B. 24
I told my story when I was taken, and no one would listen to me. Then Itold it again at the trial—the whole thing absolutely as it happened,without so much as a word added. I set it all out truly, so help me God,all that Lady Mannering said and did, and then all that I had said anddone, just as it occurred. And what did I get for it? “The prisoner putforward a rambling and inconsequential statement, incredible in itsdetails, and unsupported by any shred of corroborative evidence.” Thatwas what one of the London papers said, and others let it pass as if Ihad made no defence at all. And yet, with my own eyes I saw LordMannering murdered, and I am as guiltless of it as any man on the jurythat tried me.
Now, sir, you are there to receive the petitions of prisoners. It alllies with you. All I ask is that you read it—just read it—and then thatyou make an inquiry or two about the private character of this “lady”Mannering, if she still keeps the name that she had three years ago,when to my sorrow and ruin I came to meet her. You could use a privateinquiry agent or a good lawyer, and you would soon learn enough to showyou that my story is the true one. Think of the glory it would be to youto have all the papers saying that there would have been a shockingmiscarriage of justice if it had not been for your perseverance andintelligence! That must be your reward, since I am a poor man and canoffer you nothing. But if you don’t do it, may you never lie easy inyour bed again! May no night pass that you are not haunted by thethought of the man who rots in gaol because you have not done the dutywhich you are paid to do! But you will do it, sir, I know. Just make oneor two inquiries, and you will soon find which way the wind blows.Remember, also, that the only person who profited by the crime washerself, since it changed her from an unhappy wife to a rich youngwidow. There’s the end of the string in your hand, and you only have tofollow it up and see where it leads to.
Mind you, sir, I make no complaint as far as the burglary goes. I don’twhine about what I have deserved, and so far I have had no more than Ihave deserved. Burglary it was, right enough, and my three years havegone to pay for it. It was shown at the trial that I had had a hand inthe Merton Cross business, and did a year for that, so my story had theless attention on that account. A man with a previous conviction nevergets a really fair trial. I own to the burglary, but when it comes tothe murder which brought me a lifer—any judge but Sir James might havegiven me the gallows—then I tell you that I had nothing to do with it,and that I am an innocent man. And now I’ll take that night, the 13th ofSeptember, 1894, and I’ll give you just exactly what occurred, and mayGod’s hand strike me down if I go one inch over the truth.
I had been at Bristol in the summer looking for work, and then I had anotion that I might get something at Portsmouth, for I was trained as askilled mechanic, so I came tramping my way across the south of England,and doing odd jobs as I went. I was trying all I knew to keep off thecross, for I had done a year in Exeter Gaol, and I had had enough ofvisiting Queen Victoria. But it’s cruel hard to get work when once theblack mark is against your name, and it was all I could do to keep souland body together. At last, after ten days of wood-cutting andstone-breaking on starvation pay, I found myself near Salisbury with acouple of shillings in my pocket, and my boots and my patience cleanwore out. There’s an ale-house called “The Willing Mind,” which standson the road between Blandford and Salisbury, and it was there that nightI engaged a bed. I was sitting alone in the tap-room just about closingtime, when the innkeeper—Allen his name was—came beside me and beganyarning about the neighbours. He was a man that liked to talk and tohave some one to listen to his talk, so I sat there smoking and drinkinga mug of ale which he had stood me; and I took no great interest in whathe said until he began to talk (as the devil would have it) about theriches of Mannering Hall.
“Meaning the large house on the right before I came to the village?”said I. “The one that stands in its own park?”
“Exactly,” said he—and I am giving all our talk so that you may knowthat I am telling you the truth and hiding nothing. “The long whitehouse with the pillars,” said he. “At the side of the Blandford Road.”
Now I had looked at it as I passed, and it had crossed my mind, as suchthoughts will, that it was a very easy house to get into with that greatrow of ground windows and glass doors. I had put the thought away fromme, and now here was this landlord bringing it back with his talk aboutthe riches within. I said nothing, but I listened, and as luck wouldhave it, he would always come back to this one subject.
“He was a miser young, so you can think what he is now in his age,” saidhe. “Well, he’s had some good out of his money.”
“What good can he have had if he does not spend it?” said I.
“Well, it bought him the prettiest wife in England, and that was somegood that he got out of it. She thought she would have the spending ofit, but she knows the difference now.”
