A Crisis on a Liner. By G. MANAVILLE FENN, Author of " A Crimson Crimo," etc. (All Rights Reserved.)

Evening Post, Volume LXXV, Issue 45, 22 February 1908, Page 10

A Crisis on a Liner. By G. MANAVILLE FENN, Author of " A Crimson Crimo," etc. (All Rights Reserved.)

,-^Anything for mo? 11 > • - was,^towing late, and the porter >tKsie so-called Night-Hawk Club started Biji*-into wakefuln^ lotrid.^ scared conI«sidly at'"£he speaker; '^ |~~ Vf said anything for me?" was the Bu^ry, repeated atigrily. ~'*jkeg pardon, sir ; yes, Arid a setter was taken .from >iho rack and hpnded to tho addressee^ who scowled a^ho snatched ' it, twneci away, and Ri^ng a few steps .across the hall, uti t^jid a low '"Hah!"'" as ho recognjsod iriio.. handwriting. ' , Causing "oeneatlw a' lojnp, he hastily £or 3 open the envelope and. hesitated for tft-few Moments, before unfolding tho en«osure with trembling when fcfe^Uttered an ejaculation of "triumph as hjs 'caught sight of a drequa for a heavy ,rT.hen, glancing at tho written nste within,, he grasped three worda only — "the last time" — before quickly twisting note and cheque back into tho <Sjtfelope, placing theni in his^ breast pocket, and re-buttoning his coat. with. jiUlbw chucklo of satisfaction. t.'/Last time, eh?" ho muttered. ."Always is." -He crossed the hall and entered the afobty coiice-room, where a sleepy waiter started up. ' ♦ -'AVhat, are you all asleep? Here, ?fs3, and B^^qu^ckly..''^- ,± -rThe startiedfwaiter hufgied ofig and mttmnb a&ifvai laugheo.' ffi. tly t&hiinBplf, and.\begajCto hum -on, Mr l irom tfco" last new comic opera. , ', -f 'fcNo, not the last v tune^ i dear ,boy," ficTsaid quietly, with 'a little laugh. •^y6V have the wrong ma,n to d,eal with. — !j|hs'' he added, turning sharply, ,for the waiter had, come behmd v ;him,, silent-Vr-wd'3?>s.'l»Uai«fe'-4u^f,kr.aj.vbe^iing -£h"e 'sparkling draught./ "Oh yes, thanks." , , ' . „ drained it,' Set it ddwn upon the table, .and jauntily out into the street, nodded 1 - to the driver of the first cab that he met, and as ho threw himself back fn the seat he picked up th"c brokeri melody that he. had begun humming, and lay back .with half closed eyes, till' the cab was checked at the,^ entrance -to "one of the .Wast Central ,Jnns and th© Judas was Jbnrown open. ''•Drivo in, sir?"' *Nb ;. that will do." member of the club sprung out, (passed under the grim-loojping archway, crossed a dimly lit" square, without meeting a soul, and then stopped short beneath a lamp which hadjy illumipated a doorway whose sides j displayed a couple of columns of names of the occupants. . A / sudden, thought had occurred 'to iiun which made him begin to breathe hsfrd as he tore the letter • from his breast; and his hands trembled again as- he glanced sharply round, to find that ha ivyas' quite alone and' quite, in ailence save for. the distant rumble of a vehicle passing the entrance of the lan.. _• Ti N*bt selling me, is he?" muttered the infcM^Sff-h.e' opened the envelope and snatched ont its contents ; and ' his fing'efs^remDTecT' > more"''than eVer as he separated the long partly printed, partly Written- slip with its stamped end, from tfoe notepaper. And just then the naked flames of the lamp, the door Began ,td*turn jftom -dirigyayeHpw to a mckljvbloiß as-ifrit; wefe goingr -ont,', •' "W3»t *h©V|iPJbe|an,lvan^>^^ if* $tarHea "by the "adjuration "the' lamp flashed' yp/Taggi^so; that[ he. could see plainly the figuresV^OG." , 7 '; ■. "Suspicious f OOL" "mattered" the man, 3s he hastily replaced 1 the cheque* and note in the envelope, thrust it into his breast, nervously buttoned his coat again &id gave, Sl'jshatJljJhlp to the outside of gocketj^^H^* daren't/'he muttered triumphantly^ rs£ys.got. him iast ;- and he knows it too." ~~ 'HcTturned to enter the dim doorway, and took a couple of steps towards the -flflj@b&*Q£*iii)4ifc, stoaa. saiis,» «nd,-gas.4ajap high up showing him doorways x to right and left ; and as ha laid his 3iands,erUio6n"jihei iron, balustrade and praise's "one foof-*to "planfc *it upon the '^first step, it seemed as if a sudden chill ►had been comnrnnicated to his heart £from the icy iron, for he winced, back, and hurried through the onZvSS the..i"avejiii*Qt, to-, look KBharply t#£ right '^td .^teft jy and".;.then' '^breathigg < %J?^ he^nat^ecjjioff^his -hat\ "and letwthe 'will night air * play" wuxmgE' ,2the thin hairs of his partially bald Jtead. , "What the devil's the 'matter .with 'me?" he muttered. "Was it thatS. and ? Hallo! Puss! Going put?"