BETRAYAL OF JOHN FORDHAM.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIII, Issue 10118, 29 April 1896, Page 3

BETRAYAL OF JOHN FORDHAM.

NOW WBSr PUBLISHED.

BY B. 1,. FARJKON, Author of "No. lie, Great Porter Square," " Grif,'

"The' March of Fate," "For the

Defence," " Aaron the Jew," etc

[ALL RIQHTB RESERVED.]

CHAPTER XXVIII. In siglib of this new danger I was speechless. I had no power to define its nature or to examine ib with a clear mind, but I could not resist the forboding thab a grievous burden was added to my pack of woe. There was an airy insolence, n lighthearted mockery in Maxwell's voice which betokened bbab he had reached a haven for which he bad been searching; and I knew from old experience thab this was a sign of evil.

" You don't appear to recognise me, dear John. Am Iso changed, or is ib that you have not recovered the shock of the loss we have sustained? Our poor Barbara ! Lost to us for ever. She had her faults, bub she has atoned for them, and is now in a, better world. Let that be our consolation. Find your voice, old man, and bid me welcome."

"You are not welcome," I said, endeavouring to keep command of myself. "You have brought misery enough upon me. No living link gives you now a place in my life."

"True; but dead links are stronger and more binding. How they drop away, those who are dear to u< 1 One burnt to death, another murdered in cold blood!"

Everything swam before me. The paper ruebled in my trembling hand; the shouts of the newsboy: " Horrible discovery in Liverpool! Horrible murder 1" fell upon my ears wibh a muffled sound, though be was bub a few yards away, charged with dread import. I knew that Maxwell continued to speak, bub I did not hear what he was saying till he shook me by the ehoulder.

" You are inattentive, dear John. The latest murder the newsboy is calling out fascinates you. I see you have bought anewspaper off him; they are selling like wildfire. AH over London they are screaming— 'Murder, murder; horrible murder! But you are shaking with cold. It will be better—and safer—to converse in your room, where we can read the news you have waited for eo long. How true is the old adage, 'Murder will out! . After you, brotber-in-law. The host takes the lead, you know. Tread softly, softly!" 'Me spoke with the air of one who holds the rann he is addressing in the hollow of hie band, but he was always a braggart. •In the midst of my terror and despair that thought came—this man Maxwell was always a braggart. I would hear what he had to say, and epeak myself as little as possible till he was done. Thus much made itself intelligible to my dazed senses. So I led the way into the house, and up the stairs to my room, Maxwell following at my heels. Safo within, fio turned the key gently in the lock. " We can't be too careful, John, when life and liberty are at stake. And you would have sent me away—me, your only friend, the one man in the world who can save you from the gallows ?" " You apeak in enigmas," I managed to Bay. . " Noneeneej, brother-in-law — nooeense. Drop the mask; you are not in the criminal court; the police are not yet on your track. Your voice is husky. Are you nfcill a teetotaller? Yes? Aiitonishing. Drink this glaee of water—it will clear your throatBut, as my host, you will allow me some, thing stronger. If I ring the bell the slavey will come, I suppose. I must trouble you for a few shillings, John. I am in my chronic state, dead broke as usual. Bad luck sticks to me, but I would not change places with you all that. My pooketa are empty, but my neck's safe. What does the paper say about it?" Be took it from my hand, and took also the purse I had thrown on the table. The servant had answered the bell, and was waiting in the passage. He opened the door, and giving her money sent her for a bottle of brandy. " Any other lodgers on this floor, John ? -No? That's fortunate. The lees risk of our being overheard. What narao do you go by here? i'our own? No? What then ? Tush! You can't conceal it from me j I have but to ask the slavey or the landlady. There is no need evep for that, except by way of confirmation. Shall we say Fletcher—John Flotchor! A great mistake. Will tell fatally against you if they run you down, or if you make me your enemy. You should have kept to Fordhain; it would have been a point in your favour. Poor Louis! He wasn't half a bad sorb of follow; bub you never loved him. You almost killed him when you were , boys together, and you only waited your opportunity to finish him. Well, it's done, and badly done. 1 don'b set myself up as a particularly moral ot virtuous party, but my hands are free from blood. Ah, there's the slavey with the liquor, and I'm perishing for a drink." I kept my eyes from him while he helped himself and drank ; my fear was lest some look in my eyee should betray me; my cue was to ascertain from his own lips the extent of hie knowledge, and how ho came by it. His thirsb assuaged he re-locked the door, and drew a chair close to that in which I was sitting at the table. Then he spread the newspaper upon the table, bo that the revelation I dreaded could be read by both at the same time. " Shall I read it aloud, John ?" "No,"

" Aβ you pleaee." We benb our heads over the paper, and this is what I read. I copy it from the cutting I have kept by me since that night:

'HORRIBLE DISCOVERY IN LIVER-

POOL."

