CHAPTER XIII—THE REPORT IN THE PAPER.

Otago Witness, Issue 2368, 20 July 1899, Page 49

CHAPTER XIII— THE REPORT IN THE PAPER.

HE headlines seemed to have for Inn? a singular fascination ; it was as if he could not escape from their ostentatious inkiness. For more than a minute he continued to stare at them, repeating them over and over again to himself, like the im-perfectly-educated person who spells his words out, one by one, so that his eyes may have the assistance of his ears.

The afternoon, by now, was well advanced. The lunchers had gone. He was the only one who remained. With the exception of the attendants, the room was empty. His own particular waiter was hovering round with an air of suggestion which there was no mistaking ; it was plain that he did not intend to allow his dilatory customer to remain to read where lie was if he could help it. Mr Polhurston bowed to the inevitable.

" Bring me my bill." It was brought '" Where can I smoke? "

" I will show you, sir, if you will step this way." Gathering up his journals, Mr Polhurston stepped that way. In a smoking room easy chair he recommenced his reading. He was calmer, his pulse steadier, his mind clearer. The disturbing influence of the unexpected encounter with the Liddells and their friends had almost passed away, lie was better able to grapple with the .situation as it really vtjs ; with whatever uimca it had j»ud.den]y assumed. He .sdanced

up and down the column. The report was punctuated, wherever possible, with the unescapable headline. One of them struck him in the face — as it seemed — an actual blow: "POLLIE HILL SPEAKS OUT." His self-control was less than he had supposed. At the sight of the familiar name his heart stood still. He had to gasp for breath. Others conveyed to him an almost equally lufid significance. "A RING AND A BRACELET." "A TRY FOR THE REWARD." "THE DEAD MAN'S PROPERTY." He had to put the paper down again upon his knee — his hands had all at once become so tremulous. He leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. It was a nuisance that he should, physically, be such a fool, that his nerves could be so easily set racketting. If he could not meet a newspaper allusion with apparent unconcern then he might as well go at once and throw himself over the bridge into the river. He ordered another cognac. The wine he had drunk did not seem to have had the least effect. He would go on drinking brandy till it had brought him to the sticking point. When he did commence really to study the report it gripped him by the throat, so that he had to read it from the first line to the last in, as it were, a single, breath. He read,_so to speak, with his whole soul and body ; yet when he reached the end he was wholly at a loss to understand the meaning of what it was he had been reading. "What does it mean?" he asked. "What does it mean? "

He started afresh, more -slowly this time ; endeavouring as he went on to assimilate the purport and intention of each separate word.

It was one of those pictorial reports with which a certain sorb of evening paper pruvides its public. Part of it was from imagination, part of it descnued what the reporter saw from his particular point of view, and part of it was a transcript, more or less verbatim, of what had actually been said in the court. Although Mr Polhurston might be supposed to know something of the subject under treatment, yet the journalist's agility merely puzzled him ; and it was from what he had not reported that he had to find a key which would give the whole thing meaning.,

The report started, as " descriptive " reports are apt to do, with a flourish.,. It began by saying that the police had after all done something tjo show that they were still alive. One of those crimes which periodically shock London had remained too long a " mystery." The police had at last done something to justify their existence by bringing that morning before the magistrate at Bow street, • ROBERT FOSTER. At this point Mr Polhurston stopped to cogitate. " Robert Foster I Robert Foster I Who's Robert Foster? " ' ' ' He remembered what Mr Bayn.es had said about the initials which were on the stock of the revolver which had been found in Howard Shapcott's room, the weapon which beyond all reasonable doubt had done the deed; the two damnatory letters, "R.F." The reminiscences started a train of thought in Mr Polhurston's mind. "R.F. Robert Foster! Why, the initials fit the man. What — what an extraordinary coincidence! Suppose — but the thing's impossible. I wonder who Robert Foster is? I've never heard the name before, so far as my recollection serves. But in the society in which I've lately mingled one knew one's acquaintances chiefly by names which were not theirs." He read on in search of information. ■ According to the reporter, Robert Foster was, in appearance, of a type " very familiar in police court annals," whatever that might mean. He had refused, said the same authority, to give his age, but was " apparently between 20 and 30." He must have presented a sufficiently unprepossessing figure in the dock. "He wore no cap, his hair was in disorder, the end of a red cotton neck handkerchief straggled ovei his greasy vest, his shirt was unbuttoned at the. neck, his face was unwashed, his hands were covered with grime." He looked as if he had " recently been indulging in a rough and tumble ; by no means the sort of person an inoffensive citizen would care to tackle. Big and burly, his truculent looks were in complete harmony with the rest of him." Mr Polhurston could think of no one to whom this description applied, even allowing for the reportorial tendency towards the "pictorial." " I can't think wlio Robert Foster is : it's extraordinary, because one feels that, under the circumstances, one ought to know."

The newspaper man went on to remark that Robert Foster's manners were quite in keeping. He " looked surlily " about the court, " glared " at the magistrate, " glowered " at the witnesses, and " when the principal feminine witness appeared in the box, flashed at her a look of hatred which eloquently suggested what he would like to do to her if he could only get the chance."

