HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times-Advocate, 1936-06-11, Page 2THURSDAY, JUNE 11th, 1936 THE EXETER TIMES-ADVOCATE
CHAPTER ONE
The Judge concluded his charge.
The jury stirred, collected itself to
leave for its room to consider the
verdict. The prisoner obeyed the
touch of a deputy on his shoulder
and got to his feet. He looked across
the .courtroom to the girl who sat
at the table assigned to counsel for
the defense. He lifted his hand to
her in a gesture half appeal, half
encouragment, and she stood up to
smile an answei* at him.
Heads craned, people stared hard,
as they had been staring for weeks
at lovely young Judith Pennet, who
believed in the prisoner, her father’s
innocence. A murmur rose in the
room. He was guilty. The jury
would not be out long. When it re
turned and pronounced Chester Pen-
net guilty of embezzlement of the
funds of the bank where he had
worked for most of his life, the curly
(brown head of this daughter would
not lift so proudly, the red mouth
would not smile so 'bravely. That’s
what one element in the courtroom
thought.
The murmur shifted. The verdict
might be "not guilty.’’ Then Judith’s
loyalty would be rewarded. Surely
she deserved something, a girl of
20 whose father had been disgraced,
whose father had deserted them both
to live abroad with a man she could
not marry.
What was it she had said when
reporters asked her about Clio Pen-
net’s elopement? ‘I have no mother.’
Bitter words on one so young and
slight. And what was it about . . .
ah . . . he was going to speak to
<her, .Spencer Owen, the youthful as
sistant prosecutor of the case. The
murmur died completely. Here was
a new act in the drama.
A Silent Rebuff
The crowd guessed shrewdly at
the effort it. cost him to leave his
place and walk to the defense table.
His tall, well set up figure with its
easy carriage, his eyes and mouth,
serious now, his fearless direct
glance were all concentrated on the
necessity of speaking to Judith. He
stopped at .her side.
"Judith,’’ he spoke her name too
quietly for the crowd to hear. But
they could watch, avidly. She did
not move.
"Judith, please.”
Deliberately she looked up at him.
Then without a sign, without a flick
er of the eyelashes or a movement
of her -month, she .averted her head,
fpicked up a sheet of paper that lay
on the table and 'began to read it.
There could be no mistake about the
meaning of her act.
A slow red rose in .Spencer’s face.
He did not pretend to speak to her
father’s attorney, who was observ
ing the scene. A small sigh escaped
him. The red deepened in his face.
He turned and went back to his chair
Judith continued to look at the
paper. Foolscap, 'containing notes
made for defense evidence, she held
it in her hand. It was real, smooth,
crisp, definite to the touch. But the
words she saw were written there
from her own mind. /Not guilty, not
guilty, not guilty.” they danced
crazily up and down and across the
(paper, blotting out the fine neat
writing of her father’s lawyer.
She moved her lips’, "Not guilty
. . . please God, not guilty,” and
the words were a prayer so intense
that a thin, cold sweat broke out in
the palms of her nervous hands. How
long before she would know? She
looked at the clock. The jury had
been, out fifteen minutes now.
She must look away • from the
clock. She must think of something
else before she screamed aloud those
words she wanted to hear, must
hear.
Spencer Owen leaned forward to
look at her. Anxiety and compassion
were in his eyes and, while she held
the muscles of her face rigid, she
felt an inner softening that sent the
tears stinging against her eyelids.
Memories
The room bludder, .She was releas
ed from it. She had the sensation
of floating back, back, back in time
and space to the very beginning of
the nightmare in which she lived
now. Only it wasn’t a nightmare,
that beginning, that soft April night
of full moon two months earlier . .
She lived it all again. She saw
lher face as it had smiled back at
from her mirror. A little more lip
stick? Spencer was coming. Rouge?
