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PURSUED BY THE LAW,

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[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.] PURSUED BY THE LAW, BY J. MACLAREN COBBAN. Author of "The Red Sultan," "The Avenger of Blood," "Wilt Thou Have this Woman ? Her Royal Highness's Love Affair," The Tyrants of Kool-Sim," The White Kaid of the Atlas," The Burden of Isabel," &c., &c. [ COPYRIGHT.] SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTERS 1. & II.—James Graham, a young and strong man, works at the Fotheringay Engine Works. He is visited by his father, a scamp who had neglected his wife and son, and of whom both stood in dread and had left. James Graham told him that he could not see him in business hours. On going home, he is horrified to find the dead body of his father lying on the floor of his home. His mother tells him that his father had come to the house, and, falling on the rug, had caught his head on the fender, and had died. A stranger appears at the house and asks after the elder Graham, the son saying that he had gone. The latter resolves to inform the police, and take the blame of the fatality on his own shoulders, to screen his mother. His sweetheart approves of his determination, and he leaves the house for the purpose. CHAPTERS III. to V.—Nelly Clemance waits for her lover, but he does not return, and she then ascer- tains that he has been detained at the Police Office. A coroner's inquest is held on the body, and a verdict of Manslaughter' returned against James Graham. He receives a letter from the stranger who had called to see his father offering professional assistance, and the police also receive a letter stating that the deceased had been shot. On the body being examined, a wound is found on the back, and a needle with a flattened head extracted. This is found to fit an air gun which had belonged to James Graham, and the case looks blacker than ever against him. CHAPTERS VI. & VII.—Nellie implores Mr Towns- hend, the stranger who takes an interest in Graham, to do all he can to save him. Graham is sentenced to fifteen years' penal servitude. Nellie manages to give him secretly a toothpick containing a letter. CHAPTER VIII.—ON THE NIGHT EXPRESS. The Great Western night mail was humming and Quivering on its appointed way like a sleeping top. It had taken more than its five minutes' rest at Reading, and had worked up again to that high speed which is like the ideal of standing still. In a reserved third- class smoking compartment were James Graham and two warders. The night, the smoke, and the humming motion combined to make them drowsy; moreover, the warders had no anxiety about their prisoner he Was quiet and docile, a new lag,' handcuffed, and far too down in the mouth to give any trouble. Do you mind my having this window open ?' asked the prisoner. I'm not much used to tobacco smoke, and I should like a breath of air.' Oh, no they did not mind his having the window open a breath of fresh air was little to ask for, poor wretch So the window was let down-the window on the left side of the train—and the handcuffed prisoner aat by it, let the soft night air play upon his face, and gazed out upon the dark, flat landscape, while the two warders smoked and talked together, like good com- rades. For a man who was merely refreshing himself with the cool air, James Graham's manner and attitude were curiously tense, watchful, and alert. Why P The problem of escape was confronting him. The little quill so cleverly passed to him by Nelly contained a closely-written, pregnant scrap of paper (which having committed to memory he forthwithcommitted to digestion) to the following effect he repeated to himself the points again and again :—' When train has got up speed after Reading, ask to have left window down, and sit by it. Wait till right window is broken by a stone or something; then get through your Window.' (An undertaking Nelly must have told Townshend he was an active jumper). Creep along footboard forward to 1st class compartment. Find bundle hanging out of its window. Take bundle and leap. Bundle will have all you need. On right side of line is a road where Mr T. will wait with a trap. lie will do the rest. The arrangements, though in Nelly's hand, were plainly Mr T.'s'. Why should Mr T.' take such an interest in him ? Such questions, however, were more than useless at the moment they they obstructed attention and shook resolution. And the desperate chance of escape he was firmly, unswer- vingly resolved to try. Suddenly the signal came A stone, or some similar raissile, crashed upon and broke the window on the right. Both the warders jumped up to open the smashed Window and look