The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1886-09-08

The men in plain clothes. who had first ad
dressed me, looked at me with a grim smile
You're bold ehap," he said: .'but it's NJ
use. You'd have done much better to havs
come along quietly. Now look'ee here. Eve
got to tell you that, whatever you say. from
this moment forward, will be used in evt
dence against you.'
For Gods sake, explainI' / answered
What does it all mean? Who is muFderedg
The man smiled again.
Lord bless Us, how innocent we are
You'll be telling US next that your name am
Hugh Trelawney, late oveIsee- of the St
Gurlott mine.'
''Trelawney is my name. but"
''0f course it is; and Trelawney's the name
of the man we want-the name on this her,
warrant Ny duty is to apprehend you fo
the murder of Mr.. Ephraim S. johnson, tn,
new oyerseer, who took your place"
johnson -murderedv' cried. ''It is i'm
possibleF'
''Oh, no, it ain't,' returned the imperturb
able official. Deceased was found at tn,
foot of the cliffs. with his brains Knocked
out and bearing on his body signs of vio
lenee; worse than that he'd been stabbed
with knife; and once more, you're the party
we want for having done the job
Utterly amazed and Mortified, staggered
and fell into chair. As for Annie, she
| seemed completely petrified. | can see hel
white face notC-frozen, fearless. and aghast
There was pause of several minutes. Ger
tain of his prisoner, the officer looked or
quietly. and allowed me breathing time.
Gradually, my brain cleared, and became
comparatively calm.
Il will go with you,' 1 said, ''but / an
perfectly innocent Until this moment
never even heard of this horrible affair."
'0f course not, returned the officer, cheer
fully. That's what they all say, young
man; and for the matter o that, every mans
innocent till the law proves him guilty.
But was not even there. left St Cur
lofts two days ago"
Exactly" was the dry retort; ''you hook
ed it the very night of the murder The
body was found early on the morning of the
23d, and the warrant was issued yester-
day."
As he spoke, / seemed to feel the net clos
ing round me. At first the very accusation
had seemed preposterous; nOtc, began to
understand that my position was one of ex-
treme peril. If johnson had really been
murdered, and on that night, as now seemed
clear, could not escape suspicion BY a mere
alibi. l remembered, with thrill of horror,
my last meeting with the murdered man, just
before my departure; and my heart sank
within me.
knew my own innocence-but who was
guilty? As | asked myself the question, i
looked again at Annie, who was still watch
ing me intently; and in moment, as if by
an inspiration, 1 thought of her fatheri Had
John Pendragon, in moment of madness
taken the life of the man whom he suspected
almost too horrible for belief-yet, aiasi il
was not unreasonable.
Now, then, are you ready?' said the Off
Ger, placing his hand upon my shoulder.
rose quietly. As did so, Annie sprung
toward me with outstretched hands.
Hugh dear Hugh! tell me you did not dc
it, l cannot-cannot believe that you are
guilty"
As l looked at her, all my spirit darkened
and hardened against her.
when the times comes, l said, solemnly
''may you be as well able to answer for youl
deeds as l shall answer for mine. The troub
| lie began with y0I. If murder has been done
it is your doing also-remember thatp'
They were cruel words, and afterward
| bitterly regretted them; but / was thinking
of her father, and remembering how bitter
must be her blame, if, by any possibility, ht
| had been driven into crime and violence as
consequence of her conduct Whether she
understood me or not, cannot tell; but, hid
| ing her face In her hands, she sank on &
| couch, Historically sobbing.
What followed seemed more like an ex
| traordinary dream than cruel waking reality
| / was led from the house, placed in a cab
and driven away. That very afternoon lef
| London by train, and late that night wa.
handed over, handcuffed and helpless, to th'
authorities of Falmouth Jail.
1t is a truism, know, that the best conso
lation to be found by the unjustly accused i
the consciousness of their own innocence
consciousness which is said to sweeten suf
fering, and tighten the weight of prison
| chains My own experience is that limo
! cence has no such effect on man indicted
for the foulest of human crimes. My frs
night in Jail was, like many that followed it
| night of simple horror. Had l really beer
| guilty, could not have suffered a 1.-THE o
what actually endured.
To begin with the whole affair was so hor
rible, so unexpected; it was like the solit
earth opening under my feet to destroy IN,
and swallow me up. BY a strange fatality
johnson had been killed on the very night @
my departure, and at time when / wa
| known to bear the greatest hostility towar
| him. Remembering all l had read of me-
unjustly convicted and even executed on Gil
| cumstantial evidence, thought with shud
der of how my very departure might be cor
strued into evidence against me.
In the extremity of my position, on
| thought haunted me with tormenting cruelty
What would Madeline think, when she hear
that was accused of crime so terrible, s
cowardly? / could bear everything else br
the fear that her heart might be turne
| against me.
My suspense did not last long. The yer
next day after my arrival at Falmouth Jai
! was taken from the prison, and placed in
dog-cart, with policeman at my side an
another on the seat beside the driver. A
inquest on the body of the murdered ma
was TO take place that day at St Gurlotts
and, of course, my presence was necessary
How wildly l remember that drivel Sno-
had fallen in the night, and the skies wer
dark and sunless; the whole prospect bite
" cold and desolate. We followed the sam
road that l had pursued long years before, /
company with John Rudd! Then l was
lonely boy; notc was melancholy man.
wore large ulster-coat, the folds G
which covered the handouts ON my hands
but fancied that every soul we passed kne'
the truth-thatI was a criminal accused {
murder. Talk about the consciousness of n
ocencel / could have wept for shame
What was long days journey by job
Rudd's slow, old-fashioned wagon, with i
innumerable stoppages for business, GOSSIP
or refreshment, was a swift drive of five
six hours on this occasion. We started ;
six in the morning, and before midday wei
In sight of St Gurlotfs-
As we dashed through the village, / sa
several of the miners hanging about but
carefully averted my eyes from theirs
little further on, we passed the door OF Il
cottage where had dwelt so happily and :
long; and | saw, with sigh of relief, tn
there was no sign of any one about W
trotted on, till we reached the gate Of Il
avenue leading to Redruth House. Here,
/, /, my surprise, the horse was pulled up, viii
! one OF the men jumped down and threw ops
the gate.
We passed up the avenue at slow tre
and, on arriving in front of Redruth Hous
: found the front door wide open and larg
number Of people, both gentry and comme
!, people, focking round the doorsteps and {
= the lawn. There was a murmur as appea
ed. looked round, but saw no face kne,
Now then, get DOWN. said my compaI
= ION; and alighted As did so, some OF
: pressed forward, and met the hor est ey'
of John Rudd. The poor fellow thrust o.
Z his hand to seize mine; then finding that
!. was handcuffed, drew the hand hastily bas
and placed il on my shoulder.
"Dawp't be dawnhearted, Master Hugh
be cried. There be not sawl in St Gu
lofts believes zee killed 'un. So cheer u
lad; they'll soon set ee free"
/ thanked him, with tears standing in n
eyes. for his kindness touched me. Then
was led into the house, and IN little whi
; was facing the coroner in the great old-fas
Y ioned dining-hall, where the inquest was b
ing held.
!. | forget many of the details of that mis-
able day. Only one thing l viyidly remer
berthe sight of the dead mans bod