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

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8361, 18 February 1907, Page 2

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

CHAPTER XXXlll.—Continued

He relapsed into silence, and his glance wandered to the littered table, half-covered by the bluish foolscap sheets of a bulky brief. He knew but too well what it was —the brief for the defence in "The King v. Lavenden" —and his heart sank as he thought of Edward Agnew sitting alone over those fatal pages, with their tangled skuin of mystery, and dishonour. He rose and took his friend's hands; they were dry and hot and the lawyer's pulses were throbbing feverishly. "Ned," he said, "you are very brave and resoltite, but you are not giving yourself a chance. I was going to say that I would be off and lsave yr<u to your task. But sometiling tells me that I ought not to." He pointed to the brief on the table. "Don't you know it from end to end?" he continued. "Haven't you drafted it yourself word for word? You must bfe fresh for to-morrow; a sleepless night will be your worst enemy. Let me have charge of you till you take the field to-morrow." Edward Agnew hesitated, but the curate persisted. "Put on your hat," he said, "and come for a long walk. You shall not talk, only cool your head and tire yourself out. I dare say you can give me a temporary bed if I come back here with you." The lawyer pondered, and then drew a long breath. "I believe you're right, old fellow," he answered, almost boyishly. - "It is very good of you to take so much trouble over me. But then you always were a good chum. Very well, I will obey your orders." He got a hat and coat from another room of his chambers, and the two men went out together into the cool summer night. Oat along the Strand they tramped, through Trafalgar Square, and the Haymarket, down Piccadilly, ■ and past Knightsbridge into Kensington. They spoke but seldom, and walked fast, with the swift, swinging stride of experienced athletes. From Kensington; they made a great semicircle to reach Notting Hill, and came into town again by Oxford Street and Park Lane. Central London was sinking into its fitful slumbers of the t small hours when they regained temple and they had much ado to obtain admission. The lawyer gave his friend a biscuit and a glass of claret, and would have insisted upon him occupying his own bed. But the curate was firm, and Edward Agnew surrendered. An hour or two after Charles Ingram had settled down to doze upon the couch in the lawyer's den he roused himself and tiptoed to his friend's room. Edward Agnew, tired out, lay sleeping, his head on his arm, his face peaceful. Ingram tiptoed out again. Before he lay down once more he looked out of the window. A wan light was growing'Jn the sky; it was the-dawn—the dawn of the day upon which Winifred Laverden was to be tried for her life. CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE MAN IN THE COURT GALLERY.

'' Lavenden Murder Case. What the Servants Saw." , "Aristocratic Murder Charge. Where Miss Lavenden Hid." "Lavenden Murder Trial. Scenes in Court This Morning" it was the luncheon hour in town,' and on the streets, or on their wonted corners, the newsvendors were playing their bills, wet from the press, and clamorous with the latest sensation. The papers were "snapped up on every hand, and the swift carts and swifer tbicycles of the newsvenders sped .'hither and thither with fresh supplies. The day was bright and warm, and the thoroughfares of London were thronged with the eager, bustling life of a typical noon in the metropolis. In the gray shadow of the Old Bailey the, pink, bluffc, and white sheets of the halfpenny papers, were changing hands as rapidly as elsewhere. Between the dingy swingdoors of the central criminal court the. last of a slowly moving little group . had passed out. They were those who, having been fortunate enough to obtain a place in the small public gallery for the morning session, had chosen, on the recess of the court,*to risk leaving their position in order to obtain the refreshment of food or of the open-air. Among them was a tall man, bearded, powerfully built, welldressed, and foreign-looking, who on ; emerging lingered undecidedly for a momentfabout the grim, gray doorway, and then, turning in the direction of Ludgate Hill, strode off. On Ludgate Hill he entered a famous inn, ordered some brandy, and drank it •hastily.: His- cheeks, where they showed above his black, smartly Topped beard, were drawn and pallid ; under the influence of the stimulant the colour began to come back to them. After paying for the brandy he went on, and, breasting a 'path through the busy noonday crowd, made Embankment where it is joihed by Blackfriars Bridge. Here he moderated his nervous, irritable stride, and, lighting a cigar, began to walk up and down, his head bent on his breast, his hands behind his back. For a long time he walked thus, smoking fitfully. Occasionally he paused to relight his cigar; at length he threw it way and took a fresh one. Before it was half-smoked the hour boomed across the river from Big Ben. A dozenjaellg echoed the warn*

By R. Norman Silver, Jhor of ' A Double Mask," "A Daughter of Mystery t( ''The Golden Dwarf," etc.

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

ing, and, roused by their brazen voices, the solitary walker began to retrace the route by which he had come. As he repassed into the Old Bailey Courthouse, he noticed immediately before him a thick-set masculine figure that, despite the warmth of the day, was clad in a long dark overcoat of a type widely worn by drivers of public vehicles. Quickening his pace, he drew nearer to it. It was Peter Crimple. A step brought his pursuer beside the cab-driver, and the latter perceived, him. An expression o£ alarm came into Peter Crimple's face, and he shrank back, as if his first impulse were to fly. A glance from his companion checked him, and he came closer. (To be Continued.)