"The Other Man’s Crime,"

Wairarapa Daily Times, 18 January 1933, Page 7

"The Other Man’s Crime,"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

CHAPTER XXIII. —Continued. “You are very kinds, Mr Taverner, hen wliat advice would you give me? ’ ’

'“I should go straight home to Bolivia and carry on. Write to Miles, but don’t give any hint that you know what has happened to him. His sentence is even years, but with his remission he will be free in a little more than five, and then be able to return to you —still a young man. That is my advice, Miss Drake.” Stella rose. “Thank you," Mr Tavener. I will think over what you have said. And now I must be getting back.” “Are you returning to London tonight?” “No, I am staying in Exeter.’ “Then let me drive you back.” Stella shook her head.

“I have hired a car, thank you.” “May I call on you in London? I am going up very shortly.” “I shall be glad to see you,” said Stella. “I am, at Anson’s Hotel.” She gave him her hand, and since lie could think of no excuse for keeping her longer, he had to let her go. CHAPTER XXIV.—<BAD DAYS FOR STELLA. Miles in prison l ! Miles in Dartmoor, of all dreadful prisons! All the way back to Exeter Stella could think of nothing else. Miles had'been her hero ever since she, could remember, her big brother. Always he had been good to her. She remembered how often he had carried in heavy pails of water, how he had got up early and lit the fire for her, how one year he had gone off and worked hard for a week, breaking horses for a rancher in the valley, so as to make money to buy her a Christmas present. And now when sentenced! to spend the best years of his life in penal servitude his one thought had been to save her from grieving over it.

A little sob escaped her, but slie •stiffened anad resolutely refused to give way to tears. Miles had always helped her, now she must help him. The question was how to do it. Maurice had advised her to pretend ignorance and go home again, but the very idea of doing such a thing was repulsive to Stella. No, indeed. She must see him, cheer him up, tell him that she believed in him. The question was how to see him. Full of such thoughts, she found herself back at the Clarence,. Without even waiting to take her hat off she went to the telephone and rang up the prison. The voice that answered was gruff but not unkind. It was that of the warder at the gate, and from him she heard that she must apply to the Governor for a permission and that she ‘would then be told when and how she .could see the prisoner whom she wished to visit. At once she wrote her letter to .the Governor, asking that a reply might be sent to her at Exeter. The next day dragged terribly. Sire did some shopping and wrote a long letter to her father, telling him everything. It was on Tuesday that she had written. Promptly on Thursday morning came a formal reply to her letter, with a permission to visit the prisoner, Milesi Hedlev, on the following day at three in the afternoon. How Stella got through the next 24 hours she hardly knetf, but Friday found her driving to Primeetown.

The weather had changed. 'Storms of sleet lashed the high moor and Stella’si heart sank as her car carried her up the last step hill to- Prince-town. The Black brook roared in yellow flood, hardly a soul moved in the long, wet street of ugly houses which make up the dreary village. The car pulled up opposite the grim granite arch which.is the entrance to the prison, and Stella, brave outwardly but shivering inwardly, presented her passport to a blue-clad warder and was ushered through’ - the inner gate into the immense yard in which the bleak looking “kalis” -tower like factories, their thick granite walls pierced with scores of narrow cell windows!, A heavy door was unlocked, and she went up bare store steps into a small room furnished very simply with a plain deal table and two chairs.

In old days a double grating ran all across this room and the prisoner and his visitor had to stand on opposite sides of it. and talk through it, but now that horror has been done away with.

‘‘Sit down, miss,” said the warder. “The prisoner will be brought in presently. You must understand that I have to remain in the room during your interview, but,” —he smiled in kindly fashion —-“I shan’t need to listen too closely. ’ ’ Stella gave him a look of gratitude. “You are very kind,” she told him, then a door opposite opened. “Miles!” cried Stella, springing to her feet find giving Miles both hands.

“My dear,” was all he said, and for some- moments the two stood silent, gazing at one another. “You’re not surprised, Miles,” said Stella presently. “You expected me.” “I got your letter. . I knew you were coming. I cabled to stop you, but it was too late. ’ ’ “ You didn’t want me to come?” “Of course not.” Miles’s voice was bitter. “To see me like this! But how did you find me? Bartlett didn't tell you. ’ ’ “Xo, he was away.’ 3l

‘ ‘ Away ? ’ ’ “That’s what his cleTk told me. So* then I went to see your cousin Maurice.”

“Did he tell you?” asked Miles sharply. “Yes.” Miles’s face darkened. “The swine!” lie exclaimed, and the ill-re-pressed fury in his voice absolutely terrified Stella. She drew back a little. “What is it, Miles? What do you mean? What is there between you and Maurice Tavener ” CHAPTER XXV.—“TIME IS HP.” For the moment Miles boiled with .suc-h anger that he was on the very edge of blurting out the whole truth and telling Stella exactly what part Maurice had had in bringing him to his present state. Then with an effort he pulled himself up. He had taken Maurice’s money to keep his mouth shut, and, if Maurice had not the decency to keep his word, that was no reason why he. Miles, should also perjure himself. Stella, watching anxiously, saw how his face worked, but put it down to his indignation at Maurice’s perfidy. “I had to know sooner or later.” she urged. “If Maurice had not told

BY T. C. BRIDGES. (Author of “The Stolen Masterpiece,” “The Gold Magnet,” “The 1 Price of Liberty,” etc).

me, I should have got it out of Mr Bartlett.” Miles forced a smile.

