The Scales of Justice

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8533, 11 September 1907, Page 2

The Scales of Justice

[A-ll Rights Reserved.]

CHAPTER XXVIII.—Coi tinued. The paper was handed over at length. Once it was done, Cardrew's head fell forward on his hands, ind his shoulders heaved with some deep emotion. George touched him, but he made nr> response. "Go away," he said harshly, go away. Do vou suppose I don't feel because I happen to be a coward and a liar? Go. and leave me in peace. I daresay vou can find your way out of the house. Only leave me, and never let me see your face again!" . George said no more, for words would have been out of place. Silentlv he left the room and his feet niade no noise as he proceeded down the stairs. He could hear voices some-where-one a pure treble, the other heavier, but soothing kindly. Then a door opened and a girl came out followed by somebody in the garb of a nurse. "It's all right, dearie!" the latter said. "Have a little patience, and I'll go and find her for you!" "I want my sister!" the girl said piteously. "If I could only have my George started and rubbed his eyes. Here was another and more startling phase of the mystery. It was easy to recognise the white, innocent, beautiful features of the girl in the corridor. He was almost face to face with Winifred Cawdor!

CHAPTER XXIX. THE NEXT MOVE. George paused for a moment to make quite sure there was no mistake. The light on the landing was shining full on the face of the girl, and then all doubts were set at rest. Beyond question he was looking at Winifred Cawdor; he haci seen that prettv. Bathetic face in such strange circumstances that he was not likely to forget it. .... , c . But what was the girl doing? bne seemed to be well treated—the nurse spoke in the kindest and most patient manner—and yet Winifred's voice was pathetic as she asked for her sister! It was evident to George that Mary Cawdor was not here, and that she could not know where Winifred was. He would have liked to gain speech with the nurse, but he thought better of the idea. The suggestion of forcible interference, too, crossed his mind, but this he dismissed with hardly a second thought. A process of that kind might be playing into the hands of Bernard Beard, who had had the girl conveyed here for some rmrpose. He crept downstairs and let himself out of the house. He rode quietly along with the confession in his pocket; he was feeling at peace with all mankind. He was in a position to hold up his head again, he could ask Flora to share his life with him with no anxiety as to the future. But, at the same time, George remembered that much had to be done first.

In the morning he would see Flora, and tell her of the discovery he had made at Breckland Lodge. Doubtless, she would be able to throw some light on the mystery. It was fairly late by the time George reached Grange Court, and Sir Devereux and Sybil had gone to bed. Well, he would have some good news for them in the morning, George thought. As a matter of fact,, it was Sybil who opened the budget of news first. She looked a little pale and anxious as she came into the breakfast room, where the morning sun was streaming on the plate and silver and the red chrysanthemums in the old Venetian glasses. George kissed his sister a littie more tenderly than usual. He was intensely happy himself; he felt a little ashamed of his bliss in the sight of Sybil's sorrow. "Don't fret about it, Sybil," he said; "the fellow is not worth it! Try to be grateful that you have found him out in time." "It's not that," Sybil replied. "Oh, I am brave enough as far as my trouble is concerned! lam not going to pretend that all the sunshine has gone out of my life; I do not propose to believe that all men are deceivers because I have made a mistake. It is this distressing business about Winifred Cawdor that grieves me!" "Winifred Cawdor!" George exclaimed; "what has happened to her?" "Have you not heard? They were talking about it in the servants' hall last night. The poor child is supposed to have drowned herself in the river yesterday afternoon. Her hat was found by the stream and the boots she had removed from her feet. They were searching the river all night, but, I hear, without effect." It occurred to George that he might have saved all this trouble and anxiety had he thought about it. But ■would not the proclaiming of his discovery give Beard a chance to retrieve his position. Surely it would be enough to 'at Mary Cawdor and Flora know thai. '-Mnifrcd was safe? At any rate, Ui re would be no harm in telling Sybil. "This is more mystery 01 the part of Bernard Beard," he said. "It was like his cleverness to place the hat and boots beside the stream and give the idea of' suicide, so that no unpleasant enquiries might be made elsewhere. It was all the more clever because the river runs fast at the turn of the tide, and a body lost there .might not be found for weeks. But ' Winifred Cawdor has not committed suicide." "You aro quite sure of that, George?" Sybil cried. "Absolutely! I saw Winifred Cawdor last night in the house of the woman who calls herself Mrs Dun-Jop-Gordon, who realiy is the Madame

By FIEB Iff. WHITE,

[Published 2By Special Arrangement.]

