Anthony Lyveden Part 27

_Your affectionate uncle, JOHN FOREST._

The a.s.size Court was crowded. Even upon the Bench there was little room to spare; and when the High Sheriff disappeared to return a moment later with two ladies, the Judge's clerk eyed the new-comers with something of that impotent indignation with which a first-cla.s.s pa.s.senger regards the violation of his state by belated individuals whose possession of first-cla.s.s tickets is highly dubious.

The calendar contained no case of unusual interest, but the Red Judge comes to Brooch but three times a year, and the old market-town makes the most of its gaol deliveries.

At the moment of the ladies' entering, Mr. Albert Morgan was in charge of the jury, and the twelve gentlemen were in course of hearkening to evidence which suggested with painful clarity that the prisoner's sins of commission included that of felony. That Mr. Morgan had been caught red-handed had not prevented the rogue from pleading "Not guilty." He had stood in docks before now. Besides, enough money had been found to instruct a member of the Bar--if not a solicitor--to argue his impudent case....

"Anthony Lyveden," said counsel for the Crown.

"Anthony Lyveden!" cried the constable-usher.

"Anthony Lyveden!" bawled his colleague, opening the door of the Court.

Anthony, who was pacing the hall, came quickly. A moment later he had entered the box.

His footman's overcoat accentuated at once his height and his breeding.

It suited the figure admirably, but not the man. The handsome, clean-cut face, the excellence of his speech--above all, the personality of the witness--gave the lie to his garb. Moreover, he displayed a quiet dignity of manner which was as different from that of the most exquisite lackey as is sable from civet. From resting upon him the eyes of the Court began to stare...

Lest their owners be thought unmannerly, it is fair to record that the last witness, whilst swearing that he was a chauffeur, had resembled one of the landed gentry of the Edwardian Age, and that the last but one--to wit, the chauffeur's employer--had sworn that he was a retired grocer, and looked exactly like one.

Anthony took the oath and glanced about him.

From the dock Mr. Morgan was regarding him with a malevolent glare.

Farther back sat George Alison, upon his face an expression of profound resignation, which was plainly intended to indicate to his colleague the unpleasant nature of his late ordeal. And there, between the High Sheriff and Lady Touchstone, sat Miss Valerie French....

With narrowed eyes and a face impa.s.sive as a mask she met the footman's look. By her side her aunt was smiling recognition, but Anthony never saw that. Gazing upon the beauty of that face which he had once transfigured, he found it frozen. That proud red bow of a mouth, that had been his for the taking, might have been graven of precious stone.

Here was no vestige of Love. Tenderness was clean gone. Even as he looked, the blue eyes shifted casually to wander around the Court....

The cold wind of Indifference made Anthony's heart shiver within him.

Small wonder that he replied to counsel's questions mechanically, like a man in a dream.

He had, of course, known that he was out of favour.

One perfect Wednesday she had worshipped him to his face: upon the following Sabbath he had been turned away from her doors. For this mysterious fall from grace no reason had been vouchsafed. Moreover, so high was the favour, so eminent the grace, that Anthony had been desperately bruised. For a little he had been stunned. More than once, as he had walked dazedly home, he had tripped and stumbled. And, on reaching the house, he had done what he had never thought to do--surrept.i.tiously poured and swallowed a gla.s.s of his master's brandy. As the days marched by, he had in some sort recovered--slowly, if for no other reason because Grief should have air and not be clapped under hatches. And now--here was the lady, pointing in person the unpleasant truth that she had no further use for him....

Had they but told their love before his downfall, his course would have been simple. In that case, to ask an explanation of his dismissal would have been lawful enough. But things had not gone so far. It was while they were yet upon the threshold of harmony that the end had come. Of his honesty Anthony felt that he had no right to question her. The lady had not engaged herself: she was still free to do as she pleased. His cursed footmanhood was an additional embarra.s.sment. To speak vulgarly, it put the lid on. And now--why was she here?

Thus throughout his examination-in-chief the imps of Recollection and Speculation spun and whirled in his brain-pan.

Why on earth was she there?

It is doubtful whether Miss French herself could have answered that question.

You will please believe, gentlemen, that her heart had brought her. It is the plain truth. Though Anthony did not know it, he had taken her faith in his hands and torn it across and across. For all that, she loved him still. She had a strange, pathetic longing to see him once more, and the case of "The King against Morgan" had offered her the chance. She had heard of the matter, and knew he must come to court to give his evidence. In such a place she would be able to study him undisturbed, and, most important of all, any speech between them would be safely impossible. A note to the High Sheriff had arranged her admission.... Incidentally, a burst tire on the way from Bell Hammer had almost spoiled everything. As we have seen, however, the ladies were just in time....

"Yes," purred counsel for the Crown. "And then?"

"Then the prisoner gave a cry and rushed into the drawing-room."

"What did you do?"

"I followed him and seized him. When a.s.sistance arrived, he was secured, and in the morning he was handed over to the police."

With a nod, counsel resumed his seat.

Mr. Morgan's representative got upon his feet with a truculent air. As he did so, somebody touched him upon the shoulder, and he turned to see his client leaning out of the dock. With an apologetic smirk at his lordship, the lawyer left his seat....

"What is it? What is it?" he whispered testily.

Mr. Morgan breathed into his ear.

"This is the swine," he said evilly. "Put it acrost 'im. Arsk 'im----"

"You shut yer face," said his adviser. "An' don' try an' teach me my job, or I'll 'ave you in the box."

Before this threat Mr. Morgan subsided, muttering.

Impatiently counsel for the defence returned to his place. Once there, he adjusted his gown, consulted a blank sheet of paper with some acerbity, and then addressed himself to the witness.

"Why did you leave your last place?"

Anthony hesitated. Then--

"I was unable to get on with one member of the household," he said.

"Were you dismissed?"

"I was."

"Why?"

"As the result of a difference I had."

"Come, come, sir. That's no answer."

"The son of the house insulted me, and I knocked him down."

Such a sensational reply fairly took the wind out of counsel's sails.

Amid a stifled murmur of excitement he strove to collect himself.

"You--er--a.s.saulted him?"

"I did."

"Rather hasty, aren't you?"