THE FIRST LAW

Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume LXIV, Issue 6577, 17 October 1939, Page 4

THE FIRST LAW

BY C. C. ANDREWS,

(Our readers are informed that all characters in this story are purely •Tvagmary, and if the name of any living personjhappens to be mentioned nc "pergonal reflection is intended.) ALL RIGHT RESERVED

4,, . m ir T » «f H is Hour," "The -House of Murgatroyd," Author of 'Beggar My Lady, Et^

CHAPTER XVIII

FOR ALISON'S SAKE

'The: two. men stood facing each other Jnrrett did not stir.. Then, with his .swift forward,, jus bewildered gesture, the: inevitable < question burst from •Adrian Glyde. "What do you mean?" he demanded

'-'I mean what.l have said, sir." 'fWhat you have said! Said? That luatil he came here nobody had seen Eyerard Fcliott? How should he havo been seen? It was impossible. He was in Canada."

"Yes; he was in Canada.' mean? He came here straight from London. When we found him, Miss Romayne and I—" "Until then lie had not been seen,

sir." "Seen? How should he have been seen, at night? When we found him, lying insensible " "You recogniscd him by his clothes r.nd other belongings, I think, sir?"

"Certainly, before he recovered his: senses. Seen, in the darkness, aftei midnight, and on such a pUtee as the moor! Remembering his injury, and the spot where 1 he was lying, it. is a' chance that he did not meet his death; there."

"Somebody else did meet his death on the . moor that night, sir." '-What do you mea#,?"

"At a spot not very far distant from where Mr Foliott was found, I think sir."

There war; a moment of dead silence in the room. The ticking of the clock {•eemed to ring loud as the strokes of a hammer. Clyde's great gasping intake of breath was exhaled slowly; his hand gripped upon a chair-back and let it go.

"Are you mad, Jarrett?" he asked quietly.

"I am not mad, sir." "Do > you realise what you are suggesting?"

I fully realise it, sir." "You have spoken of the absconding convict, Miles Glitheroe, the unhappy man found in the quarry. Unless

"Found dead in the quarry, sir. And with- his face so cut to-pieces by the flints that it was not recognisable."

"Unless I have lost my own senses you are endeavouring to hint to me the unthinkable suspicion "

"I am hinting, sir, that to a .man, in such a plight a disguise—not to speak of money—would be a matter of almost life or death. And that if he found one, ready to his hand,, he might not hesitate) to take' it." "I say that the whole notion is insane, preposterous, inconceivable! Whatever may have given birth to it in your mind, if you genuinely entertain it " "Will you send to Prince Town, sir?" A pause. Adrian Glyde's face, flushed with wonder and excitement, turned slowly white. He looked steadily into the other's steady eyes. "What is it," he asked quietly;: "what is it that you know?" "I will say that after you have sent to Prince Town, sir." * ' You mean ?" "When the result is known, sir." "Send to the prison—to the Governor—suggest to him, on the strength of this unsupported fancy—suspicion —of yours, that Everard Foliott, the master of Ilarisladrone—Good heavens, it's impossible. I can't do it!" "Everard Foliott, the master of Llansladrone can hardly be harmed; >hy your doing it, sir," said MartinJarrett composcdyl. Glyde did not reply. With a confused gesture he turned to a chair and dropped into it—he was trembling In a moment Javrett spoke again, not less composedly.

ever —made some indifferent remark; about them "

"He is a clever man, sir—and a bold, one." Jarrett hesitated. "You say you cannot do it, sir. Putting yourself utterly out of the question, as, I know you would be the first to do., is it not worth your while to do it for the sake of Miss Romayne. ?" ,

"Miss.Romaync?" Glyde started up.. "You—you mean-—"

"That it may be your duty to do it—before it is too late, sir." "Too late?"

