Our Serial Story. “The Jew’s House,”

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2646, 30 October 1909, Page 1 (Supplement)

Our Serial Story. “The Jew’s House,”

j f By Fergus Hume. |

Author' of the “ Mystery of a Hansom Cab, ” “ The Yellow Holly, ” “ The Mandarin’s Fan, ” “ The Sealed Message, ” etc., etc.,-etc. (All Rights Reserved)

CHAPTER IX. The room was small and sparsely furnished, since the poverty of its owner limited her to mere necessities. Ashton was thus enabled to walk to and fro, and did so, striving to fight down the anger which Wain’s remark had raised in his breast. The reporter, diplomatically, said nothing, as he had shot his arrow, and -waited to see -its effect. While doing so he looked round the tiny apartment. It was very plain and very poor, but one or two family portraits on the walls showed that those who dwelt in the house were of. gentle birth. Also there were some ornaments of expensive china and a silver salver on the sidfieoard, engraved with a crest. Miss Merton had striven to make the place as homelike as possible, and there were flowers to be seen, likewise a canary and a comfortable cat, who sat with folded paws dozing before the fire, although Ashton’s hasty rising had somewhat disturbed, it. Tlie worn was very clean, but poverty revealed itself aggressively in the threadbare carpet and in the cheap curtains. The young barrister saw his visitor’s eyes travel round the room, and he commented sarcastically thereon. “You are spying out the poverty of the land,” he said with vehemence;' “yes, you may well do so. And my cousin, Miss Merton, was used to luxury for the greater part of her life. For 15 years she lias lived, she and I, a hand-to-mouth existence, depending on her hundred a year and on the lew. shillings earned by my pen. And to whom are we both indebted for this '“penurious existence? To the very man you ask, me to defend!” “I know that,” replied Wain composedly. “I have heard the story. Benlent money to your grandfather, who mortgaged the .Hall, and then—” “Then Ben-Ezra foreclosed,” said Ashton, bitterly, returning to* throw himself into, the well-worn .armchair from which he had risen. “Oh, it was all in the way of business,, no doubt. That Jew is too. clever to get on the wrong side of the.law.. Bat I tell you, Wain, that.. in some" underhand , way Ben-Ezra cheated and swindled my grandfather. The General was rich, and even though he gambled and kept racehorses and lived lavishly, he could not have spent all his money. BenEzra got complete control of the old man before he died, and managed to claw everything into his pocket.... I was the heir to the Ashton’s estates. I was brought up to the age of ten in luxury, with never a care land never a sorrow. Miss Merton also had a placid existence 100-king after the Hall, since my parents were dead and "my grandfather was a widower. But when General Ashton died the crash came. I was ten years of v age, then, but child as I was. J refused the assistance : which Ben-Ezra offered me. My cousin and I came to this poor little house, and lived on her hundred a year.” “What did Ben-Ezra offer to do?” asked Wain, when he could stem the torrent c£ words. / “Curse him, he offered to pay for-my education. As if I would have taker, a favor at his hands.” “How, then, did you obtain your education ?—-for I remember you told me that you had been both at Eton and Oxford.” 0 “A distant cousin, of whom I had scarcely heard, wrote and offered to help me when came. Randall ' was his.name —-a-bousin on'my mother s, side, although Miss Merton said that she never - heard- mention of' him. He lived in Devonshire, and I never saw him.” / 1 “But some day—” “He is dead now,” interrupted Lancelot, imperiously. “Did he. leave you any money?” “Not a-stiver. Why should he? As it was he kindly burdened himself with my education. He paid my fees at Eton and Brasenose College, and supplied my legal fees. Just when I became a barrister, a year or so ago, and intended to go down and thank him, he died, leaving all his money—as I was informed—to some orphanage. Well, ■ he had a right to do what he liked with his own; and I thank him,” cried the young man, looking up. “I thank him, for having -given me a chance of acquiring knowledge. It puts me more on a level with that Hebrew creature, who ruined my family.” '“-I \7riought,” said Wain, evading the main issue, and speaking to gain time, that Ashton’s rage should cool, “that' -when you mentioned who had paid your legal fees, you meant Miss Merton as the cousin.” a, “No; I mentioned that it was a couV s i n in Devonshire who helped me. Miss Merton is my cousin on my father’s side, as Randall was on my mother’s. Poor Susan,” sighed the young man sadly, “she has done quite enough in keeping the roof over my head and in -giving me food. But, now lam a barrister,” he -started enthusiastically to his feet, “I shall repay her every cent. .She ‘shall walk in silk attire, and siller ha’e to spare.’ I am sure she deserves it, Wain.” , ■ . “I quite agree with you,” said the -'I" ' reporter, gravely: “Miss Merton is a ' good woman all round.” •

