A CONSPIRACY of SILENCE

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIX, Issue 234, 30 September 1908, Page 10

A CONSPIRACY of SILENCE

H BY SIDNEY WARWICK,

P§B Author of "In Name Only," "Leflert's Dilemma,*' "The Knave of Diamonds," iIJS ~ 7- 7- -~ Z T. '.".A- Perilous Tryst," -etc. ... IHf V_ Z. "*.' '_ 7 T7- -7 ' ""' ****. ?".-'. I

mind now of the identity of tbe woman. ■ Aihvyn's guilty start had betrayed him at her reference to the crime. But Olive dropped no hint of what she bid discovered, as she and Ailwyn drove back to their hotel after the play. At the hotel next day Olive caused copies of a newspaper for tho last fortnight to be procured for her. She .studied . them in her own room \vith a feverish ■ eagerness. The arrival in England of Duchesne, | cind his identification of the ring taken . by Burgoyne to Scotland Yard, had caused a revival of interest in the crimp, and | Olive found a resume of the facts in the , paper before her. as well as a portrait of the dead woman. As she had expected, it was the woman of the photograph . that had come from Mrs Ferrol's bureau. ( From the newspapers she learned that no portrait of the missing husband had . been found, though the charwoman employed by Mrs "George Ailwyn" stated that a photograph of husband and wife. L taken together at the time of their wedding, had disappeared from the flat. The charwoman had seen him when he called in the afternoon of the. fatal day. searching eagerly for something. ll'd it been for this portrait of himself? Only . the photograph had not been in its usual place at the time; she, the charwoman, happened, to have taken it into the kitchen, since the frame wanted cleaning. After the discovery of the crime that night she had noticed that the frame was empty. Possibly the husband of the dead , woman had taken the photograph away, if he had paid that second visit of which he was suspected. Could it he, Olive wondered, that the vanished photograph that the newspapers spoke of was that in her possession? Yet, | if so. how had it come to be in a secret drawer in Mrs Ferrol's bureau? What Olive searched for first with feverish haste i nthe newspaper account was the date of the murder. The date on which the crime had taken place had been the day on which Ailwyn went to London to procure the license for their hurried wedding. On that clay this woman, his wife, was alive. Ailwyn had gone to the flat where she lived. On that day the woman had been murdered! Olive lifted her eyes from the printed sheet and stared blankly before her. as though staring into dim distances of horror. "On the day that Ailwyn went to get the license," she whispered voicelessly to herself, "he contemplated either murdering this woman who was in the background of his life—or else going through a marriage ceremony with mc that would be no marriage! Which?" CHAPTER XVI. THE ARRESTED WORDS. It was the Assize week at Brayley. The judges had entered the town with the usual pomp, and circumstance of such occasions. Several minor cases were disposed of on the opening da}-. Mr Justice Vail had announced that he should set apart the second day for the Rodent-murder, case, the grand jury having found a tru'i bill Against Dennis G&rth. The court "was crowded. Local interest in the case was intense. Sitting on one side of the judge was the high sheriff, his thin, aristocratic face haggard and care-worn, marked by a suppressed agitation that did not pass unnoticed. But it caused little sur- I prise; it was known that Sir Lionel Trent's wife had been dangerously ill for many weeks, and her condition the | cause of grave anxiety. Ailwyn Trent occupied a seat on the bench near his father. His face was -ti-hite, and all through the opening proceedings he sat with his eyes downcast. The prisoner having pleaded "Not guilty," the counsel for the. prosecution rose to make his speech. The old ground was gone over again—the known bad relation existing between the prisoner and the dead man, the violent threats used by the former on the morn- ■ ing of the crime, of which evidence would be forthcoming. Witnesses would be called to show that the prisoner had been ■ seen leaving the cliffheights in an agitated state shortly after the time fixed by the coastguard's evidence as that when the tragedy took place; the dead mail's sister, attracteFl 'Tto the.fatal spot by a cry she believed to have been her brother's, had, as she ran up, seen a man flying from the actual scene of the crime—a man whom she identified as the prisoner. He—counsel —would point out to the jury that the evidence, if purely' circumstantial, was strong; the guilt in almost every murder case had to be fixed by circumstantial evidence. In one of the corridors, just by a door that led into the court, a woman was waiting in a fever of suspense. When the door was closed only a confused murmur with an occasional word here a-nd there could be heard; when it was opened the clear, precise tones of the counsel reached distinctly the little group in the corridors. Two lawyers, one coming out and one going in, met and talked for a moment. The woman listened feverishly. "Roden murder case on?" "Yes; strong evidence foreshadowed. It may convict the prisoner." ' They passed their different ways, leaving the listening woman still whiter. It was Olive. An agony of suspense had driven her to the court, the feeling that she must hear how the case proceeded. But at the doors her courage had failed. She could not sit and watch the man she loved tried for his life. The counsel for the prosecution ended his speech; a hum of voices rose, almost instantly quelled by the usher's voice enjoining silence. A' witness' name was called. Several spectators came out into the corridor talking. "A strong speech. It impressed the jury. If the judge's face is any guide, he's dead against the prisoner." In court the witnesses were being examined. "Not a doubt the prisoner is guilty," Olive heard a red-faced attorney saw who had just bustled out on bis wav to a civil court, pausing to chat with a confrere. "Evidence of bad blood—tho dead man had g»->ne out of his way to make mischief between the prisoner anFl his father; evidence that he was on the =pot that night. Tlie dead man's sister almost s'vooiipcl as «h° gave evidence hut no cross-examinntioTi co'ild her. Saw the prisoner running fro'n scene of crime immediately after hearing brother's last cry —and not another soul in sight. Swore positively it was the man. Defence's case, of course, was that she mistook the identity of the man she saw in the dusk; but she stuck to her assertion. Coast-guard saw struggle through his glasses, and the assailant wore light clothes. It was shown by

