HER OWN FOLK

Evening Star, Issue 20687, 9 January 1931, Page 2

HER OWN FOLK

By MADGE AMBROSE

[■'Author of - Too Proud To Love,’ ‘ Trespassers will be Prosecuted,’ etc.]

[All Rights Reserved.]

CHARTER X. It' was earlier than usual when Hazel arrived back breathless at Coleton, lor she had run and walked qmckly in the hope that the exhaustion of her body nigjit give some (veace to her mind. With that last furious denunciation of him she had left Raymond Travers alone in the woods and had hurried away, trying to convince herself tlrat she really meant what she had said Jbhat she truly never wished to see ;thim again, though all tne while her Ifneart cried out against what was bke a blasphemy on her lofe. Occupied as she was with her own thoughts, she failed to notice at first, the change that had come over the old sleepy quarter of the town. And then it dawned on her that there were fai more people about than usual —that men and women were collected at cottage doors talking excitedly to one another. The children, too, seemed 'changed. Instead of playing, they were hanging about on the outskirts of the little groups of • their elders with awed and troubled faces. She noticed, too, that there - were two policemen at the corner by the clock tower where usually there was only one. But 'she remained in ignorance of the cause of this unaccustomed commotion till she reached home. As soon as she entered the passage her aunt’s diminutive servant came rushing firm the kitchen in a state of the wildest excitement. “ Oh, miss, have you heard? Hazel shook her head, The girl drew in a big breath, almost as if sho were about to dive, and desirous of storing up a largo amount of air for her submersion, and then let herself go in one wild jumble of words. “Up in the chalk pits, they for nd him, miss, all beaten and bruised and battered, and him such a fine old gentleman. And it was his son who found him, him as came to see you yesterday, and thev say it’s driven him oil his head. And all. the police are out n-searching everywhere, and when they do catch him he’ll be, hanged, nmi may God have mercy on his soul.’’ The last pious ejaculation was clearly the result of the little maid’s r 2 tensive perusal of a brand of literature devoted almost entirely to the caroei s of the criminal classes, and clearly in no wise represented her own feelings. Hazel made an effort to discover what she was talking about. • “ Are you Saving that someone s been killed, Mary” she inquired, “and that Mr Morton found him? Mary nodded her head eagerly. “It was Sir Stephen himself, miss, and Mr Morton’s the baronet now. He was lying in. the bottom of the chalk pit, and Mr Morton that was. was quite near and heard him call out.” For a moment Hazel suspected that the girl’s fervid imagination had built up this story of a brutal crimb on some slight rumour that she had heard, but the appearance of her aunt soon made her realise that the garbled tale bore some relation, at any rate, to facts. The crime and the probability of the criminal being arrested formed the one subject of conversation at breakfast and in the shop afterwards. The mild discipline that Miss Jarrow exercised over her assistants broke down lamentably. It was impossible to prevent them gossiping with customers regarding the tragedy of Thraxton Woods. Indeed, the customers camo to the shop, it seemed, not so much to buy as to talk. A line of picture post cards presenting a photographic view of Thraxton Woods and what might or might not he the chalk pit, went off briskly. Otherwise, though the shop was frequently crowded, business was stagnant. At midday a sensation was created by the announcement that a man had been arrested on suspicion. Further particulars were almost immediately forthcoming. Peter Burton, entering the shop flushed and excited, gave Miss Jarrow the news. “ They’ve got him right enough, Miss Jarrow—a great big, hulking bmte of a fellow. Police Constable Dalton came across him lurking near the woods, and colrttrcd him singlehanded. They’ve just brought him into the police station, and if they can get enough evidence against him there’ll be a special sitting of the Bench this afternoon.”

Before he got to the end of his statement he was surrounded by a motley group’ of customers and assistants, all eager not to miss a word.

“ They sent for Mr Morton—or Sir Arthur, I should call him—to see if he can identify him. They say he’s a

stranger to these parts, and there's a lot of money been found on him. The sergeant’s just gone to the bank to see if they can trace any of the notes that were in his pockets. It seems pretty clear that the motive oY the crime was robbery.” The next thrills in the sensations of the morning was provided by the sight of the new baronet driving down the High street to the police station, round wluch a knot of curious townspeople were gathered, staring, as people will stare in such circumstances, at the very ugly architectural features of the building, as if they might afford a clue to what was going on inside. It was just before the dinner hour when Hazel, chancing to look up from the counter behind which she was installed, saw the green baize door leading into the house standing open, and Mary, the diminutive maid, on the threshold, beckoning to her furiously. “What is it you want, Mary?” she inquired, making her way to the girl’-s side.

