Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-02-27


ger-stick, stained and rusty, told the most
graphic tale there was to tell. Yet Luke
de Mountford stepped quietly away from
the table looking neither self-conscious
nor dazed. He went back to his seat. be-
| side Mr.. Dobson. and, leaning toward
him, answered some whispered questions
| which the solicitor was putting to him
He folded his arms before him, and after
| while allowed his head to fall forward
| a little. closing his eyes as he did SO. He
| seemed a little tired, but otherwise un'
perturbed, even though the hall porter
| now was recalled, and was busy identity
| ing the stick which lay across the coro-
| ner's table with the one which he him.
| self had handed to Mr.. de Mountford's
visitor at Q O'Clock the night before last
| And the police, too, added share to
| this work that was going on OF enmesh-
ing q criminal. There was the constable
| who had found the stick inside the raj.
straight away to his chiefs at Scotland
| Yard before the stains on 1t had been
further disturbed; and there was. nnaliy
DR.. Blair, the district medical officer. also
recalled. who examined the dagger winch
| fitted into that snake-woOd stick.
| He had been shown it yesterday, II
| seems, and found how accurately 1t fitted
| the wound In the murdered mans throat
To this he swOre now IN open court. ioi
| the coup de theatre, the production OF the
dagger stick had been kept back until
| now. in order that it should work its full
est and most dramatic effect.
| Col. Harris, sitting near his daughter
| would have given worlds to know wna'
what to think. His simple, unsophisti-
Gated mind was in maze. The question
Of Luke's possible guilt had suddenly
doomed up before him. dissipating the
former blind impulse Of partisanship and
| loyalty. Mr.. Dobson. too. looked puzzled
the old family solicitor, who had seen
Luke and his brothers and sister grow
up, who a few hours, nay minutes. age
| would have sworn to his clients inno-
cence before the entire world, he, too, now
| was face to face with a htdeous feeling
Of doubt.
| Not one other person in the room
either, believe me, who was not convinced
| Of Lukes guilt. Louisa knew that wei
enough as her aching eyes wandered over
| the sea of faces. meeting hollow com.
| passion, morbid curiosity, at best a GER
| tain sympathetic horror, in the glances
round. She knew that every one here
the officials. the jury. the police, the pub
lie. believed that Luke struck his cousin
| in the dark; she knew that Mr.. Dobson
had begun to doubt, and that her father
had begun to fear.
| And She, with all the fervor Of uncon.
quered love, prayed in her heart that she
| might understand. She prayed to love te
open the eyes of her mind for it was hel
| reason which did not understand, which
| yearned to understand.
| Her heart cared nothing, cared for moth
/ ing except for the man she loved. and the
| bitter bitter sorrow which he endured
alone, shut away from ALL even from her
| There was general stir in the court
room, the coroner had risen. also the
| jury. The journalists were holding agi.
tated parlance with the boy messengers
Louisa-like one who had received q
sharp blow on the head-wondered what
all this stir meant
| Was it all over? Had Luke irretrievably
| lost himself in that secret orchard of his
| into which he was obviously determined
| that even she should not enter?
Then she found out that the stir only
meant the luncheon hour. All these PEG.
| pie were going to eat and to chatter
| Heavens above! how they would chatter
| Her father said something about get.
ting a cab and trying to find decent
| hotel in which to have luncheon. But she
scarcely heard. She had just seen Luke
disappearing through the crowd in com.
pany with Mr.. Dobson. and he had not
even glanced back to look at her.
| Every one whispered round her. Lady
| Ducies' nodding feathers worried her al
| most to distraction. She allowed hei
father to lead her away and to make way
for her through the crowd.
Presently she found herself sitting near
not look at her. He had begun to think
that Luke had killed his cousin; once she
heard him repeating the word '.damna-
ble!' twice under his breath. Thus She
| knew that his loyalty was on the point
| Of giving way.
It seems that they had luncheon some
| where together. She did not take the
! trouble to inquire where she was; an old
! fashioned hotel. somewhere in Kensing-
| ton, with tablecloths that looked as II
| they had been used for several previous
| luncheons, and foreign walters. who wore
| weird-looking shoes and trousers frayed
| at the edges.
To please her father she ate a little
| though she thought that eating must
| choke her. But 1t was wearisome to
argue. and he-poor dear-looked SO mis-.
cradle.
! Time was precious and luncheon in.
| terninably slow: 1t was past O'Clock
when Louisa saw Luke again in the court.
| room.