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THE HÓVARING DAILY PRESS, SATURDAY, JULY 6r 1912.
THE PATH OF A HUNDRED . his youth, his throat seemed as if it wore
DEATHS,
BY
GUY THORNE (Author of "When It Was Dark."
Lost Cause," etc.)..
CHAPTER 1.
ARTHUR HUGILERS,
It was nine o'clock. The night was very hot, though it was the first week in September. There had indeed, over the whole south and west of England, been an unprecedented wave of heat.
Far away in remote Cornwall, where; England stretches out her granite foot to spurn the Atlantic, the high and lonely moors had been sweltering for days Despite its surrounding of sex, the Peninsular of Saints knew no breath of wind, and the nights were even hotter than the days.
On this particular night there was no moon, though a few stars shone faintly! through the blackness and the hout which lay, like a pall, over the prison,
Happy mon, who live in freedom, think; of Marshunoor as a bleak, desolate and forbidding place. The greatest convict prison in England is not associated in the ordinary mind with warmth and stiffing heat.
The huge walls surrounding the many cres of buildings jabbing up into the dark seemed just a little more sable than the back-ground of sky into which they Cappeared inlaid like ebony in jade.
The Governor was souted in his com fortable dining-room, smoking an after dinner cigar, and sipping feed seltzer wator--it was too hot even for coffee,
The married warders off daty had not energy to go down into the village, two miles away, but they sat in their common room, with uniforma unbuttoned, listlessly reading the newspapers of the day before.
The married warders, in their houses outside the prison walls, were found by their wives to be surly and ill-tempered after their long, hard day; while the warders on duty in the prison halls, passed noiselessly up and down outside the coll doors, with the perepiration shin- ing in beads upon their faces..
Hall E was lit by a gas corona, hang ing from the lefty glass roof. A cload of moths were flitting round the light The iron galleries, which ran round the great space in tiers, connected by stair ways of open iron work, were hot to the touch.
packed with warm sand, the palma of his. clenched hande dripped with sweat.
He lay perfectly still, and in the agony of his mind his physical discomfort was forgotton.
Although sleep was impossible, and his bones ached with the long day's work in the quarry under a broiling suh, although the blackness around seemed a heavy tangible thing, that lay upon him, and enclosed him like a fly in amber, he enduring a million times more than his heeded nothing of it, for his mind was unhappy body. He had lain in durance now for a whole year, and had almost lost count of time, he had become a dull obedience to harsh shouted orders, or the Iroaching that moved this way and that in
clanging of an iron bell,
|
the perpetual twilight of the soul: ..
For a whole year ho had moved thus in
Now and again there were terrible moments, hours of agony, such as he had not believed men could endure, and re- tain their reason.
One of these hours was upon him now. The eyes of his mind, the effort of his thought, beat against bars and iron walls more dreadful, more horrible, than the material locks and bars which buld his body fast.
.
talking quietly to himself, his hot, crack- Although he did not know it, he was
bling commentary to his thoughts... ed lips missing and whispering a stum-
"Only a year ago, a little more than a year ago, i was Arthur Hughes, "and free he spoke of himself with wonder, as though he were telling a story, a dreadful, inexplicable story, of someone else.
"I was. Artbur Hughes, & barrister of the Inner Temple, an Eton hoy, an Oxford man. I was popular, my father was a rich solicitor. No one had a word to say against me, I was beginning to succeed at the bar, my name was get- ing known, I had plenty of money, troops of friends, and I was tngaged to Muriel Tracey. There was not a cloud in the sky. I was healthy, happy, for
Now tunate-envied by everyon there is no more
Hughes, there never will be an Arthur Haghes again. For five years B50 will lie in the tomb, will then, perhaps, some broken thing disgraced, for ever, to hide itself from creep out into the world, dishonoured. the eyes of men, dishonoured and dis- graced! And yet, God knows he is as innocent as any honourable man who walks the world in the full light of day.
"I can hear old Warrington's voice now used to plead before him on circuit, and always found him a just and upright judge-I can hear his voice now, and see his face as he looked at me, and done, and yet I could say nothing. Some sentenced me for that which I had not times, I almost think I must have done
One warder, in shoes of felt, paced noiselessly and wearily round the top most gallery another, two galleries below, kept the same coaseless vigil, Every now and again one of the men would stop at a cell door, and push aside the covering of the spyhole, and, taking his bull's eye lantern, from his belt, flash it in a moment of madness, the proof was
it through the glass, and survey the inkton. I should have summed up
his resume
interior.
The spyhole dropped again, and the warder would
stealthy promenade.
At half-past aine the warder on the top gallery was relieved by another, and before going to his supper, the two men stood a moment in quiet talk.
"I shall be glad to get my tanie off said the man who was hoing relieved, it is hotter up in this top gallery than I have ever known it before, and this is my fifth year in the prison service.'
