BETRAYAL OF JOHN FORDHAM.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIII, Issue 10112, 22 April 1896, Page 3

BETRAYAL OF JOHN FORDHAM.

f ' NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.' ""■

I ; BY B. L. FABJKOy, ' ' ' '■ ~ ' • Author of" No. 119, Great Porter Square," " Qrif, 1 ; "The March of Fate," "For the i . Defence," " Aaron tue Jew," etc. [Ail Rights Swerved,J - v i .•. ■,< ; CHAPTER XXVI. ■It is at this poinb of my story that I cannot entirely trust my memory. I am, however, sufficiently clear-minded as to the course of events up to the moment when, in a street, the name of which is "unknown to me, an attack was made upon my life. That & watch had been kept upon my movements, and that the attack was premeditated, I have no reason to doubt but it is almost) incredible that hatred could be so far-seeing and vindictive. As I have said, the snow was falling i heavily. It was the first time I bad been in Liverpool, and I was therefore not familiar with ! its thoroughfares So incle* ment was the weather, and so thickly did »the snow lay upon the ground, that I could not obtain a vehicle to take me to the. railway station, the two or three cabs which were available being snapped up before I could reach them* I had no alternative but to walk to' Lime-street. . There was ample time to get to the station, and I was proof against) much more serious obstacles than a snowstorm and a gale of wind. I was in joyous spirits at the prospect of soon embracing Ellen and my boy, and I walked along (after inquiring my way at the docks) ivith buoyant steps and a song on my lips. It may have been thab this preoccupation of mind mado me absentminded, or that I had been misdirected, for in the midst of my pleasant musings a doubt arose as to whether 1 was on hhe right road. 1 remember stopping by a lamp-post to look at my watch, which I had purchased before I had left Melbourne; I remember the time, five minutes to eleven, and .my feeling of satisfaction that I had nearly an hour to get to the station. But which was the right way? There was not a person-in sight of whom I could make inquiries, ajid at haphazard I turned down the street to which I have referred. It was a narrow, .ill-lighted street, and I did not notice whether the houses in it were places of business or private residences. . Suddenly, either from one of the houses or from some dark courtway, a mfcn rushed out and attacked me with such ' violence that had I been loss powerful than 'J am his first onslaught would have accomplished his purpose. As it was, I grappled with him at the moment of his attack, and a furious struggle began—a struggle for life. Maddened by ti:-i attempt to dash the cup of happiness from ray lips, I put fort Li all my strength. And here it is that memory fails > mo. The recollection .A the salient features of this desperr«tp encounter may doubtless be depended upon as correct, but I can go no fniiiiefin my recountal of the issue of it. One maddening thought, I know, was dominant throughout— thought that I was fighting for Ellen and Jove.

The struggle must hare lasted a considerable timo.

I could not see the face of my assailant, and it is my impression that he strove to avoid recognition ; nor did ho spoak. We struck at each other savagaly and in silence. From first to last, so far a?\l am aware, not a word passed between us. We swayed this way and that, each mail's hand at the other's throat; then I felt myself lifted from my feet— wrestling trick—and flung into the air. But I was up li,ke lightning, and as 1 seized him again 1 wa\i dimly conscious of tho sight of blood dropping on the snow—whether his blood or mine I cannot say. It seemed to be his purpose to drag me into a house, the door of which was open, and in this he succeeded. Grappling and raining blows upon each other in the dark passage, we fell " wn the stairs, and struggling to our feet without losing our hold, continued the contest; The only weapon I had about me was a fossicking knife in its sheath, and this I must havo drawn, as was proved by the result, though I am unable to state whether I drew it in the street or thji house. I cannot account for the fatal use I made of this weapon except upon the supposition that a weapon of some kind was being used against me, and that I was prompted by a eavago instinct of self-preservation, In such an emergency a man has no time to reflect upon the consequences of his acts; reason is lost, instinct rules. My aim was to eacapo into the street, his to" drag mo from it—and ho prevailed. At what period of the brutal conflict we gained the landing of the first floor, at what period we stumbled into a room, and when I dealt tho fatal stroke which gave me a frightful victory— this is hidden from me. Scores of time.- 1 since that night have I said to myself, " Let me think, lot me think !" rind vainly endeavourod to follow tho progress of tho awful struggle. In the moment of victory I must jiuvc received a blow which might have proved deadly, for darkness fell, upon me, and I sunk to the (•round in a state of unconsciousness.

