"Fetters of Silence,"

Waikato Times, Volume 90, Issue 14088, 18 June 1919, Page 7

"Fetters of Silence,"

(All Rights Reserved.) i

BY HAROLD AVERY, Author of “An Armchair Adventure,” “ Captain Swing,” “ Out of tlie Running,” ‘‘Fire, Lock, and Steel,” “In Days of Danger,” &c.

Published by Special Arrangement.

CHAPTER XXll.— {Continued 8 Some xnstinct warned Judith Weir that there was mischief brewing, and that it would be to her young master's interest that she should lcara what was afoot. She strained her ears to listen. Cording laughed again ; that was audible enough,, but the remark of his compaion which had provoked this loud guffaw had been a mere, unintelligible murmur. Judith drew back a pace, and stood thinking. Should she creep round to the front of the cottage, and put her ear to the keyhole of the door? Stay —here was a simpler and safer way out of the difficulty. Adjoining the little kitchen was a sort of pantry, the small window of which was close to where she stood. She crept towards it, and with a throb of inward satisfaction found it open. A moment later, taking infinite pains not to make the least sound, she was groping about in the dark for something to stand on, and at length found what would suit her purpose —a wooden tub. She placed it against the wall of the cottage, and, using it as a platform, found that she could poke her head in through the open pantry window. The door leading into the living-room was ajar, and the conversation going on at the table was now distinct enough for her to hear every word. "Have another glass, mother," Cording was saying. "It'll do you good. It's not the same as your cowslip wine, but it's good stuff, I can tell you, or I shouldn't have brought it." The old woman at first protested, but, from the sounds which followed, was evidently persuaded in the end to have her glass refilled. There was a pause, then the visitor spoke again. "Well, what is it you're going to say? Come on —out with it." "You'd better leave him alone. He's done you no harm, and he'll be gene to-morrow morning." "How d'you know that?" "Oh, I knows. There's not much that happens round here but comes to me sooner or later." 'That's not enough for me' I want to know why he's going." The woman laughed harshly, hut did not reply. She was evidently not inclined to speak, and Cording determined to try the effect of a piece of bluff founded on what he had learnt from Wilmot. "If you don't tell me, I shall find out some other way. I daresay I know more than you think,already. See here, I'll give you a lead. What is it they've got in the house that they don't want other people to see? Perhaps you don't know yourself." "Who told you that?" inquired the woman in a low tone. "The same person who will tell me the rest of what I want to know if you don't." "Then why did you come to me at all?" "That's my business, but here I am, prepared to give you the first chance of making a bit if you're so inclined." The speaker paused. He seemed to he doing something, and a few moments later there was a jingle as of coins being emptied out of a bag on to the table —the peculia:, unmistakable chirk of gold. "Look at that. I'm one of those people of whom there arc few enough in this world, who believe in paying for a thing down on the nail. That's what I'm prepared to give in return for the reason why Mr. Hubert Fane can no longer show his face at Colonel. Elbridge's house, and is leaving the Grange, as you say, to-morrow." Judith distinctly heard the hag draw a long, deep breath, as though the sight of the money was too much for her powers of resistance. The next moment, however, she laughed again, though in a more shrill and discordant tone than before, as if the wine with which her visitor had been plying her, in the hope that it ( might assist in loosening her tongue, i was already taking effect upon her senses. "No, Mr. Cording," she cried. "Put your money back in your pocket, for there's things it won't buy, and I'm one of 'em. I knows there's folks who've said I've sold my soul to the devil. Well, if that's so. then it's no use your offering me a price for it. You say you know there's something at the Grange that would make all clear what you want to know : then go and search the house for it yourself; but don't come trying to get it out of me, for I'd have my tongue cut out before I told." Carefully Judith Weir stepped down from her perch: silently she crept round the cottage, and down the path; involuntarily she quickened her pace as she reached the gate, and, when once in the road, she#;tarted to run, covering the ground at a pace which .was certainly remarkable for a woman of her age.

