GRAND SERIAL STORY. JUDGMENT.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 19, 23 July 1920, Page 5

GRAND SERIAL STORY. JUDGMENT.

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itjl R FOR NEW READERS. -v. H 1 8IR JOHN MILLBANK, a successfol, but gtern jadge, quarrels with his only son, JACK, who leaves his father's house to fight his own way in the world ; and whilst serving with the Australian contingent, under the name of Dick [ Foster, he meets, and falls in love with KITT Y, the adopted daughter of Sir John. However, Sir John has arranged for her marriage with — LORD HAVERHAM. In a moment of i despair, Kitty writes to Dick, asking him to meet her in the Blae Room atRivercourt Mansions. At the appointed hour, Lord Haverham goes to the 1 Blue Room to write some lettefs, and, Iunbeknown to the gnests, Sir John • meets him there. An altercation arises between the two men, resulting in the aocidental death of Lord Havggferham. Later, Dick arrives in the £?-' Blue Room, is caught and accused of murder, and found guilty. Whilst lj|l|passing the sentence of death, Sir ; >£ John recognises the prisoner as his own son Jack! A few days later, Sir John interviews the prisoner at ' his private residence under escort of the warders, and tells him he will ' i- kave to serve at least three years' imiiprisonment. Just as they are leaving, Dick with the assistance of Kitty ■r mm mahes his escape, and that night they ':p fy decide to drive into Winnerleigh ; but the car breaks down, and they are ' | j forced to accept the hospitality of BEAUMONT CHASE, a millionaire. , The following morning, Dick's host inV forms him that Sir John had called dur ing the night and taken his daughz ter away. Dick, believing this story, leaves that morning for WinV nerleigh. Kitty goes down to breakfast, and is cross-examined by Mr ; Chase, but on his promise of assist^Jgf ance tells him the whole sTory. At a fabulous price Mr Chase engages . the services of J MR PELHAM WEBB, a clever but unj|||| scrupulous detective, to find Dick Fos- , ;t ter, and extraets a promise from Kitty not to attempt to see or write to her lover until a year has elapsed. Pelham Webb discovers Dick, and un- . . . f beknown to Beaumont Chase, takes 'i'qi. him to the latter's residence where he is installed as gardener. Sir John and " . ' Kitty arrive at Beaumont Hall, and ffC '» Beaumont Chase loses no time in asking ■•■■■■ Sir John for the hand of his daughter. sW §, Sir John consents. That afternoon ' Kitty receives news that the gardener is seriously injured. The concluding paragraphs of last week's Iinstaiment, reprinted to refresh reader's memories. Jk great wave of pity swept through the ^ young man as he held his father, once so strong, now crushed and broken, enduring indescribabie tortures at the hands of the unspeakable Jole. With a short laugh, he stepped forward into the centre of the room. "I am sorry to spoil this dramatic scene, gentlemen," he said, with a r.eckless toss of his head, "but I have had enough of this nonsense. Jole defended me I at my trial, and he means well. He wants to; help me, but I don't require his services ff-

