CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE ARRAIGNMENT.

It often falls, in course of common life, That right, long time, is overborne by wrong, Through avarice, or power, or guile, or strife, That weakens her and makes opponent strong; But Justice, though her doom she do prolong, Yet at the last she will her own cause right. SPENSER.

On the same Monday morning that witnessed the departure of the Flemings from Deloraine Park, the little town of Yockley was in an unusual commotion.

The assizes were to be opened that day.

The judges would enter the town at an early hour, and the great trial of the Crown _vs._ Valdimir Desparde, indicted for murder, was the first case on the docket.

The news of this impending trial, scattered broadcast through the country, had attracted a multitude of people to the scene.

Mrs. Perkins, Miss Mossop and Mr. Nott had arrived from London, and were accommodated at a lodging-house within a stone’s throw of the Guild Hall.

Mr. Michael McDermott and Mr. Alexander McQuilligan had also arrived, and were at the “Crown and Sceptre.”

Net Fleming would certainly be on time—that they knew.

Even the photographs of the absent and the dead had been procured from the Miston photographer for identification by the witnesses.

Everything was arranged, down to the smallest detail, when at ten o’clock, the sheriff himself appeared at the cell door and intimated that he would conduct Mr. Desparde to the court-room.

The carriage containing our party rolled into the back gate and up to the back door, unsuspected and unmolested.

The prisoner’s entrance had been managed so quietly that no one suspected his identity, or noticed him in any way.

The business of the trial was begun.

The jury was impaneled from the crowd in the court-room, and in a very short time, and then the prisoner was arraigned after the usual formula.

Thomas Potter, guard on the London and Northwestern Railway train, was duly sworn.

He was severely cross-examined by the counsel for the defense, and especially as to the identity of Mr. Valdimir Desparde with the person who had engaged the reserved compartment.

But he was obstinately certain upon that point.

Being “cornered,” however, he admitted that he had not recognized Mr. Desparde at Paddington, or, in fact at any subsequent station, until the train reached the Grand Junction, where he saw Mr. Desparde’s face quite plainly for the first time; and that he saw it often from that time, until they reached Miston Branch Junction, where he missed him.

The counsel for the prisoner made a note here.

The next witness called was Mrs. Jane Bottom, who being sworn, testified to the finding of the dead body in the railway carriage.

She was followed by the Misses Ann Jane and Maria Bottom, who corroborated her testimony.

Edward Hetley, railway porter at Yockley station, and formerly of Miston, testified to having seen the body of the murdered girl, and recognized it as that of Christelle Ken.

Dr. Lowe, of Yockley, testified to having made the post-mortem examination and to the cause of death—a wound, made by some sharp-pointed instrument, through the heart.

Two of the doctor’s medical assistants corroborated his testimony.

With these witnesses the case for the crown closed.

The court adjourned, with the understanding that on the following morning the senior counsel for the prisoner, Mr. Stair, would open for the defense.

After the court had adjourned the crowd lingered to get a view of the prisoner.

But the sheriff again circumvented them by quietly withdrawing Valdimir Desparde through the door on the left of the Judges’ bench leading into the sheriff’s office, and thence down the stairs to the back door.

Lord Beaudevere followed, and they all entered the carriage that was in waiting.

The baron accompanied his kinsman to the prison and remained with him in his cell, conversing cheerfully on his prospects until the hour came for the closing of the doors.

Then, with the promise to be on hand early the next morning to attend him to the court-room, Lord Beaudevere took leave and departed.

He entered his carriage and drove straight to the White Bear Inn, where he had taken up his temporary abode, not so much on account of the elegance and comfort of the quaint old house, as on that of its proximity to the prison.

Just as he stepped into the house, a waiter, who seemed to be on the lookout, came up, touched his hair, and handed him a small black-edged envelope.

Lord Beaudevere recognized Vivienne’s handwriting, opened it immediately and read the few lines it contained—

“DEAR BEAUE—Don’t be angry. We are here. Arielle _would_ come. I _had_ to attend her. The housekeeper and butler, being a staid old couple, are with us in lieu of other attendants. We are in numbers 59 and 60.

“V.”

The baron frowned and compressed his lips with vexation as he beckoned the waiter who had brought him the note.

“I suppose I must let them remain here until after the trial,” muttered the baron. “The dare-devils! I had done my utmost to dissuade them to take this step. Well! well! I must not scold them, for both are as deeply concerned as I am in the matter which has brought me here.”

