For Her Sister's Sake; OR, THE LAVENDEN SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8333, 16 January 1907, Page 2

For Her Sister's Sake; OR, THE LAVENDEN SECRET.

"For Her Sister's Sake " was commenced on December 20th.]

CHAPTER X.—Continued. Winnie's bosom heaved. "It is impossible," she murmured—"impossible!" Agnew rode on silently a few moments. "Very well," he said; "you have the right to command me. You ask me to forget you. I will try. I will give up my profession/ resign my seat in Parliament, and go abroad. Perhaps I may find forgetfulness." A spasm of misery shook Winifred Lavenden. "Then I shall have ruined your career," she exclaimed. "My career!" repeated Agnew. "What is that? The struggle for a title or a decoration, or a term of political power. What is the loss of fiese, and such as these compared with the loss of the woman one loves? To have her image always in one's heart and nothingness in one's arms; to say to oneself over and over again, * Other men woo and* win the woman they love. Edward Agnew failed. He must not hear her voice, or know her thoughts, he must live alone for the rest of his days—beaten, embittered, defeated.' " Winifred Lavenden sobbed. Her lover had turned at bay and was fighting as men will fight in their despair, with weapons that pierce to the quick. "You are very cruel," she moaned. '"I—I told you it was fate that had parted us. Three days ago I should have been proud to become your wife. 'Now I cannot." ; "Three days ago!" ejaculated Edward Agnew, amazed. Winnie shivered. "Oh! why should you torture me tilLI speak?" she cried. "I will, I wiube silent." She paused, struggling with her grief. Agnew knitted his brows. Then he looked at the.drooping figure beside him, and his heart softened, even in the midst of his own bitterness. "Winnie" he said, "I don't understand ; you will not let me understand. But I swear to you that you are wrong, that nothing need or shall part us. But at least I will be your friend, your brother, till I can hope to be something else." "I —I must not," murmured Winnie. "It is wronging you, wickedly, cruelly „ wronging you. There is no hope. How dare I let you think there is?" Edward Agnew's face set.' "Then I am to leave England" he .said, "abandon my career and my profession, and endeavour to forget the woman who told me she loved me, and proved it by denying me both love and friendship." Winnie put a gloved hand to her side—her own face was white and her eyes closed. "I—l can't bear any more," she said faintly; "but if you will be my friend—my—brother, I will try to think—to think I have done the best for you and your future." Agnew bent his head; his own lip was trembling. "Thank you," he answeredj 1 "I will try to deserve your confidence. Forgive me if I have seemed unkind. You would not blame me if you could see in to my heart." Winifred Lavenden drew rein. "If—if you could look into mine," she said, brokenly, "you would pity me. Please take me home." CHAPTER XL THE DETECTIVES AGAIN. The young lawyer turned his horse. He had escaped defeat, but he knew that he had not won a victory. Silently the two rode out of the park. At the doors of Lavenden House he helped "Winnie to dismount. A few moments later, as Agnew was leading his horse toward the road, he saw Winnie seated on the wall, and he exchanged a few commonplace remarks with her. After the last farewell, as the doors closed behind her, Winnie paused in the wide, warm hall. She had been defeated, and she knew it. And in her heart of hearts she was fighting against a wild, rebellious hope—a hope that was no hope, but only the phantom of a hope. Did any man live who could know the full depth of the tragedy which had shadowed her life, and yet desire to link it to his own? And if Edward Agnew were that man, dare she—ought sheShe put the sweet, mad thought from her and went up the stately staircase toward her own room. On the first of the broad landing she stayed again. George Merivale was descending the upper flight of stairs. Seeing her, he hastened to her with an instant affectation of bluff sympathy, that showed him to be a shrewd, as well as an accomplished' actor. , In a flash his heavy, selfish features took, on an air of genuine solicitude, and he extended a thick, strong hand. "Hello! Cousin Winnie," he exclaimed: "Been for a breather? Excellent idea. You' look better this morning." He clasped her gloved fingers vwarmly "Very sorry I was such a thoughtless fool yesterday," he said. "If I'd reflected a minute, of course I should'nt have blurted out the news about poor Garside like that. No wonder it bowled jTou over. It's a bit trying to dine with a fellow one night, and in the morning hear he's dead." Winnie assented mechanically. Merivale lingered. It was the first opportunity he had had to commence the campaign he had promised Cdnstance Istria to undertake and upon whose issue depended, for him a wife and fifty thousand pounds. "I say, you know" he remarked, plucking at his jewelled cuff-links, "to choose a less melancholy subject,