“Who was she then?” I asked, just for the sake of something to say.
“She was nobody at all until the old Lord made her his Lady,” said he.“She came from up London way, and some said that she had been on thestage there, but nobody knew. The old Lord was away for a year, and whenhe came home he brought a young wife back with him, and there she hasbeen ever since. Stephens, the butler, did tell me once that she was thelight of the house when fust she came, but what with her husband’s meanand aggravatin’ way, and what with her loneliness—for he hates to see avisitor within his doors; and what with his bitter words—for he has atongue like a hornet’s sting, her life all went out of her, and shebecame a white, silent creature, moping about the country lanes. Somesay that she loved another man, and that it was just the riches of theold Lord which tempted her to be false to her lover, and that now she iseating her heart out because she has lost the one without being anynearer to the other, for she might be the poorest woman in the parishfor all the money that she has the handling of.”
Well, sir, you can imagine that it did not interest me very much to hearabout the quarrels between a Lord and a Lady. What did it matter to meif she hated the sound of his voice, or if he put every indignity uponher in the hope of breaking her spirit, and spoke to her as he wouldnever have dared to speak to one of his servants? The landlord told meof these things, and of many more like them, but they passed out of mymind, for they were no concern of mine. But what I did want to hear wasthe form in which Lord Mannering kept his riches. Title-deeds and stockcertificates are but paper, and more danger than profit to the man whotakes them. But metal and stones are worth a risk. And then, as if hewere answering my very thoughts, the landlord told me of LordMannering’s great collection of gold medals, that it was the mostvaluable in the world, and that it was reckoned that if they were putinto a sack the strongest man in the parish would not be able to raisethem. Then his wife called him, and he and I went to our beds.
I am not arguing to make out a case for myself, but I beg you, sir, tobear all the facts in your mind, and to ask yourself whether a man couldbe more sorely tempted than I was. I make bold to say that there are fewwho could have held out against it. There I lay on my bed that night, adesperate man without hope or work, and with my last shilling in mypocket. I had tried to be honest, and honest folk had turned their backsupon me. They taunted me for theft; and yet they pushed me towards it. Iwas caught in the stream and could not get out. And then it was such achance: the great house all lined with windows, the golden medals whichcould so easily be melted down. It was like putting a loaf before astarving man and expecting him not to eat it. I fought against it for atime, but it was no use. At last I sat up on the side of my bed, and Iswore that that night I should either be a rich man and able to give upcrime for ever, or that the irons should be on my wrists once more. ThenI slipped on my clothes, and, having put a shilling on the table—for thelandlord had treated me well, and I did not wish to cheat him—I passedout through the window into the garden of the inn.
There was a high wall round this garden, and I had a job to get over it,but once on the other s
ide it was all plain sailing. I did not meet asoul upon the road, and the iron gate of the avenue was open. No one wasmoving at the lodge. The moon was shining, and I could see the greathouse glimmering white through an archway of trees. I walked up it for aquarter of a mile or so, until I was at the edge of the drive, where itended in a broad, gravelled space before the main door. There I stood inthe shadow and looked at the long building, with a full moon shining inevery window and silvering the high stone front. I crouched there forsome time, and I wondered where I should find the easiest entrance. Thecorner window of the side seemed to be the one which was leastoverlooked, and a screen of ivy hung heavily over it. My best chance wasevidently there. I worked my way under the trees to the back of thehouse, and then crept along in the black shadow of the building. A dogbarked and rattled his chain, but I stood waiting until he was quiet,and then I stole on once more until I came to the window which I hadchosen.
It is astonishing how careless they are in the country, in places farremoved from large towns, where the thought of burglars never enterstheir heads. I call it setting temptation in a poor man’s way when heputs his hand, meaning no harm, upon a door, and finds it swing openbefore him. In this case it was not so bad as that, but the window wasmerely fastened with the ordinary catch, which I opened with a push fromthe blade of my knife. I pulled up the window as quickly as possible,and then I thrust the knife through the slit in the shutter and prizedit open. They were folding shutters, and I shoved them before me andwalked into the room.
“Good evening, sir! You are very welcome!” said a voice.