out. On the instant, the handcuffed Prisoner rose, drew back a step, and then without hesitation, with hands out like a diver, he plunged through the open window on his own side. At the sound he made, the warders turned swiftly, to see all of their Prisoner gone head downward—all but his legs. That was his game they cried. Well, I'm hlowed No, you don't That last in answer to a fierce kick administered to the warder who had managed to seize hold of an escaping foot. One foot was gone through the window, with the rest of the prisoner; but the warder kept tight hold of the other, and by main force endeavoured to haul the Prisoner in again. But that was more than any one man was equal to, and before the second could do any- thing to aid him, with a fierce wriggle the foot was gone leaving the boot in the warder's hand. Imagine the giddy and perilous situation of James Graham, out there clinging close to the footboard with RII his might, while the train still hummed and oscillated and spun at its highest speed through the night To remain where he was would be speedy recapture for he could not doubt that by means of the communication cord the train would be drawn up in a few seconds To fling himself off would probably mean death, or broken bones, and still capture But there was hope In the probably' :—certain re-capture if he stayed, Probable death if he leaped. What man of spirit and courage would hesitate to leap ? But first (in fulfillment of his secret instructions) he must get forward to the Nearest first-class compartment. He lay flat for an instant on the dusty footboard, clinging to the support- ing iron rod with the fingers of his manacled hands, and gripping the wood with knees and feet. His hope was that thus lying close in the dark the warders would not See him, and would think he had already leaped off. lie began to crawl like a serpent, slipping forward his hands to pull himself and pushing himself with knee and foot. He approached a wheel, and it roared at him like a ferocious brute whose den was invaded, pouring over him a furious stream of dust and dirt and stones. He came to the gap between one carnage and another. In the horror and noise of the occasion it seemed an llnfathomable raging gulf. But he must bridge it over with his body. Slowly he came to another roaring and furious wheel. My God was that the hiss of the brake being applied ? Were they drawing up already ? And would he be lound thus and ignominiously taken again ? ^o. The hiss of the break seized. There had been a touch of it in bending round a slight curv*. Then for- ward again with hand and knee, and foot, with the heart of desperate hope in his ftiouth, and urgent fear behind like a demon of the pit, he crept, and crept, with Scarce a conscious breath. How long it seemed—and and yet he spent but a few seconds thus He reached the desired door. Out of its window hung a bundle. He could not spare his hands, but Jfith his teeth he tugged at it as well as he could. A ^ead that was on the watch peeped out a little further. Right said a voice. Graham felt that the hold on the bundle was let go. Then, with a glance out at the run of the ground, he Commended his soul to God, clasped the bundle against his breast, and launched away like a shot from a cannon, flying through the air with his knees doubled up, a little outward, but mainly forward, with the ila.Ine swiftness as the train, of which he was Merely a detached fragment. H# was a practised long- |*u*per but never before had he taken so swift, and breathless a jump as that He shot away over t^ low boundary fence of the railway, far into a ploughed boundary fence of the railway, far into a ploughed field. He rolled over and over in the soft mould, hud finally was buried deep in a furrow. In a second he picked himself out of the soft bed, Astonished to find he was unhurt, though somewhat dazed, and still more astonished to hear the rush and hum of the train diminish in the distance, with no apparent slackening of speed. Could it really be that he had escaped with such comparative ease ? Not altogether yet was he out of the wood there was still difficult part of it to pass. If the warders had failed to stop the train, he knew it would not draw up till it Cached Didcot, and iheBe, he was certain, the news of his escape would be flashed far and near. He prepared to make the most of hit time. With dizzy, buzzing bead, hatless, half-bootless, and pasted up with mud, he clutched his precious bundle with his manacled hands, Itnd sought with all possible speed the nearest side of tye field, which was that at ri^ht angles to the railway. 