Welsh Newspapers

Search 15 million Welsh newspaper articles

Hide Articles List

12 articles on this Page

[PUBLISHED BT SPECIAL ABBANGEKENT.J…

News
Cite
Share

[PUBLISHED BT SPECIAL ABBANGEKENT.J THE IRON HAND. By J. MACLAREN COBBAN, .N Tho I aA I Aatbof of "Pursued by the Law," "The Alive," "The Angel of the Covenant," The Mystery of the Golden Tooth," fee., &c. ■ 1 [COPrEIGHT.] 1 SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAFTERS. CHAPTERS 1. and II.—The scene opens in a curiosity shop at Finborough, where an old genftemaa is wishing to buy an old steel gaunact. But it is already sold to the manager of the CouiVy Bank, Mr, Lidmore. After the gentle- man's departure Lefroy informs his wife, Julia, that Mr. Lidmore. has bought the gauntlet. TheW to leave for London, and afterwards go out tor a stroll. During the following night the gauntlet is stolen. In the morning Lefroy is awakened by hearing voice?. He thrusts hid head out of the window and finds that the con- versation is taking place in the rocm overhead between two men, one of them Mr. Lidmore, and j it txjnoerns himself. The superintendent of police joiILi the two men, and Lefroy hears more. The! ViHIIIC safe has been robbed, and £ 30,COO stolen. The bank manager give? details of how he bought the. steel gauntlet, and of how it was found caughc in the grip of the patent lock. Lefroy is sus- pected, an d also his wife as his accomplice. He rouaee his wife, and gives her ten minutes to get ready. An ostler in the ooachyard below is har- r.e-^ing a mare in a high trap to carry Mr. j Lidmore'a "friend" to Redbeck-a distance of twenty milea. Lefroy orders a trap for himself and proffers to hold the mare's head while the •ostier goes to the bar. Lefroy gets his wife. and child into the trap, springs in himself, and they are,Aoff I Boon they hear cries of Stop Thicft" OHAPTERS III. and IV.—The young oouple get clear away. They visit Lefroy's old nurse, Martha, who lives at a farm on the moorland. j There the baby is left in the good woman's care, while Julia. goes up to London alone. Lefroy reiip-n* with the mare and gives himself up. The following day he goes before the magistrates. All the evidence is against him, and he is com- mitted for trial at the next Assizes. In the afroon he is taken to the county town to gaol. A gill gets into the same compartment, and when the, two policemen who have Lefroy n charge have fallen asleep she informs the prisoner that her father. Tippy Haynes, and others, are in the robbery. CHAPTERS V- and VI.—Lefroy lies irt gaol soma six weeks. A briefless barrister named lownshond undertakes his case. Lefroy relates his rencontre w th Sal Haynes. and the barrister Pays her a special visit, but the girl denieB the whole thing. When, as a result of the trial. -ho is condemned to penal servitude for life, Sal Haynes. who is in the front gallery, goes into hysteric. At the final interview with his counsel Lefroy gives him Julia's present address, and a diary he has written for her. The barrister promises to obtain possession of the gauntlet if possible, and to do all ho can for Lefroy. Mr. Townshend im- mediately after tha dosing of the trial goes to tho «tabon, where, to his surprise, he finds Sal Haynes. and with hf-r a man whom the barrister recognises as Tippy Haynes. Townshend takes his seat in tLo train, and then notes a stalwart feliow on the piir° iform. A smaller man. well dressed, comes up to this stranger and ealutes him as Struthers, who, in turn, hails him as Mr. Evans. They get into the. same compartment as the barrister. Towns- hend learns that Evans is the man who deals in czkfas, and that he sold that particular safe to the County Bank. At Redbeck Junction they get out to change nes. Wli I- parading the phtform Townshond sees tho two men a^aiu in company with Tippy Hay no, and his daughter. Sal Haynes murmurs "Y liat's hI im" to Townshend as she; passes, leaving the barrister a bit bewildered as to which man she means. Ho determines to follow: theam They get into a train from FinbortHigh, and. just as the train is on the move, Townshend dashes, as he thinks into the same comperfment, onty to find himself alone with Sal, Tippy Hayaes's j daughter. CHAPTER VII. SAL HAYNES. i It was not easy for Townshend to accept- the fact with good temper. He. ha.d been cleverly and completely "done," and ho was by no means aura thajt, the girl who sat before him had not oon-, triouted to that result; yet, if he indulged in ■ objurgation at all, it was below his breach. Th1* girl was singularly still and silent, con- si. dering tho situation and it was a second or two, for the 1 ttla oil lamp in tho roof of the carriage -6hed a poor dim I;F,-ht, before Townshend <1 early t'law that she was silent because something was tied over her mouth, and that she could not untie it herself because her