THE HANGMAN’S NOOSE

Evening Star, Issue 20995, 8 January 1932, Page 3

THE HANGMAN’S NOOSE

By JOHN L. CARTER,

[Ale Rights Reserved.]

CHAPTER XIV. The Parting. The meeting between Pamela and Hubert that evening was a strained and painful one. Of _ course Pamela bad been expecting him, and he arrived in time to dine, there was the w*hite-haired old Colonel, and his plain, sweet-looking wile, little Rosalie, and Pamela herself. It was not a cheery meal, and Hubert was glad when Pamela led him away to her own little sitting room. ’ When once they were behind the closed door of Pamela’s artistic, almost severe, grey room, she lapsed from her usual proud bearing, and impulsively shot out her round, soft arms, and tightly clasped his neck. “Dearest,” she whispered tenderly, gazing into his eyes, her lips, her whole self, one great appeal, J|you will do something to please me? ” He would have kissed her, but she seemed to hold him away. He had hoped to comfort her into forgetfulness, but her fears were not to be lulled. It had been a terrifying incident, her conversation with Wintersley, and she felt that she must first tell Hubert all she feared. Her tense manner made him feel uneasy. He bad been only too ready to let himself hope after -receiving Wintersley V assurances. He felt he could not leave England when he wanted so much to stay with Pamela. Was it only a fool’s paradise after all? “ It is about Wintersley,” she began. “ I tried to draw him out this afternoon—but, I am 'afraid, ho spoke too fairly for, my liking.” She wanted to tell Hubert that Wintersley’s only reason for showing him any consideration was that he might impress her favourably. Hubert gave a snort. “ Wintersley I ” he said contemptuously, “You are as bad as Johnson. Wintersley is only a craven, anxious for his own skin. His only reason for wishing to fix the blame on me was that he might save himself the trouble of explaining away a quarrel he had had with his cousin. I tell you the fellow is a weak, self-centred craven, and now that he feels he will bo safe he can give up his efforts against me. Why not? He’s not going to make enemies just from idleness. There is no reason on earth why he should desire ray arrest. He knows that Johnson can clear Stephen | and him when I am gone.” He had led her to the corner settle and was absently playing with her soft fingers. ■ Pamela was not convinced —be did not known what she did. It would not be an easy knowledge to confess. In her agitation she pulled her hand away and locked it in her other one.

“That might have been true enough this morning, but the case is different now. We have another factor to take into the reckoning.” She could not put it into words, and she now reached out and took bis hand in hers. If only he could understand without her having to say it! He lifted her hand and pressed the palm . .against his cheek, while he watched her, lovingly'with abstracted, moody eyes. He was far away from Wintersley, and the hangman’s noose had no terror for him just then. He was watching her eyes, and the fear and love in them soothed him. It seemed wonderful to him to have his Pamela, his other life, more anxious for his safety than he was himself. But, that was a selfish thought I And so he put the hand he had been holding, on his breast, and drew her close. She could not resist the caress, but she turned away her face, with a frightened look in her eyes. She felt that they, had no time for love, just then; afraid, that his great, strong, assured nature would end in lulling her only too willing heart into a false sense of security and peace. “ Oh, please—Hubert—there is no time.” But in his headstrong conviction that he could quickly soothe her into happiness he still held her, so that seeing now useless it was, and _ how altogether foreign to her real wishes, she turned her face to his and let him kiss her. ' “ Hubert, I want you to do as I advise, no matter what you think,” she said at length. “ I want you to go away to-ngiht. I don’t trust Wintersley. Why does he want you to stay?” She looked scornfully triumphant, but the point was far from conclusive to Hubert. . “ Obviously to give me time to clear things up, and so that I can see something of you before I go.” Pamela thoughtfully put her hands together and pressed them down on her lap. “ Hubert,” she said solemnly. “ You and I don’t have secrets, do we? Well; I’m 1 going to tell you something. Listen.” She paused for her words, clasping her hands over her knee. Then she took his hand again and kept it pressed between her own hands in her lap. “ Wintersley is not a good man. Have you ever read about David and Uriah? Well, Wintersley intends to be the David and you the Uriah, He means to send you to your death.” Hubert started to his feet, but she kept tight hold of his fingers. She was afraid to let go. He frowned down and met her pleading eyes. ; “The deuce, yes!” was all he said. He had much to think of, though. He could see Wintersley’s game now. Suddenly ho pulled his hand from hers and stood with clenched fists. It was Wintersley he had in mind, not Pamela.’

