THE FIRST LAW

Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume LXIV, Issue 6578, 20 October 1939, Page 4

THE FIRST LAW

BY C. C. AJ«JBEWS,

' (Oar-readers -are'informed that all character* ,jn ? this story are purely mgginayy, and if the name«itf any living to be mentioned nc pewonAl rdiection is iiitended.) -

ALL RIGHTRESERVED

U-uihor.of lißefcgar My Lady," "Hie -Hour," '<The«ouse of *Murgatroyd," £ Etc.

CHAPTER XX

DORCAS IS JUST IN TIME

*Miss*Romayne, leaning- over a low -side -gate in the -garden wall of the Crooked Cot,-a lace wrap mot < unlike ' those worn ü by "CamiHa -Foliott, only. that it was-white, covering her dark " head arid the square-cut neck of her evening frock, recognised Clitheroe's approaching step before the curve of .the, road brought into>view.Vi ISight arid sound quickened her hearfc' as they'deepened her gloi'ious her face was at its lovliest as she raised it to receive and return his kiss. Slipping her hand through his arm she turned towaids a path that wound away through the shrubbery. "We won't go in; itids; so ! beautifuE out here," she said, arid laughed softly, "Do you know, I was just about to throw to the winds the very proper axiom that noself-respecting \ w oman ever runs after-a man, andcorae to, look for you. How is. it ..that you're so late?"

"I was not sure that your visitors wouldi be -gone.'

"Oh, yes, I .got rid of-them after; t?a, thank goodness. They .are bound for a concert at Tavistock with thtf Beverleys. I'm half inclined to dismantle my spare rooms —people always come and quarter themselves when you particularly don't want them. Thanks to Grace and Edith Ppytoiul .-haven't seen you,since, yesterday, and when one hasn't been engaged a week ' I call that distinctly ti-ying. They were desperately disappointed that you didn't appear. Thfv wanted to inspect you badly."

"I'm lucky to have escaped the ordeal. You told them?"

"Eeggy did,:the little wretch! Nothing short of an iron, gag will sil-. ence that child, sometimes. And the Peytonv.girls have tongue 9 as long as hers. Weijuight asvwell have put it in Her . tone .changed,.,grew graver. "Never mind that. I want to hear about yesterday, and Adrian, poor fellow. That note you sent me wasn't, very- clear. You found him: on, the moor, almost faniting, and he really fainted afterwards ? "

"Absolutely. It was probably the best part *of half; an hour before I managed\ to bring him round. 'No ovonder. .To. ride .bare-headed through that sweltering heat in his weak con'dilion was sheer madness.' Luckily, as" I told you, Colonel Strickland came along with his runabout, or what I should have dojie heaven knows. Glyde was not fit to be-left, and could no more have kept in the saddle than walked."

"You took him to Black Watch House?"

"Very much against his will; he wanted to go back to the hospital of course. But, as Oliver said, if he is there, he will tax himself in. some way. or other while -he is* capable Of* stand-* ing. on his feet. Under Strickland's thumb he is bound to keep quiet. So he is to stay where he is for a day or two. He said nothing toyou-aboutf a letter that he wanted to stop?"

"Not a word. I didn't know he- had sent any. All of a sudden he simply rushed out of th room."

"And took your horse?"

"Yes. I ran out just, in time, to. see him dash out of the hospital gates." "You did not wait?"

"There nothing to wait for. I was simply bewildered. I walked home and avaited developments. -Which came in the. form of your note,, .Did he tell you nothing about the letter?"

"Not a word, except that he had changed his mind about letting it-go." 'Nor to whom it was sent?" "I saw that much. To the Governor at Prince Town.'

"Really? Oh, well, they are great friends, you know. What could it have been about, I wonder? Whatever it ■was, he had better have let it go than run the risk of a sunstroke in that way."

