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

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8342, 26 January 1907, Page 2

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

By R. Norman Silver, thor of "A Double Mask," "A Daughter of M ys cry, "Held Afxirt," "The Golden Dwarf," etc.

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

CHAPTER XVII.-Continued. * "Part of a marriage certificate," said his subordinate, slowly, yet excitedly. , The two men, suddenly silent, •studied the scrap of paper, Mr Quail, from force of habit, surveying it through his magnifying-glass. He put a fat finger-tip upon it, and the inspector followed the pointer. Mi» Quail was indicating one of the ruled compartments into which the - original whole had been divided. It was headed in printed lettering "Father's name." Below were two names, written in full, with Christian and surnames. The latter were "Garth" and "Lavenden." CHAPTER XVIII. THE DETECTIVES IN COUNCIL. J;The two detectives looked at each other.' Then they looked back at the torn and crumpled fragment of the marriage-certificate. Under the inspector's iron-gray brows his usually dull pupils had gained a spark of excitement. Mr Quail's cheeks Were pinker than before, and his bald, high forehead was wrinkled deeply. He emitted a long breath hissingly ■between his lips. "Phew, sir!" he exclaimed; "there's more in this case than meets the eye. You, remember, sir, you said there was." The inspector nodded slowly and solemnly. "I did, Quail," he answerced, with stiff dignity; "I did." He took the paper and read its written portions aloud deliberately. '"John. Garth, licensed victualler,'" he said; "that must have been - the name and occupation of the husband's father— he would naturally be entered first. It was the wife who was Lavenden. "'Aloysius Sinclair Lavenden, musician.' Laven-den!" He was repeating the name critically. Mr Quail rubbed his nose again 'with the rim of the magnifying-giass. "Name of Mr Merivale's cousins, sir," he■ observed. "You recollect, sir," he went on, "it was at Lavenden House we saw him after finding his letter to the deceased." Inspector Quilliam drew an end of his moustache into his mouth and chewed it reflectively. "Quail," he remarked, at length, "when I said there, was more in this case than met the eye, I knew I was right. I—l felt it." His subordinate looked quickly aside to glance through the window of the silent room into the bustling street below. > When Mr Quail turned his face toward his chief it was grsve and respectful once more, and the faint smile had vanished from his pink visage. ! "You were right, of course, sir," x he said; "you always are. I don't know if you recollect, sir, but there was a John Garth used to keep the Regent's Head in the Goswell Road." "I remember him well," answered the Inspector, turning the torn paper this Way and that, as if there was something more to be ascertained from it. "A regular betting centre the house was, and old John Garth was little' better than a bookmaker himself. He lost his license three or four years ago, and drank himself to death in about twelve months. He had two sons, David and James.** Both went wrong; they were in that bank-note case a couple of years ago. David got fifteen years, but James skipped before he got nabbed." ►< <jihe respectful expression on Mr Quail's face grew. The inspector was reeling out his impromptu biographies with singular ease and precision. "I never saw either of them," proceeded his chief, "*ut I believe David was a good-looking fellow, with a phiz like one of these London actors, I've heard they used to call him 'young Irving'at the Regent's; but he was liked, for all that, and a very bold fellow. It was him that got away from Dartmoor prison the other day; I don't know if they've nabbed him again. James was the brainy one, though; he planned tie whole of that bank-note affair—he'd get twenty years if he were only pinched dnd brought home." Mr Quail was drinking in with thirsty ears these glibly delivered particulars. Their fulness did not surprise him—he knew that at the mention of any one out of a thousand names the inspector's marvellous memory would waken to life in just such a fashion and quoLe a comprehensive paragraph from its unwritten "Criminal Who's Who." His subordinate drew nearer to him. "Then," he added, "if a son of , Garth's married a wife whose maiden name was Lavenden, was that Miss Lavenden any relation of the Lady Lavenden that is now." The inspector considered the ques-1 tion. "The Lavenden peerage case," he observed, "isn't more than six months old. If I remember rightly, which I won't be certain of, for it ■was only newspaper stuff,' and not ■what I knew myself; there were only two of ' the Lavw.jdens left—Julia, the present viscointess, and her sister, the Honorable Winifred." lie Hipped the paper with bin finger .ar.ci thuir.b. "Thin is Lhoiv (b.\\, sure enough," ho said—"Aloysiu;; Sinclair Lavenden,' musician, eh? Why, I did hear that he played the piano in city taverns, this very Regent's Head -among them. Not that tb.eyj.let that L get into the newspapers; it wouldn't |' have looked well. But I recollect! thinking at the time that I must have ,Hce;i the very ninn -an old, whitehaired, hollow-cheeked fellow, in a ■seedy frock-coat. Bushy eyebrows and ; an imperial, a bit Frenchy, for all ! .he was i\ British aristocrat. Talked '

