THE STUDENT'S SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8460, 10 June 1907, Page 2

THE STUDENT'S SECRET.

CHAPTER XV.—Continued. • Charteris briefly related Serpolette's ghost story, and the detective's suspicion that the ghost would prove to he the murderer. He told how he and the detective had watched through the preceding night, but without result. No ghost had appeared. "And then':" Sybil asked, faintly. "As soon as day dawned, Detective Winaus prepared for action. Pie had every avenue of escape guarded, and he and I we-jt through the house-—" "Through the house?" repeated Sybil. "Yes, through and through it. At last, in a dark room, on the fourth .floor "

Max paused. Sybil had turned deadly pale. "Go on!" she said. "We found a crazy, old, coloured man in bed. Winans thought he might be an acquaintance of one of the servants, but they deny all knowledge of him." Again Max paused. He had no need to put a direct question. It was plain that Sybil rerognized the person he described. "Pierre!" she murmured, between her purple lips. "Who is Pierre?" "My father's faithful valet." "Ah! I remember; the whitehaired mulatto ■" "Yes. Luke Jastrum had him carried to the asylum. I did not believe he was crazy, though." "Well, I fear he is crazy now. When we found him, all he said wasi 'Tell Miss Sybil I did my duty.' Can you remember what he means by that?" "1 will go and see him," Sybil said. Max and she repaired to the house, where Winans had maanwhile made a new discovery. Between the mattresses of Pierre's bed he discovered a large revolver ■with a pouch of balls—of the same ,size as that found in the brain of the murdered man. He found, likewise, portions of food for which Pierre had descended to the pantry in the dead of the night wrapped in his bedclothes. The ghost which Serpolette and Rosalie had seen was accounted for. The detective had, meanwhile, also dispatched a messenger to Blackwell's Island, where it was soon barned that the mulatto, Pierre, had escaped from the asylum within a few days after being confined there, and that no trace of him had been found. The servants' failure to discover his presence in the house was accounted for by the fact that Jastrum had employed new help immediately after the funeral, and they had not troubled themselves to explore the house, whose; double tragedy had excited their superstitious fears. t-ybil hastened to the room where the old man, feeble, emaciated, with his shattered body and disordered mind, lay mumbling disjointedly. He evinced no surprise at seeing the young girl—whom, however, he at once recognised. "It's all safe, Miss Sybil," he chuckled; "ole Pierre kep' it safe in spite of 'em. Ole Pierre was watchin' for a chance to do his.duty." "Pierre," said Sybil, in the calm, penetrating voice which was so like her father's, "did you fire through the window at Mr Jastrum?" "Course I did," chuckled the old man. "Peeped right 'tween the curstains and fired. Ole Pierre knew when 'twas time to do his duty." "They, thought I killed him, Pierre >> "Lor', no. Pierre'd have tole 'em better tljau that. I seed jou snatch up the revolver, though. An' then I knew 'twas time." , "Poor Pierre!" exclaimed Sybil, with a deep sigh. "Don't you worry, Miss Sybil. It's coming out all right. Ole Pierre ain't so peart as he was once, but he's peart enough*to do his duty." Winans, who was a witness of this interview, asked quietly at this juncture :

"Pierre, is your duty all done?" The mulatto looked angrily from under his bushy white brows at the intruder. "You'd better look out," he laughed. "I've got a little dog that bites, now. Didn't have none that day they knocked me down in the hall."

