The Scales of Justice

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8541, 23 September 1907, Page 2

The Scales of Justice

CHAPTER XXXV—Continued. "Oh dear no, that would never do. She would b?tray herself and me to a certainty. She must be an unconscious instrument. And unless lam greatly mistaken, Beard will fall into the net, I shall get my brother to see that Madame JRegnier comes into the drama. Still, we have plenty of time to mature our plans, as we can do nothing till Beard returns to the Moat House. Once back, we sball lose no time in putting the match to the powder." Flora looked into the keen, clever face of the speaker with a feeling that he would be as good as his word. Delamere has ceased to speak, for a footman had just come into the room with a telegram for Flora. She tore off the orange envelope, and her tones grew excited. *• "You have not long to wait," she said. "He is coming back this evening; h-j wants his bag packed, as business takes him to Paris in the morning." CHAPTER XXXVI. IN THE NET. It was shortly before dinner that Beard arrived, apparently in one of his worst moods. He seemed to have no eye for anybody but Winifred, and no courtesy for the rest of the household. The Delameres had disappeared ; they had gone off to take up their residence for the present at a neighbouring farmhouse, and Beard appeared to be relieved at the tidings. But he would have been less pleased if he had known what was going on. At the dinner-table he wa= moody and silent, and Flora watched him carefully. It was an anxious time, and Flora only played with her dinner. An experiment was to take place presently, and on that experiment depended the happiness of two lives.

"We hardly expected you back so soon," Flora remarked, by way of saying something. Beard came with a start out of his reverie, and his face lightened a little.

"Perhaps not," he said. "The fact is, I have been a good deal worried lately. Some impoi'tant discoveries of mine have become public proper;y sooner than I anticipated. I am being robbed both of credit and money. That is why I have to go to Paris."

Flora murmured her sympathy politely. She gave a quick, nervous glance in Winifred's direction, but the girl seemed to be serenely unconscious that anything important was in the air. -During the afternoon Winifred had been carefully coached to do certain things, and Flora was wondering if she would go too far. At the same time, her teachers had scrupulously refrained from telling her of the importance of her part. Still, it Teas an experiment, and there was just the suggestion of possible failure.

The meal dragged its slow length along, the servants vanished at last, and Beard took out his cigar case. Flora rose and glanced at Mary; the latter came across the room with a white face and lips that twitched a little. It was hard to play the hypocrite; before the man, to sit at table with him, and yet it was necessary if Gilbert Doyle was to be saved and Winifred's happiness assured. Winifred would have followed the others, but Beard detained her. "Don't go just ye|, my child," he said. "I have something to say to you." In ordinary circumstances the request would have conveyed nothing to the listeners. Beard frequently kept Winifred with him after the others had gone. But to-night it was different. The other two girls walked into the hall, where they jjaused, irresolute, as if they half expected to hear something from behind the closed door.

"I do hope and pray that it will be all right," Mary whispered. "I could eat nothing for thinking of it. If Winifred makes a false step." "My dear, she will do nothing of the kind," said Flora confidently. "The kind of lesson that Mr Delamere taught her was so simple. The idea of using Winifred in this way is not pleasant, but at the same time, it is fitting and retributive that she should become the instrument of Bernard Beard's downfall. Let us go to the drawing-room, and hope for the best."

Mary made some excuse, saying that ahe would follow presently. As a matter of fact, some fascination seemed to hold her close to the dining-room door. The butler :ame a mon-ent later, and left the door "open when he had finished. There was a hu.n of voices and the pungent drift of tobacco-smoke. Beard was talking quite gently to Winifred. Whatever the faults of that scoundrel, he was devoted to Winifred. And all the time he could see her suffer as she had done without diverting <; hair's breadth from the inflexibility > f his purpose. He was talking now uj a father might talk to a favourite child.