I’ve had some starts in my life, but never one to come up to that one.There, in the opening of the shutters, within reach of my arm, wasstanding a woman with a small coil of wax taper burning in her hand. Shewas tall and straight and slender, with a beautiful white face thatmight have been cut out of clear marble, but her hair and eyes were asblack as night. She was dressed in some sort of white dressing-gownwhich flowed down to her feet, and what with this robe and what with herface, it seemed as if a spirit from above was standing in front of me.My knees knocked together, and I held on to the shutter with one hand togive me support. I should have turned and run away if I had had thestrength, but I could only just stand and stare at her.
She soon brought me back to myself once more.
“Don’t be frightened!” said she, and they were strange words for themistress of a house to have to use to a burglar. “I saw you out of mybedroom window when you were hiding under those trees, so I slippeddownstairs, and then I heard you at the window. I should have opened itfor you if you had waited, but you managed it yourself just as I cameup.”
I still held in my hand the long clasp-knife with which I had opened theshutter. I was unshaven and grimed from a week on the roads. Altogether,there are few people who would have cared to face me alone at one in themorning; but this woman, if I had been her lover meeting her byappointment, could not have looked upon me with a more welcoming eye.She laid her hand upon my sleeve and drew me into the room.
“What’s the meaning of this, ma’am? Don’t get trying any little gamesupon me,” said I, in my roughest way—and I can put it on rough when Ilike. “It’ll be the worse for you if you play me any trick,” I added,showing her my knife.
“I will play you no trick,” said she. “On the contrary, I am yourfriend, and I wish to help you.”
“Excuse me, ma’am, but I find it hard to believe that,” said I. “Whyshould you wish to help me?”
“I have my own reasons,” said she; and then suddenly, with those blackeyes blazing out of her white face: “It’s because I hate him, hate him,hate him! Now you understand.”
I remembered what the landlord had told me, and I did understand. Ilooked at her Ladyship’s face, and I knew that I could trust her. Shewanted to revenge herself upon her husband. She wanted to hit him whereit would hurt him most—upon the pocket. She hated him so that she wouldeven lower her pride to take such a man as me into her confidence if shecould gain her end by doing so. I’ve hated some folk in my time, but Idon’t think I ever understood what hate was until I saw that woman’sface in the light of the taper.
“You’ll trust me now?” said she, with another coaxing touch upon mysleeve.
“Yes, your Ladyship.”
“You know me, then?”
“I can guess who you are.”
“I daresay my wrongs are the talk of the county. But what does he carefor that? He only cares for one thing in the whole world, and that youcan take from him this night. Have you a bag?”
“No, your Ladyship.”
“Shut the shutter behind you. Then no one can see the light. You arequite safe. The servants all sleep in the other wing. I can show youwhere all the most valuable things are. You cannot carry them all, so wemust pick the best.”
The room in which I found myself was long and low, with many rugs andskins scattered about on a polished wood floor. Small cases stood hereand there, and the walls were decorated with spears and swords andpaddles, and other things which find their way into museums. There weresome queer clothes, too, which had been brought from savage countries,and the lady took down a large leather sack-bag from among them.
“This sleeping-sack will do,” said she. “Now come with me and I willshow you where the medals are.”
It was like a dream to me to think that this tall, white woman was thelady of the house, and that she was lending me a hand to rob her ownhome. I could have burst out laughing at the thought of it, and yetthere was something in that pale face of hers which stopped my laughterand turned me cold and serious. She swept on in front of me like aspirit, with the green taper in her hand, and I walked behind with mysack until we came to a door at the end of this museum. It was locked,but the key was in it, and she led me through.
The room beyond was a small one, hung all round with curtains which hadpictures on them. It was the hunting of a deer that was painted on it,as I remember, and in the flicker of that light you’d have sworn thatthe dogs and the horses were streaming round the walls. The only otherthing in the room was a row of cases made of walnut, with brassornaments. They had glass tops, and beneath this glass I saw the longlines of those gold medals, some of them as big as a plate and half aninch thick, all resting upon red velvet and glowing and gleaming in thedarkness. My fingers were just itching to be at them, and I slipped myknife under the lock of one of the cases to wrench it open.
“Wait a moment,” said she, laying her hand upon my arm. “You might dobetter than this.”
“I am very well satisfied, ma’am,” said I, “and much obliged to yourLadyship for kind assistance.”
“You can do better,” she repeated. “Would not golden sovereigns be worthmore to you than these things?”
“Why, yes,” said I. “That’s best of all.”