i “So she is; so she is. Why, everyone in Bruntlea knows of her charity and kindness. She can give little money, but she nurses people, and teaches children, and gives the broken-hearted the sympathy and comfort they need. She will go to heaven when she dies, as surely as Ben-Ezra will drop to the nethermost pit. When I think of the people lie has ruined, and how lie possesses the family seat which should belong to me—the Jew’s (House, it is called now, curse it—l can scarcely prevent myself from rushing to the man’s office and strangling him.” “You would not find him. in his. office now,” Wain, reminded him, seriously. “No,; thank Heaven!” flashed out Ashton, triumphantly, “the beast has had a long spell of good luck, but lie is caught at last.” • “You think that he is -guilty?” Lancelot halted' in his. stride and stared at the reporter, greatly surprised. “Think lie is guilty?” lie repeated; “of course I do; of course everyone does. Read the evidence, and—” “I have read the evidence, and I think he is innocent.” “Upon what grounds ” “I believe that he spoke truly when he said that he was in the study at the back of the house, and was recalled to the drawing room by the sound of the shots.” “That’s his story. No one saw him, since Mrs Jorvin and the parlor-maid went to the housekeeper’s bedroom after hearing the crash of glass.” “Quite so, and when the glass was smashed —since the two women were oir the landing—Ben-Ezra had.'.not returned from the study to the drawing-room. He could not have smashed the window ; it was broken from the outside, as Dawkins, the constable, deposed, because the glass lay on the -carpet and had not fallen on the terrace without.” “Well! well 1 . well!” said the barrister, impatiently, “’what dees all this mean but that Ben-Ezra returned when he heard . the smash of the glass, and the women fled to see Sir Giles trying to enter. He then snatched up the revolver, which he admits was oil the side table., and killed the man.” , “Pardon me, sir, if Sir Giles had been trying -to enter like a burglar, BenEzra might have sworn that ho .shot him before he recognised him,, .as he always expected burglars to enter.” “Such a story would not. have saved him, Wain.” “It might have saved his life, as the charge might have been reduced, to one of manslaughter. But Ben-Ezra did not take the chance of escape which thus presented itself. Tie preferred to tell the truth.” “The truth!’’ muttered Lancelot, derisively, “and from a. Jew!” “I never knew that Christians had the monopoly of truth-telling,” said Wain, drily; “they certainly- don’t exercise it if 1 they have. But I would point out that, •.missing the burglar excuse., or rather not.choosing to make such an excuse, Ben-Ezra stated that he only returned to the drawing-room when lie heard.the shots fired.” ... ; “On the face of it, seeing Sir Giles and Ben-Ezra were at enmity, it would appear so. But if a lie, it is not a very good lie with which to make a defence. The excuse of the burglar would have been better, ’yet the Jew did not take it. Also, he made his case worse by stating- that lie alone had the key of the gates; confessed .also that a revolver, loaded in all six chambers,.lay on a side table in the; "■'drawing-room. Finally; when he-could have got rid of the- revolver before I came up with-Dawkius—-as,-he I, heard, outvoices "in the fog—he' deliberately Awaits with the incriminating weapon in his hand, lvhile standing over the body of the mail h* is supposed hastily to have killed. In fact, Ashton,” ended Wain, clinching his argu-, ment, “Ben-Ezra all through has done his best to close up all avenues of escape.” “He was known to be at enmity with Sir Giles,” said Ashton, sullenly. “Mrs Jorvin declared that she heard ,them quarrelling.” ; “All the more reason that Ben-Ezra should seek to find excuses for the shooting, instead of making his own case . worse. Ben-Ezra, whatever may be his character, is clever.” “Yes, confound him; I grant that.” “Then do you think a clever man would give himself away as he has done, if guilty ?” . ' “No,” said Ashton, slowly, “I suppose not. He certainly had every excuse, since Sir Giles smashed the glass, to feign to take'him for a burglar and fire in a hurry—the first shot, that is. The second and third shots were fired with more deliberation. You said yourself that it was a few seconds later thatthe other shots were fired.” “I admit it,” said Wain, recalling the circumstances; “what do you take that to mean?” “That Ben-Ezra fired in a hurry to start with, and afterwards finding the man who had entered to be Sir Giles, shot him twice again to make sure.” “You make the. • Jew out to be a fool,” said the reporter scornfully; “he could have ascertained that his foe was dead by feeling the heart. Why should he have wasted two shots on a corpse—• since, according to you, jjhc had a second or so to examine the fallen man?”

