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

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8335, 18 January 1907, Page 2

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

CHAPTER XlL—Continued. "I—l believe the Reverend Mr Ingram lodges here," she said. "I am Lady Lavenden. Will you please ask if I can see him?" Tilda wiped her handsoorn r her apron. "This is Mr Ingram's lodgings, right enough, my lady," she answered; "but he's out. It's nigh his lunch-time, though, and if you would go round to the front door you x might go up into his sitting-room and wait." "Why should I go round?" objected Julia, rallying her woman's wit. "Let me come in and talk to you till he gets back." Matilda Crimple stared and laughed. "I don't mind, my lady," she said, ard led the way into the large, old-fashioned kitchen of the house. Julia Lavenden followed the odd, slouching form of the girl. She paused, putting a gloved hand to her side. On the rug before the fire sat a small, curly-headed figure, playing with a broken wooden horse. Julia sprang toward it." "Oh what a dear little boy,!" she cried, and caught up the child. Instinct, wiser than all other wisdom, told her that it was her own. The child startled, dropped his plaything, and looked at the pale, sweet visage and rich garments of the stranger. The sight of the innocent, childish face and ruffled golden head struck a pang to Julia's heart. "Will you will you give me a kiss, dear?" she asked unsteadily. The child put his arms about her, and the soft lips touched her cheek. Julia bowed her head, fighting for the selfcontrol that the touch of the little body on her breast was threatening to render impossible. Matilda Crimple cried out in as--tonishment. "Why, my lady," she said, /'the kid might know you." Julia started. But Tilda, unconscious of the stab her words had inflicted, turned away at the sound of a fresh voice, "Excuse me," it observed. Another person had entered the kit-, chen —a stput, tweed-clad man with a ruddy, clean-shaven countenance. It was that of Mr Quail, the astute colleague of Inspector Quilliam. 'A moment the detective hesitated in the doorway, his round pink visage and quick, bright blue eyes, "peering through the shadows about the entrance of the large, old-fash-ioned kitchen. He had removed his stiff felt ! hat, and tucked it under his arm, the brim balanced on his hip. His likeness to a cheerful, inquisitive was increased by his attitude. At a glance he had taken in the picture which met his gaze—th§ exquisitely dressed and aristocratic figure of Julia Lavenden, so out of place among her vulgar surroundings; the roughly-clad,, goldenlocked child in her arms; the slouching girl who stood ' by. Mr Quail was conscious of a sudden interest in the little scene upon which lie had so abruptly intruded. , "Excuse me," he said again as / Tilda turned sharply toward him, "but can I have a word with " The detective stopped. Julia Lavenden had raised her head, and he saw iher face. He grasped his har in both hands, and bowed over it with an air of deep respect. The bow served to conceal the surprised expression on his plump countenance. ■'' <<! Beg pardon, my lady," he observed;' "I can wait." And he stepped back deferentially. Julia Lavenden started. Had he heard by chance in entering the phrase indicative of her rank? Matilda Crimple had just uttered it. Or did know her? She did not recognize him in the least, and yet hjs appearance vaguely alarmed her. ' "Pray do not consider me," she replied haughtily,and movedaway, laying her cheek against the soft and dimpled one of the child she carried. She was glad of the excuse to avert her face from the blandly searching glance of the newcomer. Her heart was beating quickly; she began to realize that she had been unwise in seeking so hastily a sight of the boy. * But the small hands had fastened upon the jewelled chain that clasped her furs about her throat, and she forgot all else in the passion of mother-love that surged up in her at i the touch of the baby fingers. "Why' my lady," Matilda Crimple had cried, "the kid might know you" A sob rose to Julia's lips, as she felt that some instinct had indeed drawn her child to, her. ' Could she bear to part with it? Would she not rather, proclaim it hers in the sight of the whole world. She shivered; it was not hers only—it was hers and David Garth's—David Garth, the criminal—David Garth, the convict—David Garth, the fugitive. « v The smooth, slightly husky voice of the newcomer recalled her to herself. "Thank you, my lady," he said, stepping forward. "If you would kindly permit the—the young person .He paused to produce a bulky red pocket-book and extract from it a card, somewhat larger than an ordinary visiting-card. Returning the pocket-book to its place, he delivered the card to Matilda Crimple. She inspected it coolly, and recoiled. "Oh, good gracious!" she exclaimed, "the police!" The cry fell upon Julia Lavenden's ear like a dcath-knell; her limbs ssemed as if they were failing her. Tilda caught the detective's arm; she had become oblivious, of Julia's presence. "What do you "want?" she said hysterically. "We've been doing nothing. Dad's an honest man —I'd swear it if I was to die for it. You d dn't ever prove anything against

By R. Norman Silver, tJwr of "A Double Mask," "A Daughter of Mystery, » "Held Apart," "The Golden Dinar/'," etc.