“ He’s not dared to say anything, has he?’,’ he demanded. Pamela was not afraid now. She looked up at her strong man and worshipped him. It warmed her heart to see his jealous wrath. Pamela was on fire, too. “ No, he’s too clever for that, but 1 read between the lines. All he seemed to desire on earth was to help you, and if he did think of me at all it would seem that it was with the one idea of protecting me until you should come again to claim me.” Hubert felt relieved, yet he knew that he had no occasion for feeling secure. He was watching Pamela as she sat there in her dark, well-fitting dress, her lissom figure thrown up by the shaded light against the flowered chintz of the settle. Her fear was gone. In certain moods a woman will back her man against an army. Then, growing more calm, she rose and stood near him. “ Hubert, I love you. dear,” she said, and he, with a sigh, came back from visions of brandished cudgels and blood-soaked, grassy glades. He gathered her tenderly in his arms. “ Yes, I must go to-night, Pam. 1 must live!”- He was afraid of his

Author of ‘Peggy the Aeronaut,’ ‘The Pilgrimage of Delilah,’ etc. .

enemy, recognising a piind as cunning and indomitable as his own. But his mind was troubled. He was forcing himself back to civilisation—to the necessity of leaving his woman in the enemy’s hands. She seemed to understand. “ Never fear for me for a moment, dear. I shall always be yours. Even if you die.” He clutched her more fiercely then. His whole being rebelled at the thought. His right hand felt light and strong, and was tightly clenched. It might have held something heavy and sharp, from the intoxicated feeling it gav© him. His blood was ether, and he could have done nothing just then. “ I shall go in the morning,” he said. , r , , “ No, to-night. You must go tonight,” she insisted. “ Yes, to-night,” he agreed. And then they said goodbye once again, and he went out into the smoking fog, CHAPTER XV.. 'HUBERT DEAD. When Rosalie woke on the morning after Hubert and Pamela had said “ good-bye,” the first thing she thought of was how she could comfort Pamela. Now she knew that Stephen would shortly be released a load had fallen from her heart. They were still unreconciled, but she smiled confidently as she thought of how soon she would make him forgive and understand. The fog of the preceding day had cleared, and a wintry sun was throwing on the wall of her dressing room a shimmering likeness of the window curtains. The air was dry and crisp, and she felt delight in being alive, in anticipating her reunion with Stephen. For all that, she felt for Pamela, whose lover had gone, even he could not yet say wht.e. ■ . , . „ She finished her dressing hurriedly, anxious to go and chat with Pamela, to keep her from brooding. She would draw a picture of some far-away, idyllic spot, to which Hubert would one day take her. She found, however, when she reached Pamela’s room, that she was still asleep. She wondered how many hours of that night Pamela had watched in fear and silence before sleep came. She would leave her to sleep on. Sleep was a mercy at such a time. And so she tripped off down the stairs glowing with hope—hope for Pamela as well as for hdrself. Her gladness was quickly turned into mourning when she got to the breakfast room, for she found Mrs Temple in tears, and the Colonel trying to soothe her. “ Oh, what is it, Mrs Temple ?”