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-#%THE IV ) WaH of Silence…

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#% THE IV ) WaH of Silence ) f A STORY OF CARDIFF, II I Specially Written for tbe "Evcnina impress" II By SIDNEY WARWICK, t AUTHOR OF I The Angel of Trouble," "Through a Woman's Heart," 44 No Past is Dead," I B Cat's Eyes: A Mystery," "Shadows of London," &c., Ac. t SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. t Jim Meredith returns to Cardiff from India I to inherit the vast wealth of his uncle, who has left him everything beyond £ 1,000 The -la.tter is bequeathed to Olive Lindsay, the old man's adopted daughter, who wae brought up as his heiress, but was out of I his will because she was accused and aon- victed of steading. Since her imprisonment Olive Lindsay had dropped out of sight. Jim. one evening, motoring beyond Cardiff in the direction of Radyr. hears a shot, and presently there pushes out into the road juet ahead of hie oar a woman, who betraire 1nj expression and movement great die trees ot mind, plainly fearing and flying from jomething. It answer to Jim's questions, she makes aon incoherent statement, and begs him to help- her fly the ?pot. On their way a mounted policeman stops them, and states that a aura hae been shot by a woman who- has run away. Aftoer the constitute departs Jim's companion dacIaree she did not- do the deed. but was frightened at the horror of it. In the conversation it is discovered that a thiek veil, winch the girl said. she was WD'" when in the grounds of the mur- dered mans house, is ming, and Jim shudders at the pomibility of its being dis- covered by the polke, and thus furnishing a clue. He says nothing of his fear, but resolves to return and look for it. Having left the girl, at her own request, near Radyr Station, after assuring her he believed she had not done the thing named by the policeman, Jim Meredith drives back to the place of the murder, and there finds that the victim is a man named Pexcival Detmold, Fearful leet the girl he has befriended left some clue in her flight, Jim searches the grounds- surrounding Detmold's house, and 'Oft a roøe bush finds a brown veil, which he aeizes and secretes. Driving to Cardiff he Scets an old friend. Owen Hu?hee. who 9:trays much excitememt at the mention of Detmold's name, and declares him "one of the biggest scoundrels unhung." Later, Jim £ nde Detmoid was one of the witnesses in the Black Pearl case against OliTe Lindeay. Days pa.8S ajid no clue is foumd to Det- mold's murderer. Meanwhile, Jim Mere- dith goes to his late unole's house in Surrey in search of information concerning Olivo Lindsay. He finds norae, but meets the vicar, who declares his arm conviction of Olive's com- plete innocence. Returning to Cardiff he is met in the street by three ladies, a Mrs. Jar dine, ail old friend, Ethel Resfatrick, & young widow, and formerly Jim's sweet- heart, and another introduced to him as Mios Kennedy, whom he recognised, with a start, as being the girl Le be-friended on the night of the murder, and whom he now has sufficient presence of mind to greet at* an utter stranger. I -il CHAPTER IX. (Continued.) .1 THE EYES OF A JEALOUS W03LLN-. I Of course, I am coming; I'm looking ( forward to a long chat," Meredith said, but no. pulse stirred the quicker in him. A dead love like his had no chains; she had killed his love too swelf when oh-o had killed, his faith. The broken illusions had been swept into a cupboard, and the key turned long ago. They lay -tivere dust-covered, beyond hope of mending. He almost wondered at his own impaeeive- iMes, as he thought of their last Parting. But between that parting and now lay like a dividing sword that letter she had sent ham breaking off their engagement, telling him of her impending marriage. i Meredith could remember every word of tptert'better—of self -ex c u lpa«i<9<n with tfhi-eh she had tried to veil her motives. She had hinted vaguely that it was to please her people; that they had practically driven her into the marria-ge-all the old threadbare excuses: it weald have been too humorow to have pretended that she loved the man She was marrying-the elderly, dried-up, shri-relled little man of money. Twe yeare after Ethel's marriage her si £ tef had3 ibafribd too; someone had sent him out a paper with the account of the wed- ding; it had reminded him ironically of the woman who bad jilted him-for Beatrice Lloyd had also "married well" in the cant Plarase-and Jim Meredith had wondered with a bitter smile if the same motives had actuated both sisters, a family trait? He eould not somehow imagine John Sarrol, cf: affection. I This woman hud played fast and loose with him once; but Mrs. Jardine's estimate was righthe would not have another chance of doing so. "I have just come up to Cardiff to-day from London, or rather from Surrey," he went on -"a little place with the queerest name in Jte world. Sevenwaye-why. you don't know Miss 'KenJ'1edi"' -he