IN SUSPENSE.
It was Saturday. A week had passed since Rupert's arrest, since he had
left the little rooms at Westminster and been driven to the police
court. It all seemed to him like a vivid dream, in which he played a
passive but unwilling part.
He had seen no one but the prison chaplain since that dreadful day at
the Westminster Police Court. The long wait in a bare cell, the sudden
hurrying through dark passages, the Court, with the hum of conversation
suddenly stifled--and then he found himself standing in the dock and
felt rather than saw that every eye was fixed on him.
He had pleaded "Not guilty," in a voice he scarcely recognised as his
own. Shame covered him as with a cold mist. He was committed for
trial, but bail was offered him, two sureties of L500 each. He had
shaken his head as he gulped down the lump in his throat that prevented
him speaking. Who would stand bail for him?
He began to realise that he had not a friend; many acquaintances--many
pals, yes--but not one friend!
A tear dropped on the open book on his knees--"Barnaby Rudge"--that the
chaplain had brought him. He had just finished chapter sixty-two, and
the tale of Rudge's prison had strangely softened his troubles. But the
uppermost thought in his mind was the woman he loved!
Ruby! Again he felt that icy grip at his heart. How often had he
reasoned it all out and fought against the suspicion that at last had
become a certainty.
Why had she not been to see him? Why had she sent no word, not even a
message?
What a coward he had been. The pistol that he held to his own breast
had really been pointed at her heart. She had committed this great
crime to save him from a greater.
A crime of murder, for in taking his own life did he not end hers, too?
And now it was up to him to play the man and pay the price of his own
sins. He began to pace the narrow cell.
The key turned in the lock, the cell door opened, and a warder curtly
ordered Rupert to follow him. A second warder walked behind, and, after
descending a flight of stairs, he stopped before a door which he opened
and motioned Rupert to enter, and at once closed the door from outside.
Rupert found himself in a small, bare room, in the centre of which a
table covered with a green, ink-stained cloth and half a dozen wooden
chairs were the only furniture. Seated at the table was an elderly man
with a closely-trimmed beard, while, standing with his back to the
fireplace, was a younger man, whose clean-shaven face and clear-cut
features at once arrested Rupert's attention. The man at the table rose
and bowed.
"Mr. Dale, I believe! This is Mr. Marshall, who has undertaken your
defence. Please be seated!"
Rupert obeyed automatically. He was too surprised to speak, and the
man, obviously a lawyer, continued:
"I must explain to you that I represent Messrs. Redway, Wales & Redway,
Sir Richard Crichton's solicitors, who have been instructed by him to
arrange for your defence. Mr. Marshall has kindly accepted the brief
and will defend you. Now, Mr. Dale, I want you to tell us all you know
about this unfortunate occurrence. You must understand that whatever
you tell us will be treated as strictly confidential, and it is
absolutely necessary that you are perfectly frank with us. Mr. Marshall
will tell you that to conceal anything from us will greatly prejudice
your case--in fact, it might ruin your defence."
Mr. Marshall murmured "Quite so! quite so!" and began to examine the
toes of his boots.
"I have nothing to conceal," said Rupert. "I intend to plead guilty; I
have no desire to be defended--I am quite prepared to pay the penalty of
my folly."
Mr. Marshall coughed.
"That's frank; that's very frank," Mr. Redway exclaimed. "But, my dear
young sir, you must allow us to judge the way you should plead. Now, I
have here a statement of the case as far as we've been able to obtain it
from the proceedings in the police court, and the statements made by the
witnesses for the prosecution. What we now require are the exact
circumstances under which you--er--altered the amount on the cheque and
exactly how you proceeded to cash it. Will you kindly tell us in the
first place what caused you to be in want of this large sum?"
"I was in debt. I had been betting, and living beyond my means."
"Just so," said Mr. Redway; "and so you altered the cheque under the
pressure of debt--to avoid ruin, in fact?"
Rupert nodded.
"Will you kindly tell us to whom you gave the cheque in the first
instance with a view of getting it cashed?"
"What's the use of all this? I have admitted the crime, and I do not
wish to make any further statement." Rupert spoke with sudden
irritation.
