SECOND CHANCE

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23082, 6 July 1938, Page 24

SECOND CHANCE

By HOLLOWAY HORN Author of " George," 11 Two Men and Mary, eic.. ciw.

CHAPTER VII. MARY INVESTIGATES After Mary Donovan had seen Ferguson and Wilson walking together toward the Market Square and—as she had assumed —the Theatre Royal, she hurried in the other direction. A short distance down the London Road is the big Public Library of Mossford and into this she turned. The reading room on the first floor was almost deserted and sho ascertained from the girl in charge that they had a file of the Daily Courier going back for several years. The bulk of the accumulated copies, however, made the job she had in view appear of much greater magnitude than she had anticipated. "What was it you wanted?" the girl asked. "Er ... 1 wanted to trace an old law case—l'm not absolutely certain that there ever was one," she added with a smile. "Do you know what year?" the girl asked doubtfully. "No. I don't even know that." "It's rather like looking for a very small needle in a very big haystack," the librarian said. "If 1 had got the year it would be possible," Mary said, almost to herself. "It wouldn't take long to look through the files for one year, of course," the librarian said. "Thank you. 1 may come back," said Mary. She had decided that without more data to go on the job she had in mind was hopeless. "You look tired, dear," her mother said when she reached homo. "Yes. And I'm hungry." "All right at the office?" "Yes." "Well, I hope you're staying in tonight, dear. You look very tired, i don't believe in these late nights." "Yes. I'm going to put my slippers on and settle down for a read." "Bother!" her mother said an hour later as the 'phone went. "I wish we'd never had that thing in the house." Mary smiled as she rose from her chair. It was Garrod. "I've had a chat with your friend Mr. Teddy Wilson," he said. "Oh?" she said in surprise. "I don't think he'll interfere any more with Ferguson." "That's nice of you, George," she said. "And I'm grateful." "I don't pretend to love him," he 6aid. "But he's a friend of yours." "Look here, George. Supposing I wanted to read about a certain law case —about a man being sent to prison, say—what would be the best time to look for?" "I don't quite see what you mean." "I know that your regulations prevent your telling me certain things and 1 respect you for not telling. But I do want to find out the truth. There's a file of the Courier at the library, but it's an immense job going through year after year. What year was it? Surely it can't hurt your telling me that?" There was silence on the 'phone for a moment or so, then a muttered figure. "Quite early in the year, I think, speaking from memory," ho added. "Thanks, George. You're a real pal." "1 want to be, Mary," he said. "It can't do any harm telling you what I've dope. 1 saw the other evening you had tumbled to what had happened." "Yes, 1 did." "And let me know if he's worried any more, won't 3 - ou? But I don't think he will be." "He hasn't got many friends," she 6aid quietly. "No. But he's got one. I hope it is oply friendship," he said doubtfully. "Don't be silly, George!" she said. "Still, in spite of everything, he seems a very decent chap." "In spite of everything," she agreed. "I shall go to the library to-morrow and turn it all up. I'm prepared for a bit of a shock, but I feel certain it's nothing disgraceful." "It depends what you call disgraceful." "Of course. But I'm certain that he wouldn't have done anything mean." "What about the pictures on Friday?" "Yes, I think I'd like it, George. You really are an old dear to worry about me at all." "This business with Ferguson merely makes me fonder of you. I can see that you've acted just as I should have expected you to." "You haven't acted badly either, George. Thanks ever so much! Cheerio 1"

