THE STUDENT'S SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8449, 27 May 1907, Page 2

THE STUDENT'S SECRET.

CHAPTER lll.—Continued. While there was life there was hope. He had revived once. He might revive again. The hours of the night wore on. Julian Grey was still alive. They warmed the cold extremities They cut away the delicate linen, adorned with the diamond studs, and Pierre, with his accustomed touch, revived by gtntle friction the suspended circulation within the breast. Now that midnight had passed he might live till morning. Every moment was a gain. It was probably Dr. Doremus began to whisper, that there would be a momentary revival of strength and intelligence, a brief flicker before the flame went out foreve-. If that moment came there, was a chance that the cruel, criminal neglect of the past might be atoned. They watched and .vaited. The excitement, which prevailed during the early hours of the night in the sick room, was succeeded by a solemn silence as time wore on, and Julian Grey still lived. ! Sybil, in her ball dress, had not risen from her knees beside the bed. Mr Charteris sat with the unused pen and the unsigned paper, ready to place them at a moment's warning, before the dying man. The two physicians silently concentrated their skill in the task of keeping alive the expiring flame. Suddenly the voice of the sick man broke the silence. "Air," he"commanded. They drew the curtains and threw up the window sash. It was an hour or so past daylight. "The time has come," said Dr. Doremus, in a tone they all understood. Without delay he injected a stimulant in the arm ready bare for the purpose. Mr Charteris approached with paper and pen. Pierre raised his master in his arms. "Sybil, speak to him—calmly," said Dr Doremus, in a low voice, as the frosty air entered the room. "Papa, dear papa," whispered the girl. Julian Grey's features quivered with a smile. He was rational. He looked at his daughter with tender affection. Comprehending all, ho took the proffered pen. He hesitated a second, as if recalling something he wished to'say.

"Pierre, too, will remember —his — duty"—-ho said, weakly, but coherently. Mr Charteris adjusted the document and silently indicated the space left for the signature.

•1 Breathlessly the little group faced the crisis.

At that instant a sharp, shrill cry rang through the hall. It was the voice of Serpolette, Miss Grey's maid.

"In God's name," she shrieked, let him kill me!" She was in her bonnet and jacket, as though at this unseasonable hour she had just come in from the street. She was ignorant, it was evident, of the events which had been occurring during the night. As she uttered her cry she fell, overcome by fear, upon her knees, on the threshold of the chamber of death. At the same moment her pursuer overtook her. It was the man who Mr Grey in his library, the preceding evening, whose shadow as he went out had fallen across Sybil, where she stood concealed. It was the man who had plead for a favour to his daughter, and had been denied. At the sound of Serpolette's piercing shriek a faint convulsion passed through Julian Grey's frame. A film gathered rapidly over the look that had come into his eyes, .The hand which held the pen slowly relaxed slowly stiffened. Pierre, who stood supporting him, and Dr. Doremus, who was steadily watching him, knew that all was over —that Julian Grey was dead. CHAPTER IV. WOULD PIERRE DO HIS DUTY? Of all those who had witnessed the closing scene and who now stood grouped around Julian Grey's deathbed, Luke Jastrum was the first to recover himself. Slowly, but clearly, as he gazed upon the tableau, the whole meaning of the tragedy dawned upon him. His brain throbbed, his gloating eyes drank in every detail. He advanced cautiously, throwing furtive glances about him. He bent over the bed. His eyes were fixed upon the blank space on the parchment page which lacked a signature. The fatal omission was plain as day before him. Its meaning swept over his fevered.senses as the frosty air swept through the open window over his hot brow. Julian Grey had died without a will. Luke Jastrum, his second cousin, and next of kin, was the heir-at-law. Jastrum moved about the bed stealthily. His eyes sparkled with delight. He fully comprehended the horror expressed ,in Sybil Grey's fitful expression. Mr Charteris raised Sybil from her knees. 2£"My sweet child," he said, tenderly, "this is dreadfully sudden. It is crushing to us all. But there are those left who—who will try to—supply his place to you." Sybil, dazed with grief, and ignorant "of the worst phas-j of her situation, listened without understanding. Pierre, though finding his master's form a dead weight in his arms, had still continued to support it. When Jastrum advanced to the bedside the mulatto's eyes had instinctively fastened upon him, and when Mr Charteris spoke, a gleam of intelligence iercsd the heartbroken stunor of