“Well,” said she. “He sleeps just above our head. It is but one shortstaircase. There is a tin box with money enough to fill this bag underhis bed.”
“How can I get it without waking him?”
“What matter if he does wake?” She looked very hard at me as she spoke.“You could keep him from calling out.”
“No, no, ma’am, I’ll have none of that.”
“Just as you like,” said she. “I thought that you were a stout-heartedsort of man by your appearance, but I see that I made a mistake. If youare afraid to run the risk of one old man, then of course you cannothave the gold which is under his bed. You are the best judge of your ownbusiness, but I should think that you would do better at some othertrade.”
“I’ll not have murder on my conscience.”
“You could overpower him without harming him. I never said anything ofmurder. The money lies under the bed. But if you are faint-hearted, itis better that you should not attempt it.”
She worked upon me so, partly with her scorn and partly with this moneythat she held before my eyes, that I believe I should have yielded andtaken my chances upstairs, ha
d it not been that I saw her eyes followingthe struggle within me in such a crafty, malignant fashion, that it wasevident she was bent upon making me the tool of her revenge, and thatshe would leave me no choice but to do the old man an injury or to becaptured by him. She felt suddenly that she was giving herself away, andshe changed her face to a kindly, friendly smile, but it was too late,for I had had my warning.
“I will not go upstairs,” said I. “I have all I want here.”
She looked her contempt at me, and there never was a face which couldlook it plainer.
“Very good. You can take these medals. I should be glad if you wouldbegin at this end. I suppose they will all be the same value when melteddown, but these are the ones which are the rarest, and, therefore, themost precious to him. It is not necessary to break the locks. If youpress that brass knob you will find that there is a secret spring. So!Take that small one first—it is the very apple of his eye.”
She had opened one of the cases, and the beautiful things all layexposed before me. I had my hand upon the one which she had pointed out,when suddenly a change came over her face, and she held up one finger asa warning. “Hist!” she whispered. “What is that?”
Far away in the silence of the house we heard a low, dragging, shufflingsound, and the distant tread of feet. She closed and fastened the casein an instant.
“It’s my husband!” she whispered. “All right. Don’t be alarmed. I’llarrange it. Here! Quick, behind the tapestry!”
She pushed me behind the painted curtains upon the wall, my emptyleather bag still in my hand. Then she took her taper and walked quicklyinto the room from which we had come. From where I stood I could see herthrough the open door.
“Is that you, Robert?” she cried.
The light of a candle shone through the door of the museum, and theshuffling steps came nearer and nearer. Then I saw a face in thedoorway, a great, heavy face, all lines and creases, with a huge curvingnose, and a pair of gold glasses fixed across it. He had to throw hishead back to see through the glasses, and that great nose thrust out infront of him like the beak of some sort of fowl. He was a big man, verytall and burly, so that in his loose dressing-gown his figure seemed tofill up the whole doorway. He had a pile of grey, curling hair all roundhis head, but his face was clean-shaven. His mouth was thin and smalland prim, hidden away under his long, masterful nose. He stood there,holding the candle in front of him, and looking at his wife with aqueer, malicious gleam in his eyes. It only needed that one look to tellme that he was as fond of her as she was of him.
“How’s this?” he asked. “Some new tantrum? What do you mean by wanderingabout the house? Why don’t you go to bed?”
“I could not sleep,” she answered. She spoke languidly and wearily. Ifshe was an actress once, she had not forgotten her calling.
“Might I suggest,” said he, in the same mocking kind of voice, “that agood conscience is an excellent aid to sleep?”
“That cannot be true,” she answered, “for you sleep very well.”
“I have only one thing in my life to be ashamed of,” said he, and hishair bristled up with anger until he looked like an old cockatoo. “Youknow best what that is. It is a mistake which has brought its ownpunishment with it.”
“To me as well as to you. Remember that!”
“You have very little to whine about. It was I who stooped and you whorose.”
“Rose!”
“Yes, rose. I suppose you do not deny that it is promotion to exchangethe music-hall for Mannering Hall. Fool that I was ever to take you outof your true sphere!”
“If you think so, why do you not separate?”
“Because private misery is better than public humiliation. Because it iseasier to suffer for a mistake than to own to it. Because also I like tokeep you in my sight, and to know that you cannot go back to him.”
“You villain! You cowardly villain!”