- he said, \half ladghingljU *bbt' the.lmiijtb 1 sounded as he stooped to* pat the great -black cat which had followed him out *of the doorway amj^now r.u^Qd itself, "against his leg. "^chah!, he muttered. «/'l' want tone. Net niyseji. X'l'. h,ave fa bit of advice.", 11 .; And pulling himself Tup with a jerk, his footsteps went 'pat, -pat,' on th© entry as he walked i straight ;tp7 tfad fjont of the stairs, and- 'thoughtfully, followed by cat, which seated itself in the first 'doorway and sat ,wa|ching the nervous imp as he tried i >to walk firmly, but 1 .with-, ueJnbling' kfcees, and stopped I short ldi'*tb;e;^rst fending, where he be4o fumble for his ' handkerchief, Vand made a pretence of wiping his. *. "Bile," he muttered — "liver, I must ;fae more careful, "r , /,' Thrusfttng back -his handkerchief, he ? turned to ascend ''the second flight of •\ stairs, when the lamp above, which lit Vitwo doorways tot right and left of ;^ the, ..first ffoor,- played the same prank >«as the flame sinking and '^'changing 'frQin~*a "dull yellow into blue ,'i"and affecting the iban so that he began -to breathe hard again for a few mm"Jutes, during which he half turned to * descend. £ "Whati.. tho devil— " he muttered. J^'Bah ! Get 'to bed;" and tearing open j'his coat once more, he thrust his fingers 'into his vest pocket and snatched out a Ijatchkey. Now Kbrrying up the next flight of steps, t with his footsteps ;?i}choing strangely' from -the walls, he -'•reached the landing, passed the daik 'doorway to his left and crossed to the "' ono to the right, and as the gas flame ..began to descend again, 'he leaned forward, key in hand, and was in tho act ( of thrusting it into the lock when it appeared as if the jet quite expired, and he missed the keyhole consequent upon the darkness which suddenly seemed to" Blot out everything, making him start so violently that the little steel key escaped from his fingers and fell jingling ujton the stone floor. . ;A* faint • cry escaped his lips as hs made a movement to stoop and pick up the fallen key, and then dropped face downward with a groan following upon one dull heavy sickening crash which had come out of the darkness ; and then there was nothing but a sharp rustling sound as in tho deep shadow of the doorway rf quick busy movement was going on, and the naked gas jet burned of a more deep blue, till, after a rjnick rusUjng of a paper, light began to illum|ne ,fche landing, not given by the gas but from some crumpled up paper ignited from the liissing and fluttering jet, which now, gave Jorjth. a peculiar whistling wajl.. ""*

Darkness again, the smell of burning paper, a few sparks playing about in tmuer; then a fragment that was only half burned was snatched from the door, and held to the gas jet, with tho result that shadowy fingers and a dimly seen face were illumined for a few seconds, before the silence wad broken v by another deep groan, Then for a few moments there was a. hurried movement on the landing,' a sound of something heavy being draggecj over the stono flags, and then being allowed to fall with a dull sound upon tho floor. Thon 'thud, thud, thud,' three heavy blows. Silence, and as the gas jet began to rise slowly with -a feeble v.'ail and turn from pallid blue into sickly yellow, a dark and muffled figure -slowly nnd steadily descended the stairs, thrusting something into its breast, passed calmly out beneath the dismal lamp at tlie entrance, crossed the square, showed up plainly for a moment by the/porter's lodge, and turned away to the right, to pause for moment or two in the doorway to strike a match. Then a cigar was lit, and as the. dark^ actor in tho scene_ walked quict^jMhyay, a hansom was hailed, and the net was at an end. Something horrible but welcomo to the evening papers. The contents bills made tha mo6t of it ; the streets rang with it — The Mysterious Murder in the Silent Inn. Where were tho police? was this to "be the last addition to tho long roll of undiscovered crimes? Was there to. no end, to these tragedies hi whjst:. e«ien "a gentleman returning from feis clvi*, at',hight,"who; J as the 'incpiest"showed'''and witnesses proved, had been driven to the entrance of tho Inn, was struck, 'down at the door of his silent chambers,, in the full glow of his health and strength, by some deadly enemy?"" This" was not Venice, with braves ,1 u^ing' tho street corners, stilet-to-armed, ' realty 'to "perpetrate- 'some private' 'vengeance. Tor ltr was an eheihy that had done this thing. Was no life to be feafe, when such a crime could be committed in the very centre of busy London? Where were the police? Private vengeance? Yes. The charred fragments, of paper, scattered about the landing, were eloquent testimony to tho accuracy of that idea. But who was the deadly-" enemy 'of the quiet occupant of tho 'lonely chambers in the Inn? ' '"' fie had ,ieen -struck down, from behind, 'the T'dbptbr.