The Vital Flame.

Auckland Star, Volume 55, Issue 22, 26 January 1924, Page 25

The Vital Flame.

JyyMay Christie

CHAPTER LXXVI. Deirdre Speaks. The coroner continued:— "Graves, the butler, has given evidence that from the time of Mr. Holden's arrival, shortly after eleven, until midnight, the front door was unbolted. During that period, Graves left the hall twice. Once when he listened at Mr. Treman's door to sounds of quarrelling. And later, after eleven-thirty, when he went to the butler's pantry for ten or fifteen minutes, to get something to eat. It was perfectly possible for you to slip in during, that period, go upstairs, and then slip out again." "But I didn't," said Marcella, head held up. "The witness, Leonie Day, gives evidence to corroborate it. Shortly after quarter to twelve, she opened her bedroom door, intending to fetch the aspirin, and saw you come from the deceased's room. She had been awakened by a sound, which no doubt was the shot that killed." "I didn't. I tell you I didn't go near the house. I tell you—" Marcella put her two hands to her face, as though to blot out the ghastly insinuation. "You were in your father's bungalow, you say?" "Yes. Yes." "And then?" "Then I went out again, into the 1 little wood, and met Mr. Holden." "What time was that?" " —I don't remember. After twelve, I think." 'What did he tell you, concerning the interview?" She hesitated. So much depended on her answer, and the method of its delivery. "Did he tell you that the meeting had been fruitless, from the point of view of terminating the engagement? Did he tell, you that the deceased refused to give you up?" "No. He —didn't say much about it." The coroner raised quizzical browß. "Rather odd! What did he say?" "Nothing much," she stammered. A wave of disbelief seemed to run through the audience. They didn't want to be deprived of what they'd come to hear. "Come, come! Speak up. Did he tell you of the quarrel that occurred I" "Y-yes,"—uncertainly. "Did he tell you that he struck the deceased?" (This was a shot at random). "M'm—no—ye3—l mean, I don't remember." The coroner leant forward, and rapped the top of the desk sharply. "I demand that you remember." Marcella trembled violently. "He—he said he'd lost his temper—and —and they had had a row. I think that was all he said." The memory -of Miles' dishevelled appearance rose up before her. Would the coroner wring that out of her as well? "Mr. Holden, when found at the inn, had his things all ready packed, as though to leave either that very night, or first thing in the morning. I understand that, you, too, had packed as though in readiness for flight. Is that so?" She did not answer. "Is that so?—louder this time." "Yes." "Then you know about the murder?" The girl flung back her head. "Never! It was only when / Lady Warrington telephoned—" On, on went the terrible examination. Once or twice Marcella—growing more unnerved—contradicted herself. Once she broke down absolutely, but the relentless inquisitor did not desist. To the majority of the people in the crowded court-room, it seemed as though Marcella were the guilty party. She had stealthily followed her lover to The Larches, slipped in by the front door while Graves was in the pantry, shot Treman dead with Miles' revolver (borrowed), then flung it through the open window where it had been found, later, lying on the grass. She had made her exit by the front door, fearing tell-tale footprints in the flower beds had she departed by the window. Leonie Day's evidence was very black against her, tallying as it did with Graves' departure from the hall back into-the pantry, which was out of earshot. There were many in the court who thought that Miles was guilty, and Marcella "accessory after the fact." The flight planned for the following morning—early — seemed absolutely damning evidence. On, on went the terrible examination. The net was drawing -tighter, more unbreakable, when ' suddenly—from the back of the courtroom —came a great commotion, and a woman's voice, high and strident, demanding admittance. "I tell you I will get in! You shan't keep mc out! Stand off! Let mc past!" Everyone turned Tound, craning their necks in the direction of the disturbance. They saw a yellow-haired woman, slim, but apparently endowed with cat-like 'agftity, struggling with a large policeman who was trying to shove her back. "I will get in! Ow! Ouch! You brute!" She twisted suddenly in his grip, and—before he could prevent her— had buried her teeth in his hand so deeply that, with a smothered cry of pain, he let go his hold of her and she darted up the centre aisle until she stood by the table directly in front of the raised platform and the coroner's desk. The woman's hat had fallen off in the struggle, and her eyes burned with art unearthly light. Her cheeks were T. rilliant spots of colour in the whiteness of her face. "It's Deirdre," muttered the girl in the witness box, below, her breath. • The woman faced the coroner (who was so taken by surprise that momentarily he had lost his power of speech), and' in a ringing voice, and pointing dramaticaly at Marcella, cried :•— "They told mc, outside, what you doing to that girl! You fool!" She swung round on the crowded audience. "Fools, all of you! Look at her—is Bhe the sort to—'' "Silence, woman!" roared the coroner, i starting up. "How dare you come in here! Officer, remove her!" I The policeman with the bitten hand , came forward with reluctance. i The woman swung round on him, jeyea glittering.

