Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 35, Number 80, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 June 1903 — WHO WAS GUILTY [ARTICLE]

WHO WAS GUILTY

A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE „

CHAPTER lll.—(Continued.) “You are quite sure,” I said, somewhat ■Urtied, "that you are not misguided by prejudice? What I mean Is, that your impressions are not favorable to Mile, •maulie?” “They are not, sir. If she has a sweetknrt ..what reason can noefa secrecy? When I have approachad them—and I beg you to believe that •I have always come across them by accident —they have stopped talking and (have shrunk away from observation, the • cun especially. Once l am certain they •were quarreling. They seemed to be threatening each other. That is all I dkavs to tell, sir." “Have yon met the man at other times, when he was alone?” “I can’s say, sir. I never eaw his dace; he seemed to take great pains to tld« it from me.” “One more question, Fleetwood. Ivy■hosh Lane is a lonely spot which one ■would not traverse for pleasure on darkcome nights. What took you there?” “It is near the graveyard, sir, where guy wife is buried.” His voice trembled with emotion. I (pressed his hand. “Let us keep this to ourselves." I said, (presently. “It will be the wiser course. (When my daughter Is married Mile. RoIsalle will leave our service.” At this moment, as' Fleetwood was (about to leave me. Eunice danced up to tea. It was a pleasure to look upon her (bright face, beaming as it was with hapiflnesa. Love's summer was hers; her lUfe waa filled with heavenly joy. In her (hand she held two posies. “Mile. Rosalie arranged them,” she •said. “She has the most exquisite taste. tOne for you, papa; and one for you, Mr. (Fleetwood.” Neither she nor my wife ever addressed him as an ordinary servant. He •accepted the posy reluctantly. A gift Ifrom the hands of Eunice would have •delighted him; but this from Mile. Ro•salte. I saw, was repugnant to him. “She has been speaking in such praise ►es you, Mr. Fleetwood I” continued Eunice. "You hnve quite won her heart. (You ought to be"prond: she is so sweet land good. Papa,” she said, ns we walked |a little aside from Fleetwood, “you have jc perfume about you; have you been (scenting yourseif?” “No, my darling.” I said, laughing at (the question. "But now you mention it, jl have had the fancy myself that there (was something more fragrant than usual (about me this morning." I suilTid up. and Eunice followed my •example merrily. "I know what it is, papa.” she Raid, tauddenly; “it is wood-violet. That is Mile. (Rosalie’s favorite perfume.” • “Indeed. Eunice,” I said; “I was not uiware of it. Somebody has been sprinkißng it upou me, I suppose. There, run |away. Fleetwood, I want you to go into the town for me and get me some books; ■I made out the list last night.” Fleetwood, at my summons, came to Aiy side, and I put my hand in the pocket of my coat for the list I (Bad written. I. drew It out, with something soft—a lady’s handkerchief, from pvhich floated the faint perfume of woodla iolet. As I held the handkerchief, in Wouie astonishment, in my hand, wonderIfeig how it could have got into my pocket, (Buy eyes lighted upon a name embroidered in a corner of the delicate trifle —the aame of Ro&nlic. Involuntarily the handkerchief fell from my hand, and fluttered to the ground, and before I had (time to stoop and pick it up Mile. Ro- • nlie darted forward, nud. seizing it, thrust it hastily into her pocket. “Thank you.” she said, softly; “thank you so much!” She tripped away, and Fleetwood, takfcig the list which 1 mechanically held out ♦o him, walked thoughtfully from the Igarden, his head bent upon his breast. It was this incident of Mile. Rosalie’s handkerchief which caused me so much ■discomfiture. I had no remembrance .whatever of placing it there. CHAPTER IV. Living in some style, as may be gathered from what I have already narrated. It may be supposed that I was rich. 1 was not. I paid no rent for the house ha which we resided, neither was it mine; and the money which supported it came not from my own resources. I will briefer describe the peculiar nature of my private' affairs. My father, for some years of his life an opulent man, loft his fortune when 1 was very young, partly through the ■ treachery of a friend, partly through un- ! wise speculation, and from the day of his I ■aim was dependent upon his wife’s brother, a gentleman of great wealth. Mr. Wilmot was at once generous and eccentric. He never had any great idea , of my father's business capacities; ami it is doing him uo injustice to say that j he was seif-willed and obstinate, and that ho entertained the idea that he should he not only a law unto himself, but to sther people as well It was through his assistance that my father extricated himself honorably from his business difficulties, and when they were settled my uudr refused to re-establish him. “You shall have a life of case and happiness.” said Mr. Wilmot, “and tliall son no more risks.” To this end he promised my father ■o income sufficiently large to maintain the social standing to which he had been accustomed. The promise ams faithfully kept. At the end of months a sum was placed in the bank to my lathes'* credit, in fulfillment of the arrange men(; and Mr. Wilmot who was and •who remained a bachelor, gave ns to uu4e**tand that at his death we should toheHt the whole of his wealth. Neither of my parents lived long to enjoy the so of luxurious ease for which Mr. WHmot’s generosity provided, and I re■Mifiasd the sole recipient of his kindmaaa. He paid liberally for my support and education; and K was with his concentrate that I became engaged to the BaKy I married. On that occasion he . purchased the little estate iu Sevenoaks. •a which I took my wife, and devised it Marly dependent upon him during his life-