CHAPTER XV "THOU -ART THE MAX." Mrs Ferrol looked strangely white, | Before answering her husband she said in a low. insistent voice to Olive: "Mrs Trent, you must give mc hack that photograph. It cannot possibly be that ot" your husband. Give it back to mc and think no more of it." Olive shook her head. . "Xo; you must let mc keep it for the present.*' Olive"? face was colourless: her eyes glittered feverishly. Mrs Ferrol was eager to treat the episode of that photograph as a thing ended. Ended? It' was only beginning! That photograph had been like a searchlight suddenly fla=h"d across dark, hidden places of her husbn-nd's life. Without another word, Mrs Ferrol opened the door. She was smiling as she faced her husband and thpir visitor. Whatever it was that harl caused her unaccountable agitation at Olive's exclamation that the portrait was Ailwvn Trent's. Mrs Ferrol's face betrayed no traces of it now. For a moment Olive, conscious of some mystery in the dark of which she was> groping blindly, wondered if Ailwvn and Zoe Ferrol had met before. But there * was no gleam of recognition as he was . introduced tn his hostess. "Zoe, niv dear —Mr Ailwvn Trent." "We were so sorry you could not come to dinner. Mr Trent."' said Mrs Ferrol, -in her tranquil tones. They adjourned to the parlour, whpre ; coffee hail been served. Mrs Ferrol talked to Trent. She was a woman who F coulrl talk well, and to-night she seemed 'at her best. Only under tlie light, ' bright froth of her conversation. Olive, '~ watching, saw a hint of effort, a nervous restlessness, an echo of tlißt fear - that her guest's startled cry. ''This is my husband's photograph!" had brought •' into her eyes. Yes, it had been a look * of fear. Mr Ferrol sat by Olive's side, talking !to her. She answered mechanically, but she was hardly conscious of what he was * saving. She could only think of the st-mling discovery she had made. She , could not be mistaken: in spite of Airs [ Ferrol's disclaimer, it was her husband's : photograph. She even recognised in it a scarf-pin she had often seen Ailwyn J wear. j And Mrs "George Ailwvn,"' whom from ; the inscription on the hack of the photoI graph her husband had married two f years previously. j. Ab! now she remembered—a woman > of that name had within the past few I weeks been murdered! Could it be the same. woman? And, I if so. when had she died? j Olive had not read the details of the crime, of which she had been reminded j by the arrival of Mr Armand Duchesne I at the hotel some days ago, and his [ connection with the case through the ! odd circumstances of a ring; but she ; knew that suspicion attached to the vie- . tim's husband, who had disappeared on ; the very clay of the crime and had not '• been traced. - *™ "Mr TJerEol.''.-sEe7said suddenly,, in. ji s clear voice" that "could be heard'acrdss I the room, "you perhaps have heard that " a celebrity is staving at our hotel?" "Who is that, Mrs Trent?" "One. of thg_suryivors of the Saracen f —Mr Duchesne, whose dead wife's wedding ring was so strangely thrown out * of the window of the Mrs George Ail- ■ tvyn who was murdered."' Olive was not looking in the direction ! of Mrs Ferrol or her husband as she ! 