"You said just .now, sir, that you had no doubt it were true, meaning that hp was in love with Miss Romayne. That side of the question does not matter a straw, as all your concern is with the young lady. Remembering how short a time they have known each other, it may surely be taken for granted that whatever the nature, of Miss Romayne's feeling may be, they cannot.have hud time to go very deep. If things go on, if an engagement should arise "

"Jarrett, it would break her heart -half kill her!"

"She has known him for seven weeks, sir. In another seven—yes, that might-be the case. Even to speak, of the possibility of such a disastrous calamity as a marriage, and the chance, of what might follow "

"Good heaven!" Glyde turned his torturned face, torn with doubt ami agony. "Jarrett, having put this vile suspicion in my mind, poisoned me with it, you are tempting me to do a. more horribly treacherous thing than I have ever dreamed of."

"For the sake of the woman you love, sir. To preserve her from the danger of such disgrace as would be worse than death to one of her char-, acter; no one can really know Miss Romayne without seeing that she is proud through and through. And a thing that, if I am wrong, can do harm to no living creature."

The last words were spoken very slowly. A silence of a few minutes went by. Glydt sat with his head down, his clenched hand beat upon the table at his side, a very anguish of indecision was in motion and attitude. With his former stolid composure Jarrett broke the silence.

"Will you send a letter to the Governor, sir?" he asked again.

"Send?" Glyde started up, pushing back his thm, fair hair with a distracted gesture. "I—rl—don't know. My mind is .in ?uch confusion I. can't think: It—it—can't be; I don't believe it. But if any harm came to her Leave me to myself for a little while; come in again presently." He watched the other to the door and him there. "Wait!" he cried "This— this frightful suspicion can't be a new. thing with you You have seen Mr' Everard Foliott several times to day. When did it just come to you?"

"With your permission I will answer that when the result of your letter is known, sir," replied Jarrett, quietly.

He went out, crossing the passage into the office, and sat with his. watch lying before him, waiting, until half an hour had ticked away. Then; he went back to the sitting-room. A letter, sealed and adressed, lay upon, the table. The secretary spoke in. almost his usual tone.

"Can I do anything for you, sir?"

"Yes." Glyde raised his head from his hands and turned; his fair, deii-, cate face looked grey anu pinched 1 and worn and old. "Tell Tomlin to harness the cob; be is to take the trap and carry this letter for me to Prince Town."

Martin Jarrett took up the envelope! and went out. There came an interval, of silence. Then a sound of wheels' hoofs was audible in the courtyard of the hospital; the cob and trap -were being 1 driven past the windows of the, little house, Adrian Glyde started to" his feet; he made a movement towards the door, opened his lips for a recalling cry, and with clenched hands! and teeth dropped into his chair again: There was a step into the passage. Was it Jarrett? The letter—perhaps: the letter had not gone! It must ceo!.After ;all, the man was iright. What harm could it, or a thousand such, work to Everard Foliott? A hand touched the door and he sprang up,ij for the entering figure was that ofij Alison Romayne. - r |

"Will you send to Prince Town, .sir? The Governor is a friend of yours—write him a letter, worded as cautiously and delicately as you please. Should I be as mad as you have suggested lie will keep your confidence. And what harm can accrue to Mr Everard Foliott if, not knowing it, he is seen and scrutinised by every ■warder in the prison who would best know Miles Clitheroe?" "It cannot be! It cannot be!" cried Glyde. "It—it is impossible—impossible, Jarrett! Why—why, one day, the* day before my illness began, in riding on the moor with him we met a; party of warders. They .passed him— looked at" him with no more interest or attention than at me.' ' They looked at Mr Everard Foliott? sir, with whom Uiey had >no concern* whatever. What should they have •whejirtheir runaway prisoner-lies buried Hfcthegraveyard at Prince Town? said iferrett. ; "He?showed no, concern—nwe ,what- f

CHAPTER XIX s A TEST OF ;LOVE ''Qh!" .Alison exclaimed. "I startled you!" ; She might well think so, judging by the almost violent gesture that, he made aatif to I .keep her off, but his •back was <to -the window, and the .pallor of his face escaped her. She closed the door and came forward, giving him her gauntleted hand with a smile; a beautiful, erect, vigorous 'figure in her 'habit, the thick, deep r ;brownrCOils .of her hair a little ruffled f under her plain,* close riding hat. Hot" r as the morning ,was there had been" r a .breeze upon .the 3

you!"

