THE DOUBLE CHANCE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIX, Issue 15166, 4 December 1912, Page 11

THE DOUBLE CHANCE.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY J. S. FLETCHER, (Author of "The Thresh Floor," "When Charles I. Was King-." "Daniel Quayne."' " The Pinfold," etc.

COPYRIGHT.

SYNOPSIS OF OPENING CHAPTERS. »«iJli? t0 ? 'knnerslcy had been accused and convicte<i of forgery by his uncle, Sir Robert Mnnnersiey. He had Protested his innocence, but the eyiaenco was strong against him. Now, when nig term of imprisonment had nearly expired, he escapes from Dartmoor. Secretly he "sends a note w air Robert'* daughter, Phillipa, whom he loves. In this ho makes known his escape, and flgain protests his innocence. Phillips never belcyed him guilty, but now the wild tone of his letter alarms her, and sho makes known its contents to a sturdy miner, Jim Britten Clinton's toeter-brother. Jim feels sure that Clinton will J!"?. straight to him, and his expectations are JuJflßod the same night. Unknown to either the meeting is witnessed by a man, who steals silently away into tho darkness. Clinton and Phillipa then meet. Clinton urges upon her the necessity of an interview between her father and himself, 60 that he may. one? ogam declare his innocence. Phillipa gives him a key by which he can easily gain access to Sir Robert's study. When they part Clinton learns that the police arc on his track, and ho remains in hiding. The next evening, under cover of the darkness, he finds his way to the castle. Entering the study he thinks at first that the room is empty, but, then, to his horror, he sees that Sir Robert has fallen across his deak, and that a red stream is running over the papers beneath him. Turning to cry for help, he finds himself in the grip of a stern-faced man, and realises with sickening fear that ho is suspected of murder. >

CHAPTER (Continued.) TrcE inspector squared himself. "On arriving I found the household in a state of confusion. I was shown at once into the late Sir Robert's study. There I found Dr. Child©, Mr. Quinton, Mr. Stead, Mr. Dauncey, the butler, and the prisoner, Sir Clinton. I saw the body of the late Sir Robert."

" Where was that body ?" "It was lying across a writing-desk. There was a curious-looking, a sort of foreign-looking, knife, or dagger, on the desk."

"Dr. Child© told you that Sir Robert was dead?"

"Yes, sir." " And in consequence of what Mr. Quinton told you, you took the prisoner into custody "I did."

"Did he say anything?" "He seemed dazed. He muttered something about ' conspiracy.' Otherwise he 6aid nothing." " Now, I want to ask you a further question, inspector. You are aware, of course, that the prisoner' sentenced\ to three years' penal servitude rather more than two years ago, and that he has recently made his escape from Dartmoor?" " Yes, sir.".

"When did you hear of that?" "Well, at once, but I kept the knowledge to myself, for certain reasons." " Wo will leave those reasons at present. You have had for some days a knowledge that he was in this neighbourhood?"

" For three days." "How did you obtain that knowledge?" "From a man named Lioney Moore, a miner."

"And from his information you made certain observations and inquiries with regard to the prisoner's whereabouts?" "Yes." " They were only partly successful?" " Only partly ; 1 could not lay bauds on him until too late."

"That will do, inspector. Call Lioney Moore."

The prisoner looked inquisitively and with fascinated expectation at the man who entered the witness-box. He was a little, wizened man, with ferret-like eyes and a sharp nose, and his face was much blackened with the obvious results of some explosion of bygone years. He was the most unconcerned man in the court, and placidly chewed a length of straw. " You are Lioney Moore, residing in Europa-street, Mannersley, and you are a. coal-miner?" began the prosecuting solicitor.

" I'm Lioney Moore, and I am a coalminerwhen there naught better to do," answered the witness nonchalantly. "Three nights -ago, at midnight, you were at Dead Man's Cross, in the woods?" "That's right, guv'nor, I was." "What were you doing there?" suddenly interpolated one of the magistrates, upon whose land Dead Man's Cross was situate.

The witness looked archly at the solicitor, and the latter cast a glance of meaning at the Bench. ( "I think, your lordships, that we need scarcely go into the question of why the witness was at that particular portion of the globe at that particular hour," he said, drily. "You were there, Moore?" "I've said I were," replied the witness. " And you were hidden behind a tree where the roads meet?"

"Aye!" "Something happenedsomething unusual?" " Very unusual, I should say," replied Moore.

"Tell the court in your own way what it' was." " Well, it were this here. It were what I call a half moon-lit night you could see nicely—" " Nicely enough to poach one of my hares, I'll be bound," said, half-audibly, the magistrate who had previously interrupted. "And from where I were, which was behind that there high hedge at Dead Man's Cross, I could see straight down the road as comes from Stalford—the high road," continued the witness. "A motor-carriage come along and stops. There were two men in it. One on 'em gets out. I heard him speak, and I knew it were Mr. Clinton there." " How did you know he was Mr. Clin-

ton?" " 'Cause I heard his voice." " You had often heard his voice before J"

" Aye, many a hundred times!" "What happened then?" . "What happened then," continued Moore, glancing at the prisoner, was that Mr. Clinton and the chap what was in the motor talked a. bit, in a sort o whispering, you'll understand, and then Mr. Clinton turns in my direction. ihe other chap says, ' Well, good-bye, then, and stand up to him. Mannersley; and Mr. Clinton says, ' I'll have it out with him, no fear, Warrimer,' or some such name. Then the 'other chap set off northwards, and Mr. Clinton he turned into the wood." . " You followed him along the path through the wood?" "Yes, I did. All the same, I knew where he'd make for, and I followed him there."

