GERALD GAINSFORD'S GUILT.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7084, 27 April 1901, Page 4

GERALD GAINSFORD'S GUILT.

STORY OP A MURDER. {Specially written for the "Star."} " Bless my heart and soul alive !" The exclamation was forced from my lips by the terrible appearance of Gerald Gain'sford. We had been school-fellows, and* ha-d played, fought and struggled through the turmoil of school life. Gerald had gone Home to- be a doctor, while I had remained in New Zealand to be a colonial lawyer, with a poor practice. When I had known. Gerald before, his cheeks were fat and rosy, his limb 3 brawny, and his frame strong and bulky. He had always been the best in the school at athletics. It was his boast that he could fight any two other boys at the same time, taking some of them with one hand tied behind ins back. " Bless my heart and soul alive !" I exclaimed when he stopped ms in High Street one day some years ago. "What on earth have you been ■doing to youi-sclf?" His shoulders were bent; his clothes hung loosely on his body, fitting where they touched, as the saying is ; his cheeks wero pale and sunken ; and there was about him an appearance of downright abjection. He took my hand in his, but did not return the pressure, and the smile which played for an instant round the corners of his mouth was a, mournful one. " Doing?" he said', '• oh, merely studying a little. I've given up practice in Cheltenham, and come to the colonies for fresh air. It's a- case of physician cure yourself, you know." I could see that. But I could also see that Gainsford was* not speaking the whole truth, his hesitating inaniter indicating that he did not desire the topic to be pursued. We sauntered slowly •down the street. I talked much about tne glorious times we used to have in childhood. He replied in monotones, and With little or no enthusiasm. His mind was evidently greatly preoccupied. :" ' ' \ ' we became tired of walking. At his suggestion, as dusk was. falling, we turned our steps -towards a small fourroomed house he had recently rented on the North Belt. He told me that he lived alone, as he did nofliks to be 'bothered with feerva&ts and strangers. I was rather surprised at this coming from l*aiinsiord, who used to set the table in. a roar. All the blinds were down in Gerald's house. Its appearance was in keeping with Ms own — dismal and unpromising. Without a word, he opened the door, and we entered a musty room, with sufficient furniture for comfort, though not for luxury. i I stretched myself on a sofa and continued to talk of old days, not taking any notice of Gerald's mproseness, my mind being occupied with my recollections. I was suddenly started by a cry from Gerald, which almost reached to a shriek. " What?" he exclaimed. For 'a moment I forgot what I had betfn speaking about. Then turning round to face my friend, I said — "Oid Morgan, you recollect, he slept in the upper dormitory with us, and afterwards went Home to be a doctor, too. You heard about his murder? By the way, didn't it occur near Cheltenham', where you've been living for thd past few years? You must have heard about it?" "Ah, yes, yes; poor old Morgan! Murdered, murdered! near Cheltenham, too! I recollect, of course. Poor old Morgan! A most unnatural murder." The last remark brought back to my mmd 1 a schoolboy trick of G-ainsford's of interlarding his conversation -with quotations from Shakspere, no matte? whether they were apt or not. He had turned his face to the- window, the biund of which had been drawn down, and was looking out into the night- He was calmer now, his nervous fib living subsided. He kept his back towards me, and continued to gaze through the wmdow, murmuring "Poor Morgan, poor Morgan," in an. absent-minded way. By this time I had begun to take a particular interest in my friend and his queer manner. I turned right round to watch him more closely, as I continued the one-sided conversation. "No clue as to the murderer has ever been found," I said. "None whatever," he interjected quickly, and with more viprour than . the occa r sion seemed to demanJuT "The body was found lying in a cornfield. The poor old fellow seems to have been maed with, som-s sort of fit or convulsion. But I see that lately a small vial was discovered close by, and it is thought " What? • A vial?" Again Gerald's voice shrieked out the exclamation. He turned round so sharply that I started back in alarm. He glared at me with, a kind of frenzied terror. ' " Yes," I repeated, " a round vial, about as thiok as a lead pencil, and four inches long. There were some medicinal tablets in it once, and one or two (remained." He sat down on a chadr, or rather sank upon it, and rested' his head' in his hands. "' They were quite harmless," I went on, "as they were merely a preparation of soda. Morgan bought them at the local drug store." "Yes, yes," he said hurriedly, speaking more to himself than to- me, and raising his head for an instant, " quite harmless, quite harmless." By this time I had become convinced in my mind that my school-fellow was, either in a state of nervous prostration bordering on lunacy, or had taken the sad death of Morgan very much to heart. I felt that it would not be the proper thing for him to remain in that house by himself any longer, and was about to frame an excuse for taking him to live with me, when he arose, and, stretching forth his hand, took mine, saying "Gooa-night, old fellow. Look here, I know I'm upset with this wretched studying ; but don't take any notice. Leave me ncjw, and' I'll soon be all right. I'll see you in the morning. Good-night." He seemedi to be so anxious to be alone that I could not stay. Giving his hand a hearty shake, I begged that he would call at my office in the morning, so that we could make arrangements for a trip to Sumner or New Brighton, and w<!**parted. But I had forgotten that the next day was the beginning of the Supreme Court Civil Sittings. For a wonder, I was as busy as I could be every day for a week. I do not know whether Gainsford kept his appointment or not. I don't think he did. At any rate, his .affairs went out of my mind for several days, until they ware forcibly recalled by a, clipping from a London newspaper sent through the post by a friend. It wa9 embellished by several sensational headlines in large type, including "The Cheltenham Tragedy," "Startling Developments," and. "Murder Will Out." It set forth that a young woman had been admitted to the hospital at Cheltenham suffering from the effects of poison administered by her own hands. She ihad succumbed, but not before she had' made certain statements to the nurses, winch threw a light on the almost forgotten murder of thp late Dr Morgan. The woman had "been a barmaid, it was reported, and stated that the supposed murderer had, under the influence of drink, disclosed to her bhe scheme of a diabolical assassination. She said that he was jealous of Dr Morgan's attentions to her, and deliberately planned his murder. The two men. were, friends, outwardly. One day, in the hotel," they were talking, when Dr Morgan took i glass vial from his pocket and swallowed one of the soda- tablets it contained, .remarking that he took them frequently, as he suffered from acidity, a form of indigestion. The alleged murderer prepared a -duplicate tablet of strychnine.. He reqjiest-