1 "You may depend upon it', Judith, that she told him everything 'by this time." "No, Mr. Hubert, I don't think he'll ever get her to say any more; but she's told him too much already. Her words were, 'go and search the house yourself.' Of course, he can't do that, but there's no knowing now who mayn't lie watching everything that's done here." The two were standing in the kitchen at tho Grange, the light from a small paraffin lamp on the table casting weird shadows of (heir figures on the wall. The moment that Judith had arrived, breathless and dishevelled, Fane had seen that something was wrong, and he had listened with a feeling almost of panic to what she had to relate. He had little difficuly in guessing the meaning of it all, though, up till now, it had never occurred to him that Gordon Cording might, all this while, have been meditating a scheme of revenge. What had led the latter to apply to Jane Hoggin for information about matters at the Grange was a question to which it would take time to find an answer ; it was sufficient to know that he had done so, and that his intentions could not be other than hostile. "Judith, I must get to the bottom of this. I must know exactly what she's told him." "What difference can it make, Mr. Hubert? He can do nothing to-night, and you'll be gone in tho morning." "It makes all the difference. If she's let the cat out of the bag there may not be a moment to lose. The fellow might even now be on his way to the poiice station. At any rate, it would mean an entire alteration of plans. I must go and see her—l must go at once, and find out what she's told him. I shan't be long away." Judith made no further attempt to dissuade him, for even while he was speaking she realised that ho was right. Her regret now was that she had not stayed long enough at the cottage to hear the end of the interview; for, though she believed that Jane Hoggin intended not to say more than she had done, there was no knowing how far her resolution would, in the long run, prevail against the combined influences of gold and liquor. In silence Judith followed Fane into the hall, where he snatched up a cap and stick; then,, after having seen him depart, she closed and locked the front door. Ten minutes passed. She had returned to the kitchen, and was making up the fire in the range when the bell rang —a loud, peremptory peal. Judith started and stood moionless, the short poker with which she had been stirring up tho coals now clutched in her hand as though it were a weapon. Her first thought was that Gordon Cording was at the door, perhaps accompanied by an officer of the law, armed with a warrant to search the house. A few moments' reflection, however, told her that this was absurd. The bell rang again, in a more insistent manner than before. With the poker still grasped in her hand, she crossed the hall, and reached the f.ont door. "*Who's there?" she inquired. "Telegram," was the reply, in what was unmistakably a boy's voice. Even now Judith was not quite satisfied; and, before opening the door, she put up the chain. The familiar flimsy envelope was handed in through the narrow opening. "It ain't my fault that it's late," said the messenger. "They gave it to another lad to bring, and he went and took it to Mr. Lane's ]3lace a good two miles the other side of Bremptin. They told him plain enough, but he got hold of the wrong n?,me in his head, and never thought to ask." Judith acknowledged the message, accepted the apology, and bade the boy good-night. A telegram at this hour—who could it be from ? She returned to the kitchen, and stood hesitating. If it was anything of importance she might even now be able, if she ran, to overtake Fane; on the other hand there were reasons, especially after what she had overheard at Jane [-ioggin's cottage, which made her fear to leave the house unguarded. The moments were passing; the feeling grew upon her mind that the telegram, arriving just when it did, might contain some matter of vital importance, which required immediate attention. She tore open the envelope, and ran her eye rapidly over its contents. The message was rather a long one : "Don't leave home to-night. Must see you on matter of greatest importance. Returning by train reaching Brempton 8.35. "William Elbridge." Judith read the message a second time, then glanced at the big clock which hung against the wall beside the dresser. In the presence of what .seemed likely to prove the final catastrophe her firm will upheld her, and enabled her to remain cool and collected. It was now twenty to nine ; the Colonel's train, if punctual had already arrived at Brempton, and he might be expected at the Grange in perhaps another quarter of an hour. li übcrt Fane must be warned that he was coming. No sooner had the woman arrived at the conclusion than she proceeded to act with characteristic promptness and determination. She ran up-