"You were asleep, perhaps?" she sap. _ "No, I was not asleep. You~you hadf a short ride, suiely?" i

"Oh, I suppose Mr Jarrett told you

we; called in-to ask Dr Oliver to go to | Llansladrone ? A short tide? Yes v very, or I should not have' had time, j to pay you this call. But ! Everard remembered a piece of • business he had to do in Oakhampton, arid as it may keep him some time I turned back.' The Peytons are coming to 1 luneh, and Grace and Edith want to dine and sleep. Sueh -a nuisance!" 'She 'looked at him now; her eyes were keen, although he avoided ihem she saw something of the pale disturbance of' his looks. "{Surely you are not so well?" she said in a tone of affectionate concern. "You sent -me-word that vou were bettter yesterday, but it isn't borne out by your looks, you know."

"Isn't it? Oh, I am all right—pulling up my strength uncommonly well,, according to Oliver. I'm a washed-out, lank-looking subject at the best oftimes, you know,'' said Glyde. ; He forced'his voicc to something of its usual ; brisk eheeriness. "So Mr -Poliott has ridden on to Oakhampton." "Yes." "Did you say you wanted Oliver? Nobody ill at Llansladrone ?" * ''Dorcas Wade. She had a fainting, fit last night." , "Nothing serious, 'I hope?" " "I hop© not." m's awfully good of you to come. You can spare me a few minutes now that you are here. Won t you sit down?"

"I—wanted to come," said Alison. He had pulled forward a chair, 'but she did not take it. There was anun-, usual hesitation and indecision in her manner, as her i eplies had been un-' usually brief and absent. She looked at him with he: glorious colour flickering a little, her lips a little tremulous. "I have something to tell you.""To tell me?" ;

"Yes. Something that one of ray best and dearest friends must not ; learn from anybody but my elf." She touched his arrn. "Will you understand if I say that I'm very happy V And that I shall be more so still if I can feel that it won't make you unhappy?"

Glyde looked at her with a face set like a mask.

' You do wide: stand? I'm sure you must. I could only mean one thing, when I say lhat. I should be a heart-, less creature if my first thought had not been of you. When—when I knew, that I was beginning to care "

Glyde spoke in a voice dry as dead branches.

"To care for—Everard Foliott." "Yes—who else? When i knew—' ''You are engaged to him?" "Yes. Only yesterday. I came—"

"You are going to marry him?"

worthy df you— if-riio—wait one mo-i ' ment." He checked her swift turn and glance. :t fU you found there was a reason why he was not a fitting hus-band-for-you, what then? Oh, fl am making you angry, I know. But my loyalty to above all other loy-' fc'iiy. I <care for else. If—if I had heard something—were to tell you—show you— —" His voice, managed with more and' more difficulty, trailed into silence.Unable to meet her eyes he turned' away. Alison (looked at him; she had r grown a little pale. , "You mean something, Adrian,' shesaid quietly. "You would not say this for the sake of words. And I can guess what it L>. You have learnt— Everard has told you, perhaps, something of his life abroad—rin Canada that you—disapprove of. But —but few have as severe and' lofty a standard as yours, .you know; and I : suppose it may be that in these wild places many things are done and thought little of at.which we should'look askance here. If there is such a thing in his lifewell, I don't ask what it is."

"Of course. 'You suspected, Adrian —you guessed at once. Perhaps you saw from the fust—knew " "I knew I? Good heavens, no! no, no!"

Once more the gesture with vtfhicn he drew away was, in its utter re-, pudiation, almost violent. It would, have been strange had she interpreted aright the look with which he regarded her. Its misery she could read, but not its shocked consternation and horror. Too late! He almost cried out the words. Too late!