Not needed. ’Spencer said she had a
lovely color of her' own, and she did,
that night, that now seemed so long
ago. That one curl that would come
dowm over her left ear, untidy, but
Spencer’ liked it. They were going
to it on the side porch that over
looked the garden where daffodils
rioted now, fragrant and fair in the
moonlight.
They were going to talk. And
Spencer was going to say . . .
There went the bell. There were the
sounds of her mother’s polite, high-
pitched tones, her father’s deeper
ones. Spencer’s voice asking small
talk while he waited for her. She
wanted to run down to him. She
wanted to stay in hed room.
Then she went demurely down
the stairs, laid her hand in Spencer’s
stayed the necessary moments talk
ing to Clio and Chester, and then,
conscious of Spencer’s quiet strength
beside her, was with him in the gar
den.
"See,” she had said, "how lovely
the daffodils are? And the tulips are
in bud. They’ll be out next week,
all glorious.”
“I see,” Spencer had replied va
guely. "I see.” Then she was in his
arms, her head .held tight against
his shoulder. And presently "Oh,”
Judith had said in a small voice. "I
. . . didn’t know it was like that.”
Spencer laughed, only it was as
though he laughed through deep
tears, "Neither did I ... it’s bet
ter even than I’d dreamed,” and he
kissed her again to make sure of
the truth he spoke.
Judith didn’t want to cry. She
said: "How many girls have you
kissed ”
"Thousands. How many men have
you kissed?”
"None.”
"You’re a darling little liar,” said
Spencer. "I’ve kissed you myself,
and you went around with Pat At
kins all last summer, and he’s a ter
rible necker.”
“I mean really kissed.”
"Ask me again.”
Young Love ’
Judith drew back and looked up
at him straight and true. "How many
girls have you 'really kissed ”
"One, and I’m going to kiss her
again.”
"Why?”
They -paused a moment, looking
at each other, a little breathless, a
little frightened.
"I love you, Judith,” said Spencer
and waited, his hands on her shoul
ders.
"I love you, Spencer,” said Judith
just as clearly.
There was a .shabby old swing on
the porch. It creaked discreetly
when they went to sit in it and made
them laugh.
“ Are you in love? Since when?
Tell me about it,” he had said.
"Oh, since a long long time—al
ways, I believe.”
"With whom?”
"Name’s Spencer Owen. Do" you
know ’him?’
"A little . . . don’t think much of
him. He’s in love with a grand girl,
Judith Pennet. Do you know her?”
“A little. I fear she is far too good
for him.”
“She is,” said Spencer.
"Silly, said Judith, and eliminat
ed the last fraction of an inch be
tween them. That had been two
months ago. Heir memory uncon
sciously brought back a further pic
ture of that night.
"Since you’re so well-beheaved,”
Spencer observed, "I’ll tell you
something.”
"I’ll bet I know.”
"I’ll bet you don’t.” He drew a
long breath. "Today/ he said, im
pressively, "I got my appointment
to an assistant prosecutorship for our
town of Bayville, suburb to the
mighty city of New York. I don’t
think I could have kept from telling
you I love you very much longer,
Judy. But to have that happen to
day . . . well, it means we won’t
have to wait at all to be married.
I have -something real to offer you;
not just a struggling private law
practice, but a sure, if small, in
come for us to live on, and the
chance to make a reputation, so we
won’t have to be so damnably poor
right from the start.”
"It’s wonderful. Spencer, though
I’d not have minded being poor.”
"I know you wouldn’t, Judy. But
it will be easier this way. I don’t
want you to have to live too^ differ
ently from the way you’ve always
lived.”
Judith had pressed ihei4 lips tightly
together. "I hate the way I live
1
i
A Face Covered With Pimples
Causes Much Embarrassment
There is little doubt felt that impure and
impoverished blood is* the soil on which
those ted, white, pus filled pimples de
velop and thrive, and that nothing short
of a vigorous, persistent blood purifying
treatment will eradicate them from the
system.
