10
THE SUNDAY OREGOXIAX. PORTLAND, JANUARY o. 1908.
w
r HEN we reached Bow street we
were relieved to find that our
prisoner, after all, had not evaded
us. It was a false alarm. He was there
with tht, policeman, and he kindly al
lowed us to make the first formal charge
against him.
Of course, on Charles' sworn declara
tion and my own, the man was at once
remanded, blileing refused, owing both
to the serious nature of the charge and
the slippery character of the prisoner's
antecedents. We went back to Mayfalr
Charles well satisfied that the man he
dreaded was under lock and key; myself
not too well pleased to think that th
man I dreaded was no longer at large,
and that the trifling little episode of the
10 per cent commission stood so near dis
covery. Next day the police came round in
force and had a long consultation with
Charles and myself. They strongly urged
that two other persons at least should be
included in the charge Ccsarine and the
little woman whom we had variously
known as Mme. Picardet. "White Hea
ther," Mrs. David Granton and Mrs. Ellhu
Quackenboss. If these accomplices were
arrested, they said, we could include con
spiracy as one count in the indictment,
which gave us an extra chance of con
viction. Now they had got Colonel Clay,
in fact, they naturally desired to keep
liim, and also to indict with him as many
as possible of his pals and confederates.
Here, however, a difficulty arose.
Charles called me aside with a grave
face into the library.
"Seymour," he said, fixing me, "this is
a serious business. I will not lightly
swear away any wunian's character.
Colonel Clay himself or, rather, Paul
Fingelmore Is an abandoned rogue whom
I do not desire to screen in any degree.
But poor little Mune. Picardet she may
be his lawful wife, and she may have
acted implicitly under his orders. Be
sides, I don't know wiiethcr I could swear
to his Identity. Here's the photograph
the police bring of the woman they be
lieve to be Colonel Clay's chief female
accomplice. Now, I ask you, does it in
the least degree resemble that clever and
amusing and charming little creature who
has so often deceived us?"
In spite of Charles' gibes, I flatter my
self 1 do really understand the whole
duty of a secretary. It was clear from
his voice ho did not wish me to recog
nize her; which, as it happened, I did
not.
"Certainly,- it doesn't resemble her,
Charles," I answered, with conviction in
my voice. "I should never have known
her." But I did not add that I should no
more have known Colonel Clay himself
in his character of Paul Fingelmore, or
of Cesarlne'B young man, as that remark
lay clearly outside my secretarial func
tions. Nevertheless it flitted across my mind
at the time that the Seer had made some
casual remarks at Nice about a letter in
Charles' pocket, presumably from Mme.
Picardet; and I reflected further that
Mme. Picardet in turn might possibly
hold certain answers of Charles', couched
In such terms as he might reasonably de
sire to conceal from Amelia. Indeed, I
must allow that under whatever disguise
"White Heather" appeared to us, Charles
was always that disguise's devoted slave
from the first moment he met it. It oc
curred to me, therefore, that the clever
little woman call her what you will
might be the holder of more than one
Indiscreet communication.
"Under these circumstances," Charles
went oil, in his austerest voice, "I can
not consent to be a party to the arrest
of 'White Heather." I I decline to iden
tify her. In point of fact" he grew
more emphatic as he went on "I don't
think there is an atom of evidence of
any sort against her. Not," he continued,
after a pause, "that I wish, in any de
gree, to screen the guilty. Cesarine, now
Cesarine we have liked and trusted.
She has betrayed our trust. She has sold
us to this fellow. I have no doubt at all
that she gave him tho diamonds from
Amelia's riviere; that she took us by ar
rangement to meet him at Sehloss Leban
stein; that she opened and sent to him
my letter to Lord Cralg-EIIachic. There
fore, I say, we ought to arrest Cesarine.
But not 'White Heather' not Jessie; not
that pretty Mrs. Quackenboss. Let the
guilty suffer; why strike at the innocent
or, at the worst, misguided?"
"Charles," 1 exclaimed, with warmth,
"your sentiments do you honor. You are
a man of feeling. And 'White Heather,"
1 allow, is pretty enough and clever
enough to be forgiven anything. You
may rely upon my discretion. I will
swear through thick and thin that I do
not recognize this woman as Mme. Pi
cardet." Charles clasped my hand in silence.
