The Scales of Justice

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8545, 27 September 1907, Page 2

The Scales of Justice

CHAPTER XXXVlll.—Continued. "A very good thing that jour plan failed," sai:t Marston. "Mind, I don't sav that it is not a good plan, but after what Mr Doyle and myself saw and heard to-night, I fancy that I shall have r.o difficulty in suggesting a better." The Delamercs listened to Marston's story. They professed themselves to be more than satisfied with the turn of event?. They would have to alter their scheme. For a .little time both smoked their cigarettes in silence. "You say that madame has the bonds, and lhac she is going to send them to London by Ronald Cardrew to-night. The name is really not Ronald Cardrew, as you know; but let that pass ft<r the present moment, as that is the alias by which most people recognise the gentleman. He is going to take the bonds to London, j and it is pretty clear that he has somebody willing to take them off his hands." "That is so," Marston observed. "The name of the man was mentioned." » "Oh, indeed!" David Delamere chuckled. "The actual name was mentioned! Ido hope that it did not escape your memory, for. that is important." "You may be quite easy on that score," Marston went on. t "The name is Isaac Barry. I made a particular nots of it, because I had an idea that the information would b.e valuable." _ Delamere chuckled again. . seemed to be pleased with something. He proceeded to ask a few more questions, especially" if Marston and Gilbert had any idea when Cardrew was going to London., Marston. was also able to afford information on that point. "Splendid," David Delamere re-plied—-"perfectly splendid. Your effete criminal laws do not permit you to do certain things in this country, but we are going to have our own legislation on this occasion. We shall be able to dispense with your valuable services for the moment, Martson, but Mr Doyle we shall require. Let us go and find a dry ditch somewhere, where we can smoke cigarettes till ten o'clock. We are free till then."

"Why ten o'clock?" Gilbert asked.

"Ten o'clock, my friend, is about the hour that Cardrew leaves Grove House on his way to London. He thirks he is going to London tonteht, but in that respect he has reckoned without David and Stephen Delamere As a matter of fact, he is not going to London. It will be a case of Mahomet coming to the mountain on this occasion. Now, Marston, as you are an authority on dry ditches, will you please to conduct us to one. The only stipulation I make is that it shall not be far from the house, and in a position to command the road. We will bring the motor close to it. so that we shall be in a position to start as quickly as possible."

The ditch was found, and the little party lay in it under the motor rugs until the clock struck the hour of ten. Then the Delameres came and stood looking up the road. A little while later and the flame of a cycle lamp came flitting quietly down the track. As the machine passed by, Delamere reached out his hand and grasped the handle, so that the rider fell almost into his arms. Before he could speak a heavy scarf was flung gently around his head, and he was carried, kicking and struggling, to the Mercedes car. Then a handkerchief was. folded about his mouth, and his hands fastened behind him. The whole thing was done so rapidly that it created no disturbance at all. ' ! You had better go back to your cottage," Stephen Delamere said to Marston. "Mr Dnyle, we shall be exceedingly glad of your companyin fact, it is necessary. We are going to take this gentleman back to our rooms, and it will be for him to say how long he is likely to remain our guest. Get in, please!" Gilbert did as desired, and the powerful, car flew over the road in silence.

CHAPTER XXXIX. BEATEN. Gilbert Doyle could feel the prostrate form of Cardrew under his. feet; his spirits rose as the great car hummed along, and the fresh breeze struck cold to his cheek. Presently the Mercedes pulled up in the roadway by the farmhouse, and the Delameres got out. "Take the car back to the stables," David Dela:::ere said to his brother. "Mr Doyle, I shall be glad if you will give me a hand with our prisoner. I suppose, in the eye? of the law, this would be regarded as a disgraceful outrage, but I am comforted by the knowledge that our man will not be likely to take proceedings against" me."

