The Trial Of Cicely Selby

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 67, Issue 243, 26 July 1947, Page 7

The Trial Of Cicely Selby

Serial Story,

By ALLYN ,SLOAN.

(Copyright).

CHAPTER XXVI. CONDEMNED TO DEATH It was in the condemned cell at Wandsworth Prison to which she had been transferred, that Rand next saw Cicely, when he went to arrange with her about an appeal. When he was shown into the cell the 'girl was lying on the' narrow bed, and he liestitaed. The wardress, however, who. from now on would be with her until the end, waved him on. “She’s awake, sir.”

“Miss Selby!” Cicely looked over her shoulder, then sat up. She now wore the severe prison uniform which somehow accentuated the extreme youth of her face and slim body. Rand’s heart experienced indescribable sensations within him, but he merely smiled and said: i “How are you? A bit more rested, ,I hope?” The thin, rather beautiful hands made an indifferent gesture. “O yes, thank you.” She spoke slpwly and as if it were of no importance whatever. < “Miss Selby,” Rand sat down. “I am so dreadfully 1 sorry that things ;went as they did.” He broke off. How ridiculously inadequate in sounded how' utterly, hopelessly inadequate. But that woman there —he could not say anything real, anything that mattered before her, and he would never be rid of her. Yet had Cicely been less stunned, had she not felt so completely battered, in body and soul, she must have seen and interpreted the agony in the man’s eyas as they rested on her.

She scarcely looked up, however, but with a slight shrug said:

“O, you couldn’t help it. So many lies . . .” Her hands twisted nervously together, then lay still. . 'lt was a dark and rainy day outside, and, the light in the cell was dim. The place was bare too, and cold. The s girl shivered slightly and Rand’s hands clenched. “Miss Selby, don’t give up hope. You must appeal.” ■ “Appeal?” She looked at him . a moment, then away. Slowly shaking her head, she whispered: ’VNo.” Startled, Rand leaned towards her. . “But you; must!” “No.”

In appalled silence the man stared at her. That refusal of the recommendation to mercy in' court he had taken simply as the result of shock, reac tion. But that she should persist . . . “Please, you must think,” he told her gravely. Calmly, almost indifferently, she said that she had thought. “But Miss Selby—” Rand swallowed, staring aghast. “You—you don’t understand,” he 1 stammered at length. “O yes, I do,” her lips smiled faitly. ,J You mean —perhaps I shall be allowed to live —-in prison!” Her head rose slowly. “No thank you. I d rather die.” “But that’s not the point,” Rand insisted, trying to' natch her glance, which had wandered as if the subject was closed. “Don’t- you see that whilst there’s life there’s hope?” “Hope?” She flung the words at him. “Hope of what?”

, “Of freedom.” “Freedom?” She stared at him, then laughed. Rand shuddered. Laughter in that, place Avas Avorse than tears, and such laughter on those pretty young lips. . , , “Yes, freedom,” he told her insistently. I “I solemnly swear to you that I avill never cease to work until I find out the truth. When that is found, you will bei freed.”

She stared again, the blue eyes resting curiously upon his face. “You—still believe me?” she tvliispered. Rand nodded. “Absolutely.” * Her chin quivered and she caught her underlip between her teeth. Looking down at her hands, she Avhispered:

“Thank you.” The man’s hand reached out, then Avas quickly Avithdrawn. That Avardress, damm her! j “Noav, you will appeal?” he begged. For a moment she thought, then sloAvly shook her head.

“But—.” “No.” , ' , “Miss Selby!” It was a gasp almost of despair. “Really—” “No. I’ve had enough,” the girls voice Avas harsh Avith bitterness. ‘ Life in prison is not life.” “But you gain time —a chance. We shall not relax our efforts; everything will be done.” 1 “Everything has been done, and look!” She raised her arms, then dropped them. “No, no, really—” “Hasn’t everything been done? she asked. “Y-yes, up to the present, liana allowed, but in a heartening voice, urged, “but Ave will go on. I promise you Ave will.” Shaking her head slowly, Ciceij sighed as if she Avere tired of the subject. , ! “And meanwhile I shall be m prison. No I —l’ve finished. Nothing that comes 'will be worse that what I’ve been through. I’ve had my trial. The —the rest will be —quick.” “Miss Selby, you mustn’t feel like that” Rand protested. But she seemed to have slipped away from him where lie’ could not reach her. He flung a glance at the Avardress, then back at Cicely. . “Miss Selby, think of your friends, your sister . . .” lie began again. But Avith a nervously impatient gesture the girl SAVung aAvay. “O, please, I-I’m aAvfully tired. Don t mind —” i Rand stared helplessly. It was impossible. _ “I’m sorry,” lie breatheu. But —1 do beg of you most -solemnly to consider ...” , „ . Cicely did not let him finish. Rising suddenly to her feet she faced him. Her arms Avere folded, hugging her body, and her head flung back. 3 . “I forbid' you to appeal. . .” she commanded harshly. “If there’s a God —He Avill see justice done. If not —it doesn’t matter.” Pier shoulders sagged again and, moving arvay, she propped herself against the wall. ‘ I’m sorry, very sorry,” Rand Poaved his head, then, turning abruptly, left the cell and shortly the prison. Sitting bunched in the corner of his car, he stared unseeingly out of the

window. “My God! My God!” he muttered. That girl—No! No! No! His clenched fist hammered upon his knee. But what to do? He could not appeal without her consent.

