COMPLETE STORY. The Whortley Manor Tragedy.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIII, Issue XXII, 25 November 1899, Page 950

COMPLETE STORY. The Whortley Manor Tragedy.

BY

JOHN EIFFE.

CHAPTER 1. Whortley Manor, an old and pretentious building of the early Georges, surrounded by a well wooded park, and having sonic of the richest land in the country attached to it, belonged to a certain Squire Halloway, wno bore the reputation of being a general admirer of the fair sex, and according to all accounts had to pay dearly in the past for many of his amnions escapades. He was a man about the medium height, rather slight and wiry in figure, with a [tale, almost sallow, face and quiet manner, the very oppo ite to what one would be expected to find in a country squire. Although well on in the forties, he was still a bachelor, but of late his passions had cooled down somewhat, and nothing < f a questionable nature could be spoken against him. Still he lived well, drank deeply, and sometimes followed the hounds, although his ordinary life at the manor house was a solitary < ne. and he seldom or never invited guests there. One day he was pacing up and down a room overlooking the drive, to all appearance ill at ease and perplexed in his mind. The fact was h s old housekeeper, Mrs Rimmer, had left his service that day, owing to age and enfeebled health, and as she had been there for a number of years h * felt her loss considerably. In ad< ition to this, he hated the upset and changes likely to ensue in consequence, and for the first time in his life began to think seriously of marriage. But where was he to find th • desired partner of his joys and sorrows, one who would chime i.i with his way of living and impose no restraints on his ordinary liberty? Ajas! he knew no such idealistic woman amongst those of his acquaintances. Modern teaching and public consent had puffed up all contemporary women with undue notions rebarding their rights and prerogatives, and if there was one thing he hated and feared it was a masculine woman. As he walked to and from thinking these matters over he chanced to look out of the window, when, to his great surprise, he beheld a hansom cao approaching the house, with the figure of a lady inside it. Here was a predicament to be placed in; he had given all the servants except one a fewdays' holiday, and this one was so stupid and deaf that she could not hear the door bell when it rang. He must therefore assume the role of lackey and answer the door himself. When he got downstairs and opened the door he was confronted by a remarkably handsome lady wearing a thick veil and dressed in deep black. "Is Squire Halloway at home?” she asked with a pleasant smile of inquiry, as she lifted her veil. “Yes, 1 am he,” was the answer; “do you want to see me?” “Well, I have called about a vacant situation,” she said; “would you be kind enough to grant me a short interview?” "Certainly; will you step this way? 1 have given my servants a holiday, and have to do all the attendance myself.” When they entered the sitting-room he was greatly struck by the appearance and beauty of his visitor, and could not help fancying that he had seen her face somewhere before. She was a woman about thirty, tall for her sex, with a full well-moulded figure, large dark eyes, and wavy black hair. After handing her a seat and taking one himself, she proceeded at once to say : “My name is Millicent Vipout. and hearing that you were in want of a housekeeper, I have called to apply for the situation.” He was somewhat surprised at this, for no one but his late housekee|>er and himself knew of the vacancy. “May I ask,” he remarked, “how you came by the information? No one but myself and another was aware of the fact, and I have only just despatched an advertisement to the “Times.” “You will excuse me. I am sure,” she sain a little confused, “but J have p.< mised to keep the source of my information a secret.”

