The Central Glamorgan Gazette, and General, Commercial, and Agricultural Advertiser. — 1882-05-26 (Bridgend, Mid Glamorgan, Wales)

ROGUES  VAGABONDS  BY GEORGIC R. SIMS.  CHAPTER XLVIII.—(CorrnruED.)  Marston led the way below like a man in a dream. He could hardly realise that he was free ol Hackett, and that the terrible icons he had j oat gone  through was mere pretence. He had endured the agony of discovery—he had , passed in those few minutes through the supremest torture. Now he could foresee what awaited him if ' ever he should be run to earth in stern reality. The man outside was only slightly wounded, and was able to go with the one who had been stationed in front to the hospital. It was a flesh wound dud nothing serious. When they were alone Preene explained fully to the astonished •Marston what he had done. "I wouldn't tell you before, because I relied upon your terror to do the trick. If you hadn't been frightened, Ileckett would have smelt a rat. By Jove ! you were in a state, Marston. I don't think you'll die game, you know." "Don't, for Heaven's sake," cried Marston, with • shudder. "But these men, what will they think ?" "That I came up here to arrest a suspected swindler, and that he's got clear away. They know me. necked will clear off now double quick, and you won't see him in a hurry. He's bound to believe it was a genuine arrest, and he's shot a policeman and, for all he knows, killed him." Marston drew a long breath, and poured himself out half a tumblerful of brandy. "It would almost have been a good job if he had killed him quite," he said, with a ghastly smile. "I fancy even Josh Heekett would hesitate about running his head into a noose." Preens elevated his eyebrows. "My dear Marston," he exclaimed, "in these matters you are evidently not at home. You don't suppose I shall miss such an opportunity of completing my contract with artistic skill? For the sequel of this adventure read to-morrow's papers. I am going to the Tekgraph office now. T.i-ta. I hope I shall see you looking better when I call to settle." The next day Marston turned to the Daily Telegraph, and was astonished to read the followink Daregriph Last evening a policeman, while endi to arrest a well-known burglar and bad character in the north of London, was shot by the ruffian and dangerously wounded. He is not expected to live many hours, the hospital authorities having no hope of his recovery." The paragraph was deliciously vague. It was sent in through an official channel and inserted. No hospital was mentioned, and nothing more was heard of the event. It vial nobody's business to contradict  or explain it. But Marston read it, and he acknowledged that Preens had, indeed, carried out his undertaking like a true artist. And hurrying down that morning in a fast train to the coast, shaved and disguised, a big burly fellow, dressed like a seafaring man, bought a paper and askeda young gentleman who accompanied him tolook it through and see if there was any murders or anything in the professional way. And the young gentleman's quick eye caught that paragraph and he read it aloud, and the old seafaring fellow seemed to feel for the policeman very much, for his mouth twitched and he looked as if riding with his back to the engine didn't agree with him. At the terminus, a point of embarkation for emigrants, the young gentleman and the seafaring man parted company. "Good-bye, Josh. God bless yer. Sorry yer-r got to go, but I 'spose yer must. Come back soon." "Good-bye, Boss," answered the sailor; "and don't forgit what I've told ver, and yer can keep the p_a prru ." " Thank yer' Josh. It'll remind me o' you often. I shall fancy it's you a torkin sometimes when it's extra strong in its languidge. Come back soon, old par' All right—now you hook it. I don't want to be seen along of nobody." "AU right, Josh; but, bless you, nobody knows me here—l arn't distinguished enuff in the perfesshun yet to be a universal silaberity." The friends parted, the young sinner and the old. The young sinner went back to London, and the old sinner went over the seas, with the suspicion that he was a murderer added to the many things which should have been on his conscience ii he had such an  rriicie in 'iii kit.  ' Marston saw a gOOtt foal Of Gertie WAN hhel he , SIR GARNET WOLBELEY ON CONSCRIPtook a new interest in the child. Now and then