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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7ab8cac --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55782 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55782) diff --git a/old/55782-h.zip b/old/55782-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a737f9f..0000000 --- a/old/55782-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/55782-h/55782-h.htm b/old/55782-h/55782-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 12cd946..0000000 --- a/old/55782-h/55782-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9661 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> -<html> -<head> -<title>The Turnpike House</title> - -<meta name="Author" content="Fergus Hume"> - -<meta name="Publisher" content="Cheshire Observer"> -<meta name="Date" content="1902"> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> -<style type="text/css"> -body {margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF; - text-align: justify} - - -p.normal {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} - -p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:20%;} -p.center {text-align: center;} -p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} - -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} - - -.t0 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:0em; margin-right:0em;} -.t1 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:1em; margin-right:0em;} -.t2 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:2em; margin-right:0em;} -.t3 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:3em; margin-right:0em;} -.t4 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:4em; margin-right:0em;} -.t5 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:5em; margin-right:0em;} - - -span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} -span.sc2 {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:90%;} - -hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt} - -hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} - -hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} -hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} - -p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} -p.hang2 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:0em;} - -</style> - -</head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Turnpike House, by Fergus Hume - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Turnpike House - -Author: Fergus Hume - -Release Date: October 20, 2017 [EBook #55782] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TURNPIKE HOUSE *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page images published as -a serial on page 2 in the Cheshire Observer starting 18 -January 1902 -(http://newspapers.library.wales/view/4281236/4281238) and -ending with 26 April 1902 as provided on the internet by -Welsh Newspapers Online. - - - - - - -</pre> - -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes: -1. Transcribed from page images published as a -serial on page 2 in the Cheshire Observer starting 18 January 1902 -(http://newspapers.library.wales/view/4281236/4281238) and ending with -26 April 1902 as provided on the internet by Welsh Newspapers Online.</p> - -<p><table cellpadding="10" style="width:90%; margin-left:5%; font-weight:bold"> -<colgroup><col style="width:20%; vertical-align:top; text-align:right"><col style="width:80%; vertical-align:top; text-align:left"></colgroup> -<tr> -<td colspan="2"><h3>CONTENTS</h3></td> -</tr><tr> -<td>CHAPTER.</td> -<td> </td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">I.</a></td> -<td>THE CONVICT'S RETURN.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">II.</a></td> -<td>THE STILL FORM IN THE HOUSE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">III.</a></td> -<td>YOUNG LOVE, TRUE LOVE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">IV.</a></td> -<td>A STRANGE EPISODE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">V.</a></td> -<td>A SHADOW OF THE PAST.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">VI.</a></td> -<td>MR. CASS SPEAKS.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">VII.</a></td> -<td>WEBSTER'S CHILDHOOD.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">VIII.</a></td> -<td>HERCULES AND OMPHALE.</td> - -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">IX.</a></td> -<td>THE EMBASSY OF GEOFFREY HERON.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">X.</a></td> -<td>THE GREAT SECRET.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">XI.</a></td> -<td>RUTH'S DIPLOMACY.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">XII.</a></td> -<td>THE TOY HORSE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13">XIII.</a></td> -<td>JOB, THE SAPENGRO</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14">XIV.</a></td> -<td>THE CLAIRVOYANT.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15">XV.</a></td> -<td>THE PUNISHMENT OF CURIOSITY.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16">XVI.</a></td> -<td>JENNIE BRAWN MAKES A DISCOVERY.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17">XVII.</a></td> -<td>HERON FOLLOWS THE TRAIL.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18">XVIII.</a></td> -<td>THE MONEY-LENDER.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19">XIX.</a></td> -<td>JOB BECOMES CIVILISED.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_20" href="#div1_20">XX.</a></td> -<td>WHAT MR. CASS HAD TO SAY.</td> - -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_21" href="#div1_21">XXI.</a></td> -<td>RUTH IS COMFORTED.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_22" href="#div1_22">XXII.</a></td> -<td>AT BAY.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_23" href="#div1_23">XXIII.</a></td> -<td>STILL IN DOUBT</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_24" href="#div1_24">XXIV.</a></td> -<td>ANOTHER PIECE OF EVIDENCE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_25" href="#div1_25">XXV.</a></td> -<td>ANOTHER PIECE OF EVIDENCE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_26" href="#div1_26">XXVI.</a></td> -<td>THE PENANCE OF INEZ.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_27" href="#div1_27">XXVII.</a></td> -<td>A DOUBTFUL WITNESS.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_28" href="#div1_28">XXVIII.</a></td> -<td>THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_29" href="#div1_29">XXIX.</a></td> -<td>THE END OF THE TURNPIKE HOUSE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_30" href="#div1_30">XXX.</a></td> -<td>THE END OF THE TURNPIKE HOUSE.</td> -</tr></table> - - -<h3>THE TURNPIKE HOUSE.</h3> -<br> -<h4>By FERGUS HUME,</h4> -<h5>Author of "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab," "The Crimson -Cryptogram," "The Golden Idol," "Aladdin in London," "The Dwarf's -Chamber," etc.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">CHAPTER I.</a></h4> -<h5>THE CONVICT'S RETURN.</h5> -<br> - -<p>It stood where four roads met--a square building of two storeys, with -white-washed walls and a high slate roof. The fence, and the once trim -garden, had vanished with the turnpike gate; and a jungle of gooseberry -bushes, interspersed with brambles, shut off the house from the roads. -And only by courtesy could these be so-called, for time and neglect had -almost obliterated them.</p> - -<p>On all sides stretched a flat expanse of reaped fields, bleak-looking -and barren in the waning November twilight. Mists gathered thickly over -ditch and hedge and stubbled furrow a constant dripping could be heard -in the clumps of trees looming here and there in the fog.</p> - -<p>Through the kitchen-garden jungle a narrow, crooked path led up to the -door where two rough stones ascended to a broken threshold. Indeed, the -whole house appeared ragged in its poverty. Many of the windows were -stuffed up with rags; walls, cracked and askew, exuded green slime; -moss interspersed with lichen, filled in the crevices of the slates -upon the roof. A dog would scarcely have sought such a kennel, yet a -dim light in the left-hand window of the lower storey shewed that this -kennel was inhabited. There sat within--a woman and a child.</p> - -<p>The outer decay but typified the poverty of the interior. Plaster had -fallen from walls and ceiling, and both were cracked in all directions. -No carpet covered the warped floor, and the pinched fire in the rusty -grate gave but scanty warmth to the small apartment. A deal table, -without a cloth, two deal chairs, and a three-legged stool--these -formed the sole furniture. On the blistered black mantelshelf a few -cups and saucers of thick delf ranged themselves, and their gay pinks -and blues were the only cheerful note in the prevailing misery.</p> - -<p>The elder of these two outcasts sat by the bare table; a tallow candle -of the cheapest description stuck in a bottle shed a feeble tight, by -which she sewed furiously at a flannel shirt. Stab, click, click, stab, -she toiled in mad haste as though working for a wager. Intent on her -labour, she had no looks to spare for the ten-year-old boy who crouched -by the fire; not that he heeded her neglect, for a brown toy horse took -up all his attention, and he was perfectly happy in managing what was, -to him, an unruly steed.