LOVERS THREE.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXXV, Issue 3802, 12 April 1913, Page 5

LOVERS THREE.

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]

BY ARTHUR APPLIN

(Author of “Robert Ailcs’ Wife,” “The Stolen Heiress,” “The Chorus Girl,” Etc.).

CHAPTER XV

SIN IS OBSTINATE

Peter Gate grumbled at having to walk to the railway station from Phyllis Carlyle’s -.house. Buhner shrugged lus shoulders, and, still keeping a grip on Sin’s arm, strode quickly along the P3tii through the wood, Ila 1 i way through he stopped and faced Gate. “It’s a. pity it’s too dark to make a thorough search to-night, while we’re hero and with this fellow.” ' I cian seo in the dark. I'll search if you like,” Sin muttered, under his breath. “But I don’t think you’ll find much.” Buhner shook him roughly. “Joee, I can’t conceive how you failed to have a search made. Gate, directly you were approached,” he continued. “Remember, I’ve had to trace the missing man step by step right up to the front door of Miss Carlyle’s bouse, as it wore. If I’d only known last night what I know now ” he broke off impatiently. “Well, we’d better be getting back. Me’ve got something

to work on now—unless this gentleman”—again he shook Sin—“cares to spoak and make a frank confession at once.”

The muscles of Sin’s body were flab-

b.v. When Bulmer shook him it was like shaking a dead body or a half empty sack. There was no resist-

“Confess?” He repeated the word sleepily. “Mhat dp you mean? I told you I had nothing to say —yet. W hen I've followed up the clue I’ve got and found ia little more proof, then 111 place both in my employer’s hands. I’ve nothing to say to you, Mr. Bulmer, or to Scotland Yard.” “We may have a lot to say to you, though,” Bulmer retorted between his teeth. He gave Sin a push. “Now, walk on ahead; but don’t go too fast, and don’t miss the path.” "Without a word Sin reeled ahead. One hand was thrust in the breast pocket of his coat, as if for warmth or protection. There was a little slit in the lining cf the pocket, and through this the flattened piece of lead he had found, in the tree trunk had dropped, when Bulmer made his rough-and-ready search. tSj n felt it bobbing to and fro inside the lining. It was a pity about the live-pound note, but that bit of lead wa.<*far, far more important.

For Phyllis kept a little revolver at the bottom of her jewel case, which Bulmer had seen, j He had seen and handled the cartridges too. And Bulmer was one of those dangerous people—a clever fool. His intelligence was confined within a very thick skull. As S'in stumbled and reeled up the path through the gloom the wood he heard the two men talking in undertones. Bulmer whispered with warmth, like a man on the verge of making a great discovery, restraining his feelings with diflieulty. But Peter Gate’s words dropped like a hammer falling on cold steel. Sin listened. His ears, accustomed to the silence and solitudes of nature, could hear and distinguish sound hidden from other men. When his mind was alert and keen his body became weak and helpless. * He was not intoxicated; he was not acting now. Ho was hardly conscious of physical things, of himself or his surroundings. Sooner or later he would have to fight those two men—light them with his wits.

And lie would fight for Phyllis. He mouthed the name lovingly. It was redolent of the fields and moorlands and the sweet, clean things of the woods.

He wondered whether ho could trust Peter Gate. He knew he could not trust Buhner; he was just a'dull, unimaginative, human bloodhound, without the sagacity and gentleness of the animal. Gate was different. Beneath the armor-plate of steel there was certainly a quick, responsive, brain. And there might he a great heart. Bulnier was speaking, and Sin could not help chuckling to himself as he caught a few disjointed words: “Might be —best—hand him—to tire police.”

And then the metallic tones of his former school friend: “Jumping to conclusion, Buhner—remember —in my employ.” ‘ ‘ lie m ember —d utv —to do.”

. Again Sin chuckled. AYliat different interpretations different men had for that word! Duty! A hard taskmaster—.a faithful friend.

