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

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8346, 31 January 1907, Page 2

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

By R. Norman Silver, thor o/Z"A Double Mask," "A Daughter of Mystery," "Held Apart," "The Golden Duiarf," etc.

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

CHAPTER XX.—Continued. \ Merivale was peering covertly into the gallery again. Winifred Lavenden's bowed head was no longer visible. Either it had dropped lower or she had changed her position. "Don't mention it," said Merivale; *'l am afraid I have told you nothing new." "We did not expect that," sir," was the answer, "only Inspector Quilliam wished to be sure of the ex- " act times of Mr Garside's visitsJiere. Good night, sir." "Good night," said Merivale. The two detectives took their departure without waiting for him to ring, that they might be shown out. On the nuing oi the wide staircase that 1;d to the hall they paused and the inspector leaned toward his colleague. "Well?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. Mr Quail's blue eyes met those of his superior. "He's playing double somewhere," said the younger detective, in the same fashion. "DidJJyou, note that the word 'blackmail' made him jump? Whether he knows the secret of the job or. not, Garside and blackmail was no new combination to him. I'll bet he was thinking of her ladyship's hushed-up marriage. But it's hardly sate to talk here, sir, is it? "Right you are," agreed the inspector, and the two men descended the stairs in silence. Scarcely had they passed out of Lavenden House when a figure darted across the deserted hall, a figure in a trailing dipner-gown of black. It was Winifred Lavenden. On her arm she carried something—a long, dark, walking-coat that served to conceal a plainly trimmed hat. A moment more, and she vanished into the library. . ' In its unlighted interior she paused to put on the coat, and pin the hat in place. She had two hat pins, and used one to fasten up her long gown. Her heart was beating wildly. Mr Quail's words rang in her ears—they were the last words she had stayed to hear, "Garside tried to blackmail her, or someone connected with her and she—she killed him!" The situation had suddenly become impossible. By what means the detective had fathomed the fact that James Garside was a blackmailer she could not tell, but that they had fathomed it, and fathomed the fact that it had brought about his death, seemed to have brought these sleuthhounds of the law to her very heels. And it was to Merivale, her worse than enemy, and the holder in part of her terrible secret, that they were laying bare the result of their investigations. In his present mood, it was hardly probable that Merivale would betray her. But the thought of the caresses that he had forced upon her, the j thought that he had it in his power to compel her to choose between the fate that the law held over her and that equally hideous life, a loveless and repulsive marriage, drove her to desperation. Brave as was Winifred Lavenden the terror of the legal doom she had incurred struck her with an icy horror. Yet she felt that she would prefer it to the other alternative. For she was Edward Agnew's, and no other's in the wide world. His embrace had enfolded her, his lips had "pressed hers, he had sworn to her in th'e stern tenderness of a man's most inviolate., pledge, ."Till death us do part." He had wedded her to himself with those words, and she would never be faithless to him. All this had passed through her mind with the rapidity of profound, almost unconscious, thought, and, springing from her seat in the gallery, she had darted to her room, snatched up the simplest garments she had by her, and hastened to reach the only avenue by which she might hope to make her escape from the great house unobserved. Swiftly she glided to the long French windows of the library, slipped behind the curtains, undid the fastenings, and stole out. As she closed the window it creaked slightly, . and she drew it "to her more stealthily. She had not quite closed it when a light sprang up within, and she stopped, dizzied "by alarm and uncertainty. Then she heard the sound of fireirons, and knew that a footman was replenishing the grate with coal. She waited until he should have withdrawn. While she waited, she heard another sound, the sound of a human voice. And it was the voice of George Merivale, muttering her own name. "Have -you seen Miss Lavenden, "Raikes?" he asked. Winnie'could tell that he had paused some distance away, and on the thre'shold of the apartment; the arch of the lofty hall beyond made his tones sound ringing and hollow. "No, sir," was the answer. Merivale's response was a dissatisfied murmur, "and she heard his voice no more. Soon the light vanished, and she guessed that the footman, his duty done, had left the apartment. She closed the window iirmly, stole, across the little courtyard, to the low door in Park Lane, and crept out, as she had done on the niomentous night when fate had led her to James Garside'&.flat. # ■ > She did not walk aimlessly, but, threading her way watchfully through the environs of Mayfair, reached Oxford Street, and, still keeping' to the- darker byways, made for the neighbourhood of Euston Road. Arrived there, she ascended the long slope of PentonvHlo Hill, and passed into Clerkenwc-11 East. As she had walked, it was late when £she reached her destination —an irregular stucco-fronted house, in a quiet, old-fashioned street, a house with a .'/stable-yard attached.

