SUSPECTED.

Auckland Star, Volume XXV, Issue 248, 17 October 1894, Page 6

SUSPECTED.

BY FAY P. RATHBUN.

CHAPTER XlX.—(Continued),

After a few minutes Wincrafb turned suddenly to Dan, saying :

' Dan, I have jusb thought of something ; I must go oub for a iibtle while—half an hour or an hour at most—and I want you to waib for me downstairs. Here is a dollar; amuse yourself while lam gone. Smoke, If you wanb to, but don't drink anything tnd don't leave the house, for I want to talk to you again as Boon as I geb back.' Dan book the dollar and assented, but, before leaving the room, inquired:

• Wbafc I told you's good for fifty, ain't

' I guess so/ said Wincrafb, as he hurried Dan oat; 'I hope so ; but time will tell, you musti wait until your story can be investigated.'

They went downstairs, where Wincrafb hastened to the door, jumped into a cab Btanding on the curb, saying a few words to the driver as he did bo, and was rapidly driven away. A few minutes later he was in the presence of Mr Harris, Glenmont's brofcher-in-law, whom he thus addressed :

'Mr Harris, I have come to ask you a question, to nettle a controversy between a friend and myself. You may think it hardly worth the trouble 1 take, but my friend is very obstinate, and I am confident that he is wrong. I want bo know whether Herbert Glenment wore a mustache ?'

• A moustache ! Why, certainly nob. He always shaved bis lip, and his whole face, too, for that) matter.'

' But I mean the summer he was arresbed, along about the time of the inquest, Wincraft returned.

' No,' Mr Harris replied positively; *He never wore one. The truth is that he couldn't grow a good one. His moustache was so thin thab ib didn'b look well. A short bime after he was married he tried to have one, bub ib was a good deal of a failure, and he never attempted ib a second time. Ibis singular, too, for his brother Allan had a heavy mustache.' ' Of course,' said Wincrafb, with an air of conviction, 'you could not be mistaken ?'

• Miataken !' Mr Harris rejoined. 'Surely nob. I should think that you would remember that he had no moustache ab the time you spoke of.' . ' I do,' his caller answered; ' but my friend insists thab I am wrong.'

Wincraft thanked Harris for deciding the difference between himself and his friend, and had gob as far as the door on his way cub of the room, when he burned about and asked :

• Oh, by the way, Mr Harris, whab has become of the brother, Allen ? I remember he was away somewhere ab bhe time of the trial.'

' He went to California just before Herbert's arrest," Mr Harris answered, ' and has never returned. We used bo hear from him occasionally, bub haven't now for a long time. He may be there 'yet, and he may not. He is an uneasy, roving fellow ; never in one place long.'

Wincraf b was elated, and as he rode back toward the hotel be recalled with satisfaction thab M urbis used to wear prominently a handsome pin, bearing the Masonic and Odd Fellows' emblems. He rapidly built a half dozen theories upon the information he had pained thab day, each one of whic.h would establish Herbert Glenmont's innocence and, what he considered of minor consequence, some other person's guilt. But whiib he:held moat important as a gratification peculiarly personal to himself was that, if he wero righb in his present suspicion, he should, one day, be enabled to say:''• Mr Cayton, this is no longer a matter of mere belief. Ib is a proven fact thab you, sir, with your squearaishnesH, your narrow construction of the moral law, and ypur assumption of being shocked by my wickedness, prevented me from saving an innocent man's life. Now harmonise that sensitive conscience of yours with what you have done ! Cayton has the right,' was Wincrafb's reasoning, which ib will readily be seen was induced by humiliated pride, 'to make a martyr of himself if he likes, but not of another person. Still he held ©lenmonb to the stake, and refused to leb me pull away the faggots. He has overcrowed me by his high moral convictions, and now holds himself the better man. If ibs in the cards, I'll spend a pretty penny to'show him thab I was right; and I'll give him something to think about beside the gambler's rascality.' This was the key to Wincrafb's vigorous interest in Dan's tale. He was proud, and thought himself as honorable and honesb as any gentleman of them all. He had never forgotten the contempb with which Cayton had rejected his proposition to use suborned witnesses, and he welcomed any means which he thought would, to some extent, heal his wounded pride, by convincing Cayton thab there was no longer room for a doubt of Glenmont'a innocence, which, if it were once proved—according to Wincrafb's logic—would justify his course and condemn Cayton's opposition.

