LADY CAREW’S SECRET

New Zealand Times, Volume LIV, Issue 12651, 11 January 1927, Page 4

LADY CAREW’S SECRET

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY

ANNIE HAYNES.

Author of “The Manor Tragedy,” “The Tale of Lady Hannah,- “Lent Lilies,”- “Pamela’s Cousins,’*- “A Pawn of Chance, &c., &c.

tc O P Y R I G H T.I

CHAPTER XXV, Talgarth was a pleasant old-fashion-ed house. Tradition had it that it had been built out of the stones from the walls of the convenV that had stood close by, and that had been pillaged and destroyed by the orders of the eighth Henry. For the past twenty years, Squite Hunter, from whom Stephen Orasster bought Talgarth, had. not had money to keep the old place up, and it had acquired a forlorn, neglected look. Stephen Crasster had projected wide-spreading improvements, but the tidings of Peggy’s engagement had taken the heart out of him. Inspector Furnival fou-nd Stephen in the -library when, in response to repeated invitations, he walked over to Talgarth one summer evening. CrassteF sprang up in surprise as “Mr Lennox’’ was announced. “Why, Inspector, this is ’a welcome surprise," he said, shaking hands cordially. “I have been looking over the notes of a case, and trying to make up my mind about it. You are just in the nick of time to give me some help with it." “Well, I don’t know that I shall he of much assistance, sir. It seems to me that my brain is pretty well addled ” the inspector laughed as he took the chair that Crasster indicated opposite liis own. “As a matter of fact, I have come up hoping that you would let me talk over one or two little matters with you—things that are puzzling me a bit.” “Are they in connection with the Abney Court case?” Crasster’s face had grown suddenly grave. His hand, as he resumed his seat, beat a restless tattoo on the arm of his chair. “Well, Inspector, what is it? Anything fresh?” “Well, it is and it isn’t, sir,” the inspector replied enigmatically. He drew out his notebook, and, extracting an envelope, handed it to Stephen. “This dime by this morning’s post.” Stephen looked at it curiously. It was addressed to Mr Lennox, at the Carew Arms, in odd-lobking handwriting—one that sloped backwards and was evidently disguised. “Well?" he said at last, inquiringly. “What sort of a communication is this, Inspector ? Ono would say at first sight that your correspondent did .not wish to be identified.” The inspector smiled. “Precisely the case, I fancy, sir. However, will you read the enclosure ?”_ Orasster made an involuntary movement of distaste as he drew out the thin oblong sheet of paper, and saw the crooked, misshapen writing inside. “If Inspector Furnival wishes to in quire into Lady Carew’s antecedents,’’ he read, “he will be able to get all the information he requires from Canon Rankin, of St. Barnabas’s Vicarage, Chelsea. The canon might also be questioned with regard to a mysterious visitor who came in one day this spring. These hints may be more useful to Inspector Furnival than anything he will obtain from the maid, Celestine, and they are offered for his consideration by a sincere well-wisher." Stephen read the rancorous words over twice, then he flicked the paper on the table contemptuously. “From Celestine herself?” he hazarded., The inspector smiled as he