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Me Author of “A Woman's Crime,” “John Arthus’s Ward,” “The Lost we
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a Witness, A Slender Ciue,” “Dangerous Ground,” yc
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(Continued) " : @ \ ven, ° , ‘
“Never My lips are unsealed from | you. Will You just step intO the’ nearess this he since you have dared to claim | saloon with me. We will talk over a glass and take a s in my fate, and since I | of something.” have not the courage to put so much | Wonderingly at his coolness, Belknap happiness from me followed the stranger, and they exutered
“Supposing it in your power?’’ ‘*Old Forty Rods,’ that being the nexrest
“Oh, i know better than to cope with a," smiling upon her fondly. ‘*But my honor must be vindicated for your gracious
sake, and—I must cease to be,’ with a sidelong glance, ‘‘ ‘Doctor Heath, from nowhere.” Sit down, darling; our janitor | jgan accommodating fellow; he will not interrupt, nor shorten your stay, I am | sure. I want to tell yqu my story. It is yours. together with all my _ other gecrets.*”
She put up her hand, quickly.
“Not now,’’ she said. ‘‘Not for a long time. I prefer you as I have known you; forme, you shall still be ‘Doctor Heath, from nowhere.” Don’t remonstrate; I will have it so; I will Mr. O'Meara to you, and that odd Mr. Wedron; you shall tell them all about yourself.”
“You will go to them? Constance, no: for your own sake, let us keep our love a secret for a time; until this is somehow. much it would spare you.”’
She turned toward him,
send
her mouth
ended, | rhink, my proud darling, how
|
settling into very firm lines, a resolute | Jook in her eyes. “Would it spare you anything?’’ she
asked, quietly. “JT? Oh, no. It is sacrifice for me; but, Iwish tc have it so. You must not visit
me here. You must not let gossip say she has thrown herself away on an ad- yenturer."’
“I won't,’’ she replied, -sententiously; “I'd like to hear of anybody saviag that! I'd excommunicate them, I’m going to close the mouths of gossips, by setting my seal of proprietorship upon you. I’m coming here every day; but, after this, I'll bring Aunt Honor, or Mrs. O'Meara with me. I’m going to say to every soul who names you to me: ‘Doctor Heath is my affianced husband, defame him if you dare.’ And I'm going straight to tell Mr. O'Meara that he must take your testi- mony against Frank Lamotte.”’
Constance Kept her word. Before many days, the town rang with the news that Constance Wardour, in the face of the accusttion against him, had announced her engagement to Doctor Clifford Heath.
Then a hush fell upon the aristocratic gossipers of W—,gnd mischeivyous tongues
were severely bridled. It was not wise to
censure too freely a man whom the heir- essof Wardour had marked with her favor.
The lawyers found their client ina
mood much more to their liking, and |
O'Meara scribbled down in his book long sentences caught from the lips of Clifford Heath, who was now a strong helper, and apt In suggestions for the defense.
He opened for them the sealed up pages of his past life.
He told them in detail, all that he had briefly stated to Constance, concerning Frank Lamotte. and more.
Every day now they were in close con- fultation, and every day the Wardour carriage drove at a stated hour, first to Mapleton, where it took up Constance, and then to the prison, where. accompan- ied by her aunt, or her guardian’s wife, the heiress passed a half hour in the cell of her lover.
She still clune accumulating
ta the
evidence
hope that the against Frank Lamotte mi, ht break the chain that bound him, +nd open his prison doors; but, one day, a week after her first visit to the prison. Mr. O’Meara dashed this hope to atom:.
“We can bring no criminal accusation against Lamotte,’ he said. ‘‘The exam- mation proved that John Burrill was Killed as earty as eleven o'clock that
s . . . | Rigth, ar investigation has proven that '
Lamotte remained at home all that even- ing, and was heard moving about in his foo until after midnight. I’m terribly serry, Constance, but the case stands Just about as it did at first, and the odds are still against Heath. He will have to Stand his trial.’’
The girl’s heart sank like lead, and as the Gays passed on and no new develop- ments could be evolved from a case which
kan to assume a most gloomy aspect, her position in the Lamotte household
Ine unbearable.
Syhil had changed a very little, but for the better. Her fits of raving were less
“quent, and almost always to be antici- Pated. So, worn in body and tortured in itind, Constance went back to Wardour, and, save for her daily visits to the pri- 60h, was in visible to all her friends.
