THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 3080, 30 December 1908, Page 2

THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

CHAPTER IX.—Continued. | < It was eleven o'clock by .this time, and nearly everyone had ; breakfasted. Half a ciozsn people ' were oh the terrace. Rose Altaian was among them. Randal Heathcote was not there. Edith compressed her lips with impatience as , she noted bis absence. 1 Miss Altaian came forward at once to meet her. i "What is the matter?" she asked. "You look like a ghost." j . Her blue eyes glittered with malignant curiosity. ( • Edith turned upon her sharply. j "1 feel like one," she said, "Rose, \ why did you write that wicked letter to my husband? You kuew it was false. We had a fearful quarrell, j and he left me in anger." "I?" queried Rose, in real or pretended amazement. j "Oh; you need not trouble to deny it." Edith said contemptuously. "f krlow you wrote it. Have you seen him this morning?" "No. He has gene to the village with Mr Poncet a;.d Mr Reeve." "How do you know he has? I don't : believe he could go without coming to speak to me." "I don't know it; l heard some one say he had, that is all." "Good morning," said Heathcote's voice behind her, and Edith felt herself chill at the presence of the murderer before she looked in his face. How much more, then; he gave her a swift, curdling, significant glance. Yet how she longed for an opportunity to tell him what they were I saying—that Captain Tyrrell had gone to the village. Could it be oossible? Scarcely, or' Heathcote j irculd not look so black through all Lie brightness he had forced his face , K> assume. I mße paused beside her presently. ■ 'For Heaven's sake, don't look so ■xious!" he said in a low vo'ce, as Wi leaned over the balustrade and Effected to be gathering a knot of I roses. ' j Edith answered him in the same i suppressea tones. _ j "They are saying that Captain Tyrrell has gone to the village this morning., What can it mean?" Heathcote seemed startled. His i cheek turned chalky for a moment. J Then he said: "It is some mistake. It can't be true. I wish it were possible. But 1 know it is not. What made you so late this morning? I was down early, and it has been a frightfully lung morning." "I drank all the wine you left, and it helped me to sleep at last. J. hoped it would be over ueiore I waked." "Well, it isn't. Have, you had your breakfast?" "No." ' j "Go and get it, then; and be sure j you eat; if you have to force it down. ; You're going to spoil all with your j nervousness, if you are not careful." j Later in the day, when the inur- I tiered body of Fairfax Tyrrell wa3 at J last found under the trees in the j park, where Heathcote had placed i u, the young widow acted her miserable part better. "1 didn't kill him, and I wOn't act as if I did," she said to herself desperately. Rose flut/g herself dowT beside the dead man and sririeked aloud. ! "I'll hunt tne murderer down if I j live!" I Edith heard her, and caught the dark m her eyes. "She hopts ii was I!" she thought, "and she will try to prove that it is " They stood round the body,' soon . after—Edith with her face buried in her handkerchief and sobbed convulsively. She might do that now without exciting suspicion. Rose came close beside her. "I know now what made you look so like a ghost this morning," she whispered.' ''You had probably S2en one. You knew he had not gone to the village when you were questioning me, you wicked creature!" Rose had never loved her grandfather much. Latterly she had almost hated him for making his will in Edith's favour, and she was more enraged at the fact that her plans for inducing him to alter it had failed than she was grieved at the murder. Edith lifted her face. It was whiter than the dead man's; the eyes were black depths of horror and anguish. "If you have anything to say about me, Rose, you can say it at the inquest," she said sternly, though with quivering lips. "To me you shall not utter your impertinences!" Rose flushed. " Who will hinder me?" But she said no more then. She saved herself for the inquest, and meanwhile thought of her points. "He didn't have time to alter his will after he found her ,out," she thought bitterly, "and I've not much besides guesswork to go on. But I'll tell all I know, and some things I guess, and I'll make her all the trouble I can." An inquest was speedily arranged. The coroner and his jury took their places about four o'clock. Heathcote stole furtive glances of apprehension every now and then at Edith. Some one had brought her a chair. She had ceased crying, and seemed calm, though so deathly pale. Heathcote went presently and spoke to her. He could endure no longer without some assurance from her. "You're not going to betray me, Edith,"he whispered. "I swear to you I loved you the most when I treated you the worst.'' jmKVm not going to betray you," coldly. one the first unexasked.

By HELEN COEWIN PIERCE, Axt'.ior of "At His Own Gan e," "Carrie Emerson "B;.dly Matched," "Tie Cheated Bride," Etc.

his arrival?" "In the hall leading to his wife's appartments." "Did you,speak with him?" "Mo. He seemed excited, and I thought I might not wish to see him so. 1 therefore retreated, though I was on my way to Mrs Tyrrell's rooms, without speaking to him." "When did you next him?" "I never saw him again till I saw him here dead," "Do you know of anyone who entertained malice against him?" "No" —hesitatingly. "Do you suspect anyone of malice toward the deceased?" "1 decline to answer that." "Do you know anyone who was specially interested in his death?" "His wife was." v There was a sensation here, and the little crowd which had gathered pressed closer to hear what next. Edith remained unmoved, only her black eyes shot a ray of scorn at the witness. "How so?" "He made a will, just after they were married, leaving her everything he possessed, and I have often heard him tell her she only married him for his money." '.'Did you ever hear or see anything in her to lead you to thii-.k she wished him dead?" Rose hesitated. "No, but I believe she did." "Yet you say you have nothing to found your belief upon." "Coroner," said Heathcote, "Miss Altaian would have inherited her grandfather's property if he had died without a will. Perhaps the fact that he did not, explains her extraordinary opinion of his afflicted wife." Rose turned red and then white. But she had no answer ready, and Edith herself was next summoned. She rose and stood without support—pale, put quite self-possessed. Heathcote had as much as he could do to keep out of his face the sharp anxiety in his heart. But he did it." "Were you expecting your husband last evening?" the coroner asked. "I was not." "Did you observe anything unusual in his manner?" "He was labouring under some violent excitement or agitation." "Did he tell you what was the cause of that excitement?" "He did not." Edith had decided before she was called that she would not perjure herself in spite of her oath to her cousin. So far as she could tell the truth, or evade it, she would. Beyoijd that she would not go. She would be utterly silent rather than betray her cousin, or swear to a lid for him. Her husband had not told her the cause of his excitement. True, he had given her extremely good reason to infer what was the occasion of it. But he had not'told her in so many words. Rose Altman started violently as Edith answered this question. She was actually on the point of telling about thp letter, wh'ich she knew from Edith's own acknowledgment, she had seen. But she happened to think that the writing would betray her as its author, and she was not prepared to encounter the contempt as her acquaintances, which she knew she would receive for writing it. (To be continued).