Burdock Blood Bitters banishes bad blood
and with the bad blood banished the skin
becomes free from pimples.
Tty a few bottles and bo convinced.
RURDOCK
Bitters
now,” she- cried. "Always a little
beyond -our means. Daddy works
like a slave so we can ihave a house
that’s too big, entertain more than
we can afford, give Mother* more
clothes than she needs, send me to
private .schools .... all that. I
hate it, Spencer. It isn’t honest.”
“I didn’t know. I’d never thought
I supposed there was some income
other than what your father earns
in the bank.”
"There isn’t. I don’t want to talk
about it, but I will say this. If I
thought we were going to be like
Daddy and Mother are together, I’d
nevei* marry you, ever, no matter
how much I loved you,"
"It’s hard, I suppose, to be fair
to your parents,” Spencer sug
gested. "Of course, I don’t know,
darling. Mine are dead, and it was
old Aunt Mary who brought me up.”
High Ideals
"I try to be fair, Spencer and I
know it’s hard, because Mother is
twenty years younger than Daddy.
She likes to be gay and go places.
He works -so hard; he’s too tired at
night. Tie’s never made enough
money bo suit her, and yet he wor
ships her, .Spence. The more she
complains the harder he works.
Honestly, I think he worships the
ground she walks on, and she—
she------”
"Say it, darling,” Spencer took her
hands. "You’H feel better if you
say it.”
"She despises him,” Judith whis
pered. "I know she does.”
Spencer had ’held her quietly, and
then, to soothe her, harked bacK
in their conversation. “You said a
little while ago that the way you
live now isn’t honest, Judy. Well,
it hit me hard for you to say that,
for it’s the one thing I want more
than anything else—to live honest
ly; not just in .my personal life,
ibut in my (ptrofessiional life. It’s
hard, Judy,” for there’s the temp
tation to easy money, to take cases
you don’t believe in because they
pay well. I haven’t done it so far,
but I can see 'how, if we were mar
ried and had children and needed
things, it would be a terrible temp
tation to compromise, to say: ‘Every
one else does it.’ ”
“Don’t you ever do that!” Judith
had cried, sitting up straight. "But
then, you won’t need to now. You’ll
just take the cases assigned to you,
won’t you?”
"Yes, but even then there’s all
kinds of politics played in the Pros
ecutor’s office—crooks that will send
favors in the way of Prosecutors
who don’t push them too hard—
that sort of thing. I’ll tell you
what, Judy: I’m going to be honest.
I’m- going to fight every single case
I get, no matter whose toes are step
ped on. Crandall—you know he’s
the new 'Chief Prosecuting Attor
ney who .gave me my appointment—
went in on a reform ticket and he’s
playing on the up and up now.
But he’s human. He wants to be
re-elected. I happen to know he’s
being pushed hard by Gilbert Soun
ders, our boss out here, to go easy
on those 'racketeering -cases, and he
may weaken if Saunders holds out
big enough favors.”
Pledge of Faith
Judith had sighed: "Oh Spence, if
we can just be honest and love each
other! Do you know, if a whole lot
of people would do that, why it
would make the whole world a dif
ferent place to live in. Let’s be
different, Spencer. Let’s not grow
stodgy, old and ordinary.”
"We are different,” Spencer had
told her. "We love each other.
Why, Judy, I don’t have to be in
the same place to be with you. I’m-
with you, you’re with he, all the
time. That’s ho'w it is with me,
Judy.”
"That’s how it is with us," she
amended.
“Judy, it’s April now. Couldn-’t we
be married early in May?”
"I’ll try, .Spencer. Mother will
want to have a big wedding, I know.
I’ll talk to her. I’d like to keep it
quiet, not only because it’s what I’d
like best but also because I’d like to
save Daddy something if I can. ”
"I’ll go to see him tomorrow dar
ling.”
"They’re still up, I may tell them
tonight. I can’t keep this much
happiness to myself, Spencer.”
