THE BONDAGE OF HATE.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume VI, Issue 1785, 3 November 1919, Page 3

THE BONDAGE OF HATE.

[All Rights Reserved.]

By CAPTAIN FRANK H. SHAW, Author of "The Leve-Tldee," "A Life's Devotion," etc.

CHAPTER X. ' THE BUTLER'S STORY. "Call Henry Huron." "Henry Huron," ran the call through the court; and it was taken up outside. Presently the butler at Wykenford Manor was placed in the witness-box, end there duly sworn. The case had been proceeding for several hours; every item of evidence had been gone over, and proof was growing blacker and blacker against Moira Seymour. One by one the witnesses had given their evidence —lengthy, dreary, sordid —and it seemed to the soldier as though no advancement had been made. Leatham's cross-questioning had elicited no light; the testimony of the witnesses was unshakable. They were dealing with facts as they had seen them, and those facts had made an indelible impression on their minds. Mr Parfitt even, appearing 3n behalf of his partner, had been unable to throw 80 much as a faint veil of sympathy over the gathering. It had been his painful duty to swear to one damning fact: that Mrs Grenfell intended to alter her will on the morning of her second marriage, in favour of her husband, leaving Miss Seymour a trivial legacy only, compared t with what *she had been led to expect under a former will.

"Was Miss Seymour aware of this proposed alteration?" asked Leatham. "Yes; Mrs Grenfell.informed her of It herself."

"And did Miss Seymour betray any resentment —any excitement? I mean, did she present the appearance of a woman deeply concerned?" "According to my partner's statement, yes. She turned white, and bit her lips until the blood came. My partner's exact expression was, 'She looked positively beside herself.' " The prosecuting solicitor made a note of this statement, and Mr Leatham intimated that he had no more questions to ask. It had been the same with many witnesses, and every word spoken seemed to drive a nail into the girl's coffin. Farquharson wondered how that frail figure could bear itself so proudly upright in the face of that damnatory evidence; evidence that might have shattered the confidence of a strong man. Moira was like a frozen woman; her face was pale, her eyes shone with unnatural brilliance. He had had no word with her since the inquest; she had, in fact, betrayed no desire to see him in private, and he had tnought to serve her better in absence than in her presence. But the private detective he had engaged to follow up his insignificant clue had offered scant hope. As a tangible clue the ring was praetically worthless; it was so trifling that it led nowhere. He would do his best, of course; but a man needed something on which to build, something of far greater value than a mere intaglio of modern make, ■which might have been substituted long before the tragedy happened. "You were employed as butler at Wykenford Manor?"

"Yes, sir, and am still." The answer was in the precise English of a goodclass servant; but to Farquharson's ears there was a curious accent, that attracted his attention. His sense's were so much on the aftrt that he was prepared to suspect anyone and everyone. He scribbled on a bit of paper and handed it to Mr Leatham, who acknowledged receipt with a precise, legal smile.

"Yes, and so far as we can know, you gave every satisfaction in that capacity," said Broadhead, the prosecuting solicitor. "Now, Mr Huron, we should like you to tell us. what happened on the night of the 31st." "Ah, sir, if I only could!" said the old man in a faltering voice. "If I only could! The kindest mistress ever a servant had, murdered in cold blood, and the sweetest young lady accused!

"Yes, yes, we understand that this terrible affair has come as a great shock to you; but we want you to compose yourself and try to give us an account of what happened. For instance, you were not awake when Miss Seymour called you?" "No, sir; I was sound asleep." '' You had heard no suspicious sounds of any description? When you went your rounds before retiring, you saw nothing that woud lead you to believe strangers were present in the house?" "I saw nothing, sir; the house was as it usually was. I locked the doors and barred the windows; there wasn't room for a rat to enter."

"Yes, and then, when you were

aroused, what then? It was Miss Seymour who called youf" "I suppose it must have been, sir. I was sleeping heavily, and the first thing I noticed was a confusion of sound from the other servants. Then I got up and slipped on a dressing-gown —it was a cold evening, sir—and went out. Miss Seymffur was there, in a terrible way. There was blood on her hands and on her dressing-gown. She said she'd found Mrs Grenfell lying dead in her bed, with a dagger in her heart." "And what did you do?" "I, sir? I said that it was a case for a doctor, and said that v a doctor had better be sent for at once. There was no telephone in the house, for my mistress objected to them —she said they were more bother than they were worth, dealing as -she did with the Stores.'.' He was rambling on somewhat incoherently, when Mr Broadhead checked him.

"Yes, we quite understand,about the telephone. But there was a telephone, nevertheless.'' \ "Only the private One to the stables, and I called up a groom and told him to saddle a horse at once and ride for assistance. I told him what had happened', and he went off as soon as he could get ready. He called at the police station on his way, and then went on to the doctor's."

"Now, Mr Huron, I want to ask you some questions to which you will be good enough to pay particular attention. What was your impression of Miss Seymour's manner at the time of the discovery of the tragedy? You are on oath, remember; and you will speak the entire truth. Allowing for your reluctance, you must speak out." "Well, sir " The man hesitated. It was plain from the glances he cast at Moira Seymour tJtet he was consumed with sorrow. ™

"Yes, speak up," Mr Broadhead's manner wa» sharp and incisive; exactly the manner to bring a faltering witness to his senses.

"Well, sir, it struck me that she—she was simply beside herself with horror. Half-frozen, so to speak."

"Precisely. One can quite easily imagine that any woman, and especially a young woman, would be horror-struck at" finding her benefactor dead in such a manner. We will let that point pass and proceed to other matters. Did you, or did you not, hear the voices of Mrs Grenfell and Miss Seymour raised in anger on the evening preceding the tragedy!" "Yes, sir." It came so unwillingly that the witness was asked to repeat his statement, and Mr Broadhead cast a somewhat triumphant glance at the bench. "Yes, sir"; there was a quaTrel, a violent one."

"How do you know?" "Because I heard it, sir. I couldn't catch any words exactly, but there isn't any mistaking a woman's voice when she's angry, and they were both a bit above themselves that night." (To be Continued.)

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