"The Chains of Bondage."

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10084, 5 September 1910, Page 2

"The Chains of Bondage."

CHAPTER XXXVI.-Continued. Trevena was looking down at the dead man. He saw that Herbert Wace was shot; the bullet must have struck his heart. How could one. reconcile Judith's story that she and Wace had been alone in the flat at the moment of the man's death ? And yet he believed her innocent. Yet he knew that circumstances must look very grave against her if he could not get her away from here unseen. "Are you feeling stronger yetable to walk downstairs?" he asked. Trevena was in a fever of impatmce to be gone. Every moment here -.n-lt added danger. "You have left uo trace behind you that you were coming here to-night—no letter?' She shook her head. "No; I telephoned." "Good! Come make an effort; you're a woman of resolution and will. Who knows how long the coast will be clear." Already, as Trevena saw, Judith had pulled herself together amazingly. Not only the brandy he had forced her to take, but her confidence in this quiet, strong man who had sav.ed her before and who had come polt-haste to her help now, had worked" 1 wonders. The reaction might follow later, but for the time being a sudden new access of strength seemed to have brought back all her nerve.

Almost as Trevena spoke a low cry broke from the woman. "Listen!"

Trevena had heard it too. Footsteps were coming up the stairs, perhaps to this very, flat—the heavy footsteps of two men. The man and the woman exchanged rapid glances. The footsteps were coming up to the top landing. JuditH saw Trevena suddenly glance down at the dead n.;>.n, and then round the room : as, if looking for a hiding place for that thing of hornnv ■•-•..•.... ■>'■■ .-■■■<■ '■ '.■'.■-.

k> Trevena had realised that if those nearing footsteps stopped at the door of this flat, a new problem might be added to a situation already sufficiently fraught with difficulty and peril. "What are you thinking of?" she whispered fearfully. As she spoke there came a knock at the door—a heavy, peremptory knock. The storm outside had spent itself; but a sudden peal of thunder could not have made her start more than did the knock, even though she was expecting it. Swiftly Trevena pushed to the door of the room where they stood; he remembered the spyhole that the letter slit afforded.

"I was wondering where to hide that," and he glanced down at the dead man on the floor. "We may have to open the door." "Open the door. Are you mad?" "It may be the wisest thing to do. After all, the murder can't possibly be suspected yet. Whoever is outside, he, or they, cannot have come in connection with Wace's death. But things may look suspicious if we don't open. There's a fanlight over the door showing a light within; that will hint that someone is in the flat. My plan will be the safest. Pull yourself together! Remember, the murder can't be known yet; and if there's no trace of it—and there's going to be no trace—we are comparatively safe." While he had been speaking Trevena' s mind had been quickly coming to a decision. There was one possible hiding place in the room—only one—a roll-top office desk of oak, an unusually large one, six feet wide. It had been one of the article sof furniture when Wace took the furnished flat. It stood empty now. Wace had packed everything ready for his flight. Almost as the words were upon his lips Trevena stooped and dragged the dead man across the carpet. The task was horrible, but the ghastly trace of the crime could not be left there when he went to the door. With an effort of strength and swiftness that would have been impossible for him in normal conditions, Trevena got the terrible burden into the desk, and pulled down the roll top over it with a snap. The top locked itself automatically, hiding the' dead man completely. So rapid had been Trevena's action that the second knock came simultaneously with the faint click of the lock.

There was a curious peremptory sound about the knock that struck Trevena. Not casual visitors, whoever the men outside were. Trevena glanced at Judith. She was very plaianly dressed. She had di-awn the heavy veil over her face. "Whoever they are, it will be the safest an f or U8 to °P en tue d° o1 *' otherwise, suspicion might be aroused. We might be watched leaving later," Trevena whispered, speaking with rapid decisiveness. "I have a plan. Listen to me carefully. You must pretend to be the servant leaving for the night. Mr Wace not at home. I waiting his return. You understand ? That will account plausably for everything. You are just going home, and aB soon as you have spoken to them, go!" He could not have said why, tut a feeling amounting almost to a conviction had swept over him that the visit of these late callers might be fateful.

BY EMILY' B. HETHERINGTOff. Author of—" His Colleg > Chum," " Worfcbington's Pledge," " A Repentant Foe," etc

"But " Judith began nervousJ* .. .

"You've the pluck to carry this through, and do it you must. It may be your only chance. Keep this fact steadily in view, that no one as yet can know of the murder, and there are no traces of it about. Play your part and nothing will be suspected. I'll stay here behind you for a little, if necessary; but you are the servant going home for the night, and you're not going to wait for anybody. That's your cue. Now go to the door." "Stop! Look!" Judith cried in a low voice of horror, as the knock came for the- third time. Her finger was pointing.

She had suddenly seen something on the light overcoat that Trevena was wearing over his evening clothes. I>own the front it was stained with blood in several places, due to his having lifted the dead man.

Hurriedly, as Judith went to answer the summons, Trevena took off the coat and flung it down on a chair in the hall, turned inside out, and snatched up a coat hanging on the hall stand, and flung it over his arm to appear just like a visitor who had just come. He was standing at the door of the sitting room as Judith opened the door. He saw two clean-shaven men, plainly dressed, standing.there,,,and for a moment Trevena's heart sank with foreboding. It was evident to him. in his first glance that they were connected with the police—their appearance looked ominous. And would Judith play her part convincingly ? "Mr Wace in?" asked one of the men, rather peremptorily, as if annoyed at being kept waiting, with a searching glance at the woman who had opened the doors. "No, lie isn't; and 1 don't know when he will be in," was Judith's answer.. "All 1 know is, he was to have been back an hour ago, and he. has kept me waiting all this time, : and I'm not going, to wait any longer !" as if in an outburst of angry petulance. And Trevena, remembering the half-hysterical state of the woman not so long before, was amazed that she was acting the part so admirably—more so than he had dared to hope. He came forward and said blandly: "My good girl, I've already told you I can wait alone until your master comes—that there is no need for you to wait a moment longer on my account. I shall not loot the flat!"

"It's just like him!" grumbled the supposed servant snappishly. "He knows I want to get off early tonight, and I've a precious good mind to take you at your word. And I will, so there?" with a toss of her head. She turned to the two men. "He's not at home, and goodness knows when he will be, so you'd better call again if you want to see him." And she bounced out of the flat as if in a decidedly bad temper, banging the door after her leaving Travena alone in the flat. "Jove! She did that well! But what are the police doing here? Will they try to detain her?" ran Trevena's thoughts anxiously. "No they're hardly likely to do that. It is not as though they could suspect anything of the murder. No doubt they have 'come in consequence of someone of the dead man's peccadilloes; Wace seems to have oeen a pretty bad man." With these thoughts in his i».md Trevena crept up to the door and listened. He heard the two men cutside questioning Judith, heard her snappish replies; she was acting her part to perfection—that of the indignant servant kept beyond fcer time.

Then, to Trevena's intense relief, ho heard her making her way downstairs.

But the two plain-clothes men did not.

Then there came a knock at the door again. CHAPTER XXXVII. COMEDY ENDS ON A TRAGIC NOTE. John Trevena's'wits, were keenly alert to face any new emergency. It was something to be thankful for that Judith had got clear of this house of tragedy. "I thought the maid told you—not very politely—that Mr Wace was not at "home?" Trevena remarked with imperturbed coolness, as he opened the door. The foremost of the two men calmly pushed forward into the hall. (To be Continued Daily.)