“But not to feel his heart and learn if he was dead,” said Ashton quickly. “Perhaps not, hut he could have seen from the face and the wound in the temple that Sir Giles had been killed by the first shot. HpwevGr/. the fact remains that Ben-Ezra did not seek to escape by telling of mistaking his enemy for a burglar, and so has made his case worse. I tell you, Ashton, that I believe the man to bo innocent.” “Even if I knew that to be true,” said the young barrister, with great vehemence, “I would not raise a finger to save him.”. “I don’t want you to raise your finger,” said Wain, quietly, “but your voice, my friend. After all, Ben-Ezra is paying you a compliment.” Ashton gasped. “A compliment?” “Yes. He is in a dangerous position, - and has money enough to engage the first counsel of the day. Instead of that, he proposes to engage -you, who are an untried man. With the best case in the world—which I admit in this instance you have not got —you might lose it. Ben-Ezra is placing his life in your hands. The Jew cannot be entirely bad since he does that.” Ashton sat up straightly. “That’s what perplexes me,” he said, graspinghis smooth hair. “Ben-Ezra knows that I hate him; that I haven’t yet won my spurs in the Law Courts, a ml'that, putting aside inexperience, sheer, funk might stop the • flow of my. eloquence. Yet lie asks me, when he stands in danger of his life, with scarcely any defence. I can’t understand it; I can’t, I can’t!” “Ben-Ezra puzzles me also,” said Wain, gravely, “and I don’t pretend to understand the workings of his mind. Perhaps as he has injured your grandfather, and ruined you, lie wishes to give you a chance of revenge.” “That is sheer rubbish,” said Ashton, flushing. “Ben-Ezra knows well enough that if I accepted a brief to defend him I would do my level best in every way, both for my own sake,: and a Iso because I would feel justified in using all my brains to save an enemy who has placed himself in my power.’ “Quite so. Ben-Ezra knows that you are an honorable man. Perhaps he also thinks you are a clever one. Have- you never pleaded in Court?” “I have been junior counsel in one or two small cases, and once I got a little chance to show off.” “Well?” “Well,” echoed the young man, testily, “I got my prisoner off.” . ' “In that case, Ben-Ezra may judge you to be a genius.” “He judges wrongly, then. I am not a genius; he has lmard. me speak.” “When? Where?” “In Court. He was present during the trial of the man I got off. It was a case of theft, and attracted very-lit-tle attention. But this business of BenEzra’s will be talked about from one end of . the kingdom to. the other, and T am not the man to handle so big a matter. Why doesn’t he engage some great man? His purse is long enough.” “I told ybu before that I can’t undertake to explain the workings of BenEzra’s mind. But he wants you to defend him, and-you will lie offered the brief. Think what it means to J you, Ashton. If you succeed iv. saving him in the face of the strong evidence against him, it will make: your name.” - “Oh, stuff and nonsense? It’s like asking a super to play Hamlet. 1 am not sq.eonceited as to undertake a thing I know in niy own heart I can' * carry through. Wicked as the old devil is; I don’t want his blood on iny soul.” “Yet you believe him to be guilty.” “I did, but now you have put doubts into my mind.- And yet I want to believe him guilty. He’s a beast; be ought to be shot or hanged!” “Which lie probably will bo unless he can produce better evidence.” “What do you know about the evidence?” asked Ashton, suddenly; “why do you take such an interest in this villain?” - “I have seen him in . prison, and I don’t believe 'that . he is- such ; a villain as you think',” said Wain, slowly. “He was-kind to my mother,” and the reporter narrated the acquaintance of the Jew with the old lady, who was dead. “Aild ' Ben-Ezra has done other kind acts, as Verily will tell'you,” ended Wain. Ashton rose to again pace the room, restlessly. “I know Verily will not hear, a word, against him, , neither will his wife, or Judith.” “Why, I thought Miss Verily hated him.” “Because I have infected her with my hatred. But. Ben-Ezra lias been frequently at the farm, and has been kind to Judith. Certainly Tie saved Verily from ruin. I can’t understand,” cried Ashton, wonderingly, “why Ben-Ezra should save Verily, and ruin my grandfather. The General was at leagt as kind as the farmer, when Ben-Ezra was being hounded out of Bruntlea village.” “Well,” said Wain, reflectively, “sooner or later we shall know why tho Jew acts so oddly. He is sane enough, and there must be a reason for his behavior iii every case.” “There, can be no reason for his having ruined my grandfather, to whom lie owed so much,” retorted Ashton, and wdked to the window. “I daresay if you put the question to Ben-Ezra he could supply you with a reason,” snapped-out Wain, for the argument’ was beginning to toll on his nerves. “But the question is whether you will take this brief.” “No,”. ..said Lancelot, in a muffled voice. “I certainly shall not.” Wain rose and.went over to the window to place his hand .on the young man’s shoulder. “Think of the chance,” he said, persuasively. “If you get the man off it will make your name. And also, you will be heaping coals of fire on your enemy.” “It seems to me that my enemy has heaped them on me by offeiing this big