She laid a hard-upon his arm again

"Oh, Adrian," she said with wet, eyes. "I am sorry! I am most truly' sorry, my dear, I hoped with all my, heart that you would feel it less— that you had iearned to think of me as I think of you—as a most dear and trusted friend. And it has come as an unexpected blow to you. You never thought that I "

"That you cared for him," said Glyde. He looked at her; for the moment the sense of his own loss and. agony overbore all else. He caught her hanr. "Alisc.'i, is it too late? Isn't, it a fancy that! You have known 1 him only a few weeks—a few weeks! And, l—i have thought of nothing but you; for years; you know 1 have not.; You're the only woman there has ever been in my life. Does that count for nothing with you?" .

She drew away

'It counts for so much that to hear you say ;it almost breaks my heart," she said, her voice shaking. "Oh, I know I have not known Everard long,' but you know, dear—you do know— that mere cinie counts for nothing sometimes. Was it so long before you cared for me? And it wasn't because I was the best woman you knew or the handsomest, wa r it, but just because I was I ? I suppose there isi no other reason why I love him ana he loves lae. I think it ame as naturally to 'both of us as breathing comes." Hor voice dropped. "I know it did to me.":

He has come to mean so much to you—in this iiotle while— you .are: sure?"asked;Glyde hoarsely.

"He has .come 'to mean .everything

to me."

•'But it is such a little while. If —if things so happened that—i-that he went out of your life—that you were •parted, you could take -it up -again—"

■Never. And we shall never.part—' that's the one thing not .possible to 1 either of uslt " v too late ;for that."

''You are suie?"

'?I love him,'' said Alison,

-She ihad drawn a ilittle away. Her voice was not cold, ibut there was a' note of finality in it. In spite of <iil ; her sorrow and pity she was conscious'' of a vague disappointment. Was it possible that this man, who had c known her so long and should sknow her so well, could believe her the type of woman to fancy herself in love and iancy herself out of it with an equal" flaccid facility ?

Glyde fell back as she did, his thin, tali, black figure towered between her and the light with clenched hands hanging at its sides. Stone-white, he looked at her. s

' You—you wor't listen?"

<; No. His past is his own; it is his present and his future that are mine.. Why should ! listen? I should be disappointed—sorrj, angry, perhaps— but it would make no difference."

"No difference?"

"How should it? Unless—unless you could tell me that his love for me wronged another woman " 'It is not that."

''.Then what difference should it? make? I am absolutely sure that he loves me "

"Do you think I doubt it?"

''I am as sure of it as I am that I am alive. And I love him. I suppose I didn't realise how much until yesterday—one never does, perhaps. Part?" She gave a shaken, tremulous sound of laughter. "If—if anything 1 parted ;us — hopelessly parted us— I shouldn't die, you know—l'm too strong for that—but, Oh! I should: .wishito, Adrian!" The half-sob in which her voicebroke shrilled into an astonished cry.: Without a woid Glyde turned and ; lushed out of the room. In a moment there was a sound of his feet on the flags and a stamping of hoofs. Darting out in her tv r n she saw him spring into the saddle of her waiting mare, and, bare-headed, his thin, fair hair flying, dash out of the hospital gates and turn in the direction of the moor. 8 » X The driver of the hospital trap, jogging slowly along in the hot sunshine heard the galloping thud of hoofs be-, hind him on the rough moor road, and, recognising the voice that in a moment hailed him, pulled up the cob and stopped. Adrian Glyde fell rather than dismounted from! the.saddle. His face, streaming with sweatfi was chalk like. He reeled, holding to the mare's bridle.

"The letter!" he gasped hoarsely The man stared.

"The letter f<~r Prince Town, sir?" "Yes. Where is it?" "Isn't it to go, sir?" 'No—no! Give it to me!"

