A SORE TEMPTATION.

Evening Star, Issue 11168, 17 February 1900, Page 2

A SORE TEMPTATION.

By John K. » jBTBj ' of 'ln the Toils,’ Lindsays,’ The Broken Fetter,’ ‘A Million of Money,’ ‘The Thumb-print.’ eta [Copyright.] ' CHAPTER XIV. TIIK VKKDICT. When Richard Cardalc and Dr Dryburgh arrived at the Grange they found the window still open, and tho squire still lying where he had fallen. But he was nob alone. Mrs Cr.rdale sat on a chair near the body, gazing at it as though it fascinated her. She had nothing on but a skirt, and a shawl thrown over her shoulders. It seemed as if the tragical death of the old man had numbed

her intellect, for she made no attempt to speak to her son or the doctor when they entered the room, but stared at them as if she did not understand why' they had come. When her son went up to her, and, laying his hand on her shoulder, said gently: “ You had better go back to bed, mother; you can do no good here,” she only shuddered '•‘'snghtly, and remained where she was. Even when the doctor rose from his knees at the side of the dead man, saying abruptly : “It is of no use. Ho has been dead for the last hour,” she sighed deeply, but said nothing. “ Come, mother,” said Richard, “ let me help yon. ujwta.irs ” ; but she waved him aside, and crept np by herself, holding on by the banisters as she went. Card ale would have had the body carried upstairs and decently laid out, but the doctor insisted that it must remain where it was till tho arrival of the police ; and he urged tho yonng man to ride olf to Melford

at once and give information. But Richard seemed to be in no burry to-do this. He went and roused tho groom, but it was a long time before Iris horse was brought round ; and even when it was at the door he. Waited to see that tho doctor was supplied with some refreshment before he set off. I)r Dryburgh could not understand why the young man did nob make more haste*;

bub the fact wis that Cordate firmly believed that if he presented himself at the police station at Melford ho would be arrested, Ho naturally supposed that Campbell, after failing to overtake him, had gone there to denounce him, and to urge the police authorities to capture him. He had summoned tho doctor partly in the faint hope that his uncle might not be dead after all. and partly with the idea of strengthening his case by telling his version of the story on the first opportunity. He had not paired to think that if he sought to clear h'nv- If by declaring that Campbell had shot hi ■ w!e ho would be compelled to charge Ov ’ -■ll with the crime, and do his best to lii-; capture. 1 by the time the doctor sugp< . d that the police should bo sent for at nnc;* J Jiad had time to retie !, He had wiL doubt that Campbell. after failing to cplih him up, had gone straight to Melford; and ho thought it most likely that when he presented himself at the police office there ho would be detained in

custody. But ho was mounted ; Campbell j must walk. It was possible ho might get there first, and be able to take at once the position of accuser. He struck his horse with his whip as the thought crossed his mind; but tho nest moment he bod checked the animal, and brought him to a milk. For he was not prep«red to s-wear an innocent man’s life away, and he saw it might come to that The idea of Campbell’s flying the errantry had not occurred to him. for of course he did I not know that Campbell had overheard part i of his conversation with Dr Dryburgh. Ho supposed that it would bo a case of crossswearing between Campbell and himself, ~pnd that tho law would not he able to layhold of either of them for want of sufficient evidence. But in the meantime it was clear that if be delayed to call in the police he would lay himself open to suspicion from the first. He set his teeth, therefore, and with a groan that was half a dogged defiance of Fate, whipped up his horse to a canter. He could scarcely believe his ears when he was told at the police station that that was the first they had heard of the tragedy at the Grange. An inspector and a. "constable set out at once in a dog cart, Richard Cardale following on horseback. They

understood from what he had said I that the house had been broken into ; and Cardale took care not to undeceive them. He bqgan to think thsvt Campbell meant to throw up the sponge at once, and it certainly was not ,hk (Oardalo’s) interest that ho should be captured. He searched his memory, but could ■ not remember’that he had made any charges against Campbell by name in his conversation with Dr/Dryburgh. If only the coroner’s jury comld be persuaded to bring in a verdict of murder against some person unknown what la blessed relief that would be! In any case, (the fact that the fool Campbell had scon fit Jto tako himself off at that juuc--*fcttrevwas a rfiecc of rare good fortune. of horror and bewilderment that tho young man’s minrl