"Seymour." he said, after a pause, with
marked emotion, "1 felt sure I could rely
upon your er honor and Integrity. I
have been rough upon you sometimes.
But I ask yo,ur forgiveness. I see you
understand the whole duties of your po
sition." We went out again, better friends than
we had been for months. I hoped, indeed,
this pleasant little incident might help
to neutralize the possible 111 effects of the
10 per. cent disclosure, should Flnglemore
take It into his head to betray me to
my employer. As we emerged Into the
drawing-room Amelia beckoned me aside
toward her boudoir for a moment.
"Seymour," she said to me. In a dis
tinctly frightened tone, "I have treat
ed you h.-irshly at times, I know, and
I am very sorry for it. But I want
you to help me in a most painful diffi
culty. The police are quite right as to
the chargo of conspiracy; that design
ing little minx, 'White Heather," or
Mrs. David Granton, or whatever else
we're to call her, ought certainly to
be prosecuted and sent to prison, too
and have her absurd head of hair cut
short and combed straight for her.
But and you will help me here, I'm
sure, dear Seymour I cannot allow
them to arrest my Cesarine. I don't
pretend to say Cesarine Isn't guilty;
the girl has behaved most ungrateful
ly to me. She has robbed me right
and left, and deceived me without
compunction. Still I put it to you as
a married man can any woman afford
to go Into the witness box, to be cross
examined and teased by her own maid,
or by a brute of a barrister on her
maid's information? I assure you, Sey
mour, the thing's not to be dreamt of.
There are details ot a lady's life
known only to her maid which can
not bo made public. Explain as much
of this as you think well to Charles,
and make him understand that If he In
sists upon arresting Cesarine I shall go
Into the box utid swear T head oft
to prevent uny one of tne gang from
being convicted.- I have told Cesarine
as much; I have promised to help her.
I have explained that I am her friend
and that if she'll stand by me I'll stand
by her, and by this hateful young man
of hers."
I saw in a moment how things went.
Neither Charles nor Amelia could face
cross-examination on the subject of one
of Colonel Clay's accomplices. No doubt
in Amelia's case it was merely a ques
tion of rotige and hair dye; but -what
woman would not sooner confess to a
forgery or a murder than to those toi
let secrets?
t returned to Charles, therefore, and
spent half an hour in composing, as
well as I might, these little domestic
difficulties. In tho end it was arranged
that if Charles did his best to protect
Being An Incident in the Life of a Master "Rogue
Cesarine from arrest Amelia would
consent to do her best In return on
behalf of Mme. Picardet.
We had the next police tackle a more
difficult business. Still, even they were
reasonable. They had caught Colonel
Clay, they believed, but their chance of
convicting him depended entirely upon
Charles' identification, with mine to back
It. The more they urged the necessity
of arresting the female confederates, how
ever, the more stoutly did Charles declare
that for his part he could by no means
make sure of Colonel Clay himself, while
he utterly declined to give evidence of
any sort against either of the women. It
was a difficult case, he said, and he fen
fr from confident even about the man.
If his decision faltered, and he failed to
identify, the case was closed; no jury
could convict with nothing to convict
upon.
At last the police gave way. . -No other
course wa9 open to them. They had
made an important capture, but they saw
No. XI. The Episode of the Old Bailey
BY GRANT ALLEN
tion," our leading counsel Interposed. "It
does not bear on the prosecutor's evi
dence. It is purely recriminatory."
Colonel Clay was all bland deference.
"I wish, my lord," he said, turning
traits which turned out. by Independent
evidence, to be taken from other people.
The Judgo summed up in a caustic. way.
which was pleasant to neither party. He
asked the Jury to dismiss from their
minds entirely the impression created by
what he frankly described as "Sir Charles
Vandrift's obvious dishonesty." They
must not allow the fact that he was a.
millionaire and a particularly shady one
round, "to show that the prosecutor is I to prejudice their feelings in favor of
emnly gone through on purpose to
blind us to the obvious truth that
Colonel Clay was already In full pos
session of all such facts about us. It
was by Cesarine's aid, again, that he
became possessed of Amelia's dia
monds, that he received the letter ad
dressed to Lord praig-Ellachie, and
that he managed to dupe us over the
Sehloss Lebenstein business. Never
theless, all these things Charles deter
mined to conceal in court; he did not
give the police a Bingle fact that would
turn against either Cesarine or Mme.
pj.,..r,i,.t.