6poke the deliberate words that were to s test-her suspicions. But in the tilted j mirror behind her host, on which her I eyes were .bent, she „ could- see .every ' movement of the man and the woman | sitting at. the other side of the room. \ —There was a sudden crash. ■ The I empty coffee cup that Ailwvn had been !, holding lay on the carpet, shivered. Mrs j Ferrol had stopped abruptly in the midst i of a low ripple of laughter. The arti- > ficial smile had been struck from her 1 face: she was white to the very lips. ] Startled by the crash, Mr Ferrol had 1 turned; then he jumped to his feet and Went quickly to his wife's side. < "Zoe, you are ill?"' he cried in alarm. Olive was no less startled. Mrs Ferrol looked as if she were on the point 7 of- fainting.I Er* _ am afraid T startled Mrs Ferrol '•'. by my unpardonable "clumsiness," said 3 Ailwyn. . "I don't know how I could § have been so stupidly careless." r 'Mrs Ferrol recovered herself with an k effort, and met her husband's anxious fc look with a forced-smile, f; "Xo, I am quite well. It is nothing, j "Robert. I ought not to be such a creat--7 tire of nerves, to let a little thing like ?» that startle mc. And you looked quite r i' alarmed. Robert! We ought to be startl ing for tlie theatre soon," she added. '{' glancing up at the little Dresden clock. *,:■ "But if you are not well enough— '-—" 1" began her husband. - • v -."Nonsense, Robert: tfeare is nothing a", the matter with mc, nothing at all," and ii bis wife forced a laugh. Colour waa It coming back to her cheeks. "Of course j; I am going to the theatre. The carriage Ii will be at the door in five minutes, and ,7 I hate to arrive when a play has begun. 7- 3drs Trent, shall we go .and get* our I" .wraps?"' X The ladies went out. In the bedroom * Mrs Ferrol faced Olive suddenly. "j? "Mrs Trent, once again 1 want you to !' give mc back that photograph to let mc ;j- burn it. I insist. I don't want you to— I to get any foolish fancies into your head gr about it, especially since I see now there i. is something of—of a likeness to Mr I Trent. But, 0 f course, you are now cou- £ vineed"—with a little nervous laugh, §f while her eyes, which yere not smiling, f. never left Olive's face—-"you are con--1: vincod now what an absurd mistake you i, fell into." I- Olive, too, fenced with a light laugh. "You must please allow mc to retain it i- Sot the present,"' she said, as if carelessly. I "It certainly is veiy like my husband; _' the resemblance startled mc at first, in If fact One often reads of doubles, § ; but I never thought they existed. 1 proIt mise not to mention your name in conntc?i tion with it. lam sure you cannot object '§. to lend the photograph to mc," with r, E annness under the seemingly indifferent W irords that meant to take no denial. y It was a musical comedy that the thea--1 ire-party went to see. Olive's eyes, bent f; on the lighted stage, scarcely saw the y glittering spectacle; the spoken WordI hrtrdly conveyed any meaning to her. I That photograph and all that it meant ! absorbed her ■ thoughts. , _. '"Mr and Mrs George Ailwyn on their wedding day," was written on it. *And now Mrs "George Ailwyn" was idead —murdered —and the police Tcere j looking for the missing husband, who waa t Olive's husband now. j: No shadow of doubt existed in her P.. L* :

