CASHIERED.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6580, 2 September 1899, Page 1

CASHIERED.

(By WALTER WOOD.) Author of "Through Battle to Promotion," "A Captain in the Fusiliers," ; " Barracks antlßattlefield," etc.,"" etc. The finding of the court-martial had teen ! made known, and there could bs no doubt | that the General of the district would confirm the sentence. Arthur Hedley, subaltern in the Hawkshire Regiment, had been found guilty, on what a judge of assize would have called the clearest possible evidence, of an act unbecoming the character of an officer and a gentleman, and for that offence there was but one punishment — cashiering. The inquiry had been exhaustive and protracted, and nothing more was to be done. Hedley heard the sentence in amazement. From the very first he had been stupefied at the charge, a charge which enemies had trumped up against him, and which they had managed to bring home to him. "I have already told you, sir," he said to the President, " that lam innocent. On my honour I tell you that once more." "lam sorry that I cannot hear you now, Mr Hedley," said the President. "You have had your opportunity." "I want you to clearly understand how the charge has been sustained. It is a question of malice from the beginning, and I shall spare no pains to show it." " It is impossible for me to listen to you," replied the President. " At any rate, before the members of this Court separate," said Hedley, "1 will tell them that I have been found guilty by prejudiced judges and lying witnesses." Officers who were leaving the room stared at this. There was a murmur of disapproval, and appealing eyes were cast towards the President. One or two of Hedley's former friends got stealthily outside. They did not look at him as they passed. He had been f«ond guilty of the charge alleged against him, and their social obligations towards him existed no longer. He was to them a non-existent being ; an outcast, a pariah, It was not good to speak to or associate with him, and they followed the example of their kind from time out of memory, and passed by on the other side. Hedley saw it all, and 'a great sense of his isolation came over him. He looked mutely round the room, and sought the comfort of some friendly eye. Not one was raised to meet "his own appealing glance. Even his bosom comrade Whittingham hung ids head and drummed his fingers listlessly on the table. They waited for him to leave the room, to take himself and his belongings off the premises, to remove the social stain which his very presence oast upon the atmosphere of the barracks. His young hot blood coursed quickly through him at the slight, which no one spoke and yet all put upon him. He walked forward until he stood very near the President, and in low firm tones demanded to be heard. , „ The President's back was towards him, and the only answer to his^ words was a shrug of the President's square padded shoulders. " They were positively the finest pheasants I ever saw," the President was saying to his companion; "and the sport was absolutely superb." " Sir," said Hedley, in a hard, cold voice, " I no longer ask to be heard, I demand it. I will speak." " Mr Hedley," said the President, turning slowly round, " you have had every chance. The Court can do nothing more. I cannot listen to a word further from you. I really must ask you to remember where you are." He again turned away. Hedley's hand was raised to pull him round by force, when Whittingham touched him on the arm. "For God's sake," he murmured with a white face, "remember where you are and what you are doing. Come with me, if you value my friendship and your own good name." Hedley mutely followed Whittingham to the parade. "Now," said his friend, you must listen to me. There's not the slightest hope of clearing yourself by acting in this w»y. One or two indiscreet words now, and your future is completely wrecked. The President is utterly powerless in the matter. If you want to speak at all, see the Colonel." "I am innocent, and wanted to tell the President so again. As for the Colonel, I have something also to tell him. Would to God I'd let him know it sooner." Hedley spoke with flashing eyes. "Fm treated like a dog, and all for a sin that was never mine. I shall tell the Colonel so ; I can't keep it back. I would rather die than not let him hear it." "As you think best," said Whittineham, coldly. "If you do that I can do nothing for