A MODERN JULIET.

Auckland Star, Volume XL, Issue 272, 15 November 1909, Page 8

A MODERN JULIET.

BY CHARLES GARVICE

Author of "By Devious Ways," "The llarquis," "Lorrie, o r Hollow Gold," "She Loved Him." CHAPTER XXn.— (Continued.) "That is just what I said to Yates ♦hen he told me-," he said. "It is impossible, it i= absurd! I have seen Harry Wrayforde—l talked -with him yesterday, not long before the—the murder. Xo man who knows him, as slightly as I do, could possibly deem him guilty of so vile, so mean a crime:" Diana turned her eyes upon him, and her lips moved. "Thank you, father/ , she said in a Toiee inaudible to Yates. "It is not for mc to express an opinion, Mis-s Leigh," he said; "but if it were, I should echo your and Sir Edward's sentiments. I have known Mr. Harrj for years, ever since he was a boy, and, speaking as a polk-e officer and one who has had some experience on the force, 1 should say it was impossible that he should he guilty. But"'—he paused for an instant—'•but there is the evidence. I do not say it is damning—l do not say it cannot be cleared away, but the facts I have stated are indisputable, and there i= no other course open to mo than to a>k tor Mr. Harry's arrest. I ■wish the case were in other hands, but whoever took viartre of it would be obliged to act as I am doins. There is no other course Open to them." -Where is Mr.—Wrnyforde''" said Diana. She \ra; stiil white, but quite cairn, though her brow? were drawn together "with the anguish she wa- enduring. ""Why not go to him anil tell him. and ask fo r an explanation? lie •will be able to explain everything; he may be able to help you to find the murderer." Yates looked at her gravely. "There is nothing , I should like better. Miss Leigh." he said: "hut Mr. Harry las disappeared. He left the Manor last night unseen by anyone. Xo onknows where he has gone; he did not tell even Mr Chantry Payne. Sir Edward. I am sorry to hurry you. but time is flying, every moment is of importance, and I must ask you for the warrant." Sir Edward stood trembling and hesitating still. Diana broke the silence. Drawing herself to her full height, her violet eyes flashing, her lips proud and resolute, she said: '"Father, give Mr Yate« the warrant." With a groan. Snr Edward sank into a chair at the table, and with trembling hands wrote out the warrant. Diana t"K>k it from him. and held it out to Yates. she said. "When you rind Mr Wrayforde tell hi mthat no one at Thatehborough believes him guilty." "Xor anywhere else. Miss Leigh," said Yates. solemnly. They heard him galloping up the avenue; and they sat and listened in a dull, benumbed fashion, until the sound of the horse's hoofs had died away; it peeined as if neither of them could speak: Sir Edward sat with his head leaning on his hand Diana clasped the other tightly "How long will it He before they overtake him, father? - ' she asked. Sir Edward shook his head. ; 'I do not know; I can scarcely think," he replied. ''He will have gone to London." said Diana to herself. "He will come, back ■with Mr Yates and explain everything; the man who did it will be caught." For a second she almost broke down, but she mastered her emotion and rose. '"Father, can nothing be done? It is terrible to sit here idle —waiting, waiting:" Sir Edward paced up and down the room. He looked ill and worn, and every cow and then thrust his hand inside his waistcoat towards his heart. "I will go to the Manor and make inquiries,"' he said, brokenly. "The man who lies there dead and I were foes; we have never exchanged a word; but death ends all quarrels, and God knows there is nothing in my heart towards him but pity. Yes, T will go." She kissed him. "It is like you, father," she said. ••Yes, go." She herself ordered the carriage, and stood by it as he got in. '"Come back and tell mc everything." she said. "I must know; it is bettrr." Sir Edward was driven to the Manor. A group of people, villagers and tradesmen, were standing at the gate. They made way for the carriage to pass, gravely saluting Sir Edward and staring at the carriage wonderingly. " Tis a long time since a Leigh came Upon Wrayforde land," remarked one man. "Eh, death do work miracles," was the Tesponse. "I doubt if the earl were alive to receive him. Sir Edward would meet with but a cold welcome."' Sir Edward looked up at the Manor with a strange expi ?=sion on his pale and careworn face. He had never crossed the threshhold of his enemy's house. Could he do so now? The butler came down the steps, and, suppressing all signs of his surprise, opened the carriage door, and bowed respectfully. "I came to know—to ask it there was anything I could do," faltered Sir Edward. Before the butler could reply, Chantry Payne came down the steps. He advanced to the carriage, and held out his hand at once. "This is very good of you, Sir Edward," he said in a grave voice. "You could only just have heard the terrible news, and to have come to us thus promptly—" He stopped, as if silenced by his emotion. He was very pale, but quite self-possessed, and his manner was an admirable mixture of gratitude and deference. "Will you not come in? I beg that you will do so." Sir Edward got out of the carriage and entered the hall, and stood with bent head as Chantry Payne told him what Yates had already recounted. "I have "issued the warrant," said Sir Edward, almost inaudibly, and without looking up. Chantry Payne inclined his head. "A mere formality," he said. "Xo one suspects my cousin Harry. Everyone knows, feels, that he is inoeent." Sir Edward nodded once or twice. It was good to hear this young man speak EO confidently. "You would like to see my uncle?" said Chantry Payne in a low voice. He spoke* as if he took Sir Edward's desire for granted, and Sir Edward assented by a gesture. "Thank you." he said. "If —if I should not be deemed intrusive." "I shall be very grateful if you -will come,' , he said. Sir Edwnrd followed him up to the silent room, and approaching the bed, looked down upon the face of his dead foe, Death's hand had smoothed the ruggedness of the features; the stern lipa ware relaxed; the Eternal Peace rented oa t£e cn.ee flenx* fciews.