At the time of my daughter’s engagement Mr. Wilmot* was absent from England, and I had no means of placing myself in communication with him. He was passionately fond of travel, and was in the habit of making long disappearances. During these periods it was his whim to he troubled bV no correapndence whatever, either from his friends or business agents. He wrote to them front, time to “thne,-Jmt never gave an address, nor would he consent to receive replies from them except upon matters-of, the highest private importance. All letters for., him were addressed, by request, to a firm of lawyers iu Ixmdon, who conducted his affairs, and there they accumulated until his return home. On the day that Mr. Clanronald asked of me the hand of Eunice for his son, 1 wrote fb'thos^ lawyers, saying that I had something of interest to communicate to Mr. Wilmot, and that I should feel obliged to them if they would give me his address. Their reply was to the effect that they had received strict instructions from their client to give his address abroad to no person whatever, and that they could make no exception in my favor. I wrote again, asking, if I sent a letter to Mr. Wilmot under cover to them, whether they would forward it to him. They replied that here again the instructions under which they acted were so strict and peremptory that they, could not depart from them. All letters which they received for Mr. Wilmot were dropped in sealed boxes, of which he had the keys. Once more I wrote, inquiring whether they were expecting Mr. Wilmot’s return home. In reply they stated that they did not know when he would return. Nothing was left for me to do but to write‘to Mr. Wilmot, acquainting him with the fact of my daughter’s engagement, and giving him every information in my power of the standing and character of the family into which she was about to marry. In this letter I made a delicate reference to the subject of settlements; and said that in my interview with Mr. Clanronald I had been compelled to ask for a postponement of this branch of the matter until my uncle returned to England. It was'with a feeling of Joy that one morning, among my letters, I recognized the handwriting of Mr. Wilmot. His letter, which I read with eagerness and anxiety, was addressed from Norway, and in it I received the welcome intelligence that we might expect his return to England within three months from the date of his writing. This information enabled me to give a satisfactory answer to Mr. Clanronald, who, in the course of the day, made an indirect the uncompleted business of my daugh ter’s settlements. It was not the first time that he had made such a reference, and hitherto I had always experienced a feeling of awkwardness in meeting it. Now I was quite at my ease. “I have received a letter," I said, “from Mr. Wilmot, who is at present in Norway, and within three months all will be arranged.” “Mr. Wilmot?” said Mr. Clanronald. in a tone of inquiry; and it was only then it struck me that I had never mentioned my uncle’s name before to him—there'being, indeed, no special reason for it. “My mother's brother,” I said, “who has made the most handsome promises in respect to Eunice’s future.’S“Y'es, yes!” said Mr. Clanronald, and seemed-to ponder upon the name, and not with pleasure, but nothing more was said. My uncle's letter contained something which I then regarded as of saiall importance, but which, in the near future, was destined to bring about the peril of my life. It was included in the following words; “Very soon after my return to England it is my intention to pay you a visit at Boscombe Lodge, and to trespass upon your hospitality for a few days. Meanwhile you can confer an obligation upon me. I have given Mr. Leonard Mortloek. a young gentleman in whom I take a deep interest, and who for three months has been my companion iu m.v travels, a letter of introduction to you, which he will present iu person. I wish him to become acquainted with you aud your family; I wish you to make a friend of'him. Any social courtesies and kindness which you can show hint I shall regird as extended to myself. You will find him an agreeable and charming person. and it Will afford me pleasure to learu that the association has been mutually pleasant.” The request, which could not have been i more distinctly conveyed, was to me and my wife a law, and we decided that when Mr. Leonard Mortloek made his appearance we would rfsk him to make our house his home for a while. My wife ! set about at once making the necessary ■ preparations for the expected visitor. We j had ample accommodations at our dis- , posal, there being at least half a dozen spare roms in our house. Eunice assist- , cd to make the preparations, delighted- ; at the opportunity of doing something in I return for Mr. Wilmot'a great generosI >ty. Two days after the receipt of my j uncle's letter Mr. Mortloek rent iu his | curd, and was warmly welcomed, j He was a man of good education, ; agreeable manners and smooth speech; and we judged his age to be thirty. From his conversation it was clear that he had seen a good deal of the world; and when I invited him' to stay with us as long as he wished to remain in the neighborhood. he accepted the invitation with cordiality. I looked upon him as much my uncle's guest as ours, and he was welcome to remain as long as it suited his convenience and pleasure. He was soon at his ease with ns, and we with him. My wife pronounced him to be a gentleman, and I concurred: Mile. Rosalie said that he was “delightful,” and .Was not backward in showing him attentions. Mr. Mortloek had much to tell us of Mr. Wilmot,. whom he evidently knew better than we did. He dilated upon my uncle's uniform kindness and consideration lor others, upon hje sound opinion of men and things, and, ‘lncidentally, upon his strength of character. “Whet I admire in him," said Mr. Mortloek; “is that, once having taken ■ certain view, once having resolved up-

