A Long Martyrdom.

Auckland Star, Issue XXXVI, 21 October 1905, Page 14

A Long Martyrdom.

By CHARLES W. HM!EAWJT, txfiUK of *A Sash Vow/ "Lows Gwding Hand," £ *Mar*«wie*s SireetaaMit,* •"Joseph Dane's TMpknnacy/* eta, etc

CHAPTER LJX— (Continued.) "I have roused his jealousy in xespect to Alma Dene. The woman is at .'■ my beck and call, ready to play him traitor, as she played her husband trai- ■ tor for him. I did not choose, at first, to let that jealousy take too strong a hold of him; he would have quarrelled with mc; but a few nights ago I went to the Court Theatre, where 1 knew he and Alma DeDe were going—went to her box during his absence, and flirted j with her—let him, when he returned, | overhear something I said to her; she j appeased him for the lime, but the suspicion slumbered in his mind, as 1 knew it would. "Last night, when the wine took effect upon him. he began to show that be was not really satisfied. I intend, in the next few days, to give him good ; souse for jealousy; I shall call at AJma Dene's house again; he shall meet mc there; nothing she can say to Idm will lull his suspicions this time —what real faith can he have in her? He will, perhaps, quarrel with her; in any case, he will believe that I am her lover —and, to far as she is concerned, he will be right. Then I go to him, tell him the proofs 1 have of his guilt—tell him how true Alma. Dene has been to him, and insist on knowing the whole truth. He will no longer care to shield Alma, and if hers was the hand that killed Herbert Dene, he will accuse her. Be will gain nothing by silence., for whatever he says or does, he cannot escape from the charge of conspiracy, and being an ac--csssory aftei the fact." Vera covered her face, trembling from head to foot. "Madonna mia!" was all she said; "Madonna mia!" Vivian made a step forward, and paused, crushing down the impulse to throw himself at her feet, and gather — her into his arms again. The fine instinct which had made him hold aloof, from her, while he told her this story, made him shrink from taking her to his heart, in the moment in which he, - - her lover, had avowed his intention to vrush, and utterly humiliate, tbe man who, villain though he was, was still her husband! Vera xaised her head after a little while, struggling for self-control. "There is no help for it!" she said, •in a desperate kind of way. "No help for it; but it is terribl?! I am glad, oh, so glad that Edgar cannot live. 1 have never prayed for his life, Vivian!" "Vera, dearest!" he went to her .then, and knelt before her. but : only clasped her hand in both his. "If Eustace Carew*S name could be cleared by any other means, 1 would thank Heaven that yon should be spared this cruel j pain; if for no otheT reason, for this, j that I am forced to appear before the whole world as your champion. But; there is no other way, Vera. Carew's' innocence can only beproved by finding the real offender."' "I know —I know! But. Vivian, suppose that it was Leicester who " "It could not be proved. Vera. Unless some fresh evidence, the existence of which ; is absolutely problematical, crops up, the murder of Herbert Dene lies between Leicester Sabine and Alma Dene. Each may accuse the other, but, as each would have a motive for so doing-, and there is