French, too, I understand, like a native." Mr Quail's attention had obviously wandered. "Then this certificate," he exclaimed abruptly, "is the record of a marriage between one of this man's daughters, Julia or Winifred Lavenden" and one of John Garth's sons. That is to say, either James or David Garth married either Lady Lavenden or the Honorable Winifred, and it has been hushed up. But whyhad this Garside a copy of the certificate? Was he going to blackmail them? And, in that case, where is the other part of the certificate, and why was it tern?" He stopped, relapsing into thought too profound for speech. The inspector watched his pink-cheeked colleague with a kind of grudging admiration. • Presently !■&•.- Quail emerged from his absorption. "We'll have to be careful with this -case, sir," he said; "it looks asif there's going to be big folks in it. That man Merivale was he' bluffing us? And who was the nurse in the blue shawl—had she anything to do with the Lavendens, and did she kill Garside because he knew of tbisjmarriage?" The inspector laid a hand on his colleague's shoulder, patronisingly. "Not [so much theory, Quail!" he advised; "theory is all very well, but not too much of it. What we want is more facts. Now, I can put you on to a man who was old John Garth's pal. I'd go and tackle him myself, but I've crossed his path before; I nearly got him five years for receiving. His name is Crimple—Peter Crimple. Ha used to be a pawnbroker and jeweller in Islington, but he's a cab-owner now in a small way. The other business got too hot, so he turned respectable, and we didn't stand in the way of his license." Mr Quail's lips shaped themselves to whistle, but relaxed again. "Inspector," he said, "we're on the right track. It • was to this very Crimple's that I was sent to see the Reverend Mr Ingram about those nursing-sisters. He—-Mr Ingram, that is—lodges there. And who should I see there, too, but Lady Lavenden; came to call on Mr Ingram, I understood, and waiting for him. No doubt she went to see Crimple, and the other was only a blind." Inspector Quilliam felt for the end of his moustache, and chewed it, pondering. "Quail," he finally remarked, "we have got on to a big;thing, you and I. You stand by me and I'll stand by you. One of these days I shall be retiring from the force. I've earned my pension, and I only want a big success to bring me before the public eye before I go. When I do, you will step into my position." "I—l have sir,'' began Mr Quail, but his chief waved the protest aside. "Every man for himself," he said; "it's only natural. And you're sharp hand, Quail. I have taken pains with you, and I can safely say tha you are a smart officer, though a little overgiven to theory. Let me but put the rope round the neck of / Garside's murderer and take my place as the unraveller of the Grammont Mansion mystery, with, its high-life ramifications, and thrilling developments. Then the two Q's will dissolve partnership, and I step out of your path into private life. Is it a bargain?" "It is, sir," answered his subordinate, and the two men shook hands. "And, now, go and tackle Crimple," said the inspector. "He is an old fox, and as cunning as they make them. But he may be willing to put you on the trade we want, and you can't do better than try. If you run up there now, you may catch him as he comes in for his second horse. Meanwhile, I'll go round to Somez-sct House, and see if I can get on the track of a Garth-Lavenden marriage." He looked at the other significantly, and laid his finger on his lip. "Be cautious," he added; "we've nothing much to go on as yet, and we mustn't make any scandal. Remember, Lady Lavenden peeress of England, and the Honorable Winifred is the next heir to the title. Go slow, Quail; slow and sure!" Mr Quail bent his head assentingly, and the two detectives went solemnly out of the flat, leaving it to its dust, its shadows, and its gloomy associations. In Piccadilly they each mounted an omnibus, and, with a parting nod, | were borne away, the inspector on | his journey to the Strand and SomerI set House—Mr Quail headed toward ■ the north and east of central London. It was growing dusk when he reached the neighbourhood of the Islington heights. As he turned into the quiet by-street for which he was bound, a fine victoria, drawn by a high-stepping pair, rolled past him. (To be Continued.)