1ft the ditch he sat down and hurriedly undid his buHdle. rhe first thing he sought for there was a hie. Nor ^as it difficult to find, being the hardest thing of all. He tested the file with his tongue (it was a tool he Was familiar with), and he found it excellent, He Messed that a hinge cut would be the quickest way of l'elease and taking the end of the file in his teeth he d so to use it. But there was no resistive force in that hold. The gnarled stem of an old hedgetree was lose at hand. He went to it r stuck one end of the file the bark and the other in his mouth and then, with the practised skill of his craft, worked the chosen hinge to and fro on the biting edge. He could not see, but he %uld feel with unerring judgment; and after a few 8econds of his skilled application he bare upon the-hinge, t\n.d it broke away. One wrist--the right—was thus left free ',Id bare. He hesitated whether he should spend precious seconds in freeing the other but a vision of himself Accosted, in daylight perhaps, with a manacle dangling from his hand, determined him. He setto with energy Upon the other hinge. Speedily it gave and he took Jhe pieces, and flung them over the field, this way and that. If I ever submit to wear such things again,' he de- clared to himself, passionately, may my hands rot •# t > Then to the other conteats of the bundle he went with will, and nimble, free, fingers. He had occasion to Mmire the attention and foresight which must have bestowed on the choice of these things. There was It complete suit of his own from home, a pair of soeks, And a pair of boots. Also there was a soft, felt hat, of the wide-awake »orl—a hat whieh actually fitted him i 1 This must be Nelly's doing—like the rest said he to himself. She knows my size, bless her j In a few hurried minutes lie had exchanged his muddy garments for these and, completely arrayed from head to foot, with the dirty clothes now in the bundle he set off to meet Townshend. It was with a great reluctance that he returned to the railway for who knew hut searchers might already be speeding back to seek him ? But to find Townshend the line must be crossed. He trudged forward on the edge of the ditch, and, as he approached the line, observed that lie was close to a road, which, dipping deep into the land, ran under the railway. With a thrill of horror he considered that a second longer on the footboard, and when he leaped he might have launched himself into that road, and broken his neck But the horror was surmounted by a kind of supersti- tion of hope for, if lie, providentially, had escaped that, he might, providentially, escape other and perhaps worse things He descended into the road, and so passed under the railway. The road led back along the line, and he had barely got into the straight of it when he saw a horse and trap hovering down upon him, with two glowing lamps like monstrous eyes. When they met, it stopped, and he stopped. A man in a bowler hat and a thick driving coat leaned down from his perch in the dog-cart. Can you tell me——' he began in a voice of sonorous deliberation. But the recognition was mutual: the light of the lamp fell full upon Graham's face, and its upward rays revealed the unmistakeable visage of Townshend—the fleshy hawk nose and heavy moustache, and the flashing eye-glass. Mr Townshend ?' queried Graham. Ah, Mr Graham,' said Townshend. Very good. Very good indeed. Jump up here. We've hit it off beautifully. Toss that bundle under the seat first,' said he, flinging open the apron. And feel in there; you'll find an overcoat. You'd better put it on; we have a long drive before us.' Graham did as he w.ia bid, without a word, and drew out the overcoat. It proved to be a fur coat-probably: Townshend's own, which he had worn on the only other occasion on which Graham had seen him. Do you mean this ? asked Graham. What ? Of course, said Townshend, adding in his impressive and sonorous fashion, This is not a tailor's shop, to give you much choice. On with it. We're losing time.' Graham put it on, and jumped up into the vacant seat beside Townshend; and with a flick of the whip they were off. Not hurt anywhere P asked Townshend. Not broken any bones ? But I need hardly ask; you would'nt be so active if you had got much damage.' ri No damage at all,' said Graham, his spirits rapidly rising with the growing sense of freedom, and complete escape, which the self-possession of Townshend and the swift pace of the horse much contributed to. I shot into a ploughed field as if it were a pit of gawdust; it was a bouncing bang-nothing more.' And you have got the darbies off P With the good file you supplied me,' answered Graham, showing his bare wrists. Really,' said Townshend, proudly, it's a very neat j(>b-the verv nentestiob of the kind I've ever known,' And I have to thank you, Mr Townshend,' said Graham, 'for contriving the whole business. I don't know why,' he added bluntly, you have taken so mnch interest in me, but I thank you all the same-I may say all the more.' 