hands were bound behind her. "I beg your pardon," said he while ¡"n, fixed hi3, £ ye-gla38 securely, "but I did not notice at firsj that there was anything wrong with you. Allow me." He stooped forward and undid the gag on her mouth, while tears started in her large dark cves. "My hands am tied," she said; "and my feet are tied too If you let loose my hands, I can see to my f&ot myself." But sho could not-, and Town-hend had.to:untie her foot also, for they were bound tightly with a handkerchief to the middle prop of the seat. When i' sho was set quite free, she got up and shook her- self. Then she sat down and stormed and wept, calling herself and those. who had mishandled bar. the most opprobious names; she seemed to have a violent temper and a remarkable power of epaeoh. Turned into readable* words, her tirade- was something like this "They shan't treat me like this for nothing t I'll pay them out for this -that old scoundrel, my father, most of all! I've been too good to him and he has been nothing but bad to m I Oh. I wish I had him here I I d teli him a few things I know about h m that he doesn't think I know I" Townshend tiyed to divert her stream of indig- nation, and to make it coherent- • "L suppose," said he. "they guessed yon had «poken to me about them 7" "Of course they did!" said she. "And they thought you might come in here, so they sloped. I said I was not going to run about all aver the shop with them, and then my blessed old father said I should stay where I was; and they tied me up!" 'They'-you mean your father and both the other men?" No; I mean my father and the man they oall Evans. I don't know anything about the other man." "'Then," sa.d Townshend, "when you said 'That's him" you meant Evans?" "Of course I did. Who else should I meant" "W(\U, you see," said Townshend, "I didn't, I know which you might mean. How should i tn "T don't know I" said she. "I did!" "Now don't you think," said Townshend, gcatly, :tha.t it would have been Ixitter if you had told me what ru know yesterday evening instead of j this evowng Y If you had, I might ha.ve got the, tnai put ott to-day, and poor Lefroy need not have g,A6p. to prison, a condemned man. Don't you see .tiln?" "I see it, plain enough said Sal. "I ain't a fool!" "No," said Townshend, soothingly, "I don't think you are." "1 was thinking of my father," said she;- "but I ain't going to think of him any more. He don't deserve it. Besides—after this, he'd kill me. I ain't never going to see him again!" Then, of a sudden, Townahend perceived that the girl was in a desperate, tragic situation, and he pitied her. "What are you going to do?" he a-ked. "r d'n know!" she answered- "I suppose I can get something to do. I'll go to London. He's goulsj to Portland or Dartmoor, ain't he? "You mean Mr. Lefroy? No. Not at first. The first nine months he'll have the hardest of hard labour and solitary co n tine men t in a local prison; and then iii-I it finish his term in a con- vict pri -son "He shan't finish if I can help it." said the girl. Then to pity succeeded something like adioira- j tion in Townshend's Losom.. The girl seemed so young; she was so slight and so white; ^ad she seemed so friendless and alone, and yet so se-li reliant and so resolute, tlat- How old are you, may I ask?" said be. "I'll be eighteen come the 25th of November," she answered. "Yau axe young," said he, to start tiff all alone." "I'm older than I look." said she; by which, he supposed, she meant she was old in experience of life; and that, he opined, was probably truo. "Quito so," said he. Ho thought a moment; he might do something to help the girl, v.ho oor- tamjy seemed deserving of help. "Do you mind if I smoke a cigarette?'' "Qh, smoke awa&" said she. "Don't miad me. I like the smell." "Well, now," said he, while lie rolled a cigarette, "if you really think you had better go to London I II give you the addresi of a lady I know, and a note to take to her. And—you'll excuse my ask- ing—Jiave you any money to start with?' iti "I've got five shillings," she answered. "That won t go far, said he, while his charac- teristic &nih fluttered his moustache. "If you will acoept a small loan from me you may get on all ngtit, "Thank you," said she, sulkily it seemed, but Townshend, who had understanding, thought it was only shyly. "The lady you mention, she ■continued, "would she want me for a servant?" "Perhaps," answered Townshend. "1 oouldn't be that," she said, shaking her head. "I can t do house work." "But you might learn," suggested Townshend, persuasively. "I ain't been brought up to it; I shouldn't liko it." --At any rate, you can go and seo the lady," said Townshend. She considered a moment, and scratched her .round white chin. • PVaf>8," said she, and T /wnsherid followed the line of her thought, which was evidently to make clear that what information