardrew. He joined the Imperial Yeomanry, and obtained a commission. Mind you, we only heard this by accident! It seemed as if he changed his life altogether, and we were glad. He came home, but never near us. He stayed with you, and we were none the wiser. Perhaps he loved you. I will not say that it was not so; but I am sure that he loved money more. But he was ever a coward, every ready to find some way of laying the blame on others, as he had done in the case of your brother. But you have found his out —indeed, it would have been my duty to speak in any case. The pain is sharp, but it will save you from a fate worse than death itself." "You may be disposed to blame me for my reticence," Flora went on; "but I never guessed, I never knew, anything till you showed me that portrait, and asked me who it was. And I said it was not Ronald Cardew, in which I said no more than the truth. You see, for years I had been hoping against hope, It was always possible that John Lancaster had reformed. The mere fact that he had obtained a commission in the Army and appeai'ed to be doing well pointed to that conclusion. When you told me that he was engaged to you the shock was very painful; but I decided not to say anything. I was going to watch the progress of events." (To be Continued.)