and soul since tho firing of the fatal shot’ lifted a little. Things were not so bud, ho told himself, but they might have been worse—a great deiß- worse. If the squire had lived long cnongh to denounce him, if Campbell had gone straight on to the police office and told his story, he would have had little chance of saving his neck. A shudder ran through his whole frame as he thought of it. Decidedly he would do nothing to Linder Campbell’s escape. If only the man had sense enough, ho said to himself, to go to Crowbridge at once and catch tho night mail for the south all might yet be welL Seeing that there was no broken glass about, and no signs of a forcible entry, the police inspector gave it :ts his opinion that the squire had committed suicide? This was a new idea to Cardale. He sewed on it eagerly ; but a little reflection told him that it would not hold water, Campbell's absence must bo noticed and commented upon. Besides, there was his own conversation with the doctor. He did not at the moment say that tho idea was that of a fool or an idiot, but, on the con

'trary, pretended to be immensely impressed. It was part of his scheme to keep on good terms with the members of the police force. In a short time, however, he saw that this game was too dangerous. Tho inspector was not altogether a fool, and bo might discover that he was playing with him. So Cardale, attef meditating a while, shook his ..head, and said gravely ; “ That notion of yours, that my poor uncle made away with himself, is a good one, Mr Oat way ; but I’m afraid it hardly fits in this case.” “ And why shouldn’t it fit, Mr Cardale?” “ Because there was no weapon found beside him.” “ But you told me you picked up a doublebarrelled pistol from the floor and ran out to see who had fired the shot!” "So I did. And though I couldn’t see anybody, I heard tho sound of a man running ” “You heard that?” broke in the inspector. "Why tho deuce, ah-, didn’t you tell me that at first?” “ I must have mentioned it—it was on my mind to speak of it,” stammered Cardale. “ I’ll swear you never said a word about it in my hearing,” said tie police officer. “ But no matter. Only, you see, Mr Cardale ,” and the inspector’s manner became more deferential as he remembered 'that he was in all probability speaking to the ne^^quire—“ yon see, that narrows down tho area of observation, so to speak, very much. We .ulay presume that the window was closed. The shot was not fired through

the window; therefore it must have been fired by someone in-the bouse.” “ Or wbo hiid gained access to the house,” put in Cardale. “ We. will look for signs of violent entry,” ‘aid the inspector dryly. Then a moment ’•'tar he walked up to Richard Cardale, and -aid to him in a low tone: “ Como now, Mr Cardale, be frank with

>■'*. I have been frank with you. Didn’t • oti see enough of this man to recognise ,111. (hough you could not see-his face?” Richard Cardale swore stoutly that he did i ot.

“ But you suspect someone, do you not?” ‘'A man can’t help having his suspicions.” “Just so. Now, will you be good enough to furnish me with a list of the inmates of 'the house?” They were mustered, and it was soon dis-

covered that Hector Campbell, was not in his room. His bed had not been slept in. <( “ Mr Cardalc,” said the inspector, sternly, “I can sympathise with your wanting to shield one of the family, but it is my duty to find out the truth of this affair. You mustn’t let family affection, or family pride, or any such reason, prevent your' telling mo all you know.” This was more than Cardalc had ever hoped for. Ho had some difficulty in concealing his satisfaction, but ho dropped his eves on tho door, with the air of a man whose good-natured intentions have been seen through and frustrated, and muttered ;

I can’t tell you any more than I’ve told you already. As for Mr Campbell, Fye no doubt he’ll be able to give an account of himself when tho time comes.” “But the time has come!” said the inman?”"’ 1! ' Ilgn y ' “ Wheru is the gentle- “ How should I know?”

“Bnt don’t you know?” no, I don't. But one thing is certain, ho was at Melford Fair to-dav, so ho can’t be lar away.”

,nw°l hn<l i y °i f tbe P oor ok! was carried I o his bedroom, and the coroner's officer sunurKmed tho jury for the following dav. At the inquest Richard Cardalc was almost the only witness of importance, and his evidence did not amount to much. He said that ho had been awakened by tho sound of a pistol-shot, and scarcely waiting to throw on some clothes he had run downstairs, and found the body of his uncle lying on the floor ot tho library. A pistol lay on the floor at a little distance. He picked it up, but could nob say with certainty what sort of a pistol' it was. He did not think it was a revolver. It was most likely an old-fashioned horsepistol. After trying in vain to raise his uncle from the floor, ho had run out at the 1* rcnch window, which was open, and, not seeing anyone, he had stood for a moment listening. He had then hoard tho footsteps of a man running, but at what distance ho could not say. Sound travels far on a still night such as that was. He saw he had no chance of overtaking the man, and be thought it was of more importance that he should go for the doctor. He did so, and the doctor advised him to send for the police. He lode off at once to the nearest police office, and gave information-. That was all. It vias a plain tale, well told; and not a