you." He walked slowly off, and left Hedley standing alone. "Like the rest, like the rest," muttered Hedley, bitterly. "Daren't touch me, daren't look at me, daren't speak to me. I'm like the pitch, that none may handle and not be defiled." The sense of wrong surged through him so that he could have cried aloud. He hurried back to the room to tell all who were there the thoughts that arose within him. He tried the door. It was locked. He wondered for a minute what he should do, then he hurried to his quarters and waited there until he saw the Colonel and other members of the Court come forth. He went out and put himsell face to face with the Colonel, upon whose face there was a smile of Satisfaction. "I will move heaven and earth to undo the wrong to which you have been a party," said the subaltern. " I can have no dealings with you," the Colonel answered coldly. "You will please ercuse me." He would have walked on, smiling still. Long years before, the father of the man who, largely through his means, as he put it, had just come a social mucker, had done to him an act which he had never forgotten or forgiven. That man was too high in power for him to touch, but it was enough that he. had had his vengeance through his son. Hs had waited long, but his reward was sweet. " One moment, sir," said Hedley. " 1 have already summoned my lather from India, and he will soon be here. If there is justice in the Army, and influence can obtain it, I shall htive my share. My father will see the Commander in-Chief himself." The Colonel's smile vanished, but he affected superior isolation still. " You have had a fair trial and the law,"

he said. "Tne Commander-in-Chief Cam give you nothing more." " He can see whether I hare had justice,"' said Hedley, hotly, ." You have got all the justice you axe likely to get, from whatever quarter. "The authorities are not accustomed to favour juniors sb the expense of their superior officers." Hedley had resolved to remain calm and unmoved, to bear bdmself with" coolness until his hour of victory came, and then cast all restraint away. But the Colonel had spoken tauntingly, and as one with whom assured victory was resting. The young man's wrath blazed forth. " Do not. drive a desperate man too far,'* he said. "For tine present, remember, I meet you on equal /terms. For the present I Trill be -what you 'tell me I am— nominally a -civilian — and I will act as one iii defence of my private honour.' "■That will prove an easy matter," sneered the Colonel. " A camp that giVns no opening for attack is easily defended." ■ Hedley understood" ths taunt, and before, he realised what- he hod done ho had struck the commnnd : ng offic-er smartly across the face. The applauding little laugh which rose frr.m the spectators' wlven the Colonel spokr- changed swiftly to subdued gasps of surprise. Two of the bystander* walked up to Hedley and p\it their hands upon him, as policemen miffht upon a. prisoner. Hedley shook them off. blind with passion. " Let any other man lay hands on me like that," he said fiercely, "and I will strike bim to the ground. Now, sir," he added to the Colonel, "I am here to await any action you care to take. You have done your best to ruin and crush me, I have given you cause to do more mischief still. If your lust for vengennce is not glutted you have chances yet of doing more to stake it. " " The matter now is one for the Civil authorities/" replied the Colonel. "Thank God, what has been done just now is not the act of a British officer and a gentleman." " Nor was your act in India twenty years ago precisely in keeping with the character ■of an officer and a gentleman, of w^ich- you seem to be so jealous," answered 7~<*dley. The Colonel, pale before, turned livid: at this, but he managed to articulate, pointing: to the main gate of the barracks square, "Leave the precincts of the barracks, or I will have you put into the road with afl. the ignominy you deserve." Hedley's passion blazed afresh. "I will say what I said a moment ago. The first man who lays a hand like that on me I will strike down — if I have to use his own bayonet to do it." "For God's sake, sir," said Major Wilby, a member of the court, " don't prolong thin awful scene. Think of the honour of the regiment." The Major took the Colonel off, and Whit- 1 tingham came up to Hedley. " Arthur," he whispered, "if you care to keep my friendship, leave the place at once. I will see you at my lodgings