any longer. The ,game is up. I confess all. It was I Avho killed Lord Haverham. " THE JUDGE REPLIES. Dick Foster's self-accusation,, so calmly made, had a startling effect upon all present. Beaumont Chase, who had his back turned, swung sharply round, dropped his newly lighted cigarette, and stared fixedly at the young man, a new interest in his sleepy, dark eyes. Sir John Millbank, who had sunk into a chair apparently on the verge of physical and mental collapse, sat up as though galvanised. Th,e colour returned to his pallid cheeks, and the fire to his weary eyes. Once more the grim, fighting expression gav.e strength and virility to the lined and haggard old face. . But he did not speak. With a steadysearching gaze, his lips tightly compressed, he surveyed his son in silence. "The Millbank blood!" The words form. ed themselves in his brain, though he did not utter them. "My son! And he knows the truth ! He is lying, he is condemning himself to the lifelongHorture of a prisoncell, and he is doing it to save me. He knows ! And to think I drove such a son from my roof by a mad and eruel blow. 1 have been blind, blind!" His thoughts went back to that scene when the sehoolboy, proud and defiant, stood before him with the livid mark of the whip-lash on his face. But still he did not speak, nor did his girm, hard face, so long schooled to impassivity, betray by a single tremor the agony and remorse that seethed within his breast. It was Kitty who broke the spell that seemed to have fallen upon them all. She gave one startled look at Dick, and then liew to him, her eyes sparkling and her face aglow. He tried not to meet her gaze and made an effort to pass out of the room, but she clung to him, detaining him and looked up eagerly into his pale, agitated face. "Oh, Dick!" she cried. "You killed him ! You really killed him ! And it was to save me. You know I hated him, and rather than let him have me and make me miserable you killed him. Oh, Dick, how — how splendid. The climax was so unexpected that everyone gave a jump, and Beaumont Chase uttered a sound that had a deplorable resemblance to a laugh. "Take me away," he said, in a low voice, to the officer by his side. "I can stand no more of this. Take me away." Inspector Fenn, bewildered and confused by the turn of events, was grateful fo_r a defmite suggestion, and was quick to act upon it. Gently, but with great firmness and decision, he drew Kitty aside. "Please he cairn, miss. You are doing no good. You can do nothing/' he said gently. Kitty flung out her arms desperately in the direction of her lover, who was moving towards the door. "Oh, Dick! Is that true? Can I do nothing?" she cried wildly. He had reached the door now, but he paused for a moment, and, turning his head, looked at her gravely. "Nothing, dear," he said, in a low but clear voice. "There is a barried between us that nothing can break down. If I were a free man, I could not marry you. Fate has been very cruel to us, my darling, but we must each face what lies before us with courage. You must put me out of

your life. I never ought to have come into it. Try and be happy. Timer cures all things, they say. God bless you! 1—" His voice faltered, and then, burying his face in his hands, he staggered out of the room. Kitty darted forward, a pitkiful cry on her lips, but on reaching the door, she found it locked on the outside. Swiftly she turned and faced them all. Her bosom was heaving, and her eyes ablaze. "Can lione of you help him? Can none of you save him?" she cried scornfully. "You know he is a better man than any of you. What he did for me. Would you do as much for any woman? Would any one of you? He shall not spend his life in j prison.- Daddy, you will do something!" ] The old judge moved to her side, and j taking her hand, patted it soothingly. ' "Yes, child, of course, everything will be done," he said quietly. "But now you must be cairn. Say nothing more. It is so easy to say too much." Still holding her hand, he turned his eyes upon Jacob Jole. There was mockery as well as contempt in his cold, steely gaze. Mr Jole had so far remained dumb with consternation and dismay. With infinite pains, he had collected a number of remarkable facts and built up a strong circumstantial case against Sir John Millbank. The evidence he had so laboriously acquired satisfied his own mind that the old judge was closely concerned with the death of the late Lord H/werham. Dick's confession, however, had staggered him, and all his elaborate theories began to topple about his ears. He was utterly bewildered, and could see no explanation of the mystery any- • where. Then the judge addressed him in that cold judicial tone which frequenters of the Old Bailey knew so well. "You have made a serious charge against me, Mr Jole. Of course, you know that having made that charge before witnesses, you must now go on with it and give me the opportunity of refuting it in open court. Unless you commence proceedings forthwith — let us say within the next three days — I shall take action against you for attempted blackmail, and, incidentally, your name will be removed from the rolls. You may now go." Mr Jole's puffy face grew very red, and he began to splutter excitedly and angrily, but meeting the judge's cold, merciless gaze, his courage failed him, and he collapsed. "This isn't the last word, my lord," he contrived to say, but his voice sounded thin and hysterical. Then he took a step towards the door, but suddenly remembering it was locked, he swung round with an almost ridiculous petulance, and strode out through the still open French window into the garden. Sir John Millbank gave an involuntary sigh of relief, his stern expression relaxed, and the look of weariness returned to his eyes. "I am tired," he said, almost in the tone of a child as he looked down at Kitty. "Let me go to bed." "One minute, Sir John. I will not detain you longer. But there is one thing I must know before we go to bed tonight." It was the quiet voice of Beaumont Chase. His presence had almost been forgotten by the' other two, but now they both looked at him. In his quiet, self-possessed demeanour there was something which somehow inspired fear. Kitty felt it, and so did the judge. The old man's grip tightened on the girl's hand. The millionaire took a step towards them, but without looking at Kitty, fixed his eyes upon the judge's careworn face. "Sir John," he said quietly, "your daughter has consented to marry me, and she has asked me to fix the date. I have done so. All arrangements are made for the ceremony to take place to-morrow. I wish to know to-night — now — whether she is prepared to keep her promisa" Kitty stared, her mind recalled to matters which had been blotted out by the events of the evening ; but before she could say anything the judge answered for her. Once again the bowed figure stiffened, and the fighting look returned to the old eyes. (Continued on page 6.)

