Morris was putting on a light coat as he came across the pavement. One
arm was in, the other out. He stopped dead; and the bright colour of his
face slowly faded, leaving a sort of ashen gray behind. His mouth
suddenly went dry, and it was only at the third attempt to speak that
words came.

"What for?" he said.

"For the murder of Godfrey Mills," said the man. "Here is the warrant. I
warn you that all you say--"

Morris, whose lithe athletic frame had gone slack for the moment,
stiffened himself up again.

"I am not going to say anything," he said. "Martin, drive to Mr.
Taynton's at once, and tell him that I am arrested."

The other two now had closed round him.

"Oh, I'm not going to bolt," he said. "Please tell me where you are going
to take me."

"Police Court in Branksome Street," said the first.

"Tell Mr. Taynton I am there," said Morris to his man.

There was a cab at the corner of the square, and in answer to an
almost imperceptible nod from one of the men, it moved up to the
house. The square was otherwise nearly empty, and Morris looked round
as the cab drew nearer. Upstairs in the house he had just left, was
his mother who was coming out to Falmer this evening to dine; above
illimitable blue stretched from horizon to horizon, behind was the
free fresh sea. Birds chirped in the bushes and lilac was in flower.
Everything had its liberty.

Then a new instinct seized him, and though a moment before he had given
his word that he was not meditating escape, liberty called to him.
Everything else was free. He rushed forward, striking right and left
with his arms, then tripped on the edge of the paving stones and fell.
He was instantly seized, and next moment was in the cab, and fetters of
steel, though he could not remember their having been placed there, were
on his wrists.

CHAPTER X

It was a fortnight later, a hot July morning, and an unusual animation
reigned in the staid and leisurely streets of Lewes. For the Assizes
opened that day, and it was known that the first case to be tried was the
murder of which all Brighton and a large part of England had been talking
so much since Morris Assheton had been committed for trial. At the
hearing in the police-court there was not very much evidence brought
forward, but there had been sufficient to make it necessary that he
should stand his trial. It was known, for instance, that he had some very
serious reason for anger and resentment against