to-night ; my wife is absent, and we'll talk things over. Not a word now — go." Hedley obeyed and left the parade. The sentry shouldered as he passed, and looked curiously at the downcast man who returned his last military salute instinctively. "Arthur," said Whittingham, gravely, when Hedley took a chair in his not too luxurious dining-room, " it's no good mincing matters, what you did to-day has mad* your chance of reinstatement hopeless." " I don't expect~to weaF tier Majesty's uniform again," said Hedley. ' " But I couldn't keep it long, even if they gave it back to me; I'm a doomed man. This afternoon I went and got examined by a doctor, and what I've long suspected baa come to pass — I'm a consumptive, and a bad one at that." Whittingham rose and pressed his hand in silence. "This day's work brought on internal htembrrhage," proceeded Hedley calmly, "and I've had fits of coughing that have nearly wrecked me. But I will live to clear myself from the foul stain that has been put upon me. God grant me that, and I shall die content. The doctor orders me to the Cape as the only ho Ic—as 1 c— as if I could go to the Cape, fixed as I am fixed now!" " But you must do as he says. " I won't leave this town while I've got a leg to stand on. I'll stay here and fight my case till I drop." "Arthur," said Whittingham, earnestly, rising and looking closely at his friend, " You must be guided by me in this matter. If you mean to get a vestige of Buccess you must have a stronger will than your own, and a less hasty temper. Forgive my plain speaking; we understand each • other, I hope, by this time?" I " You've always been a real friend, said Hedley, in thick tones. "But even you can't know how I've suffered, and how I suffer still. Think of it>- found guilty, and as innocent as yourself." "It's a miscarriage of justice, and when your father reaches home from India he'll i move Heaven and earth to put you right. But he can't be here for a month, and you must make the best of things. As" to what you did to the Colonel, that may by wonderful good luck be overlooked. It seems to me it was a common assault, and if he doesn't prosecute no steps ne'fed be taken." "If he prosecutes I'll telL the world the real story of his disgrace," said Hedley. "I have the whiphand of him now, and he fears me. I ought never to have let ideas of honour trouble me when a creator© like him was concerned." "Well, well," urged Whittingham, pacifically, "don't worry now, you must get to Southport. I'll put you in good hands, and run over as often as I can get leave." "You can do no more," said Hedley, gratefully. " I'm in your hands ; I should be a brute to go against your wishes." It was a week after this that the " Gazette " gave its message to the world concerning Hedley. Wbittingham. was with him when he read the extract in the next day's "Times." He had known that this must come, and yet when he saw the bold announcement he suffered with a keenness that he had not felt even when the finding of the Court was first made known to him. It was long before he could compose himself to speak to Whittingham. "They might have let disease and fate do their work, Charlie," he said, "instead of bringing me to this. I was lost before even the court-martial sat. All men are not so merciful as you, God help me." "Don't trouble, Arthur, you'll soon be right with the world. Try and rest a bit— you need it, and you can't mend matters by worrying yourself. Martin will be coming soon to see you. I have sent specially for him. You remember Martin? He had a taste of the Service before resigning and beginning private practice." " I wish to Heaven I'd sent in my papers long ago, then I could never have come to this. I wouldn't mind so much for myself — I could get over the d'srrace of it ; but thank of the family name and fathpr's feelings. H"vr tiiev'Jl ta'k at him when he nets b ; ';ck tn England, and j>ow tliev'l' foirn pity for bim, though all the lime they're thinking of th» oOWice of which his son has been found rtiiltv." T3u: rick man ra'pecl l;;]nß<-!f in hi* bnA and inoVe-i ear-s'l" <T '-is frm 1. '• n- ~ T . 1 c." he Fa.H, " r HI yr-it once n.c?i : ' T toH tfo." c-v.rt fih't T'm m-f aH/iv. '• I :e!l b-'ck nov an ' hn>..iUu-M my 1- ' I wouli sar '.'uv • n--- nvrr £ w'.l;\ tlw. world will kn---w t 1 n tnnh. :v>:l vjfj >-.<> how an innocent officer was cashiered for W. STRANGE AND CO.'S good tailoring for fit, style and value is unequalled.