-A. Stirring Serial of Primitive Passions

"Touch mc if you have the courage! I don't leave her until I've said my say. That girl there " pointing again to Marcella in the witness box—"has no | more to do with the death of the man who called himself Treman than the babe unborn. Nor—" pointing straight at Miles Holden on the front benches — "nor has he. Fools, all of you—to accuse them!" At this juncture she was seized, but fought with a strength that seemed almost superhuman. The court was in upheaval. People rose in their seats. . "Let go of mc! I have more to say! Fm not mad!" she shouted, above the tumult, struggling desperately. "I've got to save her! I will save her! You shan't stop mc!" The coToner motioned to the men to let her be, for a moment. "Speak, then, woman. Quickly." Deirdre drew her breath, and then, pointing again at Marcella, cried out in a ringing voice:— "That's the only woman in the world ever did mc a kind action —you shan't make her suffer instead of mc! It wasn't she who did the murder —it was I—myself—because I hated him— because scum like Treman shouldn't be allowed to live!" CHAPTER LXXVIL Treman's Wife. The effect of the woman's communication on the court was electric. Cries, smothered exclamations, people standing on the benches to get a clearer view of her The coroner roared for silence. What happened afterwards remained in Marcella's memory as a confused dream. She was told to leave the witness box, and her place was taken by the intruder who—in an excited though perfectly coherent manner —told her story. "Look at her eyes! The creature drugs!" Marcella heard someone whisper. Those oddly brilliant eyes were fixed upon Marcella, who was sitting in the front bench now, not far from Miles.--"l'm not making this up, to save her — honest to God, I'm not" said the woman called Deirdre. "I met her on boardship, and she was kind to mc. I saw his photograph on her dressing table —" "Whose photograph?" interrupted the coroner. "The man who called himself Warwick Treman. I wasn't sure at the time—but later on I knew it was the same. His name wasn't Treman when I knew him up in Winnipeg—oh no! —it was plain William Hickson. Twelve years since I'd seen him, but when I saw him again I recognised him, just the same. He saw mc too, and ran away." She pave a contemptuous laugh. "A bully and a coward, that's him. He hadn't changed." "Keep to the point," said the coroner, brusquely. "What were you doing in this neighbourhood?" "I got a job doing cabaret work in a road-house. I came out to New York to join Jose —my —my friend — but he was caught smuggling dope and put away. And then I met her—" — she pointed at Leonie Day —"and she told mc that Miss Field was going to marry this Treman fellow, and if I'd thought she cared for him, honeßt to God, I'd never have pumped lead into Ilia body. I'd have lain low and wished her luck, though knowing the beast he is, I'd have been afraid of her." "Go on," said the coroner, leaning forward. "After Jose was taken—he escaped and they got him again, yow know—l got a job in this neighbourhood, singing in a cabaret. I wanted to see Miss Marcella, and find out if she was still sweet on the young chap there—"—she nodded towards Miles Holden—"but I hadn't the pluck, after what Jose did. I'd tell that later —how he mistook her for the other girl—"—she pointed towards Leonie Day, with a contemptuous look—"she practically gave him away about the dope—" "Get on with the story," interrupted the coroner, his eyes, through their glasses, fixed on the queer creature in the box. "The other night," continued Deirdre, 'T gathered up my courage and went to see her. Passing through a wood near where she lives, I heard voices. I recognised hers, and stopped to listen. I was quite close to them —him—"—she nodded towaTds Miles Holden. "He was telling her how much he loved her, and she told him the same. Like love birds, the two were, but worried to death about Treman, and his not wantto give her up." "Then young Holden decides to go up to the big house, and see if he'll see reason. The wedding day was fixed, and all. When he went away, I crept after him, wanting to see the matter out. I had my own particular interest in it. Oh, I'm coming to that, don't hurry mc." "There was a light in one of the windows, and I guessed that would be Treman's room. Then I heard voices, raised, and quarrelling. I crept nearer, keeping always on the grass. Then, after a time, young Holden jumps out of the window, and goes off excited. And' I went around to the front-door, determined to go in and see Treman for myself, and I found the door unlocked, and up I went." The court was tense with excitement, and one could have heard a pin drop in the silence. Then the woman went on: 'Treman recognised mc, all right, but he tried to bluff mc. 'You—you creature—' he said, contemptuoustlike, •How could you do mc an ounce of harm?' 'I could stop your marriage with a girl that hates you and that you're blackmailing into marrying you when she's head-over-ears in love with another man,' I cried. 'Try and see ' he said; and then: 'You have no proof!' 'You shan't ruin her life as you ruined mine,' I flung back at him. And he laughed at mc, right in my face. That maddened mc. I had a gun with me— I always carry it at night in the country, for I'm nervous—and I —l turned it on him—" "Is this the weapon?" interrupted the coroner, lifting Miles' revolver from his desk. A policeman took it over to the witness box. "Yes." "How did you come by it ?" The woman called Deirdre did not hesitate. "Jose took it from hia cabin—"—she nodded in the direction of Miles Holden —"on boardship. I meant to give it