Wincrafb's rale of life was too loose to permit him easily to understand thab the mere degree of convenience or expediency or the strengoh of the temptation was most unlikely, in Cayton's judgment, to justify a felony.

On his reaching the hotel, Wincrafb found Dan enjoying a cigar, and taking him at once to the room they had left, thus addressed him:

• Dan, you are all wrong about part of your conclusion—no matter what part— but there may be something in your story that I can use after all. If there be, and ib turns oub well, perhaps you may geb a hundred dollars instead of fifty. I don't promise it, but you may gab it—that is, if you keep that mouth of yours shut except when I tell you to open it. But if you talk or go one inch beyond what I say, you will never get a cent.' Dan began a promise of obedience, but "Wincraft would not hear him.

' Never mind promising ; I tell you what the result? will be, and you carido as you like—as you will anyway. Now, I want to know where Sandy is ?' • Hangiii' around some hotel in Philadeify", I s'pose. That's where he went when ho left Brookside.'

11 want him here,' said Wincraft, ' and I am going to send you after him. I want you to start to-morrow morning. You know all about him, and will know where to look, and besides, he will come for you, 1 think.'

This was more than Dan had bargained for. It was bringing his old partner back to clamour for a share in the ' fifty' or • hundred' that were in prospect. Dnn showed his alarm in his face.

•No,' added YVincraffc, who saw and understood Dan's fears, ' tkab will all be right ; you shall have the money yourself. I will give Sandy a little something to quiet him. Now I want yon to be lively ; Sandy will come if his expenses are paid. I will buy you a ticket, give you what money you need, and a letter to a friend of mine in Philadelphia, who will buy [tickets for you and Sandy to come home on—and,' he said warningly, ' don't try to tamper with the letter, because my friend will have another like it, which I shall mail to him to nisht.'

'Oh, Mr Wincraft,' Dan exclaimed, in an injured tone, 'do you think I'd monkey ■with your letter? 1

'I know you won't—now.'

•I can't write, anyway,' Dan admitted

'You could find plenty to do that for yon,' Wincraft returned, * and I want you to understand, most distinctly, thab you are nob dealing with Mr Murtis any longer, but with me, and that if you atbompfc tho

leasb crooked work, I shall know ib, and I will bring you up with a shorb turn—so look' out!'

CHAPTER XX.

WAS THE PONIARD RECOGNISED?

Agnes, atter parting wibh Arthur Melville, hurried to her own room, where in privacy she has a good cry, and then sought to master her feelings as a preparation for meebing her guardian and Mrs Caybon. As her guesbs did nob reburn she was undisturbed and remainsd alone until night; subject to occasional bursts of grief, but trying hard to reflect calmly, and to secure ab leasb an appearance of a tranquil acceptance of the inevitable. She knew that a full disclosure could nob well be deferred, as the absence of the Melvilles must be explained. As soon as she heard her guardian enter the house, she hastened down to see him and, with a degree of composure that surprised herself as well as him, frankly told him thab Arthur had left her, and why.

Upon hearing the declaration, Cayton was white-hob with indignation and anger, and ho expressed in unmeasured terms his conbempb for Melville, whom he declared to be vain, heartless and a fool. He was amazed when, in response to this, she defended the recreant lover with eager and fearless zeal, and repeated bhe parbiculars of her laßb interview wibh him as evidence of Arbhur's good faith. Bub his amazement was still greater when she asserted thab their mutual regard remained and would ever remain, unchanged. -