</p> - -<p>From the likeness between these two, the most casual observer would -have pronounced them mother and son. She had once been beautiful, -this slender woman, with her fair hair and blue eyes, but trouble and -destitution had robbed her of a delicate loveliness which could have -thriven only under congenial circumstances. In those faded eyes, now -feverishly glittering, there lurked and expression of dread telling -of a mind ill at ease. Dainty garments would have well become her -fairness, but she was clothed, rather than dressed, in a black stuff -gown without even a linen collar to relieve its lustreless aspect. -Poverty had made her careless of her appearance, heedless of the -respect due to herself, and her sole aim, apparently, was the speedy -completion of the shirt at which she incessantly wrought.</p> - -<p>The boy was a small copy of his mother, with the same fair hair and -blue eyes but his face had more colour, his figure was more rounded, -and he was clothed with a care which shewed the forethought and the -love of a mother even in the direst poverty.</p> - -<p>After some twenty minutes of silence, broken only by the clicking of -the needle and the low chatter of the child, signs of exhaustion began -to show themselves in the worker. Before long, big, hot tears fell on -the grey flannel, and she opened her mouth with an hysterical gasp. -Slowly and more slowly did the seamstress ply her needle, until at -last, with a strangled sob, she flung back her head. "Oh, Heavens!" -was her moan, and it seemed to be wrung from the very depths of her -suffering heart. The child, with a nervous cry, looked up, trembling -violently.</p> - -<p>"What is it mother? Is father coming?"</p> - -<p>"No, thank Heaven!" said the mother, fiercely. "Do you want him?"</p> - -<p>So white did the boy's face become that his eyes shewed black as pitch -balls. The question seemed to strike him like a blow, and he hurled -himself forward to bury his head in the woman's lap. "Don't--don't let -him come!" he sobbed, with unrestrained passion.</p> - -<p>"Why do you speak of him, then?" cried the mother, angrily, just as -she might have addressed a person of her own age. "Never mention your -father, Gilbert. He has gone out of your life--out of mine. He is dead -to you--and to me."</p> - -<p>"I am glad," sobbed the boy, shaking with nervous excitement. "Are you -sure, quite sure, mother, he will never come back again?"</p> - -<p>"Who is sure of anything?" muttered the woman, gloomily. "He is out of -prison now; at any time he may track us down. But he shall not I get -you, my boy," and she strained the child to her breast. "I would kill -him first!"</p> - -<p>"I would kill him, too--kill him, too!" panted Gilbert, brokenly. "Oh, -mother, mother! I hate him! I hate him!" and he burst into tears.</p> - -<p>"Hush, hush, my baby!" soothed the mother. "Never think of him. He will -not get you. No, no."</p> - -<p>But the boy continued to sob convulsively, and it required all her arts -to pacify him. She knew from experience what the end of this outbreak -would be if it continued beyond a point. The lad was precocious and -neurotic, quite undisciplined, taking colour from his surroundings, -tone from the atmosphere in which he chanced to be; and as the fit -took him, could be angel or demon. But in ten minutes the mother had -succeeded in soothing him sufficiently to send him back to his play. -Then she recommenced her work, and as the needle flew through the -coarse stuff she thought of her husband.</p> - -<p>"The brute! The hound!" so ran her thoughts. "It is his work. If Gilbert -should see him again he would die or go mad, or fall into one of his -trances. In any case he would be lost to me. Ah!" she broke out aloud, -pushing the hair from her lined forehead. "How long will it last?"</p> - -<p>There was no answer to the despairing question, and she went on sewing, -listening the while to the prattle of her lad.</p> - -<p>"Stand still. Brownie!" the child was saying. "You aren't galloping -over the big green of Bedford-park. Do you remember your nice stable by -this there, Brownie, and the pretty rooms? I don't like this house any -more than you do. Mother was happy in our pretty cottage, so was I, so -was my Brownie."</p> - -<p>"Mother will never be happy again," murmured the woman, savagely -stabbing the flannel as though she were stabbing the man of whom she -was thinking. "Ruin and disaster. Disaster and ruin! Why are such men -created?"</p> - -<p>Gilbert took no notice. "Do you remember the red houses, Brownie, and -the railway? I took you there often for a trot. It was just three years -ago. Trot now!"</p> - -<p>"Aye, just three years!" cried the woman. "Years of agony, pain, shame -and disgrace. Why doesn't he die!" and she bit off the end of a thread -viciously.</p> - -<p>"Mother," said the boy, unexpectedly, "I'm hungry. Give me something to -eat."</p> - -<p>The woman opened a cupboard and brought out a small loaf, a bundle of -victuals, and a tiny packet of tea, precious as gold to her poverty. -In silence she boiled the kettle and brewed a cup; in silence she set -the food before the hungry child. But when he began to eat her feelings -proved too much for her. She burst into fierce words.</p> - -<p>"Eat the bread of charity, Gilbert!" she said in a loud, hard voice, -and still speaking as though to a person of her own age. "The loaf only -is paid for by our own money. I got the bones and the meat from Miss -Cass at the Hall. She took me for a beggar in spite of the work I have -done for her. And she is right, I am a beggar--so are you--and your -father---- There, there! Don't look so scared. We will not speak of -him."</p> - -<p>Then the boy did a strange thing. With a sudden pounce he seized a -sharp-pointed, buck-handled knife used for cutting the bread, and, -raising it in the air, looked at his mother with fierce eyes.</p> - -<p>"If my father takes me away from you," he said, shrilly, "I'll stick -this into him. I will, mother!"</p> - -<p>With an ejaculation of terror she snatched the knife out of his small -hands, clenched now so wickedly. "Heaven forgive me," she thought, -laying it down on the table. "My hatred comes out in him. I may lead -him into danger. Heaven keep his father out of his way. I should see -a doctor." She glanced round the room and laughed bitterly. "Oh, -Heavens'" she broke out aloud. "See a doctor. I can't pay, and ask him -in this hovel! Charity? No, no. I'll earn my bread, if I die in the -earning." And she fell as fiercely as before to her sewing.</p> - -<p>Gilbert, now himself again, ate slowly and with much enjoyment. At -intervals he fed the horse which he had brought to the table with him. -His mother watched him, pondering over his late outburst so terribly -suggestive of the latent instincts in the child. She knew well the -reason of it, though she would not acknowledge so much even to herself. -Her husband had treated her brutally, and the high-spirited creature -had resented his behaviour with passionate hatred. She had taught her -child to detest his father.</p> - -<p>It was a wild night. The wind beat against the crazy building till it -creaked in all its loosened joints. Still the woman went on sewing, and -the boy continued to eat. A miserable silence settled down upon them.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the mother raised her hand, and the child stopped eating with -an expression of terror on his white face.</p> - -<p>The woman listened, wild eyed--not in vain. From some distance came the -sound of a dragging footstep. There was a drag, a halt, and then again -a drag, as though some wounded animal were writhing its way to a place -of safety. The outcast knew the sound of that halting gait only two -well. So did the boy.</p> - -<p>"It's father!" he cried, shrilly. A look of mingled terror, repulsion, -hatred, took possession of his white face.</p> - -<p>"Hush!" said the woman, imperatively, and left the room. For a moment -Gilbert sat quietly listening; then his small hand slipped along the -table to grasp the buck-handled knife. Trembling with excitement, he -watched the door; he could hear without his mother's taunting voice.</p> - -<p>"Come in, Mark Jenner. I know you are standing there in the darkness. -Enter, and see the state to which your wickedness has reduced your wife -and child. Come in, you lying scoundrel, you brute, you thief!"</p> - -<p>In answer to this invitation came a growl as of an angry animal. Then -the footsteps dragged themselves nearer and halted at the door. There -ensued the sound of taunts and curses. And almost immediately after -this exchange of courtesies between husband and wife, who had been -parted for three years, the door opened to admit a thick-set man, whose -face, in spite of its cunning, was not devoid of refinement. He was in -rags and soaking with the wet.