soul in the room suspected that it was not a irue one. It seemed that no one but Richard Cardale (who slept just over the horary) had heard the pistol shot. Mrs Cardale was still suffering from tho shook ,o nor nerves, and the doctor said she was too ill to attend the court, the inspector adding that ha had questioned her, and that she. could throw no light upon the matter. But the hank manager from Melford was there to say that the squire had drawn two days before his death tho sum of four hundred and twenty pounds in bank notes. Mr Grew, the lawyer, was called to suv that he had investigated the affairs of the" deceased as well as time would allow, and he found that tho squire had changed two live-pound notes, but tho rest were missing— could not be found anywhere. The motive for the murder .Weis here apparent. Mi Drew .'.rlded thut he hjul lately drnivn up a new will for the decoded, bv which a large legacy was left to Mr Richard C.ir-

cuilc, but the bulk of the property to Mr Hector Campbell. He bad not, of course mentioned the contents of the new -will to anyone, least of all to those immediately concerned. Whether the squire had told Id's nephews, or either of. them, what he had done, he, Mr Drew, could not, of course, say ; but he thought it extremely unlikely that he had done so. The will was sure to give rise to jealousies uud heartburnin' r s if its provisions wore known. ° The coroner's officer was called to say that be had nnvdc an attempt to summon Mr Hector Campbell to giveevidcuce, but had tailed to find him. Tie had not been seen at tho Grange since the night of the murder.

Oil this evidence the jury at once found a verdict of wilful murder against Hector Campbell, and a warrant was issued for his arrest. CHARTKR XV. HECTOR CAMPIIKI.T, COVKRS HIS TRACKS. Campbell reached CTowbridge in time for

the mail, and lie took a ticket for London. Buc thinking it most likely that Ifis description would be telegraphed by the police fiom Melford, and i*al: he ho arrested on his arrival in London, he slipped out of the runway carriage at Peterborough after the tickets had been inspected, and booked for Hatfield. He had to wait some time for a tram, but at Hatfield he got a fastlocal train, so that he reached Kino's Cross soon after ten. c '

Without waiting to get any breakfast, lie went by the Underground to the bank to turn his notes into'gold. He knew’ there was a risk m doing this. It was finite possible that a. memorandum of the numbers of the notes bad been found in the squire’s desk and telegraphed to the bank. lint he hat thought it all over during (he. joiirncv. and he had come to the conclusion that the risk was one that must be. run. It was either that or starving. He know no one no could trust to cash tho notes for him even it ho had boon able to invent a snffiCiontly plausible* story for not doiny it- himself. So. having bought a leather baa to carry his gold in, he went to the Bank of Engla.ncl, and with an indifferent air orosented his notes for payment. 1

His heart heat so as to cause him positive physical pain. Every moment while the cashier was examining the notes and weighing out the sovereigns he expected to find a constable’s hand on his shoulder But nothing happened. The cashier weighed the. gold, and shovelled it across the counter; and Campbell not stopping to count it, thrust it into his bag, and made for the door.

As he was crossing tho threshold a man looked at him narrowly, and said : “ Is your name Hector Campbell?”

Campbell stared at him in silence. A wdd idea of denying Ifis identity came into his mind, but he dismissed it as’foolish, and '•Hswerod iu a husky voice that it was. “ Then you had better romo to the office with me. We have been trying to find vnu for some weeks, but nobody seemed to know anything about yon.”

By the time this was said Campbell had bad time to consider that this man did not look tho least like a detective officer. He was stout, well-dressed, well set up, clean shaven, ruddy about the gills. His shining hat, his rich silk tie, his expensive umbrella?, all spoke the man of means. Campbell could not imagine what bo could want with him, nr why he had been seeking him for weeks ; but ho did not stop to inquire—simply bowed and followed him.

The stranger led Campbell into one of tho narrow lanes that connect the great arteries of the Oitv of London, and turned into a large, well-lighted office on the ground floor. ’

Through a room filled with clerks Campbell followed the stranger into a small apartment with glass walls and a glass door marked “ Private,” and tho two men seated themselves.

