HELEN OF THE MOOR.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIX, Issue 14928, 28 February 1912, Page 5

HELEN OF THE MOOR.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL AEIUiTJGEMEST.

BY ALICE AND CLAUDE ASKEW, Authors of "The Paigntoni Honour.",/' Tlio Siiulamite," '' Lot©, tho Jester, Etc., Etc.

COPYRIGHT.

CHAPTER VII.

Philip drew the curtain wholly back from the window, and stood gazing out over the broad expanse of moor. His face was flushed and his fingers were tightly clenched into tho palms of his hands. For suddenly ho had been brought face to face with grim tragedy, ho whose days had hitherto been so uneventful, whoso path had been laid upon even ground ami amid fair places. * Human lifo was at stake, and he was utterly helpless to render assistance. It, anywhere, ids place was with the hunters —the law of the land prohibited him from ranging himself on tho side of the wretched quarry. He felt the irony of his bulk and strength, of tho natural impulse in his breast. to give aid to tho . weak. Ho must i' ,nd by and «ee a fel-low-creature, one whom ho had been taught to 1«-?:..m-c innocent of grave offence shot down ruthlessly unless he yielded himself up to a renewal of the torture which ho Had already endured tor twenty years. Philip's spirit revolted within him : nausea gripped him by the throat, and for a moment, though he c&zed from the window, he was conscious of nothing but a white veil of mist. _ For the first time in his life ho was realising something of tho inherent cruelty ot With Ham- it was different. Pa ; n and Buffering and" death were no novelties to him In the days when he was a war correspondent he had been witness of scenes so harrowing, scenes that vied with each other in intensity of horror, that lie had learnt to keep his ©motions in check, and watch—if fate ordained that he should tako no more active part—with seeming callousness. But even ho was not wholly unmoved as he came to the window and bid a sympathetic hand upon his friend shoulder, for this was peaceful England, where ho was accustomed to associate the firing of a gun with the death of a partridge or a rabbit, not with that of a fellow-creature. ' Two or three more shots followed in quick succession, light puffs of smoke alone indicating to the watchers where the avenger of "the law lay hidden, then from behind a boulder of granite appeared the tall figure of a man, but dimly visible to those who stood by the window of the . inn, as he sprang with long strides over the stonev and treacherous ground, making straig'ht—as it seemed to Harry and Philip—for the doubtful haven of lorren Mire. "It is he," cried the two young men; then, almost in the same breath, "Ho has a gun '" , ~ . . By some means or other the convict . had secured a gun, and the onlookers . could see that the possession of it was hampering him in his race. He did pot seek to make use of it, and he was holding it at a decidedlv dangerous angle; one might have judged him unaccustomed to the hot of firearms, or, more likely, he had lost his head in the wild excitement of. flight. In the pale light of the moon the unmistakeable cut of the prison clothes was discernible; once, too, as he turned his head, Philip caught sight, for a brief moment, of a white haggard face, a face that he knew well would haunt him in his

dreams. ~ , .... , . The night had been peculiarly still, but now the voices of men Tang out from all sides. There was no longer need for silence; the quarry had emerged from his • hiding-place and ventured into the midst of the ambuscade that had been laid for him. He was hemmed in on three sides, and below him lav the Mire, a death-trap into which he might ignorantly blunder. There was no escape, yet since the man was armed ft behoved the police to act ~ . warily. Useless blood must not he shed. Upon the road, visible from the window, in safety and out of range, small groups had collected, men from the neighbouring villagfl drawn thither by news of the sport in prospect, deeply engrossed in the life and death struggle. There were one or two women among them and several children ; the sound of hoarse voices and occasional muffled laughter went up, grating upon Philip's ears, rasping his nerves; he cursed them under his breath for their lack of feeling, for their ignorant inhumanity. , The fugitive had disappeared by now into the mist that still hovered over the bog; Philip drew ii breath of relief, fox it seemed that ha would at least be '. spared the sight of the inevitable tragedy. The pursuers were closing in, picking their wav cautiously among the boulders, . taking cover as they could, running no . risks. Behind them, trooping down the slope, defying remonstrance, followed the jackals, eager to be in at the death. "What are those stones that one can just make out down there to the left?'' asked Philip, his voice, usually clear and Tinging, subdued to a whisper. He was 1 addressing Lord Ilaynour, who had been standing the whole while, silent, but evidently intensely interested, at the far Bide of the window. Philip could not guess what his emotions might be. Lord Raynour appeared to be struggling to hold himself in check and to preserve his usual calm; his colour was slightly heightened, his grey eyes sparkled with more than their wonted lustre, his lips moved, though no sound passed between them. "He feels the horror and the cruelty of it all as much as I do," Philip had inwardly commented, " but, of course, he cannot, lie dare not give expression to all he thinks. He is, by force of his position, on the side of the law. But his heart is in the right place- I only did him justice when I said he was a good sort.

