THE SCALES OF JUSTICE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIII, Issue 13369, 26 December 1906, Page 10

THE SCALES OF JUSTICE.

.'V . ' . ? [PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.]

BY FEED. M. WHITE, Author of "The Nether Millstone. "The Corner House." " The Slave of Silence/* " Craven Fortune." etc., etc.

[COPYRIGHT.] • CHAPTER XXXVl.—(Continued.) Mart held her breath. , The critical moment on which so much depended was at hand. And by pure good chance Beard was giving the girl the very opening she desired. "You mean it has all come back to you?" Beard asked. There was a suggestion of eagerness in his voice. " Come, that is good hearing, Winifred. You mean that everything, is quite clear, like peals in a chord? .What made you think of that?" "It was the red flower on the table," Winifred replied. The dinner-table decorations were deep-red chrysanthemums. "I wondered what connection; there was between something you once said to me and red flowers. It was something that you . .wished me to remember." "Yes, yes!" Beard said. His voice sounded strained and hoarse to Mary. "What was it that I asked you to try to remember? Something to do with .some papers?" • . " Yes, 1 ' Winifred • replied—"some papers and a luncheon party at the Alexandra." _ The listener could hear Beard rise from his chair and pace, up and down the room. Mary hoped he would not close the door. She ■-' had made up her mind to rush into the room on some pretext if Winifred betrayed any knowledge beyond what it was suggested she. should say. But Beard did not appear to notice the door. 4 "My dear child, I hope you are going to take a load off my mind," he said. "Those . j papers you mention-are of vital importance. Without them I shall soon be on the brink of' ruin, or worse than ruin. Think of the red flowers." "I am thinking of them," Winifred said. She spoke like a child rejoicing in the full knowledge of some difficult lesson. " I can see the red flowers quite plainly, and the waiter with something the matter with his eye. And I recollect that we had lobster cutlets for lunch." ' 1 " Bravo!" Beard said. He spoke with enthusiasm, but his voice was shaking. "We are getting on quite famously.. Do you remember what'l gave to you?" " "Certainly I do. We had just taken our places and begun lunch when another man came and took a. seat close by ns. It might have been my fancy, of course, but it seemed to me that you did not like the look of the other man." , • ,

' -• •"I didn't," confirmed Beard. »" He was a * hated rival, you understand, capable of stealing my cherished secrets, and of doing me a mortal injury to get possession of them. Perhaps I was absurdly, nervous, but I had been working very hard, and my nerves ■' .were unstrung. I felt that man was dogging my footsteps to rob me." In spite of her anxiety Mary could not repress a smile of contempt. The whole thing had fallen out exactly as DeJamere had predicted. Before he had parted with - the papers Beard had been, quite convinced that he was being followed by a detective, , and his lively imagination had filled in the \ rest. ; Hence the transfer. of the papers to , Winifred. " That is the truth of the matter," Beard . went on, in the way ffchat we explain things . *,'t© an intelligent child of tender years. He was. fond of talking in that .way 'Wini- , fred. "I was frightened. A great, big, strong man like me was frightened. But . * then, I had a cunning man to deal with, who was capable of anything. And he was far cleverer than me. So, when somebody v called him out, I passed those papers on to ' - you. Say you recollect," j. '•> Beard's tone had suddenly become almost beseeching. Maty could . 'hear Winifred's little laugh of. pleasure. • , "I do remember," she said. " The sight i ot the red flowers on the;table makes the • recollection all the more vivid. Only I'm glad I did not know of the danger at the time, or I should have been dreadfully frightened. I hid the papers in my fur." ~ " You did! I knew they were quite safe in your hands, and that the enemy would never suspect. And that same night you SKipped away to Hastings, where I could • not follow you because I was Iso busy. And then came your great misfortune, and your illness. I tried and: tried to recall things to your memory, but it was all lin vain. But we are moving from the question of the t .papers." f "I don't think I should be able to tell you where I placed them - but for an accident," Winifred said. . "You see, it is over two years ago, and I attached no great' importance to the matter. But when you sent me away from home ten days ago-*-, t why did you send me?", •' . That you will know all in good time,'' Beard said caressingly. "Go on with your story." '■/I V' Very well, doctor. When I went away ' from here I took the little red box. You know that I was always fond of the little red box." ' '•

Beard nodded. He , had regarded the affection for the red box as a sign of Winifred's great mental weakness, a thing to be humoured. . But now he grasped the situation. ■ • t .