chance to a poor devil who has no friend,” said Ashton, bitterly. “Then take it,” advised Wain. The young barrister suddenly left the window and threw himself into the armchair. “If I did so,- and lost the case,” lie said wretchedly, “people would say that I did so purposely so as to avenge myself on the Jew.” “Humph!” muttered Wain, biting his fingers, “they certainly might, and they certainly would, if I know anything of human nature. But —here comes the point Ashton. I believe Ben-Ezra has something up his sleeve.” “In the .way of evidence?” “Exactly. Why he should want you, who hate him, to take his defence, 1 cannot say. But he certainly knows that what evidence is to hand now will not save him, if he had fifty of the best counsel. It might be that, blowing lie is a doomed man, lie wishes to give you the chance of making a hit, for whether yon win or lose the case, you can make a fight for it and so display your talents. Or—and this is more likely, seeing what a subtle devil the Jew is— Ben-Ezra intends to bring forward evidence which will clear him entirely, so that tlie case against him will only be a kind of Aldershot review. In plain words, he can clear himself of the crime, “and wants you to get the honor and: glory of saving him.” ' \“But vyhat evidence?” began Ashton, who was wavering, in spite of the fierce, opposition he had offered earlier... “I can’t say,” interrupted Wain, impatiently,. “and I may be quite wrong in my idea of fresh evidence being obtainable., But listen,”—lie detailed the task he had been set to execute by the Jew as to a probable sale of Tanbuck Hall, and the message delivered by Verily. “It would seem that in some way, Ashton, the Jew had scored. I can’t say how, and I don’t profess to understand anything. All I know is that Ben-Ezra has give you a chance of making a name.” . Ashton pondered thoughtfully, and stared into the fire. “It is all very mysterious,” he said, doubtfully, “and it may be a trap.” . • Wain smiled grimly. “People like Ben-Ezra don’t lay traps baited with the sacrifice'of their own lives.” “What would you do?” asked Ashton, after a longer pause. “Accept, and mount on the shoulders of the man who ruined your family to fame and fortune.” The barrister’s face lighted up. “It would be a glorious revenge,” he murmured, “and yet I don’t like being indebted to the swine. Judith—” Hardly had he mentioned the name, when Wain turned sharply from the window out of which he had been staring. “The long arm of coincidence is stretching out,” said he,. quickly ; “here comes Miss Verily.” “Coincidence be hanged,” said Ashton, getting on his long legs; “I expected her to tea. My cousin asked lifer. Confound it, I wish Susan was here.” • “Oh,” said Wain, with a twinkle in his eyes, “F daresay Miss Verily, will willingly put up with your company. Shall I retire?” ’ “No,” said the young man, going to the door. “I want you to hear the judgment. ”1 shall put the case to -Ju-* ditli.” • PAnd be bound by her decision?” “Yes,” 1 said Ashton, hurriedly, and disappeared. A moment i later Wain heard him welcoming tlie young lady on the doorstep;" And on the fiat of this unsophisticated girl hung—as Wain naturally suspected—the future of her lover, and. the chances of Ben-Ezra having Ashton to defend him. All the same, the reporter could not understand why the shrewd -old Jew should engage the service of an untried man. He put it down to the same quixotism: as had prompted Ben-Ezra’s treatment of his mother. And yet, he had a kind of feeling at the back of his mind that Ben-Ezra was too subtle to thus risk his neck without having something or someone stronger than the inexperienced barrister to save him. " s '-j His reffeetioHS-were-ent short by tlie entrance’ of ' Judith, who smßed?divinely and affably; accepted. Lancelot’s apologies for the unavoidable essence of his .cousin. Ttea was brought in, and’ Judith presided. But not until he had finished a second cup did young Ashton come to the question of the brief. And Wain was too:clever to force the running... When Lancelot .spoke ho eid so with great abruptness. “Judith,” he said .clearly and slowly. “I gather from Air Wain Fere that Ben-Ezra, whom you know I hate, as having ruined my family and myself, has instructed his solicitor to ask me to defend him, and—” “You told me this before, dear, and I said —” “I know what you said. You wiali me to accept.” v “Yes,” said the girl unhesitatingly, “I do.?’ “Why?” “Because it will give you a great chance and I believe that Mr Ben-Ezra is innocent.” “I thought you hated him, Miss Verily,” put in Wain, quickly. “For Lancelot’s sake, not for my own. He has been kind to me, and against iny judgment—for Lancelot's sake,” she said again. “I like Inm. Father and mother both want him saved, and Lancelot can save hm.V “I doubt that,” said the young man, gloomily; “still, I ask you solemnly, if you wish me to accept this offer ?” • “Yes,” said Judith,, decidedly. “Accept.” “You will think me weak if I. doy” protested Lancelot. “Why should I ” she asked, opening her dark eyes to their widest. “Because I hate the Jew. I wish to injure the Jew, and I have said that I would not put out a finger to save him. By becoming his counsel I do away with all this, for I am bound to use my