Whan I came to my senses I • found myself in an apartment lighted up by two lamps and half-a-dozen candles, The oil in the lamps was almost exhausted, the candles were guttering down. Tiio scattered furnituro denoted the savage nature of the struggle in which I had been engaged. Chairs had been flung here and there,a large table was upset; had the candles or lamps been upon it the house would have been set on fire. Against the wall, in front of me, was a sideboard garnished with bottles and glasses, among them a syphon of minoral water. This was all I discerned in the first -few moments of returning consciousness. I put my hand to my face, and drawing it away found blood upon it; my othor hand and ray clothes were also stained with blood. .

This caused me to think of. my assailant, whose condition could have been scarcely worse than my own. What had become of him ? Why had he left me here without finishing his work? Was he so badly wounded that he had no ' strength to kill me? V

All was silenb in the house. Nob a sound of its being inhabited reached my ears. I must fly from it directly my own strength returned, thankful that I had come with life out of the desperate encounter; \ Gradually my sight grew clearer, and! rose to my feet. My throat was parched. I went to the sideboard, and poured out a: glass of mineral water, raised it to my lips. In the act of doing this, I turned mechanically, and brought into view that part of the room which I had not yet seen. The glass dropped from my trembling hand, tho water untasted. ''' ' -

On the floor, close to the opposite wall, lay the motionless form of a man. This was he, then, who had sought my life, this still form, struck down, by my own hand. What I could distinguish of his clothing proclaimed him to belong to the well-to-do classes; a silk hat and gloves, which I had nob previously observed, were on a small side table. A nameless horror stole upon me. With slow, stealthy steps I approached and knelt by his- side, un,conscious at that moment that I was kneeing in a pool of blood, There, gazing with terrified eyes upon him, I waited- for a sign [ which did not come. .Not a breath, not the vibration of a pulse. His arm lay .across his face. Tremblingly I lifted it aside, and let j it full with a cry of terror on my lips. 'The face I had unpovered was that, of my halfbrother Louis 1 Ho was dead, and I had killed him 1 Tho scar > on • his forehead was blood-red, and though I was guiltless of causing it, soemed to accuse me; blood was on his face, and clothes, there was a wound in his breast—his ' death' blowdelivered by me whom ha hated; by me who had hated him in life. ,-Ob, cruel fate that made me his murderer ! ; Y;* ,

The shook of the discovery, overwhelmed me.. I knew what his death meant for mo. It' did not dawn upon my 'miud ; it came in one sudden blasting flash. All . that had one before was light in comparison with this mortal blow, which, dealt by my own hand, destroyed beyond : redemption the newly-born hopes which had filled my hearb with gladness. My dream was over, Ellen and 1 were for ever parted.,. 0 1J >1 Oh, God! < f . '■ ■- ] I can hear again the echo of the cry f of anguish to which I gavo voluntary utter* • ance. . .... 1 •'• 'j Ob,' God 1 Oh, God I- 4 ]

' i Bub of what a«e appeal to Him ? Rather appeal to man* by whom 1 should be judged ; relate my .story to the earthly judge ' before whom I should be arraigned • hide nothing from first to last; expose the remorseless persecution, the vile cunning, the unspeakable degradation which had made my home a hell upon earth ; state how 1 had; only landed this night; how, passing through the street, I was suddenly attacked and had simply defended myself, as any- man would have done under similar circumstances—

Psha ! '' Who would believe such a tale ? It would be scouted with derision.

If an angel were to come down to testify to the truth of my story he would not be believed. • How, then, could I expect. to be believed - when human witnesses would testify to the hate I • bore the ban whose spirit. was . now before God's Judgment Seat? To hope that I could' break the | chain of evidence that 1 would be broughb against me was the hope of a madman. ; . One by one the candles had gone out; the room was now in serai-darknes». I stood in

thought. _ 1 , " ■ < Whoso sheddoth bis brother's blood—yes, but I was innocent of murderous design. Why, then, - should I declare myself a murderer and bring despair? upon Ellen, bring- ignominy and shame'upou her and our child? ' Life-long despair, life-long ignominy. Every man's finger would be pointed at her. In my child's ears would ring the words, "Your father is a murderer!" Better for him never to have been born.

