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

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8353, 8 February 1907, Page 2

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

: CHAPTER XXV.—Continued. y\ Charles Ingram gazed after her as she passed down the old-fashioned suburban street. He was thinking of the romantic confession Agnew had made to him concerning his unavailing love for Winifred Lavenden. "I wonder," muttered the curate, "if he,has taken my advice and confided in Lady Lavenden. She started at the mention of his name. Poor creature! she spoke of being in great trouble, too. I hope it has ' , nothing to do with Agnew's affair, or —or»Miss Lavenden." He sauntered back up-stairs again to his own room, and May Anderson. Then they came down together and went out, the curate walking with long strides by the bright-eyed young figure in the nurse's uniform. Scarcely had the door closed upon them, than Matilda Crimple darted from the end of the hall, set down her little charge, and, with a quick movement, shot the catch .upon the lock of th? front door so that it could not be opened from without. This done, she sped up-stairs and entering the curate's "den," flung wide the door of the tall cupboard. Diving into its interior, she drew the concealed bolts and pushed the hidden 1 panel back. AH was dark in the secret room.

CHAPTER XXVI. IN FEAR OF THE LAW. Matilda Crimple strained her eyes into the obscurity. "Miss!" she called softly.."Miss!" There was no answer. The maiden groped in a pocket of her soiled apron, drew forth a box of matches, and struck one. Its glow illuminated the small loft, revealing the wooden beams of the open floor and the leanto roof. The rays that pierced the profound shadows of / the place fell upon the set, white features of Wini-1 free! Lavenden. j She lay on a roughly contrived, j yet not uncomfortable couch, asleep. | A huge, old-fashioned counterpane j enfolded her, and her heavy walking- . coat was thrown over that. Her hair was loose, and swept the pillow in a wealth of glossy raven tresses; her lips, slightly parted, trembled from time to. time as she sighed heavily. Her eyelids were flushed as if with weeping, but her cheeks had the cold pallor of marble. Tilda crossed cautiously the planking that formed a makesift flooring over the dusty beams and lit a candle standing on the corner of the work-bench, which completed the furniture of the loft. Then she leaned over the sleeper. I Winifred Lavenden stirred and sat up, agleam of terror in her dark eyes. "It's only me, ■ miss," said Tilda. "Mr Ingram's been in all the morning or I'd have come up before. And, oh! miss, who do you think's been here? Your sister, miss, Lady Lavenden. I wondered, perhaps, if you heard her voice through the cupboard there." Winifred Lavenden suppressed a cry. "Julia here!" she exclaimed. Matilda Crimple shook her head. 1 • "No, miss," she rejoined; "my lady's gone. Dad wasn't at home, so j I couldn't ask him what I ought to. do.' And, besides, Sister May was here when she came, and my lady told her she wanted to see Mr Ingram. So they was both up there in Mr Ingram's room, and all three of them's only just gone." Winnie sank back again, passing a hand across her forehqad. "She t must have been disappointed," pursued Tilda, "not to find dad or me alone and get a glimpse of you. I did give her the tip, though, it was all iright. 'Don't you worry,' I says to her, in a whisper; 'dad's a marvel to fool the police.' But that was all I could manage to get out, for sister came and carried her off. I was afraid you'd hear her through the cupboard and queer the whole show by popping out. It's lucky you were asleep." The other turned away her head. "Y-yes," she said; "it's^—it's lucky I was asleep." • She tried to rise from her couch, but her limbs, cramped and cold, , failed her. Tilda lent her assistance. "You can slip out and warm yourself, for awhile by Mr Ingram's /fire, miss," she observed; "he won't be back for some time, and if he does try to get in with his key, he can't, lor I've dropped the catch oh the front-door lock." , She went to the open panel and listened a moment. "There's Boysie," she declared, "climbing up-stairs like a good 'un. He mustn't see you, miss; he's getting to be such a talker." ;. Matilda Crimple stepped out through the secret exit into the sitt-ing-room beyond. "Don't you be frightenend," she added, looking round. "You'll hear me go to the front door, if Mr Ingram ' comes. And I'll take my time opening it, and cough once or twice, too." And with this last promise she disappeared. ■ [ Winifred Lavenden released herself from the wrappings of her couch and moved painfully out of her hidingplace. The bright daylight of the adjoining apartment almost blinded her, but she made her way to the fire and crouched over it. She still wore the evening gown in which she had fled from Lavenden House, and there were jewels at her throat and foosom. Thirty—six hours had passed since, i 'terrified by Merivale's threats and L . the visit of the "two Q's," she had hurried across London to fling herself Al upon the mercy of Peter Crimple. Those thirty-six hours had passed an evil dream. Sometimes she

By R. Norman Silver, thor of "A Double Mask," "A Daughter of Mystery, "Held Apart,'-* "The Golden Dwarf," etc.