Ho objected to such a condition as unwise, impossible and ridiculous. He protested and admonished ; bub soon saw thab remonstrances, for the time at least, were ineffectual, and was compelled to abandon his opposition bo avoid uselessly harrassing her in her affliction. As has been said, Agnes's confidence in Arthur's faithfulness and honour was absolute and unquestioning. She believed implicitly in all thab he had said at their parting, and never once thought of doubting his motives, nor even of seriously blaming him for wbab she believed he had done in obedience to his conception of his duty. As a result of this, the depth of her sorrow was not so profound as is thab of one, who, while, like her, still loving, feels that she has lost the regard of the object of her affections. Being thus consoled by her ever-present idea thab she and Arthur, though separated, were atill mutually constant, ebo speedily recovered her usual equanimity ; and in a few weeks, to the ordinary observer, she was again her perfect self. * However, while her confidence in Arthur's faithfulness sustained her and made the burden of her sorrow comparatively light, on bhe other hand ib went far toward rendering hopeless the possibility of her ever forgetting the old lover in a new one's favour. Indeed, there was bub little proapecb thab she would ever mako the attempb. She thought herself and Arthur equally ill-used by fortune, and she, who needed all of the pity, fell to pitying him. She could nob forget) that sho had seen him weep ab parting wibh her ; had .heard him say thab for her sake he should never marry; and she resolutely determined to be equally true. Although, aa casually seen, she appeared unchanged, to her intimates she was known to be altered. She was sad. The flow of her high apirib was checked. Her intense interest in life was gone ; bub with it all she was very patient and laboured that her own unhappiness should be no check upon the enjoyment of others. All the efforts of the friends who were on such terms wibh her as to permit them to attempt to turn her from her purpoee of loyalty to a reareanb loror were vaiD. She said bhab when bhe day came which her father had predicted, which she expected with confidence —the day when he should be vindicated and the real murderer known— Arthur would return, if he and she were then alive, and not before that time should she marry. Firm in her faith, she declined to go into society as a marriageable girl or co conduct herself with anything lees than the restraint due lo her desire to respect the rights and wishes of an absent affianced husband.

To try bo convince her that Arthur would observe no such course on his part deeply offended her. To atbempb to satisty her that the event to which she trusted for the restoration of her lover was nearly certain never to happen, was to meet an assertion of her trueb in the justice of God and in the truth ot her father's prophecy; illogical and disturbing to her well-wishers, bub bo her mind conclusive, for she followed her hearb, whose strong hopes became secure beliefs.

To others she was the slave of a phantasy ; to herself, the disciple of a truth. Melville, as has been seen, had acted from what he had though b a necessity. He lefb Seaboard in deep dejection, and upon his arrival at home wrote a letter to Agnes's guardian, in which he set forth, as he felt in honour bound to do, the reasons for his conduct. The letter bore evidence of having been honestly written, and threw a strong and, to its recipienb, a new light upon the writer's character and motives; but ib did nob tend to appease Gayton's fears. On the contrary, ib served to aggravate them, and first showed him the real nature of the foundation of bis ward's faith.

The letter, too, seemed to force itself upon his mind as some evidence of the writer's honesty, although it might be none of his good sense, and fie preferred to think of Melville as a rascal as well as a fool and an egotist. Lenfair, whose just indignation at the treatment his favourite bad received, was perhaps as extreme as thab of her guardian, had said to Cayton, when speaking of Melville : ' Thab fellow is a villain and a conceited puppy. If Agnes could only forget him, I should be glad he was gone. He lias offered her up as a sacrifice to the domestic Lares 6l his family, which are, in truth, as much as ever were those of the old Romans, the souls of his ancestors.'

Cayton agreed with him, and they were both very bitter on the subject, bub in thei sympathy for the sufferer it did not occur to either of them that those same old Ror mans, though deeply in error in theiworship, were very much in earnest,. inr deed. •

Thus the winter passed and the summer came, but there had been no change in Agnes since the first burst of grief was over, and her serenity had returned. She was faithfully following the line of conduct she had laid down and seemed contented with such satisfaction as ib brought her. She -had always before been amenablo to the alightesb wish of her guardian, bub now in her gentle way she was firm and immovable ; and in opposition to all the world, would have secretly worshipped her ideal.

Her friends bad long since ceased to increase her unhappiness by needless appeals, and now neither they nor sbe ever mentioned Melville. It) was only evident thab she kept faith with paHt memories by a new seriousness and gravity of manner which she had acquired, when nob animated by some passing thought), and by her refusal to accept any escorb other than thab of her guardian or her old friend Lenfair; or to receive any marked attentions from her numerous gentlemen acquaintances.

