A DESPERATE GAME.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10115, 10 October 1910, Page 2

A DESPERATE GAME.

(OUR SERIAL.)

By OWEN MASTERS. Author of "The Master of Tredcroft," "One Impassioned Hour," "The Deverel Heritage," "When Love Rules the Heart," "Captain Emlyn's Bride," etc.

CHAPTER XlV.—Continued. I found that three hours was a moderate estimate of the probable length of our journey. When eleven o'clock came we were still flying along at unabated speed, and so we were at midnight; indeed, it was not until nearly, the close of the fifth hour after our departure from opposite the British Museum that we drew up at a large, sombre-looking house standing absolutely by itself in a miniature forest, and in absolute darkness. "as this the place?" I asked. "Yes." "It hardly looks if I—wc were expected ?" "No." He took from his pocket a huge key, and with it opened the heavy door that creaked and groaned on its lunges as if very reluctant to perforin an office to which it was all unused. Then he led me across the hall, and ushered me into a room on the right. It had been dark outside, even darker in the hall, but here it was absolute pitch blackness. "Stay here a moment," he said, "and 1 will bring you a light." I heard a tiny click, a subdued sound of departing footsteps, a heavy, sullen boom, and thereafter a dead silence, apparently as impenetratable as the darkness. I remained where I was, every sense on the alert with some undefined instinct of danger. And then, curiously enough, muffled as though a long way off, I heard the throb of a motor car. It was a second ( or two before I quite grasped.the meaning of it, but when I did I sprang forward with a low cry towards the spot where I supposed the door to be - i i r With trembling, eager hands I sought for the knob, but it seemed to elude my search, then I took out ,mv match box.

all, did nothing to help me out. The floor was <■- stone or cement ,the material of the ceiling I could not decide, because not even by placing the chair on the table could I do more than just touch it with my outstretched hand; but the walls were of steel, at all events of some metal which clanged sonorously in response to the touch of any hard instrument. No efforts or search of mine, however, could discern any break in those smooth, solid walls, which seemed to suround me in an impenetrable prison of impervious steel. I sat down once again to think it out. This new phase of the story ought to have been terrifying, but, as far as I can recollect, the uppermost and prominent feeling in my mind was one of bewilderment. I seemed to be the hapless and helpless victim of unexpected fates, a sort of human shuttlecock, knocked about hither and thither, without the slightest power of choosing my own way.

I seemed to be floundering in the midst of half a dozen mysteries, and yet when I came to consider them carefully over they were curiously intermixed. I had left prison with the design and determination of establishing my innocence of the crime for which I had suffered, . had straightway applied to my cousin for aid. and by him had been referred to Mr Vanneck. That Vanneck should have been assassinated on the very evening on which I was to have seen him was no doubt a coincidence, though even in connection with the tragedy there was than mysterious scrap of paper—and Nora Hardcastle.

I realized everything the moment the tiny glimmer broke the surrounding darkness. I was a prisoner! Why, or at whose orders, I had no idea, but the fact itself was evident, and it Avas quite sufficient to occupy all my thoughts at that moment. On'the table in tlio middle of the room was a lamp, and when I had lit it a was able better to examine my surroundings. That my coming had been prepared for was evident. At the other end of the table oh which the lamp stood was laid a supper—cold meat, pickles, and some bottled beer, while in the middle, laying between the lamp and the supper, were some books and magazines, a box of cigars, and a tin can of kerosene. Evidently, I thought, my gaolers, whoever they were, had no intention of starving "me. Then I turned more narrowly to examine the room, and once again I found myself face to face with a new mystery. . -It was a small apartment, some fourteen feet long, by some nine or ten broad, and very lofty, with ceilings, walls and floor all apparently of stone, and all in the same colour, a dull gray. And, most astonishing of all, the walls were seemingly unbroken, with no sign visible of either window, fireplace or door. The whole place bore the appearance or a hugs oblong box, with no obvious means'- of ingress or of exit. ■

T picked up one of the books lying on the table close to my elbow, and without so much as glancing at the title, tore out the flyleaf, upon which I began to make a chart of my amazing experiences. It was a curious document ,and may interest the reader. I have it before me now as I write: '-\