"Where was that?" " Why, to Jim Britten's cottage! 'Cause ' Jim's his foster-brother, dye see?" "You saw the prisoner enter James Britten's cottage?" " I did, and, what's more, I heard him and Jim talking inside, though, of course, 1 couldn't make out what was said. And I should have kept a watch on that cottage, 'cause I know very well as Mr. Clinton's time wasn't up, and that he d broken but, only I Went home to get a bit of sleep and something to eat, and I overslept myself, and it was late in the afternoon when I told the inspector what I'd seen, and he gave me a rave pitching into, for not telling him sooner. Howsomever, I kept an eye on Jim Britten." " You mean you watched Britten's movements?"

"Yes. 'Cause I knew something was

up." "Well, what did you see of Britten with relation to .this case?"

"Why, at breaking-off time, instead of going home, as he generally does, Britten ho went up the castle way and meets his sweetheart, that lass of Riley's as is Miss Phillipa's maid, and I see him give her a letter—leastways, what looked like one. They talked for a bit, just there by that little gate as opens into the castle grounds, and she went in, and Jim went away homewards." "What is the relevancy of this particular piece of evidence?" asked the chairman.

" That, your worship, I shall proceed to show in due-course," answered Mr. Parke. "You can stand down, Moore. Your worships, 1 now—"

At this juncture somo commotion was caused at tho rear of tho court by the entrance of two men, one of whom was immediately recognised by some of the magistrates and functionaries as Mr. Miller Stanford, a leading criminal barrister of that circuit; tho other as a local solicitor. Stanford forced his way to the table.

"Your he said, "I crave pardon for what may seem an interruption, but I have only just been instructed on behalf of the prisoner. I understand that the hearing has scarcely begun, but that your worships have decided to hear the evidence which the prosecution will offer?"

Rowland Parke, waiting with obvious impatience until the chairman had answered Stanford's question in tho affirmative, turned to the usher. "Call Mr. Mark Quinton."

CHAPTER VI. It was already well known to those who packed the court, to its last inch of standing room that Quinton had actually apprehended Sir Clinton Mannersley in the' murdered man's room, and there was a buzz of expectation as he made his way into the witness-box. There was no one. present to whom he was not known, nor was there anyone there who did not marvel at his appearance. The usually vigorous, forceful, self-assertive man, a picture of health at all times, looked as if he had gone through some terrible shock. His face was white and drawn, there were heavy circles about his eyes; the eyes looked as if they could not shut out some appalling sight. And though men know that the manager had seen, only a few hours before, one of the most awful scenes on which human eyes can look, tjioy wondered, knowing him for a man of iron nerve, that it should have had such a grave effect upon him. " You aro Mark Valentino Quinton, and for about two years have been manager of Ma.nncrsley Main Colliery?" began Parke. Yes."

" You were on intimate termsT mean of a friendly and social nature—with the late Sir Robert?"

" I was."

" And visited a great deal at the castle?" " A great deal." " In fact, I may take it that you had the run of the house?" " Yes."

" You paid a visit there last night. Tell the court what took place as regards that."

" I had occasion to sec Sir Robert last night. I went up to the castle about twenty minutes past nine. Danncey, the butler, who admitted me, told me. that Sir Robert was in his study. I was going there, but on my way met Miss Mannersley, who invited me to look at some water-colour drawings which her father had recently purchased in London and had arrived yesterday. I went with her to the drawingroom to see them, and was there perhaps twenty minutes, perhaps a little longer. Then I went to Sir Robert's study." "Now, hero is a rough sketch or plan of the study," said Parke. " Look at it. There are three entrances marked there. Please explain them to their worships." Quinton pointed with his forefinger to the large sheet of paper which an attendant held up. "The study," he said, "is built at an angle of the house. It has a large bow-window facing the lawn. The door on the left hand—that is, regarding the interior of the room from the window—opens into the library. That at the rear opens upon the corridor, which rims the whole length of the ground floor. The door on the right hand opens into the garden—the grounds. A large screen stands before it. The desk which Sir Robert used stands between this screen and the door on the left."

" From which door did you enter last night?" " I entered from the corridor."

"What did you see?" Quinton's eves contracted, and he frowned slightly. "Immediately on entering the room I saw Sir Robert, lying across his desk, motionless. I saw blood on the papers on the desk. By the screen was a. young man, who was retreating backwards from the room. I had never seen him before. I seized him instantly, and as I did so, I noticed that there was blood on his right hand and on the white cuff of his shirt."

"You did not know him?" "I certainly did not know him." "You called for help?" " Yes, and Dauncey nlmost immediately came, with a footman, and Mr. Marshall Stead, who had just entered the house. Dauncey, at sight of the young man, exclaimed ' Mr. Clinton !' Then I knew who it was I had seized."

"The prisoner in the dock is the man you laid hands on?" " Oh, yes!"

Rowland Parke sat down, and Stanord rose. It was a sort of household )rovorb in that part of the country that Stanford had got more men off than any barrister living, and the pitmen at the back of the court craned their necks. "Mr. Qinton," began Stanford, taking off his glasses and speaking in his usual easy fashion, you told the court, I think, that when you first saw the prisoner he was near the screen, retreating backwards?"

"I did."

" What was his exact position he retreating upon the screen, or at the 6ide of the screen, or what?" "He was retreating in the direction of the screen. A step or two more and ho would have hit upon it." "Oh! Whereabouts would he have hit upon it?" " Full in the centre."

"In the centre. How did the prisoner's attitude strike you?" Quinton did not appear to comprehend the question. "I sav how did his attitude strike you?" repeated Stanford. " Was it that of a guilty man?" "I did not consider it at the time." -"Ah! Or was it that of a man who had suddenly, without the slightest, expectation of doing so, come upon a horrible sight, and was shrinking from it?" (To b« continued daily.)