no other evidence of individual guilt, neither can be brought in guilty of murder, nor can they both collectively. What is clear is. that the knife was either Sabine'* property or Alma's, that the letter was addressed to Sabine, and not to Carew, that Sabine and Alma conspired together to fix the crime on Carew, that either Sabine or Alma was an accessory to the murder, and, since the actual murder cannot be brought home to •either, that both were accessories. Indeed, it may not have been, and probably was not, deliberate murder. If, as I imagine.. Alma, in a fit of rage and terror, stabbed her husband, she may, when confronted with the evidence, confess her rrime, softening it into a matter of selfdefence. The balance is against ber; Sir Leicester is a tall, powerful man; Herbert Dene was a. much shorter, and neither so strong nor so active; he had no weapon, so that, even if he had attacked Sir * Leicester, Sabine could have floored him with perfect ease. It is preposterous to suppose that, even under the hypothesis of the knife being bandy, he would have committed a horrible, needless and dangerous crime. The worse Dene eoud do to him would not really injure him, whereas Alma had a *cry powerful motive for ridding herself af a husband whom she hated, and who . could drag her through the divorce court. Her word is, of course, hopelessly discredited, for, whatever she B3ys, she must contradict every tittle oi her former testimony." "Yes,' Vera said, "it is all clear; but, Vivian, must you prosecute Leicester for conspiracy?" "Dearest,, no; but I think that when the facts come out, the public prosecutor will take up that part of the case. I shall obtain from Sir Leicester a written confession of the truth. Then 1 will prosecute Alma Dene for the man- ■ slaughter of her husband, and at the j same time apply to the Divorce Court to have the decree quashed, or, I believe, it i3 a case for the Quet-.n s Proctor to intervene to prevent the decree being made absolute." Vera shivered, and clung moie closely to the hands that clasped hers. "And he will he saved!" she whispered; "innocent before the whole world—free! Oh! I can feel no pity for the man who plotted this hideous ■crime—my husband!". She bowed her head down in agony, shuddering convulsively; and Esmond Set his teeth, and was silent. What sould be, who loved the hapless wife, say to comfort, her in this crisis? She recovered herself somewhat after % little while, and asked Esmond what the penalty was for such conspiracy as that with which Sabine and Alma Tlene would be charged ? *T don't know exactly," he answered, Trot it would be a very heavy penalty, -posably a 20 years' sentence," years?" She looked at him with a strange horror in her eyes; then lier bead sank again. "Oh, Mary, -mothat my husband should" have "Slone iSus hideous wron"!" iSbe -was "trembling exceedingly; she ,-seemed for tbe time quite unnerved; i*he safeaajg, brave agarit that had borne sftpar.ieh!! _'.... 3!hen ■BiflßOnd jpassed his arm about ;AUd cdmsw her to ins. breast, and Sfcenderly caressed ibe bowed bead; and so at last he soothed her, and she lay .in .his arras .quite still, with classed eyes, Stesaffebing .quick and Horn. . Heaven knows what dread and fear" ■ ,*as in hie- heart that throbbed se iitaviI