"I took the box with me. It seemed to me that that box was a. sacred trust, concerned in some way with something that I had to d 0.... And yet, at the same time, ' ; - the box seemed to be empty. Also, I had forgotten how to work the secret spring. • But I know now; I have opened it." "And found the missing papers inside?" .Beard asked hoarsely. "Is that what vou mean?"

" One of the papers,'' Winifred said. " I ' have it with me now. I expect I must have dropped the rest out 011 my way here today.You see, I did not attach , any im- " portance to the contents of the box at the time, because I had not recollected I placed the papers in there. 1 And now I cannot remember that 1 1 ever did put the papers there; but I must have done so, or the £ single one now in my possession wouldn't • have dropped'out." '• -»i.. Something that sounded.like a suppressed groan came from Beard. " You had better make sure," he said. " Better make sure. Let me see it." Mary could hear the crackle of the paper «£ it shook in Beard's hands. The listener .. . was beginning to feel easier in her mind ' now. ;.,' Winifred was carrying out her part 1 " quite naturally, and without the slightest idea how every -word she said meant, another ' mesh in the net that was slowly closing in -7 upon Bernard Beard. Another minute or . two and she would be able to. make some excuse to enter the dining-room and take • Winifred away. "This is one of my papers, right enough," Beard was saying. " The other— But you say that you have only quite recently re- • membered the secret of opening that box.". ■ That is so," Winifred replied. "It is only a matter of hoursto-day, in fact." "Then the great-bulk of the papers were in the box only a short time ago," Beard \ exclaimed. "They are not far off; prob- - - ably in the woods somewhere. They fell out a$ you came along. But do not worry about that, my child. Don't tell anybody. And don't imagine that I blame vou -in the least. Oh, dear, 110!" ;• It was quite time to interfere, Mary . thought. Winifred had told Beard all that he was to be told, and in her pretty, en7gaging way she had played the scheme of those who desired to bring Beard to justice. . It. would be a thousand pities to spoil ' . the whole thing now' by a chance erroran : allusion to Mr. ~ Delamere, for instance. And Beard could not get any further information. Winifred had told him everything. "You are not angry with me?" Winifred asked. :-Ut - ■

fly dear, child, how could I be angry with you?" Beard said. The tone was very tender, despite the ring "of disappointment that filled the voice. "You have managed to recollect everything. The only pity is that you did not look at your box as you came along. Still, the truth has come out so quickly , on the top of the disaster that the lock can easily be repaired. What way did you come here to-day?" L > Winifred explained the route taken from the cottage to the Moat House. She had hardly finished when Mary came in. The girl's face was white. As - she dared not meet "the keen eye of Bernard Beard, she kept outside the range of light on the din-ing-room , table. But Mary might have

spared all her anxieties, for Beard did not look at her at all. He had quite enough to occupy his own,anxious mind. He had risen again, and was buttoning his dinnerjacket with the air of a .man who bad adventure before him. " Don't you think that Winifred ought to go to bed early?" Mary asked. She repeated the question twice before Beard seemed to be aware of the presence of a third person. He looked at Mary as if he did not see her at all., "Of course; most assuredly," he said presently.. "I had almost forgotten that the poor child was an invalid. She has been so bright and clear to-night. Her memory seems to have actually come back. Still, a good night's rest, you know! Take her and put her to bed." "And if we should happen to want you?" asked Mary, greatly daring. " My dear child, there will be no need for me," Beard said. "Make your mind easy on that score. lam going out. I may not be back for some time." With a deep sigh of thankfulness, Mary helped Winifred upstairs. Winifred must undress, and Mary would come back to her by and by, she said. Mary stopped at the corridor and looked furtively over the banisters into the hall below. Presently she • saw Beard come from the library. He had exchanged his dinner-coat for a" rough jacket; he had something in his hand that looked very like a dark lantern. Then he opened the "front door and disappeared into the outer darkness.

Mary flew aloni, the corridor towards the little "room where Flora frequently eat at nights. Flora was there waiting. Her dark eyes looked at Mar v.

