“The Price of Silence,”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 25 January 1927, Page 7

“The Price of Silence,”

DRAMATIC, STORY OP LOVE, CRIME, and MYSTERY.

-BYPEED IT. WHITE, Author of “The Golden Bat,” “The House on the River,” “The Green Bungalow, ” “ The Crimson Blind, _etc., etc.

(COPYRIGHT.)

CHAPTER XXLl.—Continued. It. was with a grim smile on his face that Cecil went down the stairs again and turned into the library, there to kill time until the moment came when ho might walk down to the Oakes Arms and inform Summers that ho had come to share a simple evening meal with him. He had no desire whatever to 'See the other occupants of Priors Gate at the moment. It was not that ho feared Oakes so much as Primerv. He knew that the latter would be watching him as a cat watches a mouse, studying every gesture of his and weighing every word that fell from his lips. And he particularly did not want to betray himself .just yet. So far, he was under the impression that Oakes and his accomplice regarded him -as being absolutely ignorant of all that had hap•pened, where they were concerned. He was glad at last when seven o'clock came and he found himself in the open air, crossing the park in the direction of the village and the Oakes Arms. It was a long conference that he held in a private sitting-room of the pleasant, old-fashionned inn, and it. was quite late 'before he set out on 'his return journey. And when he got back, he was met with the intelligence that liis uncle and the latter's guest had departed to town on one of the cars not long after dark. It was good news 'to know that he had the house to himself. He came down in the morning fairly early and breakfasted alone in one of the smaller sitting-rooms, after which he smoked a contemplative cigarette or two, and then turned his face in the direction of the village. He was going to see Audrey, and expected, as usual, to find her seated in the garden.

But Audrey was nowhere to be seen. Instead of the girl and her usual work basket under the shadow of the cedar tree beyond the tennis lawn there sat, not Audrey, but the vicar himself, propped up in an invalid chair with a book on his knee. He was quite an old man, grey and withered, and one who had married late in life, so that he was bent and ■aged before Audrey, who was the light of his life, had come to years of discretion. For the last fortnight he had been confined to the house, and was now busking .contentedly in the warm sunshine. He greeted Cecil in the friendliest fashion, and invited him to take a seat by liis side. “I can’t stay very long,” Cecil said. “I am very glad to see you out again, Vicar, but I rather wanted a few words with Audrey. Shall I find her in tho house?” “No, I don’t think you will,” the old gentleman said in his thin treble. “You see, she is not at home, my boy. She is doing the work which, unfortunately, I am unable to .cope with. Old Mrs Shannon is very bad again, and Audrey is looking after 'her. She went off about nine o’clock last night, and she hasn’t been back since. Perhaps you would like to go along the road and meet her.” “You mean she has been out all night?” Cecil cried, aghast. “Precisely,” the old man said. “But it’s not the first time. Audrey is a wonderful girl in that respect,” Cecil stood there, unable to speak. "He had more than a shrewd idea why Audrey had not yet returned. CHAPTER XXlil— THE HOLE IN THE WINDOW. Cecil contrived to strangle /the cry that rose to his lips. It seemed abnost incredible to him that this rather senile old gentleman should regard Audrey’s absence the ■whole night through with smiling equanimity. But then probably it was not the first time and, in any case, Mr Venables knew nothing of the strange events which were going on almost within liig own orbit. But Cecil knew, all right. He did not want anyone to tell him that no ordinary circumstances were keeping Audrey all this time in a sick woman’s cottage. Knowing what he knew, he could see the sinister trouble lying behind. Yet, at the same time, he might be wrong, and the last thing ho wanted to do was to alarm the vicar in his present precarious stage of health. “I am sorry to hear that,” he contrived to say in an ordinary voice. ‘* No doubt Audrey -will be. back presently, in fact, I think I will walk down the road and meet her. But if .possible, I should like to have a word with Miss PtePa Prvor first.” “You will find her in the drawing room,” the old man said. Stella, a little more cheerful and like herself, was in the drawing room of the vicarage and not alone. A young man with a pleasant face was seated by her side and he rose with a smile of welcome, as Cecil stepped through the 'Open window. To tell the truth, Cecil was more than glad to find Stella’s fiance on the premises. He knew the lion. Mark Wickham well enough, and he felt that here was the ally that, before long, he would need. He contrived to get out of the room presently, and, at a sign, Wickham strolled after him into the garden, and from thence into the road. “Anything wrong, old chap?” the latter asked. “I am afraid so,” Cecil said. “I can’t stop to tell you now, but something terrible is happening, and I must get on the track of it at once. Now, would you mind, in the course of an hour, making your way as far as Priors Gate. Mv uncle is away, and so is that lame friend of his. Just ask for me, and say I am expecting yuo. That is all for the moment.”

