A DESPERATE GAME.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10122, 19 October 1910, Page 2

A DESPERATE GAME.

(OUR SERIAL.)

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

CHAPTER XX.ni.—Continued

I take the credit for my powers of acting in that my voice did not falter as I mentioned the latter name. "Ronald Normington ? Yes, I see the papers have been hinting at him," he said thoroughly; "but you are wasting your time." "Ah, he was not the mysterious stranger?" "I think he did not murder Richard Yanneck, any more than he took the Coyton jewels." 'Oli, come now, that was proved up to the hilt, and doubly proved." "Yes; but you see, I know Ronny Normington. He has keen brains, but not of that sort. The Coyton robbery was worked in the cleverest possible way without a hitch. It was the work of an expert. The man who took the Coyton jewels would never have tried to pawn them. It is possible that Normington may have been one of the gang—but I don't assert that—and that they worked it so as to throw the blame on him." "But even then he might have murdered Yanneck." "Yes; but that is the only evidence against him. It is solely because he was a convict that he was suspected. Otherwise there would be no more reason for implicating him than for suspecting Maynard Drew, who was also in the house on that same evening. I know the police have fixed their eyes on Normington, but I have mine on Nora Hardcastle. •Find her, and you will solve the problem." "If the police arrested this Normington " "Oh, they don't mean to arrest him. I was talking to the police inspector about it yesterday 'lt is a safe rule,' lie said, 'to suspect an ex-convict if he is anywhere near. We can prove that Yanneck expected Normington ; but what we have to prove is that Normington went—a very different matter.' That is the exact position, and I am not wasting my time on a will-o'-the-wisp of that sort. If I find Nora Hardcastle, she can tell mo whether or not it was Normington she admitted. Besides, I have seen Miss Yanneck, and she tells me that the voice of the man she heard was not the voice of Ronald Normington. I asked her if she was prepared to swear to that, and she said she was, absolutely. Jf she does that there will have to be much more than merely circumstantial evidence against Normington." "Yes, I suppose so, but if the police traced him to Hampstead, and showed that he was actually in the neighbourhood of the house at the time of the tragedy " "It would go hard with him—yes. The identification of a voice is not the same as recognition by sight. Do you know anything as to what " "Oh, no; but still it is a possible line of search." "H'm! I suppose so; but lam going to stick to Nora myself. If I find her she can give me a pointblank 'yes,' or 'no' to all these inquiries about identity. I have published her portrait—got it from that Phoebe. I think she stole it, but that doesn't matter to me. I paid her well for for it. And now I must be off. Take mv tip and look for Nora Hardcastle."

guise unci my successful experiments, I had my name thrown at me in that careless, mocking fashion. Amazement was there, and rage also, with perhaps an admixture of terror, for my iirst impression was that my guest was an emissary of the police, and my first impulse to holt, and trust to the darkness for aiding me in my escape. Indeed, I was only deterred from that by the knowledge that if it were the police, all the ways of exit would be guarded, in which case my escape would be frustrated ,and the attempt only reckoned as adding evidence against me. "May I ask who you are, and who brought you here?" "Nobody brought me—l came. Don't stand looking at me as if you feared me ; we are both in the same boat. You have been in .prison, and so have I, and we both lost a fortune through it. My name is Andrew Casterman." For a moment or two the name conveyed nothing to my mind, but he soon elightened me. "So you see," he went on, "we are cousins, you and I, and both sufferers from the stony heartedness of Fate. I ought to have been a rich man, but, as it happens, Ephraim Turbutt collars the lot."

"You tire talking absolute 'Greek to mo," I put in, perching myself on the corner of the table, and offering him a cigarette. I had nearly regained my equanimity by this time. "If you are Andrew Casterman, I suppose you are the son of James Casterman, my mother's brother. But I did not know that lie had a son. I did not know that he was even alive." I had hesitated a moment or two as to whether I should brazen it out and declare that I was Chibnall, and not Normington; nor can I exactly say why I accepted my cousin's identification. Andrew rose slowly from his seat and stood gazing at me with an air that was very evidently astonishment. "Do you mean to say," he asked, "that you have never beard of my father's will-'" "I do not even know whether he be alive or dead." "You must have bene out of the world," he went on, resuming his seat. "No, I don't mean that—of course, I know that you have been at Portland, and elsewhere. But since then. Have you not seen Ephraim ,or his lawyer, Barlow, or didn't you see Vanneck?" "I have seen Ephraim—yes," I replied, ignoring the last part of the query.

I went from Staple Inn with mixed feelings. The police were on my track and anxious to discover my whereabouts. And all that was required to link me with the murder was some evidence that I was in Hampstead on that night. Could they find such ? I was in Hampstead, I was actually in the house, and a man in the garden had recognised me, and addressed mo by my name. If the police proved that I had visited the place, would Constance's evidence assist me? Would the jury believe her, credit the discerning power of her ears in the face of such a story? I, who in my own personal experience, had all too much reason for fear, doubted it. On the other hand, my visit to Harold Reckitt had been satisfactory inasmuch as my disguise had resisted even his sharp, penetrating glances. I Like the others he had accepted my story implicitly, and had not even harboured a suspicion as to my real identity. What was sufficient for him, for Joel Hudspith, and for Maynard Drew, might well be expected to baflle the police and to render me safe from their pursuit. I had sunk and destroyed for the time the man who had been Ronald Normington, and not a soul on earth could pierce my disguise. I reached my lodgings in Poplar ill'tor dark, and stumbled up the dilapidated staircase into my room, striking a match as soon as I had closed the door behind me. Then it was that I noticed for the first time that [ was not alone. A man, young, good looking, and well-dressed, was seated in a low armchair with his logs crossed easily, his hands iiolding poised a long thin malacca cane, with a gold and ivory handle. "Ah," he said, with an air of satisfaction, half mockery, half amusement, as I lit the gas. "Mr Ronald Normington, at last!" CHAPTER XXTV. MORE WOXDERS. I. could not describe in ordinary language the feelings that filled my breast as, despite my elaborate (lis- j

"And did he mention mv father's will?" "No." "H'm! then I must tell you the story, tlive me another cigarette, and then do not interrupt me until I am finished. It is a long story, but it can be told briefly. It is | quite true that I am your cousin, Andrew Casterman. Sly father was [ a very rich man—indeed, I am told that lie left three hundred-.thousand | pounds. But he and I were not the I best of friends. Eight years ago I I was sent to prison for three years [ for forgery." He said this with an air of coolness and tranquility, as if forgery were among the most ordinary and natural of the incidents in a man's > life. "My father was bitterly angry witli me, for he was a stern man, righteous in living, not unkind in ordinary matters ,but inexorable in his judgments. In the matter of this forgery I was innocent. . I had been a wild young fool—cards, horses, wine, and women, you know—the quartette of vices which so often afflict young fellows with more money than brains, but I had not committed that forgery. Nevertheless, it was proved against me, and during my trial the story of my life was told.' ' "You wove innocent of the forgery?" I asked. "Exactly; just as you were of the jewel robbery." "You think that?" I gasped. "I do; but I told you not to interrupt. I went to prison, and on my release, my later refused to speak to me—refused even to see me. He gave me five hundred pounds a year and made his will, by which the bulk of his money, a quarter of a million, at least, was left to three trustees ,two of them men of probity and position beyond question. They were to find you and hand over to you the money." J "To find mo! To hand to me the money ?' ' (To be Continued.)