THE SCALES OF JUSTICE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIII, Issue 13325, 3 November 1906, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE SCALES OF JUSTICE.

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.]

BY FRED. M. WHITE. AuU-or of "The Nether Millstone, "The Corner House." " The Slave of Silence," " Craven Fortune." etc., etc. [.COPYRIGHT.] CHAPTER XVIII. » THE SCENT OF DANGER. There lay the great Mercedes, as if it had broken down and been abandoned for the present. But there was no sign, so far as Gilbert could see, of anything wrong. Was it possible that these men were after ho good here, that they had some evil scheme on foot? But predatory characters, as a rule, do not parade the country in motor-cars that cost a couple of thousand pounds. There must be some better 'explanation than that. Nevertheless the car seemed to be all right, and had been hidden by men who knew the wood better than they pretender. Still, it was no business of Gilbert's. There was the pony grazing by the roadside. Gilbert fouilfi the end of the road and led the docile little beast into the spinney. It was not far to the place where Marston lay, but the ground had begun to be rough", and Gilbert decided to tie up the pony here and carry the poacher to it. He fastened the.animal to a tree, and placed the lantern by the side, taking care to push the dark slide in again. There seemed nothing to fear now, so Gilbert pushed on boldly. Then suddenly a figure gripped him by the throat; Gilbert was carried fiercely backwards, and only a treestem saved him from complete collapse. So utterly surprised was lie, he showed no fight for a minute. But he knew that his assailant was big and .strong and powerful, and that the clutch on his throat was murderous in its intensity. "So I've got a hold of you," a hissing voice said. " You thought to trap me here like that. It was a pretty scheme of yours, but 1 saw through it. I'll kill you before the other one comes up, and then I'll kill him, too." Gilbert said nothing; he was keeping his strength for a final effort. He was fatweaker than he had imagined, and he would need all his strength presently. 'That the man meant to kill him he did not doubt. He would have tried to explain the mistake but for two things,the grip on his throat choked the words in the utterance, and he was wondering in a dazed way where he had heard that voice before. It came to him like an inspiration, like the illumination of danger in a lightning flash. The mysterious doctor; the man on board the steamer who had schemed to get Gilbert into all the trouble that had fallen upon him! He recognised the voice distinctly; he. knew his murderous foe to be Dr. Beard, under whose roof he had passed the night before. The fact that Beard had mistaken him for somebody else did not lessen the danger. Even if Beard knew that he was attacking the wrong man he would want to see the face of his foe. : That would be equally fatal. To go back to Grevstone was worse than death itself. And that would be the upshot of the discovery of his identity. There was nothing for it but to struggle and fight on to the end. in the faint hope that some stroke of fortune would intervene in favour of the weaker man. Not that there was much chance of anything of the sort. Gilbert thought bitterly" Cruel Fate was dogging his footsteps again, and everything was going against him. The world began to dance and reel before Ins eyes: there were stars everywhere. For Beard's grip on the throat of his foe was like a vice: there was no shadow of doubt as to his intention. Just for a moment Gilbert managed to shift that grip and call for heln. It was possible that Marston mjght come to his assistance.