shook lus head. “No! Celestine hasn t discovered my real business here yet. That paper was bought in Chesterham .village, sir. I made it my business as soon as this epistle arrived to go round all the little shops in the neighbourhood and discover ' if possible where it was purchased. I ran it to earth at an old dame’s in Chesterham village. I laid in a stock of it myself. and the old lady was quite pleased, and sqid she would have to order, extra supplies, as it was quite wonderful how the gentry were taking to it.” . ' Stephen raised his eyebrows. Gentry?” lie questioned gently. The inspector laughed. “She said a lady, who was staying at General Wilto-n’s a week or two ago. came m / one afternoon, and bought a whole box.” “You surely don’t mean said Stephen; , Inspector Furnival nodded. Lady Palmer, sir. There can’t be any question about that. I have compared the writing too, with a specimen of hers, that I managed to get, and I don’t feel anv doubt at all that it is hers. My mind might not have gone straight to her, though, hut fo-r Celestine,”. he ad.:--d. candidly.. “She told me one m how Ladv Palmer was always asko g her questions about Lady Carew, and now f(he is a widow, and none too well off. and. Sir Anthony has come into the title and estates, nothing would suit Lady Palmer better than to get rid of Lady Carew. Do you take me. sir?" Crasster did not answer for a minute. He sat looking at the naper -, at last he raised his eyes. “How could Ladv Palmer have become possessed of the information that this note presupposes?” ,-i. The inspector shrugged his shoulders. “It is impossible to say, sir, otherwise than that probably Celcstino on her dismissal from Heron’s Carew did not hold her tongue. However that is neither here nor there. I brought this note to you to show that our time is short. Something will have to he done soon.” Stephen got up and threw open the window as though the atmosphere stifled him. “The woman must bo a perfect fiend 1” The inspector smiled as one tolerant of the idiosyncrasies of the weaker sex. “Ah, well, sir, when jealousy gets hold of a woman 1 There is something else I have got to show you. Mr Crasster.” Ho drew a small package done up in brown paper from bis pocket, and began to open it. When at last the inspector laid the opened paper upon ■ tlio table, be turned. “There, sir.” - Stephen leaned forward eagerly; then, as he saw the object lying in the midst of such careful unfolding, he looked amazed “Whv. what is this. Inspector P Surely nothing but an ordinary latch-key?" The inspootor gazed at it almost, affectionately ; thon he turned and glanced sharnly at the other man’s dark interested face. “It is Mr 0. Warden’s latch-key, sir, found in his pocket after death.” “OUl” Stephen looked puzzled. “I remembrf, it was among the contents of his pdekot. But T don’t see what you nro doing with it now, inspector. Where does it come in?” Inspector Furnival smiled quietly, not ill pleased. “Well, I think it will ultimately form an important link in our chain of evidence, sir. If you will examine it a little more closely I think you will come to the same conclusion.” Crasster picked un a magnifying glass, and laying the key on the table, bent over it a minute or two without Kniyikinss. At last he looked up. “I