And with that she rang off. At the offices the next day she only saw Ferguson once and that but for a moment or so. He seemed quiet, and she thought, worried, but that, as sho knew, might easily have been her imagination. Just before lunch, however, Mr. Mumford was on the 'phone to the London office and although his name was not mentioned she was certain that he and Mr. Trevowe were talking about Ferguson. "He's turning out to be a very useful man," Mumford said, evidently in reply to a question. "He's not afraid of work for one thing." That was all, for the manager went on to speak of something else. On her way home, after the day s work was finished, Mary Donovan went into the public library again and was soon deep in a file of the Daily Courier. Excepting for the girl behind the counter she was alone in the room. At the end of half-an-hour's search, suddenly, from the printed page, the picture of Ferguson was looking at hor. It was unmistakable. Below the picture she read: "Ferguson Hallett, who was sentenced at the Old Bailey yesterday to three years' penal servitude in connection with the of funds at Messrs. Murray. Bros., East Indian Merchants " The room seemed to be slowly revolving round her. but she gripped herself. * So here was the truth! He had been in prison. Quickly she worked it out. She knew that prisoners have a quarter of their sentence remitted for good conduct, and that meant that he had come to 'Mossford within a week or so of leaving prison. Teddie Wilson knew it; that was the hold he had over him. And Lucia Desmund must also have known it. Had he been in love with her? Had sho thrown him over when the smash came? Slowly she turned back the pages. "The Dawson Case." she read and then the smaller heading: "Sentences." "Yesterday at Old Bailey, Mr. Justice Macaulev sentenced the three men who were charged in connection with the frauds at Messrs. Murray Brothers. John Trevitt. the London manager, was sentenced to seven years' penal servitude; Henry Joyce Foskett. his assistant, received four years, and Ferguson Hallett, who was the senior clerk in the finance department of the firm, three years. "The Judge in his summing up commented on the fact that Trevitt. and Foskett were old and trusted servants of the firm and that the fraud had linen continued over a considerable period. "Both these prisoners had pleaded guilty, hut Ferguson Hallett denied that he had ever received a penny a3 the result of the defalcations. "The result, as far as the two former men were concerned, was a foregone conclusion, but Sir Humphrey Clintock, who appeared for Hallett, put up

A moving human interest atory of a man with a past, and a woman's devotion.