"I told him so.' 1

, the?.truth or-'knew it! x Hemight &av% read "the *. "with the ietfceiv'that * would "have betrayed 4iini iin his hatfd,>but"virith incredible foHnd-; j ness, incre'dible stupidity,-he L ha'd failed' to -join of the threads. Inshould instantlynjoin: them--now/ irrthe lightof "Alisonte last, words. She had' told. And'XJlyde, sus-' Meeting or isnowing-hrid spared -him|' held: his harid for her ..sake, had re-j signed all ! hope of her, .sacrificed his dearest- desire, -pledged himself, to sil-■ence-and-secrecy without a woifd. He a man in whoseaustere. creed a lie was animpossiblethmg, an act'that touched the fringe of dishonour, revolting! For her sake, for her..sake! stood still. If his quick brain hadaieve* worked more quickly, he had sseldom. kept a calmer face. n

"You told him of our engagement) Alison? That you had promised to :

marry mc"

Yes. I //as afraid he might hear it from some ofchor source. And he would have,thought that so unkind."

"Perhaps he might. He did not take it over weli. I'm afraid?"

"No. Oh, I an; so sorry, dear.; It .so] evidently camc xs ia .quite unexpected blow to him." ;

"He was surprised?"

"Amazed. And yet he guessed in a noment what \ was that I wanted to say." .There werertears in her eyes that shejdid jicl try to?hide. "Don't; lfcL uo talk about it, Everard. It- makes; mo feel wretche* 7 —guilty. Except youj t.ieie isn't .-onej.l .woulan'trrather have wounded. 1 don't think there is-better,-mote unselfish -man anywhere tha Adrian. Oh, here comes that placue of a girl!"

The plague of a girl was, of Peggy, who ca! v e prancing alojpg the path with Pedro clumsily circling round her, as usual bubbling over with questions, talk, laughter, and not; to be shaken off. It was some half .an 1 hour later that Miss.-Merrick, appearing from the .house, rbore away her pupil, and' Alisoi; was left alone, again with her lover. The great clock;from the tower of St. .Guthbert's 'Abbey began to ring cut the hour, and she counted the -mellow, reverberating

"Poor fellow, yes. You know, I feel in a way, "as if it were my fault, for if.lJiad.jiot.been there he could not. have taken Nancibel and rushed off with her. But I thought, as several people know now, and I so much wished that he should hear of it from nobody but myself "

strokes

Clithreoe stood still. On the moou yesterday, when his eyes had fallen upon the direction of the dropped lelfcer, Ae ;Jiad , not :conie to a more sudden, a 'deader stop than now. (Hyde knew! The words, suddenly shouted -in t'bis ear, flashed before his eyes, cciuid "not haveborne Ahei knowledge An npon shim more clearly, more surely. Had Jarrett .dared—'-brakeiu faith ? ; . What did it matter ? From thatiSOurce or from >some other, Glyde suspected

"Ten—you. must go," she said, i &nd paused. "There is nothing the matter,' Everard?" *h< asked gently. 'The matter '.

"Well, yoj have been.so very silent^

you

"Have s T ? r Pm ->6frajd '-that's rrather a failing oi mine."

"Perhaps it is. But it's very nicer than being a chatterbox; gives my tongue so much more of a chance" said Alison quaintly. ' But, once-or-twice I've fancied your voice sounded as ii you were depressed." ;

'Depressed? I? Surely I'm the last* man alive w'no is likely to be that, love.

"Well, x hope you are. If Itdidn't rccollect that it was natural to you to'.be: ratheivgrave, I should consider your seeming extra so as an uncomplimentary reflection upon my : being so ridiculously '.lappy myself. Just' be J for? you n J waltzed poorivMerry five times round the croquet lawn, and left iier gas\:g!" They had .paused by the gate and she had put on his shoulders her laughing face and tone both changed sharply. < f My dear, do you know you look quite ill?'

''111? Non?ense! Your fancy; its tile jnooiilu-ht.'

