Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1885-03-20

|
spoke rooms by telegram, sent when we
| reached Folkestona We made an apology
| for NEAL in fact, what we could get at
that time of night was Of itself little more
| than apology. We sat all but silent, watch
| ing the hands of the clock, which told US
4 how fast the precious moments were passing
I away. We saw the gray morning struggle
/ with, and at last conquer, the yellow gas
| Light We heard the hum of traffic growing
| louder and louder in the streets below US
/ Then we turned to make what may be right
| ly called our last adeus. Who could say
! that to-day my wife and L might no1 DC
parted forever!
| While at the hotel I tried to obtain the
| file of the Times. I wanted to look back
| and see if could find the account of mag!S s
| terial proceedings against this unlucky VIII
1 liam Evans. He must, of course, have ap-
4 peared before the lesser tribunal, and could
4 see the account of his appearance L should
4 be able to judge as to the strength OF the
i case against him But the file was not forth
\ coming. Perhaps it did not exist; perhaps
/ the sleepy-eyed Teutonic waiter did not I'M
A ,Glerstand what wanted; so, still in the dark
4 ;as to why suspicion should have fallen upon
\ this innocent man, we left the hotel and
| drove to Liverpool street station.
At9 o'clock our journey wasg ended. We
\ stood on the platform of Tewnham railway
/ station My poor wife wore q thick black
\ veil, so her face 1 could not see; but knew
4 it was as pale as death. Now and again her
\
| convulsively. | think we were the most I'M
| happy pair on the earthl
We were even denied the time Tor any
A more farewells or expressed regrets; Inc
| hour was Ginning from the old cathedral
4 tower The business of the courts, | knew,
l always began at 10 o'clock, and considering
4 the crowd which would most surely be at
| tracted by so Interesting case as this tf1al
\ for murder committed so many months ago,
| / felt sure that unless proceeded at once
1 rrNf l,o hill 0l,n of NJ
trance would be but small one. L hailed
one of the close cabs which were waiting
outside the station.
AS 1 did so I felt heavy hand laid upon
Yny shoulder and heard rich, pleasant
| sounding and not unfamiliar voice exclalm,
| %tBasil North, as Pm siEnerT
That any one should at this moment adj
| dress Basil North in a merry way seemed
| positive incongruity | turned around al
most angrilv. and founu myself face to face
with an old friend. He was barrister
named Grant; a man four or five years my
senior, but one with whom, before | for
swore the society of my tellow-men, had
been on intimate terms ha6 not seen him
for a considerable time; but had heard,
casually, that he was making great strides
| in his forensic career
| In spite of my distress l returned his
greeting and grasped his hand warmly. At
ter all it seemed a relief to find that had
friend left in the world.
| wv nat brings you lere!' L dSKeu.
/ ''The only thing that could bring me to
such place-circuit work. l have an i'm
portant case on to-day. That's the worst
of place so rear London as this one. One
is tempted to spend the nights in town,
which means getting up at an unholy hour
in the morning. But you! Why are you
here? I heard you were as rich as Midas,
| and living abroad in luxury"
| ~ have been abroad for some time. l
| hope to go back again very SOON"
Hey py mani" he calculated. l could
scarcely keep the bitter smile from my lips
as I thought how i'll applied were his words
\ As he spoke he glanced at Philippe, whose
1 grace and beauty of form detied the con-
cealment attempted by thick veil and SOM
bre garments.
''But what brings you to this sleepy old
town?' continued Grant.
I hesitated for a moment. Then, think
ing that truth, or at least half truth, was
the best, told him had come down to wit
4 ness the trial for murder.
Il should doubt your getting into court, :"
| he said. ''The morbid interest excited
| around about here is, am told, very great
The sheriff is besieged by applications for
/ tickets7''
Couldn't you help me? The fact is, I
have particular reason, not mere curiosity,
for wishing to be present at this trial"
81 don't think | can" said Grant ''Does
your-the lady wish to go with you?'
| my cousin-yes," l said seeing that he
expected an introduction. He raised his
hat and made some courteous and pleasant
remark, to which Philippa, to my surprise,
replied i'll a calm an fitting way
Grant knew l had no sister. l called her
cousin because had wild hope that, if the
| worst happened. I might be able to conceal
! the true lationship in which we stood, and
| SO be permitted to give evidence ON her be-
! half. trusted my wife would guess that
had a good reason for this deception
''Try and manage this for me, Grant,
said so earnestly that my friend made no
further demur.
''Take me in your cab, and will see what
can do"
During our drive to the Shirehall I asked
| Grant what he knew about the impending
trial.
4'Nothing," he said. frankly ST hate
murder cases-hate even to read about them
Of course [ know that Sir Mervyn Ferrand
| was killed and hidden in the snow for DAYS
and days. But I know no more"
''Who is the accused?'
81 don't know. I thought, from your
anxiety, you must know him."
'Will he be found guilty?'
who ought to be well informed say yester-
day that the case for the prosecution was
most feeble. He seemed to doubt if the
grand jury would return a true bill"
AS heard this pressed Philippians hand
secretly l felt that she was trembling.
few minutes. We did not go to the public
entrance, in front of which l could see a
crowd of people nearly blocking I'D the
street. We stopped at another door, and
Grant, after looking around, caught sight of
| what appeared to be an inspector of police.
| He entered into little conversation with
him, the result of which was that we were
| given into his care.
s'This is breach of the law WHISPERED
my friend as he babe me good bye. ssYou
| 10 OTTO fN, Nv I.
gratuity."
We followed our guide. Philippa, al
thourh walking with firm step, leaned
heavily upon my arm scarcely know by
what door we entered that palace of ius-
tice. The stalwart policeman led us through
stone corridors and passages, which re,
echoed with the tread of our feet, and at
last we found ourselves before double
swinging plain oak door, over which in old
English letters was written Criminal
Court"
l felt Philppa shudder and knew that
the sight of those words brought the horror
of the situation fully home to her, Mechan.
ically pressed a sovereign in the hand of
the venial inspector, or whatever he was:
then, holding my wife's hand 1 passed
through the nolseless swinging door into the
all but empty court.
A few policemen and other officials were
lounging about. Two or hree people, who
ha, no doubt gained admittance in the sar.e
way as we had done, We're seated in variols
coignes of vantage. I led Philippa up the
broad steps, and pointed to one of the hard
wooden benches provided for the accomI1o-
dation of the general public These benches
were raised step by step, one above another.
We chose our position about halfway up
IN the right-hand side of the court. Phil
ippa, with her thick veil falling down to her
chin, and so defying recognition, sank wear
lily into her seat. | placed myself beside
her; my hand crept under the CLOAK she
wore and held her hand.
Surely, it was all a dream-a dreadful,
realistic dreaml ! should waAe and find
myself under The great orange tree in that
courtyard in gay Seville, my half-smoked
cigar and the book which had been lazily
reading lying at my feet; my mother oppo.
site me, laughing at my somnolency, and
Philippas grave dark eyes looking with
should wake and find the cool of the evening
had Succeaded q the olaca of the fta,.