“ I see von don’t remember mo, Mr Campbell.” said the well-dressed man, removing his hat, and showing a large pink cranium surrounded with a fringe of straw-colored hair. “ But I remember you very well. I never forget a face. on came to sec me once in Birmingham about a knife-cleaning machine.” &

‘‘You are Mr Spender?” ‘‘That is my name.” “ But it was not you I saw.” “I was in the room for a minute, though, and I saw you,” said the manufacturer, with a smile. ‘ And now, about this machine. I have had a model made, and really it seems to do its work fairly well. I presume, if we go into the thing, you are prepared to assign your patent rights to us in consideration of a royalty?”

For a few seconds Campbell did not, literally, know where he was. or what had happened to him. The thing had come upon him like a clap of thunder in a cloudless sky. Ho was confused, bewildered, dazed. His

breath came in long, laborious gasps. Mr Spender, seeing his agitation, considerately turned away, and began to open some letters that lay before him.

“I onlv had provisional protection,” Campbell. “ The first thing will be to take out regular patents, with proper specifications.”

Mr Spender nodded. 11 We will see to that.” said ho.

“Then, as to assigning—l shall ho very happy to assign to you. hut I would rather sell outright, than have a royalty.” Then, seeing Mr Spender look doubtful, he went

on: “I am going abroad, and it may be some years before! return to this country.” " Wo could remit you the amount of' the royalties to whatever part of the world you liappeped to bo in,” said Mr Spender. Campbell shook his head. What I want is a certain fixed income,” said he. “With a. royalty J could never

calculate with anything like certainty on what I was going to receive. What will you give me lor the patent rights in a lump sum?”

“That would be a speculation,” said Mr Spender ; “ and wo don’t like speculation in our firm. I must consult my partner.” “ And when can I hear from you?” “To-morrow morning. If you call then we will have tho specification ready for your signature.” Campbell said he would call, and left the office.

It was a great risk, a terrible risk, this remaining in Loudon after the police wen; in search of him ; hut Campbell knew that the four hundred pounds would not last long, and feared that he would never have such another chance of obtaining a comvictoncc for life. And he told himself that it was better to stand his ground now than to leave as it were a coni behind him by which he mivht be at any time discovered and dragged back to England to bo tried and executed.

For, weak as Campbell had shown himself, he was not given to self-delusion. He knew that if he were brought to trial he would probably be found guilty, and that, if he. were found guilty he would certainly suffer the last penalty of the law.

But, notwithstanding this terrible fate hanging over him, Campbell-went about his preparations for concealment with perfect coolness.

He took rooms in a moderate-sized house in a quiet suburb, and speedily made himself acquainted with the situation of the back door that led into the garden, so that he might have a- chance of escaping in that direction if need be. His bag of gob! lay where lie could lay his hands upon it in an instant.

But it was in his visits to the city that the chief danger lay. Mot only Mr Spender, but bis clerks, and the officials of the Patent Office, must know that a Hector Campbell was to bo found at a certain address in London. If one of them happened to see in the newspapers that a Hector Campbell had been found guilty of murder by a coroner's jury down in Yorkshire ! And yet, the chance was a. slight one. Tho tragedy at the Grange was scarcely noticed in the Loudon papers—merely a paragraph in an obscure corner. The chief danger really lav in tho name “ Hector.” It is, or used to be, not an uncommon name in the Highlands of Scotland, but it is almost unknown else-

where. it could hardly fail to attract attention. Fortunately, Campbell had not Is.-cn in tho habit of using it in his signature, signing himself simply “'ll. Campbell.” He knew he was running a serious risk ; but the bitterness of poverty had so eaten into his soul that he thought, it was worth while to nm even that risk for the sake of gaining what would place him beyond the reach of want.

At the. next meeting between Campbell and Mr Spender, the manufacturer said that although it was contrary to their usual practice, they were prepared to offer him a. lump sum fur his invention three thousand pounds. This, (hough a respectable sum, was far short of what Campbell had expected. Ho said ho believed the patent would prove to be a very valuable one. Mr Spender said he hoped and believed it would, and advised the inventor to be content with a royalty. Hut Campbell stood to his guns. He would not have a royalty, and he would have more than three thousand pounds. He said that if he cared to bring out a company to work the invention he could gel ten times as much as Spender and Co. were offering, and hinle 1 at breaking olf negotiations altogether. In the end. after a day nr two of haggling, the linn offered five thousand, and this Camp-

bell accepted. The money was to be paid at once; and within half an hour of the bargain being concluded the wary .Scotchman had already begun to make his arrangements for covering his tracks, st that if it should liecnmc known that Campbell the inventor and Campbell who was wanted by the police, were one and the same person it should he mpr.s sihle to trace him by means of the money he was to receive.