“ Lawk-a-mercy, miss, it’s the inspector himself, and he wants to see Miss Jarrow. Come round to the kitchen door he did when I was getting the tray ready, and told me to fetch the mistress, quiet like. "Will you tell her, Miss, for I daren’t go in tho shop? ” Hazel, without attracting any attention to her movements, made her way to her aunt’s side, and informed her that a visitor wished to see her on important business; then, thinking that perhaps she might ho some support to her aunt, she accompanied her through the shop to the house. That her forethought was justified was apparent from Miss Jarrow’s agitation when, on opening the parlour door, she found herself confronted by the inspector of police. She gave one little gasping sob, and seemed on the point ' of dropping to the floor, until Hazel j managed to support her to a chair, j “ Please don’t alarm yourself, Miss Jarrow,” the inspector said with a kindly smile. “I have only come here j to get some information which 1 think i you may be able to give us.” I Hazel, with her arm about her aunt, j could feel that she was trembling. | She bent down and whispered to her j soothingly; ; “ It’s all right, Auntie, you needn’t I get the wind up. He hasn’t come to I arrest you.” j Her jesting words, however, had not the desired effect upon her aunt. She sat there staring blankly at tho inspector, her lips trembling furiously. “ You’ve heard probably that we’vo arrested a man in connection with the murder of Sir Stephen Morton. On searching him we found a number of bank notes. Our prisoner is not at all the sort of man who would be likely to have such a sum about him if it had been come by honestly, and so we took the notes to the bank on the chance that tho manager might ho able to trace them. He was able to tell us that yesterday morning they were issued to you.” Miss Jarrow sat quite still in her chair. The inspector, after waiting a moment as if expecting her to say something, went on. “ Sir Arthur Morton came down to the station at our request to see if he could identify the man. It is a fact, I believe, Miss Jarrow, that Sir Arthur called here yesterday afternoon? ” It was Hazel who replied for her aunt. “ Yes, he called here at about 5 o’clock, inspector, stayed to tea, and left , about 8. But what has all this got to do with my aunt? ” “Just this: Sir Arthur, ns he came out of the house, Miss, saw this very man lurking outside. It was rather 1 dark, you may remember, and he eolj lided with him, without at first having < seen him. As this man had all those [ notes on him which had been issued i to Miss Jarrow yesterday morning, ■ I’ve come here to know if she can 1 throw any light on the matter.” j “ You think that this man may ; have broken into the house and stolen I tile notes? ” Hazel inquired. “ Well, yes, unless Miss Jarrow gave them to the man, which sounds unlikely,” the inspector replied; “or, of course, there may be some other explanation. Yon keep your money locked up, I suppose, Miss Jarrow? ” After- a _moment’s hesitation, Aunt Martha pointed with a trembling hand towards tho safe that stood on the floor in a corner of the room. “I always lock my money up there,” she stammered, “ but I had none there

last night. T paid it all away, every penny of it.” Even as sho was speaking there flashed into Hazel’s mind the recollection of tho mysterious visitor line aunt had had the previous evening—the man who had knocked and been admitted by her aunt herself almost immediately after Morton’s departure. For the first time the girl began to suspect that her aunt had some real reason for her agitation. Whatever' was the mystery, she clearly desired, before all .tilings, to keep it from the inspector. A sense of affectionate loyalty made Hazel decide at once to come to her aunt’s rescue.

“Sly aunt settled several large accounts yesterday,” she replied. Tho inspector appeared far from satisfied.

“ But did she settle an account for one hundred pounds? You see, Miss, the block of notes found on our prisooner corresponds exactly with those issued by the bank. “Yes, there was one account for a hundred,” Hazel replied after a glance at her aunt, the expression of whose eyes seemed to entreat her to Jet her imagination have full play. “ You paid the traveller from Perkins and Barlow's. didn't yon, Auntie?” Her aunt nodded assent to this piece of pure fiction. “ I suppose this traveller you speak of isn’t in the town, Miss, is he?” Hazel hadn't the slightest idea, but she denied bis presence in Goletou at the moment with some fervour.

“ Perhaps you will give me the address of Messrs Perkins and Barlow’s bead office? We’ll have to communicate with them.”

