The Mystery of No. 13.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXI, Issue 294, 11 December 1900, Page 6

The Mystery of No. 13.

CHAPTER NL

"But if once the message greet him, That his true love doth stay, If death should come and meet him, Love will find out the way." "You say you could not sleep that Slight," he said, sharply. "Were you expecting something to happen?" "I had toothache." "Why did you leave your door ajar?" Rose's eyes sparkled. Through the thin veil she wore one could see her thin nostrils contracting and dilating With rage. "That is my business." "You had no partiality for Mr Ross yourself." Pose disdained to answer. The question was pressed. "Mr Ross was a gentleman," she said at last. "You expected something to happen that night, and it did?" said Mr Lemaire. "Was it precisely what you did expect?" He leaned forward with a satirical emile on his face that might have maddened a less passionate woman than Rose Dupont. "You devil!" she exclaimed point blank. Mr Lemaire shrugged his shoulders, some women in the court tittered, and there was a. little pause while Rose recovered from ber violence and forced herself to mutter an apology. "Upon my soul I shouldn't wonder if she did it herself," thought Mr Lemaire. "To resume," he said, smoothly, "you are quite sure that Mr Ross did not get any further than the drawingroom on the night when—ahem!—-your toothache enabled you to have the full benefit of your ears?" "I could not say." (Rose's breast still rose and fell stormily.) "At that distance I could not hear bow far he descended, but I should probably Lave heard the street door shut had j he gone out. He usually made a good j deal of noise." "Your impression is that he went no further than the drawing-room?" . "That is my impression." "Did not curiosity impel you to go downstairs and see what was taking place?" "That would not have been a part of my duty." "Was it a part of your duty to drug the draught your mistress took the last thing that night?" The Frenchwoman turned livid as a corpse, her black eyes glowing like fire. "I?" she faltered, off her guard at last, "I—" She tried to speak, could not, then taking her corsage with both hands, said firmly, "I mixed no draught for my mistress. I put the things ready as usual on a little table and left them there." Jack was listening with the most intense eagerness, Ms hand clutching the rail before him Had Elizabeth IE-en drugged that night? Had he been all along undeu the influence of a horrible mistake? And was she indeed inhumanly wronged, not only in appearance, but by his thoughts?" "Was Mrs St. George addicted to chloral?" Mr Lemaire put the question in his gentlest, therefore most dangerous manner. Rose was silent. It was on Jack's lips to shout out "No, no!" but he restrained himself. "You knew the sapphires were in the pocket of her dressing gown?" "No," said Rose, with stubborn lips; •'Mrs St. George hid them in all sorts of places, but never told me where* I have known other ladies to do the same with their jewels, because they j objected to having a safe put up." A juryman here remarked that he j (thought such carelessness criminal and \ a direct encouragement to burglaries. "You never spoke to your lover—-the j young Frenchman with whom you j walked out—of the sapphires?" said Mt Lemaire, amiably. Rose looked, at him calmly. She 3iad herself well in hand now, and was prepared for th_ worst. "What we talked about was no busi» 3_ess of yours,"' she said coolly. "But it may have been that of your . mistress," he said, "and your master," j he added, looking at Jack, upon whose face a new light had broken, turning. St to joy. I Life had changed its mien for him j 'during the space of the last minute, ; and from the abyss of despair he j passed at a bound to the buoyancy of hope, and, covering his face with his hands, he trembled like a reed. Guilt was stamped on Rose's face, stamped there in letters that all her j fierce control of feature could not hide; but she bore herself erect, and ; had evidently plenty of fight left in \ fo.ec yet. j "You spend a good deal of time at ; .he cobbler's, the back of whose house overlooks No. 13, do you not?" said , Mr Lemaire. I go there occasionally to get Master Daffy's shoes mended, and buy him new ones," said Rose, hardily. You are aware that there is a skylight in tbe cobbler's bouse, from which a person might easily drop on j to the leads that are level with the : room in which Mrs St. George slept that night?" ; "So I heard afterwards. To me the roof looked all slates, like your Eng-