I had not myself alone to think of, to act lor, Ellen could never now be my wife, the delights of home would never be mine. But for her, a lesser evil, though she would never realise it, was to be found in my concealment :of ' ray crime. Ib would be necessary for me to keep apart from her, for in her presence I should bo continually confronted by the temptation to betray myself, to make confession, and to do this would be to inflict upon her frightful suffering. Sweet and patient as she was, and implicit as was 'ier faith in me, the duplicities I should be compelled to practise in order to prevent any meeting between us, could not but injure me in her eyes. Setting , love aside— inconceivable hypothesis,' for I never loved her as I did in this despairing hour—honour and honest dealings called upon me to give her the name of wife. She would grieve that I did not make amends to her for the sacrifices she had made for me; but far better that I should sink in her esteem than inflict upon her the crushing horror of seeing me condemned for murder. For her sake, then, silence and secrecy*, if they could be compassed. There had been witnesses of the tragic incidents of the night. I was alone with the dead. 'h The-silence that reigned in the favoured my design of secret flight, If any' persons resided there they must Lave heard the sound of ' the stugglo. the stumblingon the stairs, the dashing into the room, the upsetting of the furniture. I would make sure, however, that the house was uninhabited.

The oil in the lamps was nearly exhausted; but I had matches in a box which Ellen had given me before my departure for Australia. .1 crept into the passage and listened above, below. No sound. Striking matches as I proceeded I went all over the house from ! basement to attic, and saw no signs of ; habitation. :; The rooms on the ground floor j,had been partially dismantled, and prosented the appearance of having been ufied for offices',' while those on the upper floors had served for . private residence, the most completely, furnished apartment) being that iu which Louis lay dead. I made my , investigations cautiously and quietly, and kept myself prepared for a possible attack. .'Once, when I was taking a match out of tho box it slipped from my hand, and though I groped for it in all isrectipna.l could not find it.. There was no time to waste ■, every moment that I'remained in the house was charged with danger, and I was so beset by terrors springing from the perturbed state of my mind that the flapping of a door, the wind tearing through the street, even the slightest sound which fell unexpectedly on my ears, set all my nerves quivering.

Tho storm had increased in violence. Through an uncurtained window on the top floor I saw the snow descending thick and fast, tho wind whirling it furiously onward and upward. A wild night, bub I had reason to be thankful for it. The conflict of the elements lessened my chances of boing caught red-handed. /

Standing by the uncurtained window I felt for my watch ; it had not occurred to me before to ascertain the time. The watch was.gone, the chain hung loose; but the pocket-book in which I kept my money was flak. Tho loss of my watch did not induce 'the suspicion that robbery was the motive for the attack; it must have been jerked out of my pocket in the course of the struggle. It was dangerous to leave it in the house; it was more dangerous to remain. I consoled myself with the thought that I might hare lost it in the street, and that ib would bo found by some person who would be satisfied to retain it without making inquiries. In any circumstances there was no name engraved on it to prove that I was the owner.

A faint scratching on the wainscot at this point of my reflections drove my heart into my mouth. So harmless a creature as a mouse was sufficient to inspire terror. I felt my way down to the fatal room, having no means of obtaining a light, It was quite dark now, and my footsteps were dogged by phantoms created by the fever of my blood. J saw the forms of struggling men, watched by glaring eyes and haunted by formless shadows; incidents of the struggle which remained in my memory repeated themselves with monstrous' exaggeration; ray brain teemed with startling images. I must get from this house of terrors quickly; in the white snow the phantoms would fade away.

These imaginings did nob cause me to lose sight of my purpose to avoid the conßeJuences of my unpremeditated crime. A ual process of thought was going on within me, one belonging to the real, the other to the unreal world. Reason cautioned me to arm myself against the chances of detection. Such as lay in the stains of blood on my hands and face. The snow would serve me here. From ray blood-bespattered clothes the stains could not be removed bo easily. I should not have reburned to the death-room had I not noticed an ulster coat thrown across a chair which, in the open air, would render me reasonably safe from observation. I groped for the chair, found it, thrust my arms into the ulster, and buttoned ib up.

All was still as death—and death itself, a mufllud figure, my father's son, lay outlined near the opposite wall. The deep darkness did not shut ib from my sight.