n crime he never did. /You don't balieve I'm guilty f ! "1 couldn't be a friend of yours if I did." "And you'll tell father you dont, and tell h:m 1 denied the charge with my last breath — :ii- his son and as a. man of honour?" "I piv-mise ■'a.i.thfully." "If I had been guilty I would have died lilc3 a dog in souis secret place, and would h.TfO: been burk-ci in a- nameless .grave. -I would have destroyed every trace of my identity, would have dropped cut of'tha world's life as you know it and I know it." said the sick man, fervently. " You . beliera me when I say that. Charlie?" " I do, Arthur." " And I should have deserved to die a deata like that. But I didn't do it. Even the President of the Court was dead against nle, and the witnesses lied. -Untruths and forgery have dono their work, -and the army's cast me off far ever." J . . .He. sank exhausted upon the pillow, but' tapped his wasted hands feebly upon the counterpane. . " Don't rack yourself like this," pleaded his friend. " Try and be a little calmer. You're bothered and upset, and cant afford to worry." " What do they air of me in the regiment 1" ssked Hedley, ignoring his eomxade's words. . " The regiment is kinder than tho Court. I'm sure that in their hearts most of them belisve you're innocent." " That makes the burden not so hard to bear, doesn't it?" " Beyond all question." "If I were ever strong and well again I'd walk unflinchingly into the amt-e-Toom it-self. And I couldn't do that af I were guilty. I couldn't face the. Colonel and the rest." "You'll live to show the world how •wrong it is concerninn^yom 1 own case." "I- wish- 1 should ; Vut make no mistake, I -can't. One lung's gone, and the other's following it. I'm cherishing; no hope of th"nt*scrt. All I want-to do is to set myeelf right before my .fellow men." • " You'll have a better chance cf doing that the more you rest,'' said Whittingham, with gentle firmness. " And as I'm yonr nurss for the time you must obey me and keep quiet until Martin comes." Hedlsy sighed and held his peace. • Whittrngham walked quietly to the window and looked over the sea. . ' Hcdley's disease had mastered him completely, and he lay on the bed from -which Bis doctor had prophesied he coidd rise no more. He was as docile now as he was helpless, so far as Whittingham was concerned, but day and night there rankled •within him the sense -of the wrong from which he suffered. He had but one wish, one hope, and that was to live to see his father and put himself right with. him and , vdtti ths world. " Let me do that, Charlie," he sadd for the hundredth -fiime to Whittingham, " and I shall die content." . ; .- 'With the wopdrons hope of a man sucerrnVbing; like himself he clung to the belief that he would .live until what he longed for had been done. "I shall bo spared to see justice done," he said, cheerfully. " Here comes Martin ; We'll see what he says." When the doctor had done his work be bade his patient good-bye. " You'vo always said ' Good-day ' before," Eaid Heclley, quickly. "What do you mean?" .'■■■-,.' " Have I?" answered Martin, confusedly. "I didn't notice. It must have been a clip." .. ' < He spoke lamely, and made a secret signal to Whittingham to join him outside the door. ■ .'..r " He can't live till morning," he whispered. "It's an awful pity." The doctor was a busy man with a growing practice, .and Hedl«y's case poon left his mind when he regained the street. " Your face is a yard long," said Hedley when WMttinnham re-entered the room. "What's the latest?' • "It's fao use hiding the fact; Arthur," replied Whittingham, very gently. "He, cays your case^is serious, very serious." " And how long does he give me?" asked the sick man, with) strange calmness.. "He doesn't name a period," answered' Whittingham, after a wrestle with his conscience, which was a very stubborn one. There was a long pause. Even then Hedley was sinking fast, and the consciousness that all was ending seemed at last to force itself upon him. "I feel very strange, Charlie," he said. " Come and sit by me." Whittingham did so, and took his cornjade's hand. . "Charlie, old fellow," he said, after another pause, "I'm afraid there's no hope. Pm going, and going fast. I .suppose I should have known that even if Martin hadn't been so serious. I don't think I can pull