Hazel saw- the dangers that lay ahead. Once the police communicated with Messrs Perkins and Barlow they would discover that no account for a hundred pounds had been paid to any of their representatives. But for the moment the story must serve; her principal object was to get rid of the inspector and to elicit from her aunt in private what it was that was causing her so much obvious alarm and uneasiness. Afterwards sho must trust to her ingenuity to explain away her statement about the payment of a hundred pounds. She gave the inspector the address ho wanted, and that, official, having entered it in his note book, was about to leave, when Miss Jarrow stopped him with a question. “Who is the man you have arrested, inspector?” “He’s a stranger to these parts, but he’s given us tho name of John Hickson.” It was Hazel who escoi-ted the inspector to the kitchen door, and with an air of perfect composure wished him good morning. Then she turned hurriedly to tho parlour. Her aunt .was seated where she had left her, the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Auntie, dear,” she exclaimed, dropping on her knees by her side ami putting her arms about her, “ won’t you tell me what is the matter? I guessed you didn’t want the inspector to know about that man who called hero last night—that’s why J invented that story about Perkins and Barlow. But won’t you tell me ? What is troubling you? 1 might bo able to help you.” Aunt Martha clung to her like a child.

“ Really, my dear, I don’t know what to do—l don’t know what to do. That ever I should see this day. Disgraced anti dishonoured. All these years I have kept the secret, and now

She checked herself abruptly, as if frightened that she had already said too much.

“Don’t tell mo if you’d rather not, auntie,” said Hazel soothingly, “ but if there’s anything I, can do, let me know. Remember, dear I’ll stand by you through thick and thin.” Her words seemed to encourage her aunt, for she grew gradually calmer. “ Will you go this afternoon, my dear, to the court, and let me know what’s happened, f daren’t go myself •-and 1 must know,”

“Of course I’ll go, auntie. But just tell nit this, won’t you? Is the man they’ve arrested the man who called hero last night?’’ Her aunt’s lingers tightened their grasp upon her arm. “ Don’t ask mo—you musn’t ask me. 1 must keep my secret to myself. I can never lift my head again. All those years I’ve been looked up to and respected in Coleton. And what would John Clode say?” Anxious and bewildered as she was, Hanoi could not suppress the taint smile at this abrupt conclusion of her aunt’s hysterical outburst. “ What would John Clode say”? It seemed ns if the whole of her aunt’s anguish was summed up in that question. “ From what I’ve seen of Mr Clode, auntie, he’d say exactly what you’d like him to say. But don’t distress yoursell any more, dear. I’ll go to the court this afternoon and I’ll bring you all the information you want. And I’ll stand by you through thick and thin.”

Hazel did not find it so easy, however, to carry out her purpose as she had imagined. Coleton court-house was only a small place in which a hundred was a crowd, and as the entire population of the town was struggling to obtain admission at 3 o’clock that afternoon, it seemed an utterly hopeless proposition that she would ever bo able to get inside. A policeman whom she consulted waved her haughtily aside.

“ if you aren’t one of the witnesses you’d be a deal better at home. It isn’t a sort of case for young ladies like you.”

Hazel was in despair. Site could not explain the imperative reasons why she must listen to the hearing of the case. But her aunt relied upon her, and somehow she must get in. As she was casting about in despair for some means of effecting her object a. large grey car came slowly down the High street. The policeman immediately became busy clearing the people aside. “Stand back, there!” he exclaimed, gently edging Hazel on to tho pavement

Looking up, the girl saw that tlic occupant of the car was. Raymond Travers. For a moment sho was surivnsed to see him, for from what she knew of him sho realised that ho was not the hind of man who would take pleasure in such a scone. And yet, he was getting out of his car and making his way towards tho court-house, the policeman officiously clearing a 'path for him. A possible reason for his iiresenco there suddenly flashed through her.

“ Is Mr Travers a magistrate?” she inquired of tho person standing nearest to her. “ Yes, of course he is.” tho man replied. <: He's been a J.P. these six years.”

For a few seconds Hazel’s bruin was the battleground of contending emotions. Only that morning she bad told Raymond Travers that she never wished to speak to him again. Now, unless she did speak to him, her chances of getting in to the court and fulfilling her promise to her aunt were doomed. Tho next instant sho swallowed pride, and as Raymond Travers stalked past her in tho wake of the policeman, sho caught his arm. ‘‘Wr Travers,” she said in a low, anxious voice.