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

had slept, oftener she had lost herself in brooding. Occasionally, urged by Matilda Crimple's persuasions, ; she had roused herself tojeat mechanically of the food brought to her by the little housemaid." Closely wrapped as she was, thanks to the latter's care, she had yet suffered keenly from the cold atmosphere that reigned between the rough beams and bare slates of Peter Crimple's "strong room." Now and again during the curate's absences she had crept out to warm herself. She crouched at the moment over the glowing coal, trying to think, as she had tried for those thirty-six hours that lay behind her. What was she to do? Write to Julia? She had been sorely tempted. And yet how tell her why she had fled, and from what? Winnie shrank from the question. How could she write to Julia Lavenden, to Julia Garth, that as a result of her attempt to rescue her sister from the bondage of the past Winifred Lavenden's hands were stained with the blood of James Garth? Yet Julia had been within a few yards of her. She must have come, lonely and miserable, to solace herself with a glimpse of her child. Did she, could she know that Winnie had fled from the terror of the law? Had Merivale kept his own counsel, or had the detectives failed to follow up their clues to the point at which these must betray her? How could she solve these riddles, how decide upon her next step,? .While she crouched over the fire she heard the creaking of the stairs, and Matiloa Crimple's voice calling to Boysie to remain below. A moment '■ more, and the little housekeeper entered the room. She carried a tray, with a modest meal arranged upon it. "Your dinner, miss," she said cheerfully,"when you feel like eating it." She bore the tray deftly through the secret panel, and, setting it down, snuffed the candle with a corner of her apron. ' "I've got you two beautiful novels, miss," she observed returning—-"love-tales, and with happy endings, because I looked. I can't bear tales that aren't about love and don't end happily." Tilda paused, surveying Winnie s despondent figure. "Don't you be cast down, miss," she advised.- "You put your faith in dad; he'll pull you through, all right. Why, we've had the sleuths—them's detectives, miss—over this very house, and they couldn't prove anything against dad to put the bracelets on him." She came and made up the fire, heaping upon it a lavish allowance of coal from the curate's scuttle. "Get a god'd warm, miss," she said. "Mr Ingram wouldn't grudge you the coal if he knew. Besides which, Sister May is always bullying me about not keeping his fire up. She is fond of him, is Sister May. I'll bet she wouldn't say 'No' if he popped the question to her. But she's not as pretty as you are, miss, not by a long chalk." The little housepkeeper chuckled over her own frankness. "That's a lovely dress of yours, miss," she added, . "but you'd be more comfortable in one that wasn't a party-frock, wouldn't you? I've a -, sewing-machine of my own, so I could soon run yovi up something—l did put in some time at the dressmaking, but I gave it up when Boysie came to stay with us." "I—l should be very glad," stammered Winnie, «"but I—l have no money to let you get any stuff. I came away without my purse." Tilda laughed. "Don't you worry about that," she retorted. "I'll borrow it off dad. What would you like? A brown cloth would suit you —you leave it to me ." She ran downstairs and Winnie, feeling hungry, despite herself, went back into her hiding-place. The cold air of the loft made her shiver. She drew the heavy quilt about her, and sat down near the tray that Tilda had brought. Two yellowcovered novels lay upon it; the title of one was "Till Death Us Do Part." The words struck her painfully; they were the last she had heard. from the lips of Edward Agnew. And now what a gulf had opened between her and him! A storm of weeping passed over her. When at length she regained her self-control she was weak and trembling. Inch by inch the candle burned down, hour after hour went by. Each minute seemed to Winifred Lavenden like a separate hour. She was facing the future without hope. (To be Continued).