Sir Edward's face worked and his lipe quivered. He raised his hand above his head with a gesture of entreaty. "God forgive us both!" he eaid, solemnly. "Amen!" murmured the arch hypocrite at his elbow. CHAPTER XXIII. Mr. Yates felt quite certain that he should overtake Ham' Wrayforde, say, within twelve hours. He wired a description of the fugitive to the police head-quarters in London, and then set men to watch at the various railway termini and docks and a detective met Mr. Yates at Waterloo. '"Your man has got the start of you. Mr. Yates," he eaid. "But I don't think he came up by the .London train, for I happened tt> be on the look-out on another business, and I should have noticed him; there xvre not too many handsome men of his description about, and I must have remarked him. Of course, ho may have been disguised. , ' "Oh, no."' said Yates. "He wouldn't be disguised; he's not that sort. Besides, he didn't do it." His fellow-officer stared. "Then why do you want him!" he asked, not unreasonably. '"Because there is some evidence, against him, and I've got a warrant; besides, he may know something about it. Anyway, I want him." "'lf he"s innocent, he'll turn up of his own accord. He must know about it, for the papers are full of it. Seen 'em 1" "I don't want to see them,"' said Yates, testily. "I know all abouc it. You're sure he hasn't loft by one of the vessels that started to-day?"' "Certain."' ea-id the other detective. "'He may not have come to London at all, but have gone out at one of the small country stations." Yate* had thought o£ this, and, leaving full instructions, took the first train back, but did not stop at the llatford Junction. If he had he would have met with a baulk here, for the porter who had seen Harry ha-d gone for a holiday; had started only an hour ago; and none knew where he had gone. Of course, it would be easy to find out; but all this i would have taken time. Yates wirod an advertisement to the principal London papers. "H.W., who left Thatchmoor suddenly, is requested to communicate with W. Yates. Great anxiety."' "If Harry is innocent, this will fetch him back as fast as steam can bring him; if not, it won't do any harm, lie will see by the papers that he is wanted.' . It was a clever move, and if Harry bad seen the advertisement, or an account of the murder, he would have ! come back, but they did not get the daily newspaper on board the Sunflower. Meanwhile, the inquest was held. Mr. Sou'sby had come rushing back, and, so t> speak, represented the family—and Harry. Mr. Soulsby was a type of the oldfashioned country solicitor. He was almost as aristocratic as his clients, and ) had never before been "mixed up" with 1 a criminal case. He was much worried, and, at first, not a little flurried. "Xothing would convince mc that Harry is guilty." he said to Chantry Payne, when he posted, to the Manor and heard a full account of the murder—so far as it was known. ""Quite so. Nothing would convince any man who knew anything of Harry," assented Chantry Payne, warmly. "And ye.t the evidence -" faltered Mr. Soulsby, wiping his brow with the red siik handkerchief which he had always used—and which, strange to say, is now coming into fashion. Chantry Payne shrugged his shoulders. "Circumstantial evidence, which i.s worth —how much? And where is the motive? It will be said that he and the earl quarrelled; but Harry was not the man to strike an old man, however angry he might be. He's passionate, 1 know; but Oh, it's impossible!" The room in which the inquest was hold was ■crowded, and tho (country people were hustlod by special correspondents from London and the large towns. Lords Ferndale and Loamshire were present, and most of the country gentry —for the murdered man had been a power in the land. Almost from the first moment it was obvious that things were going against Harry. The evidence seemed nearly, if not quite, damning. He had quarrelled with his uncle; lie had been heard disputing, arguing with him; he had been seen in possession of the stick by Heme and his wife at the south lodge, by same of the servants at the Manor. Even Chantry Payne was forced to admit that he had seen him with it. He gave his evidence calmly and in a low voice, but unhesitatingly, as if, black as the case might appear against Harry, he—Ghantry Payne—was quite convinced of 'his innocence. " What was the cause of the quarrel between the deceased and Mr. Wrayforde?" asked the coroner.