</p> - -<p>Gilbert stared at this half-forgotten father who had been so long a -stranger. Then the fierce inherited hatred woke suddenly within him. In -deadly silence he launched himself forward, knife in hand, and struck -at his father. Though taken by surprise, the man had about him some of -the swiftness of the wild beast which is always prepared for danger, -and he warded off the blow with one hand. But the keen blade had cut -him across the knuckles, and as the blood spurted he uttered an oath of -terror and of pain. For a moment he made as if to fling himself on his -small assailant; then he paused, with a look of fear. For the child, -passing suddenly from motion to stillness, stood, apparently in a -cataleptic trance, with rigid limbs and eyes widely staring. His mother -swept down on him with the swoop of a striking falcon, and had him in -her arms before her husband could recover himself.</p> - -<p>"You have seen him like this before," she said, "so you know he will -remain in the trance for some time. I will take him to bed."</p> - -<p>"It is you who have put him up to this," cried the man in a shaking -voice.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Jenner laughed. "Heaven put him up to it," she said, hysterically. -"This hatred of you dates too far back. You had better ask a doctor to -explain. I cannot; but I know what I know. Wait till I have put him to -bed, then I will come back to hear how you have hunted me down, and -why. I thought I was free from gaol-birds," she finished, bitterly, and -passed out of the room and up the stairs.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jenner gave a savage ejaculation. Then he shuffled forward to -the fire, warmed himself, and proceeded to attack the food. In an -incredibly short space of time there was not a crumb left on the table, -and he was still hungry.</p> - -<p>"If I only had a smoke!" he growled, squeezing his hands together. -"But I have nothing, not even a welcome. Ah, well, there are those -who will pay for this!" He took a well-worn pocket-book out of his -breast-pocket. "My fortune lies in here; but it is not safe while he is -about."</p> - -<p>The reflection seemed to make him uneasy, and he glanced round the poor -room, looking for a place where he might hide his treasure. His eyes -fell on the brown horse, and he chuckled.</p> - -<p>"She'll always keep that for Gilbert," he said, "and it's not likely to -be lost. I'll put it in there."</p> - -<p>Having assured himself that his wife was upstairs, he proceeded to -carry out his plan. The toy was made of rags, painted and moulded -to the shape of a horse. So he made an incision in the belly, and, -thrusting in his finger, formed a hole. Then, with a hasty glance -round, he opened the red pocket-book and produced therefrom a Bill of -Exchange, which he folded up into a compass as small as possible. This -he thrust into the hole, pulled the interior stuffing over it, and -using his wife's needle, sewed up the hole with considerable despatch -and dexterity. A few white threads were still sufficiently noticeable -to arouse suspicion, so he rubbed his hand on the sooty grate and -blackened the rent. So neatly was all this done that no one would have -guessed that the toy had been opened.</p> - -<p>Jenner laughed, and tossed the horse on to the table where the child -had left it. "That's all right," he said. "She'll never part with -anything belonging to the boy."</p> - -<p>He looked over the table to see if any food remained. Finding none, he -swore a little and sat down by the fire, upon which he had heaped all -the fuel he could find. There he brooded, chin in hand, thinking of his -past, dreading the days to come.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">CHAPTER II.</a></h4> -<h5>THE STILL FORM IN THE HOUSE.</h5> - -<br> -<p>In a quarter of an hour Mrs. Jenner returned. She looked at the empty -table, at the heaped up fuel in the grate, and finally her gaze of -loathing and of scorn fell upon the figure by the fire.</p> - -<p>"Still the same selfish brute," she said, resuming her seat and her -work. "My child and I are almost starving, almost without a fire; yet -you devour our small portion and burn our sticks. And why not? What do -our pains matter to you, so long as you are comfortable?"</p> - -<p>"I have had more discomfort than you," grumbled her husband, avoiding -her contemptuous eyes. "Had you been in prison----"</p> - -<p>"I would never have come near those whom I had disgraced," she finished -swiftly, and went on with her stitching.</p> - -<p>The culprit writhed.</p> - -<p>"Lizzie," he said, "do not be too hard on me. I have sinned, but I have -been punished. You might forgive me now."</p> - -<p>"Never!" said the wife, curtly, and the expression of her eyes told him -that she fully meant what she said.</p> - -<p>"How hard women can be."</p> - -<p>"Women," remarked Mrs. Jenner, shifting the work on her knee, "are -what men make them. You behaved to me like the brute that you are; you -cannot blame me, then, if I treat you according to your nature. I live -for our child--to make amends for what you have done. Therefore, I have -an object in life. Had I not, I would gladly die; and I would gain -death--a shameful death--by killing you."</p> - -<p>The terrible intensity of her gaze made the guilty wretch shiver. "I -will make it up to you," he said, feebly.</p> - -<p>"Not you. You will go on just the same--that is if I will let you--and -that I don't intend to do."</p> - -<p>"I shall have money soon--plenty of money."</p> - -<p>"What! Are you going to steal again? I want none of your ill-gotten -gains. This house is poor, but it is honest. I earn the food my child -and I eat, or I beg it; but stealing? No, I leave that to you. Why have -you come here?"</p> - -<p>"I thought we might come together again and live a new life."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Jenner threw aside her work and sprang up. "I would rather die," -she said, in a voice of intense hatred. "You treated me like a dog; you -struck me; you starved me; you were unfaithful to me. I would rather -die."</p> - -<p>"It was the drink," Jenner pleaded. "I was all right when I was sober."</p> - -<p>"And were you ever sober?" demanded the woman, bitterly. "Not you. In -spite of all my care you lay in the mire and wallowed like the pig you -are."</p> - -<p>"This is a nice welcome," grumbled the man, beginning to lose his -temper.</p> - -<p>"What did you expect? Tears and kisses, and the killing of the fatted -calf? No, my man; I have been a fool too long. I am no fool now. You -have hunted me down; how, I know not. But you don't stay here. You go. -And, this time you go--for ever."</p> - -<p>"My rights as a husband and a father----"</p> - -<p>"A criminal has no rights," interrupted his wife. "Think of the past," -she went on in a loud, hard voice. "Think of it, and then wonder at -your audacity in coming here to face me--me whom you have ruined."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to think of the past--and I won't. Leave it alone. It's -dead and done with."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but the consequences remain. Look at this house--your work. See -my withered looks--your work. Think of the child and his mysterious -illness--your work. You forget all that you have done. I do not; and I -intend to refresh your memory."</p> - -<p>Jenner turned sullen. There was no chance of escaping from this, save -by going out again into the storm, and he was much too comfortable -where he was. So of the two evils he chose the lesser; and even in this -his selfish regard for his own comfort shewed itself. "Go on, then," he -growled, sullenly.</p> - -<p>The woman returned to her seat, and averting her eyes she began to -speak in a low, monotonous voice, rising ever and growing more excited -as she went through the story of shame and sorrow.</p> - -<p>"Let me begin at the beginning, when I was governess to Mr. Cass's -little girl; then I was happy and respected. I was pretty, too, and -admired. Mr. Cass was a merchant in the city, trading in Spanish -wines----"</p> - -<p>"What's the use of telling me all this?" broke in Jenner, impatiently. -"It is all state. I was a clerk in Cass's office; I met you at his -house when I was there on business, and I married you----"</p> - -<p>"Yes, you married me," she cried, fiercely. "The more fool I for being -taken by your good looks and your plausible tongue. For my sake it was -that Mr. Cass raised you to a higher position and gave you a larger -salary. We lived in Bloomsbury, and there, ten years ago, Gilbert was -born; but not until you had broken my heart and ruined my life."</p> - -<p>"Come now, I was kind to you when I was sober."</p> - -<p>"And were you ever sober? No; you poor, weak fool. Because you had a -good voice and musical talents you were led away by pleasure, and for -months before Gilbert was born you behaved towards me in a way no woman -could forgive. I was high-spirited, and I resented your conduct--your -dissipation and your unfaithfulness."</p> - -<p>"You were always on your high horse, if that is what you mean."</p> - -<p>"I had every reason to be on my high horse, you brute. Remember the -birth of Gilbert--how I suffered--how you were drunk the whole time. -And when I got better I found that Mr. Cass had dismissed you for -appropriating money."</p> - -<p>Jenner sneered. "Cass made a great fuss about nothing."</p> - -<p>"You know as well as I do what Mr. Cass is. His mother was Spanish, and -he had a fiery temper. He had treated you well, and you repaid him by -taking what belonged to him. He dismissed you, but for my sake, because -I had been his child's governess, he did not prosecute you."