best endeavors to get him off.” “He must be got off,” said tlie girl, eagerly. “I be).ere him to be innocent.” “Upon what grounds?” Judith used a truly feminine argument. “A man who was so kind to father as to save him cannot be a bad man, and only a bad man would have murdered that poor Sir Giles. Besides, as I have said before —Air Ben-Ezra has always been kind to me when he came to our house. ' I like hip very much indeed, until you set me against him, Lancelot. And then —” she stopped. '■ “What is it?” asked the young man, bending towards her, for Judith had hastily pulled out her handkerchief to dry the great tears rolling down her damask cheeks. “You must save him; he is innocent!” she sobbed; “unless you prove his innocence I shan’t marry you.” “Judith!” Ashton sprang to his feet quite bewildered, as indeed was Wain also. Neither of the - men could under-' stand this unexpected championship. “I mean I can’t marry you,” she faltered, and sobbed more violently than ever. “What do you mean, darling?” “Never mind.; only do what I ask you. I "shall explain myself when—when—when Air Ben-Ezra is free.” “I don’t understand,” said lot, distractedly. “Do you really wish me to "accept?” “Yes, I do. You asked me before, and I told you what I wanted.” “Well, then,” said Ashton, reluctantly, and with a wrinkled brow, for he could not understand the meaning of the scene. “I shall accept the hr iff.” Judith kissed him, and Wain stared wonderingly at the couple. (To be Continued.)