The shout was not uttered in vain. Quick as a hate as to his hearing, Marston had detected the sounds of a .struggle. When the cry for help came he realised that his new ally was in trouble. A stray keeper, probably. With a great effort, Marston managed to drag himself along the ground in the direction of the fray. Long .nights in the darkness had given him eyes like a cat's. He came sufficiently near to see what was taking place. He could make out the powerful form of Bernard Beard and the slender figure of Gilbert Doyle. He had an idea, that the doctor was unconscious of his opponent's identity. But Marston did not wait to discuss the point. Taking a thick stick from the sodden moss, he crept behind Beard, and dealt him a heavy blow on the head. The big man reeled, and as his grip relaxed Gilbert wriggled under his arm and darted into the bushes. The latter had not lost his nerve. He did not go far. for lie felt the thick bushes and the darkness made him as safe as if he were a mile away. Besides, he wanted to await developments, and, in any case, could not abandon Marston. Beard fell with a heavy grunt, and held his aching head in both hands. For a moment he could not realise what had happened. Marston's low chuckle brought him 10 his senses. He staggered to his feet with a savage growl. "Did you hit me?" he asked. " Was it you who stopped me just now when" " Of course, it was." Marston said coolly. " I couldn't sit there and watch murder done. I. don't mind dying—in fact. 1 shall be glad to die when the time comes—but I have the greatest possible objection to capital punishment, and you ought to be much obliged to me for saving you from the worst crime." " Whereas I look upon you as a meddlesome fool!" Beard snarled. "Do you know who that fellow was? He was one of the Virginians. They lured me here by one of the most wickedly ingenious plots ever hatched in the brain of an arch-scoundrel. But that did not deceive me. 1 laid my plans to get the better of them. And when they separated I followed one of them, with the' result that you saw. And now your foolish meddling— "Nothing of the kind," Marston interrupted curtly. " You have barked up the wrong tree, as' they say in America. You've got Vinginians on the brain. It was no foreigner you tried to choke to death, but a friend of mine, who came to take me home. I'm suffering from a pretty bad attack now, and I had to send for assistance. Can't you hear aiv pony close by''" Beard growled something about being mistaken. So far the conversation conveyed little to Doyle, who sat listening in the bushes. The only point he could make out was that Beard seemed to know something about the Americans and the motor-car; or why did he speak of Virginians? There seemed to be a connection-between the two. , "Well, I'm sorry," Beard muttered. "I don't want a murder on my conscience if T can help it: and I certainly took your friend for one of those two. I tell you, they are here; I have sure information on the,point. I was so startled by it that I had to put off a little surprise I had prepared for the authorities at Greystone." " I know," Marston nodded. " You were going to hand the escaped convict over to them. Do you know where he is?" "Far enough away by this time. I ex pect," Beard said moodily. " Why, the fellow was actually -in my house." - , " Gilbert Doyle in your house J Sounds dramatic, doesn't it?" "How on earth did you know who the convict was?" Beard asked, in some surprise. "Well, you do know it, and there is an end of the matter. But I'm not worrying about Doyle at present. He can do no barm, and most of his spare time will be taken up in dodging the police. A man may get away from prison, he may have powerful friends, but he can't keep free for long—at least, if he stays in this country. And if Doyle does not stay here he cannot be the smallest trouble to me. Pah! I dismiss him altogether." • Beard waved his hand contemptuously. Marston said nothing, so he went on again.

" But those Virginians are quite another I matter. They have found me out, as they I were bound to do sooner or later. And my hands are tied. I can do nothing so long as they don't resort to personal violence. , If I were to tell the police they would only laugh at me. All I have to do is to watch and wait my time. I thought that I was hastening one of them out of the way tonight, but it seems that I was mistaken." " You are sure that they have left Paris?" Marston asked. "Oh, I'm quite certain about that. I went into Castleford directly I received your letter, and used the cable to Paris freely. Cost me £10 to find out all I wanted. But they left Paris for London. After that I can "tell you nothing, except that they lured me hereabouts. I guessed what ; the' game was, and did a bit of tracking on my own. And, seeing that you are in this thing almost as deeply as I am, I shall be glad of your assistance." _____ There was a menace in the speaker's tones, but the implied threat did not, seem to have any effect on Marston. so far as Gilbert Doyle, could gather. He merely growled, and said he was not in a fit state to do any business that night. " You dear out, and let me go home," he said. " When you have gone I shall be able to call my poor assistant back. He'll be too frightened to show up till you're gone. And don't you cry out till you're hurt in future." " But I nearly got hurt," said Beard. "I saw one of the Virginians, and he saw me. I suppose I was not quite so cautious as I might have been. I expect one of the fellows spotted me by my size. Anyway, we had a struggle. When I heard the other one running up I broke away; but not before I had torn my man's coat off his back. One doesn't imagine things like that." " Perhaps not," Marston replied. "We'll talk the matter over some other time. • - I'm so racked with pain that I can't follow you. Good night." Beard muttered something and went off into the darkness. Five minutes elapsed before Marston gave a little whistle, and Gilbert Doyle emerged from the bushes. That was a narrow shave for you," the poacher said. "Fancy being tackled by the very last man you expect to see. It's a good thing I gave Beard that crack on the head." "Yes: I was pretty nearly done," Gilbert admitted. If Beard had not spoken first 1 should probably have betrayed mv identity by calling for assistance. Hut T recognised those tones. The last time I heard them was on board ship, coming from South America. Our friend called himself Dr. something—the name I forget. If I had never met him I should not be here tonight. If I could only get to the bottom of that scoundrel's scheme —" Patience, and you'll get to the bottom of it in time," Marston said. "The stars are fighting on your side now. Fortune, has been against you, but she is going to smile again. , Do you know that by your kindness to-night to me. a perfect stranger, you have enlisted as a friend the one man who can right everything? ( have known Bernard Beard for years. } may as well admit it at once—l have shared his rascally schemes. When he came to live down here I followed. My disease prevented my getting a living in the old way, and I wanted to be. near Beard, with a view to blackmailing Kim if I needed money. As' a matter of fact, I have not yet had occasion to do anything of the kind, though I have been pretty near it once or twice. As it is, 1 am going to help you." "To clear my character?" Gilbert said eagerly. "To set myself right before the world ':" " Yes, yes: but it will take time. We have a clever man to deal with, how clever you will never know. Now hoist me on the pony." Marston was hoisted up with difficulty, and the pilgrimage through the woods began. Gilbert was surprised to hear a clock somewhere strike ten. It was less than an hour since he had set out .on his errand, and it seemed ages ago. " You'll be in time to keep your appointment with Miss? Cameron yet," Marston said, almost in a state of collapse. " And now. don't ask a lot of curious questions about the Virginians. Of course, you were close In- and heard what was said. IOT have perhaps heard of the Corsican vendetta Well, there is another kind <>l vendetta out yonder in the Southern States that goes farther than anything the Corsican mind has ever thought"of, and that you shall hear about in tip**" . '