</p> - -<p>"Ah! I always thought you and Mr. Cass were great friends."</p> - -<p>"That was your own foul mind," cried the woman, contemptuously. "Mr. -Cass was an honourable man. If it had been his partner, Marshall, now, -then perhaps--yes."</p> - -<p>"I know all about Marshall, thank you, Lizzie," he said, chuckling, and -his eyes wandered to the brown horse on the table.</p> - -<p>"Thinking of your association with him, I suppose?" she sneered. "He -took you up simply on account of your voice, and then dropped you when -he found out what a drunkard you were."</p> - -<p>"Yes, he did," said Jenner, between his teeth. "And I swore to be -revenged on him; and some day I will. If you care to listen, I'll -tell----"</p> - -<p>"I wish to hear nothing," she interrupted. "Mr. Marshall is not a man I -admire--a dissipated rake, that's what he is. Still, he is Mr. Cass's -partner, and for the sake of Mr. Cass I wish to hear nothing against -him. Besides, he is going to marry Miss Cass."</p> - -<p>"What--Inez Cass-the sister of my old master?" cried Jenner, looking up.</p> - -<p>"Yes. Do you know of any reason why he should not?"</p> - -<p>"No," said the man, slowly; "but I wish I had known that two hours ago."</p> - -<p>"Why two hours?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, you don't want to hear anything against Marshall, so I won't tell."</p> - -<p>His wife glanced contemptuously at him. "I suppose you mean blackmail," -she said. "Blackmail Miss Cass and Mr. Marshall, if you like, and -go back to gaol if it pleases you. I have done with you and your -wickedness."</p> - -<p>"We'll see about that," he cried.</p> - -<p>"Don't interrupt me, please," his wife said, with an imperative wave of -her hand. "I want to go on with my story."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to hear any more."</p> - -<p>"But you shall hear to the end. Listen, Mr. Cass dismissed you for -dishonesty, and you took to the stage on the strength of your voice. -You know the life you led me. I forgave you over and over again for -the child's sake. But it was all of no use. Then at last drink spoilt -your voice, and you could get no engagements and Mr. Marshall, although -you did not deserve it, got you a situation in that moneylender's -office--I forget the name--the----"</p> - -<p>"Old Julian Roper."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Julian Roper. You got the situation four years ago, and for a -time things went well; then you broke out again and stole money from -your new employer. He was not so lenient as Mr. Cass, and he had you -put in gaol for three years."</p> - -<p>"Well; I'm out now."</p> - -<p>"You are," said his wife, and there was intense hatred in her voice. -"Out to see how I have sunk. After your imprisonment your creditors -sold up the house and furniture in Bedford-park; I was turned out on -the streets with my child. Mr. Cass got me a place as governess; then -it came out that I was the wife of a convict, and I lost the situation. -I was driven from one engagement to another. Finally I came down here -to ask charity from Mr. Cass. He would have done much for me, but for -his sister. Inez is one of your cold, cruel women who kick the fallen. -She blamed me for being your wife, and she set her brother against me. -All I could get was this tumble-down hovel, where I live rent free. I -earn my bread by sewing for the people in the village two miles on. -Sometimes Miss Cass insults me by sending me broken victuals--you have -just eaten some--and I am so poor that I accept the scraps. Such is my -life, but I would rather live it than go with you."</p> - -<p>"I don't want you to go with me," said the man, rising. "I want to make -you happy by giving you money."</p> - -<p>"Have you any? And, if so, where did you get it?"</p> - -<p>"I have none just yet, but I soon shall have. At the present moment I -am the possessor of two coppers"--he produced them. "But in a week I -shall have hundreds."</p> - -<p>"And then you will go to gaol again," said his wife. "No, thank you, -I don't want to have anything to do with you. I have suffered quite -enough at your hands. How could I live with you when the child hates -you so?"</p> - -<p>"That's all your fault!"</p> - -<p>"Not altogether, as I said before. His hatred of you is pre-natal; but -I have fostered that hatred until--well, you saw how he received you -to-night."</p> - -<p>"You are pitiless," he said, hoarsely.</p> - -<p>"I am what you have made me. Do you think I would allow my child to -love you who have treated his mother so ill? He will never look upon -you save with loathing and hate. I would die for the boy; it is the -strongest passion of my nature, this love for him. Do you think I would -share that love with you? No; Gilbert hates you--he always will--and as -I said before, I have done my utmost to foster his hate. Oh, I thought -I was sate from you here. Who told you of my hiding-place?"</p> - -<p>"Marshall," said Jenner, sulkily.</p> - -<p>"Ah you have seen him. And did he speak to you--a gaol-bird?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, he did. I made him speak to me."</p> - -<p>His wife looked curiously at him and significantly. "It is as I -thought," she said. "You know something about him, and you have come -down to blackmail him or Miss Cass. Well, go and do it, and get back -into gaol if you can. I should be glad to see you in prison again. As -it is, out you go--now!"</p> - -<p>"I have no money--no shelter."</p> - -<p>"I will give you five shillings," she said. "With that you can go to -the village inn--it is only two miles away."</p> - -<p>Jenner took out his red pocket-book and laid it on the table near the -window. "I have a pencil and paper in this," he said. "What you lend me -I will give you an I.O.U. for. I don't want your money."</p> - -<p>"I decline," said his wife, turning from the open window, out of which -she had been leaning. "Once the money passes into your hands it becomes -too vile for me to touch again. Wait here, and I will get you the five -shillings."</p> - -<p>He sprang forward, almost beside himself, and seized her wrist. "You -wretch--I'll give you a thrashing for this."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Jenner shook off his hand, new to the fireplace and snatched up -the poker. "You lay a finger on me, and I'll kill you," she cried, -wildly. "You foul beast--your very touch is poison. I am not the woman -I was to put up with your brutality. Stand back, you gaol-bird."</p> - -<p>He backed towards the open window, and began to whimper. "Don't be such -a virago," he said. "I don't want to touch you. If you will give me the -money I will go away. But you have lost the chance of a fortune," he -boasted, shaking the red pocket-book. "I can get hundreds--hundreds."</p> - -<p>"In the usual way," she said, and laid down the poker. "Then you will -be locked up again. I hope you will."</p> - -<p>"Can I not take leave of the child?"</p> - -<p>"No, unless you want him to try and kill you again. Besides, he is in a -trance; he will waken as suddenly as he fell into it. But I hope, for -your sake, that you will be out of the house before he recovers his -senses."</p> - -<p>"Do you think--"</p> - -<p>"I don't think--I know. All his life Gilbert will hate you. He is -highly neurotic, and when he gets besides himself he will do things as -mad as would an hysterical woman. He is not to be trusted--no more am -I--so beware of us both, and place the sea between yourself and us."</p> - -<p>"A very good idea," he said, coolly. "I'll emigrate."</p> - -<p>"Do. Go to Sydney--which was formerly Botany Bay. That ought to suit -you," she taunted. "Stop there," she snatched up the poker again, "or I -will not answer for myself."</p> - -<p>Her husband laid down the buck-handled knife and placed it on the table -beside the pocket-book. He had taken it up with an oath when his wife -goaded him with her tongue. "Get the five, shillings," he said, sulkily.</p> - -<p>"It is upstairs." Still carrying the poker, Mrs. Jenner moved towards -the inner door. "I can tell you so much, for you will never find my -hiding-place. Wait here."</p> - -<p>When she had gone her husband remained by the table with his hand on -the red pocket-book. His eyes sought the brown horse. "I must take you -with me, too," he muttered. "I shall never see her or the child again. -It is better so; I hope she won't be long." And he waited in sulky -silence.</p> - -<p>Suddenly there was the cry of a human being in pain. The light was -extinguished, and the mists closed thicker round the ruined building; -it might be to hide the sight within the room. Could the wails only -have spoken they would have shouted "Murder!" with most miraculous -voice. But the age of miracles being past, the walls were dumb, and -there was no clamour to greet the horror of this deed done in darkness. -But the mists wrapped themselves round the place of death, and a -profound silence shut down on the desolate country.