<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV" />CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
<h3>THE SUBPŒNA</h3>
<p>A few days after the incident in Margaret Terrace, Shiel had an
inspiration. He was lunching with an old schoolfellow whom, quite by
chance, he had met in Lincoln's Inn, having previously lost sight of him
for many years, and the conversation, which had at first been confined
to the old days, had gradually drifted to what was ever uppermost in
Shiel's mind—namely, the Modern Sorcery Company, <i>i. e.</i> Hamar, Kelson
and Curtis.</p>
<p>"Did you know," his friend remarked, "that the old statute, introduced
in Henry the Fifth's reign against sorcery, has never been repealed?"</p>
<p>"You don't mean to say so," Shiel cried excitedly—a vague idea dawning
on him. "Tell me all about it."</p>
<p>"Well, that's rather a long order. For one thing, it imposes all kinds
of penalties from capital punishment to fines. For another, it was in
force up to the beginning of George the Third's reign, when the last
case of a person being burned for witchery in England occurred, and
since then it has fallen into disuse."</p>
<p>"Could it be revived?" Shiel asked, a sudden wild hope surging through
him.</p>
<p>"For all I know to the contrary, it could," his friend—who, by the way,
was a barrister—replied. "Of course no one could be burned or hanged
under it, but they might be fined or imprisoned."</p>
<p>"Then I wish to goodness you would file a case against the Modern
Sorcery Company! I'd move heaven and earth to get the scoundrels sent to
prison!" And he told his friend how matters stood between Gladys and
Hamar.</p>
<p>The barrister—whose name was Sevenning—H.V. Sevenning, of T.C.D. and
Cheltenham College renown—was keenly interested. It was not only that
his sense of chivalry was stirred, but he saw sport. Consequently, the
foregoing conversation resulted in a prosecution which, taking place
some four weeks later, was reported in the London Herald as follows—</p>
<div class="blockquot"><p class="hl">Extraordinary Charge Heard at the Old Bailey.<br/>
Revival of an Ancient Statute.</p>
<p> Yesterday, at the Old Bailey, before His Honour Judge Rosher, Leon
Hamar, Edward Curtis and Matthew Kelson, of the Modern Sorcery
Company Ltd., were indicted under the 23rd of Henry the Fifth, C.
15, which makes it a capital offence to practise and administer
spells. The case for the prosecution promises to be a lengthy one.
An enormous number of witnesses, who are most anxious to make
statements, will be called; and it is anticipated that much of
their evidence will be of a most extraordinary nature.</p>
<p> The accused are cited with having worked spells to the
injury—which injury, in many instances, has been fatal—of a vast
number of people, representative of every rank in life.</p>
<p> Hilda, Countess of Ramsgate, who appeared in heavy mourning, was
the first witness called. In her evidence she stated, that it was
owing to an advertisement she had seen in the <i>Ladies' Meadow</i>,
that she had consulted the Modern Sorcery Company Ltd., with the
object of buying a spell to prevent her Pekingese pet, Brutus,
catching colds on his liver. She had hoped to see Mr. Kelson, as
she had heard that he was more sympathetic, where ladies were
concerned, than either Mr. Hamar or Mr. Curtis, but as Mr. Kelson
was engaged, she had consulted Mr. Edward Curtis instead. The
latter had given her a spell which he had assured her would have
the desired effect, but directly she got home, her adored Brutus
developed melancholia, and died raving mad, after having bitten her
child, who, by the way, had died, too.</p>
<p> For the defence, Gerald Kirby, K.C., declared that the spell his
client had given the Countess was perfectly harmless; that it could
not possibly have produced either melancholia or madness. "Can any
dependence," he said, "be placed on a woman, who obviously thinks
more of her dog's death than that of her child!"</p>
<p> The Court was adjourned till to-morrow. </p>
</div>
<p>In the following day's paper, the evidence for the prosecution was
continued. Lady Marjorie Tatler, who, in the weekly and illustrated
journals, for no other reason than her reputed beauty, was reintroduced
over and over again to the long-suffering public, was the first to step
into the witness-box.</p>
<div class="blockquot"><p>She declared that Edward Curtis, instead of giving her a spell to
make Florillda win the Derby, had given her a diabolical something
that had brought out spots all over her face, and that she had to
undergo a most expensive treatment before they could be got rid of.</p>
<p> In cross-examination, Lady Marjorie Tatler admitted that she had
asked Edward Curtis for a spell that would cause all the horses
running in that particular race, save Florillda, to be taken ill.</p>
<p> For the defence, Gerald Kirby, K.C., explained that his client was
so disgusted at the immorality of Lady Marjorie's request, that he
had purposely given her a spell that would have no effect upon a
horse, and could not possibly bring out spots on her Ladyship's
face. "The spell Edward Curtis gave her," Gerald Kirby said, "was a