"It is all right!" the latter burst out. " Flora, I listened— listened to every word. ] could not tear myself away. And Winifred came out of it splendidly; not a single question was asked that was likely to arouse Beard's suspicion. And he has gone out of the house dressed in rough clothes. He has a lantern with him."

" Everything is going for us to-night," Flora whispered. "Go to the housekeeper's room and bring little Jessie Marston to me. There is not a moment to lose."

CHAPTER XXXVII. SETTING THE TRAP.

Little Jessie came up from the housekeeper's room, where she had been made much of. The smile vanished from her face as she looked at Flora. Perhaps the child recognised her actual importance, for she became quite grave. "I am going to ask you to return home at once, little one," Flora said. "In any case, it is quite time you were at home. I want you to take a letter to your father, and see that he gets it without delay*. If lie is away from home can you find 1 him?" .

Jessie smilingly confessed her ability to find her father- in most circumstances. She had not been free of the woods all this time for nothing. But her father was not away to-night, she said. He was sitting at home with the nice gentleman who was staying at old Anna's "cottage. Flora had no difficulty in recognising Gilbert Doyle from that description. " Then sit down for a minute or two, whilst I write my letter," she said. The letter was "speedily completed -and sealed. "Take it, and get home as soon as you can. And mind that nobody is to see that letter but your father." Jessie promised and vanished. Flora turned with the least suspicion of a sigh to Mary. It is all veiy hateful," she said. "Here am I depending to a great extent on the hospitality of Bernard Beard and yet 1 am plotting against his liberty. I should like to accuse nini to his face, not stab him in th& back like this."

"It is' dreadful," Mary agreed. "Our position is worse than yours. Dr. Beard has been a great friend of >urs. I could tell you lots of kind things that he has done. I am certain that, in spite of his extraordinary conduct, he is passionately attached to Winifred. And lam helping to bring; about his downfall. But we could not ao anything else." "No," Flora said simply. "We could do, nothing else. Only I hate .to fight with this kind of weapon. Still, the innocent must be saved, and Winifred's happiness secured. We are compelled to use the kind of weapons Dr. Beard uses himself." Meanwhile Jessie "was speeding' on her way to the, cottage. It was a. pitch-dark night, with no suggestion of a moon. The great forest trees loomed like phantom shapes against the , sky. < Any stranger would have been hopelessly lost in a moment. But Jessie plunged into the wood with perfect confidence and not the semblance of fear. She could have found her way home blindfold. She was filled, too, with the subtle importance ■of her mission. She felt sure the letter was of great mo-, ment. She had the air of being a party to the conspiracy as she handed the letter to her father. - '

"It is from Miss Cameron," she said. "I was to be sure to give it to nobody but yourself." Marston smiled as he took the letter and broke the envelope. But the smile faded from his face, and a keen expression took its place. There was a suggestion of. pleased triumph playing about the corners of his mouth.

"This. is good hearing," he said. "I shall have to go out presently. In fact, we shall both have to go out. There's a_ little time to spare, Jessie, my dear. You must go to bed. I have not the smallest idea when I shall get home again." Jessie nodded obediently. She never questioned anything her father said. In his wisdom he had decided that she must go to bed. and there; was an end of the matter. She kissed Marston, and made her way quietly up the stairs. Marston vanished, too, returning soon with the news that Jessie was already in. bed and fast asleep. " I wonder she is not afraid to stay here alone," Gilbert .siid.

"The little one is not afra.id of anytiling,'' Marston said with some pride. 1 " She would go into the heart of the woods at dead of night if I asked her. The love I'have for my child is the one whit© spot in my life. It is good to know that she will be well cared for after I have gone." " I will do that if; nobody • else does," Gilbert replied. " That is very good of you, Mr. Doyle. Miss Cameron has already undertaken the task, but that does not- lessen the generosity of your offer. This is the second time you have proffered aid to the one who has been your passive enemy. Still, it was a good night's work for you when you came to me in the wood. But I am forgetting. I have a letter of the greatest importance from Miss Cameron. I have already told you about those bonds in the little red box. It seems that Delamere's scheme succeeded beautifully, and I hope before long 'to be in a position to prove that Madame Regnier and Beard were the reaj thieves. I want you to go as far as the farm where the Delvmeres are staying."

(To be continued on Saturday next.)