see particles of wax adhering to the wards.”

Inspector Furnival nodded as he looked at him. “The inference, of course, being that someone had an impression in wax taken of the key or the look, or both.” " '

“Oh—of—course.” Stephen sprang to his feet in his excitement. “Then this clears Lady Carew. It proves——” “Nothing,” the inspector said curtly. Crasster, standing up now on the hearthrug with his back to the fireplaoe, glanoed at the other man’s expressionless little face. “It proves nothing except that another person, • probably not Warden himself, had taken means to procure a key to the flat,” the inspector went on after a pause. “It would count for nothing in comparison with the weight of evidence against Lady Carew. And yet it does give us a loophole ” “We must work it up,” Stephen exclaimed eagerly. “It gives me real hope, Furnival. My heart has been as heavy as lead these last few days, though I knew there wasn’t—there eould’nt be—anything in your theories. W’ith this we shall clear both Sir Anthony and Lady Carew yet.” “We may implicate Sir Anthony, it seems to me, sir,” the inspector said slowly. “For anything we know yet, sir.” “Implicate Sir Anthony 1” Crasster stared at him. “I said for anything we know yet,” the detective corrected. “It may he that Sir Anthony found out where her ladyship was going, and provided himself beforehand with the means of getting into the flat, and ascertaining what went on during her interview with Warden. Mind, I don’t say this is my view of the case, but it is one which has found some belief at headquarters. My chief is npt inclined to believe in the possibility of any third person being mixed up in the affair.” CHAPTER XXV—Continued. Looking at the detective’s impassive face, listening to his carefully modulated voice, Orasster felt his heart sink. He had been telling himself, ever since he saw the detective on the preceding Monday, that there must be some way out of the horrible impasse in which the Carews were involved. To-day, however, it seemed to Crasster that Furnival spoke as if the matter were one entirely out of his control, as if he had to some extent lost interest in it. At last Crasster spoke. “What are you going to do, now.” The inspector looked up as if startled from a daydream. “Well, I have a plan, sir. Not much of one, but still it may answer. I should have put it into- execution to-day but for this illness of the child’s.” “Child’s, what child’s?” Stephen questioned. “What child is ill?” Furnival looked surprised. “I thought you would have heard, sir. Sir Anthony Carew’s little boy. They telegraphed to London for a specialist an hour ago." “What? Ba.by Paul ill I” Stephen looked at him in consternation. “It must be terribly sudden. I saw him last night, he was all right then." ' “Children are like that,” the inspector observed philosophically. Stephen hardly heard the conclusion of the sentence. He looked at his watch, “You will forgive me, Inspector, I must go over and see how the boy is.” The inspector stood up and buttoned his coat. “I must b© getting back,' too, sir. There may be ‘ some news waiting for me. If you will be so good aj to give me a lift, I shall bo greatly obliged.” “Delighted, I’m sure,” Crasster said cordially; “Though I wish vou would stay, inspector.” “Not to-day, thank you, sir.” It was a drive of nine miles from Talgarth to Heron’s Carew, but Stephen’s powerful car made short work of the distance. The night was dark and threatening. The air was sultry, and heavy with the weight that presages the coming of the storm. To Stephen it seemed prophetic; the very elements were in sympathy with his mood, with the tragedy that overhung Heron’s Carew. He put the inspector down at th© Carew Arms, and drove on to Heron’s Carew. As he passed the Dower House he caught sight of a white figure) leaning against the gate. With a quick exclamation ho stopped the car and sprang out. ‘Peggy, what are you doing here?” “Waiting for Dr. Bennett.” The girl let him take her cold hand in his; she looked at him with (full, uncomprehending eyes. “Baby Paul is ill, you know; they say he is dying. They—Judith—sent me to tell mother, because she always loved baby Paul, and the shock has made her auite ill, so ill that I can’t leave her®and go back to Heron’s Carew. So I came down hero to watch for Dr. Bennett, to ask him—

“You poor child," Stephen said tenderly. “Let me take you back to the house, Peggy. I will go up to Heron’s Carew, and bring you word how he is.” She let him draw her arm through his and lead her up the drive. Peggy shivered, her fingers clung more closely tbo Stephen’s arm. “I—l am frightened, Stephen,” sho whispered. He looked down at her with a smile. “Of what, Peggy?” She gave a little hoarse sob. “Of—of everything.” “Of everything. Nonsense! child.” Stephen spoke in a tone of calm authority. “Little Paul’s illness has upset you, of course.”

Presently .there rose the long rumbling of distant tliunder. “There I” Peggy caught her breath. “It is coming. I can feel it. And—and—” She drew Stephen onward quickly. She looked up at him with big, fear-laden eyes ; her lips trembled : the hand lying on his arm shook as if with ague. “I have helped to bring trouble. What, shall I do, Stephen? What shall I do?”

Inside the hall door Crasster stopped dcterminedlv. “Yon are overwrought, tired out. Peggy. And there is thunder in the air. Tt upsets manv people. Promise me you will nut these fern's aside. and to-morrow, when little Paul is better—” Peggy Had drooped his arm now. She stood apart, her white face lifted to the sky. To his last sentence she opnarentlv paid no heed at all. “There aro other things in tlio air to-night as well ns thunder.” she said, breathlessly. “There is trouble and treachery, and—and worse. Tt is terrible not to know, to wait here and imagine +he horrors the darkness hides. Oh. Stephen, when shall ' v e—” A forked zig-zag tonrme of hlife flame .seemed to shoot right hetweoo them. ' almost simultau-onslv the thunder broke overhead, and pealed and reverborated around.