The man’s face looked draAvn when he walked into Samuel Pry’s office, and the solicitor eyed him curiously. “She won’t appeal,” Rand told him abruptly. > “Won’t?” repeated Pry. “Nothing will move heix” Rand flung himself down into a chair.

“Dear, dear me.” Tlfe solicitor took off his glasses and wiped them. After a long silence, he said: “I shall have to notify the family. They are in town. I saw them last night.” i “O?”

“Miss Jill seemfed very much upset at the verdict. Quite shocked,” he observed. pensively. “It’s time someone was shocked,” Rand flung, rising and restlessly pacing the room. Pry leaned his arms on the table and fixed the barrister. “You still believe in Miss Selby’s innoncence?” he asked. > “Yes. She is innocent.”

“Then you have a theory?” Rand stopped by the fire and rested his elbow on the mantel piece. After a moment’s thought he replied: “There's one possibility, one only. You remember the Beck c^se?” “The man who Avas falsly convicted,” Pry nodded. “Yes he Avas identified as the culprit by no less than fifteen persons, and a handwriting expert testified on oath that the letters Avere in Beck’s handwriting. Yet after nine years of penal servitude the real man was caught and Beck completely exonerated.” >

“Yes, I remember it uoav.” “Had Beck been sentenced to death an innocent man would have been executed.” “Yes.” Pry moved uncomfortably. “No judge cares to be reminded of the case, but there it is, nevertheless. Further, there Avas the Doherty case and others.” Both men Avere silent. Then almost as if to' himself Pry murmured:'. “We have not nine years. We have a bare three Aveeks.” Rand nodded, muttering ■ “The tAventieth of December.” “Ah!” Pry sighed, thinking just before Christmas., Then, after a pause, he asked: “Is that your theory?” “It’s the only, possible one, but —’ he shrugged. i “Yes. Ah well, but it’s very sad. I cannot understand why the young lady will not appeal. After all—” The red head shook slowly. “O, I understand, poor child.” He took up his hat and brief case. “We must do all we can. Let me know at once if anything turns up.” “I Avill, indeed, although _ what— Well well,” Pry sighed again; then in a ,brisk voice: “I wonder if you’d care to defend William Marburry. was going to send the brief over to your chambers ...” „ . , , Before the solicitor had finished speaking Rand was shaking his head. “No, thanks. I’m not taking any work just now.” ' Naturally Cicely’s sentence of . the extreme penalty and her subsequent refusal to appeal caused an enormous sensation amongst those who once termed themselves her friends. Those Avhose affection went deeper than the surface were distressed, and had to suffer the careless, excited chatter oi the less feeling. Colin was one of the chief sufferers from, their thoughtlessness, and as the days passed he found himself becoming more and more disturbed. Every day he thought: “Something must turn up,” but nothing ever did. The days passed, the middle of December came Avith bitterly cold weather. People began their Christmas shopping, and snuggling AVithm over their fires, told each othei that it’ Avas seasonable Aveather. Seasonable —Christmas-tide the thought was pure mockery. Jill’s reception of the news of her sister’s sentence had been characteristic. She had avoided the trial after the first day, saying that the heat in the court made her feel ill, and Lady Penge, agreeing that it Avas no place for a girl of Jill’s age, kept her at home. On receiving Mr Pry’s telephone message after the sentence of death had been passed, Jill had burst into a tOAvering rage, expressing every possible contempt of his Majesty’s courts, and many Avords of love for her sister. By the next day, lioAvever, she had felt better, and inspired Avith optimism Avith the winter’s sunshine, sparkling upon the diamond-frosted lawn, she had found comfort in the thought that her sister would of course get off. There Avould be an appeal and she did not quite know Avhat would happen, but something—because she simply could not imagine that her sister Cicely, whom after all she did love — next to herself—Avould be hung. That Avas simply the kind of thing which did not happen—being a brainless fool, she added: “in our class.” Cicely’s refusal to appeal she simply did not understand. She kneAV, hotvever, that it added considerably to her OAvn discomfort. It was thoughtless of Cicely to refuse every help. After all, it Avas not very nice for them to havet her sister hung! Angrily she insisted that Cicely should be made to appeal, that Mr Pry should be instructed to appeal whether Cicely Avas Avilling or not, and for several days she • made herself extremely tiresome. , When the. time passed, lioAvever, and it became clear that nothing was to be done, a terrible sense of terror began to haunt her. That fear —so.uncontrolled by conscience—Avhich drove her so many times to acts of unmitigated folly, began to work the reverse Avay. The thought of death alAvays terrified her, ,2nd ijoav it began to haunt her. She dreamed of Cicely hanging—and aAvoke screaming— Lady Penge watched her in amazement.

“Didn’t know the girl loved her sister so much,” she told Basil Gilmore on one of his now less frequent visits. For lie too found Jill impossible. At one moment she Avas Avildly hilarious, the next she flung herself shuddering into his arms for comfort. And comfort he had none. He Avas shocked to his depths and extremely uneasy. He Avas also obliged in honour to stick to his bargain, although it Avas scarcely the bargain he had bargained for. Sometimes Jill Avould Avail: “0 Basil, Avhat shall I do?” And lie would not knoAV what to say. (To be Continued.) The characters in this story are entirely imaginary. No reference is intended to any living person or to any public or private company.