The Scales of Justice

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8534, 12 September 1907, Page 2

The Scales of Justice

CHAPTER XXIX.— Continued. "Sybil told me that," Flora whispered. "Oh, I cannot say how glad 1 am! And Sybil so nicely about it, too! She is a good girl, George." "Ye?, I hope that she will have a good busbar.d some day. There is one man who has waited faithfully for a long time, only Cardrew came along and the old love vanished. But it is early days to talk about that. So long as you are with me - r, "Of course 1 am," > Flora said. "I have always been. Did I not know fro'i the very first that you were the victim of a hideous mistake? Did I not deem you innocent when all the world was against you? And now I am going to have my reward." "And lam going to have my reward also, dearest." Flora looked up at the frosty sky, and then down at the brown dead leaves at her feet. She was not in the least embarrassed—a pure joy shone in her eyes. "Yes." she said simply. "When you said that you ioved me my heart told me that I loved you in return. I did not know till you spoke and then it seemed to me as if the whole thing had been arranged long ago. I lovs you. George. I could not say more than that if I had the most eloquent tongue in the world at my command." ane held out her two hands to him, and he took her in his arms and kissed her lips. They had forgotten the world and all its troubles in that blissful moment. It was some time before they came out into the high road again, where they parted without arriving at any decison as to what they had . better do in the case j of. Winifred. As George took his way back in the direction of Grange Cour'", he found himself face to face with one of the Virginian 1 ". The latter paused and | addressed George with a certain oldworld politeness. His face was grave and set; therswas a grim expression about the mouth that denoted trouble ftr somebody. "j.ou will excuse me, Captain Drumrnond," he said, "but may 1 have a few words with you? My name is Delamere. lam staying for the present at the Moat House." "With your brother," George said. "What can I do for you?" " Well, in the first place, I may ask you a few questions. You were at Breckland Lodge last night, at the residence of Mrs Dunlop-Gordon. Mrs Dunlop-Gordon has another name, but perhaps you may not be aware of that." "If you mian Madame Regnier, I may say that the; name is no new one to me." "Very good," Delamere smiled. "I see you know a great deal. .'To bt candid, I am having the house yonder watched and that is why I knew ihat you were there last night. <. presume your visit there had something to do with the man who cails himself Captain Cardrew. It is surprising what a number of our acquaintances seem to have two names is it not? Did you see anything of the young lady called JVinifred Cawdor?"

George staggered before the question. He was disposed to say rothing. Delarnere seemed to understand what was passing in his mind. "I see I shall have to be still more frank with you," he said. "The young lady I am speaking of is known generally as Miss Winifred Cawdor. The paternity of Miss Mary Cawdor I do not question —that she honest'y deems Miss Winifred to be her sister is obvious. But that is not our point of view or belief. We regard Miss Winifred as Bernard Beard's child." "In which I am sure you are absolutely wrong," said George, recalling vividly the story that Marston had told to Gilbert Doyle of tha borrowing of the Cawdor child to save the worthless husband of Ada Delarnere. "Beard has deceived you. 1 He is deceiving you still, so as to save his neck from your vengeance." "So we begin to believe," Delarnere went on. '"But that man would beat the cleverest lawyer that ever lived. We begin to have our doubts, and just at the moment when the truth is likely to come to light Miss Winifred vanishes. Her disappearance is so convenient to Beard that we had our We did not quite believe in the suicide business. It would pay Beard to get Miss Winifred out of the way for a time. He must have her somewhere near. Where then, a more convenient place than the reside/ice of his old associate, Madame Regnier? When we saw you there last night it occurred to us' that you had a hand in the mystery, but a few questions have dissiuated that idea. Did you see anything?'' "Before I answer that question I urn going to soeak plainly to you," George said. "I know why you are here; I know what you came for. I deeply sympathise with your prejudices, and can imagine your anger and grief over tin way that scoundrel Beard treated ir sister. But vengeance is no lTio.o yours that it is min6 or any other man's. In my eyes your are no more than a pair of coldblooded murderers. When I think how you are planning and scheming this thing, how you have nursed your wrath to keep it warm all these years, I have hardly the patience to •stand here and talk co you. 'Venge- j ance is Mine,' God says, 'I will repay.' Oh, it is such a cowardly thing!" "You arc wrong," Delameve said, without the slightest emotion. "Nor is it possible l'or you to look at things from our point of view. What W3 came originally for does not matter. I may say that Beard's skin is safe so far as we are concerned. We have discovered how the