As for Cesarine, of course she left
"I'm sorry it's him, Sey," my brother-in-law
whispered in my ear. (He said him,
not he, because, whatever else Charles is,
he is not a pedant; the English language
as it is spoken by most educated men is
quite good enough for his purpose.) "I
only wish it had been .r Edward Easy.
Easy's a man ot the world and a man of
society; he would feel for a person in my
posftion. He wouldn't allow these beasts
of lawyers to badger and pester me. He
would back his order. But Rhadamanth
Is one of your modern K)rt of judges,
who make a merit of being what they
call 'conscientious" and won't hush up
anything. I admit I'm afraid of him. I
whom I had not noticed till then, rose up,
unobtrusively, near the middle of the
court, where he was seated beside Cesar
ine. "Look at that gentleman," the pris
oner said, waving one .hand and pounc
ing upon the prosecutor.
Charles turned and looked at the per
son indicated. His face grew still
whiter. It was to all outer appear
ances the Rev. Richard Brabazon in
propria persona.
Of course, I saw the trick. This was
the real parson upon whose outer man
Colonel Clay- had modeled his little
curate. But the jury was shaken. And
that everything depended upon securing
their witnesses, and the witnesses, if in
terfered with, were likely to swear to
absolutely nothing.
Indeed, as it turned out, before the pre
liminary investigation at Bow Street was
completed (with the usual remands),
Charles had been thrown into such a
state of agitation that he wished he nad
never caught the Colonel at all.
"I wonder, Sey," he said to me, "why I
didn't orfcr the rascal $2000 a year to go
right off to Australia, and be rid of him
forever! It would have been cheaper for
my reputation than keeping him about in
courts of law in England. .The worst of
It Is. when once the best ot men gets
into a witness box there's no saying with
what shreds and tatters of character he
may at last come out of It!"
"In your case. Charles," I answered du
tifully, "there can be no such doubt: ex
cept, perhaps, as regards the Cralg-Kl-lachie
Consolidated."
Then came the endless bother of "get
ting up" the ease with the police and the
lawyers. Charles would have retired
from it altogether by that time. but,. most
unfortunately, he was bound over to
prosecute.
"You couldn't take a lump sum to let
me off'T he said, jokingly, to the insp.3
tor. But I knew in my heart it was one
of the "true words spoken in jest" that
the proverb tells of.
Ofcourse, we could see now the whole
building up of the great intrigue. It had
been planned as carefully as the Tichborne
swindle. Young Flnglemore. as the
brother of Charles' broker, knew from the
outset all about his affairs, and. after
a gentle course of preliminary roguery,
he laid his plans deep for a campaign
against my brother-in-law. Everything
had been deliberately designed before
hand. A place had been found for
Cesarine as Amelia's maid needless to
say, by means of forged testimonials.
Through her aid the swindler had suc
ceeded In learning still more of the fam
ily ways and habits and had acquired a
knowledge of. certain facts which he
proceeded forthwith to use against us.
His first attack, as the seer, had been
cleverly designed so as to give us the
idea that we were a mere casual prey;
and it did not escape Charles' notice
now that the detail of getting Mme.
Picardet to Inquire at the Credit JMar
stlllais about bis bank had been sol-
the house immediately after the arrest
of the Colonel, and we heard of her no
more till the day of the trial.
When that great day came I never
saw a more striking sight than the Old
Bailey presented. It was crammed to
overflowing. Charles arrived early, ac
companied by his solicitor. He was so
white and troubled that he looked much
more like prisoner than prosecutor.
Outside the court a pretty little wom
an stood, pale and anxious. A re
spectful crowd stared at her silently.
"Who is that?" Charles asked. Though
we could both of us guess, rather than
see. it was "White Heather."
"That's the prisoner's wife, the in
spector on duty replied. "She's waiting
to see him enter. I'm sorry for her,
poor thing. She's a perfect lady."
"So she seems," Charles answered,
scarcely daring to face her.
At that moment she turned. Her eyes
fell upon him. Charles paused for a
second and looked faltering. There
was in those eyes just the faintest
gleam of pleading recognition, but not
a trace of the old saucy, defiant vi
vacity. Charles framed his lips to
words, but without uttering a sound.
Unless I greatly mistake, the words he
framed on his lips were these: "I will
do my best for him."