a very strong defence. His speech to the jury was deeply moving and to a great extent neutralised Mr. Jerome's searching cross-examination of the prisoner. The definitely hostile, but scrupulously fair, summing up of Mr. Justice Macauley told heavily against Hallett." In another column she found a full report of the case and as she read the cross-examination the paper had referred to, she could sense the drama that Ferguson had lived through. "So you admit you made false entries in the various books which were in your charge ? "Yes," Ferguson had replied. "I have already admitted it. I did it to shield my two friends." "Was that honest to your employer?" "I felt certain that Mr. Trevitt would adjust the whole thing. I still think he meant to do so." "You knew ho had robbed his employer?" "I knew that he and Foskett had used money belonging to the firm. ' "What is the difference between that and theft?" "It wasn't consciously theft." "Unconscious robbery?" (Laughter). Laughter 1 Mary Donovan shivered as she saw the word in cold print. "You really wish His Lordship and the jury—experienced business men and women —to believe that you put your head in the noose merely because vou were sorry for these men?" "Whether they believe it or not, it was so " "Just out of loyalty?" "Yes." "And did you owe no loyalty to those who employed you? To your bread and butter ?" "I did. And if 1 knew what I know now 1 should have acted differently." "If you had known you would be found out, you mean?" "No. I meant what I said." "What was your salary?" "Six hundred a year." "Did you on the twentieth day of December last purchase a ring?" "Yes." "What did you pay for it?" "Where did you get the money?' "I had it." "I know that. What I asked was: Where did you get it?" "I had saved it." "Were you in the habit of spending such large amounts on rings or other jewellery?" •" "No." "How much else have you saved? "The police have my pass-book. There is about two hundred pounds." "Kindly answer my question: How much else have you saved?" "About two hundred _ pounds; the amount in my pass-book.' "You have no other property? iNo other jewels, for example? "No." , "No emeralds, for example? "No." .. "To return for a moment to the books which were in your charge. You received six hundred pounds a year for keeping them?" "Among other things. It was certainlv part of my duty." "And when the accountants were in the office vou knew that they were being deceived, being-if I may use the phrase —led up the garden. • "What a curious phrase. Mr. Jerome," His Lordship interjected. "Yes, my lord. But I fancy the accused understands what I "I am glad he does. I don t. "I'll put the question differently: You knew that the accountants were being hoodwinked?" , . . "I knew that they had to be hoodwinked or the whole thing would come out." v "Now we are getting somewhere You did vou r best, T take it, to hoodwink them?" ~, , T "I had to! By thflt time, although I had not benefited to the extent of a penny, I was involved in the network of deception." , "You were involved in tho network of deception?" "Yes." "You had falsified the books." "Yes." "You had connived at theft? "At irregularities which 1 was certain would be put right." "You really think that when Foskett had paid the Borneo cheque into his private account instead of into the credit balance of the subsidiary company, he was merely acting irregularly and not dishonestly?" "It was dishonestly." "It was theft?" "But 1 thought that he would replace it. And I knew that if I gave him away it meant ruin for him." "So we get back to the curious position that \ou did these illegal and wrong acts merely out of the kindpess of your heart and with no hope of gain in any form?" "Yes " "1 want you to answer this quetsion carefully, Hallett. Are you of normal intelligence?" "I think so." "You are not a fool?" "I'm beginning to wonder." "You came to Messrs. Murray Brothers from a financial corporation—from, in short, a bank. I believe?" "Yes." "Would you have hidden similar irregularitiy on the part of a colleague in the bank ?" "In similar circumstances I think I should." "You think you would?" "Yes. Both Foskett and Trevitt are married men with young children." "And you think that the fact that a man has children —even young children —justifies him in robbing his employer?" "You twist everything 1 say!" "Answer the question!" His lordship ordered. "No, I don't. But if such a man has Acted foolishly one hesitates to do anything which would ruin him, if there is a chance of his saving himself." "If the position had been reversed, would these men have risked their position and livelihood to save you?" "I don't know." "You were in a position of trust." "Yes." "And you betrayed that trust?" "It was a case of conflicting loyalties. Loyalty to my employer and to the men 1 was working with." "You falsified vour accounts?" "Yes." "That is—you betrayed your trust?" "To T hat extent, yes." "You heard what Mr. Thomas, the accountant, who gave evidence yesteidav, said?" _ "Yes " * "You do not contest his evidence?" "\'o. It wns true." "When he pointed out the irregularity in tho first place did you lie to him ?" "I had to attempt to bluff him." "Again out of tho kindness of your heart? Out of your love for Trevitt and FoskettP" "Not altogether." "What do you mean?" "By that time 1 was in the mess as well." ''Exactly." And, at this point, Mr. Jerome, according to the Daily Courier account, "resumed his seat."

(COPYRIGHT)