other witnesses, who subsequently saw the prisoner making his way front the cliff, that he was wearing light clothes." -

Olive set her teeth. The torture of waiting! And the case going badly against the man she loved! Witness after witness. The detective from Scotland Yard stated that he had made investigations about the scene of the crime. Had found lying at the foot of the cliffs among the rocks a silver cigarette-case, bearing the prisoner's initials. "Did it occur to you that this cigar-ette-case might have fallen over in the course of a struggle?" "It did," said the detective. Sir Lionel Trent had started. He turned and bent a swift glance upon bis . son as this evidence was elicited. Was it , a glance of suspicion? | Ailwyn could not meet his eye. Under j his father's searching gaze he had become j white; his hand shook. While the detective was giving his evidence, Sir Lionel , bent toward his son and whispered j sternly: I ' "Ailwyn, do you know anything of this? You und I have cause to know) that nothing of Garth's could have fallen I ' over in that struggle!" Ailwyn. tried to speak, but no words would come. Suspicions and a sudden overwhelming . horror were on Sir Lionel. A crowd of thoughts filled his brain. He was think- ! ing of that meditated infamous act which had estranged him from his son —of that night when he had found Ailwyn on the cliff, of the blackthorn stick belonging i to Dennis Garth that his son would have thrown over to fabricate apparent evidence against its owner. i But surely Ailwyn, whose intention in respect to the stick he had forestalled, could not have done'this! Ailwyn bad | professed contrition for a sudden mad im- ! pulse. It would be too horrible to believe his son could have done this. I As these thoughts flashed through his mind, there was an interruption. "Ifs a lie!" 1 Interrupting the detective's evidence, this passionate cry rang through the court. It broke from the prisoner, evidently in a state of uncontrollable excitement. "It is a lie to suggest that I dropped that case! It is mine—l admit it is mine. But I haven't carried it fori months. The catch was broken; I left the thing lying in a drawer. If it was found at the foot of the cliff some enemy put. it there." "Prisoner, you will do yourself no good by such interruptions," said the judge. "Your counsel will have an opportunity of dealing with the evidence. You must be silent." To Sir Lionel Trent the interruption j was startling; Dennis Garth's passionate cry seemed like a sudden confirming of the terrible suspicions that he had been trying to fight down. His eyes were bent on his son's ashen face; in every twitching line of it he seemed to read confirmation. Guilty, guilty, guilty! '"This was your work!" he whispered in a passion of indignant scorn. "This trial must be stopped at any cost. If you refuse to speak the truth now, 1 shall speak! You may choose." Ailwyn Trent made no movement to rise. He sat with a grey face. "You must be mad," he whispered back. "1 shall deny it, if you are so mad as to speak; 1 shall deny everything!" But even as he spoke he, could not believe that • his father would keep' his threat. In Sir Lionel's face were mingled horror and scorn. This his son? How could that be. when all the traditions of his race were of brave, honourable men! And this man was a coward, and worse. He rose to his feet. Tlie truth must be told —the trial must not go on. Too long he had disregarded his duty, paltered with his sense of honour, in acquiescing in this conspiracy of silence. Xo consideration could justify that silence; and now, after this evidence, since Ailwyn refused to speak, he would speak. A shuddering horror had seized Ailwyn. Heavens'. His father meant to keep his i threat! - | "My lord!" the old. proud, broken man I cried, in tones of intense emotion that sent a strange thrill through the court; and the judge peered at the speaker in surprise at this unusual interruption. "My lord, 1 must speak. My son —" For an instant his voice faltered and broke. After all, be had loved his son. Someone was standing by his elbow, a I court attendant, who had come through the baize door at the back of the bench. Hp had a telegram in his hand: In a dazed way 'Sir Lionel took it and opened it mechanically, even as he tried to frame the words that would exculpate Dennis Garth. : "My lord, my son —" 1 Then the words of the telegram leaped up to his eyes in a sudden blinding shock; and under the startled eyes of the crowd- • ed Court Sir Lionel seemed suddenly to • collapse—the words he would have said - unspoken. I With a little gasping cry he fell forward. Ailwyn had leaped to his feet and ' sprang forwards to his father, lying in a i huddled heap half-over the desk in front i of his seat. 1 The open telegram had fluttered down •on to the desk. Ailwyn's eyes caught i the words: i "\ou must be prepared for bad news i about Lady Trent." And Ailwyn knew then that his mother ' was dead. Sir Lionel Trent was carried out of court to one of the ietiring:rooms, and doctors were almost immediately in at- . tendance. A stroke had paralysed him down the left side. He lay in a comatose state all the while he was being driven home to the ■ house where his wife lay dead; and in ' this condition he was borne into the hall - and carried upstairs to his own room. ■ Xot until the evening, after an uncoui scion, ness of several hours, did Sir Lionel shows signs of -a rally. (To be continued next Saturday.'