We pushed our way in, assisted by the
police. Inside the court we saw a lady
seated. In a quiet black dress, with a be
coming bonnet. A n.oment passed before
I knew it was Cesarine.
"Who is that person?" Charles asked
once more of the nearest inspector, desir
ing to see in what way he would describe
her.
And once more the answer came,
"That's the prisoner's wife, sir."
Charles started back surprised. "But
I was told a lady outside was Mrs. Paul
Flnglemore." he broke in, much puzzled.
"Very likely," the inspector replied,
unmoved. "We have plenty that way.
When a gentleman has as many aliases
as Colonel Clay, you can hardly expect
him to be over-particular about having
only one wife between them,- can you?"
"Ah. I see." Charles muttered in a
shocked voice. "Bigamy!"
The inspector looked stony. "Well, not
exactly tr." he replied, "occasional
marriage."
Mr. Justice Rhadamanth tried the case.
shall be glad when it's over."
"Oh, you'll pull through all right," I
said In my capacity as secretary. But I
didnt think it.
The judge took his seat. The prisoner
was brought in. Every eye seemed bent
upon him. He was neatly and, plainly
dressed, and, rogue though he was, I
must honestly confess he looked at least
a gentleman. His manner was defiant,
not abject like Charles'. He knew he was
at bay, and he turned like a man to face
his accusers.
We had two or three counts on the
charge, and, after some formal business,
Sir Charles Vandrift was put into the box
to bear witness against b mglemore.
Prisoner was unrepresented. Counsel
had been offered him, but he refused their
aid. The judge even advised him to ac
cept their help, but Colonel Clay, as we
all called him mentally still, declined to
avail himself of the judge's suggestion.
"I am a barrister myself, my lord," he
said "called some nine years ago. I can
conduct my own , defense, I venture to
think, better than any of these my
learne brethren."
Charles went through his examination-in-chief
quite swimmingly. He answered
with promptitude. He identified the pris
oner without the slightest hesitation a?
the man who had swindled him under
the various disguises of the Rev. Richard
Poploe Brabazon, the Hon. David Gran
ton. Count von Lebenstein, Professor
Schlc-iermachcr, Dr. Quackenboss, and
others. He had not the slightest doubt
of the man's- identity. He could, swear to
him anywhere.
I thought.- for my own part, he was a
trifle too cocksure. A certain amount of
hesitation would have been better policy.
As to the various swindles, he detailed
them in full, his evidence to be supple
mented by that of bank officials and
other subordinates. In short, he left
Finglemcre not a leg to stand upon.
When it came to the cross-examination,
however, matters began to assume quite
a different complexion. The prisoner set
out by questioning Si- Charles' Identifica
tions. Was he sure of his man? He
handed Charles a photograph.
"Is that the person who represented
himself as the Rev. Richard Peploe Bra
bazon?" he .asked, persuasively.
Charles admitted It without a moment's
delay.
Just at that moment a little parson.
so was Charles for a moment. ,
"Let the Jurors see the photograph,"
the Judge' said, authoritatively.
It was passed around the Jury box,
and the Judge also examined it. We
could see at once, by their faces and
attitudes, they all recognized It as the
portrait of the clergyman before them
not of the prisoner in the dock, who
stood there smiling blandly at Charles'
discomfiture.
The clergyman sat down. At the
same moment the prisoner produced a
second photograph.
"Now, ca you tell me who that is?"
he asked Charles, in the regular brow
beating Old Bailey voice.
With somewhat more hesitation.
Charles answered, after a pause:
"That is yourself as you appeared In
London when you came In the" disguise
of the Graf von Lebenstein."
This was a crucial point, for the
Lebenstein fraud was the one count on
which our lawyers relied to prove their
case most fully, within the Jurisdic
tion. Even while Charles spoke a gentle
man whom I had noticed before, sitting
beside "White Heather," with a hand
kerchief to his face, roce as abruptly
as the parson. Colonel Clay indicated
him with a graceful movement of the
hand.
"And t-hls geltleman?"he asked calmly.
Charles was fairly staggered. It was
the obvious original of the false Von
Lebenstein.
The photograph went round the box
once more. The jury smiled Incredu
lously. Charles had given himself
away. His overweening confidence and
certainty had ruined him.
Then Colonel Clay, leaning forward,
and looking quite engaging, began a
new line of cross-examination.