By HELEN B, MATHERS,

lish roofs —and I saw no window." "You are an old acquaintance of the young Frenchman who has assisted the cobbler in his work only so far back as a few months, and " "Mon Dieu! non," said Kose, raising expressive brows ,"this young man is common — very common —and he seems not to be French, he speaks English always." "Almost as well as yourself?" said Mr Lemaire, dryly. "How does he call himself?" Hose's eyes narrowed. "How should I know?" she said. The solicitor's inquiries had not been able to establish the identity between the Frenchman with whom she had kept company and the man ; who was the cobbler's assistant, but Mr Lemaire meant to assume it all the same. "You have known Janin Pierrot many years?" he said. The shot told, and for a momen" I she looked as if she were about, to ; fall. I "I know no Janin Pierrot," she said with shaking lips. "I fear you have a treacherous memory," said Mr Lemaire, smiling, as with a gesture he released her and rerumed his seat. W rorsted, not broken, savage as a wild-cat that knows itself trapped, and expects worse things, Rose left the witness-box, and for a while disappeared. Astonishment at the new turn things had taken was now growing apace, but Mr Skewton's appearance on the scene heralded a volte face that speedily caused the readjustment of a good many newly acquired ideas, and blew the theory expounded by Mr Lemaire into thin air. Mr Skewton described how he had proceeded straight to the room where Mr Ross bad been shot, the body having already been removed to his own chamber. He deposed to the prisoner's excessive, agitation, to tbe pistol which be was concealing in his breast pocket, and which he (Mr Skewton) took from him; to his voluntary confession of the murder, how it happened, and in fact all save the motive that evidently prompted it. He further related how in Mr Ross' room, partly disordered, as if in the act of undressing he had suddenly gone down stairs, he had found an envelope on the toilet table addressed to that gentleman; how he had taken it down to the prisoner, who recognised it as his wife's handwriting; of what a terrible effect was produced upon him by the sight of it, and of how valuable a link in the chain of evidence he considered that scrap of writing supplied. Being brought to book for this last remark, Mr Skewton imperturbably went on to relate how he went up to Mrs. St. George's room, where he found her locked in with ber maid; hoW ( presently she opened the door to him, and presently accused herself of having killed Mr. Ross: how, by an incautious gesture, he had mdiii cated the pistol in his pocket; bow she had snatched it from nim, and declared that with it sh.» had committed the crime; how he had treated her words as idle ravings, how Mr. St. George had come up and forbidden her to so perjure herself; and how she had begged him (her husband) to speak to her before he went down, and how her husband had refused. Jack's face was white and drawn as he listened. Had she not kneeled to him, his good, his' pure, little Eliza- ] beth, and had he not spurned her as though she were the vilest of God's creatures? Could she forgive him? I Was her silence indeed the silence of outraged loveMhat had turned to hate? 'Mr Skewton went on to say that j the most diligent inquiry had failed ! j&o discover any trace of any person !6r biirglar rentering the house on that j night. •. True,1,, there was thei skylight, but the cobbler who lived in the house was.above suspicion, or, rather, physically incapacitated from attempting burglary, and he was the only person who had slept in the place that night. His assistant slept out, and it had ! been positively proved that he did : sleep at his lodgings that night, as he (Mr. Skewton) had made it his busii ness to find out. He had gone straight ! there after work, gone to bed early, had breakfasted there next morning, 1 and only got the news of the murder when he returned to work. His name was Janin Pierrot. With regard to the tumbler, which undoubtedly contained a sediment of chloral, he had removed it without being perfectly sure of what it had contained, but it smelt odd, and at that time he had his own theory about the murder. Mr. Skewton's evidence produced a profound impression. However much he had erred in his zeal.and officiously assisted Jack along his road to the gallows, thereby earning for himself the "hammering" of the judge, he had spoken to facts, and proved tbem, too; while as yet Mr. Lemaire had nothing substantial with which to support his theory. Nevertheless, he was in his best form when he jumped up and said: "You suspected the French maid from the beginning?" "I thought she had a hand in the destruction of the missing letter." "You think so still?" "No." "What do you think?" "That Mrs. St. George obtained possession of it, and destroyed it herself." "And your impression was that the maid had doctored the draught?" "At first—yes." "In order, to put her mistress into a sound sleep while the sapphires were stolen?" ; ".Yes." ' ' f "Yon did not believe Mr. St. George , when be accused himself ol the murder?"- '-- . I +C?* **"ght not have done, without j .t&e^confirmatory evidence of the pis-

