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

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8353, 9 February 1907, Page 2

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

CHAPTER XXVII. CHECK AND COUNTER-CHECK. "Tilda!" It was a hoarse, husky voice, the voice of Peter Crimple, raised that it might carry, yet softened that it might not be too loud. The cabman stood in the dark hallway of the house at the foot of the stairs. He repeated his call cautiously : "Tilda, my lass!" i A door opened on the landing above and Matilda Crimple stepped to the balustrade. r •' "Is that you, dad?" she asked. Peter Crimple answered in the affirmative. "Come down a minute," he said; "I want you." His daughter obeyed. / "I'd only just gotßoysie asleep," she obsei'ved. The cabman did not pay to her explanation the attention which he usually gave any reference to his childish favourite. Instead, he crew her into a room on the ground floor, a small parlor overlooking the* street. It was in darkness. Tilda felt herself drawn toward the bay window of the apartment. Her father approached it circumspectly and peered through the laths of the Venetian blinds. ' "Can you see anyone by the yard gates?" he queried softly. Tilda gazed in the indicated direction. Almost lost in the gloom of the quiet roadway she dimly perceived a masculine fotm. . • ' dad," she said, "what is it? Not the police!" "Looks like a sleuth, don't it?" growled the cabman. "I spotted him when I drove in just now." Matilda Crimple clung to her father's arm. "Dad," she whispered, "that last lot of stones; perhaps they've traced some of them to you." "Not likely," retorted Peter Crimple, "seeing I haven't parted | with any of them yet. No; I was j wondering if—if they had got on her j track." I

He spoke with nervous hesitation and Tilda shivered. "Dad, dear/" she murmured, "how awful, and her a lady born! What —what has she done?" Peter Crimple flung off the hand that lay on his arm. "Stop it, Tilda," he bade her sternly; "them's questions I've told you not to ask. Is the parson in?" "No," said his daughter, "out."; She bent to peep more keenly through the blinds. ' "Dad," she whispered, , "whoever he was, he's gone." The cab-driver made a .hasty scrutiny. The street was, in fact, apparently deserted. Peter „ Crimple uttered an exclamation and stepped out of the room. Tilda followed, him. Her father Strode into the kitchen, passed through it into the flagged entrance beyond, and pulled open the door that 'ed into the yard. Some one stood outside—a square,' masculine figure Tilda shrank back, but her father stared straight before him. "Cab, , sir" he said. The person addressed advanced into the passage. "No," was his answer; "I don't , want a cab, my good fellow. I have N a message to deliver—a message to Miss Winifred Lavenden. My name is Agnew." Peter Crimple's weather-beaten . countenance did not change its stolid expression. "There's no one of the'name of Lavenden in this house,'" he said harshly. The other shrugged his shoulders. "That's all right, my man," he replied, "you needn't waste time in precautions. I'm 'in the knotf-. I've a message to Miss Lavenden from her sister, Lady Lavenden, who called here to-day." The cab-driver turned to his daughter. Tilda's eye met his, and she bent her head in an almost imperceptible assent. Peter Crimple fingered < his unshaven jchin. "There's no saying who may or may not have called here," he retorted; "we have a lot of chance customers whose names we don't know. However, you can come in, and Til see if there's been any word of a Lavenden." He made room in the narrow passage for the visitor to get by. The latter entered, smiling. "You want to make certain of your ground," he said. "Well, as you please. Miss Lavenden will see me when she knows I am here. Of that you may be sure." His sentence was punctuated by the bang of the door. Peter Crimple had kicked that leading into the yard, so that it swung to. The visitor turned sharply, to find himself looking into the barrel of a revolver, over which Peter Crimple regarded him sternly. ( "Tilda," instructed the cab-driver, '"bring me something that will blindfold this gentleman." The newcomer laughed again. "How melodramatic!" he observed. "Not that I have any objection." Matilda Crimple went into the kitchen, and brought out a large, thickly folded handerchief. Directed by her father, she bound it thoroughly overi the visitor's eyes, effectively depriving him of sight. The cab-driver took the opportunity to whisper to her. "Let Miss L. have a look at him," he said. Tilda nodded and darted-off. Peter Crimple marched his captive into the kitchen. "Take it cool!" he remarked, "and no harm will happen to you. Jump about, -or shout, or play any tricks, and I shall have to give you a pil! that will put you to sleep fqr good and all. " And he pressed the muzzle of the revolver against the prisoner's forehead. For a few moments they stood thus and then Peter Crimple heard the rapid, shuffling footfall of his%daughter. Another and lighter step sounded

By R. Norman Silver, thor of "A Double Mask," "d. Daughter, of Mystery, "Held Apart,': "The Golden Duiarf," etc.