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

him, for all you went spying and prying upon him till you spoiled his business." The girl shook the unresisting detective in her wrath. "There ain't no harm in driving a cab, is there?" she demanded. "He's got to earn a living somehow. Ask Mr Ingram up-stairs —the Reverend Mr Ingram, the curate of the parish. He'll tell you what dad is, and go bail for him. Would he lodge with us if we weren't respectable, and a clergyman?" Mr Quail laid a plump red hand on that of the excited Tilda and patted it. "Keep cool, my lass," he said; "I've nothing against your dad. It's Mr Ingram I want to see, about a trifling matter of information received which doesn't affect you or yours. You give; Mr Ingram my card, and tell him I won't keep him a minute. Unless, of course, Lady Lavenden is wishful to see him, in which case I will await her ladyship's convenience," ' ' ! Tilda wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron, and laughed tearfully. "You gave me a turn, didn't you?" she remarked. "But I'm all right now. Mr Ingram is out though, and this lady is waiting to see him. Couldn't you call again?" "H'm!" rejoined the detective discontentedly; "I suppose I'd better." He looked at his watch thoughfully. "I could go and get a snack," he said; "I am a bit hungry, and I'll look round in a quarter of an hour. Sorry I startled you, my lass, but-you're none the worse." He was retreating toward the door, but Julia Lavenden set down the child, and checked him. "You seem to know me," she said nervously. "Who—who are you" The detective drew out his pocketbook, dived into a compartment, extracted a second card, and presented it with a bow. "Detective Quail," he answered, "at your service my lady I had the honour of catching a glimpse of your ladyship at Lavenden House when I called the other day to see your ladyship's cousin, Mr Merivale, touching the death of the late Mr Garside. One of the servants, my lady, told me who you were. A curious coincidence for us to meet here, my lady." ''No doubt,'' said Julia. She could scarcely steady her voice sufficiently to utter the syllables, so unnerving had been his reference to the tragedy of Grammont Mansion. Mr Quail put away his pocketbook. "We of the force, my lady," he added, "do enough business in these parts to know what need there is for kind-hearted ladies like yourself to come into the district. It's a shame, it is so, my lady, but of the kids hereabouts can hardly help growing up jailbirds, even those that begin as pretty and innocent as that." He pointed to the golden head of the child at her side. Julia winced; the stab he had unsconsciously dealt her was a cruel one. The detective buttoned his coat. "Well," he said, "it's a cruel world for some of us, my lady, and I could wish at times I'd no feelings. Good day to you my lady." Julia Lavenden acknowledged the salutation silently, and Mr Quail, backing out of the kitchen, slipped through the flagged area beyond, crossed the stable-yard, and passed out into the open street, and guessed that the blazon on the glossy panel was the Lavenden crest. "One of the right sort, that Lady' Lavenden," he muttered, as he surveyed it; "there's not many ,in Park Lane would drive out here to call on a slum parson and play with the,'landlord's kid .in "the kitchen till he turned up. Hello!" Mr Quail had just noticed that on the step of the house door adjoining the stable entrance stood a tall but stooping figure in the clerical garb. The latter was inserting a latch-key into his lock. "My man!" said the detective, under his breath, and he went up to the curate. "Mr (Ingram, I believe, sir," he said, aloud. The Reverend Charles Ingram shook off his usual air of reverie, and glanced inquiringly at the person who had accosted him. "That is my name," he replied. Mr Quail produced another of his cards. "Quail, sir," he said briefly—"detective. I am referred to you for some information. A minute's business only, if I may trouble you, sir." Charles Ingram withdrew his key from the lock. "I am at your service," he responded; "not that, having regard to the nature of my work, I am anxious to give gentlemen of your profession any more information than is absolutely necessary. It neutralizes my work with my parishioners." (To be Continued).