Bosky Bay once more awoke from a long sleep and was again bright with colours, for its cottages were filled with their summer residents. Gayton Cottage was occupied, though as yet the family guests had sot arrived. One afternoon at dusk, during the latter part of June following the breaking of Agnes's engagement, and but a couple of days after Dan's journey to Seaboard to call on Wincraft, M r Gayton sat with his mother and Agnes on the wide verandah, enjoying the cooling air and the pleasant quiet of the place after go many

months of noise in the city. They were enumerating their old acquaintances who had already returned to their cobtages. But Agnes was thinking of one who would nob return, and her companions, bhough speaking of other things, were conscious of her thoughbs—for bhey well knew that they had gone back to her last summer ab Bosky Bay. The evening brain from Seaboard had just lefb bhe station, and as the party sitbing un tho verandah were lisbening to the echoes ib aroused as it rumbled over the bridge far up the valley, they saw a gentle-, man, who, in the uncertain lighb, seemed to be a stranger, burn into the gate from the street. He approached until he had reached the verandah steps, when, after saluting the party, he asked to see Mr Cayton ; and withoub replying bo the gentleman's request that he enter the house, said:

' Mr Cayton, my business is particular, and if bhe ladies will excuse me, I should like bo see you privately.' Ab this, Mrs Cayton and Agnes retired into the house, and bhe stranger having been seated near Mr Caybon introduced himself: '■

'You do nob remember me,' he said, 'although I do you. I am John Ranlee, the father of the unfortunate Marion. I saw much of yon ab the Glenmonb trial.? Wondering what could have brought his visitor there, Mr Uaybonsaid bhab he now recollected him, and Mr Ranlee continued : .

'Mr Cayton, when we met at that trial, although I gave you credit of acting i;i good faith, I believed that you were affording relief to the murderer of my daughter, and I admit I did not feel kindly toward you. On your part, perhaps you con* eidered me as one seeking the life of atj innocent person, and thought harshly of me. Whoever may have been in the righij I hope you will give me the credit oif having believed the man guilty. I think that my presence here to-nighb should eni title me to that much grace from you, for I have come to tell you of a recenb occurrence which may, and I foar does, point to the possibility of my having been in the wrong.' Cayfcon eagerly urged him to proceed, but Mr Ranlee who hud been speaking in a low voice, glanced cautiously toward the open windows, and asked if the conversation could be overheard. Cayton said he though b nob, bub recognising the necessity of caution, he arose and conducted hie companion to a scab a few yards down the walk, where they wero safely out ot the earshot of the servants who might be loitering about the house, and then, with a manner which betrayed his suspense, demanded to know what.had happened. •Mr Cayton,' Mr Ranlee said, 'you remember that on the trial of Gloumonb the poniard which waa found in the bushes, with which the murder was undoubtedly; done, was not shown to have been in the prisoner's possession before the crime, nor in any way identified or connected with any one.' 1 Perfectly,' Mr Cayton exclaimed. •Go on.' ' Well, Mr Cayton, I believe that it has now been identified and that one whose name I will give you knows to whom that weapon belongs.' 'Who is the man?' Cayfcon aaked, peremptorily. •Ib is nob a man, Mr Caybon, It is Mra Bell win.' •Mrs Bellwin!' Cayton repeated in astonishment. ' Are you sure ?' • You shall judge,' Mr Ranlee answered,' • when I have told you all I know. Mrs Bellwin has been tor many years an acquaintance of ours, and I am told is also a friend of yours. About two weeks ago she made.a social call upon my wife. . Before Mfs Bellwin married' and left the city she was quite intimate with my family and knew Marion well. During her call of the other day she professed a great friendship for my daughter, and so ib happened that Mrs Ranlee showed her some of the keepsakes which had been Marion's. Tneso things are kept in a drawer by themselves, and with them the poniard, which my wife prevailed on the district-attorney feo give her after the trial, albhough I did not like to have her take ib. However,, for some reason she wanted it, and has kepb ib ever since, though she never shows ib to any one. This drawer was pulled out nearly to its full width, and remained open while the ! ladies stood near by looking at some arbiclo thab had been taken from ib. Suddenly Mrs Bellwin mado an exclamation of surprise, seized something from the drawer and asked, with great animation : '• Why, where in the world did you get bhis?" On looking up, my wife saw that she had in her hand the poniard with which Marion was killed and was looking at ib with sparkling eyes. Upon being informed of the truth, Mrs Bellwin stared at Mrs Ranlee in evident doubt as well as astonishment, seeming to be too much surprisad to abbempbat firsb to practise a deception. But when the information was repeated and she was asked where she had seen the weapon before, she declared she had never seen it in her life ; bub Mrs Ranlea says she was painfully confused and embarrassed.