"Wre have seen. Sir Charles," he said,
"that we cannot implicitly trust your
identification. Now let us see how far
we can trust your other evidence. First,
then, about those diamonds. You tried
to buy them, did you not. from a per
son who represented himself as the
Rev. Richard Brabazon. because you
believed he thought they were paste:
and if you could, you would have given
him 10 or so for them. Do you think
that was honest?"
"I object to this line of cross-examina-
person unworthy of credence in any
way. I desire to proceed upon the well
known legal maxim of falsus in uno,
falsus in omnibus. I believe I am per
mitted to shake the witness' credit?'"
"The prisoner is entirely within his
rights," Rhadamanth answered, looking
severely at Charles. "And I was wrong
in suggesting that he needed the advice
or assistance of counsel."
Charles wriggled visibly. Colonel Clay
perked up. Bit by bit. with dexterous
questions, Charles was made to acknowl
edge that he wanted to buy diamonds at
the price of paste, knowing them to be
real; and, a millionaire himself, would
gladly . have diddled a poor curate out
of a couple of thousand.
"I was entitled tr take advantage of
my special knowledge," Charles mur
mured, feebly. v
"Oh. certainly." the prisoner answered.
"But, while professing friendship and af
fection for a clergyman and his wife,
in straightented circumstances, you were
prepared, it seems, to take 3900 worth
of goods off their hands for 10, if you
could have got them at that price. Is
not that so?"
Charles was compelled to admit It.
The prisoner went on to the David
Granton incident.
"When -you offered to amalgamate with
Lord Craig-Ellachle." he asked, "had you
or had you not heard that a gold-bearing
reef ran straight from your conces
sion into Lord Craig-Kllachie's. and that
his portion of the reef was by far the
larger and more Important?"
Charles wriggled again, and our counsel
interposed: but Rhadamanth was adain
ant. ' Charles had to allow it.
And so. too. with the incident of the
slump In Golcondas. Unwillingly, shame
facedly, by torturing steps, Charles was
compelled to confess that hu had sold out
Golcondas he, the chairman of the com
pany, after repeated declarations to
shareholders and others that he would
do no such thing because he thought
Professor Eohlelcrmacher had made dia
monds worthless. He had endeavored to
save himself by ruining his company.
Charles tried to brazen it out with re
marks to the effect that business was
business.
"And fraud is fraud," Rhadamanth
added In his pungent way.
"A man must protect himself," Charles
burst out.
"At tho expense of those who have
put their trust In his honor and integ
rity." the Judge commented coldly.
After four mortal hours of it, all to
the same effect, my respected brother-in-law
left the witness box at last,
wiping his brow and biting his lip, with
the very air of a culprit. His character
had received a most serious blow. While
he stood In the witness box all the
world had felt It was he. who was the
accused and Colonel Clay who was the
prosecutor. He was convicted on his
own evidence of having tried to induce
the supposed David .Granton to sell his
father s Interests Into" an enemy's hands
and of every other shady trick into
which his well-known business aeute
ness had unfortunately hurried him
during the course 'of his adventures.
I had but one consolation In my
brother-in-law's misfortunes and that
was the thought that a due sense of his
own shortcomings might possibly make
him more lenient in the end to the trivial
misdemeanors of a poor beggar of a
secretary !
I was the next in the box. I do not de
sire to enlarge upon my own achieve
ments. I will draw a decent veil. Indeed,
over the painful scene that ensued when
I finished my evidence. I can only say I
was more cautious than Charles in my
recognition of the photographs: but I
found myself particularly worried and
harried over other parts of my cross
examination. Especially was I shaken
about that misguided step I took In the
matter of the check for the Lebenstein
commission a check which Colonel Clay
handed to me with the utmost polite
ness, requesting to know whether or not
it bore my signature. I caught Charles'
eye at the end of the episode, and I ven
ture to say the expression it wore was
one of relief that I, too. had tripped over
a trifling question of 10 per cent on the
purchase money of the castle.
Altogether, I must admit, if It had not
been for the police evidence, we would
have failed to' make a case against our
man at all. But the police, I confess,
had got Jip their part of the prosecution
admirably. Now that they knew Colonel
Clay to be really Paul Flnglemore, they
showed with 'great cleverness how Paul
Flnglemore's disappearance and reappear
ance in London exactly tallied with Col
onel Clay's appearances and disappear
ances elsewhere, under the guise of the
little curate, the Seer. David Granton,
and the rest of them.