mixture of hempseed and sago, flavoured with violet powder, and my
client instructed her Ladyship to wear it next her heart." (Loud
laughter.)</p>
<p> Lady Coralie Mars, the next witness, who declared she had sought a
spell to make the man, she was forced into marrying, fall into a
trance, just before the marriage ceremony was to take place; and
that, instead of bringing this about, the spell Edward Curtis had
sold her had caused her to have St. Vitus's Dance,—was adroitly
trapped into admitting that she had really wanted her fiancé
smitten with paralysis. "A wish," Gerald Kirby announced, with a
dramatic flourish of his hands, "that so aroused my client's
indignation that, instead of giving her the spell she wanted, he
gave her one that would make her affianced husband more than ever
hungry for the marriage hour to arrive. As for St. Vitus's Dance,
would any woman, with an emotional and hysterical-nature, such as
obviously was that of Lady Coralie Mars, ever be free from such a
complaint?"</p>
<p> The Hon. Augusta Mapple, who stated that she had visited the Modern
Sorcery Company, for the purpose of obtaining a spell to bring
about a defeat of the Government, by afflicting the bulk of their
supporters with such bilious attacks as would necessitate their
absence from the House, and that, instead of giving her such a
spell, Edward Curtis had given her one which had caused every
member of her household to fall downstairs—admitted, under
cross-examination, that she had asked for a spell that would make
every supporter of the Government in the House be suddenly seized
with tetanus. "A diabolical request, your lordship," Gerald Kirby
said, "and one to which my client could not possibly accede.
Consequently, as a punishment for such cruelty, he sold her a spell
that would result in her having a sharp attack of toothache. It
could not possibly have produced any of the mishaps she attributes
to it." </p>
</div>
<p>It is unnecessary to quote further. By far the greater number of these
witnesses, on being cross-examined by Mr. Kirby, who defended with an
ability that has rarely, if ever, been excelled, were made to confess
that they had wanted the spells for a far more subtle and dangerous
purpose than they had previously stated; admissions which, of course,
were highly prejudicial to the case for the prosecution.</p>
<p>Shiel lost hope. He had looked forward to the trial with an excitement
that almost bordered on frenzy. It was never out of his mind. He thought
of it at meals, he thought of it at his work, he thought of it out of
doors, and, when he went to bed, he dreamed of it.</p>
<p>"I'll save you! I'll save you yet!" he wrote to Gladys. "The trial can
only result in one thing—the breaking up and imprisonment of the trio."</p>
<p>But when he read the papers each day, and saw how, in almost every
instance, evidence which ought to have been damning to the accused, had
been twisted into their favour, his heart sank.</p>
<p>There was only one chance now—Lilian Rosenberg. She, of all the staff
employed in the Hall in Cockspur Street, was best acquainted with the
<i>modus operandi</i> of Messrs. Hamar, Curtis and Kelson.</p>
<p>"We must get hold of that girl at all costs," H.V. Sevenning remarked to
Shiel. "You say you feel sure she likes you. Work upon her feelings to
show the Firm up."</p>
<p>"I don't much like the idea of it," Shiel said, "but I suppose the end
justifies the means."</p>
<p>"Of course it does!" Sevenning retorted. "It's your only chance of
saving Miss Martin."</p>
<p>Acting on this suggestion, Shiel approached Lilian Rosenberg on the
subject.</p>
<p>"What about the spells?" he asked her. "Have you found out yet how Hamar
works them?"</p>
<p>"I have only heard him muttering in his room again," she said, her
cheeks paling. "And—you will only laugh at me—I have seen queer
shadows hovering in his doorway and stealing down the passages, shadows
that have terrified me. I never knew what real fear was before I came to
Cockspur Street, and for the past few weeks I have been almost too
afraid to open my room door, for fear I should see something standing
outside."</p>
<p>"You have no doubt, I suppose, in your own mind, that the trio practise
sorcery?"</p>
<p>"I certainly think they are helped in all they do by evil spirits."</p>
<p>"Do you approve of such proceedings?"</p>
<p>"I don't think them right. I don't think we have any right to pry into
the Unknown. Some day, undoubtedly, it will be given us to know, but
until that day comes, we had far better leave it alone."</p>
<p>"If you think like that," Shiel said, "how can you reconcile yourself to
working for these people?"</p>
<p>"How can I help myself?" Lilian Rosenberg answered. "Beggars can't be
choosers. I am not responsible for what they do."</p>
<p>"But supposing you knew they were about to commit a very heinous crime,
wouldn't you feel it your duty to try and circumvent them?"</p>
<p>"That depends," Lilian Rosenberg said. "If I could stop them without
running any risk of losing my post, then I would probably try to stop
them, but if stopping them meant being 'sacked,' I most certainly
shouldn't. It isn't so easy to get posts nowadays—especially good