she- could give was not worth a great prioe, "p'r'aps you think I know flsiore about that burglary at the bank than I do. I don't know much, reaL'y. I'll tell yoa all I know. I saw that man Evans coiae to my father's Ebop ami have a talk with him I saw them both go out, and I followed them-" "What time was thtt?" asked Townshend. "It was betweon twelve and one in the morning. And I saw them get into Mr. Lefroy s shop. Then I was frightened, and ran away home. I don't know anything about the breaking into the bank; but my father d'dn't come home for more than an hour after m." "Well," said Townshend, "if you didn t see everything, you saw a good deal—though perhaps not enough to clear Lefroy. But you and I will clear him yet between us." "They I-,iust have been fools," said she, with. energy. "that ever thought he did it He's a, J gentifffian- I used to see him about in F. in- bot-Mgh. and I know." Townshend smiled at the staunchness of her belief—smiled aloud at her further declaration "But I didn't like his wife. She was A lady, too; but too much of a lady. She didu t like having to do with a shop; you oould see that with half an eye. And why did she go away and leave i him alone with his trouble?" "He made her go," answered Townshend. "Made her go!" said she, in contempt. "I wouldn't have gone for all his Thus they ai-r ved at Finborough. He pressed upon her, and she accepted, a loan of three sovereigns, and he gave her at the same time his London addresi. She was still resolved to go to London the very next day. She declarcd sli, would not go near her father's house—she was too much afmid-but she had frieitds with whom she could lodge for tha nignt; and she promised to oall at a certain hour at Mr. Townslwnd's hotel for the address of the lady and the note to her which he had promised. Sally Haynes oalled for the lady's address and the note; but, so far as Townshend could learn "n his return to London she did not use them. He on his part set himself to fulfil his promise to Lafroy to discover J uta. Galotti and deliver to her the d'ary with which he had been entrusted. And in a casual way he put to the test what Sally Haynes had told him about the man Evans. Hc called at the address in G-oodge-street that was printed upon the card Evans had given him, and found that it was only a newspaper shop where letters were received; and so suspicion clung more closely to Evans. But he could not give all his time to these in-, quiries. for ho had his profession to attend to, and a living to make; it was, therefore, a. month and more ere ho had completed his search for Lefroy's wife. It is unnecessary to give the de- tails of that search, for it came to nothing. In sum it came to this: —He sought out the friends at Hammersmith, to whom Julia. had been corn- mended by her husband, but he could not find them; they had been gone from their address for more than six months, so that, in all probability, Julia had not found them either. He then tried to find her by writing to her a letter "poste restiiite. Hammersmith," but to that letter he received no answer, although he found on inquiry at the post-office that the letter had been rendered up. What more could he do? He considered and waited; and whilo he considered and waited the urgency of the matter became less and less in s stent in hi mind. Now and again he thought that Sally Haynes might be of great use in the search, for, by her own account, she know Mrs. Lefroy; but of Sally he heard nothing, and he did not oven know if she had come to London. Thus month was added to month, and Towns- hend was no nearer the discovery of Julia. Galoth than he had been at the first, attempt. He must not be seriously blamed, for his own situation in life and his prospects were becoming anxious and embarrassed. It happened, however, that in the summer he was sharply reminded of Lefroy's pathetc situation. At the summer session; of the Old Bailey there appeared as witness in a in which he was engaged a prisoner from that very prison where Lefroy was undergoing the pr>' liminary part of his long sentence. The man was in convict's dre^s. and looked very thin and 11. Compunction smote Townshend's he-art. In what condition might not the innoceat Lefroy now b, in the dread loneliness and silence of his imprison ment, tormented probably with anxiety about his wife, and without a word concerning her welfare." Townshend knew that the rule was very strict concerning communication w.th convicts during the first nine months of a. severe sentence; but those nine months were very nearly expired and he determined to try to speak with him, evell ■ although he had nothing very cheering to coin municate. He contrived to get an introduction to the governor of the prison, and with that recommen dation he journeyed to the prison, and made the attempt to see Lefroy. He saw the