And she did not suffer alone. Know- ing her love for Clifford Heath and the terrible secret she carried tn her bosom,
- Lamotte lived in an anguish of sus- Pense. Would love outweigh honor? If the worst should come, could she trust panstance Wardour? Could she trust her-
In those tortured hours, the same Prayer went up from the heart of toth mother and friend—that Sybil Lamotte Would da!
While these things were making the World a weartness to Constance, Jerry “tianap, in his character of prospecting
irc jockey, took up his quarters in «a
rie hotel near the river, and re
verr cuiet im fancied security,
— he became suddenly enlightened as © te cause of his ill success, as follows: unging rear the hotel one day, he = accosted by a stranger, who tapped m familiarly on the shoulder, sayine:—
ts he I as sd “SS. Vee est award to sav to
a Space
| weather
saloon.
Once seated face to face at a table. the stranger threw a letter across to Belknap, saying carelessly :—
‘Read that, if you please.”’
Opening the letter, these lines stared Belknap in the face:—
‘“You have broken your pledge, Jerry Belknap. I have had you. under my eye constantly. Fortunately for yourself, I ean make use of you. Follow the instruc- tions of the bearer of this to the letter now and until further notice, if you hope for any mercy from BATHURST.”’
He stared at the open letter as if it possessed the eyes of a basilisk.
Instantly he recognized the hind the scenes, and was no longer sur- prised at his failures. And he turned upon his companion a look of sullen sub- mission.
“I Know better than to hick against Bathurst,’’ he said doggedly. ‘‘What does he want me to do?’’
“That's just what we are going to talk about,’ said the stranger, coolly. ‘“Draw your chair up closer, Jerry.’’
power be-
CHAPTER XL.
Over days, filled with weary waiting and marked by few incidents and no dis- coveries, We pass with one glance.
Clifford Heath’s trial follows close upon his indictment. A month rolls away, and with the first days of winter comes the assembling of judge and jury, and his case is the first one called.
During the weeks that have intervened between his arrest and this day of his trial, Constance has been his bravest champion and truest friend; she has stimulated him to hope, and incited him to courage, with loving, cheerful words, while clinging desperately to a last rem- uaz.t of her own sinking hope.
Day by day, during all this~ time, the ancient gig driven by Doctor Benoit, de- posited that gentleman before the deors of Mapleton. Sybil’s delirium had ended in a slow, wearisome fever, which left her, as the first frosts of winter touched the land, a white, emaciated shadow of her former self, her reason restored, but her memory sadly deficient.
She had forgotten that dark phase of her life in which John Burrill had played so sinister a part, and fancied herself back in the old days when her heart was light and her life unfettered. She had dropped a year out of that life, but mem- ory would come back with strength, the doctor said; and Mrs. Lamotte dreaded the days when that memory should bring to her daughter's brow, a shadow never to be lifted; into her life a ghost never to be laid.
Evan, too, had narrowly escaped death at the hands of his rum demons; after four weeks filled with all the horrors attendant upon the drunkard’s delirium, he came to his senses, hollow-checked, sunken eyed, emaciated, with his breath coming in quick, short gasps, and the days of his life numbered.
Brandy had devoured his vitals; late hours and protracted orgies had sapped his strength; constant exposure in all and at all hours had done its work upon his lungs.
“If he outlasts the winter, he will die in the spring,’’ This was the doctor’s ultimatum.
News from ,the outside world Was strictly shut out from those sick ones. The name of John Burrill never was breathed in their presenec, and both were ignorant of the fact that Clifford Heath, an old time favorite with each, was on trial for his life.
The morning that saw Clifford Heath quit his cell to take his place in the felon’s dock and answer to the charge of murder, saw Sybil Lamotte lying upon a soft divan, before a merry wftitér fire. It was the first time since her illness that she had quitted her bed. And Evan, too, for the first time in many weeks, came with, feeble, halting steps to his sister’s room, and sitting near her, scan- ned her wasted features with wistful in- tentness.
‘‘Poor sis!’” he murmured, stroking her hand softly. ‘‘We’ve had a pretty hard pull, you and I, but we're coming out famously.’’ And then he added to himself, ‘‘ More’s the pity, so far as I am concerned. ”’
‘‘What made you 11], Evan?’ she whis pered feebly. ‘‘Was it worrying about me?’
A bright fiush leaped to his chesks and burned there hotly.
‘*Yes, it was about you, sis. But you will soon be as well and happy as ever, won't you?’’ anxiously.
‘To be sure, Evan; we will beth get well very fast. We have got s0 much tc live for, and we are too young to die.”’
CHAPTER XLL
It ia the opening hour of Clifford Heath's trial.