paying posts like this. What do you take me for, a fool!"</p>
<p>"Then you don't believe in self-sacrifice, even for a friend?" Shiel
said slowly.</p>
<p>"That depends on the degree of friendship," Lilian replied. "If it were
for some one I liked very much, then—perhaps!"</p>
<p>"Is there any one you like very much! I, somehow, couldn't fancy you
being very fond of any one."</p>
<p>"Couldn't you?" Lilian said, with a faint laugh. "You don't think me
capable of any deep affection. You forget, perhaps, that a woman doesn't
always wear her heart on her sleeve."</p>
<p>"I confess I don't understand women," Shiel said, "and I had best come
to the point at once. I happen to know that the trio—or at least one of
the trio—is contemplating doing something ultra-abominable—a cruel and
shameful wrong, which I particularly wish to prevent. But I may not be
able to do anything without your help! Will you help me?"</p>
<p>"How <i>can</i> I?" Lilian asked.</p>
<p>"Why, by finding out something which might be damning evidence against
them, or by stating your opinion in Court. There is only one way of
staying the trio from doing this dastardly thing, and that is by
getting this case, which is now being tried, to go against them."</p>
<p>"Well, and supposing, by some chance, the defendants should win! What
would become of me?"</p>
<p>"Ah! that is where your self-sacrifice would come in! It would be a
noble action."</p>
<p>"How does this wrong, you say they are about to perpetrate, touch on you
personally?"</p>
<p>"It touches on some one with whom I am personally acquainted."</p>
<p>"Some one you like?"</p>
<p>"Yes!"</p>
<p>"A relation?"</p>
<p>"That I can't say."</p>
<p>"Then I can't help you. I am naturally inquisitive; curiosity is, as you
know, a woman's privilege. You must tell me all."</p>
<p>"It's for a friend, then!"</p>
<p>"A man?"</p>
<p>"No," Shiel replied, "for a girl!"</p>
<p>There was an emphatic silence, and then Lilian Rosenberg spoke.</p>
<p>"Have I ever heard you mention her?"</p>
<p>"Occasionally," Shiel replied.</p>
<p>There was silence again. Then Lilian Rosenberg said slowly—</p>
<p>"You surely don't mean Gladys Martin! I can think of no one else."</p>
<p>"I do mean her!" Shiel replied, dropping his eyes. "She is to be coerced
into marrying Hamar."</p>
<p>"The silly fool!" Lilian Rosenberg said. "I would like to see any one
trying to coerce me. And it is to serve <i>her</i> you want me to sacrifice
myself." And she turned away in disgust.</p>
<p>After this interview, Lilian studiously avoided Shiel; and despairing,
at length, of ever winning her over, Shiel reported his failure to H.V.
Sevenning.</p>
<p>"We must subpœna her," said Sevenning.</p>
<p>"You'll never get her to speak that way," Shiel said. "If once she has
made up her mind not to do a thing, nothing will ever compel her."</p>
<p>"I have heard that said of people before," H.V. Sevenning replied dryly,
"but it's wonderful what the witness-box can do; it loosens the most
mulish tongues in a marvellous manner."</p>
<p>"It wouldn't hers," Shiel maintained.</p>
<p>H.V. Sevenning, however, thought he knew best—what lawyer doesn't?
Moreover, it was all part of the game—the great game of becoming
notorious at all costs. He served the subpœna.</p>
<p>Like most modern girls, Lilian Rosenberg was wholly selfish; and for
this fault only her parents were to blame. She had been brought up with
the one idea of pleasing herself, of saying and doing exactly what she
thought fit; and no one had ever thwarted her. Now, however, the
unforeseen had happened. She was smitten with the grand passion, and
confronted for the first time in her life with the startling proposition
of "self-sacrifice." She loved Shiel. She wouldn't marry him for the
very simple reason he had no money—but that only added poignancy to the
situation. She loved him all the more. She knew Shiel loved Gladys
Martin. Whether he could ever marry Gladys was another matter—but he
loved her all the same. And the proposition, that had been so abruptly
thrust upon Lilian Rosenberg, was that she should sacrifice herself, not
only to save Gladys Martin from marrying Hamar, but to pave the way for
Shiel, supposing Gladys could reconcile herself to penury, to marry her
himself. In other words she had been called upon to give up what was, at
the moment, dearest to her in the world, and to court all the
inconveniences and worries of being thrown out of employment—for if she
gave evidence that would in any way tend to damage the firm of Hamar,
Curtis & Kelson, she would undoubtedly lose her post and, in all
probability, never get another—at least not another as good—for the
sake of a woman whom she did not know, but, nevertheless, hated.</p>
<p>Yet there was in her, as there is in almost every girl, however up to
date, a chord that responded to the heroic. A short time back she would
have scoffed at the very thought of self-sacrifice; but now, she
actually caught herself considering it. She kept on considering it, too,
until the trial was well advanced, and had practically made up her mind
to denounce the trio and go to the wall herself, when the subpœna was
served.</p>
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