“Oh, as to that, it does not matter much,” he said. “Have you filled a similar position before?” “Yes, but only for a short time. My last place was Maple-mount, Kingston, and here are my testimonials from Lady Harpur.” He received the paper, read it over carefully, and then turning towards her remarked, “ 1 see you are the widow of a military officer ?” “ Yes,” she answered sadly, casting down her eyes and remaining silent. “ Have you any family ?” “ No, I am quite alone in the world. We were married on shipboard an ’hour before he sailed. It was his wish that the ceremony should take place before he set out on his fatal expedition. The next thing I heard of was his death.” “ Dear me, how very sad, and yet rather romantic.” He sat watching her with admiring eyes, as she buried 'her face in her handkerchief, overcome by the sad memories the incident recalled. “ Well.” he continued, “ I see no reason why you should not suit me ; in fact, I am greatly obliged by your calling. I want a lady of taste and refinement to take the management of my house, and you appear to be a person well fitted for the position. I am willing to give a liberal salary and impose no restrictions on your mode of conducting matters : in fact, 1 make it a rule of never interfering in household affairs." “ Thank you very much for the compliment. 1 shall do my best to deserve a continuance of your good opinion.” “ Yes. 1 have no doubt you will,” he observed encouragingly. “ But when do you propose coming ? It is now getting late, and the ride back to Tx>ndon is a long one.” “ My boxes are at the station,” she replied. “ I intended stopping at an inn in the neighbourhood had my application proved unsuccessful. I’m a poor traveller and do not like long journeys.” “ In that case there is no reason why you should not remain here to-night. W e have plenty of accommodation, and Ann, the only servant left me, shall prepare a room for you at once.” Without waiting for an answer he went out and told the cabman to bring Mrs Vipont’s luggage to the Manor, and then descending into the kitchen instructed the servant to prepare the best room in the place for his new housekeeper. He felt highly elated at having secured such a beautiful woman to preside over his household. Mrs Rimmer was in the habit of engaging the plainest and oldest servants she could get, doubtless for some good reason of her own, so the fact of having an attractive and lady-like person about the place was a matter of considerable satisfaction and pleasure to him. Soon after Mrs Vipont was shown to the room prepared for her, and left to her own resources until the dinner hour arrived. She could not but feel flattered at the manner of her reception, and the success which attended her efforts so far. No woman is ignorant of her own [lowers or the effect, which her personal charms produce, so she was fully aware of the influence she had already established over the mind and feelings of the impressionable squire. But. instead of a smile of conscious triumph, the look that came into her eyes when left alone was that of offended pride and humiliation. The outlines of her handsome face hardened, and her dark eyes flashed angrily as she remembered his passionate glances, and the attentions she was likely to receive from one bearing the character which he did. “ But I must go through it now,” she observed resolutely to herself ; “ The ordeal may tax my powers beyond endurance, but what matter if I succeed. Fear and terror are the rods to bring such natures into subjection, and be sure 1 shall not spare either when the opportunity presents itself.” Her luggage had not returned before dinner was announced, so she had. therefore, to appear at the table in her travelling costume. The closefitting rolie of black silk wh'ieh she wore seemed to enhance the perfect proportions of her well-moulded fig-

ure ; whale she had been busy during the interval before dinner in heightening every charm, and arranging her hair to the best advantage. The Squire was on his best behaviour during the meal, but nevertheless his admiring eyes were continually turned towards her, and it was as much as he could do to keep his remarks and compliments within the proper bounds of decorum. The servant, Ann, attended them at table, but as she was stupid and deaf there were no restrictions placed on the conversation. “ What a splendid brooch that is you wear,” remarked the Squire, pointing to a jewelled ornament on her breast, which flashed and gleamed at every movement of her body. “ Yes, it's a present of my late husband’s.” she said : “he gave me an injunction that I should always wear it.” “ How very singular ! I should think it would be risky to wear it in strange company. Such a valuable trinket might excite the cupidity of the envious. May I look at it, madam ?” “ Oh, yes,” she answered, drawing a small stiletto from the place, the handle of which was set with brilliants and rubies, and bore a strong resemblance to that of a brooch. A sudden pallor overspread his face when he noticed the nature of the ornament, and after examining it carefully he handed it back with a strange look in his eyes. “Yes, it is certainly pretty,” he remarked, ‘lut at the same time a rather dangerous ornament; don’t you think so?” “Well, on certain occasions it maybe very useful,” was the quiet reply. Soon after th’s she rose from the table, and the Squire opened the door to let her pass out. “I have instructed Ann to attend you in the drawing-room,” he said, “so you will please to remain there until T join you; I 'have only- my afterdinner cigar to smoke.” When she passed out of the room he decanted a fresh bottle of wine, lit his cigar, and threw himself into a chair to think matters over. “By Jove 1 she’s an attractive piece of goods to be sure,” he remarked; “so stand-offish in some things, and so free and easy in others. I never met a woman that made such an impression on me in so short a time. I almost feel inelined to make a plunge for it, and yet it would be wiser in a man of my- years to wait and observe the character she displays. Only- to think she carries a stiletto, and says it may be useful to her on certain occasions. What could she mean by that? Bah! Some sentimental rot about defending her honour. She certainly is a splendid woman, and one of those likely- to make a man forget himself. I’m not. altogether a free agent, however, and marriage might revive certain scandals that I have done my best to hush up. There’s Lilly Watkins, for instance—poor Lily. I was once very fond of her, but she’s dying of consumption and a broken heart, they say. A man in my position could not marry a peasant’s daughter; it was an unfortunate day that we ever met. Then there’s that affair of Florrie Markham, but money can soothe her disappointed feelings. Whether the brat belongs to me or not I suppose he’ll have to be looked after. How I escaped so many- breaches of promise and other entanglements I can’t say, but I was always careful to evoid third parties, and never committed myself to writing. I don’t think the new women of the present day could be dealt with so easily.” By this time he had emptied his last glass, threw the stump of his cigar avyay, and rising to his feet surveyed himself critically in the mirror. "-Y° erow’s feet or other signs, of age about you yet, old man,” he muttered complacently. “By Jove! you look as fresh and hearty as you did ten years ago. A fellow with your appearance ten thousand a year, and this mansion, ought to marry the finest woman in the land.” He twirled his darkish moustache, passed his hand lightly through his sparse locks, and then took his departure to join the new housekeeper. In the meanwhile Mrs Vipont had scribbled out a sort note, which she gave to the cabman to post on his wayback. The contents of this note were as follows:—“He is the man, sure enough. I am now installed as housekeeper at the manor. Come at once and arrange what is best to be done.” The servant Ann looked very black

