A DESPERATE GAME

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10133, 2 November 1910, Page 2

A DESPERATE GAME

(OUR SERIALS

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 XXXIV.— Continued. He opened the door locking it again behind thorn when he had drawn her into the corridor, along which he led her rapidly on tiptoe with the preliminary and precautionary word, "Hush!" * a . _ . The passage ended in a flight ol stairs that went both up and down, but the man turned off ere they reached them and pushed open a door which led into a large storeroom filled with a miscellaneous assortment of trunks, books, old furniture and clothes. He locked this door behind them, crossed the room and entered another one that was absolutely empty save a single chair. ' "I have sent for Maynard Drew and his wife," he said. "They will not be long. You will be safe here until they come, and Turbutt- will not find you.' ' He locked the second door and passed out of a third on the opposite side of the room. And Constance waited. It cannot lie said that she actually trusted the man or regarded him as a friend; he had been too recently h:r captor, too much hand in glove with her worst enemy for that; but the terror of her recent interview with Ephraim Turbutt was still strong upon her, and for the time she was content to view this tiny room as a refuge, and not to examine too closely into the dark posibilities of the immediate future. A long time pased, a weary leaden.footed interval of waiting and inaction, and then she heard a rumble and murmur of voices. Whose they were she could not determine, and for a while she waited; but growing tired of-that at last she was just summoning courage to the extent of unbolting the door, when she heard the loud cries of women, the hoarse shouts of men, and the sharp, spiteful crack of revolver shots, followed by a dead silence.

Then, suddenly, there was a loud knocking at the door cf the room in which she stood, and a voice cried: "Open the door, Constance! Open it quick! It is I—Margaret,"

CHAPTER XXXV. SUICIDE. It was perhaps fortunate for the quartette assembled in Andrew Casterman'e Roger son's room that Andrew himself had been a wide traveller, and had been 'under the necessity more than once of extricating himself from desperate and perilous situations. Rapidity of movement and quickness of decision were two qualities that had been engrafted upon him by the stress of many a swift and sudden conflict with halfsavage men in all parts of the world, and when ho saw Turbutt and those two revolvers, it was but the work of a second to hurl himself with a loud cry at the figure in the doorway. But for all his speed, he was not quick enough absolutely to avert disaster, for Ephraim had time to fire two shots one of which shattered Andrew's left arm, while the other chipped a triangular fragment from the right ear of Nora. Had Turbutt fired before speaking, four lives might have paid the penalty; as it was the fragment of time he wasted there made all the difference between success and failure. Andrew's wound, severe as it was, was not sufficient for the moment to impede his progress ,and he brought his right fist with crashing force into Ephraim's face, reeling back himself the next moment, sick and faint against the doorpost. But he had made, the necessary diversion, and had given Maynard time to collect his wits.

Injured as he was, bandaged as he was, Maynard did not hesitate to take the risk; but wisely enough took also a weapon. On the table stood a decanter with a long, slender neck, and a thick, bulbous body. It was half full of whisky, and as Maynard reversed it, the liquor drenched his sleeve-and arm; but he did not heed that. Whirling it round his head he sprang in between Turbutt and his assailant, and ere the former had entirely recovered from Andrew's blow, the heavy glass bulb had descended with crashing force upon his temple, bringing him. down with swift and absolute collapse. Margaret and Nora had run to the assistance of Andrew, whose faintness, however, was but of momentary duration and lasted no longer than the time occupied in putting him in a chair. "Is he dead?" was Andrew's first question. Maynard bent over the fallen man, feeling, himself, a little sick at the idea that the blow might have been fata 1 .

"No," he said at Inst, not without satisfaction.

"Then drag him into the room," Andrew commanded. "Nora, you cut off this sleeve and bind this arm of mine. Take the revolvers from him

and mount guard over him"—this to Maynard—"and you, Mrs Drew, go through that other door, cross the corridor, and knock at the door with green panels. Miss Vanneck is in there."

Nora bound up her husband's wounds as deftly as the most skilful surgeon could have done, while Margaret fetched Constance ; and Maynard, with a revolver in one hand, tried to restore Ephraim Turbutt to consciousness. In "this, however, he was unsuccessful, until Nora, having completed her surgical task, came to his aid.

They sat Ephraim in a chair in one corner of the room, Maynard and Andrew in front of him, each holding a revolver, while the three women stood in a little group by the door. "And now," said Andrew, "let us discuss the situation." "It was all a lie, that story you told!" Ephraim cried. "Ah, that story—how much did you hear of it—how came you to hear it." "I heard all of it! I heard voices, and I stopped to listen. I heard all of it, and it was all a lie!" "Game to the last," Andrew murmured. "You mean to fight to the bitter end." "And even if it weren't a lie," Ephraim went on, "what do you prove? Nothing, simply, nothing." "I can prove a good many things more than you think. For example, we could begin with the attempt to murder me, and then wo could try back. . The abduction of Miss Vanneck would ,be an extra count, and then we should add the previous attempt, then the murder of Mr Vanneck, and after that, I fancy, it would be but a small thing to persuade a jury to swallow the Coyton jewel robbery. True, there our evidence is weak, unless Murgatroyd can be made to speak." "Murgatroyd is " Ephraim paused there, and his slow smile seemed to take on a more devilish cunning. "Murgatroyd is dead!" he went on. He dived his right hand swiftly into his vest pocket, and then carried it to his mouth. Andrew sprang from his seat and darted forward, hut Ephraim wared him back. "You are too late, my friend," he said sardonically. "Did you fancy I would play this desperate game without leaving a way of escape five minutes I shall be where Vanneck is, and Murgatroyd. You have the trump cards, and lucky for you. If you go into the large cellar you will see a slab of stone. Raise that and you will find Murgatroyd. I designed that you should join him tonight." Nora uttered a little cry, but Andrew only smiled. "As to the rest "

Turbutt stopped and drew a long breath, passed his hand once or twice over his brow, as if to clear away the mists gathering there. Then, with a sudden cry of anguish and horror, he stood with his arms flung out before him, as if to ward off an approaching evil, pitching forward the next moment, and collapsing at the feet of the man whose death ho had planned . with such fiendish cunning and calm. . "He is dead!" Andrew solemnly whispered, after a momentary investigation. "Get the women away. Take them into one of the rooms on the other side of the corridor. You and I must find Murgatroyd, and then we must go through this man's papers." * "We must see Foster Price to-mor-row." "Yes, hut let us first find Murgatroyd. '* (To he "Continued.)