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

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8368, 26 February 1907, Page 2

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

CHAPTER XL. THE CLOSE OF THE DAY. "Good evening, sir. Would you—would you be good enough to tell Mr Agnew that the superintendent is here and would like to see him at once?" , ' Inspector Quilliam stood on the threshold of Edward Agnew's chambers in the temple. Near' him was. Mr Quail and the two men were regarding with a certain impatience the grave, paie face of the Reveren:l Charles Ingram. The curate hesitated. "Mr Agnew," he said, "is asleep. I—l wquld rather not wake him, unless it is something of the most urgent importance." There was a sudden step on the landing, and a third figure stepped to the threshold out of the shadows that hung about: the old-fashioned stairway. Precise, authoritative, and of a military carriage, the newcomer halted, face to face with Charles ( Ingram. " "It is of the most vital importance," he declared, "and in Mr Agnew's own interest I beg you to let me see him without an instant's delay." Charles Ingram opened the dootf wide, and the three visitors entefdd. Tne curate shut the door, and r led them down a short passage into the lawyer's private room. ; On the low, flat couch lay Edward Agnew, his head upon his.: arm, breathing heavily. The curate sighed. "I made him take a sleeping -draft," he said.' "It was absolutely necessary. He had not slept for forty-eight hours. I must awaken him gently." He stooped down by the side of the couch, and touched its occupant.. "Ned," he called, softly.- "Ned, old fellow!" A groan burst from Agnew's lips, but his eyes did not open. "Not yet," he said, "not yet; it lVnot.time yet—the reprieve must come; it must, I tell you." Charles Ingram grasped his friend's hand. "Ned," he'exclaimed, "Ned, I, Ingram." .....-'•■• The sleeper thrust him off. "The reprieve!" he cried. "The reprieve! ' I tell you it will come I^' "It has come," said a cl'ehr;, ringing voice. The superintendent" of police; 'striding 1 'to 'the couch, had spoken suddenly. ■ His words penetrated the drugged consciousness of the slumbering man, and Edward Agr.ew started up,;'his eyes dilated, his limbs trembling. Dazed and unnerved, he looked about him—at the curate, at the stalwart, well-groomed fojrm of the high' police official, "at the detectives in their civilian dress. ; "What—what is the matter?" he. falteringly asked. ',' l—l have been: asleep, I suppose." | He arose unsteadily from his; couch, still heavy with the effects j of the draft he had taken. Charlesi Ingram supported him. The super-! intendent aided him to sit down. • "Mr Agnew," he said, "I have good news for you—news as good as it is strange. My officers here arrested this afternoon a man who, unaware of their presence, declared that he, and not Miss, Lavenden, murdered James Garth!'' j Edward Agnew stared ,. at them, amazed, uncomprehending.; ; The superintendent consulted his watch. "Suffice it to say, Mr Agne'w," he added, "that circumstances lent a tragic verification to the statement '—the man lies" dying in a London hospital. The hand that dealt him his death-stroke was that of David Garth, on whose track my men were at the time. David Garth, himself is dead, and if you would see the other before he, too, is dead, you must be quick. There is no time to explain further." The lawyer made an effort and rose, a wild uncertainty battling in his face with an ecstacy of delirious hope. "I—l am at your service," he j stammered. ' J "Good," said the superintendent. "We have a couple of cabs at the door. But you will want a hat, won't you." Agnew glanced about mechanically. Charles Ingram brought him the required head-covering, and at a sign -, .from the superintendent donned his own hat. Then the five men} led by Inspector Quilliam, went down to the Strand and the waiting cabs. Ct was eleven l o'clock, and a clear starlight night. The people were 1 coming out of .the theatres—a leisurely, chattering throng.

The superintendent put the curate and the lawyer into a waiting hansom, and gave an address to the driver. , The cab whirled away; it was followed by another and another. Mr Quail, finding himself an odd man, had hailed a vehicle, and brought up the rear of that which contained the inspector and the superintendent. The three cabs drove northward. The cool night air on Agnew's cheeks and brow swept away the drowsiness of the drug. But he didnot speak much to hisj companion. Each was lost in an 'effort to grasp the amazing news so hastily broken.to them. Neither could be blind to the astounding problems raised by the superintendent's brief sentences. Yet it was plain that the police official was convinced of Winifred Lavenden's innocence. But who was the murderer, and why had he killed James Garth. Above all, what had David Garth to do with his brother's slayer? And why had he, too, met with death at the same hands? gWhile they revolved these apparently insoluble riddles their cabs •stopped; .and, those in its rear puling up also, the superintendent came io the step of the leading vehicle, t" We get downherej, Mr Agnew," e said.