The other warder drow his haudker chief from his 'aleove, and mopped his face.
clear and strong, not only of my hav done it, hut of premeditation, and it out. Had I been Mr. Justice against Arthur Hughes. Had I been a nicmber of the jury, I should have un- hesitatingly pronounced him guilty upon the evidence, and yet, God knows, as I know in my heart, I was absolutely, utterly innocent. My arrest, my convic tion, the evidence, came to me as a total surprise. God! if there is a God, shew light in this darkness! Give my recling brain some elue as to what it all menos. I had not an enemy in the world that I knew of-and-now-
The hissing, whispering voice ceased, and a deep low sob zehout out into the It is," he said, "and the papers say narrow cell, and seemed to beat in vain this heat wave is going to continue, but against the iron walls.
I have justRained absolutely, utterly, finally it is just as hot outside. come up from the village, and there israined and done, I was due to receive not a breath of air anywhere,"
Well, for my part, I wish I had got any job but this," the first warder answered.
The other shrugged his shoulders.
a letter three months ago, Muriel was to write to me. She promised that she would write in the letter three months before that-the one ray of hope in this nethermost hell. She told me in her first It might be worse," he said. "I've letter that despite everything she would known worse times when I was in the never believe in my guilt, and now she service. You've never been an army has not written, there has been no letter, man, Williams, so you don't know what the dreadful damning logic of fact, or real graft is, yet there is chaps out on what seems like fact, has crushed her alac the moor to-night us is undergoing a lot She, too, has deserted me. My brain is nore discomfort than you and I. I had going. I know it, I feel it. It is dis- a talk with some of the men this after-solving gradually, There will never be noon, and they are being worked to death Arthur Hughes again, This morning, while I polished my tin pan, T saw the Yes, the other answered, "I sup-reflection of my face. It was not the pose there's a power of soldiers on the face of Arthur Huges-it was the face moor to-night."!"
of a dead creature, a corpse from which
on these manœuvres.
"I believe so, there's artillery, there's all hope has fled. To-day, as they march sappers, there's two regiments of theed me out to the quarries, I saw a squad fine, and a flying squadron, and the day ron of soldiers in khaki march briskly after to-morrow there will be more still, along, not a hundred yards away from
alive;
their faces when the big manoeuvres commence; they our gang. They were
Once, I also are only playing about now. There's any were the faces of men. amount of chaps coming down from marched to the tune of the fife, and the Plymouth the day after to-morrow. We throbbing of the drum. Was it really 1 shall see a bit of life on the moor for
who had a commission in the Cadet Corps at Eton, and was a sergeant in the Inus of Court Volunteers 7~~~
the next few days. Everything all
Borene ?"
and then, a little louder, the voice in th
There was silence in the cell for a time, darkness praved."
God! if
would report him next time. Send some tere is a Gol, send light.
Swiftly, upon the instant of the voice dying away, the cell suddenly became full of brilliant light.
Yes," said the younger man, turning to descend the stairway.B66 gave me a bit of his lip just now, and I warned him that Badly behaved prisoner that, surly can- tankerous devil! He's in my quay gang, and I keep a sharp lookout on him, I can tell you. There is trouble brew- B50 sat up in his bed, jerked up, like ing in his feet, but still, be in a big fleshy man, and I suppose ho.feels the heat like an automatum apon a spring. He saw everything quite distinctly, the shelf, with I everyone else, so try to make it as easy his Bible and Prayer Book, the tin cans, for him as I can. So long!"
The now warder began his sullen march from which he ate his food, the tin jug
hemmed up and down the steel corridor. Every of water, the white-washed walls which
bim in. now and again as the humour took him, For the moment it seemed to his wander. he opened the spy hold in some door, and ing brain as if his prayer had been flashed his lantern through it.
answered by sume supernatural means, and then, as the light suddenly flashed away, and left the cell once more in pitchy darkness, he fell back with groan realising what it was. He knew.
In cell No. 50, on the door of which was a placard stating the offelal number of the convict within, the length of his sentence, and the nature of his offence, a man was lying wide awake.
He was known as B56 Once upon a time his name in the world of living men had been Hughes....
great artillery maneuvres were in progress upon the vast moors beyond the prison walls. The engineere were signal- wandering, ling by searchlight, and He lay upon his back on the hard powerful ray bad fallen upon the out mattress, the course blanket pushed away side wall, momentarily illuminating his from him, his eyes wide open, staring cell,
The event stirred him somewhat, and into the darkness of the box-like space in which he was kept. It was like an brought his mind into focus with his sur- oven in there. The walls of corrugated roundings; while, for some reason which iron radiated heat. No breath of air he could not understand, he felt a curious came through the ventilator, and it was tingling in his blood, a vague sense of as still as death. The man's body was expectation for which he was unable to damp, his tongue cleaved to the roof of account.
(Conthsued on Page 6.)
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