Chantry Payne shrugged his shoulders. " Mr. Wrnyforde desired to take a stc of which the ea-rl disproved," he -said. '"It is not unusual for young men to run counter to the wishes of their elders." The coroner nodded. He did not want to press the question. He saw plainly that the verdict would go against Harry Wrayforde, and was content to let the whole facts come out at the trial. " Can you suggest any motive for the deed? Had anyone any motive, so far as you know, to desire the death of the earl?" asked the coroner. "' Xo, I know of no one," replied Chantry Payne, cleverly evading the first part of die question. " 1 know that the earl was displeased with my cousin, that ho threatened it 0 disinherit him; indeed, that he took steps in that direction; hut I am convinced that it was only a transient intention, that he did not intend to. carry out his threat." " Have Lord Wrayforde'3 .papers been examined?" asked the coroner. Mr. Soulsby rose. " Not yet, sir," he said. " I have only just returned from London. I will do so." " Yes, better do so at once," said the coroner. There were a great many other questions. The coroner addressed the jury, and, with marked regret and sorrow, they delivered their verdict. Chantry Payne got out of the room and stood in the open air, his face white and grave. Mr. Soulsby joined him. "This is terrible," he said, wiping his face. " Why on earth doesn't Mr. Harry come back?" Chantry Payne shook his head. "I don't know. I am quite overwhelmed by the verdict, but I can't think how anyone could believe him capable ot such a crime." " I've known him since a boy," said the old lawyer. " He isn't capable of it. And yet — well, they couldn't have brought in any other verdict. I'll go to the Manor and examine the papers. Perhaps — but it isn't likely — they may throw some light upon it, You spoke- of ihe-earl's threat-ran? "- —'■ s «" "

Chantry Payne held up his hand. "I don't want to spetxk of that," he said, with some agitation. "The earl did utter such a threat—he took steps —but I am sure he did not want to execute it He must have changed his mind. I will not speak further, because 1 am convinced he did so change his mind." Mr. Soulsby was puzzled by this reserve; but his perplexity gave way to amazement when he found the will In the safe. "Everything to Chantry Payne!" he exclaimed to himself; and, with the will in his hand, sank into a chair and stared into vacancy. Then he spiting to his feet and inquired for that fortunate gentle•znan. "Mr. Payne has gone out, sir," said the butler, speaking in the hushed tones in which all the darkened house had spoken since the fatal morning. " Tell him I should like to see him— that I am waiting to see him when he comes back," said Mr. Soulsby. " All to Chantry Payne, with the exception of twenty thousand pounds to cluiritv!" (To be continued daily.)