The coart room is crowded to its ut- most capacity; never has there occurred a trial there so intensely interesting to all W—.
The prisoner is a little paler, a little graver than his ordinary self. But is his ordinary self in every other respect; as proud of bearing. as self-possessed, as hancsome, and disting:c as ever.
Hesiue nim sis Mr. YU Meara arsone. Mr. Wedron, after all his labor, and his seeming interest,is unaccountably absent; unacoountably, at least, so far as the opposition, the prisoner, the judge, jury, and all the spectators are comeerned. “Mr. O’Meara seems not at all disturbed . by his absence, and evidently understands ull about it.
Near the frisoner sits a cuuses & buzz of inquiry to the entire andience.
He is tall, fair haired, handsome; the cartiage of his head, the haugi:iness of his bearing, reminds more than one pres- ent of Clifford Heath, as they -irst knew
ican who run through
him. Heisa stranger to all W—, and “Who is he? Who is he?’ runs from lip te lp.
The stranger is seemingly oblivious of the attention .uavished upon him; ke bends forward at times, and whispers a word to the prisoner, or his counsel, and he turns occasionally to murmur some- thing in the ear of Wardonr, Who sits beside him, grave, stately, calm.
She is accompanied by Mrs. Aliston and Mrs. O’Meara, and Ray Vandyck sits beside the latter lady, and completes the party.
Mr. Lamotte
Constance
is there, subdued, yet
affable, and Frank, too, who is paler than usual, but quite self-possessed. Near the party above mentioned, may
be seen the two city physicians, but. and here is «nother cause for wonderment, Doctor Renoit is not present; and, who
ever knew the gcod doctor to miss an occasion like this?
‘“‘Pusiness must be urgent, when it keeps Benoit away from such a trial,’’
whispers one gossip to another, and the second endorses the opinion of the first.
Sitting there, scanning that audience with a seemingly careless glance, Con- stance feels her heart sink like lead in her bosom.
She feels, she knows, that already in the minds of most her lover is a con- demned man. She knows that the weight of evidence will be against him. They have a defense, it is true, but nothing will overthrow the fact that John Burrill went straight to the house of the prison- er, and was found dead hard by.
All along she has hoped, she knew not what, from Bathurst. But since he re- turned Sybil’s note in so strange and abrupt a manner, she has had no word or sign from him, and now she doubts him, she distrusts everything,
But, little by little, day by day, she has been schooling her heart to face one last desperate alternative. Her lover shall be saved! Let the trial goon. Let the worst come. Let the futai verdict be pro- nounced, if it must; after that, perish the Wardour honor. What if she must trample the heart out of a mother’s breast? What if she must fling into the breach the life of a blighted, wronged, helpless, perhaps dying sister woman?
Hardening her heart, crushing down her pride, she muttered desperately on this last day of doubt and suspense.
‘‘Let them all go. Let the yerdict be what it may, Clifford Heath shall not suffer a felon’s doom !’’
Then she had nerved herself to calm- ness and gone to face the inevitable.
‘‘Prisoner at the bar, are you guilty or not guilty?’ :
The reading of the indictment has turned all eyes upon the prisoner’s face.
He stands erect, his head haughtily poised, his clear dark eyes fixed fully upon the judge.
‘“*T am not guilty, your honar.”’
A murmur runs through the court room. The stranger bends to whisper to Constance. The trial proceeds.
Once again all the evidence brought forward at the inquest is repeated—sworn to—dilated upon. Once again it presses the scales down, down, and the chances for the prisoner hang light in the balance.
One thing puzzles the prosecuting attorney, and troubles the mind of Jas- per Lamotte.
O’Meara, the shrewd, the fox-like—
O’Meara, who never“lets pass a fiaw or a |,
loophole for criticism; who never loses a chance to pick and torture and puzzle a witness, is strangely indifferent.
One by one the witnesses for the prose- cution pass before him; little by little they build a mountain of evidence against his client. He declines to examine them. He listens to their testimony with the air of a bored play-goer at a very poor farce.
After the testimony of the two masons, comes that of the party who last saw John Burrill in life. They testify as they did at the inquest—neither more, nor less.
Then come the dwellers in Mill ave- nue. They are all there but Brooks and Nance Burrill.
‘Your honor,’’ says the prosecuting attorney, ‘‘two of our witnesses—two very important ones—are absent. Why they are absent, we do not know. Where
they may be found, is a profound mys-
tery.
‘‘One of these witnesses, a man called Brooks, we believe to have been especi- ally intimate with the murdered man.
' We think that he could have revealed the
secret which the prisoner took such deadly measures to cover up. This man can not be found. He disappeared shortly after the murder.