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

with it, reluctant, hesitating. The cab-driver put his lips to the captive's ear. "Move an inch till I tell you!" he said, "and you area dead man!" • After which warning he withdrew the cold muzzle of the revolver from the temple of the blindfolded man, and crossed to the kitchen doorway. Winifred Lavenden and his daughter were approaching it. At the sight of the weapon which the cabdriver bore Winnie recoiled. Peter Crimple made a reassuring gesture and stepped closer, still keeping a vigilant eye on the interior of the kitchen. "Miss Lavenden knows a Mr Agnew, dad," said Tilda eagerly. Peter Crimple's glance consulted that of Winifred Lavenden. "Can we trust him?" he whispered. Winnie flushed deeply, a flush that dyed her face from brow to chin. "Yes," she answered simply. Peter Crimple had noted the blush; he put away the revolver. "That's lucky," he commented; "but I wanted to be on the safe side." So saying he moved clear of the doorway. Winifred Lavenden stepped forward, saw the blindfolded figure in the lamplit kitchen, and staggered back. J' It was not Edward Agnew that she had seen, but George Merivale. CHAPTER-XXVIII. MERIVALE PLAYS HIS GAME. The cab-driver grasped Winnie's wrist. "What's wrong?'' he hissed under his breath. "Quick! what's wrong?" Winnie leaned weakly against her rough protector. "It —it isn't he!" she faltered; "it's some one else—some one who is not my friend, and who—who suspects everything." Peter Crimple set his teeth. "Pull yourself together,-' he said; "I'll deal with him. But not in there. Somebody might disturb us." Winnie sickened with horror and alarm. The cab-driver's words terrified her. But he gave her so sudden and powerful an impulse that she found herself in the kitchen before she could reply. ; "Miss LaVenden is here," he said, "Which means;that we know you, and know your name is not Agnew. So we haVe got to have a little talk, and, as we can't talk here, and we don't mean that you should see too much, we will leave you blindfolded for a minute. But Miss Lavenden herself will be your guide. - Hold out your hand." George Merivale obeyed, his lips curling with a disdainful smile. Whatever else he might be he was no' coward. Mastered by a glance from the cabdriver, Winnie forced herself to touch the fingers of the blindfolded man. They clasped her own with a meaning pressure. Peter Crimple put the lamp into her free hand and went out into the flagged passage that gave access to the yard-door, and they heard the faint movement of shooting bolts. Then the cab-driver stalked out into the passage, motioning to Winnie to follow her charge. Her head swimming, her nerves tense with a frightful uncertainty, Winifred Lavenden led George Merivale forward. And step by step the cab-driver preceded them, covering with his revolver the blindfolded head, so clearly visible in the light of the lamp. - » Peter Crimple put his left hand behind him as he spoke, and, still maintaining at its threatening level the revolver in his right, turned the knob of the door against which he had backed. It swung open and he re - treated into the apartment. Winnie entered, carrying treihulously the lamp which be had given her, and leading her!<blindfolded yet apparently unconcerned captive. The room they had gained was large, and scantily furnished as a sleeping-apartment. The odor of rank tobacco that hung about it betrayed it to be the driver's own. Matilda Crimple had ascended the stairs behind them, and would have entered also, but her father forbade her with a look, and, closing the door, shut her out of the room. * Still keeping a vigilant watch upon his prisoner, Peter Crimple strode to a window, and closed the oldfashioned shutters. Re-crossing the floor he took the lamp from Winnie's grasp, and set it upon the mantel, so that it continuefl to cast its rays directly upon the face of George Merivale. Then poising his weapon conveniently, he considered a : moment. Winnie shuddered and stepped be-, tween the relentless steel muzzle and its human target. George Merivale was her enemy, but she could not see him murdered. ' v (To be Continued.)