judgment. (Continued from pa6e 6>( j "She is not," said the old mn „ "The cercmony will not take pA Millbank will not marry y0u tr' ^ "lf notto-morrowA.i;.^..' "Never !" The judge uttered the word" viea, with a grim emphasis in his tono Kitty uttered a little gasp. thl' , came to her checks, and her eyes A At last she had a friend. Daddv °1"' her side. She had the senWo*!? fighter hard pressed, who suddenW / covers a powerful ally standim, bv ^ side. Beaumont Chase for a moment made reply, but his brows narrowwl. ;m(] ' ugly look came into his sleepy eyo8. ^ When he did speak, his pleasant, voice remained unehanged. "Very well, Sir John, we will discns, this matter another time, I think we all tired to-night." He crossed the room, and rang the hdi, Mr Underwood, the millionaire's per sonal servant, arrived and unlocked the door. "Good-night, Sir John! Good-nighf Miss Millbank!" said Chase, with a how and there was a little smile upon his lipj,' Kitty led the old man out of the rcotn, "Do you want me any more to-night, sir?" said Underwood. "Yes, That solicitor chap, has he g0K9 yet?" "No, sir; he is packing." "Said him here." A few minutess later, Mr Jacol J0]e en_ teired the presence of the Hiillionure, As soon as they were alone Beaumont Chase laughed. The solicitor fiushed angrily, buthdo» he could speak the other said pleasanhy, "Have a drink?" In a few moments the two men toi seated opposite one another in comforlaHt armchairs, with the whisky and sodaot a small table between them. "You made a hash of your job to-night* Mr Jole nodded gloomily. "But, of course, you are right! "Eh?" Jacob Jole nearly dropped his glass, "Foster did not kill Lord Haverham,"prcc,eeded the millionaire. "I nevei douhted he was guilty tiil he confessed it, 'JTien I knew he was lying. He accused himself to save someone else." "You think that?" exclaimecf Joh eagerly. "I am sure of it. Now why did hemak* that confession and who is he trying to shield ?" "Judge Millbank," declared Jole rauagely. "But why?" "Heaven knows!" Beaumont Chase remained serioosly thoughtful for a while. Then he smiled again. "Look here, Mr Jole," he said qmetly, "I am a plain man, and I always put- my cards on the table, i'ace upwards. For reasons of my own, I want to get a bold over Sir Jolm Millank. You have cerhain documents, certam evidence you have collected. That evidence now appears to be worthless. So it is to you. You cari fight a man like Millbank. He is too big for you. Still, you have certain evidence which a-ppears to incriminate him. "I have evidence which, it properly used, will hang him!" cried Jole. "Good! What do you want for it-' (To be continuedl