As I made ray way to tho street door my foot touched an object on the stairs. I stooped aiid picked up a watch, which I -put into my pocket with . a feeling of relief at a danger averted. " I had a little difficulty in opening the door, and when this was accomplished and I closed it behind me, I did not linger a moment. Every step I took from it added to my chance of safety. Turning into another * street I bathed my hands and face in snow, and removed all traces of the bloody conflict. The storm was now a gale; the wind tore and shrieked through the street, the snow, whirling furiously into my face,. almost blinded me, . Not a soul was about, and I walked on unobuorved, with no idea in which direction I was proceeding. Chance favoured mo, for ray haphazard wanderings led me to tho Lime-street station. I looked up at the clock—two minutes past four. I took a first-class single to Kiieton, it being safer, I thought, to travel first-class than third. 'My fingers were numbed, and I was rather slow, in picking up my change. .." You had better hurry, sir," said the clerk, "if you want to catch the 4.5." I hurried off, followed by a porter. "Any luggage, sir?" "No." ' ■ '"Whatclass, sir "First." " Not that way, sir," said the porter; the train goes from this platform." He showed me to the carriage, and thanked mo for the tip. 1 had barely time to take my seat before the train started. ; Being the only passenger in the carriage I could, without fear of interruption, de- ( liver' myself; up wholly to my reflections. Needless to say, they were of the most melancholy nature. The incidents in my life, which were in some way connected with my present position, rose to my memory with fatal clearness, and formed a chain "of • events which might have ■; been forged by a spiritual agency bent upon my destruction. ,< An inexorable • fatality had attended all my actions, and used them as weapons against myself. In every instance the circumstantial evidence was overwhelminK ; my own bare valueless word was the J - : \/: <] /V-

only :testimony'; l of. my innocence. . ; Additional support of this fatalistic theory was supplied in the course of my reflections. Taking out) the watch I picked .up on tho stairs, I discovered that it -was not 'my own. , There was an inscription on the case: "To Louis, from his Loving Mother." In the struggle Louis' watch had been torn from bis pocket as well as 'my own, and it was now my possession.',. yt ,'"T argued out my position to a possible and logical point. As thus: The body of a murdered, man having been found in tho house an hour or so after my departure, tho attention ,of the police , was immediately directed to the early morning trains for London. - At. four o'clock a gentleman, looking flurried and anxious, had presented himself at the ticket-office and paid a firstclass fare to Euston. . He was so agitated that it was with difficulty he gathered his change. He wore a long grey ulster coat and had no luggage—nob even a bag, a most unusual circumstance. ' He betrayed his ignorance of the platform from which the London train started by proceeding in a wrong direction, and was set right by the porter; presumably, therefore, he was a stranger in Liverpool. Telegrams were at once despatched to the stations en route, arid to Euston, to detain the passenger unless he could give a satisfactory account of himself. His, explanation affording grounds for suspicion, he was searched, and there was found upon him a watch with the inscription,'" To Louis, from his Loving By his own previous admission, his name was not liOuis. Questioned as to how he came into possession of the watch, lie gave no answer. There was also found upon his person a leather sheath, into which a gold-digger's knife with which the fatal wound had been inflicted exactly fitted.

When this damning piece of evidence presented itself to my mind, I felt for the knife. I had left it behind me. The sheath was empty. v , What now was left to me to do Leave matters to chance, and, in the event of the worst nob happening, protect myself by evory possible means, or give myself up to the authorities ? The deed I had done was beyond recall, and would ever stand as a black mark against me. If I could have harboured a hope of proving that it was done in self-defence I should not have hesitated, but this was impossible. For Ellen's sake I would adhere, as far and as long as lay in ray power, to my plan of silence and secrecy. Tortured as I was, I felt relieved when I came to this final decision, and I began to consider how to provide for my safety. To attempt to get rid of tha watch and the ulster coat would bo attended with danger, inasmuch a*! there were at present no other means oi ridding myself of them than by flinging them out of the window or leaving ithem in the carriago, and thus courting the attention 1 desired to avoid. Until a safer course presented itself I must therefore retain them. 1 v■' ') ' < ''"'Qiff;. But brain and,body were exhausted, and I could not continue my deliberation. Lifting the dividing arms between the seats I Bank upon the cushions, and closed ray eyes in sleep. (To be continued on Saturday next. Next Saturday the opening chapters of a new and powerful romance will be given. The story is entitled. " CURSED BY A FORTUNE," and is from the pen of that popular writer of fiction, Mr. George Manville Fknn.