"You are better," he was saying, 'you are better than you have been since, um When my business ki Paris is finished, we will go to the sea for a, time —say, a Jong spell at Brighton. Do you remember that season at Brighton two years ago" "Perfectly," said Winifred, in her dainty new voice. "It came back to me yesterday. My poor father was with us then. Do you know, my memory is returning in the most marvellous way." Mary he!d her breath. The critical moment on which so much depended was at hand. And by pure good chance Beard was giving the girl the opening she desired, !

By FRED Xffi. WHITS,

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

"You mean it has ali come back to you?" Beard asked. There was a suggestion of eagerness in his voice. "Come, that is good hearing,. Winifred. You mean that everj thing is quite clear, like peals in a chord? What made you think of that?" "It was the red flower on the table," Winifred replied. The din-ner-table decorations were deep-red chrysanthemums. "I wondered what connection there was between something you once said to me and red flowers. It was something that you wished me to remember."

"Yes, yes!" Beard said. His voice sounded strained and hoarse to Mary. "What was it that I asked you to try tor enlember? Something to do with papers." "Yes," Winifred replied—"some papers and a luncheon party at the Alexandra."

The listener could hear Beard rise from his chair and pace up and down the room. Mary hoped he would not close the door. She had made up her mind to rush into the room 011 some pretext if Winifred betrayed any knowledge beyond- what it was suggested she should say. But Beard did not appear to notice the door. "My dear child,' I hope you are going to take a load off my mind," he said. "Those papers you mention are of vital importance. Without them I shall sson be on the brink of ruin, or worse than ruin. Think of the red flowers."

"I am thinking of them," Winifred said. She spoke like a child rejoicing in the full knowledge of some difficult lesson. "I can see the red flowers quite plainly, and the waiter with something the matter with his e>e. And I recollect that we had lobster cutlets for lunch." "Bravo!" Beard said. He spoke with enthusiasm, out his voice was shaking. "We are getting on quite famously. Do you remember what I gave you?" "Certainly I do. We had just taken our places and began lunch, when another man came and took a seat close by us. It might have been my fancy, of course, but it seemed to me that you did not like the look of the other man."

"I didn't," confirmed Beard. "He was a hated rival, you understand, capable of stealing my cherished secrets, and of doing me a mortal injury to get possession of them. Perhaps I was absurdly nervous, but I had been working very hard, and my nerves were unstrung. I felt that man was dogging my footsteps to rob me."

In spite of her anxiety, Mary could not repress a smile of contempt. The whole thing had fallen out exactly as Delamere had predicted. Before he had parted with the papers, Beard had been quite convinced that he was being followed by a detective, and his lively imagination had filled in the rest. Hence the transfer of the papers to Winifred. "That is the truth of the matter," Beard went on, in the way that we explain things to an intelligent child of 'tender years. He was fond of talking in that way to Winifred. "I was frightened. A great, big, strong man like me was frightened. But theo, I had a cunning man to deal with, who was capable of anything. And he was far cleverer than me. So, when somebody called him out, I passed those papers on to you. Say you recollect." Beard's tone had suddenly become almost beseeching. Mary could hear Winifred's little lautrh of pleasure. "I do remember," she said. "The sight of the red flowers on the table makes the recollection all the more vivid. Only, I'm glad I did not know of the danger at the time, or 1 should have been dreadfully frightened. I hid the papers in my fur." "You did! I knew they were quite safe in your hands and that the enemy would never suspect. And that same night you skipped away to Hastings, where I could not follow you because I was so busy. And then came your great misfortune, and your illness. I tried and tried to recall things to your memory, but it was all in vain. But we are moving from the question of the papers."

"I don't think I should be • able to tell you where I placed them but for an accident," Winifred said. "You see, it is over two years ago, and I attached no great importance to the matter. But when you sent me away from home ten days ago—why did you send me?" "That you will know all in good time," Beard said, caressingly. "Go on with your story." "Very well, doctor. When I went away from here I took the little red box. You know that I was always fond of the little red box."

Beard nodded. He had regarded the affection for the red box as a sign of Winifred's great mental weakness, a thing to be humoured. But now he grasped the situation. /To be Continued.)