A DEEP GAME. OR THE HONOUR OF THE TREVELLANS.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10562, 19 February 1912, Page 2

A DEEP GAME. OR THE HONOUR OF THE TREVELLANS.

OUR SERIAL.

V By Mrs Do Winter Baksr, Author of "The Sin of Carina," "sir Blandford's Protegee," "For Weal o*r vVoe-," etc n

CHAPTER XXXll.—Continued. A thin, shrewd-looking man, in soft tweeds and a felt hat —between thirtyfive and forty years of age—stepped down from a first-class compartment as the train drew in, and wrung his host's hand heartily. "Jolly good of you to ask mo down, Eric. Town's perfectly ghastly at present —with the heat and dust." "Very glad to see jo\i, old fellow, 1 ' was Eric's ibeaming rejoinder, as he led his chum away to the dogcart. Norman Cole's suit caso was safely deposited under the seat of the cart, and a moment later they were bowling merrily toward Trevcllan Castle. As .-fflicy neared it, Eric's guest expressed his pleasure in glowing terms. 'So you have a mystery within these solid walls, eh?' he smiled, as they swung up tiio gravel drive. 'Rather —but I won't 'bore you with it at once. -Come in and have a whisky and soda and a smoke." They jumped from the trap and entered the castle. As they approached the smoking, room at .the fartlier end of the (hia.ll, Norman. Cole paused to adlriiire the handsome chapel screen. At this instant it opened to reveal Mark Jason. The chaplain oast an enquiring glance at the stranger and slunk away up the stairs. "OddJooking cuss that!" Cole remarked when they were safely esconsed in the smoking room with drink at their elbows. Jason? He is the castle clliaplnin—at ileast thait is what he calls himself. Yes —he figures pretty prominently in my mystery. Oh —by thi way—you won't mind nob meeting my mother, will you? I —er —she is suffering from, a nervous •attack or something. I tried to get a message to her, telling her that you were coming, but her attendant says she is to be kept quiet." Norman allowed no sign of surprise to "betray itsdlf. He replied in tactful terms, and tried to head his chum toward the castle mystery again. He was all impatience to (hear about it. "Lot's hear the mystery now, Eric," ho 'went on. "Don't be afraid of boring me, old man. I am bristling with curiosity—although an amateur detective is not supposed to harbour such crude feelings," he added laughingly;. Erio crossed his legs and knocked the ashes out of his pipe thoughtfully. "It's iather .a Jong story,' lie started "hut I'll try and make it as short and clear as possible. There are two people in this flibuse whose presence irritates and puzzles me beyond measure. One is Jason—the ana a you saw just now coming out of the chapel; the other is •a woman —Grace Omer by name—who is i supposed to be my mother's >atten- . dant. These two individuals have a ■' mysterious influence'over my mother. I have noticed it for some years now, j hut I so rarely come down that I have ; not noticed it much till this time. The ..other night I was out in the grounds I -taking a breather about /midnight, and " I saw a figure, >aill in wJiite, flitting down one of the avenues-—the Lime i'Tree Walk as we oalFit. This was the i-second time that this figure had been f seen—-t'he first occasion being when my : fiancee, Miss Lett-ice Lascelles, saw it . from her bedroom window in the same I avenue, about a week ago. Miss Lascelles went down to the Lime Tree ! Walk the next mornng and picked up a handkerchief embroidered with the , of idea that a young girl called. 'Marname "Margaret," and which she made over, to me. "Subsequently she went away. She is in Paris now —I think I told you in my letter. Some nights later I saw I this figure in white myself and gave chase, but. the thing vanished into thin i air. Next morning I tackled Omer | and Jason in front of my mother, and produced the handkerchief. I demanded to know who 'Margaret' was, as we Jiad no maid of /that name in tho castle ; Omer claimed the handkerchief, and said her. other name was 'Margaret' —and that it was she who had. been walking in the avenue at midnight. There was nothing for mo to do but to believe her. But now comes a puzzh'i' —Mrs Par/it, tho housekeeper here. ■& most trustworthy soul —tells me that she suspects that a separate establishment is being kept up, as food is ordered that never appears on our .table or on tho servants' table." ' Speaking in subdued tones Eric now went on to repeat Mrs Parfitt's story about 'Grace Omer and the leg of mutton. "So my theory is this," ho concluded. "I. don't believe that it was this Grace Omer that I saw in the Lime Tree Walk that night. I have -a sort garot is being concealed in the castle, and that Omer and Jason are in the secret. Further, I believe that this 'Margaret" is tho main lever in tiio'control that Jason and Omer have over my mother. Now—do you think you can make anything of what I have told you? Oh! —by the way, I have jotted down a few tilings that I think will help you." He pulled out his. pocketbook and opened it, passing it across. ! There was silence in the room while the keen, tawny eyes of.Eric's friend perused the pencilled memoranda, puffing slowly at his cigarette the while. At this moment there was a knock , at the door, and tho butler entered the room, bearing a lot-tor for Eric on a silver salver. "Afternoon post, sir." Ho handed over the letter and retired. The young baronet-glanced at the unfamiliar handwriting and at the London postmark. Observing that Norman was still ; busy with the pocketbook, he slit the I envelope and took out the letter. Turn- I

