THE FATAL GLOVE.

Auckland Star, Volume LV, Issue 116, 17 May 1924, Page 26

THE FATAL GLOVE.

By R. A. J. WALLING. |j Author of "A Silver l Dagger," "A Eea \ Por vf Devon," eto. I« _ i CHAPTER XVin.—Continued. , Then Lvsons in the dock raised his I ( head and looked around h.'m. The eyes ] of the crowd wavered between him and i the girl in the witness-box. "TeU mo now, Miss Playfair," said f Plnsnn, "why you did not communicate 1 these facts to mo at that time." | "I propoecd to go to Buchfast the next [ J dp.y and see you. That night, shortly after 1 had gone to my room, I heard a I' noise of aomeWiing falling againbt my ' . window. I looked out, aud caw a man j '■ on the lawn. It was bo dark that I ; could distinguish no features, not even i c form clearly. I rushed to a con- < elusion " ; "What did you think? TeU us what your conclusion was." "Well, I thought it possible that Mr. ( r* Lysons might have sought either by ;' himself or through some third person ( k ,< to communicate with mc." 1 "But the prisoner had then been ■} arrested and was locked up in the cells." 11 "1 did not know that for certain. At i i any rate, I could not think oi anything \ ■ : else. I went down and opened the .; drawirg-room window. The man who ' ; wa c standing outsMe on the lawn tipI toed in. Then he put hie arms around mc, and I felt a sharp pricking sense- . tira at the back of my head. I just ; remember being picked up and carried, '■ and that is all." "You mean that for some reason or ' other you became unconscious?" aeked i Pinson. |' i "Yea. I do not remember anything ' else till the morning." "And then where were you?" "I was locked up in a sort of pantry : i or ecullery—a place I had never seen * before.' "How long were you there T" "I cannot remember how the days ■ went; it was so horrible. Some days a t woman came and gave mc food. . I ' | attempted to get out, but she forced mc back. I appealed to her; I think she , believed mc mad. I could not make any . impression on her. And I got spiritless ' and weak." "Well," said Pinson, "you were there some days. How did you get out?" "It was Mr. Grainger who released , i mc." i- "Who is Mr. Grainger?" said his lord- . : ship. ; "Mr. Grainger, my lord, is a witness (i I shall call presently," eaid Pinson. "And ': then, Miss Playfair?" "Mr. Grainger and you took mc in a , taxi-cab to London." '. "Did you gather from the journey , I that the place where you had been im- ' ' prisoned was in South London?" ■: "Yes." ?._: "And since that time you have been in ' the care of friends, I believe. Now, Mies • Playfair,, have you told the court every- J^ -'thing you know that is material to this ' case?" "I think eo.'Vttid tyarjerte.;, . "You realise that but for your evidence about the gloves, what you have, said as to his presence in Banging Wood that night would be fatal to the prisoner ?" "Yes, I ccc that" "Do you think the prisoner eetnmittod this murder?" "I am certain that he did not Hβ ts \ quite incapable of a crime I" And aa ■he spoke Marjories brave eyes sought those of Lysona, who earnestly returned her look. "One more question only, Mlia Playful-," said Pinson. "Bo you know who committed this murder?" * "No, 1 do not know," she replied. Then Pbuon sat down. Sir William Apps rose with a very grave face. "If I ask you questions which may seem to you rough, Mies Playfair, you will understand, will you not, that we are here with a solemn duty to perform, and that my questions are directed only to one object, and that ia to get out the truth?" "I will anrwer any questions you ask," eaid she. ?Tbey will be few. Ton were in love with the prisoner?" «I was fond of him. I eared for him," she said. Then, raising her head, and looking the counsel deep in the eyes, she said, "Yesj I loved him!" "And you lore him still?" Sir William asked. "Yes. I love him still," eaid Marjorie. -' *5 respect you for the candour you dijplay. Miss Playfair," said Sir William, with a grave bow. "But now I have to put to you this: that a woman who loves a nan will not stick at much to save his life." Marjories colour heightened, but she did not answer. . "I will put it more directly. You are very anxious to secure .the acquittal of the prisoner ?" "Very anxious indeed." "You admit that he was in this wood on the night when Sir Richard Fallofleld died? And that he left you before one in the morning? And that Sir' Richard Fallofield's body, from which the life had departed between midnight and two a.m., was found close to the spot where the prisoner left you? And you have heard that at two o'clock- the prisoner was in the corridor of the inn where the skylight hod been broken, with a wound in his leg?" To all these questions Marjorie gave assent. "You realise that the whole value of your evidence to the prisoner rests on the single point about the gloves?" "Yes." "And you said nothing to anybody •bout the gloves until yon told my learned friend, sime weeks after?" "No. How could I?" "Well, you did not. And yon ask the jury to believe that an,unknown man, whom you had never, seen before, came into the room that morning and stole those gloves. You do not produce them. Nobody saw the man but you?" "That is so," said Marjorie. "If your evidence is true. Miss Playfair, it goee to prove that the prisoner was not the man who dropped the glove on tho spot where the murder was done. And you were deeply- in ! love with him, and are in love with Aim still?" "Yes," said Marjorie, "I will not trouble you with any more questions, Miss Playfair," said ' Sir William Apps, with a shrug of the shoulders, as he eat down and folded his anna. . I Marjorie left the box, and walked to ' !tw at V***** out t0 her by a constable. She gave Lysons a little smile as she passed. ) . 80 ! 1 eeemed to be the only person