Raymond Travers turned and looked down with a start. To his amazement 1m saw that it was Hazel, tho girl who had sworn that, she never wished to see or_ speak to him again, who was standing there bv bis side and looking pleadingly up in bis face.

CHAPTER XI

“ I have very important reasons for wishing to bo present in court. You will he conferring a great favour on mo if you could find me a place.” Hazel’s face was crimson, and her eyes dropped as they met his. To ask this favour of him after the fierce denunciations she had hurled at him in the beech woods that morning was, she felt, a complete sacrifice of her pride, a miserable surrender of all the vows she had taken, but for her aunt’s sake it had to be done.

’* Of course, Miss Keane. Come with me and I’ll find you a seat.”

Another man might have questioned the motive that was taking her to such a place—to hear the evidence of a sordid crime—and she was grateful to him that ho accepted at once her explanation that she had important reasons for wishing to be present. His attitude towards her, indeed, almost suggested that that violent scene in the beech woods could never have taken place, for Ids voice and manner were both friendly and cordial. Ho touched the policeman on the shoulder. “Kindly find a place for this lady in the court, constable. There will probably he plenty of room at the solicitors’ table.” ■ln less than a minute Hazel found herself, as if by a miracle, seated just below the raised dais which accommodated the magistrates. A rail separated her from the packed body of the court. Her position was somewhat conspicuous, but bv leaning back she managed to shelter herself from the general view behind the portly figure of a solicitor. Presently the magistrates filed in, and looking up she saw Raymond Travers take his seat with the others. She noticed how ho seemed to stand out from the rest of his fellow judges, if only by reason of his grave, composed face, as he sat back in his chair with folded arms. The next instand her eyes were riveted on the dock where the prisoner was standing. He was a man of middle age, with a face burnt brick-red by the sun, a heavy, brutalised face, but not altogether destitute of lines and features that suggested refinement. He stood there with a dogged, purposeful air, as if ho had something to accomplish which he meant to see through; but it was quite clear from his demeanour that the position in which ho found himself now was not unfamiliar. As Hazel studied him she wondered more and more what could he the relations between this man and her aunt. The proceedings were quite formal. The inspector of police, before asking for a remand for further inquiries to ha instituted, outlined how the man had been arrested near the precincts of Thraxton Woods, and, being unable to give any account of himself, had been taken by Police-constable Dalton, to Coleton. Police Constable Dalton, in giving evidence in. a voice that suggested that he already felt sergeant’s stripes upon his arm, related the circumstances of the arrest, and added the statement of the prisoner that his name was “ John Dickson,” and that he was “ on the tramp.” The inspector, having been sworn, related tho interview between the accused and himself at tho station. On being searched a hundred pounds in notes had been found upon the prisoner, a circumstance in itself suspicious, considering the man had said he was “ on the tramp.” Sir Morton was then called, and something of a sensation was created in court as he stepped into the box. Hazel, glancing at him, noticed that a subtle change had come over those features she knew so well. His face, which was very pale, expressed a strength and determination of which his character, as she had known it, had been singularly lacking. In a subdued voice he related for the second time that day—for the proceedings before the coroner had taken place in the morning, and the obvious verdict of “ Wilful murder against some person or persons unknown 1 ’ had already been returned—the discovery of In's father's body, and tho efforts ho had made to track the murderer. He was questioned by the inspector as to his movements that evening. “I called at the house of Miss Jarrow in tho High street at five o’clock that evening, and remained there till eight.” “ When you left Miss Jarrow’s house did you see anybody standing outside ?”

“ Yes, 1' saw a man. It was rather dark, and I came out in a hurry and ran into him.”

“ Do you see that man here?” Morton pointed to the figure in the dock. “ Yes.”

“ It was then eight o’clock,” the inspector went on. “ Will you tell the Bench how you passed your time after leaving Miss J arrow’s and your finding the deceased in the chalk pits.” “ I went to the ‘ Old Bell ’ to see if I could get a conveyance. I remained there for abbut twenty minutes, leaving in the company of Mr Raymond Travers. Shortly after leaving the village I met a lady with whom T am acquainted and we strolled slowly together towards Thraxton. She was still in my company when wo were walking through the woods, and I heard my father’s cry for help.” “Do you know what time it was then ?” 11 Yes, a little after nine.”