I ing to the signature at the end, he j found it was from Adcl-aide Lascelles. ' This is ,vhat he read, his face growing whiter and whiter as he read — "DEAR SIR ERIC—I am afraid you have been duped or Lettice is playing games with you. She is a bit of a madcap, I know. The note you ennoiv return, was certainly never writton, by Lettice, although it is a clever imitation of her writing. Moreover, she has no friends in "Paris to go to, and would be hardly likely to cross to the Continent by herself. "No doubt you would like to see me. Will you come up to town, or shall I come down and see you? Please wiro —I aina little bit nervous, of course, though-1 make no doubt that-my sister is safe wherever she is. "Yours sincerely, ADELAIDE LASCELLES. "Good heavens —what is the' matter?" Cole had caught sight of his friend's white face and the look of alarm. "1 shall want your help now in earnest now, old man !" was Eric's reply, io handed tho letter across with a hand-that shook visibly. ' ' CHAPTER XXXIII. __ NORMAN COLE'S THEORY To say that Adelaide's letter camo as a thunderbolt' to Erio is only put ting it in a very meagre way. For a long time ho sat m his chair, too dazed to utter -a sound, hardly, comprehending the meaning of the words he had read. Norman Cole perused the letter about a dozen times, turned his .attention to the enclosure that had been returned with it —the forged note from Lettice. He cleared his throat with solemnity scarcely knowing what to say. "I won't worry you with expressions if sympathy, Eric. You know wiliat I feel /about this," was his observation at last. "Besides it would be .a waste ,-of time. Let's get ahead at once. I want every bit of information you can possibly give 'me about Lettice Las- , celles, your fiancee. No detail is too trifling, remember. Come —if you want I my help, I must have yours." Eric raised his head, and the woebegone expression left his face as his eyes mot those of his old dhum. Their hands met in a firm grip. The grasp seemed to electrify the young baro--1 net into another being. "Oomo along; let us be off!" he almost shouted. "Off? Whereto?' asked Cole. "Why, in search of her, you old silly. 'She •must he somewhere in London. Perhaps-, -she has had an accident and is concealing it from me — bless her dear little heart. Perhaps she »> . Erio found himself firmly taken by the shoulders and forced into the chair Norman resumed his chair unruffled ■ by this operation. "Easy—-easy. Pull yourself together old chap. I know exactly how you feel just now. Here—rhavo another drink, will you?" He leaned /across and poured out somo more wlhisky. 'Now,' he continued, when Eric had gulped down the raw spirit, "try to. keep calm. I want to hear everything from the very first you met Miss Lascelles." Still excited to such a degree that to sit still and talk was positively torture tohim, Eric began to relate his story in quick, jerky sentences. . After all, thero was very little to tell, he. found. It was surprisingly little, when he was talking of the girl who had promised to be hjs wife. Cole listened silently to the end, and then, began to question sharply. "Heiress, you say?' ' "Yes, she comes into a large' sum of money on her twenty-first birthday.'"' 'How old is she? Excuse the question. It's necessary.'' "Nineteen and a few months." "Did your mother know that Miss Lascelles was an heiress when she en-gaged-her?" "Yes." " 'Anyone else hero in the castle likely to know?" ■'" "The mater would-probably tell 0- » - .- flier. Cole lifted,his straight eyebrow* ever so slightly. "This farewell letter'—he held up the forged note-—"how did you get a hold of it?" "I was waiting to drive Miss Lascelles tosthe station when it was ha'r.dI ed to me." "By whom?" "By Omer-." ! The eyebrows went higher still. "Yen noticed nothing funny about the writing?" •How'should I? I had never seen tho girl's handwriting before." 'Did you show the letter to any one?" "Yes —to my .mother." "Would she know Miss Laseelles' handwriting?" "Presumably. -Miss Lascelles musthave written a number of letters for her." "Did Lady Trevellan pass any coinmort \ipon it?" "None —but then her eyesight is not good." " . ' . Colo pan «v> for-a to oonsid- *-' "Now, let's see tne telegram you got announcing her departure I'nr P:'.u>,' : no went on. (To be Continued.)