_ she said tremulously. She felt that 1 if it was anything about Stephen she couldn’t bear to hear it, and yet she must know. But Mrs Temple seemed hardly to hear, and further bewildered Rosalie by moaning “My poor Pamela!” . .At once Rosalie felt relieved. It was nothing to do with Stephen, at any rate. She could not help feeling relieved. Then the Colonel came to Rosalie with the morning paper in his hand, and was going to point out a paragraph, when he let the paper f.-.1l to his side. “ Better tell her,” he muttered. “ Oh, what is it?” cried Rosalie in great alarm. “ It’s about Hubert,” said he, furtively looking at the door. “He is gone, too.” “ What! To prison?” “ No, lassie; they’ve killed him.” “Killed him? Killed Hubert?” said she, in a strangely quiet voice. “ Oh, Pamela! My poor Pamela!” Then she turned, at a sudden thought. “ She doesn’t know,” she said in an awed whisper. “Who will tell her?” But no one replied. Then for a second she let herself hope. “ But are you sure it is true?” she added, and she took the paper from him. There it was plain enough: “Following upon the murder of Sir Ambrose Gervais, we have to report the murder of his colleague, Dr Hubert Braid, Mr Roger Wintersley (a cousin of the late Sir Ambrose Gervais) was the first to discover the body. He had been transacting business in the , city, and did not reach Harley street until 10 o’clock. He let himself in at the front door, and on entering the study stumbled over what proved to be the body of Dr Braid. Death had been caused by heavy blows, about the head, which rendered tho face almost unrecognisable. As in the previous tragedy, robbery was not the object of the murderer, a gold watch, besides money, being still in the pockets. In this case also a card was found pinned to the coat, bearing the words ‘ Death to Vivisectors.’ In the circumstances the detention of Captain Braid is no longer justifiable, since it is obvious that the crime for which he is now in prison was done by the same hand as was the murder or Dr Braid. His immediate relea > may therefore he confidently expected. There can be no doubt that these outrages are the work of some fanatical anti-vivisector, whose madness would seem to be entirely without method, for it is well known that Dr Braid was firmly opposed to vivisection. Needless to say, Harley street is in a state of alarm. It appears that the murderer gained access to the house by breaking a window on the ground floor at the rear of the house, aided by the excessively heavy fog which enveloped London last night.” She could not read further. “ Pamela must not see the paper,” she said. “ How shall we tell her?” “ I must do that,” said Colonel Temple. His hand was resting tenderly on his wife’s head as he stood by her chair. Colonel Temple was suffering, too. He had no son of his own, and Hubert Braid had grown info his heart. He had never guessed until now how much he thought of him. “ No; I must tell her,” moaned Mrs Temple. “It couldn’t bo anyone else. My little baby! My little baby Pam!” Already she was drying her eyes. Old Temple would have preferred that she had waited, but he saw that her mind was made up, so he helped her to her feet. Mrs Temple refused his arm. She felt that she must gain her self-posses-sion in readiness for her task. She must lean on no one, but bo strong for her daughter’s sake. For all that, ho went with her up the stairs, and when she had passed into P ola’s room ami softly closed the doe- he bowed bis head for a moment in mute appeal to the God who watches over mothers in their anguish.