Furthermore, they showed experimen
tally how the prisoner at the bar might
have got himself up In the various char
acters, and, by means of a wax bust,
modeled by Dr. Boddersley from observa
tions at Bow street, and aided by addi
tions In the gutta percha composition
after Dolly Lingfield'a photographs, they
succeeded m proving that the face as It
stood could be readily transformed into
the faces of Medhurst and David Gran
ton. Altogether, their cleverness and
trained acumen made -up on the whole
for Charles' over-certainty, and they suc
ceeded In putting before the jury a strong
case of their own against Paul Flngle
more. The trial occupied three days. After
the first of the three, my respected
brother-in-law preferred, as he said, not
to prejudice the case against the pris
oner by appearing in court again. He
did not even allude to the little matter
of the 10 per cent commission .further
man to say at dinner that evening that
all men were bound to protect their own
Interests as secretaries or as principals.
This I took for forgiveness, and I con
tinued diligently to attend the trial, and
watch the case in my employer's Interest.
The defense was ingenious, even If
somewhat halting. It consisted simply of
an anempi to prove throughout that
Charles and I had made our prisoner the
victim of a mistaken identity. Flngle
more" put into the box the Ingenuous
pnginai or ine little curate the Rev.
Septimus Porkington, as it turned out. a
friend of his family; and he showed that
it was the Rev. Septimus himself who
bad sat to a photographer In Baker atrwt
for the portrait which Charles too has
tily mentined as that of Colonel Clav In
his personification of Mr. Richard Bra-
Da zon.
ne runner elicited the fact that the
portrait of the Count von Lebenstein was
really taken from Dr. Julius Keppel.
Tyrolese music master, residing at Bal
liam, whom he put Into the box. and who
was well known. as It chanced, to the
foreman of the jury. Gradually he made
it clear to us that no portraits existed of
i-oionel Clay at all, except Dolly Ling-
field's so it dawned upon me by degrees
that even Dr. Beddersley could only have
been misled If we had succeeded In find
ing for him the alleged photographs of
Colonel Clay as the Count and the curate,
which had been shown us by Medhurst.
Altogether, the prisoner based his defense
upon the fact that no more than two wit
nesses directly Identified him. while one
of those two had positively sworn that
he recognized as the prisoner's two por-
the prisoner. Even the richest and
vilest of men must be protected. Be
sides, this was a public question.
If a rogue cheated a rogue, he must
still be punishe. If a murderer stabbed
or shot a murderer, he must still he hung
for It. Society must see that the worst
of thieves were not preyed upon by
others. Therefore, the proved facts thHt
Sir Charles Vandrift. with all his mil
lions, had meanly tried to cheat the
prisoner, or some other poor person, out
of valuable diamonds had basely tried to
juggle Lord ejraig-ElUchia's mines into
his own hands had vilely tried to bribe
a son to betray his father had directly
tried, by underhand means, to save his
own money, nt the risk of destroying tho
wealth of others who had trusted to his
prohlty these proved facts must not
blind them to the truth that the prisoner
at the ba: (if he were reallj- Colonel
Clay) whs an abandoned swindler. To
that point alone they must confute their
attention, and if they were convinced
that the prisoner was shown to be the
self-same man who appeared on various
occasions as David Granton. as Von Leb
enstein, as Medhurst. as Schleicrmacher,
they must find him guilty.
As to that point, also, the Judge com
mented on the obvious strength of the
police rase, and the fact that the pris
oner had not attempted in any one out
of so many instances to prove an alibi.
Surely. If lie were not Colonel Clay, the
jury should ask themselves, must It not
have been simple and easy for him to do
so? Finally, the Judge summed tip all
the elements of doubt in the Identifica
tion and ail the elements ot probability,
and left It to the Jury to draw their own
conclusions.
They retired at the end to consider
their verdict. While they were absent
every eye in court was fixed on the
prisoner. But Paul Finglomore himself
looked steadily towards the further end
of the hall, where two pale-faced wom
en sat together, with handkerchiefs In
their hands, and eyes red with weping.