The next morning Net made her appearance at the hostelry and was effusively greeted by the girls. Net was in earnest conversation with the girls, when they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Net herself went and opened it.

“A telegram for Mrs. Fleming,” said the voice of the waiter.

“When did this come?” inquired Net.

“Yesterday afternoon, ma’am. It has been waiting in the office for you ever since,” replied the waiter.

Net closed the door and opened the telegram. Then she dropped down upon the nearest chair, with a face blanched to marble.

The telegram was as follows:

“DELORAINE PARK, _December the —, 12 o’clock_ M. DR. BEDE to MRS. ADRIAN FLEMING, _White Bear Inn, Yockley, Cumberland_: Miss Deloraine died at 7:15 A. M.”

“What is it? A telegram did he say? Does it relate to the witnesses for the trial?” inquired Arielle, stepping out of bed to join her friend. “Why, Net, you are as white as a ghost! What is it?”

“It is—a telegram from—Antoinette’s medical attendant—Dr. Bede. She is—there has been—a change,” stammered Net, with quivering lips and brimming eyes.

“Antoinette has _gone_! She has changed this world for the next!” exclaimed Arielle, in an awestruck tone. “You will not go back this morning?”

“No, it would be of no use to her for me to go, since she _is_ gone; even if I were at liberty to do so, which I am not. I am subpœnaed as a witness on this trial, you know,” gently replied Net.

“Yes, and your evidence is of vital importance to Valdimir.”

“But, of course, I must return to Deloraine Park, just as soon as I am free to do so,” replied Net, struggling hard to keep back the tears that sprang to her eyes.

She had seen so much of death in her short life—her father, her mother, her step-father, her friends and relatives had dropped fast around her. In truth, Net needed all her Christian faith to support her spirit—needed every day to pray for faith and hope to sustain her wounded and suffering love.

At this moment Vivienne came out of the bathroom, dressed for the day.

She greeted Net with a kiss, ascribed her pale face to the fatigue of her night’s journey, and inquired how she had left Antoinette.

Then they told her the truth.

Vivienne was deeply shocked and grieved, though indeed she had been for some days past expecting to hear the sad news which had just reached them.

The clock struck nine and warned the three young women that they must make themselves ready to attend the court, which was to meet within an hour.

Net Fleming withdrew to the room engaged for herself, to make her clean toilet for the breakfast table and later for the witness-stand.

Vivienne went into the parlor to communicate the news of Antoinette’s death to Lord Beaudevere.

Half an hour later they all met around the board in Lady Arielle’s private sitting-room, where the Flemings had been invited to join their friends at breakfast.

“I am very glad you have come, Fleming,” said the baron, cheerfully; “for I was rather embarrassed with the presence of these two young ladies. Not expecting to find them here, I had promised Valdimir to go with _him_ to the court, and but for your timely arrival I should have had to disappoint him, and I should not like to have done that, I assure you. Now, however, you can take charge of these girls and leave me to attend my kinsman.”

“I shall be most happy to be useful,” replied Mr. Fleming, with a grave bow, for he was still very much affected by the news of Antoinette’s departure.

“You will have to get a second carriage, and, _mind_, drive to the Orchard street entrance, where I will take you all up through the sheriff’s office to seats near the bench,” concluded the baron, as they arose from the table.

The young ladies retired to put on their bonnets and the gentlemen went down to see to the carriages, that they might be well aired and comfortable—for the day was a raw, damp, cold one.

A few minutes later two carriages were drawn up before the door.

Beaue, with courtly grace, put the three young ladies in one of them, and, turning, said to Mr. Fleming:

“You had better drive at once to the Guild Hall. Enter by the Orchard street gate, as I advised you, and wait at the rear door until I come up. I have to go first to the prison; but it is not far, and I shall not be more than ten or fifteen minutes behind you.”

Fleming bowed, entered the carriage, and seated himself beside Net.

The baron entered the second carriage.

And then both vehicles drove out of the inn yard and separated, the one taking its way to the prison, the other to the court-house.

The distance to the prison was very short.

Lord Beaudevere found his kinsman and the sheriff already down in the hall on the ground floor.

Immediately after the morning salutations they all three entered the carriage to drive to the Guild Hall.

As they went on, the baron delighted his young kinsman with the news that his sister and his betrothed had arrived in town.

[Illustration: [Fleuron]]