"It's :the moonlight that shows? it to' me: yoJ iieai ; I hadn't seen your, face properly before. You are haggard-arid iwhite,-and your eyes are-all sunken. 1 Lveraid, \ou> iast night!'! "I'm ■ afraid I didn't—not much." < "Not iiiuc/i'.' Does that mean >not at all ? "Perhaps it does; something like' it." ""ihat .nakcs two nights you havd not leste : My ±,oor boy! What can' be tn; rcysi'n? "You should not have let ir.e 1 c.p you out here; youimust feel half cca-J. Vv ill you have the pony! carriage to * b?.ck to Llansladron^? 1 No? Then pron.'se that you will-see I'r. .Jlwr to morrow. You must;' 7 * "I was thinning of that. Yes, I'll-see' him." * Do, dearest." Her arms had slipped about his neck, and he" had "drawn hei* to him. "And about to-night? "You must ? "I shall "leep to-night," said Glith* croe • "But you can't be sure.LLet me;give you ssomething, Some -sulphonal." ;

that's not - necessary. I have something.'

? ? 'Ard you'll t promise ito take'it?" 3

"Yesrl j-promiee you I'll take fit. r shall,?sleep. - Good-night—good-night" 'The first eri*biacet in which he' iield her, _at the mompnt when "hisf avowal df 'love-was spoken, had noi: been rmd close as thisioie, as'hi&firstvkiss upon her lips had no| been-socpassionate.or so long as that' wJiichii heupressed them now.'He released,, put..herefrom him, and turned aw?ty. At Ihr bend of the road he paused. She was still at the gate. He waved his hand in answer to the wavingl - &f "Jiers, arid walked on. Walked on, he told himself, deliberately to has? death.

To his death! As a few minutssstfl? rapid thought had before broughtibimjto the decision to tread the path £r&% which he had not since swerved, so a

equally* 'rag»i*3| to jthis reolve now tMt'fche 1 no longer. It could not be—for Alison's sake it cofiM not'be. "The knowledge of it her first kiss, had tortured -every moment since; that-was plain truth He had meant to marry her, that was also true;" but "there were some things too vile foi a man to compass, and this was -a -villainy v he J dar£d not "do? Jofih; , is|ae f r(woji-Id hawfidoEesit,i heddad .juggle with himself if.it seemed that it could" have 'be en done with safe.ty? but nxw,-Jwith'Jarretts.#h(Xtknew, iGHyd# .who at .Sir, John Dunboyne, who at any moment anightf know, the - crust -6f -the- crater upor? avalked-jnight gape?and en- ! jjulf him .apy day. Gilbert? For a* momeiit' 1 his' thoi ghts glanced at'jGil| iaert; ii* | the matter. When Everard.Foliott was' dead he would step dumb, and gla'd tcf be dumb,4nt6 ; Everard F6li6tt?s place. jUison? If he decided to Jive, .to take the risk still, and broke with he* Thatf •meant that -he - wourided- her half tc/ death, ' inflicted «an rintoleukble t sting^! upon her pride, left her under "the' Slight arid'lur of J deseertion. "She de-1 serted! tThe <jttesti<m'*wass-enly*a pas-' sing one; he shook it from Jhim.

"No!" he said aloud. "No! An honest her heart; ..an honest :grief won't shame- her. Aricf she -will mairy Glyde. sc«mei% or later. .There, is, only- the -one .way- out. I told .her the truth. ,1 Avill; sleep ,to-night!'*

Nearly..all the.windows, of thergreat, house were dark when; he reached LI an sladrone; .the; household «wasan;early one. He went into .the library, took: up a book, and turned it over, cwhile; he smoked a cigar. "Then he wrote a" few lines' to "Dr.' Oliver,' arranging to see •■him on the morrow, tarid replied to p • certain : letter that i-Jay agreeing to ' the it suggested, * for ' this that -was to ' happen presently, -all"the details <jf <which he had -mentally settled Tfrhile he ■•walked at -Alison's-side, must seem" to : be.beyond all "doubt an 'accident, "for Alison's sake.

