"The Chains of Bondage."

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10087, 7 September 1910, Page 2

"The Chains of Bondage."

V BY EMILY B- HETHERIHGTON. / v Author 01—" tlis College Chum," " Wortbington's » Pledge," " A iieptnSant Poe," etc.

CHAPTER XXXVlll.—Continued

As the words broke from him the detective made a rush for the outer door, and rushed out to the landing. The man in evening clones, must Jiave known of this ghastly thing I the desk hid, had only been gone a .ninute or two—the man who was j perhaps the actual murderer, slipped clean through their fingers by his consummate effrontery! They recognised it in a flash, with bitter chagrin. He had coolly waited there, fooling them completely, shrewd men of the world though they flattered themselves they were, to cover the woman's retreat. No sign' of him, of course, It was only to be expected that he had made the most of his minute or two of grace. Leaving his subordinate to apprise Scotland Yard of the discovery, the detective dashed down the stairs in pursuit. Meanwhile, Trevena, his hand arrested by the cry within as he was about to knock at the door of the flat for readmission,' had raced down like mad into the streets. Who would have dreamed of the discovery being made so soon? His one feeling of satisfaction in the whole affair was that, at least, Judith Fairfax must be far away at this time, beyond reach of pursuit. But, as he rushed out into the street, with the ominous sound of the throwing open of the door of the top flat to warn him that the chase had already begun-, Trevena heard his name spoken. A woman's figure darted out from the shelter of a dark doorway. It was Judith. "You! What are you doing here?" he cried in amazement, as she ran up to him. "It was madness to wait. I hoped you were far away." "I couldn't leave until I knew you were out of danger!" the woman breathlessly answered. "Come! We've got to run for it! We are both in danger now. The police have discovered everything! There's not a moment to lose!" He had scarcely slackened his pace. Judith, realising from his manner, even before he spoke that the crime was known, was running swiftly by his side, as these scraps of questions and answers were breathlessly exchanged. Fortunately it was a dark quiet street, one of the streets that lie so near and yet are so remote from the busy traffic in Victoria Street. They were round the nearest corner in a twinkling, before the de- :

tective in pursuit reached the bottom of the staircase of the building. Before them lay several narrow streets radiating from one point. Trevena drew the woman down the darkest and narrowest of these.

"We're safe for the moment, anyhow ; this maze of streets would perplex any one," muttered Trevena, pausing to slip on the light overcoat that he was carrying on his arm ■ his evening clothes in these parts made him a more conspicuous figure than was desirable under the 'circumstances.

As he was struggling into .it, a small packet of letters and papers, confined in an elastic band, fell from the breast pocket to the pavement. Trevena, in the excitement of the hunt had almost forgotten that it was the dead man's coat. He stooped and picked up the packet and thrust it into his pocket. Some of Wace's correspondence, no doubt. With scarcely a word spoken the man and the woman walked on. There was no sign of pursuit as the two emerged from the alley into a street where peddlars' stalls lined the curb, bright with flaming naphtha lamps, busy with life and movement ; but it was with a sense of relief that Trevena and his companion mingled with the animated crowd.

CHAPTER XXXIX

At the end of the road Trevena hailed a four-wheeler. He told the man to drive them to Piccadilly; he would not risk giving an address by which they might subsequently be traced.

"Why oh earth did you wait when I told you to make a hurried flight once you got away?" Trevena said half impatiently, as the cab bore them swiftly away from the danger zone. "It doesn't matter as things have turned out, of course; only, by Jove! it might have mattered! A minute later, and—well, things might have happened that I don't care to contemplate!" he grimly added.

"But how could I, or any woman, unless she was an Ungrateful coward!" A little sob that told of her pent-up emotion broke from Judith. "How could I snatch like that at my own safety, leaving you up there in danger? I was in suspense, until I knew that you, too, were safe." She paused a moment as another sob shook her. "Oh, I can't adequately, thank you! I can find no words for al I fleel! Only I wonder if—if any man ever did for a woman what you have done for me, and not only tonight!"

(To be Continued Daily.)

Her voice was uncontrollably unsteady. The light of the passing street lamp, through the cab window revealed a momentry glimpse of the tears in the dark, beautiful eyes. Judith did n6t know how deeply her words had stirred the man at her side—those words: "How could I snatch at my own safety, leaving you up there in danger? I was in suspense until I knew that you, too, were safe!" They were reward enough for his secvice. "I am only glad you were only able to summon me; I am more than glad to be able to render you

any service," ne said, in a low voice. And, then, as though he feared lest something of those feelings that he must keep under lock and key in his heart might have betrayed themselves in his tones, Trevena added quickly: "What nonsense to make so much fuss about a trifling service that any man would have gladly rendered!'' in laughing disclaimer. A T ot that he felt in a laughing mood. The events of the night had shaken him scarcely less than Judith—the, shock of coming upon the dead man after having won a way into the place where she was a prisoner; the part that it had needed a supreme effort to sustain, when the police had come on the scene to cover Judith's retreat. And though he gave Judith no hint of his anxiety, he was alive to the danger of the future—probably ; more danger for himself than for her. Judith had worn a dark veil, and had disguised her voice; the detectives had only seen her for a moment or two. With himself the Case was different. Either of the two men would recognise him again. Andhe had left his coat behind. Fortunately, as he remembered, there was nothing in. the pockets to indicate who the owner was; possibly, too, it might be thought, when the blood stains on it drew the attention of the police, that it had belonged to the dead man. Trevena sincerely hoped so. A silence had fallen beween them as the cab rattled through tjje lighted streets. Judith was deep in abstracted thought. There was. a momentry vision before her of a night of storm on Epsom Downs, and an old Romany hag bending beady eyes over her hand. How strangely the gypsy woman's words at which she had mocked then had been fulfilled.

Her child lost to her, mysteriously snatched in the very moment of seeming success; that hour of horror when, with her recognition as Judith Hardress, and the police close on her heels, she had been saved only as by a miracle; to-night when a new danger, a new terror, i had fallen—aye, the fortune she I had grasped at and fought for had l come dowered with a curse, bringing bitterness and sacrifice, and unsleeping dread with it. it was as though fate were dogging her ruthlessly, playing with her as a cat with a mouse—perhaps to entrap her iu ruin at the end. Herbert Wace's death had added ■ a new complication. Would these proofs in his possession showing j that she had no right to the fortune she enjoyed, come to light now to strip her of it? With that question in her mind, Judith'B thoughts suddenly slipped away to the man by her side. She dreaded John Trevena ever learning that the dead man had been blackmailing her, not as she let Trevena think, because she had been Judith but because she was' a thief, clinging to a fortune that rightly belonged to another, to the girl engaged to be married to Trevena's friend—Jim Ralston!

THE NINE OF DIAMONDS. Judith stole a glance at the pleasant, bull-dog face of the man at her side. Twice at great personal risk he had come to help. Would he have come so generotis to-night if he had known she was a thief? It came upon her suddenly that she dreaded above all things, Trevena's discovery of the fact—dreaded losing his good opinion even more than she would have dreaded losing Wilfred Elstree's.

To herself Judith had never professed to be in love with Wilfred Ellstree. She liked him, and' this marriage-the brilliant alliance with one of the oldest, proudest families in the kingdom—would put the crown on her ambitions. But love? To-night,, for the first time, Judith wondered if love were not finding her out at last—love for a man who had done so much for her and asked nothing in return? But that was a question this woman would not answer, even to herself. , • '

At Piccadilly Circus the fourwheeler was dismissed. Trevena \ hailed a taxicab. I

"I'll see you as far as your j house, if I may," he said. )