“Certainly,” Wickham replied. “But look here, Cecil, is there any more of this mysterious crime in the offing Any more burglaries at Heron s Nest, for instance?” “I don’t think you need worry about that,” Cecil replied. “And, between ourselves, Stella v 7 ill have her pearl necklace back within the next two or three days. But that is. not the ■point. What I greatly fear is that something terrible has happened to Audrey. Not a word of this to her father or Stella, mind. I can go into details when 1 met you presently up at the house. ; ’ Wickham gave the desired assurance, and, with that, Cecil hurried along down the road. He was quite well acquainted, of course, with the cottage in which Audrey was supposed to have spent the night, and, office arrived'there, he opened the door and walked into tiie little sitting room, beyond which lie could see another room whore a clean and a very ■eld woman was lying in bed. •‘Hello, Mrs Simmons,” lie hailed her. “1 was passing by and I thought L would look in and inquire how you are getting on. I suppose Miss Audrey hasn’t been hero this morning, has she?” “ Weli, no, sir,” the old lady responded. “And I take it kindly of you to come in in this friendly way. I am better, that I be, and that I told Mi.ss Audrey last night I don’t think 1 shall need to worry her again, though she was good enough to offer to stay the night. But I couldn’t ask her to do that. ’ ’ Here were all Cecil’s worst fears confirmed. Audrey had been there the evening before and had evidently set out for her homo at a reasonable time. What that time was, it was Cecil’s business to find out. He approached the subject lightly. “'Oh, she was here last night, eh ” he asked. “I siqipo.se it wasn’t late when she left you?” “No, sir, but surely you know as much about that as I do? It were about nine, just when it was properly dark, when a boy come along with a note for her. She read it, and said she must go at once. And from a word or two she dropped/ 1 gathered as that note was from you, sir, and that you wanted to see her on some parish business up at the great house.” “Very funny how one forgets these tilings,” Cecil said with a carelessness ho was far from feeling. “I suppose it must have, escaped my memory, for I didn’t see her last night ,after all. I must go along to the vicarage and make mv apologies. ’ ’ Once outside tho cottage, it was not in the direction of the vicarage that Cecil turned his head. He" made his way across the fields at top speed in the direction of Priors Gate, cursing himself for his folly as he went along, because he had wasted the evening before at the Oakes Arms when it had boon almost imperative that he should keep an eye upon those- two scoundrels wliq had evidently, contrived to lure Audrey into some sort of a trap. There was no longer any doubt in liis mind that Primerv, with that uncanny instinct ‘of his, had guessed who it was that had followed himself and Sir Wilton to Heron’s Nest on the night of the murder. Audrey had seen them both and had managed to elude them when they set off in pursuit, but they were under no delusion as to. whom they were following, and were about to embark upon another form of crime so as to save themselves from punishment. It was a desperate tiling to do, but then those two were desperate criminals with the net closing round them and at any cost Audrey’s mouth must be closed until they had made their escape and got clear of the country. And that they were going to turn their backs on England once and for all, Cecil no longer entertained the slightest doubt. They had lost the pearl necklace, it was true, but they were getting away with a large amount of valuable property which they hoped to turn into cash at the earliest possible moment through the medium of Voglcr. That Vogler would turn them down mattered nothing for the- moment. Tho scoundrels did not know that yet, and, in the meantime, they would certainly vent their spite upon the innocent cause of their present discomfiture. Cecil had visions of Audrey, gagged and bound, and perhaps left in some secret hiding place until she could bo found, if she was found at all. Possibly Oakes had remembered one of the old hiding places in Priors Gate, where a victim might lie for days. Tie probably did not know all those hidden nooks and corners in the old house, it was obvoias that ho did not know tho secret way into the rose, parlour, or lie assuredly would have guessed tho trick that had been played upon him in connection with the stolen pearl necklace. But there were other secret ways besides that, and Cecil would explore the whole of them before lie slept that night, j.t would be time enough to raise an alarm over Audrey’s disappearance when he ' had exhausted all the resources at his own disposal. (To be Continued).