When ho returned to the breakfast room he found Rosalie standing with a telegram in her hand. Her expression of radiant happiness flickered away at his entrance. She did not like to show the telegram to him. It would almost seem to mock at him and his bereaved child. Still, she gave it to him. It was better that he should know. It contained a brief .statement from the police to the effect that Stephen .would be released that afternoon. A servant had brought it from the flat. “ ‘ln the midst of life wo are in death,’ ” quoted old man bitterly. “ Life is a sway polo—up and down, up and down. But don’t think^ I grudge you your happiness, my dear.” It was not*long after this that Mrs Temple, looking very haggard, came in. In reply to their anxious glances she slowly shook her head. “ I wonder if you would go to her, Rosalie? She hasn’t spoken yet. She lies there without moving. It seems as though her brain had stopped working.” ' Rosalie poured out a cup of tea which she meant to induce Pamela to drink. They had none of them touched the breakfast which was laid ready. Rosalie’s heart seemed to beat in her throat as she paused outside the bedroom door. What could she say ? How could such a blow bo lightened? What hollow things were sympathy and kindliness at such a time! Then she went in, and putting the cup of tea down on a little table she sat on the edge of the bed .and took Pamela’s hand. Pamela was still dry-eyed—her face was almost expressionless, and her eyes, which were wide open, were staring vacantly at the wall. “Pamela, dearest,” she said at last. But Pamela made no reply. Rosalie looked helplessly about her. Then she hesitatingly took up the cup of tea. “I’ve brought you some tea, Pamela.” Her voice quavered, and she felt afraid, and not at all hopeful. She got an answer this time. “Leave me alone, dear,” came in a still voice from the motionless figure on the bed, and then Rosalie hastily set down the cup and took Pamela’s hand again, and she sat thus in silence until Mrs Temple came to her half an hour later. Pamela continued in this unresponsive state throughout the day. It frightened her mother that the tears refused to come; and during most of that day she sat beside her bed, waiting and hoping, but always disappointed. The news of Hubert’s murder had robbed Pamela of all mental and bodily power. She had seen her mother’s distracted face come at short intervals to the bedside to look at her, but had been able to say nothing to ease her. It seemed as though her heart, which had been so full of Hubert, had completely collapsed, now that he was gone. During the afternoon she revived slightly, and she was glad to be able to give her mother a weary little smile. She drank the _ tea which she had brought, and, raising her head on her arm, she looked about her with a tired, bewildered .expression, and then sank back again on the pillow. Dusk was falling, and Mrs Temple brought in a shaded lamp, but, although it had been her hope that Pamela might rouse herself a little, she found her apparently fast asleep. So she leaned over her and tenderly kissed her brow, and stole from the room. The kiss roused Pamela. She was feeling the stimulation of the- tea. Instantly her mind flew back to the time when her mother had told the news. What was it her mother had said? Sho started up in bed. Something about-Hubert? He wanted her ! -He was in trouble! And sho began feverishly to put on her clothes. What could be the matter? He must be ill! Perhaps he had been knocked down in the street! She felt certain he could not be very ill, or they would have wakened her before. How could she sleep while he was wanting her? “ I be long, Hubert, dear. Oh, I’m coming! Just this boot-now, and my hat and coat. I won’t ( be long darling. Of course you are wanting me.” And then she got to the door and hurried down the stairs. She mot no one. Her mother was trying to rest m her own room, and the servants had orders to go to and fro as seldom ns necessary. Pamela opened the outer door, and a cold gust of wind made her shiver, and there was a sound of slamming doors in the house. Then, as she began to descend the steps, the loud cry of a newsboy was borne to her ears: “ ’Orrible murder pf Dr Braid. Further developments.” The cry struck deep into Pamela’s brain, piercing the stupor which had enveloped her. It brought back the words of her mother, which had until now robbed her of consciousness. Hubert was dead! And she collapsed in a heap on the steps. CHAPTER XVI. A FAIR OF HOOTS. Colonel Temple had many things to occupy his thoughts that day. Hi the first place there was Pamela, stricken down, in one moment, from perfect consciousness into a lethargy that was terrible in its awful stillness. He had at once sent for a doctor, who had gravely shaken his head and terrified the poor old colonel. Indeed, he held out little hope. In these cases _ it was only rarely that the patient rallied. On the colonel suggesting a consultation with a specialist, the doctor had shaken his head more gravely than ever. The colonel felt that he must go to No. 3a Harley street, and as soon as lunch was over he set out. Arrived at the house, he asked for Johnson, and full of misgivings the Irishman invited the colonel into his own private room. “ Now, Johnson, what can you tell me of last night?” he began. “Well, sir, I can say nothing, because I only came in an hour after all was over. You see, Mr Wintersley found it out, and he was the only one there. He is the only man that knows anything at all.” Johnson was fidgeting with his hands, and it was plain to the colonel that he was withholding something. “ Johnson,” he said sternly. “ This is a serious matter. If there is anything that you know and are keeping back, I advise you to confess it at once.” Johnson certainly was uneasy, but it did not seem to be a guilty uneasiness. “If 1 told you something, sir, would you promise not to breathe a word to anyone until we had all our proofs?” The colonel promised. “Not to Mr Winstersley?” Johnson added. Tbo colonel impatiently gave the required assurance. “ Well, then, this morning I found a pair of Mr Wintersley’s boots all red with blood. I had just picked them up when he came in and found me. It wasn’t the pair lie was ■wearing when bo camo in last night.” “But, Johnson, you are not going to make out that Mr Wintersley committed the crime? His hoots could not very well bo otherwise alter stumbling up against the body. This is a ’-cry wild charge you are making.” Johnson gave him a dubious look. “But, sir, I might Jiavo thought as you do, but bo gave a curse and