“Yes, yes, my lady. I know your secret ambition, but it shall never bewhile I live, and if it happens after my death I will at least take carethat you go to him as a beggar. You and dear Edward will never have thesatisfaction of squandering my savings, and you may make up your mind tothat, my lady. Why are those shutters and the window open?”
“I found the night very close.”
“It is not safe. How do you know that some tramp may not be outside? Areyou aware that my collection of medals is worth more than any similarcollection in the world? You have left the door open also. What is thereto prevent any one from rifling the cases?”
“I was here.”
“I know you were. I heard you moving about in the medal room, and thatwas why I came down. What were you doing?”
“Looking at the medals. What else should I be doing?”
“This curiosity is something new.” He looked suspiciously at her andmoved on towards the inner room, she walking beside him.
It was at this moment that I saw something which startled me. I had laidmy clasp-knife open upon the top of one of the cases, and there it layin full view. She saw it before he did, and with a woman’s cunning sheheld her taper out so that the light of it came between Lord Mannering’seyes and the knife. Then she took it in her left hand and held itagainst her gown out of his sight. He looked about from case to case—Icould have put my hand at one time upon his long nose—but there wasnothing to show that the medals had been tampered with, and so, stillsnarling and grumbling, he shuffled off into the other room once more.
And now I have to speak of what I heard rather than of what I saw, but Iswear to you, as I shall stand some day before my Maker, that what I sayis the truth.
When they passed into the outer room I saw him lay his candle upon thecorner of one of the tables, and he sat himself down, but in such aposition that he was just out of my sight. She moved behind him, as Icould tell from the fact that the light of her taper threw his long,lumpy shadow upon the floor in front of him. Then he began talking aboutthis man whom he called Edward, and every word that he said was like ablistering drop of vitriol. He spoke low, so that I could not hear itall, but from what I heard I should guess that she would as soon havebeen lashed with a whip. At first she said some hot words in reply, butthen she was silent, and he went on and on in that cold, mocking voiceof his, nagging and insulting and tormenting, until I wondered that shecould bear to stand there in silence and listen to it. Then suddenly Iheard him say in a sharp voice, “Come from behind me! Leave go of mycollar! What! would you dare to strike me?” There was a sound like ablow, just a soft sort of thud, and then I heard him cry out, “My God,it’s blood!” He shuffled with his feet as if he was getting up, and thenI heard another blow, and he cried out, “Oh, you she-devil!” and wasquiet, except for a dripping and splashing upon the floor.
I ran out from behind my curtain at that, and rushed into the otherroom, shaking all over with the horror of it. The old man had slippeddown in the chair, and his dressing-gown had rucked up until he lookedas if he had a monstrous hump to his back. His head, with the goldglasses still fixed on his nose, was lolling over upon one side, and hislittle mouth was open just like a dead fish. I could not see where theblood was coming from, but I could still hear it drumming upon thefloor. She stood behind him with the candle shining full upon her face.Her lips were pressed together and her eyes shining, and a touch ofcolour had come into each of her cheeks. It just wanted that to make herthe most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life.
“You’ve done it now!” said I.
“Yes,” said she, in her quiet way, “I’ve done it now.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked. “They’ll have you for murder assure as fate.”
“Never fear about me. I have nothing to live for, and it does notmatter. Give me a hand to set him straight in the chair. It is horribleto see him like this!”
I did so, though it turned me cold all over to touch him. Some of hisblood came on my hand and sickened me.
“Now,” said she, �
�you may as well have the medals as any one else. Takethem and go.”
“I don’t want them. I only want to get away. I was never mixed up with abusiness like this before.”
“Nonsense!” said she. “You came for the medals, and here they are atyour mercy. Why should you not have them? There is no one to preventyou.”
I held the bag still in my hand. She opened the case, and between us wethrew a hundred or so of the medals into it. They were all from the onecase, but I could not bring myself to wait for any more. Then I made forthe window, for the very air of this house seemed to poison me afterwhat I had seen and heard. As I looked back, I saw her standing there,tall and graceful, with the light in her hand, just as I had seen herfirst. She waved good-bye, and I waved back at her and sprang out intothe gravel drive.
I thank God that I can lay my hand upon my heart and say that I havenever done a murder, but perhaps it would be different if I had beenable to read that woman’s mind and thoughts. There might have been twobodies in the room instead of one if I could have seen behind that lastsmile of hers. But I thought of nothing but of getting safely away, andit never entered my head how she might be fixing the rope round my neck.I had not taken five steps out from the window skirting down the shadowof the house in the way that I had come, when I heard a scream thatmight have raised the parish, and then another and another.