cried. She had made a little impulsive movement; her eyes were suddenly turned on him, with involuntarily parted lips as if she were about to speak. But if so, she cheoked the; impulse almost as he put the abrupt; question to her. For a moment she did not II answer. Oh, I know parts of Surrey a MttJe. Eve "<»,1. I Jœow part.s of Surrey & Ut. Eve! Kennedy said, dMrega,rdiD? the 'qut.ion. I "JDO you mean the house or the village is called Sevenways? What a curious naaue. Where is it?" I Tucked away under the Surrey Hills, with a given in the middle of the village, fWlod old thatched cottages smothered in climbing roses, and a delightful old Manor Souse there, that was my uncle's, that 'r\-e fallen in love with. Mrs. Jardine, what does one do with white elephants?" -1 "Do you mean the Manor H<møe? Is it a, very white one?" she smiled. 'Fraid so. But it's a charming old house. There's a date carved somewhere in a atone over a doorway. <mly the second figure's crumbled away, so one migbt easily be a century out in one's calculation of ita age; I' and there aire raftered ceilings of old brown I oak and deep-recessed, tiny-paned windows— I oould go on talking about the house irat.i] your coachman expired on his box with chagrin at my keeping the horses waiting ■o long!" he laughed. ,He paused, as a mutual aequaintanft, < young man very sprucely dressed, with a.n eye-glass and a somewhat fatuous smile, trolled up to them, raising has hat. Hulk> Bobby!" said Meredith with a nod; the name seemed to fit the newcomer like a label. His surname might have been a superfluity—no one ever dreamed of calling kirn by it. "WelL good-bye Mrs. Jardine. Good-bye Mts. Reatarriok. I'm afraid I've fieta,ined your carnage an unoonsciona<ble time; but for Bobby's opportune arrival goodness know* how long I should have gone •P talking. Good-bye, Miss Kennedy." The atraageneee of meeting her again like this: (fell through his talk with Ethel and Mrs. JTardioe Meredith s mind had been running en that. It wae almost aB though fate had intervened to throw them together again. -I'll tarke Bobby along with me," he added caily, "or Jte:U probably detain you farther, so that yWl will never reaoh your ftrottnatk u at ail t"  ."B<M. tba? <m very &Be. Merecütat," J t-t4e* the y?M? man. I call Uia? beh? ? 4og in the manger, by Jove, don't you, mm Jardine? And that reminds me, Meredith. I've got another bone to pick with you-for cutting me the other night." "Sorryv )NMB was that? I -don't femember." wet-I, it's some time ago now; lie nigft I th&t. Detmold was shot," and the smile Suddenly died from Meredith's face; but the words gave him no premonition of what was coming. I WH runuong to catch a train, Just as you were driving Miss Kennedy up "jjo the statioo at Ba4,yr in your motor, don't you Know ? said the younger man with a. laugh- His laugh wiae oelebrated in Cardiff. Its sheer, fatuous inanity would have been a. vatoaMe aoset to any oomediaji in musical samody. Vast* fit octarmB. -ra» &be last thing to be expected of the speaker; and indeed under ordinairy circaimstances there would have been nothing in the remark. As it was, Mere- dith felt a. cold chill pass through him. Though he had not seen Bobby, evidently the la.tter had caught a glimpse of the girl as she left hia car that nicht: could anything have been more unfortunate? He and Mies Kennedy had just now tacitly professed to meet a3 complete strangers; he saw Ethel Restarrick look from him to the girl vrith,- a sudden. Suspicious glance, swift; to notice the discrepancy- Mrs. Jardine looked puzzled. He did not dare to look at the girl's face. Meredith could barve kicked the tnrcornoioue Bobby with pleasure. He must save the situation somehow; for "111 toes far it. Heads—yes; tails—no." I the girl's sake he must remove if possible, the impression left by the words, and the con- struotion that would inevitably be put upon it, th&t would reSect on her. Meredith's code of honour would not bave permitted him to lie to save himself; but he monst lie now to save her. What on earth are you talking about, Bobby, in your charmingi y irresponsible way?" he cried, with scarcely a moment's hesitation, forcing a laugh. I drove a lady certainly to Radyr station one night; perb-aps the night you refer to; only yoa are mistaken ae to the lady." Bobby shared at him incredulously. Quite mistaken, of course," added Mere- dith hurriedly, to check Bobby's evident impulse to speak. I have on-ly just been introduced to Miss Kennedy. To-day is the first time I have heard her name." Meredith did it very well; his manner wis easy and assured- Miss Kennedy laughed; and with her laugh that sounded quite natural he felt with relief that the situation was saved. He looked at her and her eyes thanked him But began Bobby blankly; then stopped suddenly, as though it had dawned upon him uncomfortably that, whatever the facts might be, the tactful thing for him to 1 do was to admit an error. Which he accordingly did rather awkwardly. Meredith