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

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8337, 21 January 1907, Page 2

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

CHA FTER Xlll.—Continued. The chains of silence were about Julia Lavenden, too; she covered her face and wept —wept bitterly, convulsively, as the brougham drove homeward through the pleasant, bustling street in the spring-like weather. Reaching Lavenden House, she got out of the brougham and, her veil down, went directly into the great drawing room that overlooked Park Lane. The glazed balcony thaft ran along one side of it was a favourite resort of her sister. Julia passed along it. In a cushioned corner, a book unopened on her knee, her hands .11ped on her lap, sat Winifred Lavenden. Her gray eyes were bent upon the railed expanse of the park, but so still she Isat that she might have been a statue. With a low cry, Julia flung herself at her sister's feet, all the tempestuous emotions of the last two hours breaking forth in a fit of convulsive weeping. ■ * "Winnie, dear," she sobbed; "Winnie dear, I have seen him. He is as beautiful as an angel!" Winifred Lavenden emerged from her trance, and looked down upon the fair head that had buried itself in her lap. ' "Seen whom, dear?" she asked. Julia clung to her, and whispered: '.'My boy, Winnie," she said; "my little boy. David wrote, and I have been to the place." • Winnie started up. She had become so white that her young face was as blanched as the alabaster to which Constance Istria had sneeringly compared it. "But—but I was very cautious, dear," added her sister eagerly. "David wrote to me what I had to do. They did not dream of the truth, the paople I saw. How could they?" Breathing heavily. Winnie sank down again and drew the elder woman to her. "Tell me about it, dear," she said. And Julia told her, her own head pillowed upon her sister's bosom, leaning as she had always done, upon the strength and courage of the younger. But in that brave bosom Winnie's heart seemed dead, frozen by the haunting presence of the awful secret, which had cut her off from love and happiness, the secret which, unlike Julia's, could not be shared with any living soul. CHAPTER XIV. MERIVALE PLAYS THE GAME. "You can take my automobile things down, and—oh, yes—telephone to the garage to hav3 the windscreen put on the car." The valet settled about his master's shoulders the large, full-skirted morning coat that was George Merivale's garment. The latter was completing an after-breakfast toilet, a toilet even more carefully made than usual. In spite of the lines about his somewhat bilious eyes and the slight puffiness of his cheeks, he seemed almost youthfully dandified. "Yes, sir," answered his attendant —"and the baroness N sir? Her maid has just been up to say that her ladyship would be glad to see you before ,you go out." , ■ '. "Very well," remarked Merivale; "wait a minute." And he sat down at a little writing-table and began to compose a note. He wrote it slowly, forming his characters heavily and distinctly. - "Dear Cousin Winnie: I venture to claim your promise to have a ride in the automobile. I ask you at short notice, as the weather is exceptionally nice. You needn't be afraid of the wind; I have had the screen put on." He signed it "Gl M.," slipped it into an envelope, and, handed it to his valet. , "Let that be given to Miss Lavenden,". he said. The man took it, and held open the door of the room for him to pass out. He did. so! loungingly. ' Descending to a lower floor of < Lavenden House, he tapped at a door. His fingers beat an impatient, peculiar tattoo upon a panel, and his sister's voice bade him come in. He acted "on the invitation. Constance Istria was sipping chocolate in a wonderful boudoirgown, all lace and pale sea-green : . She looked as she lay on a long and cushioned couch with the morning sunshine kissing her loosely coiled, red-gold hair like a half-civilized mermaid. "That's a good brother," she exclaimed scoffingly; "how prompt to act upon his dear' sister's slightest wish!" She pointed toward the silver tray that stood by her; there was a gleaming chocolate-pot upon it, and another tiny porcelain cup. "Have some chocolate?" she suggested. Merivale sat down. "No thanks," she said; "I have barely breakfasted. And what does my dear and adorable sister want to see her scape-grace brother about?" Constance Istria put aside her cup with her white hand She had exquisite hands, their only blemish the rather too pink nails, that are said to indicate a passionate and revengeful disposition. "A report," she answered, "from my spy—my spy in the Lavenden camp. I was right —there is something to be found out about those Lavendens." Her brother had taken up a silver chocolate-spoon, and was spinning it on his finger-tip. His face woi-e a sly, yet stolid, expression. "You surprise me," he observed. Constance Istria glanced at him irritably. "Don't fidget," stie retorted, "but

By R. Herman Silver, Ihcr of "A Double Mask," "A Daughter of Mystery, " "Held Apart," "The Golden Dwarf," etc.