By R. Norman Silver, thor of "A Double Mas7e," "A Daughter of Mystery," "Held Apart," "The Golden Diuarf," etc.

aren't you going to let me take you for a spin or two in the automobile? I'm a careful driver, and it would be just the thing for you. You've teen looking confoundly bored lately. What you want is bracing up, and automobiling is a' wonderful tonic. Sort of champagne effect, intoxication of speed, and all that kind of business. There's only room for two in the machine, but, hang it! we're cousins." Winifred Lavenden hesitated. Though she vaguely disliked and distrusted George Merivale, his words sounded fbiendly and well meant. "I really must, some v day," she said, and moved to pass on. "Is that a bargain?" he persistently asked. '" I suppose so," admitted Winnie; she was anxious to escape from him. "Good!" he replied. "Then I shall venture to claim its fulfilment." . He stepped back and watched her glide along the corridor toward her own room. His florid features expanded into a self-satisfied, unpleasant smile, and he settled the horsey pin in his ample tie. "G.M.," he muttered to himself, "the attack on the fortress has begun. Well, by Jove! I'm not sorry; she's prettier than I thought. Dickens take her big gray eyes, they make me feel I'd like to own her, apart from Constance's bride. We shall see what a little tete-a-tete in my Panhard will do." He chuckled t and strode on downstairs. A footman opened the hall doors for him, and he lounged out. A person mounting the steps drew aside ' hastily—George Merivale had well-nigh landed upon the broad waistcoat of Mr Quail, the plump and ruddy colleague of Inspector Quilliam. - The detective was alone, and in his close, subtsantial tweed garments, had the air of a thriving farmer or country horse-dealer. He touched his hat respectfully. "The very gentleman I came to see, sir,." he said. "May I trouble you for a few moments?" Merivale surveyed him irritably; then, yielding to the detective's attitude of expectancy, motioned back to the still open door of Lavenden House. Mr Quail passed within. Merivale strolled through the hall to the library, and, allowing the detective to enter that apartment, followed him in. "Well," he observed, "and what is it this time, Mr " "Quail, sir," replied the detective, deferentially, smoothing his bald forehead with a hollowed palm. Ceasing this, he took his chin thoughtfully between a thumb and finger. "The—the late Mr Garside, sir," he said. "May I make so bold as to ask if—if he won much money off you during your acquaintanceship?" The detective met the other's haughty look with a shrug of his shoulders. "No offence meant, sir," he pu& sued; "but I may say that, going through the property of the deceased, we found these." • He extended from a capacious pocket a couple of packs of cards, and drew one out with the backs up. Another plunge into a second pocket produced a mangifying tens in a nickel frame. "A little friend of mine, sir," he said; " I usually have him with me.. Look, sir." ■[ -Mr Quail was indicating a dumpy cherub in the design of the backing. It was shaded with close, fine penstrokes ; the position '.of the shading varied in different cards. Sometimes it "was upon an arm, sometimes upon a shoulder, a fist, a leg, or the right or left half the face. "A key to the suit and value of the cards, sir," explained the 'detective; "it can be read like a book." He chose a card at random. "This is the five of hearts," he said. He turned it up, and it was. Mr Quail dived 'again' into a pocket, and got out a ring—a ring with a 'small, short spike on the I part r of the gold band that would I be toward the wearer's palm. "For marking cards impromptu," he added, "when one isn't playing' with one's own. A slight prick on the front of the card makes a prominence on the back that can be easily felt when dealing. These are what the crooks call advantage goods, sir, and we found a pretty selection in Mr Garside's flat. That was why I asked you if he .won; much money from you." "The dickens!" exclaimed Merivale. "I suppose three or four hundred, one way and another. He was lucky. I don't suppose I won more than a hundred from him." Mr Quail smiled grimly. "A nice balance in his favour," he said. "Thank you, sir; that was all I wanted to know." (To be Continued).