- said, evid'eritfy/by some blunt . instrument, most probably by what is .known, as a life' preserver ; the blow had evidently 'stunned 'the victim, and the "post inortem'V evidence was in favour of the body having been afterwards turned over, and three more fearful blows given' upon the* temples. The papers said that careful research had proved' that this was a, gentleman who led a quiet unoffending life, and that it was supposed that he had at ono time been connected with the law; but in spite of careful investigation on tho part 'of the detectives, his life had been so blameless that it could not be connected with anything thai could have given rise to' the catastrophe. ' But some people knew more than the polico, and these people were of a kind who would be classified as shady. The deceased, Mr. Edward Brydges, who was evidently no,t ashamed of his name, for it was painted in black letters on' each side of the doorstep at ifo. 01 in the Inn, and also repeated upon the door of his chambers, was looked upon by the- authorities of the * place, as an excellent tenant, and was' 'k)iowu. to live' comfortably and well. B"u| he' might/hive had a ;largo holding' in ' Consols, or some other gilt-edged security, for aught anybody in an ordinary , way knew. It- "was sufficient for the world that he had an income and that he paid his way. One, perhaps two, of his'.intimatos could have told tales about something that would have been classed as blackmail ; but it was not their business, and , it was a subject which, < for rerisonß of their own, they did not caro to treat. So "after a foW weeks the excitement began to die out, literally fading in the bla? e ajjd, novelty of tho next tV catise celebre." The police made no discovery, and quiet, ultrasensitive Jqhn' Mildred, a,; man of wealth, ''who hastf been led to 'do" something in his early hot-blooded youth of which he was heartily ashamed, and which had been curse of his otherwise , harmless life, stayed on in London, weighted, . crushed i)}^ .remorse. Finalljy however, ;he went^-sft^/'lo try and^fprget, after • waiting for U-hat he feliTto.ije inevit-able-—the arrSst for that 'which he hsfd dond when driven to madness by theblackmailing scoundrel who had ruined .'hi6"life.J\vjth the threat to publish tho old story of shame if his price were not paid. '* It had condemned . him -to a life of celibacy, to the senso of feeling that sooner or later the world must know ; and ,now, to ..destroy ono haunting demon he had created another, and in his despair he had made up his mind to go anywhere so long as it was away from England, away from where he was known, until the fatal time came. But still in the streets he found that no one looked si, him more than at any other passor-by. The people of the shipping office welcomed him politely, and in due time the guard at Euston found him a corner seat in the Liverpool express, whilo on the huge liner' the purser, taking him, from his ways, to be an invalid, healthseeking in tho pure air of the Veldt, was particulaily attentive, and arranged at one? that he should have a seat at a table in a quiet corner. So far no on© knew, and in tho calm and repose of a pleasant passago something like peace came - Over his troubled spirit, and with it a certain feeling that it would be better for him that the discovery should not be mado until he was at his journey's end. There were many pleasant people on board the Cape-bound vessel, and more and more the feeling of repose lulled the haunting horror of his life. It was many years since he had mingled ranch with society, and those he had known were always men — club intimates, or people pursuing the same studies in which he had tried to forget the past; iitid it Was something strange to him to be thero on board that vessel thrown amongst ladies, whose company he avoided as much as possible ; but before many days had passed he encountered Winifred Rayne. In his efforts to dull his feelings, to crush out thought and force 'himself to wait for his punishment, it .seemed to. have happened to him that, closing one mental door, he had unwittingly opened arfother. That door had been so rigidly sealed jip that for long ' past all impressions connected therewith, were dead, frozen, non-existent. But now day after day he waß finding more and more- that love had only been latent, and w"as being awakened in all its strength, now when it was an impossibility for such as he, whilo to the great increasing of his mental agony, he realised Iho fact that there was a growing current of sympathy between them, and for somo reason or another, Fate was teaching him that, whatever might bo in store, he was not to avoid his fellow-passen-ger. One' evening as he passed the music ,ropm iW.inifred Rayne .was seated at tho