By FRED M. WHITE,

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

land lies; we have thought of a way to strike Beard a blow that will be worse thnn death, whether his story is true or noc. And now, can you tell me anything of Winifred Cawdor?" "I can," George replied. "I believe your word as to Beard. I saw Miss Winifred last night quite by accident. She is detained at Breckland Lodge." CHAPTER XXX. THE ARMS OF HER LOVER. The Virginian bowed and thanked George warmly. He hinted that he was going to take the matter into his own hands, and George could see no objection to that course. Let the strangers fight Beard in their own way: At any rate, that wouldprevent Beard from/inding out that his own household were conspiring against him in this matter. £ "You have met me very fairly," Delamere said. "And I have to thank you sincerely. Whether Beard's story is true or not matters very little. We shall find a way to prove it or disprove it. Meanwhile, the circumstance had better be forgotten. I am walking to Breckland Lodge now. The poor girl is pretty weli at the end of her troubles." It was still early when the Virginian arrived at Breckland Lodge, and Mrs Dunlop-Gordon w«iS not yet ready to receive visitors, to which Delamere responded coolly that he was prepared to wait. He pushed his way into the house and seated himr.elf in the drawing-room. An hour passed, but he gave no sign of impatience. His dogged, resolute face never changed; it was as still and sphinx-like as Madame Regnier came into the room resplendent in lace and blue satin. She swept a kind of halfmocking curtsey to her visitor. "Really, I am honoured!" she cried. "This is twice that you have , come here in a few hours. Is there I anything I can do for you, David | Delamere?" "Yes. you can do a great deal for me, Madame Regnier." the other responded. "For instance, you can tell the truth. I have no doubt that the effort will be a trying one, but a clever woman like you might easily accomplish a more difficult task than that." The woman laughed as she settled herself in a chair. It was no use • to pose before a man who was thoroughly acquainted with her chequered past. "You were always candid," she said. "What can I do for you this time?" "You can tell me where to find Winifred Cawdor. She was brought here at dusk last night in charge of a nurse, and I expect you had the nurse waiting for her. She was sent here by Dr. Beard, with instructions that her presence in the house was j to be kept secret. I want to take the [ girl away with me." "And if I say that you are entirely mistaken, David Delamere?" ■'Then I should be under the painful necessity of disbelieving what you said. We know that the child came here yesterday; she was seen here last night. What is the use of trying to lie to me in this manner? Falsehoods will do you no good whatever." "Softly, softly," Madame Regnier laughed. "There is nothing to be gained by this heat. I have not yet said that Winifred Cawdor has not been in this house. But lam going to ask you to believe that she is not in the house now." "You mean that you have sent her away when I came, guessing my errand?"

"Nothing of the kind. I never expected to find that you knew so much. To_be candid, it "'as rather a shock to learn that you had followed our movements so closely. But Winifred Cawdor is not in the house now. She has vanished." "You mean to say that she has run away?" "You can put it that way, if you please. She passed a very bad night, so the nurse said, and did not sleep at all. I should say that the poor girl was subject to these bad nights. The nurse knew nothing of her charge, not even her name. She thought that she had come to look after a relative of mine whose intellect was weak. She came to me at nine o'-.-lock today, and said that her charge was sleeping peacefully at last. She asked if she could go to the village, and. of course, I said 'Yes.' When she came back the patient had vanished. Nobody saw her leave the house; nobody knows where she has gone." The woman was obviously speaking the truth. Delamere was not going till lie had seen the nurse, and he said so. The nurse came m, upset and anxious; there was no kind of collusion. Her replies to Delamere's questions were frank and plain. She had deemed her patient to be safe for some hours, and now "she had vanished, taking with her nothing but a shabby old jewel-case which she seemed to prize much as a child cherishes a rag doll in preference to more expensive toys. The little jewel-case was locked, and the key had been lost. It contained nothing, so far as the nurse knew. (To be continued.)