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

listen. Cecile tells me that recently, on the night of the little dinner-party last week, Julia had a visitor, who turned up here at some unconscionable hour; said she had come frum Devonshire, and demanded to see Lady Lavenden. This visitor was a hospital nurse, a creature in one of those familiar uniforms—blue and gray, I think Cecile said." George Merivale stopped spinning the spoon, From beneath the stolid indifference that seemed to veil his countenance there had peeped out a keen and unmistakable interest. "Julia," went on his sister, "said she would see her, and sent away Cecile, who showed the woman up. But before she got out of the room, for the girl, you may be sure, had the sense to linger, she heard the nurse say, 'I bring a message from the dead.' When Julia rang as?ain, it was to have the woman escorted out. Cecile evidently did try to pump the creature on the way down, but without success." Merivale began to spin the spoon again. "H'm!" he remarked, "and what deductions do you draw from all this?" Constance Istria frowned. "I'm not a mind-reader," she rejoined. "How should I know what it means? But I know that those girls have a secret, and, if you don't want to go on sponging on me for money during the rest of your life, you will find out what the secret is, and see if you can't use it to bring Winifred Lavenden to your feet." Her brother put down the spoon, and got up. "Thanks," he said, with a certain hypocritical self-possession; "I will do my best. But you will admit that you haven't given me much to go upon." He paused, studying her. "Constance," he asked, "do you ever, by any chance, read the papers?" His sister yawned. "Why on earth should I?" she inquired. "There are quite enough other ways of getting a headache." Merivale nodded, thoughtfully. "Just so," he said; "I was only wondering." He glanced at the small French clock on the mantel of the boudoir. "I'm afraid I shall have to be off," he added; "I'm going to take Winnie out in the automobile."; Constance Istria smiled—a slow, cruel smile. "So the attack on the fortress has begun," she remarked; "but I assure you beforehand that you won't put Edward Agnew's nose out of joint merely by yourpowersof fascination. You must find out the Lavenden secret." "Everything must have a beginning," said her brother, "and, whether you are playing the game of love solely for love, or for money, you must play the game." And he strolled out of the boudoir. In the corridor his face gained a new and acute expression. "By Jingo!" he muttered, "a nurse in gray and blue, the night of the little dinner-party. If—if Constance only knew what I know! If —if those meddling detectives only knew what Constance and I know!" He reflected a moment. "Yes," he said, "and if I only knew all that I should like to! Well, never mind, it is plain that I have got hold of the lever Constance talked about. But whether it will bring Winnie to my feet and earn me my dear sister's fifty thousand pounds remains to be seen." George Merivale puckered up his large, selfish mouth. , "H'm!" he observed, as he went down the corridor; "would I marry Winifred Lavenden if she—if she were-^ —" He shook his head. "Oh! absurd," he told himself; "she hasn't got it in her—she whom Constance calls Miss Innocent. No; _she may know all about it, but that's'no great crime. And —andiif it were- " He shrugged his shoulders. "Once let me get Constance's fifty thousand," he murmured, and stop- ; ped—Winnie herself had just turned a corner of the long passage, pale, slender and drooping, like some delicate flower that has been plucked and left without water. Merivale hastened to meet her. "Sorry to give you such short notice," he said, "but you will come, won't you?" , "I. —I don't feel very like it this morning," answered Winifred Lavenden, trying to speak lightly; "I was looking for you to say how sorry I was you should have taken any trouble with the automobile." "No trouble at all," she was assured; "but why not a run round the park? Don't be too obdurate, there's a good cousin," he pursued laughingly; "you look as if you wanted shaking up, and no mistake.!' Winnie yielded. "I will go and put on my, hat," she said, turning back. (To be Continued).