The journey back to London was taken, in silence. The three men found an empty compartment. Gate and -Bulmer sat facing the engine, while Sin curled himself up on the opposite seat.and went to sleep. But no one spoke. At first Sin-tried to read their-thoughts, and he partially succeeded, for he realised they both suspected him. Of what he did not quite know —of theft, of murder. It would have been rather a good game if lie had not been in love. And so he slept like a dog with one eye and one ear open.

“I don't believe the fellow's really drunk.’’ Bulmer whispered, as the train crept into Baker Street.

“I don’t believe lie’s ever sober,” was Peter Gate’s retort. A taxicab was called, and they drove to Gate’s private house, and entered the study. The moment had come when Sin would he asked to explain, and would refuse.

For a few minutes Gate was busy on the telephone.

“Now then, I propose to have a little oliat alone with Mr. Sin,” lie said, when lie had finished. “Do you irnmr leaving us, Mr. Bulmer?” , The detective from Scotland Yard stroked his bull-dog chin. Ho maoe objections. Gate over-ruled them. “I must have an explanation as w/ how that live-pound note came into Sin’s possession,” Bulmer said obstinately. “When I’ve had an explanation it may bo necessary for me to place him under tarrest.”

“You must do what you think fit,” Gate replied. “For the moment lie is my servant, and I’m responsible for him. I shan’t interfere between you

and your duty. I’ve invited you to my house to try and elucidate this mystery; you must let me go to work in mv own way.”

Bulmer shrugged his shoulders and left tiro room. Directly the door closed on him Gate turned to Sin. “Now then, you blundering fool! I shall want a complete explanation of to-day’s work presently. But first of all, tell me where you got this banknote.”

“There’s a thumb-mark in the lefthand corner. I should say a servant or a laborer had lingered it. the sort of person who licks his lingers before turning pages. His hand must have been stained or earthy; probably he was counting a bundle of notes, and this was the first.” Gate did not reply at once. He held the note up to the light, then laid it on the table, and looked at it through a magnifying glass. “I asked you how it came into your possession. Answer me.” “A broad, spatulatc thumb, obviously, therefore a man’s. A man who earns his Jiving by the sweat of his brow.” “Are you going to answer me or not ?’’ Sin slowly made a tour of the room, as if hunting for something. Eventually he stopped in front of Gate. “I can’t tell you yet. You thought I might be useful to you, so you brought me here. lam being useful, but I must go to work in mv own way. That five pound note is not the only cilue I’ve discovered. But if Bulmer gets hold of'them lie'll bungle. Let me got to work in my own wav.”

Ggte made an impatient gesture

“My good fellow, you don’t seem to realise your position. Bulmer thinks it’s perfectly certain that you know what’s happened to lehbert. He was seen to enter the wood alone, and you yourself have confessed you were hidden there. He has not been scon alive since. He had ia large sum of money in his pocket in Bank of England notes, and an extremely valuable diamond pendant. Two of these notes have been traced, and to-day the third conies to light in your possession.”

Sin nodded. “So it’s obvious that I did away with lehbert, and robbed him! But I hadn’t any money on mo when you found me, had I, Gate? And you had a good look through all iny worldly possessions in my little camp. And to-day I had to borrow a half-sovereign from your butler to get down to Pinner.” Peter Gate, looked at his watch. “Are you going to tell me where you got that live-pound note from, or not ?”

. “Not to-night. Perhaps to-mor-row. 1 tell you I've several threads —when. I’ve woven them together you shall know. If Aaron lehbert or the jewel is discovered yoiY shall get all the money, and all the honor. This game to which you’ve introduced me is amusing, and I want to play it in my own way. I may play it for you, Gate, but not for any fool from Scotland Yard. He’d bungle. He has bungled already. He wants to arrest me.”

Peter Gate crossed the room, opened the door and called to Bulmer.

“Me will arrest you,’’ be said quietIv to Sin.

Sin yawned, and taking one of Peter Gate’s cigars from a box, sat down in an armchair and lit it.

(To be Continued on Monday)