He began to ramble ir his talk, and not even Sybil's voice could bring him back to coherence. It was evident that it would be necessary to replace Pierre in asylum, but Sybil resolved that she would have him cared for under her own eye, if she were in a situation to assume the ex-

pense. Slowly she and Max Charteris went downstairs. Side by side, with drooped heads., they entered the library—the room which Julian Grey had loved. Sybil, for the lust time, .seated herself in tne familiar chair, beside the tables where she had written and studied imd?r her father's eye. She reflected upon her dreadful fate, her dreary future. And she saw how her sufferings had resulted from another's sin. Nothing like reproach, or useless repining, came to her mind, however. She felt only a passionate desire to ■do right. Charteris and she sat for some little time in silence. At last Sybil said, with the composure she had been struggling for: "Max, the time has come for us to part. I have formed a resolution, and you must not distress me by opposing it. Oar paths henceforth lead in different ways. 1 can no j longer delay following mine. IJ shall not return to Mrs Fullerton's. j You must carry my kind mubsages to her. Fate has branded me as a friendless outcast. I make no further re-

By MRS W. H. FALMEK,.

sistance to her decree. Henceforth, I go my way alone!" Max Charteris had listened to the slowly spoken words in a sort of stupor. The possibility of separating from Sybil Grey, of relinquishing her friendship, had never occurred to him. "You are mad!" he cried, "to talk so!" "No," she said, smiling faintly.' "But I tell you, you are mad, Sybil. Leave us? Leave my father, my aunt—me? Never! You shall never leave us! We think of nothing but to make amends, to comfort you, to —love you!" "You are kind—you are all kind; but I cannot stay with you. My cup may be bitter, but I shall accept it. Max, do not make it any harder for me than it is." Her voice shook. "Harder, Sybil! No, indeed. We will make your life what it should be. Do not talk of refusing our—do not deny me " "Hush, Max—my friend! Let me call you so so, this once, this last time. Do not seek to change my firm resolve. It is right for me to go. I feel that it is right: Dear Max, let us-—let us always do right!" The tears were flowing slowly down Sybil's pale cheeks. Charteris sprang to her side. "Right!" he exclaimed, seizing her hands. "Right, Sybil! It is you alone who help me to do right. You do not know your influence over me. Without you"—he faltered—"l cannot tell—l cannot admit to myself what my life would be without you—- -" His voice fell; he sank upon one knee before the young girl, and pressed his lips with devotion to the trembling hands he held within his own. There was an instant of silence. Within that instant a single word, spoken in a cold, scornful voice, reached their ears: '•'Remember!" Their startled eyes turned towards the door whence the voice proceeded. Rosalie Jastrum was in the act of turning away. She was in a street costume of black velvet and brown sable. With her queenly form, her flashing eyes and damask lips she had never looked mere imperial or imperious. It was also she who had spoken the word: "Remember!" Charteris, with his first glance, sprang to his feet. "I—l—remember," he said mechanically. He clasped his hands to his head. He bent upon Sybil one look—the look of the doomed upon the closing gates of paradise. "Pity me! forgive me! forget me!" he exclaimed, retreating step by step from her side. Rosalie waited outside the door. "Mr Charteris," she sai n-ve been told that you were hun. I avoided you. I assure you * ha*i_been hurt because you avoided me " Charteris walked toward his wife. He paused in the doorway. "Sybil," he said, in a broken voice, "good-bye." Rosalie's panther-like, velvet-black eyes glowed with flames of anger. "Good-bve," she echoed, in a piercing whisper. "It is well said™ goodbye!"

CHAPTER XVI. "MY CONSCIENCE IS IN YOUR KEEPING." The summer sky! the summer sea! A long, low mainland green with June; a sandy beach; a high, blue tide.„ Sails, like white shadows, swooping gulls, and no sound but the monotone of the breaking waves. From a hammock swung on a broad porch, Sybil Grey looked off at thi fair scene. The pale-gold braids of her beautiful hair, coiled like a crown around the head that rested upon her arm. A cluster of purple beach peas half faded, that lay on her breast, stirred with her breathing. The south wind swayed the white draperies that defined the outlines of her graceful form. In the shadow of a room opening upon the porch stood an easel and a box of colours. Around were the hollywood panels, porcelain .plaques and satin fans, in process of decoration. It is said that Heaven helps those who help themselves. From the time that Sybil Grey put into execution her determination to work for her living, she had not wanted for counsel or assistance. (To be Continued.)