piano singing, and accompanying herself with tho sympathetic hands which lightly touched the keys and sustained the voice which hushed th© many listeners to' appreciative silence. John Mildred stopped Khort as if entranced ; a strange feeling of emotion swelled within his breast., and he felt as if ho could havo sobbad aloud And ho stood with brimming eyes, trembling and agitated, feeling at last in agony as the final notes died away, moving him to a strong desire to forget all there, and to hurry across to beg her tn sing again. But he could not stir, until as ho stood thero supporting himself by tho back of one of tho settees, he started violently, for some one spoke, and the sweet singer was looking into his eyes, while a murmur of applause had accompanied her as she left the piano and crossed the wide cabin. [ Just then two of the gentlemen came up, and one of them spoke. What ha said was all a dull sound to John Mildred ; all i he knew was that ha was speaking words endorsed by his companion, and whatever they were they had awakened a strange feeling of rage, of almost hatred, against this man who had dared to speak to her. Then she replied with a quiet smile, and Mildred sighed with relief as tho two bowed and passed on. Then their eyes met again. ( "I could not do that," she said. "It was an effort to sing, but people begged so hard." ''And you .have refused' to sing again?" he said earnestly. "No, mo," she replied, Bmiling, ''but I should have declined. I wish to be quiot. It was to play a few waltzes that they might dance." "And you did not care to do that?" said Mildred, eagorly. "No, certainly not," "Why?" . „ She made a gesture, and looked down sorrowfully, and he observed for the first time that sh6 was'in mourning. Ife looked at her enquiringly, and earnestly. ' ■ "My mother died," she said — "a year ago." "Ah !" ,ho (.aid earnestly; and he raised his hand slightly as if nerved to take hers,- but it fell back io his side. "I am going 1 ont to join my brother at the Cape." The room was nearly empty now, for, attracted by the delicious calm of the warm night, most of the passengers had strayed on deck to watch the spangled heavens, whose myriad stars were reflected in the heaving waters beneath fchoir feetj and hardly 'knowing what ho did, he drew a-'chajr towards ncr, into wljich she 'sank; at onca^ahd leaning towards him she "said half tremulously, "And you, too-7-you are in mourning.'" "I?" ho said, starting. "I thought — I hardly know what I was going to say. Forgive mo if I have made a mistake and hurt your feelings." "Oh, it is nothing," ho said. "I am afraid I have blundered. lam very sorry" ; and tho tears were in her eyes as she held, ont her hand. The inovenient sent a spasm of excitement through him. What might have been, thrilled him to the core. Starting , forward, in another moment ho would have clasped that hand in his and raised it passionately to his lips; but uttering" a faint gasp" he shrank back, and shivered 1 as he snook his head and drew away. "No, no. Impossible!" ho cried, hoarsely. "I cannot — I dare not." He covered his eyes ' for a moment , with one hand and soemed to wrench himself from his seat as he rose to his feet and hurriedly walked on deck, unconscious of the fact that his companion was gasing after him wistf uljy, his one ' thought now to reach some spot where j he could bo alone. "Handsome girl that, sir," said a voice behind him ; and Mildred started violently, to find that lie had walked right aft into the soft darkness of'-the summer night, and a feeling of strange ressntntent at what he looked upon as a daring insult from a comparative stranger,, took possession of Mm. F.or how dared this man, a passenger whom ho hardly knew by sight, speak of her like this ! "I,beg your pardon/ said the stranger quickly. "Forgive me. I meant no ofionce. What a lovely night ! Will you have a cigar?" It , was on, Mildred's lips to decline, but fooling that it would be better to accept .tho position he took, the cigar [offered. Then -a light was,. struck and held out by the stranger, and they drow close 'together, gazing full in each other's eyes, till the two rolls of leaf were well ignited, and