By MRS W. H. PALMER.

his expression. Pierre suddenly remembered his master's last words. "Massa's dead —dead!" he mumbled, "but ole Pierre's work isn't done. Pierre's got to do his duty by those that's left. Pierre knows —he knows." . The old man laid the dead form reverently on the pillows. "Miss Sybil's got one friend left, even if he is black. "Pierre mustn't forget. He must do his duty." Naturally secretive, like most of his race he glanced suspiciously around him, and stole from the room, as if anxious to avoid notice. But there was one present whose notice he could not avoid—whose eyes followed his retreat as the eyes of the wolf follows its prey. Luke Jastrum controlled his tremor of exultation. He approached Serpolette, Miss Grey's French maid, who had for the moment forgotten her own peril in the trouble of those about her. "Follow me," he said, in a whisper of authority. "There is work to be done." The woman obeyed him in silence. She had reasons for wishing to propitiate him. "You see what has happened," he said, as they reached the foot of the staircase. "He is dead, and he has left no will!" Serpolette's lip curled. "It is not likely that he has failed to make some provision for Sybil! You don't believe he took the chance of making you his heir!" "He isn't the first man to live as if he was an immortal, and then die like a dog, without warning," replied Jastrum. "Yes, I believe that Julian Grey and I have changed places. Only think —that he should go out and I should come in." i "But," said the French woman, staring with a terrified face, "even if he left no will, there i,;ay be other papers." "There are none. If there were, they wouldn't have been trying—couldn't you see they were tying?— to make a dead man write his name!" i and Jastrum laughed at his sickening joke.

Serpolette shivered. She struck her hot head with her cold hands.

"I tell you, you're wrong. I dare say he may have left something undone that he meant to do. No doubt he did. But his money will never fall into your clutches. He's fixed it somehow. Now I remember. I have heard him talking to Pierre •" She paused suddenly and raised her finger to her lips. A step was approaching. Some one was coming down the broad stairs. The step came on irregularly. It paused from time to time, and then advanced. Serpolette and Jastrum retreated quietly to the doorway of a small reception room, and waited. The step grew nearer, over the velvet carpet, between the broadleaved plants with their flaming blossoms as they glowed in the pale daylight. "It is Pierre!" whispered Serpolette. "What, is he going to do?" They waited silently. Pierre, in his cautious descent, had reached the hall. The old man's hearing was not very good. He was indeed much older than he had appeared, and the events of the night had shaken him terribly. But his instinct of fidelity was as strong as ever. He had crawled away from the deathbed to execute the last commission he should ever receive from the man he had served so long. Serpolette was not mistaken. There were documents in existence which secured to Sybil Grey a daughter's right in her father's estate. But Julian Grey— fettered and bound in the toils of his sin—dared not admit the existence of these documents during his lifetime. Pie had to deny and conceal what he longed to declare. He had to wrong the living and wrong the dead. He had to outrage the claims of love and the sense of honour—to be silent when justice tempted him to speak. Why? Because he had sinned. And those who sin must suffer. These documents were of priceless importance and to confess their existence imperilled his interests. Once gone, they could never be restored. Embittered and suspicious, Julian Grey had preferred to trust these papers to his faithful valet—and to conceal their existence from everyone else. He had little thought, however, that the time could come when they alone would stand between his darling Sybil and a'dreadful fate. But, God disposes! Pierre crept onbearing concealed about him the priceless legacy which would secure justice to Sybil Grey. As he stole softly forward. Jastrum advanced to meet him. (To be continued.)