THE GARDEN OF LOVE.

Waipawa Mail, Volume XXXV, Issue 6153, 14 February 1914, Page 4

THE GARDEN OF LOVE.

pint Rights Rkshhved.]

BY BERTHA M. CLAY.

AUTHOR op ‘ T'e TVI v* t«-r v of Vot'd croft,” “The I'.vjL-.nny Neck -it/’ “ T lie Ironmaster’s L)a. filter,” “A Woodland Maid,” &c. Puif. siißn by Special Arrangement.

CHAPTER XXXII. “You ought to be thoroughly ashamed of yourself, Miss LinIcy!’’ Upton Warren spoke half repioaehi'ully, half angrily. “This i :'MUoronie parson! I feel like i crashing the man. After all, he is the merest puppet in your 'lands, and you alone are to “How dare you!” she panted. “A r-:n:uou detective —a —a “Oh, let’s have it!” He regarded her sternly. “I dare not utter what I think of you, sir!” “I’m sorry for that. I should like to know just how depraved you really are. Your thoughts about myself are quite immaterial to mo. I am concerned about .my friend, Allan Herrington, and tHe unhappy gentleman at the Priory —a prisoner in his own house. And 'now lie must suffer the abominable iii dignity of being marched off to the police-station upon the flimsiest information”—he made a savage gesture—“but I will put a spoke in your wheel if I ean.” “The unhappy gentleman is the murderer of my guardian,” Kate said. Her eyes blazed, her face was as white as paper. “And if the dea l mail’s son is so utterly lost tOr to— She sobbed.

“You are malicious—you are wantonly malicious. You don’t care a red cent, about your guardian, and your '..irbarous spite is directed wholly against Miss Miriam Eastwood. Don’t you realise how pitifully small you appear in the eyes of those who understand?”

“I will not be lectured by you. Will.you leave the room?” “No; the library is common to Allan Herrington’s guests, and I have a letter to write.” “You are a brute!” Kate rose, and walked to the door. “I hate you! You—you—have dared to make love to me, and this is your revpnge because I despise you.” “Never mind, Miss Linley, you’ve got the parson in leading strings,” he said, flippantly. “If you will be so good as to leave me to a little quiet, I will write my letter, and then T intend warning Mr. Eastwood—if I am not too late.”

lie saw her go, and then he sighed. He looked fondly at the space where she had been, and he kissed the hook she had tossed aside in her anger.

“I spoke plainly and severely,” he reflected—” perhaps too severely, hut she deserves it. I thought better of her; but she’s only human, after all. Breathes there a man or woman whose every action will hear the honest light of day? No! We are all hum-bugs, more or less, and one cannot he too charitable towards one’s fellow-creatures. ... I must hide this from Allan if I can.” He bent over the library table and scribbled away for a few moments, as if for dear life; then he looked at liis watch and jumped up. It was five o’clock, and he heard the automobile at the door. He slipped through the open French window, and jumped into Ihe car. Away it flew along the

drive, out into the wide road, and down the hill to the village. “We’re free-wheeling.” Warren remarked to the chauffeur.

“Forty miles an hour, sir. You told me to drive like Lucifer.” “I didn’t know that his Satanic highness went so fast.” The chauffeur grinned. You’ll exonerate me if we’re summoned, sir?’-’

“We are on our own ground. Village policemen go for strange cars and strangers generally.” Flash went the automobile through Castle Stanford, but the people had ceased to wonder. So much had happened within the last two weeks that they were getting curiously apathetic. Their senses were completely dulled, and Tom Parkes, of the Castle Stanford Arms, had been heard to swear that he was “fed up.” Whiz it went past the crossroads, -and hurtled up the white hill to the Priory. Obeying a previous order the chauffeur brought the machine to a halt when within a hundred yards of the South Lodge. “Excellent time!” exclaim*! Upton Warren. “Don’t hurry quite so fast on the return, and call here for mo in sixty minutes’ time'.” The automobile swung round and started homeward, and Warren walked swiftly in the direction of the lodge. His keen eyes swept the drive, and he smiled. “I believe that I am in luck, unless these trees hide the parson.”. He assumed a leisurely pace until within view of the house; then he slid like a streak to the door of the tower, Sand rapped upon it absurdly. It was like beating time to the first line of a popular song. Then he waited, hut his usual calm was a hit ruffled. “Coming!” he muttered, with exhilaration. His ear was glued to the door. ‘ 1 Oh, do hurry up! I can hear footsteps in the drive.” There was a very faint sound from within—the turning of a key in the lock. How well the locks and bolts had been oiled! Then the door opened a few inches, and Upton Warren clashed it wide, shot through it, and shut it again with almost lightning speed. “That was a remarkably near thing,” he said. “Please excuse me, Miss Eastwood.” He inhaled a deep breath. “Your father is—er —well?” Miriam was staring at him, her eyes wide with fear. .“Don’t be alarmed,” he went on rapidly. “I am a friend — yonr father’s friend—Allan Barrington's friend. S-sli!” His manner, his words were incomprehensible to Miriam; and when the door was again rapped, precisely as he had rapped it, she turned upon him swiftly. “Open it, please!” “No, Miss Eastwood, an enemy is at the gate. Go in advance of me, and tell your father that I have news—urgent. My name is Warren; I am Allan Herrington’s chum; we were comrades at college.” The knocking was repeated, and both flew up the spiral stairway, where Charlie Eastwood was glooming over his tea. He rose in anger and amaze when he saw a stranger; then he listened with sullen eyes, and now and then interjected savage words. “Pish I So the curate is partly responsible for this,” he growled. “Why should I not admit these mqn ? Why should I not let the curate feel the weight of this right hand of mine?” “There’s a police cell at the other end of the argument,” Warren reminded him. “You are chargod with the crime of murder. Don’t dream of obtaining bail. Look!” He opened a pocket-book