</p> - -<p>It was broken at last by the sound of light footsteps. Along the -disused road a woman carrying a child in her arms tore along at a -furious rate. She did not know where she was going; she had no goal. -All that she desired was to get away from the thing which lay in the -darkness of that poor room. Horror was behind her; danger before. And -she ran on, on through the mists and the gloom, pursued by the Furies. -Like hounds on the track, they drove her along the lonely roads until -the mists swallowed her up; and these, growing ever more dense, blotted -out the woman, blotted out the country, blotted out the Turnpike House. -But what they could not blot out was that silent room where a dead man -lay. Better had they done so; better had they obliterated that evidence -of evil from the face of the earth. But what had been done in the -darkness had yet to be shewn in the light; and then--but the woman fled -on wearied feet, fled, ever fled through the gloom, and the friendly -mists covered her escape.</p> - -<p>And so did the ruined Turnpike-House become possessed of its legend. -For many a long year the horror of it was discussed beside winter -fires. The place was haunted, and the ghost had walked first upon that -very night, when the woman, bearing the child, had fled away into the -darkness.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">CHAPTER III.</a></h4> -<h5>YOUNG LOVE, TRUE LOVE.</h5> - -<br> -<p>It was Christmas-time, many years after the events narrated in the -previous chapter, and the snow not only lay thick on the ground but was -falling heavily from a leaden sky. A strong wind which rose with the -coming of the night drove through the leafless trees of the park and -clashed iron music from among their frozen boughs.</p> - -<p>Beyond the red brick wall which encircled Hollyoaks Park the frozen -road ran straight to the village of Westham, and the one street of that -hamlet was crowded with people returning homeward laden with purchases -for the next day.</p> - -<p>But if it was wintry out of doors, within the mansion of Mr. Cass all -was colour and warmth and tropical leafage. The merchant's mother had -been an Andalusian, and perhaps some far-off strain of Moorish blood -had constrained her son to build his house on Moorish lines. When Mr. -Cass, some twenty years ago, had bought Hollyoaks from the decayed -county family who then owned it, the manor-house had been but lately -destroyed by fire. The purchaser found a pleasant country, a beautiful -park, but no place where he and his family could lay their heads. So -he proceeded to erect what the countryside called "Cass's Folly"--a -true Moorish dwelling-place such as one finds in Seville and Cordova. -A series of low buildings clustered round a central court, or, as it -would be called in Spain, a patio. This, in deference to the English -climate, had been roofed in with glass and turned into a winter garden. -The roof was protected against the elements by a close iron frame-work, -which was yet sufficiently open to admit the light. But it is rarely -that the sun shines with full strength in the Midlands; so it happened -that this garden was usually pervaded by a fascinating twilight.</p> - -<p>This large space was filled with tropical foliage; palms rose tall and -stately from an undergrowth of oddly-shaped plants with serpentine -and hairy foliage interspersed with brilliant flowers. What with the -diapered pavement, the white marble pillars of the corridor, and all -this tropical fecundity, the spectacle was brilliant and strange to -English eyes.</p> - -<p>This striking interior, however, made a special appeal to the emotions -of a tall, slim young man who was seated in a lounging-chair beside -the pool. He had arrived from London only two hours before, after an -uncomfortable journey in the cold. He remembered his last Christmas -spent at Hollyoaks, when he had arrived much about the same time and -had been greeted with the same splendour. Then he had been a stranger; -now he was well known to the Cass family, best of all to the youngest -daughter of the house. But where was she now? Why was she not here to -greet him?</p> - -<p>His colour came and went now as he thought of the girl he was about to -meet, the girl who was all the world to him. He tugged nervously at -his small golden moustache, and his blue eyes blinked at the dazzling -colours of the flowers. But there was something about the boy--for -he was no more than twenty-three--which brought conviction that his -spirit was more manly than his looks would have one believe. His air -was resolute; his figure, though slim, was athletic; yet withal he was -nervous and emotional in the extreme. And, after all, this was how it -should be, for Neil Webster's fame as a violinist of rare promise was -well known. Already he had made a name for himself both in England and -America.</p> - -<p>With such a temperament it was not wonderful that he should love Ruth -Cass, who also was of a highly sensitive nature. Neil thought of her -now with an intensity inspired by the memory of the joy she had been -to his appreciative eye when, last Christmas, he had seen her for the -first time.</p> - -<p>As the young man sat there wrinkling his brows in the effort to recall -completely the memory of Ruth's first appearance, a side door opened -and she herself appeared. With light steps she stole forward, and -laying her gloved hands upon his eyes she laughed out of sheer joy.</p> - -<p>"Who is it?" she asked, gaily. "I give you three guesses."</p> - -<p>Neil turned, took her hands and kissed them. "As if I needed more than -one," he said, with light reproach. "I should not be a true lover did I -not guess your presence even without seeing you."</p> - -<p>"Yet you didn't, you didn't," sang the girl. "I came upon you unawares."</p> - -<p>"But I knew yow were coming, for I felt it in my heart. Come, let me -look at my rose of Sharon. It is six long weary weeks since I saw you."</p> - -<p>She made a little curtsey, and then stood demurely before him. To a -stranger she would have been almost a great a surprise as the house -itself. And she was in keeping with it--the beautiful Andalusian -Marquise of de Musset's ballad come to life in foggy England. The -Quaker name of Ruth suited ill with that rich southern beauty. Had she -been called Cleopatra, that Royal name would well have matched her -appearance. Although but twenty years of age she was already in the -full bloom of womanly loveliness. Of no great height, she possessed -one of those perfect figures seen only in Spain. She walked with the -swaying, graceful gait of the Andalusian woman. An olive skin, large, -liquid eyes of midnight blackness, lips scarlet as a pomegranate -blossom, full and a trifle voluptuous.</p> - -<p>As became a daughter of the South, Ruth was arrayed in a ravishing -dinner-dress of black and gold which suited her swarthy beauty. In the -coils of her blue-black hair she wore sparkling diamonds; the same -stones blazed on neck and wrists, and in this splendour she seemed -to the excited eyes of her lover like some gorgeous tropical flower -blossoming beneath ardent skies.</p> - -<p>"Come now," she said, sinking into a chair. "We have just a few minutes -before the others come in, and they are not to be passed in silence."</p> - -<p>"Who are the others?" Neil asked, taking a chair beside her.</p> - -<p>She waved a fan of black and yellow feathers from which, true daughter -of Spain as she was, she would not part even in winter.</p> - -<p>"Oh, all the people you have met here before," she said, smoothing -her dainty gloves. "My father, Jennie Brawn, my uncle and aunt, and -Geoffrey Heron."</p> - -<p>As she pronounced the last name Ruth stole a laughing glance at her -lover. And, as she had expected, a shadow came over his face, and his -colour went and came like that of a startled girl.</p> - -<p>"Oh, is he here?" was his comment. "He is a very good sort of fellow."</p> - -<p>"Too good for your taste, Monsieur Othello," laughed Miss Cass, tapping -his flushed cheek with her fan. "I see how it is. You think he is a -rival."</p> - -<p>"I don't think it, I know it. Ruth."</p> - -<p>"Well," with a coquettish toss of her head, "perhaps he is. But you -think, moreover, that I admire him. I do, as one might admire a -picture. He is good-looking and very nice----"</p> - -<p>"I can't contradict you," interrupted the young man.</p> - -<p>"But," she resumed smoothly, "he is not clever, he is not musical, and -he is not the most jealous man in the world."</p> - -<p>"Meaning me, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"Of course. Who else should I mean? Come. I won't have your forehead -wrinkled." She brushed the lines away with her fan. "Smile, Neil, -smile, or I won't speak to you all night."</p> - -<p>He could not withstand her charming humour, and he did smile. But, in -spite of all, he shook his head ruefully.</p> - -<p>"It's all very well making a joke of it," he said. "I know you love me -as I love you, but your father--he knows nothing of our attachment."</p> - -<p>"My father? Pooh! I can twist him round my finger."</p> - -<p>"I am not so sure of that. Remember, I have known him many years. He -can be hard when he likes, and in this case he will be hard. He is -rich, has a position, while I----"</p> - -<p>"While you are Neil Webster, the great violinist."</p> - -<p>"Oh that is all right," he said, dismissing his artistic fame with a -nod. "But I mean I do not know who my parents are. I never heard of -them."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps, like Topsy, you growed," Ruth said, for she attached no -importance to his speech. "Dear! What does it matter?"