Something 1. w and inarticulate came from Ihe b<....v of the car. Gilbert wailed to see what was likely to be reqiured oil him. "Carry him round to the window." said David Delamere. "I mean the ' window oppusite the sunk fence. It would be far better to use that mode of entrance- we don't want to disturb the good people of the house. Take his head, will you?" Ronald Cardrew was smuggled into the sitting-room at length and the window closed. ' Delamere proceeded to turn up the lamp. Then the other Virginian came in, ana the door was closed. It was not till that was done that the bandage j was removed from the prisoner's i eyes and the gag from his mouth. Besides' being a little! pale and

By FRED Iff. WHITE,

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

gbastiy, he did not look any the worse for his adventure. "Sorry to give you all this trouble," David Delamere said; "but there was no other way that we could think of on the spur of the moment. Don't be alarmed." "I'm not in the ieast alarmed," Cardrew stammered. His face gave the lie to this assuiance. "I am not frightened. What do you mean by this outrage?" Delamere's reply was to point to an arm chair near the table. He produced a small bottle and offered some of its contents to Cardrew. He took it eagerly, and Gilbert could see that his teeth chattered while drinking. Evidently the man's imagination was at work again, the imagination that had always been his bane.

"Better sit down," Delamere said. "Your stay here is likely to last some time. Whether or not it is to be a satisfactory interview depends entirely on yourself. Perhaps I had better introduce myself and my brother to you. lam David Delamere and this is my brother Stephen. We are the brothers of Mrs Bernard Beard. You have heard of her?" Cardrew nodded. The liquor had restored his courage, he began to understand that no great physical violence was going to befall him. He meant to be on his guard. Delamere spoke with the air of a man who is sure of his ground. "Beard married my sister," Delamere went on. "He married her under the impression that she was a great heiress. She was nothing of the kind, and when Beard came to understand that, he deserted his wife. He managed to save himself from our vengeance in a very cunning way; but I need not go into that. When we found out how he had tricked us, we came here to exact the penalty."

"I don't quite see what this has to do with me?" said Cardrew sulkily.

"You will see before I have fin- 1 ished," Delamere went on smoothly, j "We catne to Engand with the firm idea of killing Beard. But fortune has given us the chance of dealing him a far heavier blow than that. But I am wandering somewhat from the point. We were under the impression that Miss Winifred Cawdor —as we know her to be now—was the daughter of Bernard Beard-, and our sister Ada's child. Miss Cawdor possessed a box, a litte red box with a secret spring that once belonged to our dead sister. Miss Cawdor was very fond of that box for some reason, and always took great care of it. My brother recognised the box, and showed Miss Cawdor the secret spring that she had forgotten. When the box was open, it was found to be full of papers. Come, sir, cannot you guess what the papers were? " Cardrew stammered something, but his worJs were too indistinct to convey a meaning. The cigarette he had lighted" in bravado had been allowed to go out. "I am not good at this kind of riddle," he managed to say. "Very good; then it will be my pleasure to enlighten you on the point. That box proved to be full of stolen bonds. Those bonds were stolen from the Southern Star, steamer, and for the robbery of them my friend, Mr Gilbert Doyle, was sentenced to penal servitude. Perhaps you remember the case?" "No," Cardrew said sulkily. "I don't. What do 1 know of the stolen bonds? How do they concern me?" "That we shall arrive at in good time. I merely remark that the stolen bonds for which" my friend suffered imprisonment were found in the little red box belonging to Miss Cawdor."

"But that proves nothing to the advantage of the convict," Cardrew burst out eagerly; "quite the contrary, seeing that Mr Doyle was going to marry Miss Cawdor. It looks as if the young lady was trying to shield her lover." "That is a very pretty point," Delamere said drily, "especially considering that you professed-utter ignorance of the whole transaction. In the language of- the day, you have given yourself away, and proved that you know everything of this wicked business. But there is another side to the imdal. Miss Cawdor has been so much better lately that she has been able to recall facts for some time forgotten. She recalled the fact, for instance, that the bonds found in the little red box had been given to her to take care of by Beard, But you know all about that; don't pretend to be ignorant. It was one day at lunch at the Alexandra, and a French detective was after Beard—or rather, Beard fancied so —and to make things safe he handed the bonds to Miss Cawdor." Cardrew affected to smile, but the effort was a sorry one. A thought occurred to him that turned his mouth dry and caused his heart to beat painfully. What if this calm, cold tormentor of his knew that he had the stolen" bonds in his pocket? The mere idea brought him out all over in a cold perspiration. (To be Continued).