THE STORYTELLER

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXIX, Issue 8784, 14 July 1914, Page 4

THE STORYTELLER

THE RIGHT WOMAN—THE WRONG MAN CHAPTER XXXll—Continued. “Tho evidence points to worse than that. The 'marks on, the throat suggest attempted strangulation, tho trodden turf on the cliff-top may justify you in .supposing a deliberate endeavour to hurl an evidently beaten man to his death below. An endeavour-; that was unfortunately successful. By one of those chances that, make us still belidifo ■ that where murder has been done earth, and sea both ■ refuse to hide it, the body is picked up by some. fishermen the night. Tightly clasped in tho dead hand is the locket and bit of broken chain the accused man acknowledges he was wearing that very • afternoon. Gentlemen of the jury, I ask yon to put out of your minds all preconceived ideas on tho case and to decide your verdict on what you have heard to-day. Is the prisoner in tho dock, by the evidence laid before you, guilty of the murder of his half-brother on Friday, the twelfth of October last, or is he not? Consider well your answer, but give that answer without fear or favour. Gentlemen, you are dismissed.” • ■An audible breath the crowded, . court, there was the indescribable sound of many people moving slightly. The judge rose and began to put his papers together preparatory to ■ going to his room. The jury rose nnd turned to follow their foreman. Suddenly there was a murmur rising to a confused, excited shout. ' “Fresh evidence! Fresh evidence 1' Bradbury, pale and shaken at the Conviction of bis own failure, rose hastily. * “One moment, m’lud,” he begged. If your lordship will wait one moment!” The judge turned, and with a motion stayed the departing jurymen. “What is all this?” he asked sharply. Bradbury spread deprecating hands nnd shook a deprecating head. He did not know, Someone was shouting at the back of the hall, shouting and struggling in the grip of a stalwart policeman. “Ho didn’t do it I I will be heard! I will speak! He didn’t do it, I tell you.. I did it myself!” “Bring that man forward,” said the judge. Ho came, still in the grip of the policeman; a tall, fair stripling, with blue eyes shining- brilliantly in his pale face and the scarlet stain of excitement across one cheek. He shook off the policeman, pushed bis way to the solicitor’s table, and addressed, not the judge, standing by his throne, but tho prisoner at the bar. “I killed him,” he said deliberately. “I thought he was you!” Evan Bradbury, K.C., rose, “M’lud, 1 beg that this evidence may bo admitted,” he said. “I know nothing of it, nothing whatever, but it is evidently of importance.” . “You may speak,” Said the judge. Then Freddie told his tale. How he had got himself into monetary difficulties, and to extricate himself had filched from his employer once, and then, again. How Sir Robert had forgiven him, and he had sworn to do differently. And meant it, and kept his resolution till once again temptation had worsted him, nnd ho had fallen a third time. And again Sir Robert would have forgiven him, hut for his son. . How he had been convicted nnd imprisoned at young Bob’s instigation. How he had brooded over it during the three months of his imprisonment, and come out determined to be revenged. How be had waited for young Bob at the Blue Anchor, meaning at first nothing worse than reproaches and a blow. How at sight of his enemy madness had rushed over him. and he had tried to kill—not nnlv tried, but succeeded. How bo had first throttled and then flung down

into the sea young Robert, his foe, or so ho bad believed. How, when young Robert was arrested for a crime ho had never committed, lie had seen his way to a yet sweeter vengeance,! ahd maliciously; had enforced and enjoyed it till td-day., ( Not a word Pf Daphne, never one,| till at tho end of his tale he turned and faced her where she dropped, faint and white, over the barrier behind which she sat.

“Daphne,” he cried,, and his voied rang through the silent court, “Daphne, have 1 done the right thing—this time? Have I come up to what you expected of me—for once ?’’ ; They gave him fifteen 'years. _ but Freddie did not, Serve them. A higher Tribunal, another Judge, will determine the length and severity of Freddie’s punishment. For some time Freddie had been burning -the candle of life at both ends, arid, prison discipline, acting on an unsuspected delicacy of constitution, was a strain the he could not endure. He spent the second year entirely in the infirmary. Many little indulgences came his way; for ho was' a favourite with everybody,) but he cared little fqi- them until the; last and greatest was granted, extra visits from the two Women who loved! him. “Daphne,” he told her, “It’s worth l dying for this.” In the third year of his sentence ho) died. Daphne honestly grieved for) him. Away up .in Yorkshire’s farthest; North-east Corner a man worked and waited in quiet patience till the days of her grief should bo past. And) while he waited life with others in this, little chronicle pursued its more or loss chequered way. Lyn came into! his Thiele Oliver’s money, and Aunt Elizabeth took him to her heart. One. of her daughters gratified to the full her ambition for her girls, fbr Pcggyl married Francis, and makes him anj adorable wife. Befitina refuses to marry! at all. ...

The owner erf a pleasant voice and a pair of steel-grey eyes worships another woman, a woman who has been held away from him for three whole yeari, but given to him full and freely an last. Often he grudges those three, . lost years. Sometimes he even laments them. But Daphne will not) listen.

“Don’t say, don’t ever say that they were wasted, Robert,” she begs; “I know, you know that he was worth it.”| “That he was over 'worth anything; was your work,” says Robert, with con--viction. “And his mother’s,” adds Daphne softly. [The End.]