"Tell every -one,” -Spencer cried.
"I’m going to.”
"You won’t have to—you look so
silly with happiness that you might
just as well have my name painted
on your forehead.”
"The same to you ... I don’t
want to go, Judith, but I have to. I
have to be at the office at 1 o’clock
tomorrow to start packing papers. I
want to move over to my new hole
in the wall; that’s all an assistant
prosecutor draws, you know.”
Judith went into the shelter of
his arms, felt his 'heart beat hard
agains her own, went at last intp the
house wrapped in the glory of that
farewell embrace. She paused before
the hall mirror. Curious, she looked
very much the same, -She had patted
her hair in -order, composed her
face and gone into the living-room
of the too-big house Chester Pennet
had built for his adored wife, Clio.
It was like, thought Judith at the
time, going into- a cold and gloomy
cavern, to enter into the presence of
Chester and Clio when Clio had one'
of her moods on, as she obviously
had tonight, Judith felt the im
pulse to let her- news die in her.
"She wants -something,” Judith
thought, glancing at her mother,
"She wants something most awfully
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is going to give it to her. Poor Dad-
ry, he looks all in.”
She went to sit on the arm of her
father’s chair, "Nice evening?” he
asked, putting down his magazine.
"Oih, lovely.” .Some of the joy
flowed back and she might have
gone on, but Clio spoke, crossly.
“Go to bed, Judith. It’s nearly
midnight.”
"No.” This word from Chester
fell into the room with the effect of
a bombshell. "I want her to stay
here a little while.”
Arrested
Clio made no reply. The atmos
phere- of tension thickened in the
room until it was almast palpable.
Memory vididly left its imprint of
the dramatic moment that had fol
lowed.
Judith sat on a footstool near the
door, dreamed of Spencer, wondered
with a part of her mind why lher
father wanted her to remain, glanc
ed now and then at Clio, who was
watching the door.
Into this brooding silence the
doorbell had clanged harshly. Judith
jumped. "I’ll go,” she said and was
on her feet before either Chestei’ or
Clio could say anything. It must be
■Spencer returning f-or some reason,
perhaps to speak to her father to
night instead of waiting till .morn
ing. iShe threw the door -open. Two
policemen stood there. They took -off
their hats to the bewildered Judith.
"Is Mt. Chestei’ Pennet at home?”
one of them asked.
"Y—-yes . . . 'he’s .'here .... I
Chester appeared in the doorway
of the living room. Clio was behind
him.
"We have a warrant for the arrest
of Mr. Chester Pennet,” said one of
the officers, taking out a paper.
For a moment no one spoke, then
Clio' leaned forward and asked: "Is
it for embezzlement, that warrant
you hold?”
"Yes, ma’am.”
"Oh,” Clio let out her breath in
a long sigh and Judith looked at
her mother. What was it, that
strange expression in Clio’s eyes?
Not anxietynot shame . . . tri
umph, that was what it was. Clio
was glad, glad Chester, her husband
Judith’s father, was to be arrested
From this dreadful fact Judith
shrank to a consideration of her
father-. How strangely serene he was.
He said to tike officer: "If you will
let me get some things.”
"Yes, sir. We got orders to bring
you back. Officer Murphy’ll go with
you while you get your things.”
That made it real, that blue coat
ed officer going up the stairs after,
Chester, watching him wlhile he col
lected toilet articles, a light coat, a
book to read. Judith had followed.
Chester took her hand as he went
back down the stairs.
"Don’t worry, my dear,” he said
and kisesd her. Then he seemed to
forget her.
The night that followed, the days
that followed that night were a
frenzied nightmare. There were first
the voices that roused her a little
after* midnight. She knew them, her
mother’s and that of 'Clarence 'Ste
vens, a vice-president, of the bank
where Chester worked. Judith felt
a warmth in. 'her heart. Clio had
sent for help, but after a little there
were no more voices, and led by an
impulse she never examined, Judith
crept into her mother's room and
found the note.