governor. Th" governor lstcned to him politely, but at the re quest to see a prisoner he slowly shook his head. "T am afraid," aaid he. "that can't be managed Is this Lefroy at all a friend of yours?" "I was couasel for him at the trial," answered Townshend; "and I was very much interested in him. I m-y say here—privately—that I am con- vinced tho man was condemned by mistake. The governor drummed the table. "Hut" continued Townshend, apart from that, I liked him: and I promised, among other things, that I would make nquirios after some friend- of his—in particular, after a certain Julia Galotti. I wish to tell h;m that I have not been able to find Julia. Galotti; besides that, i I have. nothing to Say except to exchange a friendly, cheer;m.' word with him." "You know the rule, Mr. Townshend." said t .e governor; "I can't transgress ib. Besides—t-ho man's name s Lefroy you say?—I rather think he is in hospital. But I'l I get my book and see." He rang the bell and ordered such and such: book to he brought from his office, and while he wa;t8d for it he made some seasonable and s'n- sible remarks on the weather. When the book was brought, he referred to it promptly. "I thought so." said he. "Lefroy has been in hospital for three weeks-with pneumonia; th' latest report is that be ii mend ing. He is a. wc-11 oonducted prisoner. So you see, Mr. Townshend, it is quite 'mpossib'e for you to have. an mt r view wth him But I will do this for you I will go to him myself and give him your message. Let me see"—ho drew pen and paper towards him— "you said the woman's name is Galotti?" "Julia Galatt:—G-a-l o-t t-i," said Townshend. "And you have not been able to find her?" "As yet," said Townshend, resolving he would make another attempt. And so the governor wrote. "V ery well," s. d he; and rose. "I am sorry. Mr. Townshend i havo not been abl" to be of so much service to yow as I would have liked to be." And thus they parted. It was perhaps a. week lats-r that Townshend, in looking through his morning paper, came upon th:< heading—Remarkable Escape from Prison" He noted at once that the prison was that in which Lefroy was confined and he read with interest- with a sudden swell of interest, when he dis- covered that Lefroy was concerned. Lefroy (he read) and another prisoner nam: d Jackson were convalescent from the prison hospital, and Jack- son. be ng a plumber when he was in tho outer world, was set with Lefroy to repair a large water cistern. They were thus close to the roof, and frequently hidden in the- course of their occupa- tion. Of these two tacts they took advantage early in tho morning to attempt an escape. They got away over a. roof and across a yard to the outer wall. That they managed to scalo; but ou = descending on the other side, one of them- Lefroy. said the newspaper-fell and broke his spine, and wai picked up soon afterwards dead. Tlie other man got away. Lefroy dead I It was a terrible shock to Towns hend. Yet, he thought, it was perhaps better so —better that he should die now than drag out a wretched, broken existence after, it might have been, years of imprisonment. Then ho wondered if Lefioy's wife would read, or hear, the news Very likely she would not; and he resolved he; would go himself and give a last look at the ull-I fortunate man. He travelled to the prison again, and taK, i. ng advantage of his slight acquaintance with the governor, he sent in his name. The governor received him with alaority. "Well. Mr. Townshend, have you brought me word of your friend Lefroywas his extraor- dinary greeting. j "Word of Lefroy? exclaimed Townsheiid. i "Lefroy is dead, is he not?" "It's the fitst I've heard of it," said the; governor; whereupon Townshend shewed him the newspaper. "No," said he-and m a tone of offence as if it were Townshend s fault— that s not true. Lefroy ha3 got away; it is tha other I man that's dead." But it was Townshend that took tha trouble to I contradic t tnc report which the newspapers had published, and ho isuied the contradiction in tho hope that Lofroy's wife might read it. I CHAPTER VIII. I I FORBID I I have sustained from dwelling upon Lerroy s experiences in prison. It is as improper as it is easy to wring the heart with descriptions of the I buttering of a dog or of a child, and it would be equally cheap and improper to htCcrate the fed- ino-\ of readers with a detailed account of the way in which imprisonment and prison discipline bite into the -oul ?f a man like Lefroy—? man. of sen- s.bihty ?ud educ&t?n. Besides, it would be un- fair to do so; for a wrong impression would be given of the effect commonly produced by legal punishment upon those ocnvicted of crime. It is enough to say t.hat the ordinary punishments of crime are not devised for such as hev and if such as ho get innocently caught in them they arc inevitab,y hit harder and torn more piteously than those for whom they are intended. The punishments of the law are meant for criminals; and Lefrcy was not a criminal. Lefroy was neither sulky nor desperate. He accepted his situation, not like a savage brute, but like a man. He was calm, in the supremo oonfiden.ee that somehow or other his innocence would yet be made- clear. But he had a con- stantly wearing and corroding anxiety—his wife. Where was she? How was she? He was easy about his child; for he had heard several times of her welfare while he still awaited trial, and he knew that his oid nurse would be a. mother to her; but his v,ife-h is Julia, for whom his heart and &oul longed night and day!