THE STUDENT'S SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8455, 4 June 1907, Page 2

THE STUDENT'S SECRET.

CHAPTER X.—Continued. She approached the woodcutters, hesitating. "Well,'"miss, what can we do for you?" asked one of them, in dome surpris.?. "I am looking for work," she said; I'l have' been looking all day. I should be glad to have some of your dinner—if you will let mo pay for it." "Sit here, miss," laughed a goodnatured young man, ottering her a seat on the dry pine needles. "'Tisn't exactly a hotel table, but you're welcome. " They handed to her a thick sandwich and one of their tin cups full of smoking coffee. When she wa3 not looking, they touched their foreheads significantly. And the man who had blown the fire said to the young farmer: "Better keep an eye on her." "I thank you," said Sybil with grave courtesy, when she had eaten! She rose and took out her purse. " Put up your money,miss," said her entertainer. "You're welcome to What you've had. Seth Holmes doesn't, sell • victuals and drink. You said you were looking for work, I believe. May I ask what sort of work you want?" The blood rushed to Sybil's white cheeks. "X am willing to do anything," she said, eagerly. ''l am entirely alone in the world, and, except a few dollars in my purse, I have nothing. I shan't mind how hard the work is; I am strong. All I ask is a chance to •earn my living." The men refrained from looking at each other. But they were convinced that the young lady was an escaped lunatic. They tacitly decided that she was to be humoured and watched. ,'i think we can find a place for you down in the 'neighbourhood,'" .said Seth Holmes. "Suppose you sit ■down among the buffalo robes on the ox sled till we're ready to load up. Then we'll show you the way." "You are very kind," said Sybil, ! With her white, unsmiling face. ; How delicious the warmth and rest were among the coarse buffalo robes and blankets upon the sledge. She heard the axes ringing steadily and the winter wind among the tall pines. She nestied like a child, yielded to her drowsiness, and was soon in deep slumber. In her sleep she dreamed that she was flying down the stairs between the broad-leaved plants; she was -standing hand in hand with Max Charteris. What soft, lovely eyes he had ! Sybil dreamed that ;she was telling her father that Max Charteris would be her beau ideal if he only showed a little more resolution and energy. When she awoke the sky was piled with gray clouds, the snow was falling softly, and the men were ready to go home. Seth Holmes took his queer guest to his mother's house when they reached the settlement, and briefly •explained how ho came by her. "We'll humour her," he said; "she's perfectly harmless, and no -doubt she'll be inquired for before ,long." He was right. Sybil Grey would be inquired for before long. She tried anxiously to assist her ihostess with the evening's work, -showing a degree of ignorance of .household affairs that was fairly bewildering to the housewife, and •left no, doubt in her mind that her "help"! was "out of sorts in the •-upper story." She wa3 a good, motherly woman, .however, and permitted the young .stranger to wash the supper dishes -and chop the mince meat for breakfast. The men folks were going to the ■woods again at daylight, and, w1...n the work was done, they all prepared to retire. i It was about one o'clock when Sybil had gone to her small, neat ■chamber, which had some Bible pictures pinned against the whitewashed wall, and an abundance of soft blankets and gay. home-made comforters on the bed. Unheard by her, about this time, there came a! light tap at the kitchen door. I Seth Holmes opened it, candle in hand. The light fell upon the face of, one of the woodcutters who had work- \ ed with him during the day. | "They're after her," he gasped; "they're right behind. I ran on to let you know*" i "Out of the asylum, eh?" said Seth understanding at once when the neighbour referred to. "No—no! She's shot a man down in the city!" was the shuddering explanation. Seth Holmes staggered backward. "Great Heavens!" he ejaculated. "Not a murderess — with such a| face!" ! A group of men were silently advancing through the falling snow. They were headed by the detective who having traced Sybil to the wood road had followed that at a venture; and finding evidences that a party of men had worked there during the day, had come on to the settlement to ascertain if they had seen anyone answering the girl's description. His first inquiry was made of the man who had rushed with his startling news to Seth Holmes' door.

The detective Winans was his name—having obtained his information promptly summoned the village constable, and, as a matter of precaution, reinforced himself with several volunteers with whom to surround the house before he startled his game. After silently posting his sentries in the fast-falling snow, he stepped briskly into the house, where Seth stood waiting.

"Whore's the young lady?" the officer asked, concisely. "You don't mean to say she's killed anybody?" stammered Holmes.

By MRS W. H. PALMER.

"Looks mighty like ic. Where is she?" The detective had his suspicions that Sybil had found friends. '■This way," saifl Seth with a Stupefied air, ascending the back stairs in his stocking feet. "She doesn't look it. I don't believe she ever did it" he continued, shaking his head dubiously. Winans smiled grimly. "Those are the ones to watch—those who don't look it," he responded. He knocked lightly at the door to which Seth Holmes pointed. There was no response. "Gone by thunder!" muttered Winans, below his breath, and, waiting for no further ceremony, he burst abruptly into the room. Sybil had not heard the light knock. She was kneeling at her bed s'de. Her fair hair swept over her black dress, her hazel eyes were lifted to heaven, and her hands were clasped in prayer. The detective had seen many types of wrongdoers; he had learned to distrust fair as well as ill looking. But there was something about Sybil Grey which shook his conviction, of her guilt. Innocent or guilty, it was none of his business, however. His duty was to bring her to the bar of justice.' At the entrance of the officer, Sybil sprang to her feet Every member of the little group remarked that her face showed no surprise. "Your pardon, miss," said Winans, "but I am obliged to inquire your name?" "Sybil Grey." "Miss Grey, are you aware of the murder of Luke Jastrum, in his library, last night?" To the consternation of all, the young girl replied, calmly:

"1 am aware of it." "That will do. I have no right nor desire to put any question which may lead you to criminate yourself. I have a very disagreeable duty to perform. You are accused of the murder, and 1 have been sent to arrest you." , Sybil was so quietly dignified as to appear almost arrogant. It was the haughty composure of a young queen. ■ "Am I to go with you?" she inquired. "As soon as you are ready," answered the officer, obliged to dis, trust her in spite of his instincts. He added, as she began to aoil up her fair hair, which had escaped from its braids:

" You understand that my duty forbids me to leave you. You'll excuse j > . me

"Certainly,*" she said, with lofty grace. At the foot of the stairs the farmer's family were waiting. Seth put out his hand.

"Good-by, Miss Grey. I don't believe you did it." Sybil hesitated an instant. The little group scarcely breathed as they waited for her reply. It was a very strange reply: "I do not think I did," she said, gently. The detective offered her his arm, and she got into a waitng sleigh. CHAPTER XI. MALCOLM DRAKE'S REVENGE. Max Charteris, after a restless night, was breakfasting alone in his hotel parlour. The sea-coal fife flowed in the grate. The table was tempting with French china, sparkling glass, polished silver and dainty viands. But Max had no appetite. His eye kept reverting to the unfolded papers which he dared not open so long as the waiter remained in the room. • Every day he expected to find in the papers an accouirnt of Rosalie's disappearance, and of his own connection with the girl. At last he was alone. He eagerly seized one of the newspapers, opened ii and read, in conspicuous headings, not what he sought, but this: CRIME IN HIGH LIFE! FRENZIED BY LOSS OF FORTUNE, SYBIL GREY SHOOTS THE LEGAL HEIR.

Max Charteris let the paper fall from his hand. He stared with horror, like a man petrified with fear. Springing to his feet he seized another of the morning journals. (To be continued.)