"I have gone abi*oad with Clar
ence and will not return.”
Just that, mo more, a piece that
fitted somewhere into the crazy pat
tern Judith’s life took on.
With morning she tried to act,
herself, She saw her father, talked
with him through the bars of a cell
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Published every Thursday morning
SUBSCRIPTION—?2.0iQ per year In
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RATES—Farm or Real Estate for
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ticles. To Rent, Wanted, Lost, or
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Reading notices 10c. per line.
Card of Thanks 50-c. Legal ad
vertising 12 and 8c. per line. In
Memorlam, with -one verse 50c,
extra verses 25c. each.
Member of The Canadian Weekly
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in the county jail, heard him say,
"Yes, Judith, I am innocent,” She
believed him then. She would always
believe him.
Spencer Turns Prosecutor
She had gone to Spencer with her
belief. "Judith, darling, it’s ter
rible, I know, I an’t understand it.
But $50,000 has been stolen from the
bank, and there are memoranda of
the dates and amounts in your
father’s handwriting. They were
among his own papers.”
"But, he didn’t do it. I know he
didn’t!”
"Judith let’s be married now, this
very morning. Let me take care of
you.”
"But I must help father.”
"Judith,” Spencer’s voice was very
dreadful, "marry me. Look, dar
ling. I—I—I have to prosecute him
but if we’re married, maybe they’ll
let me 'off of it.”
"Spencer!”
"I can’t help it. I have to do it.”
"You thing he’s guilty?”
"There’s the evidence.”
"And you’d work to put my father
in jail, Spencer, to send him to the
penitentiary when I tell you he’s in
nocent?”
"I—there’s such a thing as duty,
Judith.”
And more and more until wound
ed past bearing she went from the
office home to place herself firmly
in the position, she meant to main
tain. Chester Pennet was innocent,
He had told her so and she believed
him. Clio had deserted them both.
Spencer, at this first test of the feel
ing between them, had made himself
her enemy. She was alone, com
pletely, miserably, and alone she had
stayed to this very moment when
the hands of the Courthouse clock
told her tihe jury had been -out for
nearly two hours now. Her thoughts
came back to the present intense
moment.
The door of the courtroom opened,
The jury filed in, Judith Sank back
in her chair., Now , . . flier throat
whs -dry , , now , . . her hands
shook , . . now, before that clock
hand reached the figure six marking
the half-ihour . . . she would know
. , . could gather up the pieces of
her shattered dream , , , but they
hud grim faces, those jurymen , , •;
Chester came back . , , his eyes
(hopeful . , . the Judge entered . »
the bailiff called for silence, The
foreman of the jury .rose to speak.
To Bo Continued
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ROBBERS FAIL
The armed holdup by two unknown
men at the farm of Everett Taylor,
near Bly th, failed in its main -object
The robbers got only $1.40 and two
watches.
Fortunately Mr. Taylor, who, had
sold his hogs the same after-noon
and had the proceeds in his p' was not home at the time of the'^^BBf
bery. The holdup men repeated^B^r
asked for Mr. Taylor, -stating that
he had once done them a mean, trick
and they were going to get even.
For this reason the police believe the
robbery to be a local "job” but no
arfests have been made.
Stewart Ament, the 15-year-old
hired man, who. was alone when the
robbers called, bears an excellent
reputation. He says the- two men,
wearing masks, forced him at the
point of guns to take a key, hidden
in a handkerchief above the door,
open the door and they then ran
sacked the house. Tlhey took his
watch and money. Mr, Taylor’s val
uable watch and a child’s saving
bank.
’Coming away, they forced him to
lock the -door and took the key away
so .he couldn’t telephone for help.
They disappeared Into a bush.
The boy was still scared when po
lice arrived, but told a straight for
ward story.