THE THIRD DEGREE.

Auckland Star, Volume LVI, Issue 185, 7 August 1925, Page 10

THE THIRD DEGREE.

BY R. A. J. WALLING.

Author of "The Fatal Glove," Etc. CHAPTER V. Highhouse was always silent, but in the morning of the next day its stillness had a new quality. It was a breathless hush. The green Venetians of the long window in the billiard-room were down and closed. The door was locked. As he passed the corridor on his way to the breakfast-room, Mr. Baird gave one glance along it and hurried by. Lanson had been his close friend as well as his lawyer. Mrs. Baird was seated at the table when he entered. She was pale, and she shivered when the door opened, though it was a warm summer morning. Site poured coffee and .gave it to him without speaking. "You did not sleep. I heard you moving about your room half the night," he said. "It don't do. You'll be very ill." He looked tenderly at her. TJrfe corners of her mouth drew down. A tear ran down her white cheek. She hastily brushed it away and stretched a hand to him. He took it and gently smoothed it. "That's the second night you have not slept," said he. "You'll break clown. You must forget all about—about this." "Forget!" she said in a whisper. "Forget. And that boy " "Leave it alone," said Mr. Baird in a tone which was almost command. "You •are not fit to worry about it. Do you understand? You'll have to go away — now. almost immediately." "And you?" "I will" take care of myself," he answered. He fixed his eyes upon hers. "You understand?" "I will do what you say —of course." The lamps burned under the dishes on the side table, and the food remained untouched. Mr. Baird sipped his coffee, opened the newspaper and read carefully the account it gave of the murder of Mr. Lanson and the arrest of John Belliver. His thin lips were tightly compressed and his eyes were stern. But he read through, and read again. Mr. Baird had out his closed car to drive down to the police court that morning. It was not customary with him. When he was sitting on the bench he usually walked down, for he met and overtook many acquaintances that way, and the time was usefully occupied in fulfilling the social obligation of recognising this or that person and greeting this or that other with a word. Now, however, Mr. Baird, finding his name in much prominence in the morning paper in connection with the death of Lanson, preferred not to meet any of his friends—he would have to explain the dreadful business to them. He told his man to drive direct to the private doorway in Grange Street. It was a convenient entrance to the court premises, used only by magistrates and by applicants for magisterial advice. Mr. Baird passed into the small lobby and thence into the room where applications were heard. He was greeted with grave sympathy by his colleagues who were to hear the cases, and went through the corridor to the court, where he took a seat at the table reserved for solicitors. At five minutes before eleven o'clock the doors were opened, and a flood of the morbid curious rolled in and filled every corner of the public space. Mr. Baird felt strange when he. found himself seated facing his colleagues of the bench and next to the solicitor whom Fewings had engaged to conduct the defence of Belliver. The solicitor greeted him pravely, with an expressoin of sympathy for hixd in that he was the subject of so much unenviable notoriety in the case. But there was no time for more than a conventional sentence or two before Belliver was brought up into the dock and formally charged with the murder of Mr. Lanson. Mr. Baird gave one glance at the young man as he stood there. He was pale and dishevelled, and had evidently not slept. There was the same expression of haunted terror in his eyes as there had been last night. The prosecuting solicitor was brief. He also had a word of sympathy for Mr. Baird. He spoke of the gravity of the charge, the extraordinary character of the crime, pointed out that the police had not had time to make inquiries into the surrounding circumstances, and ended by saying that he would call evidence of the arrest of the prisoner and ask for a remand. The police constable then went into the witness box and told the story of his adventure at Highouse. All the people present had read that story in the paper —it contained, nothing new except that the prisoner had not spoken a single word to anybody since he was found in the garden holding the revolver in his hand and looking through the window at the dead body of Mr. Lanson. The solicitor for the defence had two questions only to ask. First, how many chambers of the revolver had been discharged ? It was impossible to say; but it was a six-chambered revolver, and three chambers were empty. Next, the defence inquired, had the police any knowledge of the revolver and how the prisoner came by it? "No," was the answer. There had been no time to make those inquiries. The hearing occupied no more than ten minutes. John Belliver was remanded for a week and went downstairs to the cells again. The crowd of the morbid curious trooped out of the court, the magistrates left their seats, and Mr. Baird went back by the way he had come- He endured the commiseration of his brother magistrates and lingered behind them to have a word with the chief of police. While they were talking a message was brought to the chief. When he received it he turned to Mr. Baird. , "At last!" said he. "What has happened at last?" asked the magistrate. "After being silent the whole time he has been here, the young man has spoken. It is curious, Mr. Baird, that his first. words should be a request to see you." "To see mc!" Mr. Baird echoed, looking greatly surprised. "What can he want with mc?" "Yes—to see you privately." Mr. Baird hesitated. "It's very strange in view of what he has been "saying about mc. 1 don't know. Is it permissible?" "Not strictly regular, perhaps," said the chief; "but if you desire it, or have no objection to it, of course, Mr. Baird, I will raise none." The magistrate paced the little room for a few moments, knitting his brows. Then he said: "Very well; I will see him. Where?" "Oh! Perhaps the best way will be to bring him up here. An interview in the cell is not particularly pleasant or convenient. I will go and see him myself.? '•■... .-'-