The " principal feminine witness " was Pollie Hills.

When the Gentleman had ascertained that fact he put down the paper, leaned back in his chair, and endeavoured, by a series of mental processes, to arrive at" a solution of what that fact might mean.

"What is she doing in that galley? What can have happened alter I got into the box? Why is she giving evidence against this man ? " To none of these questions could he find satisfactory answers, nor did he derive much more satisfaction from the remainder of the report.

The police inspector's statement had been brief and to the point. In accordance with information received, he had effected the prisoner's arrest ; that was, in effect, the sum and substance of what he said. Pollie's evidence had evidently been the feature of the sitting ; it was slit wht had caused Robert Foster to be arrested.

"But, why?" asked the Gentleman of himself in vain. The roport^r waa uo% much m.or^ coni-

plimentary to the witness thav to the grt» soner.

" Miss Hills,' he wrote, " t.ten got into the box, where she did not seem altogether comfortable. She looked at the prisoner, and the prisoner looked at her, which' looks could not truthfully be described as loving glances. Miss Hills is a tall, strapping young lady, with short, black hair." * " Short, Jjlack hair? " Mr Polhurston stopped to"' consider. How came^ that - reporter to describe Pollie's flowing, raven locks, which descended well below her .waist, as "short, black hair"? "Although attired in masculine habilments, she did not present such an incongruous spectacle a"s might have been; the case with another lady." "Masculine habiliments?" He had some faint recollecti6n of her' saying that she would pretend to be him. How far had 'the pretence-been carried? What was the key, to the puzzle? "Although the garments were somewhat miscellaneous in character, they could hardly be said to have become the wearer ill, because, to be perfectly frank, in appearance the lady would make a very creditable man. When the magistrate asked what was the meaning of the witness's appearance in the box in such attire, > Inspector Avery declared that other, and presumably more feminine, garments had, been offered her, which she had refused to don." . . Mr Polhurston endeavoured to digest this piece of curious information before proceeding further. Pollie's evidence was described at a length and in a manner which showed quite plainly that the reporter had endeavoured, in hi* own Way, to make the very, most of it. Actually, she seemed to have said li'ttls enough, and what little she had said had apparently been .dragged out of her' very much against her will. But the scribe had decorated her statements with such a plethora of comments that it was a little diffii cult to make out off-hand which of the. assertions had come from her and which wer» original with him. " The lady commenced by saying that her name was Pollie Hills-^not Mary. > 'I'm Pollie Hills, I am ; I don't know nothing about no Mary.' " It will be • observed that the reader was apparently supposed to take it for granted', that the latter words were the lady's own. " She knew the prisoner — of course, sh» did ; the lady looked towards the dock as if she knew its inmate, if anything, too. well. Did she recognise these: The exa> mining inspector handed her first a brace» let and then a ring. Certainly she knewj; them— he knew she knew them. What did she know of them?. Why, she'd had them tied up in her skirt this ever so long i .Where did she get them from? "The witness did not answer. Instead,, she looked again at the prisoner, and again, .the prisoner looked at her. .The mutual inspection, on this occasion, lasted so long that the magistrate interposed. ' Don't look at the prisoner, witness, look at me.'' The lady looked at the. bench. The question was' repeated. ' Who gave them to. you?' 'He did.' With her hand the: lady made a significant movement toward* the dock. 'You are sure that 'the prisoner gave them to you'?' ' Certain — 'taint likely I'd make a mistake , about a thingj like that.' 'Did he say where he'd gob, them from?' ' Not a word.' ' Did you suspect anything?' 'Suspected nothing.*- ' When were your suspicions first aroused/ 'Why, last night. I see a bill about- th'j murder, and , how those were some of the things which had been stolen from tha murdered man — course then I knew.' "At this point the magistrate aeked to be allowed to examine the articles ii> question, which he did with considerabls care, comparing them with the description. , on . the placard to which the witness had referred. ' You are sure,' he asked, ' that? the prisoner did give you these tilings?' ' Certain,' said Miss Hills. ' When did ha give them you?' The witness seemed t<s turn the question over in her mind, then replied without any show of hesitation : ' The day before Christmas Day ; I remember it, because he said I might consider it as a Christmas present.' " Once more Mr Polhurston paused in his reading. They had been given on th« ' day stated, and something^yery like - th«words ~ quoted- had accompanied the gift. "The speech had evidently lingered in ' th« gill's memory. Mr Polhurston . guessed .for wjiat reasons. With what diabolical ingenuity had she attributed the one man's f;enerosity to the other. He pressed hij' ips together, and he -wondered. Presently, he resumed his reading. " The inspector returned to the charge ! The murder of John Howard Shapcott, he reminded his Honor, was committed on December 22. Witness states that these articles were given to her by the prisoner on the day before Christmas Day — that is, the 24th ; two days after the murder. When the court had been afforded an opportunity to properly appreciate the ominous significance of the close juxtaposition of these two dates, Mr Inspector suddenly brought .the hearing to a close. '"That, he said, was all the evidenc* which, at present, lie 'proposed to offer. The prisoner had only been arrested an hour or two ago, so that there had been' no time to communicate with the Treasury. He asked for a, week's remand. On tha next occasion the witness, Hills, would again be put into the box, and he would be prepared with other evidence. The remand was granted." So the report closed. And, for Blaise Polhurston, a period ol meditation began. What, now, was th«meaning of it all? One thing was clear:' Pollie Hills had committed perjury. What had actuated her, or what was at the back, of her mind, as yet he did not understand. So far as he could judge, she had actually gone out of her way to lie. Which seemed, a pity, to say the least. It only mad.bad worse ; complicated an already sufficiently intricate situation. Who was Robert Foster? And how came he to be arrested? Those were thd two matters on which Mr Polhuiston was* still completely in the dark. On these^ two points, to him of the first importance,' the report said nothing. Had Pollie, in. her desire, at the last moment, to evader arrest, sacrificed someone else? In. thaflj