Gilbert Doyle asked no further,.question*'. Bended it was cruel to bother a man so near death as Marston ; was. He clung to the neck of the pony, his face white and damp with the pain he suffered. 5 Gilbert slipped the slide of the lantern round, *6 that he could pick out even places in the ride for the pony to walk on. He came at length to the .spot where the motor-car had been pushed int.. the ditch : he flashed the lantern For a second on that sp.,t. The powerful Mercedes was no longer to lie seen. Still Gilbert said nothing. Ho was going to keep this information to himself. After all, he had no kind of guarantee of Alarston'.* pood faith. The- man, on his- own confession, had been a (Scoundrel. A little further, snd the grass was trampled down; it. was evidently the scene of Beard's first struggle. Something bright on the grass caught Gilbert's eye. As the pony passed along ho stooped and examined the shining disc in the light of the lantern. Then he whistled softly to himself as ho pocketed the metal. "I think this may be useful to me," 1m muttered. "At anv rate, it is a clue to so by. - ' * b The shining disc of metal was an American twenty-dollar piece: CHAPTER XIX. AT Till: COTTAGE. Gilbert Doyle would have- been puzzled to explain why he had said nothing to -Mat-ton as- to the finding of the gold coin, but so it was. After all his sufferings it was not tor him to give his confidences to everybody, and ho did Hot. Bee why he should make an exception in favour of the poacher. And yet Marston had given * promise to help him when the time came. "I'll get off the pony now." the latter said, drawing a deep breath. "The pain is getting belter, I wonder at times , why the agony of it does not. drive me mad. Ah. that is as sweet as a foretaste of Paradise !" _ Manston staggered to his feet, and held fits head tip like a diver who has been tinder water for a long time. The knitted lines of his face relaxed, his breath came like a sob. It was wonderful how quickly the strong man recovered. "Is it as bad as that?"' Doyle asked, with a sympathy impossible to withhold. "Bad? Well, that is a poor won! for it. It is the refinement of agonv. I wonder flow far I could go without dying of the, pain. It is always there in some form or other, better or worse, but it is always there to torture me. It is only when lam on one of my midnight expeditions that I can forget it altogether. That is partly why lam a poacher," - •." ''It Moms to m e to be a purposeless, rather cowardly life,'' Gilbert said. "So if is. I admit; but 1 must be doing 1 something— something wild and hazardous and daring. I should go mad else. Fancy me stifledl in town, getting my living at a, desk! • The thing is. impossible. I would have gone abroad with some expedition where danger lay. if it had not been for the child. I can't quite forget her." - Marston paused by a broken gate, and .turned, his pony just us the- animal wits going into a. •field.-' The cottage was' close by, the light of the lamp was- glowing red behind the blind. As Marston entered Jessie rose, from the side of the fire and greeted him with a glad little cry. She' seemed to have eyes -for nobody else. She dragged her father to the side of the cheerful blaze, and began to chafe his blue hands, tinged and hardened with the cold.