Only then, as he stood there, awaiting
the verdict, with a fixed white face, pre
pared for everything, did I begin to;
realize with what courage and pluck that;
one lone man had sustained so long an'
unequal content against wealth, authori
ty, and all the governments of Europe,
aided by his own skill and two feeble
women. Only then did I feel he had
played his reckless game through all
those years with this ever before him!
I found It hard to picture.
The jury filed slowly back. There
was dead silence in court as the clerk
put the question. "Do 'you find tne
prisoner at the bar guilty or not guil
ty r
"We find him guilty."
"On all the counts?"
"On all the counts of the Indictment."
The women at the back burst into tears,
unanimously.
- Mr. Justice Rhadamanth addressed
the prisoner, '.lave you anything to
urge." he asked In a very stern tone.
"in mitigation of whatever sentence
the court may see fit to pass upon you?"
Nothing. the prisoner answered.
just faltering slightly. "I have
brought It upon . myself but T have
protected the lives ot those dearest
to me. I have fought hard for my
own hand. I admit my crime, and
will face my punishment. I only re
gret that, since we were both of
of St. Michael and St. George: 10
us rogues myself and the prosecutor
the lesser rogue should have stood
here in the dock, and the greater In
the witness box. Our country takes
care to decorate each accordingly to
his deserts to him. the Grand Cross
me. the Broad Arrow!"
The Judge gazed at him severely.
"Paul Flnglemore," he said, passing
sentence in his sardonic way, "you
have chosen to dedicate to the service
of fraud abilities and attainments
which, If turned from the outset into a
legitimate channel, would no doubt
have sufficed to secure you without
excessive effort a subsistence one de- -gree
. above starvation possibly even,
"with good luck, a sordid and squalid
competence. You have preferred to
embark them on a lawless life of vice
and crime and I will not deney that
you seem to have had a good run for
your money. Society, however, whoso
mouthpiece I am, cannot allow you
any longer to mock it with Impunity.
You have broken Its laws openly, and
you have been found out." He as
sumed the tone of a bland conde
scension which always heralds his
severest moments. "I sentence you to 14
years' imprisonment, with hard labor. "
The prisoner bowed, without losing
his apparent composure. But his eyes
strayed away again to the far end
of the hall, where the two weeping
women, with a sudden sharp cry, fell
at once In a faint on one another's
shoulders, and were with difficulty re
moved from the court by the ushers.
As we left the room, I heard but one
comment all around, thus voiced by a
schoolboy: "I'd a Jolly sight rather It
had been old Vandrift. This Clay
chap's too clever by half to waste on
a prison!"
When all was over. Charles rushed
off to Cannes, to get away from the Im
pertinent stare of London. Amelia and
Isibel and I went with him. We were
driving one afternoon on the hills
beyond the town, among the myrtle
and the lentisk scrub, when we noticed
in front of us a nice victoria, con
taining two ladies In very deep mourn
ing. We followed It. unintentionally,
as far as Le Grand Pin that big pins
tree that looks across the bay toward.
Antibcs. There, the ladles descended
and sat down on a knoll, gazing out
disconsolately toward the sea and tho
islands. . It was evident they were
suffering very deep grief. Their faces
were pale and their eyes bloodshot.
"Poor things!" Amelia said. Then their
tone altered suddenly.
"Why, good gracious!" she cried, "If it
isr.'t Ceasarine!"
So it was with "White Heather.
Chailes rot down and drew near them.
"I Le? your pardon," he said, raising
his hat and addressing Mme. Picardet;
"I believe I have had the pleasure of
meeting you. And since I have doubt
less paid in the end for your victoria,
may I venture to inquire for whom you
are In mourning?"
"White Heather" drew back, sobbing;
but Caesarlne turned o him, fiery red,
with the mien of a lady.
"For him!" she answered; "for Paul!
for our king whom you have imprisoned!
As long as he remains there, we navs
both of u decided to wear mourning for
ever!" Charles raised his hat again, and drew
back without one word. He waved his
hand to Amelia and walked home with
me to Cannes. He seemed deeply de
jected. "A penny for your thoughts!" I ex
claimed, at last, In a Jocular tone, trying
to rouse him.
He turned to me and sighed.
"I was wondering," he answered, "if I
had gone to prison, would Amelia and
Isabel have done as much for me?"
For myself I did not wonder. 1 knew
pretty well. For Charles, you will admit,
though the bigger rogue of the two. Is
scarcely tho kind of a rosue to Inspire a
woman with profound affection.