“Murder!” she cried. “Murder! Murder! Help!” and her voice rang out inthe quiet of the night-time and sounded over the whole country-side. Itwent through my head, that dreadful cry. In an instant lights began tomove and windows to fly up, not only in the house behind me, but at thelodge and in the stables in front. Like a frightened rabbit I bolteddown the drive, but I heard the clang of the gate being shut before Icould reach it. Then I hid my bag of medals under some dry fagots, and Itried to get away across the park, but some one saw me in the moonlight,and presently I had half a dozen of them with dogs upon my heels. Icrouched down among the brambles, but those dogs were too many for me,and I was glad enough when the men came up and prevented me from beingtorn into pieces. They seized me, and dragged me back to the room fromwhich I had come.
“Is this the man, your Ladyship?” asked the oldest of them—the same whomI found out afterwards to be the butler.
She had been bending over the body, with her handkerchief to her eyes,and now she turned upon me with the face of a fury. Oh, what an actressthat woman was!
“Yes, yes, it is the very man,” she cried. “Oh, you villain, you cruelvillain, to treat an old man so!”
There was a man there who seemed to be a village constable. He laid hishand upon my shoulder.
“What do you say to that?” said he.
“It was she who did it,” I cried, pointing at the woman, whose eyesnever flinched before mine.
“Come! come! Try another!” said the constable, and one of themen-servants struck at me with his fist.
“I tell you that I saw her do it. She stabbed him twice with a knife.She first helped me to rob him, and then she murdered him.”
The footman tried to strike me again, but she held up her hand.
“Do not hurt him,” said she. “I think that his punishment may safely beleft to the law.”
“I’ll see to that, your Ladyship,” said the constable. “Your Ladyshipactually saw the crime committed, did you not?”
“Yes, yes, I saw it with my own eyes. It was horrible. We heard thenoise and we came down. My poor husband was in front. The man had one ofthe cases open, and was filling a black leather bag which he held in hishand. He rushed past us, and my husband seized him. There was astruggle, and he stabbed him twice. There you can see the blood upon hishands. If I am not mistaken, his knife is still in Lord Mannering’sbody.”
“Look at the blood upon her hands!” I cried.
“She has been holding up his Lordship’s head, you lying rascal,” saidthe butler.
“And here’s the very sack her Ladyship spoke of,” said the constable, asa groom came in with the one which I had dropped in my flight. “And hereare the medals inside it. That’s good enough for me. We will keep himsafe here to-night, and to-morrow the inspector and I can take him intoSalisbury.”
“Poor creature,” said the woman. “For my own part, I forgive him anyinjury which he has done me. Who knows what temptation may have drivenhim to crime? His conscience and the law will give him punishment enoughwithout any reproach of mine rendering it more bitter.”
I could not answer—I tell you, sir, I could not answer, so taken abackwas I by the assurance of the woman. And so, seeming by my silence toagree to all that she had said, I was dragged away by the butler and theconstable into the cellar, in which they locked me for the night.
There, sir, I have told you the whole story of the events which led upto the murder of Lord Mannering by his wife upon the night of Septemberthe 14th, in the year 1894. Perhaps you will put my statement on oneside as the constable did at Mannering Towers, or the judge afterwardsat the county assizes. Or perhaps you will see that there is the ring oftruth in what I say, and you will follow it up, and so make your namefor ever as a man who does not grudge personal trouble where justice isto be done. I have only you to look to, sir, and if you will clear myname of this false accusation, then I will worship you as one man neveryet worshipped another. But if you fail me, then I give you my solemnpromise that I will rope myself up, this day month, to the bar of mywindow, and from that time on I will come to plague you in your dreamsif ever yet one man was able to come back and to haunt another. What Iask you to do is very simple. Make inquiries about this woman, watchher, learn her past history, find out what use she is making of themoney which has come to her, and whether there is not a man Edward as Ihave stated. If from all this you learn anything which shows you herreal character, or which seems to you to corroborate the story which Ihave told you, then I am sure that I can rely upon your goodness ofheart to come to the rescue of an innocent man.
THE END
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.
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Round the Fire Stories Page 18