Regnier that made all the mischief so far as Gilbert Doyle was concerned. It was pure accident. I received information that Ronald Cardrew was hiding ii. that woman's house, and I went there to see him and force a confession from him. I don't want to give you pain, Sybil, but it is necessary to allude to that man for a moment. I had some difficulty in getting to him, but I managed it at length, and the confession was written in his private room upstairs." "Did—did he take it very badly?". Sybil faltered; "At the last, he did. He tried to deny his identity to begin with; but when he saw that I knew he was Flora Cameron's half brother, he gave in. He was very contrite at the end—so much so that I left him to his trouble and made rny way downstairs again. Then it was that I had an opportunity of seeing Winifred Cawdor without anybody el&e in the house knowing it." "Oh, George, I do hope the poor girl is being well treated!" Sybil cried. "I fancy you can make your mind easy on that score. Whatever Beard's other faults may be, he i* devotedly j attached to Winifred Cawdor. I | should say that the child is being j treated just as well &\ Breckland Lodge as she was at Moat House. For some reason, Beard wanted her out of the way for a time, and this is the method he has adopted. 1 want you to run over to the Moat House after breakfast to see if there is any news, an 3, incidentally, to ask Flora to meet me in the woods at the back of the house. I cculd not go myself." Sybil gave the promise cheerfully. On the whole, it was by no means an unhappy breakfast table that morning, though, as yet, George had said nothing to Sir Devereux as to the confession he had in his pocket. He did not desire to speak of that in the presence of Sybil-. i From time to time the girl was grave and silent, apparently en- i grossed in painful thoughts. But she put herself aside now, like the good girl she was, in the interests of others. Breakfast was barely done before Sybil was on her way to the Moat House. "I think you will be interested in that, sir," George said quietly, as he I laid the confession on the table. "It closes a very painful incident in my favour." Sir Devereux put on his glasses, and read the confession two or three times. He seemed to have something the matter with his glasses, for he wiped them more than once. When he spoke at last, his voice was husky. "Curt, but quite to the point," he said. "My word, how we were all deceived in that man! He does not seem to feel what he has done in the least, George!" "You are mistaken there, sir!" George replied. "As a matter of fact, there is more good in the man than you imagine. He is a coward because he sees too far ahead. And I. did not want the confession to be

any more florid. Of course, the thing j will get into the papers. Cardrew will be dismissed from the service, and for Sybil's sake, the fewer details the better. After all is said and done, Sybil has suffered a greater wrong than I have." "Quite right, my boy, and spoken like yourself," Sir Devereux said warmly.' "And I was quite wrong; I should have trusted you before anybody. I ought to have taken your word for it that you were innocent. If you can ever forgive me " Tne old man turned away, pallid with a mingled pru'e and shame that left him incapable of words. There was nothing to forgive, George declared. In the circumstances. Sir Devereux could have come to no other conclusion. George strolled from the room with a suggestion that the incident was closed, and that there was no occasion to allude to it again j His thoughts were pleasant as he I walked down the woods at the back i of the Moat House to meet Flora. [ She came a few minutes later: there was a flush on her face and a glad brightness in her eyes. I "Sybil has told me everything," | she said. "We discovered last night that Winifred had not been guilty of | that dreadful thing, and the knowI ledge was a great comfort to us. I And so you are in a position to tell us j where Winifred is to be found. What | a lucky thing you went to see Captain Cardrew last night!" "Well, perhaps there is a hotter word than luck for thece things," George smiled gravely. "The hand of Providence is behind us, Flora. I firmly believe that I was led to Breckland Lodge last night by the Power that moves us. 1 am in a position to frustrate Beard's further ! schemes and prove my innocence at I the same time."