I ease, who? .'A stranger? Or an acquaintance? • In either eventuality, the outlook was an unpromising one for her. If the man was a stranger, he would have no difficulty, and no hesitation, in making clear her perjury. He had only to open his mouth and the thing was done. The parties # would change places ; he would step out of the prisoner's dock, and she into it. Then what course would he, Blaise Polhurston, be compelled to pursue? If she still persisted in refusing to point her finfer in the" direction in which he very well new it easily might be pointed, could he sit still and see her suffer? Perjury in a capital case Ayas a heinous offence, especially such perjury as this of hers. He shuddered as he thought of the tremendous penalties which she was challengSuppose Foster was an acquaintance^ even a friend ; though so far as the Gentleman knew he himself was the only friend she had. The irony of it! The matter would not be bettered for Pollie. He would still be able to establish his innocence with ease ; it was not to be supposed that he would, for a moment, allow any consideration of any sort or kind to prevent his doing so. On this occasion it seemed that he had not been accorded an opportunity ; before the case came on again the bubble would be blown. Then Avhere Avouid Pollie be? No, the girl was mad ; that was the •simple truth — incapable of looking the situation fairly and squarely in the face, or she .would not have been guilty of such unutterable folly. In a fit of temper she had made one false step ; in her frantic endea.vours to retrieve it, she was making half a dozen more, in fresh directions, all much falser than the first. If she had only held her tongue, and kept her temper, how different it might all have been. Mr Polhurston writhed as he thought of it. He conjured up her face — or rather, it rose before him, plain and palpable, Avithout there being any need of conjuration. 'How it had appealed to •some chord in his nature, Avhose existence, even, he had not (juspected — hoAV it still appealed! Had he sloughed his skin? Had he the fchameleon-like faculty of transformation, or seeming to himself to be other than he fwas? Was he in his proper place as Pol■liurston of Polhurston— as the Gentleman? ■How came it that he Avouid have given — ;well, much, to have had her at that moment at> his side, in front of him, anywhere close at hand, so that she might be within touch of him and he of her. He confessed to himself , Avith a burst of sudden frankness, indeed; with sudden intuition, that Shapcotl's money Avouid be Avorth little to him if she' Avas not to share it. Ifc was odd. For she Avas — what she was. He knew it. He Avas under no delusions. And yet He sat for" some time in" that smoking room armchair, thinking, Avith the tips of' his fingers tressed tightly together, and his •lips pressed tighter' still-. At ' the end he lhad arrived at a de'terminatioh. He rose, Avi^h a curious fixity' of expression on his face, arid 'went out. He took a cab to Charing Cross station, alighting at the top of Villiers street nearest to the station yard. There for some moments he- stood and looked about him. Then from amone the throng of yelling newspaper boys he singled out one. He touched him on the shoulder. The boy's back was turned to him. Supposing it to have been a customer who had touched him, he swung round Avith a couple pi papers held out in his hand. ' " Star or Sun, sir?" "Ike," said Mr Polhurston, "I want to Speak to you. Come here." The boy stared up, recognising his interlocutor with an amazement AvTrich Avas grotesque. "Lor bless me!" he gasped. "If it feint the Gentleman." Mr Polhurston drew him around the corner, a little under the shadow of the station

wall. "I Avant you to find Pollie Hills, and to give her a message. I'll give you four half-crowns if you will. Do you think you can?" "What? Four half-crowns? Find her? Do I' think I can? Blimej-, if she's alive I will, and that inside of half an hour." " Tell her, that I want her to meet me this Evening, at 8 o'clock, at the old place. You understand?" "Do I understand? What do you think? iYou want her to meet you at 8 o'clock — sharp, I'll- say, 'cause gals ain't over and above punctual — at the old place ; that's right "enough." " Here's the money. And off you go. &nd don't forget the message." " Not much I won't. I ain't of a forgetting sort, and that you know." The boy sped down Villiers street, Avith his papers tucked beneath his arm. He ran up the stairs leading to Hungerford ■Bridge, Mr Polkurston Avatching him till he turned and passed out of sight.