"You say you saw he was hiding it in his breast. May he not have picked it up from where it had been flung by some other person?" '"It is possible. But his demeanour was that of a guilty person." "Which you took care to intensify. Does it not strike you that you went considerably beyond your duty in trying to get him to incriminate himself?" Mr Skewton was silent. "Even after this convincing evidence of the prisoner's guilt, you held to your theory that a burglar had something to do with tbe business?' "Yes, But after working continuously at the case I was reluctantly obliged to dismiss tbe idea-, tber e was absolutely no evidence to support it." "You did not even ascertain that the cobbler's assistant was Rose Dupont 's lover?" "No." "Then I congratulate Scotland Yard on you," said Mr Lemaire, contemptuously, as he sat down. But jurymen are usually plain men, who do not cultivate their imaginations, and who are apt to sift even facts to their extremest winno wingpoint, so that Mr Lemaire's cross-ex-amination appeared to them in the light of fireworks, that did no harm, if but little good. Job Trubshoes, the cobbler, was next called, not so much as a witness against the prisoner, as to offer rebutting testimony to the possibility of any person having got from his house into No. 13 that night. Pushed into the witness-box against his will, and presenting as crabbed an appearance as a human being well could,he answered thequestions put to him slowly and grudgingly at first but presently got angry, and gave out his snarls quicker. What he had to say had been large-: ly discounted by Mr Skewton, but, he was made to relate in detail what hours his apprentice kept, and many other details, that made that young man appear to industrious and harmless creature who would not hurt a fly, and who by no manner of means could have obtained entrance to the cobbler's house, unknown by the cobbler, that night. But just as the cross old man was congratulating himself on his ordeal being over, Mr Lemaire rose, and pounced upon him ,like a spider on afly. "How long has Janin Pierrot been with you?" "I * don't rightly remember. Tt might be a mouth—or two—-or six." "Take care, sir. How many months has he been with you?" "Three." i "You wanted- an assistant, and be cam® to you to offer himself?" "A-y, he did." "How came he to know you wanted an assistant?" "How do I know? Praps you told him." "And you took him without recommendations?" "Praps I did, and praps I didn't." ' "You took him without recommendations?" "Since ym're so pressing, I did." "He was a good workman?" "Good enough for me." "Did • a Frenchwoman call to see him?" "I don't encourage no petticoats about the place. I'm a bacheldore, I am, thank the Lord." "She did call?" "One called yesterday." "Was that her first visit?" "Women be such figgers nowadays., and dress so much alike —how can. I tell?" Mr Lemaire pressed the point—to his sorrow. "I tell 'cc," said Job, getting angry, "I never saw the woman—nor did Pierrot for the matter of that—till about a fortnight ago, when sh.e came in in a hurry to get a shoe eased for a little child she had with her. And she never said a w^ord to he, nor he to she." Mr Lemaire swallowed his chagrin bravety. "You knew she was maid to Mrs St. George?" "No." "You knew her name?" "No. Neighbours told me afterward she came from No. 13, but her money was as good as any one else's, so I wasn't going to turn it away.". "And what time did Pierrot leave off: work?" "Six o'clock." "He left at that time the night of the murder?" "He did." "You remained in- the house all the evening?" "Yes." "You never once left the house?" Job Trubshoes hesitated, scowling and mumbling- his grizzly jaws. "Praps I did. For a matter of five minutes. To buy my supper beer." "You left your door unlocked?" "Yes." "Any one might have got in during your absence?" /- "Who wanted to get in?" snarled the old man. "I'd got nothing to .steal." "It was dark when you went out?" "Cat's twilight." ■ "Did you visit the attic that night?" "No; it's a lumber-room,. What should I want there at night?" ■ Mr Lemaire nodded his head several times. "What time did Janin come next morning?" "Eight o'clock." "Did he look as usual?" "A man don't change his face with his coat. I took no particular notice on him." "Some inquiries were made at your house that day?" "Yes, a, passel of fools who turned the place upside down, and me and Janin inside out. But they didn't get, much change out of either on us." "He has come regularly to work ever since?" "Never missed a day." _ "Seems cheerful?" "Shoemaking don't want cheerfulness, it wants skill. Janin stuck to _is work, and didn't trouble about women, and murders, and such-like stuff. Lor, sir!" added the old wretch with a grin, "you've found a mare's nest, and much good may it do 'cc!" So departed Job Trubshoes; but Mr Lemaire had made his point, viz: that Janin could easily have returned to the house unknown to Job have hidden himself in the disused attic and made his -way coxnifOT-ta-bly enough into No. 13. Could—might have—but did he? The alibi was very cl__-\ And then the court adjourned for luncheon. (To be continued.)