•‘■‘l was silly to get so cross,” lie said, “and especially when we have so much to talk about and so little time. Never mind about me. Tell me about yourself. ’ ’ “What can I tell you?” asked Stella.

“Well, I can tell you something,” replied Miles, “which is that you’ve grown up all of a sudden and turned into a woman —a very pretty woman, too, Stella. But I don’t suppose I’m the first to tell you that,” he added with a smile.

“ You arc,” Stella flushed, but it was with eagerness rather than surprise. ‘ ‘ The very first. And —and, Miles, I’m glad, because there’s no one I’d sooner hear it from: that you.” Miles drew his breath quickly. All in a moment it was borne in upon hint how much Stella meant to him. He knew now that all this brother and sister business was at an end, and that he loved her as a man loves a woman — as he only loves one woman. He felt an almost irresistible temptation to! take her in his arms and tell her so. The temptation wag all the stronger because he felt in every fibre of him that her thoughts were the same as his.

Then he remembered that for five—nearly six years he was doomed to live within these grim walls. Was he to ask her to waste the best years of her life -waiting for him? He bit his lips and forced back the impulse. He could not be so selfish as that. Again he forced a smile.

“It’s nice of you to say that, Stella,” he answered lightly. “And how well you dress. But you always had good taste.” “I learnt it from you, Miles,” said Stella.

“Nonsense! It’s in you; it’s part of you. Tell me what your plans are now that the mine is such a success.” “Plans!” Stella’s soft voice had almost a bitter ring. “How can we make plans while you are here? We can only carry on and wait until you are free. ’ ’ Mules raised a hand in protest, “No, Stella, you must not let me spoil your life. You must see the world, travel, enjoy yourself. You can afford a chaperone. ’ ’ Stella’s eyes flashed. She was angry.

“How can you talk such nonsense, Miles? How can I enjoy myself while you are—in this place?” She looked round! with a sort of horror at the grim walls which were visible through the narrow windows. Miles stood silent. He was again struggling with liimself, for every minute he spent with Stella was teaching him more plainly how deeply he loved her, and, modest as he was, that she returned liis love. Yet, again, he took a firm hold of himself, and when he spoke his voice was steady enough.

“Stella, I’m here for another five years, and'there ’s no getting out of it. It. lielpra me tremendously to feel that I have friends like you and your father, but it won’t help me to know that my plight is making you both unhappy. See here—” She cut him -short..

“’Miles, you may argue from now till next week, but it’s no . use. I know you’re here and I know that you are being punished savagely for what, after all, was nothing but an accident, and might have happened to anybody. What I am going to do is to see if we can’t get a new trial.” Miles shook his head.

“That’s no use, my dear. I asked Bartlett and he assured me it was nogood.” The warder spoke suddenly. “I’m sorry, but time is up, and the lady .must- go.” “Oh, Miles!” Stella’s voice was a wail. “How long will it be before I can see you again?” Miles tried to comfort her.

“Not so very long. I can have visitors more often when I gain stage, as they call it. And—and don’t grieve. Remember I’m not badly treated. I get plenty to eat, and I’m not overworked, and the doctor and chaplain are really kind.” He put out his handsto her, but she did not heed them; instead she fixing her arms around his neck and her soft lips were pressed against his. For a moment they clung to one another like two children while the kindly old warder discreetly turned his back. Then Miles himself led her to the door, and presently Stella found herself in the ear again, driving down Princetown’s long, dreary street. Sleet beat against the windows, the wind howled over the bleak hill top, but Stella did not see or hear. Miles’s tortured face was all she could see- -or think of. And so, all alone, she drove back through the stormy afte-rnoon to Exeter. The night mail took her back to London.

CHAPTER XXYI.—CULfLEN AGAIN. Worn out by grief rather than fatigue, Stella slept late next morning, and did not come down till nearly lunch-time. While dressing she had made up her mind to visit Mr Bartlett’s office again and consult his clerk as to the possibility of getting a fresh trial. She was hardly down before a page boy found her. “A gentleman to see you, miss,” he said, and handed her a card on which was printed the name, “Mr John A. Mason. ’ ’

'“Mason,” she read. “I don’t know anvone of that name. Who is he, Jack?”

“I don’t know, miss. I never saw him before, but he’s a smart-looking gentleman. And he’s written something on the back of the card.” Stella turned- it over. “Business connected with Mr Iledley, ” she read, and her eyes brightened.

“I will see him at once, Jack,” she told the boy. “Is there anyone in the writing room?” CHAPTER XXVl.—Continued.

'“Xo. miss. You’ll be quiet enough there,” the. boy assured her. Stella (To be continued.)