e-d the murdered man to let him have the •nial for «. time, so that he could copy the address of the maker. The unsuspecting man handed it over, and received back the prepared tablet. It was placed, not on top, but under a number of tablets in the vial. The victim, therefore, did not take the poison until two or three days had elapsed, and meantime the alleged murderer went away, so as to be as far from {'he' traged}' as possible. The woman did not give the name of the man. she accused, and expired before any questions could be put to her. A photograph of the woman was reproduced in the .newspaper, side by side with the article. In it she appeared to be very handsome, with large, black eyes and sc-me-wluit striking features— a face which some, men might well fall in lovb with, and which would be likely to make an impression on the minds of all men. Dimly visible in one corner of the picture there tvere some, letters, which, by closer examination, I found tt> be the word "Fanny." The scene in Gainsford's house on the North Belt came rushing to my memory. [ remembered his agitation when the murder was mentioned, Els strange- behaviour, and his shocking mental state. I blamed myself for 'having left him so long, without even an inquiry as to how he was getting on. . I' hastily closed the office, and, calling a, cab, drove 'to the Belt, "There was a doctor's trap in front of Gainsford's house. Knocking gently at the door, I was admitted by the doctor. . , • "Hallo"," he said, in surprise, 'is this a client of yours?" „ , , .v "No; a friend," I replied; what s tne matter?" "Well," he said, "it seems to be a pretty bad case, and he has not much loueer to live. The neighbours tell me that he has been drinking heavily. He is evidently quite out of his mind, talking about murders and all sorts of things. He was picked up yesterday, morning m the rain lyins* close" to his own fence. Pneumonia" has set in, arid life is -dying. I'm afraid you are too late even now. ' ' I went into the room, where Gainsford was lying on the sofa-, amidst his comfortless surroundings. He seemed to recognise me for a moment. I .stretched forth my hand to take his. But he held something in it— held it tightly, and endeavoured to lift *t towards his face, to look at it. As I atooped down to help 'his feeble arm to perform the task I saw that the article be held so tightly was a photograph of the woman who had died in the hospital at Cheltenham, and tho word ;< Fanny " was written across the corner. His "eyes rested upon it for one moment, and the next he had passed away.