and out of temper on account of the extra work thrown on her hands. It was plainly evident that she had taken a great antipathy to the new comer, and her ill-disguised rudeness at the dinner table was only restrained by the presence of her master. She was a woman of fully fifty years of age, large boned and muscular in appearance, and with one of the plainest of the plain faces among Mrs Rimmer’s protege. She had been employed at the place for over a year, but, being a person of silent habits and uncommunicative ways, no one troubled themselves much about her antecedents. On the third night after Mrs Vipont's arrival, and that preceding the day when the other servants were expected to return, Ann, who had been absent from the place for some hours, hurriedly letarned in a state of great excitement, her eyes red and swollen through weeping, and her general appearance indicating sorrow and perturbation of mind. The hour was about ten o’clock, so throwing her shawl aside and wiping the tears from her eyes, she seized a lighted candle and proceeded towards the drawingroom for the purpose of showing the new housekeeper to her sleeping chamber. This mark of respect was undertaken in accordance with her master’s instructions. When she reached the door she had to knock several times before receiving any answer. She could hear loud and angry voices within, but was unable to catch the meaning of the words uttered. At last Mrs Vipont herself opened the door, looking very flushed and excited, and apparently annoyed at the interruption. “Oh, it is you, Ann,” she remarked rather testily. “I have no need of your attendance to-night, you can go to bed if you like.” After which she closed the door abruptly, leaving the servant to retire to her own quarters with an ominous

look of anger and suspicion in her eyes. Next morning, shortly after the sun had risen above the horizon, Mrs Vipont was suddenly awakened from her sleep by hearing a strange cry and something like a disturbance in the lower part of the house. She rose immediately from the bed, threw some clothes hurriedly about her, and stole quietly downstairs to ascertain the cause. On reaching the first landing she discovered the servant standing before the drawing-room door, gazing at some object within the room with a strange expression oi fear and hatred in her face. .Stepping quickly up behind her, she glanced over her shoulder, but could observe nothing to account for her fierce looks and startling attitude. Within the room the lamp was burning low, the Squire lay back in his armchair, apparenly sleeping, his face turned away, while on the table before him a half empty tumbler of spirits could be seen, several loose papers, an open book like a diary, and some writing “What has happened, Ann?" she inquired eagerly, raising her voice so that the other could hear her. Ann started back suddenly with an exclamation of fear; then discovering who it was, she turned round angrily and regarded her with a look of concentrated bitterness and contempt. “Don t dare to s'hout at me in that way,” she said, fiercely; “1 have the use o. my hearing as well as you. If you want to know what has happened, step into the room yourself and find out.” Somewhat surprised at the woman’s words, she entered the room, glanced around it curiously, but could discover nothing particular to excite her suspicions; at least so it would appear from her collected manner and undisturbed demeanour. “Now, that you are there,” continued Ann, with malicious irony, “had you not better awaken your sleeping sweetheart; he may be able to satisfy