'The devil, man!' exclaimed Townshend, sonorously, flicking the horse with the whip. Don't let us begin thanks and congratulations yet it might be unlucky. Wait till we've done the business. You are not clear off yet. Look at that engine and brake coming up the line. I'll wager that brings a search party from Didcot. They had passed under the railway again by the arch through which Grah!im had come, and were spinning along the road which now clung to the left side of the line. Where are we going ?' said Graham. To Oxford,' answered Townshend promptly. I have a very good and learned friend who is a don of one of the colleges. We'll put up with him for a day or two; he'll be very glad to have us he is usually very dull.' Graham was silent, half-troubled, half-amazed. Who was this strange man, who was apparently a clever man about town, who had known his father, and who yet consorted with learned college dons P For Graham knew that these two kinds of men usually lived at opposite poles of the world of gentility. CHAPTER IX.—THE MAN WITH THE BURNT SCAB, Graham trusted completely to Townshend he could do nothing else, not even if he wished to. And they drove steadily through the night, occasionally drawing up by a sign-post to read the directions by the light of one of the lamps. Townshend was choosing cross and little frequented roads, and meant to strike that upper highway into Oxford which enters by St Clement's. As soon as it was light enough Townshend suggested that Graham should be shaved would he prefer to shave himself P I have never used a razor in my life,' answered Graham. Ah, then,' said Townshend, I had better do it. I have all the appliances.' The trap was stopped; Townshend got out from under the seat a dressing-case, and Graham brought some water from the flowing ditch. A cold water shave is not an undiluted joy,' said Townshend, but it is better than to be seen again with that black mat about your cheeks.' The shaving was done with pain, but it was done- Townshend making a clean sweep of the whole of Graham's virgin beard. Heavens exclaimed Townshend. What a change That ought to do it! Your sweetheart wouldn't know you By Gad he went on, you are your father's son. Look at that obstinate jaw and chin I shouldn't like to have to work against you in anything You look like a Roman medal! They'll want a cast of your head for their classic collection in the Bodleian. You look like the Emperor Trajan, or Napoleon, or like Cecil Rhodes, by gad!' You're a capital barber, in word as well as deed,' said Graham. My friend,' said Townshend, with distinction and dignity, I am proud to be able to do anything that is necessary if it were necessary, I think I should have a try at carving your leg off.' They rose from the bank where they had been occupied, and were about to re-mount the dog-cart. Come out Townshend suddenly exelaimed, frown- ing in a terrible manner. Come out of that and show yourself And he pointed a threatening forefinger across the road. A young man-plainly a tramp-dishevelled, dirty, and of generally wretched aspect, crept through the opposite hedge, came forward a step or two, and stopped, frightened but scowling. He had the scar of a burn over his left cheek-bone, which made his appearance more sinister. Now kindly inform me who you are said Townshend. Can't yer see P* said the man. I'm a working man on the pad for a job.' What is your trade ?' demanded Townshend. Are you a blooming beak ?' demanded the man. Well, yes in a sense I am,' said Townshend. Well, yes you are said the man, nodding with emphasis. And a proper beak, too, you've got, mister No cheek, my friend,' said Townshend you,ll find it best. What's your trade, my padding friend ?' 4 Blacksmith—engineer,' he answered, sulkily. Show your hands to this gentleman,' said Towns- hend. Out with them.' The man showed his hands to Graham. Has he ever worked ?' asked Townshend. ) Oh, yes he has worked,' said Graham. Perhaps he is a blacksmith.' Now, my friend, look here,' said Townshend finally, with his forefinger out. If you really are a blacksmith, and want a job, I'm disposed to be kind to you. Get on to London as fast as you can go to The Fly-on-the- Wheel Inn at Turnham Green-' I know it, said the man. You know it very well. Ask for Mr Nares and say you were seat by F.T., Number One. He'll give you something to do that will be worth your while.' Right you are, sir,' said the man, with apparent heartiness, but his look was sidelong and suspicious. Off with you, then,' said Townshend, putting a half-sovereign into his dirty hand, and get some break- fast as soon as you can. Mr Nares will be good to you if you go to him.' Thank ye, sir,' said the man, and drawing his coat about him he hobbled off. Townshend with a frown jumped into his deg-cart, and Graham followed him. 