Jy against hers! So near his task was to its finish—so near the future, that he bad put from him, but in a few viseetks, at latest, must face. No more mxxi for knightly service—Vera restored Try his band to name and fame — c-hilc'less, alone, a widow, and yet a wife.! "What must her lover do —-what eonlcl flesh and blood do to save his honour and hers? He prayed as he held her to his "breaod- prayed with tbe drops on his I brow: ! "Oh! God, save mc, save mc, in the hour of iemptation; grant that I may rather MO' myself than prove unfaithful!" He stayal with Yera tiil about eight o'clock, and then he left her; and she went to her room, and, sending Rosalie to lie down, took up her watch by Edj gars side. CITAPTER LX. FA.YE TO FACE. "Mr Esmond, are you going my way?" Piccadilly—a SEsny afternoon, mild and yet dry; all the world and his ' wife abroad; and Alma Itene put her head out of her b.rougbam, as it halted , opposite "the cor ncr of St. James'street. aDd gave hini that invitation. Fortune favouxe-I Esmond. There 1 could not be a betti ir time and place for the furtherance of his plans. He had intended calling on Its Dene this after- : noon, hut this renccuitfe was far preferable: it enabled him to substitute a shorter for a longer penance, and rendered it absolutely certain tfiai Sabine would hear of the meeting. To make , assurance doubly sure, there was Lnm- ' ley Dyson just turning round from St. James-street in time to hear Mrs Dene's . words, and to see. timi Esmond was not going Alma's vcayf, hut in the opposite direction. Esmond raised his bat, and crossed to the carriage, catching a wicked look from Dyson as he <h"d so. "Yoto are too good," Vivian said,, clasping Alma's hamd with empresse- . ment; "and the other night you were vexed with me-" "You scamp! you know I can't he. vexed for long. Stey> in, and if you like, come in and have tea with mc." "I should be delighted," be said, en- i tering the carriage, and taking bis place beside her, "but I am engaged —I. shall have to desert Paradise at the' corner of your Toad.*' "Oh., Esmond!" i "Honour bright—only a. friend!" "An impromptu friend." he added to himself, "innocent, enough, since 1 don't j even know her. or his, nasne." As the brougham drew on, Esmond j caught sight of three nseii lounging j along arm in arm, all of wfeom knew him, and all of -whom saw him. Good! j Vogue la galere! Of course that night at f2re club, Sir Leicester Sabine heard that Vivian Es- i mond bad entered Anna Dene's brongbam in Piccadilly, and driven off westward. There was nothing, prima , facie, in the circumstance, and Dyson, who first mentioned it, en passant, did . so without any apparent meaning; but that, ingenious person had a way of relating very trivial matters as if there , were something more in them than meets the eye; and this to an already jealous man is disquieting. Sir Lucian Carr. wbo "was standing near at the time, did not improve the situation by remarking: "Say, Sabine, you shouldn't allow it, you know. Esmond's a dangerous 1 customer, half the women are in love with him! I shouldn't care ahout his dangling after my fiancee, by Jove!" Which Sabine answered "with an execration, levelled at Esmond, and strode out of the club. It was too late to go down to Crom- ' well Houses; but tbe next morning, before noon, be threw himself into a hansom, and drove down to Alma's house, and there was an angry scene between them. Alms, furions at being attacked in this unceremonious fashion, answered defiantly the accusations hurled at her; and. in the end, she cut short the interview, and quitted tbe room, leaving Sabine in a white heat of jealous wrath. Alma, in the beat of hex emotion, wrote a long letter to Esmond, telling him what bad happened, in a measure reproaching him for it, hut professing undying love for him, and assuring him that it would all "blow over," and Leicester be "her slave" again. Esmond read tbe letter with a disgust strangely blended with a sense of grim humour, and, as be put it in , bis pocket-book, be said to himself: "There is no need to wait longer, tbe time is ripe. I will go to Prince's j Gate to-night, and bring Leicester Sa-; bine to his knees." Sabine did not go to the club that evening; be was afraid of meeting the possible jests of his friends. He dined sullenly alone, sat long over his wine, and went to the library afterward. His brain was heated, but perfectly clear; he bad taken care to keep it so, for bis intention was, if Esmond came this evening, to "have it out" with him; if be did not come, to write to him," demanding an interview and an explanation. About-half-past ten the library door opened, and a footman announced: "Mr Esmond." Sir Leicester started -to hie feet as his quondam comrade walked coolly into the room; but either he was prepared for an antagonistic reception, or he had some reason for a change of front on his own part, for, instead of advancing and offering bis- hand, he paused half-wav, and only bowed coldly. .. Sabine stared, decidedly "taken aback" by a mip-n and manner which were clearly premeditated, and had nothing to do with bis own changedmanner; but be recovered h mself almost immediately—-Esmond had not uttered a word —and said, wxathfully: "I am. glad to see you to-night, Mr Esmond. • I was about to write to you . to demand an explanation of your conduct to mc." ' "It is precisely to give you that explanation that i am here,'" replied Esmond, quietly, hut there "was am ominous glitter in his dark eyes, all the i lines of his handsome face were stern, pitiless; ""also to demand of yoa eex--1 tain truths which you wBl hardly care '. to impart, but which I must hare in .black and white before I leave this room." f | -"•ajreatsr' saJd Sabine, with a sneer, ■ iiouga a "strange tremor seised lam.

"Scarcely. Threads are for cowards and boasters. I* am b either. But fest, Sir Leicester, I -snfl'ifcear yottr indictment; tlien you sTiaH tear mine I s (To be eontimied daSrO.