With Ihe four hundred pounds in his possession he opened accounts at three dilferent banks, each of them iu a dilfevctit name. H; (Leu went to three sharebrokers, and (giving in each case a fictitious name) instructed them to buy a small number of railwav shares. By degrees he bought other shares, and gradually had them transferred t> himself under the name of Crawford, 'lliis’was the name by which he determined to be known in future.

Daring this time Campbell kept nut of sight as much us possible, living almost entirely indoors, and conducting his business by correspondence. indeed, he never went nut in the daytime, unless it were to engage rooms in different places, so as to be able to give addresses corresponding with the fictitious personalities he assumed. He was most careful to take notes for the cheques he received from Messrs Spender and Co., changing them at different times for gold, which he. again exchanged for notes and paid Into one of the banks with which he dealt. By these, and other similar expedients he made Hector Campbell disappear o!f the face of the earth. There was onlv Hcnrv Crawford left.

All this time Campbell bad been considering where he should settle down. Of course it was safer to go abroad ; but Campbell bad a good deal of foolhardiness about him, ami he could not bear the idea of perpetual banishment. Xor did be relis'h the thought of leading a wandering life. He had been a waif on the ocean of humanity long enough. He longed for a settled place of abode, tor a home.

After a good den.l of consideration he came to the conclusion that if he took a cottage in some quiet but not too remote district of England ho would be practically as safe as he would be anywhere. In a short time he would form acquaintances who’ would only know him by his assumed name. He would lead in any case a very retired life. His brush ami pencil, with a few books and a fishing rod, would give him all the amusement he wanted. Fishing he had always been fond of, and he finally decided to try Devonshire.

Cautious to the last, he would not show himself at a London terminus, hut took an early train to (Surbiton, and joined the South-western express there. He carried bis scrip and share certificates with him, taking but a very moderate quantity of luggage, so that be might be perfectly free to move about as be chose.

At length, after wandering about for a fortnight, ho came to a village that he thought woukl suit him exactly. It was at some distance from a railway station, yet not so far as to make one feel entirely cut off from civilised society. The country was undulating and delightfully wooded. There was a large park, belonging to the lord of the manor, to which the villagers and the people who resided in tho neighborhood were admitted when they chose. There was a trout stream to which access could bo had on easy terms ; and, best of all, there was a cottage to let in a charming situation, which commanded a lovely view over a considerable stretch of country. The house was too large for the needs of a solitary man of simple tastes, but the rent was moderate, and the chance was not one to be let slip. Campbell took the house and furnished it, engaged a middle-aged woman to be his cook and housekeeper, and then, for the first time in his wild, unsettled life, knew what it was to bo at rest.

Strange as it may seem, the danger in which ho stood—a peril which must always exist, avoid and forget it as he might—■ did not trouble him much. Knowing himself to be innocent, lie did not suffer from remorse, He had little or nothing to reproach himself with in regard to his uncle—his only regret was that the old man should have died without, hearing any expression of the gratitude which he felt for the gift of four hundred pounds. As for the loss of his good name in the neighborhood of the Orange, that did not trouble him in the slightest degree. He cared for none ot them • let them think what tlicv liked. He congratulated himself now that he had not done what everybody would have told him was the proper thing to do. If he had remained at the Orange, he often asked himself, where would he he now? In prison, on a charge of murder! Campbell shuddered when he thought of it, and hugged himself in his present security.

Hut it is often precisely when we think there will bo no change, when an unbroken vista of peaceful monotony stretches before our eyes, that change is nearest to us. C ampbell had not been three weeks at Rosemumt —that was the name of his cottage —when, opening the London paper that came to him by post every day, the first thing his eye lighted on was the following advertisement :

“If Hector Campbell, formerly tf Loch Aline,, Argyllshire, and lately of London, will send his present address to A.L.. care of Messrs Craven, advertising agents, Fleet .street, E.C., be may hear of something to his advantage.” For some time Campbell sat staring at the notice like a man who had lost his wits. Could this have been inserted by the police? Surely not. they could not be fools enough to tnink that they would catch him by so simple a trick. Besides, what could thev know of Loch Aline? Then, the last words of the advertisement were certainly peculiar. Campbell decided to take the rest of the day to consider what he should do. (To bo continued.)