—of her he had heard no word at all! It was that horrible anxiety eating into his life—that far more than prison hardships—which sent him into hospital. When tho governor delivered to him Towns- bend's message concerning Julia, he was plunged into despair. He had hitherto discounted his fears concerning his wife by the hope that, al- I though he had heard nothing, Mr. Townshend had discovered her, and was probably giving her friendly tendance. But with the disappearance of that hope he was lost. Then a .swift revulsion of feeling came. At all hazards, at all costs, he must get out, and look for Julia himself. It has already been suggested how he escaped; and there is no need to say much more about it. To a clever and resolute man escape, in the cir- cumstances, was not very difficult. The prison was an old one—one of those called "castles"- and it lacked that simplicity of building arrange- ment which so effectually hinders escape from modern prisons; Lefroy and his companion were more or le-s free to act, on account of the occupa- I tion to which they had been set; and that occupation supplied them with certain tools and ropes. Their real difficult came when they thought all difficulty was pagt-whon they were on the top of the outer wall. There they dis- covered that the drop down into the outside world was quite half as great again as the ascent from the prison yard had been. The rope, with a big hook that caught on the top of the wall, was short of the bottom of the wide ditch outside by some twenty feet. "You go first," said Lefroy to the other. You are lighter than I, and I can hold the rope for you; that will make it two or three feet longer." So Jackson went first. He hung and swung uncertain for a second or two at the end of the ropa, and then let himself fall, rather than leaped. He fell awkwardly, and with a thud and a groan. He lay where he fell. That sight did not tend to nerve Lefroy for the attempt. But he set his mouth, fastened the hook upon the bricks, and descended hand over hand. Arrived at the end of the rope, he did what Jackson had agreed, but had failed to do; he found with his foot a protrusion—the slightest, in the surface of the wall, and, pushing on that purchase, he leaped outward to the top of the ditch with his knee-, doubled up. He just caught the top of the ditch, and no more; indeed, for an instant it was touch-and-go whether he should topple backward. But at once he scrambled down into tne aitcn to aid his companion. Soon he perceived that to i'? d his oonipan l on. the poor ma.n was beyond mortal aid. What do you feel like, Jackson?" he asked. Oil, I feel I'm done for, my boy!" said Jack- son in a feeble voice. I'm dead from here," he add; d, putting his hand to his waist. I didn't take the jump proper! Oh, my poor Jane and the kiddie God knows I haven't been a bad fellow to them!" Of course you haven't," said Lefroy; "I'm sure of that. Tell me where they are, and I'll find them." Jackson told him where to find his family. Now," he said, you hook it, my sonny. Don't you s;op with me and get nabbed. You can do me no good, sonny-nobody can 1 I'm done for! It's Lights Out and Last Post for me! Didn't know I'd been in the army, did you? So long, sonny!" "I'm not going yet," said Lefroy. "Can't I do anything at all for you?" He looked around in helpless desperation. There was no house near, and, besides, it was early morning. "The only thing you could do for me," said Jackson, "would be to put a knife into me. Oh, my God!" A shrinking and a shuddering passed through his frame; and next instant his head leaned loosely back upon the supporting arm of Lefroy. Lefroy laid the inanimate form gently down, and gave him one lingering look of pity and woe. Poor—poor Jackson t He theught he heard footsteps at hand. He cou.d do Jackson no good by staying by his corp-e and being caught, so he made off swiftly aiong the boctom of the ditch. i Then Lefroy. for the first time in his life, experienced truly the sense of being an outIa w- and a hunted outlaw. He was free, but free only as a hare or fox is free with the hounds taking up it,s scent. Moreover, he had not an open course for so long as he wore a