"Now, look here, Mr. Dale--Excuse me, Mr. Redway!" Mr. Marshall
interrupted--"I have done an unusual thing in coming here to-day, and I
have done it entirely in your interests, to enable me to get a personal
insight into this case, which possibly I could not get from my brief
alone. The least you can do in return is to answer the questions asked
you, and give us as much information as you are able. You must
understand that unless I am fully acquainted with the details of your
actions in this matter, it will be impossible for me to meet and reply
to the evidence which the prosecution will bring against you."
Rupert bit his lip, and, after a few moments' silence, he looked
straight into the barrister's eyes: "I am extremely sorry to put
difficulties in your way, and I fully appreciate Sir Reginald's kindness
in arranging for my defence. Believe me, I am very grateful to him and
to you both; but there are circumstances which render it impossible for
me to give you any information regarding the cheque or its subsequent
disposal. I hope you will not press me further in the matter."
Redway, who was fidgeting with the papers, looked at Mr. Marshall with
raised eyebrows, and the barrister nodded to him as though he
understood.
Redway cleared his throat: "We quite understand, Mr. Dale, and your
scruples do you honour; but you must remember that in trying to shield
your accomplice by refusing to confide in us, you are not only spoiling
your own case, but very possibly endangering your friend. Come, now, be
reasonable. We must know who gave the cheque, or rather the note
containing the cheque, to the messenger-boy."
Rupert looked up, and the surprise he felt must have been clearly
reflected on his face, for Mr. Redway exclaimed: "You don't mean to say
that it was you who gave the note to the messenger?"
There was a long silence before the lawyer spoke again. "Will you,
then, give us Miss Strode's present address? This is really most
important, as she has completely disappeared and left no trace, although
the police have been searching for her for the past week."
Rupert's heart gave a great bound. Then she was still safe! "I can
answer that question, at least. I don't know where she is, and have
heard nothing of her since I was arrested." Then, after a moment's
hesitation: "I suppose she is utterly disgusted with my crime, and
wishes to avoid having her name in any way connected with mine!"
Redway rose and touched the bell on the table. "I am sorry you can give
us so little help. I shall see you again before the trial, when I hope
you will see your way to place a little more confidence in us, otherwise
I fear your defence will suffer gravely."
The door opened, and the warder escorted Rupert back to his cell. As he
reached it, he handed him a letter.
The door slammed, and the retreating steps of the warder echoed down the
stone-flagged passage.
Rupert glanced at the envelope in his hand, and started as he recognised
his father's writing. He sat on the wooden bunk and slowly opened it.
The envelope fell to the floor and lay there. He noticed that the
post-mark was London, not Princetown.
For a moment Dartmoor and the great convict prisons rose before his
eyes, and he shuddered at the bare possibility of his being sent there.
He began to read the letter:
"MY DEAR BOY,--I hardly know how to write these few lines. I have had a
great struggle, and from my heart tried to believe you innocent--for how
could my son commit this horrible crime? Sir Reginald has been more
than kind. He asked me plainly if I believed you did this thing, and I
looked him in the face and said '_No_! It is impossible! He is a true
gentleman!' He shook my hand and said: 'Neither do I; and what's more,
I'll see he has a fair trial.' He has written to his lawyers and they
are to help you, and he has brought me up to London, and I hope to see
you to-morrow. For God's sake, my dear boy, clear yourself and our good
name! For my sake, and your sister's, help the lawyers to find the man
who has put this awful burden upon us. Find him, Rupert, and hunt him
down, for unless you do my heart is broken, and I fear ruin faces
us--all three. God help you clear our name.
"Your affectionate father,
"JOHN DALE."
The letter fluttered to the floor beside the envelope and Rupert threw
himself on the hard bunk and sobbed aloud. Try as he would, great sobs
shook his frame. All his resolutions were shattered by this appeal.
How could he destroy his father, ruin his sister, and bring desolation
and unending shame to his home?
What was he to do? A word to Mr. Redway, and his innocence would be
quickly proved. Nay, he need only give a hint, and the lawyers would do
the rest. He need not mention Ruby's name.
Blood was thicker than water, after all; if it had only been himself to
sacrifice he would have been too ready to do so for Ruby's sake; but had
he any right to sacrifice his father and sister as well? The more he
thought of it the more convinced he became that he must save them at all
costs.
His eye fell upon the ink-pot on the wooden shelf. As a prisoner
awaiting trial he was allowed to send and receive letters.
He found a sheet of paper and wrote to the lawyer.