By R- Norman Silver, thor of "A Double Mask" ««4 Dauffhter of Mystery, "Held Apart, "The Golden Divarf," etc.

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

The lawyer leaped out, and Charles Ingram followed his example. They were at the entrance of the Royal Free Hospital. • The superintendent bade the Inspector detain the cabs, and himself strode to the entrance, bidding the lawyer and the curate accompany him. At a word the porter allowed them to pass, and the superintendent preceded his companions into the interior of the building.

: A feeling- of intolerable suspense came over Edward Agnew as he walked up the ward into which they finally penetrated. At last he was to see James Garth's'murderer, the person for whose crime Winifred Lavenden had so narrowly escaped paying the penalty. At one of the neat white beds near the top of the wardj the superintendent halted, motioning Agnew and Charles Ingram to approach. ,;, They did so, and started back incredulously. An exclamation forced itself to the curate's lips. The man before them was Peter Crimple.

CHAPTER XLL IN THE HOSPITAL. Dizzied by the astounding nature of his discovery, Charles Ingram paused, gazing at the figure in the hospital bed. Edward Agnew had stopped by the curate's side. The trial had made him familiar with Peter Crimple's heavy, sullen visage, and he had had no difficulty in recognising- the cab-driver. The same amazement that had drawn from the curate his exclamation of startled incredulity has fallen .from the lawyer. . j Peter Crimple glanced slowly from one to another of his visitors,, and then past them at the superintendent and the detectives. The ward nurse had joined the group about the wounded man's bed; with her was a young, fatigued-looking man —the house surgeon of the great hospital. He drew close to the superintendent, and whispered to him. The cab-driver's eyes rested on the young doctor, and he frowned: "What's the good of whispering?" he said hoarsely. "I'm not afraid. You can shout it, if you like. I'm dying, because I won't let them cut into me, and sew up something inside me—dying because I want to, because I mean to." His gaze travelled to the face of Charles Ingram. "It's a bit of a surprise for you i isn't it, sir?" he went on, speaking ! with difficulty. "You'd never have guessed ,it was I who killed Jim i Garth, least of all that I could let a I woman that was innocent suffer for | me without owning up."

Peter Crimple's eyelids drooped, covering his small gray pupils. "I was a rotten coward!" he said, "but I couldn't let them hang me. I ■ knew they wouldn't hang her; she was too sweet and pretty. But they would have shown me no mercy, and so I kept mum. Once or twice I tried to speak, but the thought of the rope and the long drop always shut my mouth." He shrugged his shoulders", his features contracting with pain as he did so.

"Now," he added, "they won't be able to swing me, and I don't mind telling the truth. I suppose that's what they've brought Mr Agnew round for, to hear me say I killed him. Well, I did—l, Peter Crimple, shot Jim Garth dead in his room on the night of the twenty-fifth of March —shot him with the revolver which Miss Lavenden had taken there with her." The dying man made his declaration with a sort of defiant precision, and then relapsed into his weak and feeble munnur.;|,*—fiSK^*Bt!Bi "Jim had threatened to takeJljSoysie from me," faltered Peter Crimple unsteadily. "He—he ought never to have known that Boysie was David's child. Tilda gave it away by accident." At thelmentionl of his daughter's name his lips twitched. "Poor Tilda," he said, brokenly. "A good girl, is Tilda. Have an eye on her, Mr Ingram. I could wish now she hadn't been so quick with her tongue that night. If Jim hadn't learned the child was David's he wouldn't have threatened me, and I wouldn't have followed him home. But, there, I'm not blaming Tilda." He lay a moment, fumbling with the counterpane. "I—l went after him,".he stam- \ mered, "and rang at the door. He let me in, and tried to keep me in the hall. I pushed my way into the rooin beyond, and said I'd come to have "it out." (To be Continued.)