convict's dress he might be headed off at any moment by other than his regular pursuers. To run and run without heeding would, he was certain, result only in his capture. He turned sharply away from the prison boundary, and kirted a plantation to arrive at sume cottages he noted. He judged that only women, and perhaps children, would be at homo at that hour, while he hoped that it was still too early for children to be about; and he resolved to appeal to some women for help. Fortune favoured him. The backyards of the cottages abutted upon. the plantation; and, as he ap- proached unseen, a woman came into one of the yards to draw water. She was a buxom, pleasant- looking woman of middle age. He did not hesitate for a moment, but strode to the gate, lifted the latah, and walked in. At the sound the woman turned, and gazed at him in surprise; but w.thout fear. You see what I am," he said at once in a low voice. I have e-caped from the prison, because I have heard nothing for a long time of my wife. Help me to cover these clothes Ult with anything —an old coat or such-like." She looked at him calmly and searchingly. "God help you, man!" she said. "We're all poor creatures, but you don't kok bad! I'U see what I've got!" And she gently pushed him into her back kitchen. She returned with an old felt hat, an old light overcoat, and an old pair of baggy trousers. He put them on over his prison dress, and found them sufficient for the purpose. to I have nothing," said he, to give you in exchange but my thanks! But I give you many, many thanks! If you can aiso oblige me with a drink of water-" "To be sure! How silly of me!" said she. Tho milkman hasn't come yet, but the kettle's on the boil, and you can have a cup of tea. I a,way, make myself a cup first thing." She bustled about and made tea with great ex- pedit on. She brought him a large cupful, with a hunk of bread and a pieoe of cheese. I'd ask you to come in and sit down," said she but I expect you'd rather be faring on." "m never forget your kindness!—never!" said he. He drank the hot tea in haste, and put the pro- vender in his pocket. "Away with you!" said the woman, hurriedly. lIe: e' S my man!" It gave to Lefroy a special thrill of danger to note, with. a glance along the passage to the open front door, ti.at the man who was coining up the gartien path was in the uniform of a pr.,on warder! But that made appear all the greater the kindness of the woman who had befriended him. Ro, tha:ik:u*ly, he tramped away to London— and to Ju.ia. It took him nearly a fortnight to reach London but spite of constant fears, he did reach k without being hindered or questioned. That result was doubt.ess due very much to tne fact that he neither looked nor behaved like tho ordinary tramp. Ho avoided—although that was very d.fticuit—the company of tramps, and the resorts of tramps: both the lodging-houses and Le casual wards of towns. He kept to the open road s and the open air-walking at night and in the early morning, and lying hid during the day to sleep, and ail the time doing his utmost to keep his person clean and his clothes free from dir, and dusc. He earned a few pence by perform- ing odd i *,o bL'ko holding a horse at night, and so he acquired some things to replace the prison clotr.es which he gradually got rid of. He endurk-d great privation, for he would not beg; and so he arrived in London tanned with the sun and air, lean as a greyhound, and bristling with a thick black beard. He acquired a shilling by an act closely resoiiib.ing theft. A young lady running after a 'bus dropped some loose silver which she must have been carrying in her hand. It rolled this way and that, and the young lady abandoned her chase of the 'bus to collect, her money. One coin rolled close to Lefroy. He put his fool on it. The search for the errant coins was tedious, for it was growing dark. But at length it was over, and then Lefroy possessed himself of tho cin under his foot, with a sense of glee mingled with shame, and with the reflection that it must be vexy easy for those in need to become criminal. With a penny from his shilling he helped him- self to a ride towards Hammersmith. Arrived there, he spent another penny on a shave, in a humble barber's shop; for he was determined that if he should encounter Julia she should see him clean of face as she had ever known him, even though the sweeping away of his fortnight's beard should render him more easy to be rccognised by the police. He took advantage of his seat in the barber's chair to make inquiry concerning the friends to whom he had advised his wife to go. The reply of the barber did not help him much, and it did not tend to raise his spirits: the barber knew by report the family mentioned, but he believed— he was not sure—that they had loft the neigh- bourhood. From the barber's he walked directly to the