The chief went out with the officer who had brought the message, and presently opened the door of Belliver's cell. The young man was seated on his narrow bed. * He looked up as the chief entered. He did not speak, but there was inquiry I in his look. I "You want to see Mr. Baird ?" said j the chief. | Belliver inclined his head. I "Come with mc, then." ! The officer who had accompanied him I stood aside, and Belliver followed the | chief. The constable closed up behind them- They walked to the little room behind the court, and the chief entered with Belliver. "I'll give you a quarter of an hour, sir," he said. "You can let mc know if that is insufficient." Mr. Baird nodded, and the chief re-! tired to his own office. He posted the j constable in the corridor and told him J to await Mr. Baird's instructions. The I constable saluted and stood at ease outside the door. The sound of voices con-1 versing quietly came from within. The | constable slowly walked up and down ! the corridor. At the other end of it he j met a colleague going off duty. i "They" sat 7 ," said he, "the Belliver I chap is in there with Mr. Baird." I "Yes," said the man on guard. "And ' talking away like smoke. First man ', he's spoken to since last night." "Daring young devil!" was the re-j joinder. "What a stroke of luck for i Bayman to catch him red-handed." ! He passed on; the guard resumed his' patrol. At the end of ten minutes he; listened at the door. The voices were j still speaking, but there was also a! sound of movement, as if the conversa- j tion was coming to an end. He took ! another turn. i At the end of a-quarter of an hour the chief came out of his office. "Any word from Mr. Baird?" he asked. "No, sir." "Ah!" The chief looked at his watch. He listened at the door, and then turned to look sharply at' the guard. "What's this?" he said. The chief turned the handle and threw the door open. He leapt forward with an exclamation and knelt on the floor. The constable stepped up behind him, and saw the chief bending over a man who lay prone on his face. The man was Mr. Baird. The chief jumped up. "Idiot!" he cried t<> the startled officer, and pointed to the outer door. "He's gone! After him!" The constable rushed out through the little lobby into Grange Street, and looked helplessly up and down. His chief went into the corridor, calling. Men came hurrying to him. "Trapped! Done!" said he. "He's bamboozled tis all. Give warning everywhere—everywhere. The railway stations, the docks—everywhere. Send out to all the men on point. One of you fetch the doctor." lie returned to the side of Mr. Baird, who lay with closed eyes, apparently unconscious. He raised his head and examined him. There was the mark of a severe blow on his forehead. The chief took the magistrate's water carafe and emptied it on to a handkerchief, which he applied to Mr. Baird's head. Before the doctor arrived he had come round.He opened his eyes and sighed. "Ah! It's you, Mr. Chief Constable," said he. "What has happened?" He looked round the room as he was assisted to his feet. "Ah! Where's Belliver"' he asked. "Belliver. I regret so say, seems to have escaped." said the chief. "When we came in you were lyong unconscious on the ground and alone in the room. Can you tell us how it occurred" Mr. Baird passed his hand over his forehead, and winced when he touched the spot where the blow bad fallen. "T seem to have had a knock.'' he said. "Yes, and the young scoundrel must have bit bard." the chief remarked. "Eh? What's that? No. I don't think | so. Let mc try to remember. We were j talking—talking—all about Miss Lan- J son. He was very anxious about Miss Lanson. And then —what then? Ah. I remember. T was standing there by the table, and I felt a little unwell—and after that I don't remember anything. 1 must have fallen." The police doctor entered the room in a hurry. Seeing Mr. Baird in conversation with the chief, he said: "Oh. so it's nothing serious. I'm glad." He shook hands with the magistrate. "Mr. Baird has just been telling mc what happened," the chief explained. "We left him with young Belliver. When i we came in the young blackguard had i got away, and Mr. Baird was lying j senseless "on the ground, with a nasty j blow on the forehead. We thought—at I least, I thought—the prisoner had struck him, but he thinks be fell. He remembers being a little faint." "All," said the doctor, "let's have a look at the blow. Was Mr. Baird lying I on his back or his face when you found him?" "On his face," said the chief. "Then he is right. He was faint, he fell forward, and struck his head against the table." "And then," mirsed the chief, "Belliver took advantage of the opportunity j to bolt. I ought to have thought of the door into Grange Street. But who could have foreseen such an accident?" "He will be caught pretty quick," the doctor comforted him. "He can't have got far. Hullo! What's this?" The doctor picked up from a chair a round jacket of blue serge. "Great Scot!" cried the chief, "Belliver's coat!" He went to the lobby and glanced round the walls. Then he touched a bell button. A young inspector came in. "Cox," said he, "did you leave your cap and coat in the usual place this morning?" I "Yes, sir." "They're not there now." The young man went to look. "No, sir," said "he. . The chief bit his lip with vexation. "Precious time lost," he said. "It's clear that the prisoner has taken them. Telephone everywhere to look out for him in those things." i .As the inspector left the room there i was a knock on the outer door. The doctor opened. "Beg pardon, sir." It was a whitecoated chauffeur who spoke, touching his hat to Mr. Baird. "I hope I did right to come back here."

"Eh? What do you mean? Where have you been? I told you to wait." "Yes, sir; but about ten minutes ago an officer came out with a message that I was to drive him to Northtown Station and wait for you there- He said it was important. He had a message from you to deliver to the 11.30 train." "Yes, yes!" cried the chief impatiently. "And when I got to Northtown Station," said the man, "there was nobody in the car!" The three men in the room looked at each other, dumbfounded. "Were you pulled up anywhere?" the chief constable asked at last. "M—yes; I remember there was a block at the tramway crossing in the Circus; but it was only a moment." "He got out there!" exclaimed the chief, rushing out to his office and giving a violent ring on the telephone. But all the telephoning, all the spying at railway stations and wharves, all the inquiries of the police, all the goin? and coming were of no avail. In the quarter of an hour following his appearance in the police court Mr. John Belliver had disappeared completely and utterly, and had not left a trace" of his going. Within an hour or two all the town knew all about it. Mr. John Belliver

had on track not only all the police force of Wesport and all the detective staff, but every inhabitant who read the account in the afternoon paper of his case in the court, of his ruse and his flight. They were all detectives, and they could all detect nothing. (To be continued daily.)