Mildred's anger began to gather again as he resented the other's rather searching look. But it died out directly as his fellow passenger said quietly and rather, awkwardly, as he rolled his cigar in his mouth and jerked one hand towards a distant light, ' "Bright light that. Miles away, I suppose. But would that be where we are to touch first?" "Madeira," said quietly. "I don't know: This ia my first voyage." He stopped short and laid one hand upon the rail, standing just beneath one of tho swinging lanterns, quitß alone, and as far as either could have made ottt no one within sight or hearing, I while the notes of one of Waldteufel's saddest waltzes floated to their ears. Suddenly ono of, the passenger's hands came firmly down vipon.iMildred's wrist as he supported • himself- by, the brass •rail, and ho said in a low stern tono, ■ "Mr. John 'Mildred!"Mildred started violently. "Yes," he said, -'in a startled voice "How did you know my namb?" "I have been slightly in doubt, sir, ever since wo came ,on board, but I am certain now. Ulysses Club, St. James's." "Quite right," said Mildrod, wonderingly;"but I do not know you, air,, except asi a' ■fellow-pasenger.' 1 "No, of 'course not, sir, tor I would' not intrude upon you until I was perfectly sure. Will you take it quietly, sir? It is useless to make a scene. I arrest .you ;for. -the murder of Edgar Brydges. . I am from Scotland Yard." "My God!" The expected' that he had felt n» Ehould take as a "calm r&lief was agonising, and he saw nothing now but the sweed sad face of" her who had spoken to him so sympathetically but a short time back, wboso thrilling -voice still rang in his ears. • . But a few hoiirs hack he had Deen ready to welcome- -death, even the most shameful that man can die, the execrated of his fellow creatures. But she had interposed, and" seemed to hold out before him life, ecstatic life and happiness, with a future of which, he had j never dreamed. I And now there was this, — this! And with every nerve palpitating within his frame ho made ono effort to fling off ! tho hand that grasped his wrist, when another closed upon him. ; Thero was a quick effort, a heave with a strength of whoso existence ho was not aware, and with a faint cry the detective officer went over the -ail, which. Mildred clutched with both hands as he gazed downward to where there was a brilliant flash os the phosphorescent water parted, and from somewhere near at hand, as Mildred turned away, a voice shouted, "Man overboard!" a cry which seemed to thrill tho vessel from end to end. The music had ceased as if by magic, and as he stood holding on by the rail, gazing aft into the golden phosphorescent water that had been churned up by the screw, John Mildred was conscious that the deck; the "whole vessel, was palpitating^ "With life. 'Orders were ringing out, a boat was being lowered, a

buzz of question and answer raged nround him, but no one- seemed to heed his presence— he, the mainspring of the whole, was no more than tho meanest man in the ship. And yet it vibrated within his brain that by this last act in resistance of the law, whose operation he had bqen &eady to welcome, he might have added another crime- to his account And why was this ?! ne asked himself, though tho question was needless, for tho , answer thrilled him. He wished now to livo, if only to go through somo long and painful penance that should make him fit to take that hand he had shrunk from touching, and live and lovo the only woman who had ever awakened that great passion within his breast. They were alone — he and that man who was trying to arrest him — and his action had been the almost unconscious natural effort for life. No one had seen in the darkness ; no one had heeded him now. Every one was intent upon th© efforts being made to cave him who was floating half a mile astern, the direction plainly marked by two bright lights that had burst out like blue stars of hope, as the triggers were touched which set free - a couple of lifebuoys, "to be left behind by the liner when the screw bad ceased to revolve. Thought crushed out thought in the wretched .man's brain as an awful mental struggle went on, his eyes meanwhile fixed on the flashing water as the oars of the boat that had been lowered splashed up a golden spray. He felt that ho could not die. It was impossible mow. to give up. The eyes he had gaze.d into that night had avowed a sweet, sympathetic love, and if she knew -all, he read that within them as something which repeated itself now — sho would bid him for her Sake to live. And meanwhile, the wild* excitement in what