snatched them out of my hand. Then he faced mo and looked me up and down, and gave me a fiver not to mention tbo boots to the police. I took the money, because I wan afraid of what ho would do. I may be only a servant, sir, but I knew what that frightened look in his eyes meant.” But the colonel attached no importance to the story. “There is nothing suspicious in bis changing his boots. And perhaps in his unnerved state he feared that ho might be suspected bad you taken your tale to the police. No doubt he would laugh at his own fears now. You see, ho had no reason to kill Dr Braid.” But Johnson only shook his head. He felt that the colonel ought to have seen that look of Wintersley’s. He now felt sorry that lie had mentioned the incident.

The colonel turned away up the stairs to the room where Hubert’s body had been found, and he spent some time walking with the policeman in charge waiting for Wintersley’s return. At last that handsome fellow came. The colonel met him in the hall. The policeman had pointed him out to the colonel as ho crossed the road.

“ Mr Wintersley, I believe?” he said, with outstretched “My name is Colonel Temple. Dr Braid was to have been my son-in-law." Wintersley quickly weighed up the colonel, and was pleased with the result. He was evidently one of those impulsive, hot-headed, warm-hearted men of the “ I believe a man honest until I prove him a rogue ” type, and he felt that hero was a valuable ally if only he played carefully. Wintersley led him up the stairs, and on the way asked with respectful solicitude after Pamela. The colonel told him of her prostration, and Wintersley tactfully murmured a few comforting words without seeming to presume. He made the colonel take the easy armchair while he mixed him whisky and soda, and under the influence of the optimistic, youthful-looking Wintersley the old man expanded, and, indeed, felt some of his awful load of trouble fall away. He was getting old, was tbo colonel, and it is the nature or old age to lean upon youth. And unconsciously he was allowing the seductive Wintersley to take his care and shoulder it himself. Wintersley had, the moment they met, set out upon this course. To bring the old colonel to regard him as his right-hand man in this trouble would be a certain step towards winning Pamela. Ho had had suddenly to change his plans after the unfortunate ocurrence of the previous night, but still he felt certain that all had happened for the best. The colonel had told himself that ho would approach the acquaintance with an open mind. The tale of Johnson’s had stuck, but every moment was giving it the construction which he had put upon it at first. This man was no murderer! “What makes Hubert’s death the more painful to me,” said Wintersley (the colonel observed with some satisfaction that his new friend used Hubert’s Christian name), “is that yesterday I was, more than once, suspicious of him. Ho seemed to know more a’jout my cousin’s death than he admitted, and I began to put two and two together until 1 had a very fair case against him,” He sighed regretfully. “This new development shows how greatly I was mistaken. One should never judge by appearances. You see, I took his natural horror and his nervousness for signs of guilt. Once befin to suspect a man, and you can soon nd of things to strengthen one’s suspicions.” Seeing his new friend so greatly cut up about it, the colonel hastened to comfort him. It was only natural that lie should look everywhere and anywhere to find his cousin’s murderer. When Wintersley had at last, with evident relief, allowed the colonel to make these excuses for him, the old man suggested that they might do

worse than join forces to track down the man who had so deeply wronged tlitoi both.

Wintersley could hardly restrain his delight. This meant that he would be constantly in and out of The Larches. It was an ideal proposal. And so they talked, and as the time drew on the colonel felt more than ever how much he relied on this strong, virile man. At last he asked him to take pity on a much-buffeted old man and come home with him to dinner. He could not bear the idea of dining in solitary misery, Wintersley put his hand gently on the old man’s arm.

“ Come, colonel,” he said, with ready sympathy. “Remember the old saying, ‘lt is always darkest before dawn.’ ” It was not quite apt, but the colonel was ndt asking for epigram, but sympathy, and, since it served, Wintersley was satisfied, too. When they reached- The Larches, the nurse, who had arrived some time earlier, told the colonel that his wife had gone to bed, quite exhausted, and was now asleep. Miss Temple was sleeping, too. But she mentioned nothing of their finding Pamela on the outer steps, or of Mrs Temple’s shock on finding her there. She thought he had had quite as much trouble as he could bear that day. At dinner the two men discussed their plans, and at last the colonel, who had been unable to get Johnson quite out of his mind, brought the matter up. He had promised the man to tell his friend nothing of the boots. Well, he would r t do so, but that did not prevent him discussing Johnson. “You really feel convinced that these murders are genuine fanatical attacks by anti-vivisectors, then?” he asked. Wintersley gave him a sharp look, but the old man’s grief-stricken face was an open book. “Undoubtedly; there can be no other solution. I well remember the correspondence on the matter iri the ‘ Daily Flame,’ and it seemed to mo then that there was more in the new league than the doctors suspected. You see, even the police have no doubt about it or they would not have released the captain.” The colonel did not care to say anything of his suspicions of Johnson. This clear-minded fellow might despise him. “What do you think of Johnson?” he asked hesitatingly, without looking up. Wintersley started. He had spent many anxious moments that day, regretting that bribe to Johnson. He told himself thit ho had lost his head at the moment.

“ Have you had a talk with Johnson?” he said, tentatively. The old man flushed slightly. “ Only a few words,” he said quickly. “He seemed to me to bo rather flurried, perhaps. That was all.” But soon after .that Wintersley said that he had just remembered that he had an engagement with the man who had the case in hand—in the comfort of his host’s company be had forgotten all about it. So the colonel reluctantly let him go. (To be continued.)