on a certain course, he Is not to be turned from it by any argumenta that can be advanced against it.” During the week a small matter somewhat ruffled me. I was taking the letters out of the post-bag, preparatory to sending them to the postofflee by the hnnds of Samuel Fleetwood, when Mr. ■ Mortloek said:—— ,—«*— a letter by mistake into the bag.” There was not more than six or seven In all, and Mr. Mortloek, selecting the one to which he referred, took it from the little pile aud put it in his pocket. It was quite by accident that I saw it was addressed to my uncle. Mr. Mortlock, I concluded, was acquainted with my uncle’s address, of which I was kept ignorant, and was In communication with him, whereas I was debarred from the privilege. It was, ns I have said, a small matter, but it ruffled me. Our relative positions -should have given -me the advantage uncle's confidence, but this advantage Was held by another, who surely could nos be~so close to him as I was. I consoled myself j\vith the reflection that time was waning fast, and that my uncle would soon be home. Time, indeed, was flying. Two nbonths had elapsed since Mr- Mortloek set foot in our house,, and he evinced no inclination to put an end to his visit. Not in the remotest manner could I give him a hint subject. It would have been a breach aFhospitality; and yet I felt that his visit had been unduly prolonged. I did not feel at my ease, nor did my wife and daughter. There were reasons for this discomfort. First, it appeared to me that Mr. Mortloek was too strongly attracted toward Eunice. His attentions to her were marked by a tenderness which was not agreeable to her or us. There had been nothing concealed from him. He knew that Eunice and Harry Clanronald were engaged, and he could not but see that they were devotedly attached to each other. Was it, then, the conduct of an honorable man to introduce a discordant element into this engagement? Eunice took every pains to avoid Mr. Mortloek; and had he been either an observant pr a fair-minded man it would have been- impossible for him to mistake her meaning. But her avoidance of him did not cause him to abandon those marks of attention which were ro distasteful to her! Harry Clanronald's jealousy was openly demonstrated, and the two men now seldom exchanged a word. I must say that Mr. Mortloek took this iu good part, and that, so far as outward appearances went, his demeanor continued to be cheerful and well-bred, while Harry was sullen and occasionally offensive; and ns nothing seemed to disturb Mr. Mortlock's equanimity, Harry was placed at a conspicuous disadvantage in this antagonism. Another reason for my discomfort was the behavior of Mile. Rosalie. Between her-and Mr. Mortloek some kind of confidence seemed to be established of which I could not approve, and yet I could fix upon nothing which would warrant open censure.