"A horrible discovery was made last night in an empty bouse in Rye-street, Liverpool. A couple of years ago the house was taken on lease by a corn merchant, who used the lower floors for storage, and let the upper floors for residence. Five or six months afterwards the tenants left, the reason being that they considered the building unsafe. Then tho merchant furnished felio firet floor, and occasionally slept there. Ab the end of the year he had no farther occasion for ib, and ho gave the keys to a bouse agent, with instructions to lob tbe whole or part of the house to the best advantage, in order that he might) be relieved of some portion of the rent, for which ho was responsible. For eleven months it remained uninhabited, and then a.gentleman giving tho name of Mollison offered to take it for u month to see if ib would suib him to become a permanent tenant/. The agenb closed with the offer; it month's renb was paid in advance, and the keys delivered over. It may be mentioned that Mr. Mollison was a stranger to the agent, who saw him only once, the arrangement being made at the firsb interview between them. A London reference was given, and the agenb received a reply in due course which he considered satisfactory. Meanwhile, although the month's rent had been paid, the houso seemed to remain uninhabited, no persons being seon to enter or issue from it, but there ie some kind of circumstantial evidence that) on one or more occasions the new tenant was there, either alone or with companions, there being a back entrance in a blind alley which after suaseb was practically deserted. Cundlesandlamps have certainly been burnt in the room on the first floor facing the front entrance, bub these were not seen from the streob for the reason that wall-fitting shutters masked the windows, and that over the shutters hung heavy tapestry curtains. " For some time past the Liverpool police have been seeking a due towards tho discovery of a gang of coiners who were supposed to be carrying on their unlawful occupation in that city, and two or three days ago their attention was directed to this house, which, from ita situation and circumstances, offered facilities for these breakers of the law. A olose watch was set upon the front and back entrances, bub no one was observed to enter the premises. There being a likelihood thab coiners' implements, if nob the coiners themselves, ratelib be found in the bouse, ib was decided to break into it last night. This wae done at midnight, but no implements of any kind were found. The efforts of the police, however, were not unrewarded, and a horrible djjscotery was made. In the passage from the street door to the first flight of stairs traces were seen of some frightful struggle having taken plftCQ there,

Proceeding upstairs were farther traces of the struggle, and upon the floor of the fired floor front room—the shutters of which were closed and the curtains drawn across—was

discovered the body of a man who had been ruthlessly murdered. Ib was not a quite recanb murder; ab least a fortnight musb have passed between its perpetration and discovery. The room was in great disorder. The furniture was thrown in all directions, and proved the desperate nature of the struggle. Upon the-face of the victim a heavy table had fallen or been dashed, with the evident intention of rendering the features unrecognisable. " That this object was accomplished will nod, perhaps, increase the mystery which surrounds the affair, for the clothes ot the murdered man should provide means of identification. No cards or documents of any kind were found upon the body. In one of the pockets was an empty purse, A watch chain was found on the floor, but no watch. The chain appeared to have been torn away, and the absence of watch, money, and jewellery points to robbery. Death was caused by a stab in the heart, but a careful search through the house failed in the discovery of tho weapon. The house agent) stated that the deceased is nob the man to whom the place was let, of whom he has furnished a description to the police, but he seems not to be confident as to its correctness. From the stale remains of food and the lees of liquor at the bottom of glasses and bottles in the apartment it is presumed thab the murder was committed thirteen or fourteen days ago, probably on the night of the snowstorm which did so much damage in the city. The police are busy investigating the horrible affair, which is ab present enveloped in mystery. A subsequent additional statement has been made by the house agent, who says, thoughetill speaking with uncertainty, that) there are points of resemblance in the body to the man to whom the house was let,"

Maxwell finished the reading of bhis, to me, fatal news, before I had, and when I looked up from the paper he was smoking one of my cigars, to which he had helped himself from my cigar case. What) now remained was to hear from him how he had learned of my connection with the murder. Hβ was sitting with folded anna, a glass of liquor before him, puffing ab the cigar, and with hie'eyes fixed on my face. " Rather startling, John," were hie first words.

I returned hie-gaze without answering, and so we sat for several minutes', staring at each other. At length he spoke again. "I am waiting, John." "For what!" I asked. My voice was strange to me; it was as if another man had spoken. " Well, I thought you would like to make some comment on this newspaper report of the discovery of the crime. Ido not wish you to incriminate yourself. No need for that. Any fool, looking at you now, would jump at the right conclusion. VVe know who the murdered man is; the police don't, and may never discover. Ib depends upon me."

" Upon you ?" "Upon me. I hold the threads, and the evidence upon which you would be convicted. I make a shrewd guess that, there is other evidence in your possession which would bring tho guilt home to you." He rose, and went into ray bedroom; I followed his movements with my eyes, and made no effort to arresb them. Presently he returned. "I have taken the liberty to look over your clothing. There is no mistake about one article—Louis' ulster. Why do you keep it by you ? Man alive, it is fatal—fatal!" "How doyou know it is bin ulster?" " Well, it may not be, but the last time I saw the poor fellow—let me see, it was about five weeks ago, here in London—he wore one suspiciously like it. Of course, it is easy of proof. Do you deny it) was his?" "Ideny nothing ; I admit nobhing." " Politic, bub weak and useless. I will make another shrewd guess. The missing watch—Louis' watch. A search warrant would probably find it on your person or in these rooms. -It may be difficulb to identify unmarked clothing—l beg your pardon, you were about to speak."

(To be continued on Saturday next.