1 Mrs Ranlee insisted that she seemed to have recognised it, and asked her what; she meant by her question, " Why, where in the world did you get this V She answered that the exclamation was caused by her surprise at seeing such a weapon in so unexpected a place, and as she had by that time recovered hor usualself-possession, and insisted on her answer with considerable spirit, the matter was dropped. But, Mr Cayton, judging from my wife's description of Mrs Bellwin's conducb, there is not the least doubt in my mind that the lady had seen that poniard before, and fully identified it bhab day. 1

Cayton was elated and hopeful thab this information would lead to important results, bub Mr Ranlee's long story had given him time for reflection, and he answered with his usual caution:

'It does seem so. But where is ib possible thab she could have seen it and have been sufficiently familiar with it to.recognise it at \l glance V •Mr Cayton,' Mr Ranlee asked, • I know your interest in Miss Glenmonb, bub will you tell me whether Mrs Bellwin and Glonmbnb were intimate friends—or even acquaintances ?' •Certainly. I am very confident that she had never seen him or any one ot his family to know who they were,' Cayton answered.

While asking the last question, Mr Ranleo had regarded his companion with the closest abtention, and when he heard the answer he dropped his head upon his broasb, sighed, and seemed distressed. For a moment he remained dejectedly in this position, and then, raising his head, he said earnestly: • This occurrence may mean nothing. In the interest of my own peace of mind, I hope so ; bub ifc may tnaan much. If it indicates anything of consequence, ibpointa to a possibility of which I shudder to think. God help me if I have been wrong ! But I have acted conscientiously from the beginning, and now I shall keep my conscience clear by concealing nothing within my knowledge which ■ may throw light upon the hidden history of my daughter's death, though ib reopen the old wounds and make new onea. I have come to you in this spirit, and to you instead of another, because as Mi3B Glenmont's guardian you seetn the one most interested in arriving at the truth.'

Cay ton thanked him warmly in his own and in Agnes's name. ' Do nob give roe too much credit,1 Mr Kanlee replied, ' for I hesitated long before coming, and should have been glad could I have seen any way to avoid it, and Lave rested easy afterward. Bub I could not; and now if Herbert Glenmont shall be found to have been innocent, I shall bitterly regret hie conviction for the rest of

my life. Ib will; mako Marion'a death in-! deed a heavy Borrow.' 'But, Mr. Ranlee,' said Cayton, oub of sympathy for his companion's despondency, •albhough I have always believed in Glenmont's innocence, it does nob necessarily follow from this discovery.'

'No,' Mr Ranlee replied, ' bub a grave doubb of his guilt is raised. Observe bhe sibuation : On the trial, he was in no way connected with the weapon until after Marion's death. ..INow;comes this woman, who was, and for a long time has been, hundreds of miles away when the crime was committed, and who, you Bay, was a stranger to the convicbed man, and yet, beyond all doubt, she recognises the poniard at a glance. It doeeu'b look as if she could have been so familiar with Glenmont's weapon. Besides, she knew that Glenmonb had been convicted, and bo have found a poniard which she recognised as his, in the place where she found this one, ought not bo have surprised her greatly.' ' True,' said Cayton. ' I am reluctant to permib ray expectations to be excited too much for fear they may meet wibh disappointment; but you are right. Though this information of itself, indicates no individual as guilty, it certainly does, so far as it goes, point away from Glenmonb; and you may be asaurod that I shall not rest until ib has been followed so far as ib can be traced. May I call on Mrs Ranlee and talk with her personally, and may I take the poniard for safe-keeping?'

'You may dobobh.' Mr Kanlee, who had come bo Bosky Bay especially bo see Cayton, insisted upon returning to the city by the next train. Afber having accompanied' him to bhe depob, Cayton walked back to the cottage, absorbed in the unexpected news ho had heard. Ib had stirred his blood and had excited hopes he had supposed were never to be awakened ; yet suppressing bhe emthueiasm which he felt, and summoning his cooleab judgment, he began to consider whab course he oughb bo pureue.

While another in his place mighb have walked aba pace which would have indicated anxious excitement and eager hope, his step was slow, as became one whose mind proceeded cautiously, for bub few men while walking rapidly can reason wibh deliberation.

(To be continued.)