■way in whibh the defence waa being conducted. The public were full of new and conflicting ideas introduced into their minds by the sudden reap pearance of Miss Playfair on the scene and the startling evidence she had given. Ii was true, then, that Lysons waß out of the inn that night, that he waa in Hanging Wood about the time of the crime. Everything turned upon the story of the gloves. Was that true? Or was the suggestion of tbe prosecution right that the girl had invented this tale to save her lover? "Annie Irene James," said Pinson, standing agaiu, with his brief in his hand. Tli is was a new name. Nobody had heard befjr. of Annie Irene James. The witness was called. A slight girl , entered the box. I ''Miss Annie Trene James," said Pinson, "you aro uineteen years of age*. | you live at 24, Albert Road. Ealing, and you are employed at stenographer and typist at tbe Grandison Club. Do you know tho prisoner!" "No, sir." "Have you ever seeu him before?" "No, sir; I do not remember to have seen him before." "I wish, my lord," said Pinson. addressing the judge, "to put to this ' witness the letter, or portion of a letter, that has been handed in as : evidence." j j Sir William Apps passed the sheet to ; Pinson, who handed it on to the girl. , "Now. Waa James, did you type that I letter ?" J "No, air." I I "I believe the typewriter—l mean 1 the typewritingmmachinal the club ,is open to the use of members when . j you are not in attendance ?" j "Yes, sir; that is so, but it is not much used." ! j "Now, look at tho letter. Do you , think that was writtrn on the machine j at the Grandison Club?" I "It. was written on a similar I machine." I "Was it written on the club I machine?" "No; it could not have been." "Will you be kind enough to explain to the jury why it could not have been ?" i "Yes. The capital letter Tin this sheet is imperfect. The foot of the ' letter is broken off on the right-hand j side. The letter T occurs several times, and in every case it is the same, j This sheet was written on, a machine with a damaged 'I.'" "It is written on club paper?" i "Yea j there is the club address on I lit." I '[Have you brought a sheet of type- | writing done on the club machine?" "Yes. Here it is." ! "Are the 'TV perfect in this sheet?" "Yes; quite perfect." "Has the machine been repaired or altered in any way since this letter | wat written—l mean since the date I •given at the top?" "No, sir, not at all." i "Will you hand the two sheets in ' I together so that the jury can comparo them? Thank That is aIL" Sir William Apps intimated that he 'did not wish to cross-examine this witness and while the jury were peering at the two sheets of typewriting, Mr. I Pinson went on to call another name. Again it was a new name, and ths | spectators looked eagerly at tbe door i jto see who ''George William Manninor" i might be. " George William Manning waa thirtyeight, he told Mr. Pinson. He might ' have been anything between thirty and fifty. Be had a sallow complexion and a crooked nose, and he waa lift-man at Maidstone Mansions, W. "Lift-attend-ant" he called himself. "Do yon know the prisoner?" Mr. Pinson asked him. "Yum; I knows "im quite walL It •ad a flat "B used to go op aa' data every dye." "How long have you been at Maidstone Mansion*?" "Five years." ' "Did the prisoner reside there prior to two yeara ago, when he went abroad?" "Yusa." "So that yon were an old acquaintance of his. Did you know his habits?" "Some oi 'em," said Mr. Manning with an elaborate wink, which brought across the faces of counsel and tha jury the first smile during the trial. "What did you think of them r Pinson continued. "Oh, 1 fought they was wot you might call dashin'—thet is to say, careless." "Give mc an example of this dashing carelessness, will your* said Pinson. "Fr'instance, Mr. Lyeona waa a gent as would go aht an* leave la key in the door very offing," said Mr. Manning. . "Do you remember any particular occasion recently when he did this?" "Yusa. I do." "Why do you particularly remember that occasion?" "Cos I 'ad my attention drorn to it by a gent." • 'What-gentleman was that? Did you know him?" "I seen' im twice. You can't mistyke 'im. There 'c is—that gent sitting dahn at the end of your seat," and Mr. Manning pointed to wihere Mr. Brewster lay back listening with closed eyes to ths evidence., "Yes, it was that gentleman. Did you know his name?" asked Pinson. "No," said Mr. Manning. '•-_! came two or free days after Mr. Loysins settled in, and asked for 'im. I sent 'im along to Number Sixty-free on the fiff floor. An' presently 'c came back an' said as Mr. Loysins was not at 'ome, but 'ad leff* 'is' key in the door. An* the gent brort the key along an' 'anded it to mc. I gave it to Mr. Loysins when 'c returned." "Well, Mr. Manning," eaid Pinson, "have you seen the same gentleman at Maidstone Mansions since?" "Yuss, 'c 'as. 'E oame■• the same dye Mr. Loysins goes awye to the country." ."When was that?" "Oh, that was at the lommenoemink of October." "How do you know that it was the same day Mr. Lysons went away into the country?" "*Ow? W*y, this gent 'c comes after Mr. Loysins is gone—to the Benk, I fink 'c *aid > waa going—an' Jus' as I'm loadin* Mr. Lojein's kit-beg onter a teirikeb. ' 'Oh,' says *c, when 'c seen the libil lon the kit-beg, 'so Mr. Liysins is going to Devingsher? Is 'c in?' 'No,' says I, 1 'c is goin' to meet 'is beggidge at Paddington.' 'Oh,' says 'c, then it ain't no, usff for mc to go up.' Thet's what the gent says." When did the prisoner come back, Mr. Manning. I "'E came hack most unexpected the 1 very nex 1 day. I remawka it to 'im, an' 'c says 'c's chynged 'is mind. That* all." | "Thank you, Mr./ Manning; that will do." The lift-attendant left the box. St William did not desire to cross-examine him. t The judge bent forward to Pinson. j I * . (To be continued daily.)

The lift-attendant left the box. St William did not desire to cross-examine him. The judge bent forward to Pinson. j . $ (To ba continued daily.)