Flying from the terror of the law, Winifred Lavenden had turned, in her extremity, to the rough, but loyal, protector whom David Garth has chosen for his child. The threshold to which her weary feet had brought her was Peter Crimple's. CHAPTER XXI. A STRANGE HAVEN. "Mr—MrCnmple!" The words had reached Peter Crimple's ear as he laid a hand on the door that led from his .stableyard to the interior of the house which adjoined it. They were uttered in a tremulous whisper, and seemed to come from the most shadowy corner of the same small yard. The cab-driver paused, and held up the lantern, by whose light he had been stabling his horse. Its rays showed him a woman's figure, slight and graceful, yet drooping as if with misery or fatigue. While he looked at her doubtfully, she came forward, so that the glow of the lantern illuminated her face. Peter Crimple started. The woman was Winifred Lavenden. "Mr Crimple," she said, and he saw that she was deathly pale and that her interlaced fingers were twitching convulsively, "I —I want you:' to .help me.—l believe you will. You—you helped David Garth, and you have been kind to Boysie" Peter Crimple ' knitted his brows. Winnie swayed unsteadily as she stood by him. "I—l can't ask anyone else," she faltered. "I—l only came to you because I know you wouldn't give me up to the police." Crimple pushed his hat off his forehead and stared at her. "You!" he exclaimed. "The police —the—they can't want you, my lass; it's a mistake. You let me harness up again and run you back home to her ladyship. «»—-»-—• Winnie recoiled. "No, no!", she said; "not that. There were detectives in the house when I slipped away. If they have not found out yet that I have gone, they soon will!" The cab-driver fidgeted with; the ring of his lantern. "What—what is it, my lass?" he asked awkwardly. Winifred Lavenden put her hand on to her throat.. "It—it was an accident," she said faintly; "I—l believe it was an accident. I didn't know I had done it till I came to. Only they would say why had I taken the pistol, if I didn't mean to kill him." Crimple raised his lantern, blew out the candle inside, pushed open one of his stable doors, and drew her within. Winnie could hear the grinding of a horse's jaws as the tired creature munched its supper. The cab-driver leaned over to whisper. > "Poor lass!" he said; "poor lass! But you may trust Peter Crimple; yes, you may trust Peter Crimple. He's no friend of the law's." a |rS£! Winnie reeled and leaned uponjhim heavily. She could not see his face in the dark, but she felt him pat her hand in a rough yet reassuring fashion. A moment elapsed before he spoke once more. -VIH "After all," said the cab-driver, "I'll be sworn he deserved it. The world's full of scoundrels, and the law knows how to turn a blind eye of them. They'd never get their desserts if it wasn't that at times them as they've wronged pays them with a bullet or a bit of steel. Hearten up, ' my lass, and we'll cheat the law for you yet." Winifred Lavenden sobbed. There was something in his grim consolation that hurt her intolerably. But so keen were the pent-up emotions that had led her to this strange confidant that she felt a sense of prostrating relief in being able to refer to her dreadful secret. •"•'lt—rit wasn't that I meant to hurt him," she faltered; "I —I only took the pistol to frighten him if he tried to get it away from me again —the certificate, I mean." "I see," said the cab-driver; "you wanted to get a , certificate from him.". "Yes," answered Winifred Lavenden unsteadily; "Julia's marriage certificate. He was threatening to use it to disgrace her. It was the only proof left; the other was burned in the St. Anne's fire. He said all the world should know she was a convict's wife if we didn't let him . come to Lavenden House, and especially if I didn't make myself agreeable to him. He —he always wanted me to marry him in the olden days." Crimple stood very still for an instant. "Who —who did?" he asked. Winnie passed her hand over her throbbing brows. (To be Continued).