‘*Our other witness vanished almost simultaneously. This other was the di- voreced wife of the murdered Burrill. She, too, knew too much. Now I do not in- sinuate—If do not cast any stones, but there are some, not far distant, who could explain these two mysterious dis- appearances, ‘an they would.’ ”’
**An they will!’ pops in the hitherto mute O’Meara, ‘‘They’ll make several knotty points clear to your understand- ing, honorable sir.’’
A retort rises to his opponent's lips, and a wordy war seems imminent, but the crier commands ‘‘Order in _ the Court,’’ and the two antagonists glare at each other mutely, while the trial moyes on.
Frank Lamotte comes uyon the wit- ness stand. As before, he tells nothing new.
He was aware that his brothé¢r-in-law possessed some secret of Doc*or Heath's. Did not know the nature of it, but in- ferred from words Burrill had let drop, that it was of a damaging ¢haracter.
Upon being questioned as to his ac- quaintdnce with the prisoner, and what he knew of his disposition and temper.
% Shortness of Breath, Pleurisy, Tubereulosts
he s¢Tpiles What ue nus KNOWN the prison- er since he first came to W—; liked him very much: never had any personal mis- understanding, :lchough o* late the pri- soner had chosen treat nim with marked coldness.
As to his temper—well, be must admit that it was very ticry.very quickly roused, very difficult to control, he believed. Prisoner was by nature intolerant toa fault. He had shewn this disposition in presence of witness on many occasions.
Being shown the knife found in the cellar, he examines it carefully, and pro- nounces it to be the one he has often seen in Doctor Heath's instrument case, or its precise counterpart.
This ends his testimony. O’Meara has no questions to ask, and Jasper Lemotte takes his son’s place. He is the last Witness for the prosecution.
He has less to say than others.
te had heard of his son-in-law’s en- counter with Doctor Heath, of course; knew that a feud existed between them, could not so much as guess at the nature of it. he prosecuting attorney is about to dismiss him sans ceremonie, when Mr. O’ Meara,springs into sudden activity and announces his desire to examine the witness.
His oppanent stares astonished, a mur- mur runs through the room; the Court bids him proceed.
‘“Mr. Lamotte,’’ begins O’ Meara, rising to his feet with proveking slowness, and taen propounding his questions with » r.pidity which leaves the witness no time for thought. ‘‘Mr. Lamotte, what can
to
any of the
you tell us of this missing witness. Brooks?’ Mr. Lamotte stares in mute astonish-
Trent, then instinctively scenting danger abead, be makes an eort to rally bia
forces that have heen scattered by the lawyer’s unexpected bomb.
““What do 1 knew of the man Brooks?’’ he repeats slowly. ‘I don’t comprehend yeu, sir.’’
‘“‘T asked a plain questicn,’’ retorts the lawyer, crisply.
‘*I believe the man has been in my employ,’’ ventures the witness, as if making an effort to recall some very in- significant personage.
‘*When?’’
“That I do not remember, sir.”’
“‘Ah! Perhaps you have forgotten when last you saw this fellow, Brooks?’’
“I think I saw him, for the last time, two days before my son-in-law was killed. I was at the depot, starting for the city. I think Brooks left town on the same train.”’
‘“*And you have not seen him since?’’
**Not to my knowledge.’’
‘Make an effort to think, sir. Brooks has been seen in W— since.; It is known that he has visited Mapleton. Try to re- cail that visit.”
Mr. Lamotte ponders and falls into the trap.
‘‘A man came to Mapleton on the day of Mr. Burrili’s funeral,’’ he says, slow-— ly. “I believe, -upon refigction, . ‘hat it was Brooks; he wished to sée the body.”’
‘Did you see this man on that ocea- sion?’’
‘*I did; for a moment only, he came to me with his request.’’
‘*You are sure this man was Brooks?’’
‘‘Not beyond a doubt. I was troubled, ami busy. It was one of my factory hands; I think it was the man Brooks.”’
‘“Mr. Clerk,’’ says ©O’Meara, turning suddenly to that funotionary, ‘‘please take down Mr. Lamotte’s statements. He _ .~vot Sure that if wes tne moe Re-hks "'
(To be Continued.)
iDR CLIFT
treats Chronic Diseases by the Salisbury method of persistent self-help in overcom- ing past errors and Removing causes from the blood. Catatrh, Bronchitis, Asthma,
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Graduate of N Y University and the WV Y Hospita). 2) years’ practice in N Y City. Diploma registered in U 8 and Canada
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