through the night. You needn't "be afraid to tell the truth— isn't that what Martin thinks?" " It is," Whittingham admitted, huskily. Hedley took his hand and pressed it silently. It was a warm firm, grasp that met his own clammy and feeble touch. " Do you think, Charlie, you could do me a last favour?" " Name it," responded Whittingham, ferTentiy. "If it is in human power it shall be done." "It's a matter of conscience with you," proceeded Hedley, with a faint smile, " and I don't know whether you will when you Lear it. You always were such a stickler when conscience and your honour were concerned. But you can tell me safely — where I hope I'm going it's not likely the divulging of the secret would hurt you or benefit anybody. I want you to tell me how the members of the Court voted." Whittingham hesitated for a moment He thought of his oath of secrecy, an oath which bound him not at any time or on any account to reveal the vote or opinion of any member of the Court. He looked at his friend, thought of the wrong that had been done to him, and hesitated no longer. "The President, as you know, was deal against you," said Whittinghnm. "He always hated me because of my father. In that respect he was no better, than the Colonel. All the same, I would have bitten out my tongue rather than have objected to him as a member of the Court. And Major Wilby?" , "He was of the same opinion as th<> President." • ' "Never thought or acted for himself in all his life — always followed his leader," murmured Hedley bitterly. • "He also doesn't count." "Arthington, Whitaker, Chesterton and Baker voted with the President and Wilby." ' " God and their consciences be their judges." " All the rest were for you." "Then it was a majority of one?" " Only one," said Whittingham. " This isn't the time, and I hope I'm not the man to say harsh things. But it was a shabby thing to do to a guiltless man." ' "It was worse than that — it was dis honest and dishonourable," growled Whittingham. " Thank you for that, old fellow," said Hedley, gratefully. Thera was a pause. Hedley stared at the ceiling, and Whittingham looked anxiously upon him. " You'll ttil father?" Hedley asked at | last. | Whittingham thought of his oath again, and hesitated. " He'd be as secret as the grave," Hedley assured him pleadingly. "And it would be an immen.se comfort to him to know that so many believed me innocent." "Yes, I'll tell Win," promised Whittinghtun, quietly, but as one who had giv:a a very serious undertaking. " It" would be the kindest act you ever did, Charlie, Ootli to me and to him. It isn't as if I were guilty." " No," admitted Whittingham. "And he would know that the honour of the two of us -was unsullied. It's never been tarnished yet, thank God ; it never suffered because cf any act of mine. " Then you've been true 'to your trust, said Whittingham, comfortingly. . " Ah, Charlie, if only every member of the Court had been like you !" said Hedley, wistfully. There was a long silence, but it was

broken at last by Hedley saying in a low voice, "Charlie." "Well, old fellow," whispered his comrade. , .•-... " You've made my last journey a good deal easier and brighter than it would have been." ....-■ " Thank God, for that," said Whittingham, devoutly. "It's getting very, very dark, Charlie. Could you turn up the lamp a bit higher?" Whittingham pressed Hcdley's hand a little closer as he answered, ' There's no lamp lighted, Arthur. The sun's streaming into the room.' There was another long pause. " Are you still there, Charlie?" "Yes,"' -was the whispered answer. "Can't you feel my hand?" rt No/' '■ . \ : . . ■"_-'■ '" Can't you see me? I'm looking straight into your eyes." " "No," said Hedley, still ""more' faintly, . although his eyes were fixed upon his comrade's face. "A majority of one," he murmured ; " cashiered— and I never did it, I never did it." A film came over his . eyes, he shuddered gently as a tired man may shudder when he falls into a restful sleep. " Arthur !" • Whittingham called, very softly. ' There was no reply. : " Arthur !" whispered Whittingham again. The silence of the room remained unbroken. For- the last time the watcher breathed the name, and there being yet no answer he withdrew his hand, put the sheet over the reposing face, and then pulled down the blind.