</p> - -<p>"A great deal to a proud man like your father. Yet he may know my -parents since he brought me up. I'll ask him."</p> - -<p>"Papa brought you up, Neil? I never knew that. I thought he met you -at some house in London, and asked you here because he is so fond of -music."</p> - -<p>The young man frowned and tugged at his moustache. His colour changed. -"I should not have told you," he said, in a low voice, "but my tongue -runs away with me. We have often talked of my early life."</p> - -<p>"Let me see," said Miss Cass, gravely mischievous. "I think you did say -something about having been brought up in the South of England."</p> - -<p>"At Bognor," he explained. "An old woman, Mrs. Jent, looked after me -there. When it became apparent that I had musical talent your father -had me taught on the Continent. I appeared first in America, where I -was trained under Durand, the great violinist. I made a success and -returned to London; then----"</p> - -<p>"Then he brought you down here a year ago, and in six months we fell in -love with one another, and----"</p> - -<p>"I loved you from the first," he cried.</p> - -<p>"How rash!" remarked the girl, pursing her mouth demurely. "But we will -say nothing about that. We love now, that is sufficient. But tell me -how it was my father first came on the scene of your life? I know much -that you have told me: but my father--that is something new."</p> - -<p>"I can remember him ever since I was a young child--from the age of -ten."</p> - -<p>"Oh then he did not come to you before that?"</p> - -<p>Webster paused, then turning towards her made an extraordinary speech. -"I don't know. I can't recollect my life before that."</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear me!" cried Miss Cass, not quite taking in the meaning of his -words. "What a stupid child you must have been! Why, I recollect all -sorts of things which happened when I was five."</p> - -<p>"I don't mean that exactly," said Webster, "but my first recollection -is my recovery from a long illness, and all my memories date from that -time. What came before--where I was born, where brought up--is a blank."</p> - -<p>"What did Mrs. Jent tell you?" cried the girl, now anxious to solve the -mystery. "She told me I was born in America, somewhere near New York, -that my father had played in an orchestra, and that my mother had been -a singer. I fell ill somewhere about my tenth year, and since then -I have seen your father frequently, but I have never questioned him -closely. However, I will speak to him to-morrow, and at the same time I -will tell him that I love you.</p> - -<p>"Then he will consent to our engagement," Miss Cass said, promptly.</p> - -<p>"I wonder!" Again Neil drew his hand across his face. "It does not seem -a satisfactory past. I always feel there is some mystery about it."</p> - -<p>"Mystery! What nonsense!" cried Ruth, with pretty disbelief. "I am -certain that what Mrs. Jent has told you is true, and the illness made -you forget your childish days. My father has been good to you for -reasons which he will no doubt tell me. And, since he has always helped -you, and has, so to speak, been a father to you, he will not forbid our -marriage. Why did you not tell me all this before?"</p> - -<p>Webster looked puzzled. "I hardly know," he murmured. "Something always -kept me silent, and I talked, as you remember, more about my career as -an artist than anything else."</p> - -<p>"But you never said that my father paid for your studies," persisted -Ruth.</p> - -<p>"No, that is quite true. But I kept silent on that point because he -asked me to. He is a man who likes to do good by stealth, but he did -not ask me to be silent on any other point, so I might have told you -all that I have said to-night long ago. I tell you now about your -father in spite of his prohibition, as I want you to know everything -concerning me. Should we be fortunate enough to gain his consent, I -don't want you to remain in ignorance of his kindness. But shall we -ever marry?" he sighed.</p> - -<p>"Of course we shall," said Ruth, imperiously. "I have made up my mind."</p> - -<p>"Ah! but your father has not made up his, Ruth," he seized her hands, -"do you really love me? If you do not----"</p> - -<p>"Don't get excited, Neil. If I did not love you I should tell you so. -But I do love you, how, dearly you will never know."</p> - -<p>"But it may be--my music you love," he urged.</p> - -<p>"Conceited boy," laughed Miss Cass. "Of course I love your music, but I -love you for yourself as well. Speak to my father. We will not keep our -engagement secret any longer."</p> - -<p>"I feel that we should not have kept it secret at all," murmured the -young man. "After your father's kindness to me I feel somewhat of a -traitor."</p> - -<p>"You can lay the blame on me," announced the girl, calmly. "I wished -it to be kept quiet on account of Aunt Inez. You know what she is--a -jealous woman always putting her finger into everyone's pie. I'm sure -she has quite enough to do in looking after her own husband. He is a -wicked, gay old man, is uncle Marshall."</p> - -<p>"I don't think Mrs. Marshall likes me."</p> - -<p>"That is why I kept our secret. She does not like you; why, I do not -know. And had she discovered our engagement she would have told my -father and put an end to it long ago."</p> - -<p>"Well, perhaps Mr. Cass will put an end to it even now."</p> - -<p>Ruth looked round to see that no one was &bout, and then dropped a -butterfly kiss on his forehead.</p> - -<p>"Darling, nothing shall part us. I love you, and you only, you foolish -fellow."</p> - -<p>"And are you sure, quite sure, you care nothing about Heron?"</p> - -<p>"No, no, of course I don't. But I will if you insist on putting your -arm round my waist. Gracious! Here is Aunt Inez!"</p> - -<p>And at this moment an elderly double of Ruth sailed into the winter -garden.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">CHAPTER IV.</a></h4> -<h5>A STRANGE EPISODE.</h5> - -<br> -<p>Mrs. Marshall had reached the mature age of forty-five, but she was -still beautiful. Dark women with hard natures always wear well, and -Ruth's aunt was no exception to the rule. She need not be described -here, for she resembled her niece in all particulars save those of -youth and the exuberant spirits, which rendered the younger woman so -charming. Tall and dignified in her black velvet dress, she advanced to -greet Neil, and her greeting was that of the Ice Queen.</p> - -<p>"You must have had an unpleasant journey," she said, in freezing tones.</p> - -<p>"Thank you," said Webster, with a certain reserve. "I had not a very -pleasant time. But this makes amends," and his eyes wandered to Ruth.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall drew her thick eyebrows together, for she had long -suspected that the two young people were more to each other than -ordinary friends. But at that moment Ruth was equal to the occasion. -Her attitude towards Neil was one of genial hospitality.</p> - -<p>Neither of the young people attempted to carry on the conversation, -and Mrs. Marshall was somewhat at a loss. Turning at last to Ruth, she -asked sharply where the remainder of the guests were.</p> - -<p>"Dinner will be ready in a quarter of an hour," she went on, consulting -a jewelled watch that hung at her girdle. "I hope we shall sit down -punctually, for I detest waiting."</p> - -<p>"So do I," assented her niece, cheerfully. "I am hungry."</p> - -<p>The elder lady took no notice of the flippant reply. "Have you been -giving any concerts lately?" she asked, with the supercilious patronage -of a rich society woman.</p> - -<p>"No, madam," replied the young man. His frequent contact with foreign -artists had accustomed him to this form of address. "The season in -London is hardly propitious just now. I am resting."</p> - -<p>"When do you begin again?"</p> - -<p>"After the new year. It is possible I may give some concerts in Paris."</p> - -<p>"It might be advisable for you to leave England for a time," the lady -said, drily, looking at Ruth.</p> - -<p>"My aunt is thinking of your delicate appearance, Mr. Webster," -interposed the girl, trying to parry the stroke. "This foggy climate -does not suit you in her opinion. Is that not so, Aunt Inez?"</p> - -<p>"Well, it is not quite what I meant, Ruth." And she turned to Neil. -"Have you any relatives in England. Mr. Webster?" she asked.</p> - -<p>The suddenness of the question took away the young man's breath. It was -evident that her brother had not confided in Mrs. Marshall.</p> - -<p>"I have no relatives in the world, madam," he said.</p> - -<p>"You remind me of someone," she went on, fixing her black eyes on him -somewhat fiercely. "Do you sing?"</p> - -<p>"Not at all," he answered, wondering more than ever at the oddity of -this second question. "I have no voice."</p> - -<p>"Humph!" muttered the lady, and turned away. "I must be mistaken."</p> - -<p>"You are certainly mistaken, madam, in crediting me with any relatives. -I am an orphan, a waif, a stranger in the land----"</p> - -<p>"And a great violinist," finished Ruth, glancing defiantly at her aunt. -"That surely ought to cover all deficiencies, Mr. Webster."