CHAPTER XV. A CURIOUS DOCUMENT.' The room was by no means luxuriously furnished, and it was absolutely devoid of all ornament. On the floor in the middle ,and therefore beneath the table, was a square of carpet, rather the worse for wear; the table itself was about six feet by about four j there was one chair, and at one end of the room against one of the shorter walls, was a low camp bedstead; well supplied with rugs and blankets.. All this I took in at a glance, as well as the dubious light Mould allow, but when I tried to lift the lamp with the idea of making a more detailed search, I found it was fastened to the table. Was that merely a precaution against upsetting it, or was it to prevent a closer inspection of the apartment? While I was debating this, my eye , was again caught by the cold meat and bread, and I decided that ten minutes might well be spent in eating. I found the meat excellent, the bread was fresh and soft, the beer light, but of a good brew ; nor were the cigars of an inferior quality. It was while I was half-seated, half lounging on the bed, smoking, that the idea of ventilation first occurred to me—a matter of only momentary interest in itself; but

worth mentioning here because./ of ~ what it led to. The smoke of my cigar rose sluggishly upwardly and disappeared. Although the lamp had been burning now some time, the atmosphere of the room was still cool and fresh. This could not have been so had the chamber been the hermetically sealed box it had appeared to be on preliminary, casual inspection. There must be some means of ventilation, and where that was there must be an outlet.

J.—l am falsely accused of a jewel robbery at Coy ton Towers, under such circumstances as leave no doubt in my own mind that it was an intrigue deliberately planned. 2.—1 leave prison, intent on proving my innocence, with no other clue than a slender and dubious suspicion against Maynard Drew. 3.—1 apply to my cousin, Ephraim f urbutt, for aid, and am referred to Vanncck, who promises me a s\ifficient income on condition that I leave England. 4.—1 see Constance Vanneck. s.—Vanncck is murdered on the very evening upon which I am to see him tor the purpose of acquainting him with my decision. 6.—1 discover the dead body, and find Conctance in the same room unconscious, with a revolver clutched firmly in her hand. 7.—1 also find a scrap of paper bearing the cryptic words " aid Normington is inn " B.—l see Maynard. Drew covered in blood and bearing evident marks of a struggle, enter the room where the dead man lies, and bear off the unconscious girl in his motor car. 9.—While I am in the garden of Vanneek's house, watching the car, an unknown urges me by name to get clear away, lest I, an ex-convict, being found there, should be accused of the murder. 10.—I learn from the papers • that Nora Hardcastle, a woman in the service of Mr Vanneck, had disappeared after the murder, and that the police are actively searching for her. 11.—I receive a visit from the said Mora Hardcastle ,who tells me she knows I was at Hampstead on the night of the murder, hints that my innocence in the matter "of the Coj'ton jewel robbery can be proved ,and gives me a hundred pounds. 12.—1 receive two visits from my cousin, who urges me to leave the country lest I get in the way of his social advancement, and also suggests that my presence at Hampstead on the night of the murder is known. 13.—1 visit Maynard Drew in ; search of Constance, only to find that . she has disappeared. 14.—1 receive a note from someone j professing to be able to. help me in my search for the real author of the Coyton robbery, but find it to be a trap and to lead to — this. I

Once again I made a tour of the room, feeling carefully every inch of the Avail within reach, and scanning it naiT.iM-ly.for some indication of a doonvay by M'hich I entered. I knew, or though I know, in what direction it should lie, though, seek as I would I could see no sign of it. But I made one discovery M'hich, while it increased the marvel of it

There was the list ,and as I read it I was forced to confess that the clouds were very thick indeed. Constance and Vanneck, and Maynard Drew, and Nora Hardcastle, Cousin Ephraiin and myself, were all jumbled together in apparently inextric-able—-to mc certainly inextricable—confusion. Only three facts stood out clearly from the medley. I loved Constance Vanneck; my cousin wanted to be rid of me; the woman suspected of the murder of Mr Vanneck was the woman who had promised to establish my innocence. Could she do'that? Would she if she could? Was not her action directed rather to lulling me into the false security or undue hopefulness, and Ava's not this last phase of all- a move in that game? (To be Continued.)