CHAPTER V. There arrived another letter from Mr. Wilinot, conveying the welcome intelligence he would he with us in the cojirse of the ensuing week. “Xoff," I said, joyfully to my wife, “our troubles are coming to an end.” “I am not one to meet troubles half way,” she said iu explanation; "but it is as well to be prepared.” "Yes, my love,” I said. “What are you about to speak of?” “Of your uncle and Mr. Mortlock,” replied my wife. “It has been iu my inind for some little time past, but I was not sure, and, indeed, am not sure Your uncle says nothing in either of his letters of Eunice’s engagement.” “He cannot be aware of it. My letter to him, written on the day the engagement was entered into, remains, I am afraid, unopened in his lawyer’s office in London.” “There appears to be a close intimacy between him and Mr. Mortlock. It would not surprise me to learn that it is an affectionate intimacy. His first letter and the terms in which Mr. Mortlock speaks of him are almost an assurance of this. Whether I am right or wrong in my surmise, your uncle certainly has a very high opinion of Mr. Mortlock. Does it occur to you, Richard, that your uncle had any special object in asking us so strongly to make a friend of Mr. Mortlock?” “You think that he„ had Eunice in view when he asked us to make Mr. Mortlock welcome in our home?” “It is my fear,” said my wife. I reflected. The suggestion had (lever occurred to me, but with every passing moment of time it gathered weight now that my wife had mentioned it. “But before he arrives.” I said, “he will have read my letter announcing her engagement with Harry. Surely, in the face of that ” I paused, seeing from the expression on my wife's face, that I was making no impression upon her. “I am so much impressed,” she said, “by a certain phase in your uncle’s character which has been dwelt upon by Mr. Mortlock —I mean in regard to his being self-willed and obstinate when once he has made up his mind—that I cannot banish my fears. It is a painful subject, Richard; do not let us dwell upon it any longer. Hope is left to us, and we will cling to it.” This conversation made me moody and unhappy; there were so many contingencies depending upon my uncle’s whim. Minor incidents which occurred during the day passed lightly off, although on other occasions I should have deemed them of importance and have estimated them aright. I had lately perceived signs of falling health in Samuel Fleetwood, and had advised him to aovsult a doctor. He simply smiled, and said that it would be useless, as no doctors could do him good; but ns his bad symptoms continned, I desired onr own physician to see and examine Fleetwood. The physician's report was melancholy enough. He represented our faithful servant’s case to be hopeless, saying) he had heart disease and coaid not live through the year. It will be understood how deep would hare been the impression produced upon me by this sad news had I not been so terribly harassed by my own special anxieties. Before sundown Mile. Rosalie also played her part. In anticipation of my ancle’s visit, and desiring that be should see Boscomhe Lodge at Us best, I had given Instructions to my gardener, which he said ho could not carry out alone. I empowered him to hire a man to assist him, and he told ms had done so. I was satisfied to leave the matter to him; he had been in mr serv : -** many

years, and had served me well. All that I knew of the man he had engaged was his name—Redwing. When the gardener came to me on Saturday for wages, I asked how Redwing suited him. “Oh, pretty well, sir,” was the reply; “he isn’t all he made himself out to be, but I shall manage.” And my gardener being content, so was I. At the beginning of the week I myself saw Redwing for -the time, tie did not appear to be overexerting himself; and this, and the fact that he was a good-looking fellow, comprised my observations of him. I return now to the incident in which Mile. Rosalie played a part on the evening of the day on whleh I received my uncle’s second letter. r (To be Continued.)