your curiosity. 1 warrant he'll not be the least offended —only too delighted to have a fine London lady like you near him. 1 wish you joy of your conquest, but all the same you'll have to remain in his company until I return." With that she pulled the door to with a loud bang, locked it securely on the outside, and then, putting the key in her pocket, hastened from the place like one half demented. CHAPTER 11. When she got outside the building, instead of turning down the drive she struck out across the park, and hurried along as fast as her feet could carry 'her. Surely something must have unsettled her mind, or she would never have conducted herself in the manner she did towards the housekeeper. That lady had only to inform the Squire of what had 'happened, and the next instant she would be summarily dismissed from the place. When Ann had gone a short distance she looked back at the house and shook her fist threateningly at it. “I wonder if she has aroused the Squire yet to tell him how I insulted her," she said, with a grim smile. "Ha. ha. ha! I care so much about the Squire or what he can do. 1 have left the cursed place for good and shaken its dust off my feet, so you'll have to wait a long time for my return. Millicent Vipont. You may try to make your escape, but you’ll find it more difficvilt than you suppose: the door cannot be unfastened on the inside, and underneath the window is a deep area surrounded by spiked railings. Yes. jump if you dare, and get your self impaled on the railings below.” After running and walking for nearly an hour, she approached at length a solitary cottage which was some distance beyond the limits of the park. Then she at once relaxed her pace and endeavoured to recover her breath and calm her agitation. The fierce, relentless expression in her face gave

place to a look of extreme sadness aud grief, aud she quickly dashed the tears away that were welling up iu her eyes. Opeuiug a little wicket before the cottage, she passed up the footway, leading to the entrance, on each side of which was a neglected plot of garden overgrown with weeds. Arriving at the door she paused and listened breathlessly, then taking courage lifted the latch and entered. Within the living room or kitdien everything looked tidy and shipshape, but there seemed an unnatural quietness about the place and not a sign of living thing. She crossed the floor towards a partly opened door on the left-hand side and passed into a sleeping chamber, where a beautiful young woman was lying on a bed in the last stage of consumption. Iler large eyes appeared wide open, and the wasted hands were spread motionless above the white counterpane. Ann burst into a flood of tears as soon as she saw her, and, throwing herself down beside the bed, seized the wasted hands and pressed them fondly to her lips. “Oh. my darling, my darling!" she cried, between her sobs, “I was so terrified at the stillness when I entered that I thought all was over. But no. you could not leave me yet—you could not depart from your broken-hearted mother without a last embrace.” The sick girl turned her face towards the other with a smile of ineffable sweetness. "No, mother, I was waiting for you,” she said, gently; “I could not leave this world without bidding you good-bye, you have been so good, so kind, so forgiving, but listen, dearest." here t'he look of happiness that came into her eyes recalled all the beautv of her youth and the brighter memory of the past—“the Squire has been here. I knew he would not let me depart without calling to see me. He looked —oh. so sad and distressed, but never uttered a single word. I think