back to him, but I didn't want Jose to ; get into any more trouble. He's in ' good now, Jose is. I came out by the front door, and in the garden I flung the • gun —Mr. Holden's gun —jnto the ; long grass —I didn't mean to get him i into any trouble —" The coroner rapped on his desk. 'You spoke of being able to stop the deceased's marriage with Miss Field. What did you mean by that?" The woman flung back her head and i gave a shrill laugh. "I meant I'd give the game away!" j she cried.. "The man who called him- ' Belf .Treman wasn't able to marry without committing—whadda you call it?— bigamy! Because he married mc twelve years ago in Winnipeg—because in the eyes of the law I'm still his wife!" CHAPTEPv LXXVIII. Deirdre Imprisoned. On the front porch of the little bungalow, among the cedars and the larches, sat Marcella Field, and at her side, ou a sort of swinging couch or settee made of striped canvas, was Miles Holden, an old and much-loved pipe between his lips. - "Peaceful countryside, isn't it?" he remarked, puffing away, and placing a hand upon Marcella's. "How would you like to stay here always?" She turned to smile at him. "Home" is where the heart is, and if Miles wanted her to stay out here —with him—there could be no possible question of a refusal, especially since her father's health was so much better. And everyone had been so kind—so very kind and sympathetic. "You know it rests with you," she very softly said. Down at the bottom of the garden sang the crickets lustily. Bees hummed among the roses and sweet-scented stocks. The air was full of fragrance of green, growing things, and life —young life. Young life and progress seemed the keynote of this tremendous country. "A great country to grow up with," murmured her companion, drawing at his pipe. Marcella felt peace stealing over her. This hour of quiet—this haven —seemed so wonderful after the stormy passage she had just come through. The ghastly ordeal of the inquest! Miles in the witness box, the web of evidence against him growing stronger, more convincing! Then Leonie Day's accusing eyes! A vision of herself, facing the coroner and the crowded Court! She shivered at the recollection. Then the woman called Deirdre —her confession—and the thrill it caused! "Poor thing!" said Marcella, turning towards the man she loved. He smiled in faint surprise. "Meaning—me? Darling. I could never be poor, when I have you!" She gave him back his smile. Then her face sobered. "I was thinking of Deirdre. What will happen to her? Oh, I'm so afraid " "You needn't be. American juries are tremendously sympathetic and hiassed, where women are concerned. The unwritten law, you know. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if she got off, Bcot-free. and everyone sending her bouquets, and making- her a Bort of heroine." "She is a heroine," said Marcella hoftly, tears in her eyes. "She—did it for my sake. She knew how unhappy you and I were. She wanted to show her gratitude because I was sorry for her, and once kind to her——" Miles interrupted, wisely:— "But she had her personal motive, too, Marcella. Treman had been a brute to her. He had married her and caßt bar off. P.evengc must have been simmering in her heart for a long time." "Perhaps. But if he hadn't planned to marry mc " "The game thing would have happened, if this woman nnd he had met. He could not have bought her off. She's not that sort. She has very strong affections and emotions. Remember, I was allowed to talk with her in the cells, after the inquest was over." "Was—was she terribly upset. They wouldn't let mc see her," faltered Marcella. (Poor Deirdre! What a contrast; that life was to her own! Deirdre had lost her husband, then her lover—and her health. She was now branded as a murderess.) Miles hesitated, then he said: — "She wasn't unhappy —or in the least repentant—if that's what you mean. You know, don't you, what's the matter with her?" Marcella's gaze widened. "You mean, Bhe's ill." "Well, yes. Not in the ordinary Bense." "I don't understand." He moved uneasily. "She's not in a normal condition. When you first met her, several months ago, didn't you notice that? Excitable, and queer." "Are you implying that she's -wrong in -the head ? Will they put her in an asylumT Oh, poor Deirdre!" He hesitated, then he said:— "She drugs, Marcella. She's what they call out here a 'dope victim!' And the habit has got such a hold on her that 1 don't Buppose she could ever give it up." The girl beside him shivered. "Drugs? How terrible 1" Her thought winged to her first meet, ing with this woman, in her cabin of the ship. Deirdre had been sad and dull until she'd lit a cigarette. Marcella had wanted one of those cigarettes, but the woman bad at once withdrawn her case, refusing to let the girl have one. That had seemed queer at the time, though she had since forgotten it. And Deirdre, puffing at her own cigarette, had suddenly grown livelier, and those "strange eyes of hers had glittered, and her odd, shrill laugh had rung out queerly. Drugs! "She wasn't the sort of woman Treman could have bribed. She was a child of nature, ruled by her emotions. She either loved—or hated—desperately. She had a strong feeling about you, Marcella. She wished you well. The love of her life, after her long-ago passion for Treman had turned to hatred and revenge, was the Jose de Costa, who, in his own way, proved as great a rotter, or even greater. But rather than have him murder you, she telephoned the " Marcella shivered. "That awful night!" "He mistook you for Leonie Day. He's a. drug-fiend, and when he does get out of prison, I pity his—his wife—the w o man you call Deirdre, I mean to say. He held Leonie Day responsible for his arrest, and the Deirdre woman for his recapture. I hope they'v both far from his range when he gets out of prison, for their own sakes." "I believe he got a long term," said Marcella, with troubled eyes. Then: "Miles, we must do something for Deirdre. It's too awful about her, and her future. I'm going to see her in the cells. They'll e;ive mc permission. Not even you shall stop mc. It's my—my duty—to go." (To be continued Saturday next.)