'It's a deuce of a pity!' he exclaimed presently, flicking the horse. And the worst of it is I've made a mistake over it I should not have stayed and spoken to the fellow ? But—hang it !—a man cannot always be wise And this is the one wrong touch in an ad- mirable performance Well,' he added with a smile, you must stick closer and longer in Oxford.' Graham said nothing he only wondered and was anxious he wondered why Mr Townshend, evidently a man of some distinction and fashion-why he should have intimate relations with a publican, and should send to him a cryptic message, and he was anxious lest the sinister tramp should suspect presently who he was. He uttered something of that last by and by to Town- shend, It's a new risk, of course,' said Townshend. But I think there's not nmeh in it a tramp doesn't read the papers, and if he hears anything he wont under- stand.' And so they drove steadily forward and neither guessed that they were carrying with them the man they doubted, clinging to their axle-bar. Hidden by the high hedge, he had cut across a field round which the road bent, and had slipped out behind them at the opportune moment. They drove into Oxford just before morning chapel at the colleges; and the man dropped on the road when they came among houses. Having put up horse and trap Townshend went to the rooms of his friend in one of the colleges. The kindly pedant (who had spent years on the construction of a monumental work on the Greek Irregular Verbs) received them with effusion and without suspicion, and entertained them to a sufficient breakfast. After breakfast, the scholar, with many apologies that he must lecture, bade them be at ease in his rooms, and went his way. Then Graham, having turned the situation over in his mind, and looked around him, declared that before many hours he must clear out of that. wl],y ? Iexclaimed Townshend. What for? You are in comfort; it must be an agreeable and extra- ordinary change and nobody, not even the sharpest- nosed detective of them all, would think of smelling you out here But I have my work to do,' said Graham, quietly, Work P' said Townshend in amazement. The man has had his life burst up he has just escaped from prison andi penal servitude i and his first thomght is 'Work to do What work ? Blacksmithing ? Engineering ?--like our friend the tramp ?' That, of course,' said Graham, promptly. But my great work is to get my valve patented I've been working on it in the prison—in my head. When I've got it fixed up for this country,' said he, in a tone of resolute matter-of-fact, I'm going to take it to America.' Oh, you are, are you ?' said Townshend, screwing his eye-glass into his eye to consider this phenomenon of a man. 'I think,' he continued solemnly, you make a mistake, you know. To return to your old games will be to tempt discovery. You really can't afford to do that!' And how am I to live ?' asked Graham, bluntly. I thought,' said Townshend, that you might have been agreeable to joining me. I have taken an enormous liking to you-I have really,' he insisted, quite honestly doubtless, but with a tone, as of patronage, which Graham deeply resented. I have some great schemes on hand and if you stick to me, and help me in them- you can help-you will find yourself better off than as an engineer or the owner of a patent valve.' I am much obliged to you, Mr Townshend,' said Graham. And you will excuge me, but what is the business in which I could join, or help you P If it is fair to ask, what are you ?' I am-er-a Free Banker,' said Townshend, with that odd lifting of the heavy moustache which meant a smile. Oh,' said Graham, was my father a Free Banker, too ?-at least, when you knew him ?' 'We had financial transactions together,' said Towns- hend, lightly, as if the question were of no moment. 'It was tojfind the money to meet a financial transaction of his that I accompanied him that afternoon to your neighbourhood. Hinc illae lachrymae This is a proper place, I suppose,' said Graham, 'for such quotation. I understand it, I think. But the point is I must thank you very much for your interest in me, and still keep to my determination to go as soon as possible.' And he felt for his watch, but there was no watch there. 'Oh,' persisted Townskend. you are bent upon going, then ? I am certain you make a mistake. I'm your luck. Separate yourself from me and you are done for, I believe. I did think-yes, by gad, I did !