he is heart-broken because I’m about to leave him.” Ann sprang to her feet with a dark anti forbidding frown, but this was immediately changed into pity and commiseration, at the pained expression of her daughter. “Hurtt, darling,” she said; “it’s only fancy; you’ve simply dreamt it.” “No, mother, I’m positive I saw him. I was wide awake at the time, and the lamjx was shining clearly. He passed into yonder room, with his face buried in his hands, but 1 'have watched ami waited for hours, but he never ret urned.” Her daughter seemed so convinced that Ann cast a nervous glance at the door, while a shadow of mystery appeared to gather on her brow. “ Will you grant me a last favour, mother ?” proceeded the girl, looking wistfully at her ; “ I know you never liked him—l know you hated him, but, for my sake, will you enter that room and tell him that T want to speak to him. I should like us to be reconciled before I go.” The mother looked almost fiercely at her daughter for a moment ; then recovering herself she took a seat at the bedside and addressed her thus : — “ Listen to me, Lily ; I will do what you ask after you have heard what I am now about to read. This sheet of paper is a leaf torn from his diary, and was written at midnight yesterday, and this other is a printed slip cut from one of the newspapers published in London.” 'rhe girl's curiosity was at once aroused, so she consented to do as the mother asked, while she kept her eyes at the same time fixed steadfastly on the door mentioned. “ Before you leave this world,” continued the' other, “ I think it only right that you should know the true character of the man you have so fatally loved.” A long drawn sigh of pain from the invalid followed this. “Bear in mind, what I am going to read was only written about six short hours ago. Now listen— ’ es, I have determined to marry Millicent Vipont; she is the only woman who has ever inspired my heart with true feelings of love. All the others were playthings — the seductive objects of my wild and uncontrollable passions. Had they shown a proper respect for themselves, perhaps all these troubles and heartaches might have been avoided. After marriage we will travel abroad forsome years, and by the time I return to the 'manor everything shall be forgotten. Lily will be dead. and Florrie married and done with. I shall provide for the son of the latter, and of course defray the funeral expenses of the former. I picked up to-day another of those letters from Lily craving a last interview. But why should I go near the foolish girl and thus compromise myself. She has no living relatives, and I know from her promises that she has told no one of our connection. Who then is it that places these letters in my way—some of the servants in the manor. I'll swear ? However. 1 have instructed Millicent to pack them all about their business, and engage an entirely' new staff of hands for the future. I have no sooner got rid of one ditlieiilty than another crops up. Here are those infernal newspapers again raking up the incidents of the buried past. One cannot live quietly' in an out of the way place like this without being the subject of their comments and suspicions. 1 am almost afraid to take up a paper latterly. but all the same 1 am glad they have come into my hands ; forewarned is forearmed.’ “ This is what the slip of newspaper contains,” she proceeded, without casting a look at her daughter -“‘A strange story comes from Kingston. .Jamaica, which a correspondent has been good enough to send us. About twenty years ago two young clerks, employed by an English firm there, went out for a sail in the harbour. They had not gone far, however. before a sudden squall overtook them, and the boat becoming unmanageable one .of tliem, a strong swimmer, proposed to make for the nearest point of land and send out assistance to his companion. This youth's name was Walter Pritchard, and that of his companion Aaron Halloway. The former succeeded sure enough in reaching land, but instead of acquainting those on shore of the imminent danger of his friend, he simply went home to his lodgings, changed his wet clothes, and remained within doors under the pretence of being ill. Some days afterwards, however, the l>oat was discovered, keel up-

permost, and the general consensus of opinion was that the missing youth had ]>erished. This was no sooner known than Pritchard, who appeared inconsolable at the loss of his friend, packed up his luggage, resigned his situation, and took a passage in the next outgoing steamer for Rugland. A young girl named Agnes Rutter, acquainted with both young men, swore that she saw them enter the boat together, and could not be persuaded otherwise, although Pritchard denied it point blank. It has leaked out, however, that a rich landowner, in the Midlands, an uncle of Halloways, had died some time before the event, leaving the whole of his property to his nephew. By some means Pritchard got to know about this, and kept the knowledge a secret from his companion. It is even suggested that the sail was undertaken for the purpose of getting rid of the heir, so that the other might return to England, personate his friend, and take possession of the property. This appears plausible enough when it is understood that the two young men were about the same age, remarkably alike in appearance, and well acquainted with each other’s antecedents. But the strangest part of the story remains to be told. After a period of nearly twenty years Aaron Halloway turned up again at Kingston. Most of the people who knew him in his youth were dead and gone, but Agnes Rutter, who is now a widow, recognised him at once. He appears to have been picked up at sea, taken to Buenos Ayres, and there succeeded in getting a lucrative appointment in a merchant’s oilice. He wrote several times to Pritchard, but the letters were all returned, so he was forced to believe that his former friend had lost his life while attempting to reach the shore. At this point the story ends for the present, but we understand that Halloway, accompanied by his lady friend, is now on his way to England, and before many weeks are over we may have some startling revelations of the Tichborne order to place before our readers.’ ” When Ann had finished reading she turned towards the sick girl with a grim smile of satisfaction on her face. But she had no sooner rested her eyes on the motionless form than her countenance changed at once, and she gave utterance to one of those wild, heartrending screams that sends a thrill of pity to the hardest heart. Yes, the poor betrayed girl had passed away at last —the struggling spirit had taken its flight, and nothing now remained but the pale, worn face, still beautiful in its repose, the parted lips, lustreless eyes, and white wasted hands, almost transparent in appearance. The grief-stricken mother pushed back the thick masses of dark brown hair, kissed the smooth brow and silent lips again and again, while the echoes of her distracted cries startled the silence that reigned over the place. After a time the nurse in attendance on the girl returned to the cottage. She had been to the nearest town for some medicine, but did not anticipate that the end was so near. When she entered the place Ann appeared ealm and resigned ; the wild tempest of her sorrow had passed away. She stood up, wrapped her shawl closely about her, and then said to the nurse that she would be baek again soon. In the meantime ths servants had returned from their holiday, and were somewhat surprised to find the Manor house deserted. At length the cries and moans of someone in the draw-ing-room attracted their attention. The gardener and some men employed in the grounds were at once called in, and the door forced open. When the blinds were drawn back and the daylight allowed to enter a terrible scene met heir gaze. The Squire was lying baek in his ehair with every appearance of having been murdered : his face was ghastly pale, splashes of blood could Ik* seen on his shirt front and waistcoat, and immediately over the region of the heart was a small punctured wound, from which a stream of blood had flowed and collected at the foot of his chair in a congealed pool. Beside this was a small dagger with a jewelled handle, which had evidently been the instrument used on the ocasion ; while huddled away in the farthest corner of the room was a partly-dressed woman, crying and moaning piteously, her dark hair tossed and dishevelled, and