"Those stones?" Lord Raynour started when addressed—it was as though he had been lost in his own thoughts and found some difficulty in pulling himself together. "Unless I am mistaken, that must be Torren Pound—the neolithic stones close to which you tell me you crossed the Mire this afternoon.''

"Then that's the shelter Tarrant was making for," cried Philip. "A poor shelter." He shuddered as he spoke. "He doesn't stand a chance," observed Harry gravely, " not one chance in a thousand. Why doesn't he give himself up That's the"only way to save his life. But perhaps, since*"he has a gun, he has already shot at the warders or the police and done some damage. Tha* would make him desperate. No doubt ho expects no mercy.'"

"He would be a fool to give himself lip— fool," exclaimed Lord Raynour, with a sudden asperity of tone that was almost startling. " I "hope that he will be shot down, and that there will be an Pnd of him. It would bo the best thing for him-— for all." « Tho two young men stared at tho speaker in surprise. The sentiments wero so much at variance with those which Lord Raynour had already expressed. Had he not, according to his own assertion, driven to Princetown that day to exert what influence ho could on behalf of the escaped convict? This was a sudden and an unexpected "volte face." But Raynour himself quickly set their minds at rest. His face, which for the moment, had been wrinkled into a frown, regained its customary look of placid benevolence.

"Don't mistake my meaning," he said, ' ' and pray forgive me if I seem to have contradicted myself. What I meant to convey was that, as matters stand"—he waved his delicately-shaped white hand in the direction of the moor"it would be better for the convict to be shot than to be taken alive. For the position is not .quite the same now as it was. You may ' depend upon it that he has done some mischief with that gun of his —very possibly committed murder. It was simply as a humanitarian that I spoke just now. A quick death while he is excited, and his blood is roused how much better than to be recaptured and have a to-morrow to face !"

• The words rung sincere, and Harry, who knew from his own experience that there is but little fear of death in the man Who is hot with fighting, whose* "nerves tro strained almost to breaking point* was

inclined to agree with the speaker. But Philip saw things differently. To him lifo was of primary importance, and the shooting down of a human beinghowover guilty—was an offence. How much more so whenas in the present case— ho believed that the unhappy convict had already suffered twenty years' martyrdom for a crime of which ho was not absolutely guilty. Ho took up tho argument warmly, and the point was still being discussed when, after a discreet knock at tho door, Silas Harden, the innkeeper, appeared to inquire if he could bo of any further service.

" I am going out, my lord," he explained. "L want to sco this business through." "What has happened?" Lord Raynour's brow darkened. " You don't mean to tell me that the fellow has got away?" The next moment ho shot a quick glance at tho two young men. It was as though ho would say : " I have to adopt this attitude. Remember that 1 am a magistrate."

" No, my lord. But ho has thrown himself into tho hut on Torren Pound. It's only got a narrow entrance, and ho is holding this with his gun. He's already shot and wounded ono man. Tho police won't rush the place for fear that someone may bo killed. It may be a long job." Lord Ravnour drew himself up leisurely. Ho had resumed his comfortable place before the fire during tho argument with his two young friends. lie brought his finger-tips "together and sat a moment as if in thought. "I think, Mr Harden," he said at last, "that I will go to Torren Pound myself and try to reason with the unhappy man. He knows —or knew mo once "many years ago. I bought his house from him, you know, and tried to bo of service to him when he first got into trouble. Besides, he must have heard my name at Princetown Yes—l don't think it would be a bad plan—not a bad plan at all." He turned to his two companions. " What do you say, gentlemen?" ho asked. "Do you care to accompany me?" Both" Harry and Philip acquiesced readily. Mr. Harden. however, thought well to make protest. There was undoubted danger ; the man was desperate —incapable of distinguishing friends from foes, his lordship's life was of the utmost value to the whole county of Devonshire —and so on. Lord Raynour smilingly waved all objection aside. "The circumstances have again changed," he remarked in an undertone to Philip. " Other lives are threatenedblood may be shed if Tarrant does not surrender quietly. It is mv duty to prevent this if I can. Wo will go to Torren Pound." And the two young men, struggling once more into their wet and sodden boots, agreed that Lord Raynour was not only a humanitarian, but a brave man as well. (To be continued daily.)