</p> - -<p>"No doubt it does--to musical people," said the elder lady, coldly.</p> - -<p>The young man felt nettled, and more puzzled than ever at her manner, -and he was about to ask a leading question when Miss Jennie Brawn, -accompanied by Mr. Heron, entered.</p> - -<p>"Oh, here you are," cried Ruth, including both in one gay greeting. -"You are late."</p> - -<p>"The sacred mysteries of the toilet have taken up Miss Brawn's time," -laughed Heron, looking mischievously at the homely face of the girl -beside him.</p> - -<p>"One must do honour to the season," replied Jennie. She was dumpy -and sandy and wore a pince-nez on her turned-up nose. "How are you, -Master?" For she always spoke to Neil Webster in that style. "I am glad -to see you. Your lovely and exquisite music never fails to inspire my -muse."</p> - -<p>Put into plain prose this speech meant that Miss Brawn wrote poems -for drawing-room ballad composers, and that she trusted to music for -inspiration. Miss Brawn further occupied herself with writing short -stories for children's Christmas books, and she figured in a popular -magazine as "Aunt Dilly." She had come to regard herself as a literary -personage.</p> - -<p>"I hope I may be able to inspire you to some I purpose to-night," -Webster said, quietly.</p> - -<p>Young Heron turned away in disdain. He was a handsome country squire, -possessed of no nerves, and no artistic cravings. He came of an old -family, and had an income of four thousand a year. His time was spent -in hunting, polo, shooting, fishing, and tearing round the country in a -motor-car: and he had not much opinion of the "fiddler-fellow," as he -called Webster. But this was due to the fact that he had noticed Ruth's -predilection for him, not to any fault in the man himself. For Geoffrey -loved the girl. He treated Webster with a coldness almost equal to that -of Mrs. Marshall. That lady was his firm friend, and was most anxious -that he should marry her niece. Seeing now his look of disdain, she was -about to speak, when a cheerful voice was heard above the others.</p> - -<p>"Oh, here is my husband," Mrs. Marshall cried, her dark face lighting -up. "I was wondering where he had got to."</p> - -<p>"I am here, my dear Inez, here," and a brisk, stout man darted forward. -"Ruth, my dear, you look charming! Miss Brawn, allow me to congratulate -you upon your toilet. Mr. Webster, good evening." His manner was colder -but with renewed geniality he shook hands with Geoffrey Heron. "Ha, ha, -my boy! a merry Christmas to you!"</p> - -<p>The voluble, active little man rattled on, cutting jokes, laughing -at his own wit, and paying compliments all round, while his tall, -dark wife stood near him listening with a smile on her face. Why Mrs. -Marshall should love her husband so much remained ever a mystery to her -friends. For he was a fat, beer-barrel of a creature, and possessed -neither the looks nor the brains which would be likely to attract as -refined and clever a woman as his wife undoubtedly was. Yet Inez adored -him, although Mr. Robert Marshall was an elderly Don Juan, fond of -the society of pretty girls, and he prided himself no little on his -conquests. There was undoubtedly some charm about him which raptured -the hearts of women. And Mrs. Marshall, as the lawful proprietor of -this universal heart-breaker, took a pride in her proprietorship.</p> - -<p>"I hope you will give us some music to-night," Mr. Marshall said, -turning to the musician, and again his manner was freezing. "Your -playing is delightful--delightful!"</p> - -<p>"I am glad you like it," Neil said, quietly. "Of course, I am always -ready to play here, although, as a rule, I never do so in private -houses."</p> - -<p>"Ha! The exclusiveness of a musician."</p> - -<p>"Or the dignity of an artist, Uncle Robert."</p> - -<p>"Quite so, my dear," said Uncle Robert, turning towards his niece. -"But, of course, Mr. Webster will not wrap his talents up in a napkin -here."</p> - -<p>"The Master is always willing to oblige his friends," put in Jennie.</p> - -<p>"His friends are much honoured," added Aunt Inez, with an iron smile.</p> - -<p>Mr. Heron made no remark. In shaking hands with Webster he had done his -duty. In his own heart the young squire wished the fellow well out of -the way, for Ruth looked at him too often and much too kindly.</p> - -<p>A diversion was made at this moment by the entrance of the host, a -tall, slightly-made man, dark and solemn--a typical Spaniard both in -complexion and bearing. To-night he was in a genial mood, and unbent -more than usual. Nevertheless, although he shook hands with Neil, he -was decidedly colder to him than to the rest of his guests. Indeed, it -was apparent that Neil was not a favourite.</p> - -<p>"A merry Christmas to all," Mr. Cass said, bowing. "Perhaps I am rather -premature; still, it is better to be early than late."</p> - -<p>"So long as you adopt that plan with your presents, papa, I shall not -quarrel with you."</p> - -<p>"You see what a bold daughter I have," he remarked to Heron. "How would -you like to be her father?"</p> - -<p>"Not at all, not at all," replied the young man with a very significant -glance in the direction of Ruth--a glance which made Neil's blood boil.</p> - -<p>"Ha, ha!" cackled Marshall. "We know all about that Heron," and he -slapped him on the back. "But come! Dinner--dinner!"</p> - -<p>And, indeed, at that moment dinner was announced. Mr. Cass gave his arm -to his sister, and to his delight Geoffrey found himself seated beside -Ruth; poor Neil had Mrs. Marshall for his companion. Neither of the two -relished their juxtaposition. Jennie and Don Juan-in-his-Dotage were -happy in the congenial company of each other, and kept the table merry.</p> - -<p>The conversation only flickered feebly with Mr. Marshall's aimless -merriment. Neil, annoyed by the coldness of his reception, was -considering the advisability of a return to town the next day; he -thought he recognised Mrs. Marshall's hand in the chilly reception -of Mr. Cass. For hitherto the merchant had treated him with uniform -kindness, and he was puzzled by this new departure.</p> - -<p>When the ladies had retired to the winter garden Mr. Cass was more -amiable to his guest, the violinist. And the young man, anxious to -please, did his best to make himself agreeable. Heron and Marshall were -discussing county affairs; so the merchant and young Webster had a -quiet talk.</p> - -<p>"I am making a good deal of money now," Neil said. He was recounting -his artistic triumphs. "In a few years I shall be a wealthy man."</p> - -<p>"You must let me invest your capital for you. You artistic folks know -little about business."</p> - -<p>"I should be more than grateful if you would. I daresay, in time, there -will be enough for me to marry on."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass looked keenly at the speaker from under his thick black brows. -"Are you thinking of marrying?" he asked, carelessly. Then, without -waiting for an answer: "I would not if I were you."</p> - -<p>"Why not? I am young, strong----"</p> - -<p>"And nervous," finished his host abruptly. "I have peculiar views about -marriage, and I do not think you are fitted for it. Take my advice, -and keep single. Come," he started to his feet before the other could -reply, "let us join the ladies."</p> - -<p>Webster was annoyed. He had fully intended there and then--since the -opportunity seemed to offer itself--to ask Mr. Cass for his daughter's -hand. Plunged in meditation, he did not see that the object of it was -beckoning to him with her very useful fan, and Heron, taking advantage -of his absorption, secured the vacant seat. Before he could recover -himself, Mr. Cass appeared to carry him off to the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>"You must play to me," he said. "Miss Brawn will accompany you; she -plays well."</p> - -<p>Jennie did, indeed, play more like a professional than an amateur; and -Webster, anxious as ever to please, got his violin. The sounds of the -exquisite music which he drew from the wailing strings brought everyone -to the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>Then Geoffrey Heron sang, and sang well. He chose a typical -drawing-room ballad, flat and insipid. The music, of a lilting order, -suited the words--Miss Jennie Brawn's--which were full of mawkish -sentiment.</p> - -<p>The song was not yet finished when Mr. Marshall suddenly rose and -hurriedly left the room. His wife looked after him with an uneasy -smile, and shortly afterwards followed, to find him in the winter -garden.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter?" she asked, sharply, though she knew quite well -what it was that had stirred him.</p> - -<p>"Jenner," stammered her husband, lifting up a white face. "Heron's -voice reminds me of his. I have never heard him sing before."</p> - -<p>"Nor will you again if you make such a fool of yourself. What do you -mean by rushing out of the room and provoking remark? Jenner is dead -and buried these twelve years."</p> - -<p>"Yes; but think how he died," moaned her husband. "And I was so -intimate with him."</p> - -<p>"You were--to your shame and disgrace. Don't behave so foolishly, -Robert. I don't know what put him into your head in the first place."</p> - -<p>"Heron's voice is so like his--and the looks of Webster."