was taking place literally r.aged around" hini^' but no finger pointed at him. There n\'»s none to accuse, none to say, Behold the ■murderer ! Seize mm, for it was he! s ' . No. It was more- and more beginning to be forced upon him that thero had been no witness' to his act, and ho had but to stand firm with closed lips an.i wait. His secret was "that officer's alone, and he far away astern, waiting to be saved, or to meet his end.' Which, was it to be? , ,1 Thought ran more ' swiftly stil} in j John Mildred'a breast. Would the boat reach him ? Would he have swum for ono of' the lit-up life-buoys? Would he be picked up? And if picked up, would ho be living,' or would they be too late? T^at man alone knew his secret, and if'picked up dead — dead was tho secret too. John Mildred loosened one hand from the polished rail and tried to stand firmly as he drew out a handkerchief to wine away the drops that streamed from nis forehead, trembling the while lest his action should be observed, conscious (he next moment that even, if he were noticed, tho mildest interpretation would be placed upon his act. Then came the desire to look round, and see whether she who had influenced him so strangely was near him upon the deck ; and his nerves quivered as something seemed to tqll him that she must bo amongst the trembling agitated women who were gazing wildly astern ; and at last, making a desperate effort, ho hurried dawn to his cabin, turned up the light, buried "himself at his cabin trunk, and tht n opening ' tho door stood listening and ,' frying .to make out ' what was passing cj,n> deck. What was}, to bo? What fate for him did Justice . hold , in her carefully balanced scales? He was not fit to live, lie felt 5 and. yet there was that within' him that said it was now too hard to die. 'Ho could not die now, with such a dazzling 'future befora him as "Jifo seemed to hold out.' But what was it, to bo? He" s,tood with his teoth set,',his eyes ' staring, every nerve upon the strain, until, no longer abl@ to bear i it, ho hurried once more on dock and stood olose to the cabin stairs, listening to the distant shouts that ho knew must coins from the boat ; and these were answered by a wild cheer from tho deck, and his heart sank, for the meaning was too plain. '.\ , The boat had reached the drowning man; he- had been saved; and that meant — arrest— trial — doath ! ' Death, when f almost -for tho first time, hope and happiness had shone down up his accursed life. He descended, and walked back slowly to his cabin, to stand and think, if'he could go back how to the musicroom and take that hand and hold it for a moment to his lips, he could then have come back here. A few brief words would have aroused her compassion, and it would have been easier then. "No; it would have been a coward's act. Ho could not have spoken. How fcould sho have understood, even if he had confessed all? He wajted till an hour must have passed, and no ona disturbed the silence. Then there was a burst of talking, and through bis slightly open cabin door he gathered from the eager voices that the ship's surgeon bad said all was over, that the unhappy passenger must have committed suicide, and no ,ono knew who ho was. Dead, then — and his secret too ! Life began bubbling up, as it were, till . every , nerve was, palpitating with a joyous thrill that drove down repentance, desire', for reparation, the purging of the great offence. "I musfc — I will Jive for tho future, for the life I have never known ; and then some f day — ah!" There wa$ v a buzz of voices outside the cabin v ' They were talking aloud, and he could hear more — hear the endorsement of the fact that his secret was dead, 1 and he .had but to live and wait iD penitence and hope. The next moment the captain and two of his officers pressed open tho cabin door and' stood before him. "Mr. John" Mildred," said the officer sternly — "That is, not your name on the passenger list?" "No," said the unhappy man firmly. "Then tho warrant for your arrest is right?" ''Quite," -was' the reply firmly. "That, sir is what is written upon the warrant found upon the idetectivo officer just picked up astern." "Well, sir? Btiid Mildred gravely. "The unfortunate ,man you were seen to struggle with to-night and throw over tho side." "Who caw that?" said Mildred quiotly. "I," said a voice, "the officer of tho watch. Quick !"i shouted the speaker, and lie mads a start to catch Mildred's hand, but tho bullet was quicker' still. A loud report, tho cabin filled with Emoke which floated out after the spirit gono t> &cek judgment in the great Beyond.