.Little fear of that, though,! little fear, even-if, he were-less careful and cautious than he meant to be. . Fear ?' Why should erard Foiiott,. master of .Llansladronc. newly engaged to t a girl who many man . might worship* •deliberately put a bullet through his head? The mere suggestion would.be derided as an impossible thijig. !That' he should have gone alone,.to gunroom at night might-.be thought strange possibly, but .it - would be f thought no. more. He half, smoked another cigar, and leaving the -room, lighted,. went out, treading, softly.

The long passage down which hej had once stood to watch, a ,dead man carried was in darkness; ,he switched, on., the. light, and .so in .a moment was, in the room where man .had lain. Miles Clitheroe, convict 247! JThe full irony of the thing seized him with, a prepasterous inclination to laughter ..VHatience ! r -JEUesCGHtheroe, convict 247, would be there presently. In. thej meantime there was nothing ecommor.er than an accident to a man who. Cleaned - a revol\ er. iA.n-iaccident h beyond all question, the thing must be an accident.-How had he thought it out in the garden at the Crooked' Cot? Ah,-yes. Held..this j Not a sound . other -.than his- own hardly hurried breathing had?been .audible. to ; Jum,., not a creak oi\,&s step, .but .his-arm? as he raised it waa-seized, dragged _dawn. He -saw the face of Dorcas Wade.

"No,'.-no!" she !r gasped,rand with all thef strength, that was. in her fc gripped and held him. "Not that, not that! You shall not! You -shall not! Never, never!"

• Clitheroe r aaid mothing, muttered no scrand-.af ter: his just .involuntary cry. AVords of denial,?anger,rridicule that might have .come to .him ;backnbytisheT.wildrjhorror,t;thet-.disteac-.. ted comprehension of her face. Eor the.;momenfcthe ithought- thq •memory i.that i thus 'must- seem ->an<ac-; ■cident, .-were swept i .out ;i)f r,his rmiad, a s r desperately:33 -at ? another nyould ..have if ought t for life he nowiStcuggled r to iwiest from -her (what would- are few women,>andadesperatei-as'he, ;she resisted! and kept'hen frantic :ciu(tch upon . his.-arm. a violent effort he ■wrenched "free, - stumbled, • caught bhis i foot, fell -heavily ;headlong, striking, -hishead)Upon:thehearthstone,iand-lay. •stunned and in-ensible. J

'Dorcas screamed, staggered,: arid fell- on ; her knecs : beside~him. £ He: Still •held the revdhtr; -she'took -it* fronr him,- arid -with it'-im-her hand-got iupoii •her feet. v As she-did so'there-was a' sound -of -swift - steps - in-the -passage 1 arid long,-unbound hair-flowing a ■white-wrap-' per, came : in.

""What noistf? "Some one screamed. ? I-was-in-jnysitting-iMom, you!"What 7 -brings; you, here at midnight? And—what's fthis. Everard?" ,

"She stopped. r Some -change, some 'flicker of wonder and -concern stirred the pale -composure of her irppasiye face' for once. Dorcas"Wade* held out ■the revolver, 1 lying -upoiv the palmher large, "shaking,hand. ,

"I saw him come in_to-night;" said in a thick, panting Yftice. •? 'ial-, though'he-did not see-me." I saw his face, and" I watched arid waited mistress, because" rftared. I- saW him: come here, and ' I 'followed ' because 'llknew —Iknew.'l was only just in time— just:in time to save him.'He would, have killed himself" -■ ?

"Killed himself ?" Camilla echoed; haughtily. "Shot' himself ? "."My vnephevtf 1 ? "Dorcas, are you mad?"!Th§ woman flung the revolver away ? and, caught her round the waist. -j.

| "Mistress," .she .cried, „and down at the unconscious man. "Mist* ress, Miss Camilla, look at him -lies there, -you have mever «e®]rjs

iiim set^oofeat^ neveryio ;-eee<g#ga?n. iE^«mbfir-jps*ed

dojf3Z»Uiigpie«^tla^i truth at last?"