stole a look at Ethel Reetarriok's face. It had suddenly grown oold and hard. Was sbe convinced? CHAPTER X. J THE SPIN OF A oora. I Good-night, Meredith—and ever so many thanks." "That's all right. See you to-morrow about what we've been talking of. Only consider it quite settled, you know." The two men stood at the door tslking for a minute or two longer before they shook hands and parted. Hughes wal-ked with, a buoyant step along the path to the gate. his head erect, and with a confident, ela.ted look in his face—he did not look the same ntan as that Owen Hughes whose strange, excited manner had puzzled Meredith when, motoring from Detmold's house, he had met his old sohoolfriend. Meredith stood looking after him a moment before re-entering the house. Lucky that vacancy occurring at the colkieries," he said to himælf-" I'm gla.d I can do Hughes a good turn. And he's just the man for the poet, though I expect Muir will jib a. bit when I tell him the thing's settled." And at the saane moment Owen Hughes was saying to himself with a smile: Stephen Muir would never have offered me the job!" Meredith had offered him a poet at the firm's collieries in the Bbondda VaJley, that had become unexpectedly vacaot—a good post that would lead to still better things. Obaractenstioally, Meredith had made up his mind in a hurry, and bad c-loeed with the offer of the furnished houee at Penarth; he had not only decided to take the house, bat bad taken possession within four days of his return from Sevenways. The place suited him, standing high up not fa.T from the restored old church on the headland: a comfortable boose, not to big for a bache- lor's requirements, standing in a. pleasant, shut-in garden, with green trellis covering the white walls, up which jessamiae grew that almost coTered one side of the house. Owen Hughes had dined with him to-night and at dinner the host had broached the, Question of this vacancy. Stephen Muir would never have offered me t-he post," Hughes said to himself again, as he walked out of the ga4e. A church clock was ohiming haJf past six. They had dined early; and Hughes had come away directly after, as Meredith had an appoint- ment. Owen Hugitts had never got on very well with Stephen Muir, though owing to the tie oi his relationship with Mrs. Muir, be had been intimate with the famly since boyhood, and was frequently at the house. His feet had turned aJmost instinctively towards the Muira' house now, as he walked along the cliff road, by the Windsor Gardens, in the Lavernook direction. It was a big, imposing house, standing baot" from the road, with great iron gates opening on a long carriage sweep and trim wooded grounds. Hughes walked past the rates. hesitated, and walked on, as if un- decided whether to go in or not. His first impulse had been to go to the house; he wanted to see Elsie Muir, wanted her to be the first to hear the news of his good luck; he knew that she would be glad. Bat it was nearly seven oclock-en awkward bosr, for the Ifain dined at had past; and periaaos Elsie would be upstairs dressing for dinner. He walked irresolutely past the gates; and as irresolutely paused at the end of the road. As he looked back he saw Philip Muir, Stephen's second son, ride up to the gates on his bicycle and pass through. Stephen Muir was a self-ftade man who worshipped success; and Hughes knew that it was mainly because he, after throwing up a good appointment at the Aberdare collieries to try his luck abroad, had not done particularly well in the States, that Stephen Muir had dubbed him a rolling- fftone-and to be a rolling-stone was a crime in this ambitious, successful man's eyes. But after all I have worked hard," Owen said to himself suddenly-" which is more than Philip there has ever done; and my knowledge and experience are worth money in the open market any day—which Stephen certainly cannot say for his second son! If ouly Detmold had played stra-ight by me— but it's no good thinking of tha.t now; I've got to swallow my disapointment"; and a frown came into his face. Now I've got this chance Meredith's given me, and I'm going to make the most of it, and perhaps some day 11 Perh,a,ps some day it might lead him to the realisation qf that dream that was in his thoughts now as he looked towards the houfe where Elsie Muir lived. "Shall I go in? I might perbvrA3 oa,t-ch a glimpse of her for ten minutes," thinking of the girl round whom that dream was woven, though he had given her no hint of it by spoken word. I'll toss for it. Heads I-yæ; tadls-no." Owen Hughes spun the coin. It was a head that lay upward in the roadway. And he laughed. Thart. settles it" He walked towards the gate. The spin of the ooiu-a. trivial thing to alter the whole of a man's destiny. Perhaps farte laughed, knowing how the mere chance of that upturned head" in the roadway was to alter all Owen Hughes's future. He walked through the gate. (TO BE CONTINUED ON MONDAY).

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