With a despairing cry Peggy turned and. rushed into the, house. CHAPTER XXVI. Dawn was breaking slowly, as the first rays of the rising sun filtered through the unclosed windows of the nursery. Judith, with her child in her arms, looked up wildly into the doctor’s But tho doctor’s expression wqs Sinecquitahle. liis watch was in his'draud, his gaze was fixed on the tiny waxen face. Sir Anthony stood opposite; daylight mad© him look haggard. There were wearied cirolea..,gC(VMid his eyes. Suddenly the' doctor stooped, looked more closely at the child iu Judith’s arms, then with an imperative gesture he pointed to th© whifieT'cot. “Lay him there,” ho whispered. “Nay, my dear Lady Carew, you must. ,It is most important that' he should have all the air he can possibly get.” Judith obeyed. Then she waited, standing Waited for the doctor’s word that ’ should bid her look for the fluttering of th© wings of the A,ngel Azrael. On the other side of the cot th© doctor stood, his eyes downbent on bis little patient.. Sir Anthony crossed over to his wife, he took her ice-cold hands in his. “Judith," he said, softly. “My poor darliqg.” * For the time being the dark abyss of sin and horror that lay between them was forgotten; they were not the estranged husband and wife now; they Were simply baby Paul’s father and mother watching together by their child’s sick bed. Judith let her hands rest in her husband’s; she, rested herself against him as if she were too much exhausted to stand alone. “Anthony, will lie live—will my little babv Paul live?” she questioned beneath her breath. Sir Anthony put ope strong arm round her and held her up. “Pray we may keep him, Judith, our littlo Paul,” he whispered, his whole frame quivering, strong man though he was. As in a vision all that the future might hold rose before her, the torturing shame, the horrible fear and disgrace. A long shiver shook her from head to foot. I “Perhaps it isi best," she said dully. | “Perhaps it is best, Anthony.” I She felt his form stiffen, then very gently lie nut her from him; he moved away and stood by the mantelpiece, waiting. Dr. Bennett was standing at the foot of tho cot, his eyes fixed intently upon the little patient. He bent forward now, then beckoned to the nurse, who was standing behind. She handed him tho cup from which she had been trying to get little Paul to tak© some nourishment, and with a spoon he managed to get a few drops between the parted lip*. Then he set the cup down on the table and glanced round. Sir Anthony stepped quickly to his side. Siirolv tile last moment had come, he thought, but the doctor looked beyond him at the mother’s face. “It is good news, Lady Carew,” h© said softly. “The once chance that I hardly dared to hope for, has come to pass. Nature is fighting herself, the stupor haa passed into natural sleep, and little Paul is saved. Please God he will do well now.” “Please God,” Judith echoed tho words mechanically, staring ’at Dr. Bennett as though her benumbed brain failed to grasp the meaning of the words, then her whole face quivered, she burst into tears. “Ho is going to live, our little Paul,” she gasped. Sir Anthony drew her to an easy chair, and mad© her Bit down. Dr. Bennett eyed her benevolently. “The best thing for her, sir; the very best thing, iny dear sir,” lie said m answer to Sir Anthony’s look of anxious inquiry. “Sho is worn out by anxiety and watching. Now, if you could get her to her room—l slio.il be here for some yours yet. and I want Master Paul kept ns quiet as possible." But for some time Judith resisted both his and her husband’s entreatieo to rest, to leave haby Paul to his nurse and the 'lector. At last, however the night’s vigil, coming on the top of licr previous weakness, made of her

compliance a thing outside her own will, and Sir Anthony half carried her from the room. She clung to him, a a he laid her fully dressed on the bed and drew th© quilt round her. “Anthony,” she whispered, “don’t leave mo. Stay with me here, where I can see you.” For the moment Sir Anthony hesitated; then he laid his hand on hers as he sat down beside her.

“Try to sleep, Judith,” hfe urged. “Nothing will do you so much good as that. And when baby Paul wakea we will call you.”

Judith closed her eyes obediently, but her brain had been so thoroughly overtaxed to rest at once; one thought obsessed it now; there was something she must tell. Anthony—sametiling she had promised to tell Anthony—but she o6uld not remember what it was.

Sh© turned feebly to her husband. “Anthony there is something yon ought to know—something I ought to toll you ” (To bo continued.)