her large eyes staring from her head in the wildest terror. The strange woman, owing to her excited condition, could offer no explanation of what had occurred. She was therefore removed to another room and a strict wateh kept over her until the police and doctor arrived. The terrible tragedy created the greatest excitement in the neighbourhood, and there were many who averred that the dead Squire had only received his just deserts. His reputation was well known, and with the usual exaggeration in such cases he was saddled witu far more offences than he ever committed. It was the general opinion, however, that the strange woman had inflicted the fatal wound, but whether in self-defence or in revenge for some former injury it was impossible to say. The small dagger stained with blood was proved to belong to her, while her unaccountable presence at the manor looked, to say the least, mysterious and suspicious. However, as she was now laid up with a severe attack of brain fever, all chance of arriving at an approximate solution of the mystery had to be abandoned for the present. The inquest, which was held soon after the discovery, had to be postponed likewise until sufficient evidence was forthcoming and the police had completed their investigations. On the same day that Squire Halloway was interred, poor Lily Walkins was also laid in her last restingplace. After the funerals were over, a document was handed to the chiefconstable of the district, which proved to be nothing less than a full confession of the erime. This is what the document contained : — “ Walter Pritchard the false Squire of Whortley Manor, and the betrayer of many innocent girls, has received the just punishment of his crimes by my hand. That designing woman, Millieent Vipont, had nothing to do with it, although she was the indirect, means of hastening its execution. I used her dagger for the purpose, not with the intention of incriminating

her, but because I found it accidentally in her dressing-room when the murderous fit was upon me. The scoundrel had promised marriage to my daughter, ruined her peace of mind and then cast her off to die of a broken heart. Shame and grief prevented her fropi appealing to the law for redress, but I determined to avenge her notwithstanding. Remember she was my last and only remaining child, the treasure of a widowed mother's heart, the light and sunshine of my deserted home. Oh, God, what I suffered when the truth was first flashed upon my mind. But I must not revert to that period. The bare remembrance would drive me mad. I entered his service under a fictitious name, pretended to be deaf and stupid, and waited my opportunity with the fixed purpose of one of the fabled Fates. No one knew of my relationship with his victim, and no one suspected me for anything but a harmless and hardworking woman. What remains to be told is written in blood, pointed by the dagger of outraged innocence and inspired by the wild vengeance of a heart-broken mother. My body will be found in the lake near the manor-house, and I have only one last request to make—that my remains may be laid in the same grave with my darling and her baby, ‘ where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.’—-Ann Watkins.” There is little more to add to this story, save that the real Aaron Halloway regained possession of the manorhouse property, and Millieent Vipont, who was no other than Agnes Rutter, recovered from her dangerous illness and in time was married to the new’ squire and became the mistress of the place. In the diary written by Pritchard, and which he was careful to keep under lock and key, a full acknowledgment of the fraud was afterwards discovered. It is supposed that the unfortunate Ann entered the draw-ing-room while he was asleep, read over the papers already mentioned, and then in the excitement of the moment committed the rash act.