"I have been so frightened," the little one said. "I imagined all kinds of things. I should have come to you, only I could not struggle across the kitchen without pain. And then that kind gentleman came, and selemed to understand at once. I -was frightened lest- he should find his way into the bog. lam so glad to see you back." Gilbert Doyle made some suitable reply. He had no eyes at present for anything but the tall figure in the black cloak standing by the oaken settle. , The flickering rays of the firelight played upon Flora. Cameron's beautiful face and lighted up her eyes. ; Marston stood waiting for his visitor to be seated.

"I am pleased and honoured," he said,'"to see Miss Cameron here. I should like to thank you for all your goodness to my little girl, i but words fail sometimes. It was kind indeed of you not to judge the child by the father." "That would be unfair, indeed," Flora said, as she bent to kiss Jessie. "She has been terribly anxious about you. It is notfor me to preach, but for a clever man like you there is surely a more legitimate way of making a living." " I daresay there is," Mansion said, with unwonted humility; "but I am . bound to have something to make me forget the pain: that is slowly killing me. I might take to drink, but it is a pride of mine that I am not a coward. And if I had not been a poacher I do not think that Mr. Gilbert Doyle would be standing here to-night." Flora looked up quickly. The light of the fire flickered on the poorlv-furnished room and the dingy walls. Despite his rough face and shabby clothing, Marstor. looked strangely out -of place here. He would have passed anywhere for a gentleman. . ■■■ . : . - "I surprise you," the poacher went on; ' but I am stating a fact, all the same. And I am glad to place my poor cottage at your disposal. I did nob know that you had arranged a. meeting with Mr. Doyle here, but I am glad to be of service. You have, . at any rate, the satisfaction of knowing that you tiro enlisted on the side of an. innocent man." "You are in a position to prove that?" Flora asked eagerly. " I shall be; but it is a matter of time. You may be surprised to hear that Dr. Bernard Beard is an old acquaintance of mine. I could make things exceedingly awkward for the doctor if I were so disposed ; and I feel really disposed to-night." " Why to-night more than any other time?" Flora asked. "Well, because things have happened. You see, I have known for many months that Mr. Doyle -was at Greystone. I had a, pretty shrewd idea who sent him there, hut I did not interfere—a shameful confession, perhaps, but there it is. But, of course, I knew all about Mr. Doyle. And 1 when I heard that a convict had escaped,' and when I saw that convict enter the Moat House last night, I had no difficulty in guessing who he was. Even then I told myself it was no business of mine; but I feel quit'' differently now. Who would not feel a warm heart for the man who, in spite of all his troubles, took compassion on the troubles of a little child, and risked his life to save that of a worthless poacher? I've had a call to-night. I saw it plainly, before me, as if a hand had written the words in fire on the sky. If the God whose laws I have so-outraged gives me the span of life to accomplish it I shall save the honour of Gilbert Doyle." ■■■■■'■ Almost impulsively .Flora held out her hand to the, poacher. He shrank back, abashed; a little colour crept- into his tanned and rugged face. ." • '- • "I am not worthy of it," he stammered.-] "lam not fit to touch your fingers'." ■•■ " Oh, hush, hush!". Flora said. '."Pray.-. don't speak .like that! You have i made amends; you are going to stand by the side of right and justice. Let us shake hands, on it." ; .' ' Marston's fingers were trembling with something besides pain. He hardly dared to look into the pure and noble "face of the girl before him. Then their hands met. " It is many years since I shook hands .with a lady," he said. "Jessie, it is getting late. I shall come and put you to bed. I daresay Miss Cameron and Mr. Doyle have much to say to each other. Let me carry you upstairs, little one." (To be continued on Wednesday next.) - v