-that we should go on together!' The compunction, and the dread of ingratitude smote James Graham. But, Mr Townshend, what can I do with you he demanded. I'm not a free banker! I'm not a banker at all!' At that Townshend uttered aloud a sonorous peal of laughter. I think,' said he, impressively, I could soon in- struct you in the doctrines of free banking.' But,' said Graham, I can never bear to sit all day at a desk. I'd wilt and die of it!' I'd never think of setting you down at a desk,' said Townshend and again that odd smile lifted the heavy moustache. I owe you a great deal,' said Graham, and I should like to oblige you but I should like to go on and settle my valve first. Look here, Mr Townshend you have heard or read of inventors starving and dying for their invention; well, I'm like that. It may be a small in- vention, but its all I have, and I must see it produced.' Very well, my friend,' said Townshend go your own way, in God's name But—mark my words !— disaster will come of it! You don't know the world as I do I'm not boasting, but you'll come to my view at last. I don't blame you; what is the good of blaming any man ? He goes like a wound-up watch he can't help himself, But when you're run down think again of Townshend, 25, Jermyn Street.' That night, after dark, Graham and Townshend stood on the northern railway platform at Oxford. Graham had a third-class ticket to [Birmingham in his pocket, and two pounds in money; he had refused to borrow any more, though much more had been pressed upon him. At the last moment, when Graham was. bidding his distinguished and mysterious friend Good-bye,' neither observed a man with a burnt scar on his cheek rush from the waiting-room and enter the train. About a month later James Graham was toiling np one of the steep and winding roads which lead over hill and moor from Yorkshire into Lancashire. He had reached his last shilling. After fruitless efforts to get employment in and around Birmingham he had tramped from one iron town to another, but nowhere would they have him. He looked respectable, but he was without tools, he was without a character, and above all he was without a Society ticket, and no employer dare even give him a chance. Worn with hunger and anxiety, with sick heart and embittered soul, he was now about to try his luck in busy, generous Lancashire. The way was long and stiff, for the wide Allerton Moor lies fair, and high, and fresh, and far above the din and smoke of both Yorkshire and Lancashire. At the top of the ascent is an insignificant village a mere handful of poor grey cottages, clinging as it were, by the eyebrows to the edge of the steep; but it is of some consequence, because it contains a police-station and a beerhouse. When Graham reached the bare, wretched little village he was thirsty and hot, in spite of the shrewd March wind and he entered the beer-house (which was opposite the police station) to rest for a little and to spend a penny on a draught of home-brewed ale. He had barely sat down by the window of the little tap-room, with his tipple at his elbow and his cheek sadly resting on his hand, when he heard a man's voice ordering a pint of ale. There was a pause which the man seemed to fill with drinking, for he presently spoke thus I say, missus, do folk ever get drunk on this P' Drunk, mon ?' said the woman of the house-a solid, shrewd old dame. Noa but lots get brasted.' (burst). Graham was smiling to himself at the answer, when the man entered and stood before him. Heavens It was the tramp with the burnt scar on his cheek He had scarcely time to wonder whether the man would recognise him or no, when-with a low and scoundrelly leer-he spoke, while he proceeded to light up a very dirty and strong-smelling cutty pipe. A stiff pull up this 'ere bloomin' hill, mister,' said he. It is,' said Graham. And, by gum, you've made it a sweater for me.' How's that ?' asked Graham, with dread of what was coming fluttering about his heart to enter. Well, when I came acrost you I thought I knowed you. And now that I've come up so far, nothing could be primer. There's the Station just exactly opposite and there's a bill there on the board-One Hundred Pounds Reward!' Graham knew there was he had already seen it there as he came in, as-well as outside other Police Stations. The man paused an instant, to let his words have their full effect. One Hundred Pounds is a tidy bit for a pore feller like me, and I think I could earn it. All I've got to do is to step acrost the road and say I can put my hand on the cove wot's wanted. And, s'welp me, but I believe I will!' He paused again, and looked at Graham and Graham looked at him with set face, but without a word. lTo BE CONTINUED.]

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