“ In the interval between your leaving Miss .farrow’s house and your discovery of the deceased, a man would have had plenty of time to walk from Coleton to the woods?” “ Yes, obviously.” That brought Sir Arthur’s evidence to a conclusion, and the inspector formally asked for a remand. They were in hopes, lie said of obtaining further important evidence. John Dickson was asked if he had anything to say.

“Nothing, your Worship.” Jie replied in a gruff voire, “if you find me guilty I’m ready to swing, but I’d nothing to do with this business.” It was with those words ringing in her oars that Hazel struggled out of the court and made her way back to her aunt’s. Miss Jarrow was waiting for her in the parlour, and as soon as Hazel entered the room she looked up with anxious terror-haunted eyes. “Tell me, dear, what happened.” Hazel gave a very dear account of the sordid scene ivliich she had just witnessed.

“ Thepolice clearly think that this man John Dickson committed the crime.” she said, refraining from glancing in her aunt’s direction. “He would give no account of his movements, Auntie, who ho was, or where he tame from. And he was found so dose to the place where the murder was committed.”

“But—but you say, my dear, that Mr Morton —met him outside my house. Ho couldn’t have been hero and in Thraxtou Woods at the same time.”

“ But, Auntie, he had plenty of time to walk from hero to Thraxtou Woods. The tact that Mr Morton arrived on the scene almost at the time that the crime was committed, after he had spent twenty minutes at the ‘Old Bell,’ is proof of that.” Miss Jarrow leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. Hazel continued to stare out of the window, nob daring to look at her aunt in her misery, guessing as she did the tragic, struggle that was going on in the other’s breast.

“I must do it. My deal', 1 must do it!”

Hazel turned quickly, and running to her aunt’s side put her arms about her. .Instinctively she knew that no-

thing she could say could comfort her aunt, but that she did derive some support from the touch of her hands and tho knowledge that she was near to her. . “ I must do it to save Jura, my clear. Ho was here-—here until half-past 9. I Hiust go to tho court to-morrow and tell them s<>- I must hear my shame publicly, hut I must do it, my dear. There’s no help for it. Whatever other crimes lie’s committed, lie’s innocent of this one.” She sat very still fora while, and then with a sigh withdrew her hands from before her face and feebly rose to her feet. . “ 1. must go out into the town, my dear. No, 1 won’t take yon with me. What I’ve got to do I must do alone. Thank you, ray dear, for all your goodness to me.” Although Hazel was consumed with a natural curiosity, she refrained from putting any questions to her aunt which would have elucidated the mystery, but, going upstairs until her, helped her to dress in the garments which were usually dedicated to Sundays. She had hardly been gone ten minutes when there was a knock at the front door, and Mary announced that Mr John Clode had called. As the old schoolmaster came into the parlour Hazel saw his eyes wander instantly to that outrageous enlarged portrait of Aunt Martha hanging on the wall. “ Tho girl told mo your aunt was out, my dear, but I thought 1 would wait, if"you won’t be bored by an old man’s society.” “ But you aren’t so old, Mr Clode. You can’t bo much older than Auntie, and she’s only just a little over fifty.” John Clode smiled at her as if this linking of his name with her aunt’s gave him tho most intense pleasure. “ Ay, but she has tho secret of keeping young, and I haven’t. I was horn an old fossil, and she —well, yon know what she is. Do you imagine that she will be very long, my dear?” “ No, I shouldn’t think so, Mr Clode. She had some business to do in the town, hut I’m expecting her back to tea. You must certainly stay, for she’d be very angry if she heard you’d called and gone away.” “ Would she, really?” John Clode replied, rubbing his hands together with pleasure. “I’m glad to hear you say that. And J particularly want to see her to ask her advice, for I’m in great trouble over this tragic business.” “ It’s a horrible business, 1 know, Mr Clode, but 1 don’t quite see how it specially affects yon.” The schoolmaster passed his hand across his forehead.

“No, perhaps you wouldn’t; hut, then, my dear, you don’t know all that’s happened. I don’t know whether I ought to toll you, but I was going to ask your aunt’s advice . . . and 1 suppose it must come out in the evidence.”

He turned and looked at Hazel. “ I’m troubled about that child, Dolly Frith. She was with Sir Arthur Morton last evening, and they tell mo that she’ll have to stand up in the witness box and publicly admit that she was. Already she's given evidence at the inquest. The tragedy of it is, my dear, that she really and truly believes that Sir Arthur loves her and intends to marry her.” Hazel said the only thing she could think of.