and displayed some finger prints, cunningly reproduced, and developed. “These belong to the man who struck down John Berrington with your blackthorn stick, and these same finger prints were made by an old criminal named G eorge M arkham. ’ ’ "I am glad that, Stella was innocent of that,” thought Eastwood. He breathed hard. “It’s very wonderful,”-he said. “And,” proceeded Warren, “I might be able to demonstrate a few facts to the minds of the policemen at the door, but I am not prepared to run the risk unless it is your wish.” He opened his pocket-book at another page, and displayed a tiny leaf of sensitised paper. “Press your lingers upon that, Mr. Eastwood—gently —so. Thank you!” He examined the imprint through a powerful glass, and laughed. “As different as chalk from cheese. Our man is flying to Southampton as fast as triple expansion engines can carry him. Once he is in the grip of the police the suspicion surrounding you, Mr. Eastwood, will vanish like mist in a whirlwind.”' Charlie reckoned swiftly with his chances, and snapped his fingers. “I will not suffer the indignity of being hailed before the Justices of Castle Stanford. An Army Captain is his dotage, a brewer of had beer, and a provision man . who lias made money out of potted sausages. By Jove, no! These men are all enemies of mine, or no warrant would have been issued. Money won’t bridge the social gulf which divides us, and I refused to sit on the bench with snobs. By heaven, I’ll make ’em smart for this! Now what’s to do, Mr. AVarren 1 ’’ The detective was puzzled, and glanced helplessly from Mr. Eastwood to his daughter. The knock- ■ 'ing below was becoming insistent. ; “I didn’t count upon the seige beginning so soon. Is there any 1 other way out of this trap?” Eastwood shook his head. - “One, hut the door is barred on ■ the other side. If Simmonds know ” ! “Papa, I will tell Simmonds. 1 These men dare not interfere with ' me, Let me go now!” Miriam sprang to her feet. “I think it can be done,” said Warren. “I must go too. I pro- " mised Allan that I would motor ' to the colliery at seven .... What " shall you do then, sir? Out of the frying-pan into the fire?” “Trust me,” laughed Charlie. ' He was rubbing his hands to- * gather now. The chase was ex- ; hilarating. “I know the secrets of tlie Priory too, well. Away you go, Miriam, and meet me on the ' other side. Since the woman from ! Biarritz has gone my oatli to Roseuberg is all right.” ! Upton AVarren comprehended. “Come along, Miss Eastwood, k If they attempt to rush the .door * “Oh, I’ll stand behind,” Charlie ■ growled, “and slam it goes after * you.” 1 Downstairs they went, and Mi--1 riam’s heart was plunging almost 1 to suffocation. The detective’s eyes shoue, but his face was grave. Eastwood was furiously mirthful. ■ “One word,” whispered AA rar- ■ ren. “I won’t leave until I see J you out of this. If a man is guard- ! ing the other door?” t “Let me loose, and I’ll make short work of him. Dash the ; law! I’m in the right; I have - done no wrong, and they shall ■ soon know the stuff that Charlie 'Eastwood’s made of.” AA’hieh was ■unreasonable and unconvincing. c j Breathlessly they paused and

listened. The knocking Had ceased. “Now,” said Warren. He drew Miriam directly in front of hinj, and pulled open the door. In a flash they were outside, to find that the policemen were holding a parley a considerable distance away. There were two in uniform, and a plain-clothes man. The latter very promptly pounced upon AA'arren, and spoke severely. “My dear fellow. I positively don’t understand your jargon. Obstructing you in your duty? Oh, well, break in the door, and be dashed to you. Take my arm, Miss Eastwood. I am dying for a cup of tea.” Miriam was shaking in every limb. She walked' unsteadily to the house. “Now,” Warren whispered, rapidly. “You get Simmonds or somebody to work on that door. I must stay here; and talk to the man with the warrant.' He is after us.” “Oh, yes—yes!” And away Miriam, flew. CHAPTER XXXIII. “Be civil, and be discreet,” Upton AVarren said to the officer. “Turn your head the other way; it will be worth your while.” “I shall report you.” “I don’t think you will. lam known at Scotland Yard. See here. ’ ’ He exhibited some papers —he had a sheaf of them, neatly folded and banded. “I was sent down here to bring home a murder to Charles Eastwood, and I have proof that he is innocent.” Tho officer squirmed. He clapped a hand over the pocket containing his warrant. “Still ” he began. “Yes, keep as still as you can. Don’t he in a hurry; you can’t arrest a man before you have him discovered. The right man will be caught—he is trapped now. I will be responsible, and you shan’t lose anything.” “What am I to do?” “Hammer on yonder door; gp where you like; do what you like, but don’t see anything.” “If you didn’t represent the Yard ” “But I do.” He slapped the man on the shoulder. “Honour bright?” There was a nod of complete understanding, and AVarren went indoors. His bump of location was enormously developed, and swinging past the wondering butler he walked with unerring scent to the scene of operations. Simmonds was working with bit and brace for dear life. Down came the steel rods, and open went the door into the tower. At the same moment a terrific assault was made upon the other door. Warren smiled, and whispered to Miriam: “It’s all right; that is mere bluff. I’ve squared our man. Mr. Eastwood has only to keep out of sight.”

Charlie stumbled into the corridor, the light of battle in his eye. “Telegraph for our legal man, Simmons. No more hiding away. I’ll fight these people to the death, and the Lunacy Commissioners will soon be busy with some of them!” lie took his daughter’s arm. “I am going to my own room—or any other room lor that matter.” To be Continued). G.L 27.