house tLat had been the home of Julia's friends. He knocked and inquired for them. No people of that name live here," said the servant, with a suspicious glance at the shabbi- ness of her questioner. Is it long since they left, do you know?" asked Lefrcy. I don't know anything about them. But I know we've been here twelve months," was the answer. Twelve months! Then they must have been gone before he parted from J u.lia! When he had j been within a few days of London, and could calculate when he might ariyc, he had written to Julia., poste restante, Hammersmith, asking her to meet him at nine o'clock on a. certain evening on Hammersmith Bridge. The evening he had named would be the next. So, after making enquiries of a shopkeeper or two in tho neighbourhood—who agreed in saying that the people enquired after were gone from the neigh- bourhood, where, they could not tell-he pre- pared to pass as best he could tho twenty hours and more till his meeting with Julia should bo due. Despite muntlcss chari tie." and the innumer- able kindness of private persons, London is no place for the homeless, and least of all for the penniless; to both the penniless and the homeless the wilderness of Salisbury Plain present more hope of comfort than London. But Lefroy had already endured so much tha-t another day's endurance with the hope of seeing h:" Julia— Julia for whom heart and soul yearned moro than ever!—had no terrors for him. He wandered over Hammersmith Bridge, and made his way under a bush on Barnes Common. It was a ccoi night with a drizzling rain. He slept little, and in the morning he was chilly and feverish. He bought a twopenny loaf (because there was about three times as much in it as in a penny loaf), but he could only gnaw a scrap of its crust. What if he should fall ill-without seeing his Julia! The thought became a horror to him; for his recent illness in prison and the exhaustion he now experienced from a fortnig° ht's starvation brought its realisation very close. He resolved to walk off the incipient chill and fever. He set off through Kensington; he crossed Kensington Gardens to the north side of the Park, and then he continued along Oxford-street, drawn onward by he knew not what desire. He had first soon Julia in her father's shop in the neighbourhood of Regent-street; might she not have returned to the old haunts, if she had failed to find her Hammersmith friends? He went and looked at the old shop. It seemed ages since he had first known it; and yet it was little more than three years. The shop was now a hair- dresser's-with a German namo. Unutterably depressed, sad even to tears, he walked away. Fatigue and fever weighed upon him like lead. He came upon a church. The door was open, and there was neither verger nor pew-opener visible to ask questions or to obstruct an entrance. He entered. The church seemed quite empty. He walked slowly down the aisle. The silence and the soft light settled upon him like a benediction. He slipped into a pew, and completely overcome—he knew not, nor pau-ed to consider, why—he sank upon his knees, and was shaken utterly with sobs. He had been grievously tried-tried beyond the endurance of Nature, and he made his piteous appeal to Him whose presence was supposed to make the place sacred. "0 God 0 my God!" he moaned incoherently. "What have I done that all this should come upon me? I am alone, my God! Where—oh where is she—my own-my dear one 1 Wherev Where 1" But words ceased to come. He was battling ,vith a. deep sea of trouble, and he continued to kneel and sob like a weary child that has lost its mother. He almost passed into unconsciousness. He heard steps and voices as in a dream. He raised his head, and saw-as in a. dream-two men and two women, all in gala ^attire, stand before a white-robed clergyman. 1 that was the priest saying? In a clear voice he nad begun to read the marriage service. And who were the foolLh people wiio were thus tempting fortune and inviting disaster by marri,ge." He looked, and jealousy and blinding rage came upon him. The woman was Julia!—Julia Galotti-h s Julia, looking beautiful as ever, although somewhat pale. And the man—Lefroy had a remarkable memory for any face or form he had once seGn-thü man was, he believed, rho very man who had followed Juiia into the train that dreadful day of separation more than nine months ago He rose to his feet, a wild figure. I forbid ■ That was what he meant to say, but he never knew whether he uttered the word, A deadly sickness swept over him he fell with a thud out upon the pavement of the side aisle; and he knew no more. (To be continued.)

COOKERY FOR WORRIEDI HOUSEWIVES.…

- - ' - - - I CHESTER'S EVERYDAY…

ATHLETIC NEWS. I -**-

CRICKET PROSPECTS. I

Advertising

FIXTURES.-

-CHESTER -GOLF -CLUB.

- --AN APRIL OUTLOOK.

[No title]

! OUR FOOD SUPPLIES. I

[No title]