Twice Mary Donovan read that crossexamination. She could understand exactly what he went through, understand that the motives behind his conduct were just what he had said tliey were. And they had sent him to prison for it! The page in front of her dimmed for there were tears in her eyes. She closed the pile of papers and dabbed her nose with her powder puff, without which, apparently, in moments of emotion, the modern woman is lost. "Thank you," she said to the librarian. "Did you find it?" "Yes, thanks." On her way back to the bus she had to pass the police station and as she did so Inspector Garrod came out. The constable on duty saluted him, for he was a man of consequence in the Force. He pulled up when he saw Mary. "You're late!" he said. "Yes. I've been in the library for the last hour." "Oh? Did you find it?" "Yes. You should read it yourself, George. That poor man!" "Usually I don't waste much pity on them," he said. "Nine cases out of ten they get what was coming to them. "I know. I've heard you before. But he's different. What ho did, was to shield someone else." "A good many of them say that." "But in this case it's true. I've read the cross-examination and 1 know him. "Look here, I'm in a great hurry, Mary. But is Friday okay.'" "Perhaps. I'm not certain." "I shall call for you at eight o'clock, my girl." "Right-ho. We'll wee." "Are you going to tell him that you know?" "No. Of course not. One day he 11 tell mo." , . "You know, Mary, you musn t let your natural sympathy run away with vou," he said anxiously. "That's what people want, George. Sympathy. Understanding. If these beastly lawyers had understood him, they would never have sent him to prison." . "Perhaps not. But in any case, keep Friday open. 1 shall be at a loose end if you don't." "All right!" she smiled and hurried OI1 " You're very late," her mother greeted her when she reached home. "Yes. And hungry, as usual." "Your aunt has been here for tea this afternoon, Mary." ... , r "I'm glad. It must be a bit lonely for you-" , r „ "She was talking about Mr. ierguson." "Then she shouldn't. ' "Why not?" her mother asked in surprise. . "Because Auntie's talk is nearly always gossip." , "Well, for once, my dear, you re wrong. She didn t say anything about him that he himself might not have heard. Now come and have the soup while it's hot." "It's good soup!" smiled Mary. "What did she say about him?" . "Onlv that although he's been with her quite a time she knows no more about him than the afternoon he came. "Why should she?" "1 don't think I should like a man living in my house and know nothing about him. He never has any letters, even." "That's surely nothing to do witn Auntie!" "No. But it's odd! Usually a man has got a mother or a sister or somebody who writes to him." 4 'Apparently he hasn't. What's Auntie going to do about it? Invent one for him?" , , "Why be so cross? \ou don t get snappy" if 1 talk about George. He's open and above bo;ird. He's told us about his mother and his brother in the Civil Service." "George is all right," said Mary. "I should think he is. Most girls would give anything to get hold of him. Whv, in the focal paper only this evening"! see that the Chairman of the Bench congratulated him on his work. "He's done very well." "Every other policeman in the town salutes him." "Even if he's in private clothes, that was good soup." "And I've cot a chop for you. 1 know those midday meals. And I want it eaten up I" "You know, Mother, you make me feel like a kid of six again." "It doesn't seem so long to me when you were a kid of six—as you call it. And then 1 could'make you see reason." "Meaning you can't now?" "Meaning just that. You're falling in love with this man Ferguson." "Nonsense, mother." "I know. And George doesn't like it." "Of course he wouldn't—if it were true." "It is true." "I'm sorrv for him. And I think he needs friendship and sympathy." "Is lie married?" Mrs. Donovan shot the question at her daughter. "1 don't think so. I've never asked him." "You shouldn't have to ask a man. "Well, I haven't," Mary smiled. "This is a good chop," she added. "1 don't think it's fair!— You're playing fast and loose with George." "Indeed I'm not. 1 shall not marry him, and I've told him so. If ho isn't satisfied with being a friend he knows what he can do." "Of course it's your life that's in front of you," said Mrs. Donovan, rather surprisingly. "That's just it, mother," Mary Donovan said quietly. "It's my life that's in front of mo."

CHAPTER VIII IA'CIA "DOES HKR BIT" Ferguson had reached home—as he was coining to think of Number Five — , at the usuai time, on the evening that, Mary Donovan had traced his case in the files of the Courier. Ho was tired, for he was working really hard at the oHico, fully aware that he had to make good in the second chance that life—in the person of Wil- : liam Trcvowe —had offered him. ..His evening meal was ready and Mrs ; Haddesden, having given up her rnthor irritating attempts to fathom the oh- . seurity which hid the earlier part of j his life, was chattering pleasantly when the hell rang. "Now who can that he?" she said, and paused as if to consider the matter. "Better open the door and find out." he suggested with a smile. "I will," she said. A minute later she returned. "There's n lady to see you. Mr. Ferguson " "A lady? To see mo?" "Yes."' "Who is it?" "It's I." said a voice from behind Mrs. Gaddcsden. and Lucia Desmund came into the room. Ferguson had risen and stood watching her in silence. "Hood evening, John," sho said. "Hr . . . roocl evening." "Won't you ask me to sit down?" "Yes. Of course. I'm sorry. You rnUior took me hy surprise." "Would the lady like a cup of tea?" Mrs. Gaddcsden asked. "1 should love one," said Lucia with a quiet little effective smile. (To be continued)