“ There’s no reason why lie shouldn’t marry her, after all, Mr Clode. Perhaps lie does love her.” The old schoolmaster shook his head. “ It’s not likely, my dear. I know I’m a romantic, dreamy sort of old fellow, as your aunt has often told me, but I can’t deceive myself with the notion that Sir Arthur Morton of Thraxton Hall will marry the child I’ve always regarded as my own. But here’s your aunt, and she’ll be able to tell me what to do.” For once, however. Aunt Martha had no advice to give John Clode. Indeed, after their first greeting she seemed to pay little attention to what he was saying, merely sitting opposite him and staring at him. Hazel, watching her, saw that occasionally her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears. “ Wc are all in the hands of Providence, John,” she said, when he had ended his story, “ and it’s little we can do for ourselves.” ;

With that piece of sententious wisdom Aunt Martha dismissed the case of Dolly Frith, and, though John Clode stayed to tea, she spoke to him little. It was only when at last he rose to go that she seemed to rouse herself from this unusual self-absorption. “ Good-bye. John. I don’t expect I shall say good-bye to you very often in this room after to-day.” He looked at her aghast. “What do you mean, Martha, what do you mean?” She turned away her head, laughing unsteadily. “Ah, well, you’ll know soon enough, John. Good-bye! We’ve been friends these many years, and it’s hard, breaking off old friendships.” When at last he had gone she said; down into her favourite chair and, burying her face in her handkerchief, cried for nearly a minute. Then she dried her eyes, sniffed once or twice, and, rising with an air of resolution, began to clear away tho tea-things. “What must he, must,” she remarked to Hazel. “ And now that I’ve made up my mind, the worst’s over.”

Again it was only with difficulty that Hazel could refrain from asking those questions to which her curiosity clamoured to find an answer, but, realising that her aunt must have good reason for keeping silent, she imitated her example. That night as she lay awake in bed, she could hear the sound of her aunt’s list slippers patrolling tho iioor of the adjoining room until tho early hours of tho morning, and occasionally she heard her sigh Jiko one in pain. At breakfast her aunt announced that she was giving the assistants a holiday and was closing tho shop for the day. “ It’s a thing I’ve never done since f took over the business, my dear, hut I think it’s best. I’ve got to ho in the court at Tl.”

Hazel stared at her in surprise. “Must you go, auntie?” “ Yes, my dear, I’m sorry to say I must. And if you’d conic with mo, I’d take it very kindly, for you’re a groat comfort to mo, and your just being near me somehow gives mo strength and support.” The scene outside the courthouse that morning when John Hickson was again to be brought up on remand, was similar to that of the previous day. Crowds blocked the entrance, and half the neighbourhood for miles round seemed to be trying to force their way in, but there was no need to solicit the assistance of one of the magistrates on tin's occasion, for a spruce young man, who appeared to be on tlie look-out, seeing Miss Jarrow. at once offered her his arm, and by the exercise of some mysterious authority, succeeded in getting her into the court. ’There she was received by a stout gentleman with a bald head and gold-rimmed glasses, whom Hazel recalled having seen in church. He rose to greet her from the solicitors’ table, and conducted her to a seat by his side.

“ Now, don’t distress yourself or lie nervous, my dear Miss Jarrow,” ho said. “ I’m hero to take everything out of your hands. Hi is is the niece you spoke of, 1 suppose? Delighted to meet you, Miss Keane. Will you tell your aunt not to distress herself?’’ Hazel gathered that this was Mr

Powell, her aunt’s solicitor, and with that clue she bad no difficulty in guessing the nature of the business that had occupied Miss Jarrow on the previous afternoon. As soon ns the court had assembled, and the prisoner had been placed in the dock, Mr Powell rose and addressed the' bench.

“Your Worships, I. have been instructed to appear on behalf of the unfortunate man who has been remanded on this charge of murder. I think it will save your Worships’ time, and the time of the police, if I am allowed to call a witness who is able to prove conclusively that the accused is innocent.”

Having received the permission of the chairman, the solicitor touched Miss Jarrow on the shoulder and escorted her part of the way to the witness box. She stood there very pale, a plump, resolute figure, who never once turned her eyes in the direction of the man in the. dock. Having been duly sworn, Mr Powell leaned forward and' addressed her. “ Yon know the accused, I believe. Miss Jarrow ” Hazel saw her aunt’s plump figure tighten upon the rail of the witness box. “ Ho is my brother,” she answered simnlv.

('To be continued.)