stairs, and was down again in half a minute. The thought struck her ' that, if, the Colonel arrived during her absence and saw no light in the house, ho might conclude that Fane had left, and so go away again*She therefore extinguished the lamp in the kitchen, and groping her way to the front door, locked it on the outside, dropping the key into her pocket. The gate at the end of tho drive was standing open, and sho was running when she passed through, which was perhaps one reason why sho failed to notice the figure of a man standing motionless on the opposite side of the road. "Hullo," muttered Gordon "Cording. "That was old Judith. It almost looks as if there were a ferret in the burrow, which has bolted them both." He had already passed Fane on the road- though the latter had failed to recognise him, being just then too much occupied with his own thoughts to take much note of anything else. Cording had got nothing further out of Jane Hoggin; even tho promise of a still larger bribe had failed to move her; only one thing he had learnt, namely, that Wilmot's vague surmise that there was something at the Grange which would prove tho explanation .of the mystery was no mere delusion, but a certain fact. It was. this which had caused him to pause when he found himself opposite to the gate at the end of the drive; and, a moment later, Judith Weir had come hurrying out in the manner already described. Gordon Cording had taken his fair share of the bottle of wine which he had conveyed to the cottage in tho belief that if he could make the old woman half tipsy she would be all the more ready to talk; and, although he was not what could be called the worse for liquor himself, yet he had imbibed a sufficient amount of Dutch courage to make him ready for a course of action which, at any other time, he might have hesitated to pursue. " Moreover, his undisciplined spirit was chafing under the last repulse; he wanted to do something, and do it at once, without any more of this tedious and vexatious delay. Fane and Judith Weir he knew were the only occupants of the house; they were both absent; then why should he not at least prowl round the outside of the premises, in the hope of chancing on some discovery. If one or both of them should come back, he would be certain to hear them, and could retreat through the gardens. The thought that Fane was going in the morning, and that this might be the last chance of finding out what he was doing, decided the question. Gordon Cording walked quickly up the drive. The whole front of the house was in darkness: he surveyed it for a time, even going so far as to try the front door to ascertain if it was locked; then made his way round to the back. In her hasto Judith had entirely forgotten the back door, and much to his surprise, as he approached it, Cording saw that it was open. He stepped cautiously inside; paused to listen; moved on again along a narrow passage till he found himself in the kitchen. Again he stood listening; not a sound broke the stillness but the tick of the clock, and the subdued roar of the fire in the range. ' 'I wonder if the old girl has gon« after Fane," mused the intruder. "It'll take her some time to overtake him. There ought to be a quarter of an hour to spare before sh« comes back." What kind of discovery he expected or imagined it might be possible to make in the house, he himself could probably not have told. Som« wild idea had once crossed his mind that Fane might be a forger of false notes, and that one room at the Grange might jDerhaps contain the implements of his calling; but he had dismissed that as being to melodramatic for real life. Yet he had good reason to believe there was something, the sight of which might, in a moment put him in possession of all he wanted to know. This might be the last opportunity he would ever have of finding it; the fact of the house being left unguarded seemed like some colossal stroke of luck, purposely decreed by the Fates in order that he might gain his end. At any other time the recklessness and folly of his behaviour might, indeed certainly would, have deterred him; but his brain was on fire, and now that he had come thus far, to retreat without any attempt to do something seemed to him like a piece of abject cowardice. For ten' minutes, at any rate, he would be safe; and in that time some stroke of fortune might direct him to what he desired to find. The glow of the fire from the range revealed a sconce with candle and matches standing on the dresser. He picked them up ; ho had already decided where to go first; and, knowing the plan of the ground floor of the house, ho groped his way to the dining-room. {To be Continued.) '„_«•» ■**!