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Updated: June 4, 2025
She stood, the paper still clutched in her hand, her cheeks redder than the crimson velvet carpet. His astonished eyes fell upon it he who ran might read the Chesholm Courier in big, black letters, and in staring capitals, the "TRADGEDY OF CATHERON ROYALS." The smile faded from Sir Victor Catheron's lips, the faint color, walking in the chill wind had brought, died out of his face.
"A most terrible thing," Edith said; "but one has only to read the papers, to learn such deeds of horror are done every day. Life is a terribly sensational story. You say it is shrouded in darkness, but the Chesholm Courier did not seem at all in the dark." "You mean Inez Catheron. She was innocent." "Indeed!" "She was not guilty, except in this she knew who was guilty, and concealed it.
Let it be the work of the coroner and his jury to discover the terrible secret, to bring the wretch to justice. And it is the duty of every man and woman in Chesholm to aid, if they can, that discovery." From Tuesday's Edition. The inquest began at one o'clock yesterday in the parlor of the Mitre Inn, Lady Helena Powyss, of Powyss Place, and Miss Inez Catheron being present.
I suppose it's natural she should prefer the owner of Catheron Royals and twenty thousand per annum, to a poor devil of a sailor like me; but all the same it's hard lines. Good-by, Inez be sisterly, can't you, and come and see a fellow. I'm stopping at the 'Ring o' Bells, in Chesholm. Good-by, Ethel.
The Englishman's proverbial love of "fair play," seemed for once forgotten. The merciful reasoning of the law, that takes every man to be innocent until he is proven guilty, was too lenient to be listened to. The brother had murdered her the sister had aided and abetted. Let them both hang that was the vox populi of Chesholm hanging was too good for them.
My master was not at home, or I would have called him instead. I think she must have been dead some minutes. She was growing cold when I found her." "William Hooper," continued the Chesholm Courier, communicatively, "was cross-examined as to the precise time of finding the body. He said it was close upon half-past eight, the half hour struck as he went up to Miss Inez's room."
The coroner departs again a jury is summoned, and the inquest is fixed to begin at noon next day in the "Mitre" tavern at Chesholm. Lady Helena returns and goes at once to her nephew. Inez, in spite of her injunctions, has never been near him once. He sits there still, as she left him many hours ago; he has never stirred or spoken since.
No, I will go with you to the prison, if these besotted wretches persist in sending you there. But oh, there must be some mistake it is too atrocious. Sir Roger, can't you do something? Great Heaven! the idea of Inez Catheron being lodged in Chesholm jail like a common felon!" "Sir Roger can do nothing," Inez answered; "the law must take its course.
"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?" say the urbane tones of the rector of Chesholm, and the Right Honorable the Earl of Wroatmore comes forward on two rickety old legs and gives her. "If any one here present knows any just cause or impediment why this man should not be married to this woman, I charge him," etc., but no one knows. The solemn words go on.
A train left Chester for London at eight o'clock, A. M. Neither Lady Helena nor any of her household was stirring at that hour. She could walk to Chesholm in the early morning, get a fly there and drive to the Chester station in time. By four in the afternoon she would be in London. No thought of returning home ever recurred to her. Home! What home had she?
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