The man, with a face of stolid .perplexity, produced it from an inner pocket. Glyde taking it, crushed it in his hand, and made a gesture for the cob's head to be turned. Obeying, the man hesitated, eying - the sidesaddle and the foam flecked mare— Miss Romayne's he knew. He was a slow witted creature. 1

"I'm not to gu to the prison, sir?"

"No—no! I've changed my mind. There—there's something else to go' into the letter. You can go back." "I

"Won't you get into the trap, ;sir? Begging your pardon, it'a terrible hot in the sun —and without a hat—"

"No. I—l am all right. "I'll come on ; presently," said Glyde. !

The man drove off. The whole moor' was reeling dizzily before Glyde's eyes in a heaving mist. He felt weak— faint, giddy. There was a clump of thorn-bushes' a few yards from the; road. He got across to them arid dropped down in the patch of shadow. l He was not sure that his senses had not strayed a little when the sound of approaching hoofs grew clear to him. He looked round, recognising the horse and rider, and slowly got upon his feet. With an amazed ejaculation Clitheroe threw; himself out of the saddle and hurried' across. "Glyde! How on earth Goodheavens! my deal fellow, what's the matter?" - '• The other had staggered, and he caught and steadied him, looking beWilderedly from his colourless face to the mare—rAliscn's mare. What did* it mean, he wondered, utterly at sea.i Glyde smiled vaguely, his eyes were* dazed. «

"It's been—a little too much for' me," he said faintly. 1

"Too much "for you ? Have you, all' weak as you are from your illness, 1 ridden bare ;headed 'in this roasting glare? It's enough to be you death, £ man! What possessed you? And how. comes it that you "have Miss Romayne's mare? There is sharply

■wrong with her'." Clitheroe demanded! "No—no. She is—at the hospital.' I—took , the horse—l couldn't wait, or it would have been too late." "To late?"

"Yes. I—had sent a message. changed my mird—it was not to go.' I had to overtake .the man." "And did you?"

"Yes; I stopped him. "He has gone' back." '

' That's all right, then." Clitheroe" looked at the figure -that swayed against the mare's shoulder, his face 1 iull of the -genuine concern' that he' felt. "You're the best -judge of course,' out -unless -it was a matter of life' or death I should say you had better -have let the corefounded thing go r-than up3f t yourself in this way. 'No one' play such tricks with himself on 1 the top -of *the swt -of betit -that you

You have called me you friend, 1 Alison," he said slowly, "and your 3 •fiiend, I shall ba till I die, as'l shall' be your lover till I die, though this' i& the last time I say so. As your 4 friend let me -ask you this. You love Everard 'Foliott, 'have prfcwiised to* marry him. If—if-he-wefeproved not

nave just come through; it's suicidal man! "You can' 4 -attempt to ride home in this 'heat. take the mare, .get Hack 'to "lilansladrone as quick as I can, and send the motor. If you .lit down s hert and 'keep in the shade—" He -broke off. fin -the act of yielding Glyde suddenly stopped. 'The letter!" he exclaimed. "The ilett- i ? ' ' Yes. The-message. 'I'had it. -Where lis it? .-.aid >iiyde. It had dropped, all crashed, on the grass, probably had fallen from this relaxing hand when his senses wanderer. Seeing, he .pointed to ,it. "Tear it up," he said faintly. "Tenr i' up, Jf oliott "

Clitheroe stooj ed and picked up the envelope. It lay with the superscription upward and he ..saw it. For an .instant,.no more,,his eyes,'his fingers, the whole man,, halted, vStoßped <desd. Then, slowly, composedly, ,he tore ;it into fragments and tossed , them Cflyde spoke. "As you see, it was to my friend, the Governor at Prince Town " said. ' Aiicrwards I decidcd not to send the lettei— ; that there was no eed to I ouble him «• ul - -atcut the little matter. I told you 'Miss Ro--mayne was ■ the hospital, I think ? She- lie—■<sai«?e •His voie'e 'broke off. Clitheroe taught 'him, swooning in his arms. (To be Continued.) *j