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall turned as pale as her swarthy skin permitted, and the fan -in her hand shook. "What about him?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"He is like----"</p> - -<p>"I know who he is like," she interrupted, sharply. "A mere chance -resemblance. Come back with me."</p> - -<p>"I am going to bed," was the only response, and, turning abruptly, Mr. -Marshall fled up the stairs, leaving his wife gazing after him with a -black frown on her face.</p> - -<p>"I wonder if that young man--but no; it's impossible. Sebastian," she -spoke of her brother, "would not go so far." And after composing herself -with a glass of water she returned to the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>By this time Webster was seated beside Ruth, who was shewing him a book -of photographs. Geoffrey Heron was talking to Mr. Cass, and casting -glances at the two young people who were getting on much too well for -his liking.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the whole room was startled by a cry. It came from Neil, who, -with a white face, was staring at a photograph.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" asked his host, hurrying towards him. "Are you -ill?"</p> - -<p>"Who-who-is this?" stammered young Webster, pointing to the portrait of -a thick-set man who figured in a group.</p> - -<p>"An old clerk of mine," replied Mr. Cass, trying hard to steady his -voice. "That is a photograph of the clerks in my office some twenty -years ago. Why should that face disturb you?"</p> - -<p>"I--I--don't know," was the stammering reply. "Have I seen him in a -dream? His face is quite familiar to me."</p> - -<p>"Pooh! Nonsense!" Mr. Cass had by this time recovered his self-command. -"The man died long ago you never saw him."</p> - -<p>"But I have seen him," persisted Neil. "I have seen him in a dream, -and"--his voice leaped an octave--"I hate him," he exclaimed with -passion. "I hate him."</p> - -<p>They all stared in amazement. Suddenly Ruth cried "Neil--you are -ill--you----"</p> - -<p>"Stop!" cried her father, sharply. "He has fainted."</p> - -<p>And as he spoke Neil fell back insensible on the cushions.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">CHAPTER V.</a></h4> -<h5>A SHADOW OF THE PAST.</h5> - - -<p>Webster recovered from his fainting-fit, but he was weak and ill. It -seemed extraordinary that the sight of a pictured face should have had -such an influence upon him. He himself could give no explanation save -that he had been overcome by a feeling of nausea. So, after an apology, -he went at once to bed. The party broke up, and Ruth retired, wondering -greatly at her lover's strange indisposition.</p> - -<p>Half an-hour later she was seated before her bedroom fire in -dressing-gown and slippers. Having dismissed her maid, she indulged -herself in a reverie with which Neil Webster and her chances of -obtaining her father's consent to her marriage with him were mainly -concerned.</p> - -<p>She was aroused by a knock at the door, and in reply to her invitation -Mrs. Marshall entered the room. At the first glimpse of that iron face -the girl remembered a slip she had made in addressing her lover by his -Christian name.</p> - -<p>"You are in love with that violinist," said the elder woman, sitting -down and fixing her niece with a piercing gaze.</p> - -<p>"How do you know that?" asked the girl, coolly. She had been -half-prepared for the question in spite of Mrs. Marshall's abrupt -entry. In fact, for that very reason she kept on her guard.</p> - -<p>"Pshaw!" ejaculated Aunt Inez, with scorn. "Cannot one woman divine the -feelings of another? Your eyes were never off the creature to-night."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Webster is not a creature," interrupted the girl, angrily.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Webster!" sneered the other. "Why not Neil? You called him so -to-night."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Ruth, defiantly, throwing off her mask. "And I shall call -him so again. You are right; I do love him. And he loves me."</p> - -<p>"I thought as much. And the end of this mutual passion?"</p> - -<p>"Marriage?"</p> - -<p>"Humph! I think your father will have something to say to that."</p> - -<p>"My father will deny me nothing that he thinks will conduce to my -happiness."</p> - -<p>"No doubt. But marriage with this violinist creature hardly comes under -that heading. You know nothing about him."</p> - -<p>"I dare say my father does," retorted Ruth.</p> - -<p>"Very probably," said the elder lady, with venom. "In fact, he may know -sufficient to forbid you entertaining the preposterous idea of becoming -Mrs. Webster. You are a fool, Ruth! Because the man is handsome and -a great musician--I deny neither his looks nor his talents--you have -developed a romantic passion for him. I should not be doing my duty did -I fail to warn your father of this folly. To-morrow Mr. Webster will -leave this house for ever."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" cried Ruth with scorn. "And I, no doubt, will marry Geoffrey -Heron. I know your plans, Aunt Inez. But I'm not for sale, thank you."</p> - -<p>"Don't be insolent," cried Mrs. Marshall, with cold fury. "Mr. Heron -loves you."</p> - -<p>"Very probably," rejoined Miss Cass, carelessly. "But then, you see, I -do not love him."</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless, you will become his wife."</p> - -<p>"I would die first."</p> - -<p>"We shall see," and walked to the door. "I am going to tell your father -of this infatuation."</p> - -<p>The girl uttered an exclamation of dismay and sprang forward. But Mrs. -Marshall had already closed the door.</p> - -<p>"I don't care," cried Ruth, clenching her hands. "My love is strong -enough to stand against my father's anger. I love Neil, and I intend -to marry him. All the fathers and aunts in the world shall not prevent -me." And in this determined frame of mind she went to bed. Her hot -Spanish blood was aflame at the idea of contradiction and dictation. -Nor for nothing was Ruth Cass the granddaughter of an Andalusian -spit-fire, and as such was her father's mother traditionally referred -to in the family.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Mrs. Marshall, equally hot-blooded and determined, took her -way to the library where she knew her brother frequently remained long -after the rest of the household had retired. He was there, sure enough, -sitting before the fire and staring into it with an anxious expression. -At his sister's entrance he started from his seat. For Inez was the -stormy petrel of the Cass family, and he guessed that her appearance at -this unwonted hour indicated an approaching tempest.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" he asked, irritably. "Why are you not in bed?"</p> - -<p>"Because I have something to say which must be said to-night."</p> - -<p>"Well, what is is?" He dropped back into his chair with a look of -resignation.</p> - -<p>"Who is that man Webster?"</p> - -<p>Her brother's face grow black. "Always the same woman," he said, -angrily. "You will never leave well alone. Webster is a violinist, and -he comes here, at my request, because I admire his talents."</p> - -<p>"I know all that. But who is he?"</p> - -<p>"I refuse to tell you."</p> - -<p>"Will you refuse to tell your daughter?" sneered his sister.</p> - -<p>Cass looked up quickly, and something of dismay came over his face. -"Ruth--what has Ruth to do with him?"</p> - -<p>"This much. They are in love with one another; they are secretly -engaged. Is that a sufficient excuse for my seeing you to-night?"</p> - -<p>"I don't believe it. Webster would not----"</p> - -<p>"Oh, as to that, I don't know what hold you have over him."</p> - -<p>"Hold!" repeated Mr. Cass, rising and beginning to pace the room in an -agitated manner. "What do you mean? I have no hold."</p> - -<p>"In that case you should not have thrown him into the society of an -impressionable fool like Ruth. I got the truth out of her to-night, -though I had long suspected it. She loves him; and what's more she will -defy you and marry him."</p> - -<p>"That she shall never do:" he said vehemently.</p> - -<p>"I tell you she will, and without your consent, unless you can talk her -out of this infatuation and marry her to Heron."</p> - -<p>"There will be no need to talk her out of it." Mr. Cass said, coldly. -"Webster will not marry her."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean that he will refuse?"</p> - -<p>"I mean that he will refuse," he replied with decision.</p> - -<p>"And under your influence?"</p> - -<p>"Under my influence. Yes."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" Aunt Inez drew a long breath, for her suspicions as to the -identity of Webster were now confirmed. "Then you intend to use the -knowledge of his father's murder to influence this so-called Webster?"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" Mr. Cass asked angrily.</p> - -<p>"Exactly what I say," retorted his sister. "I am not a fool, if you -are Sebastian, Webster is the son of Jenner, who was murdered at the -Turnpike House. I remember how his mother used to bring him here to beg -for food. He is just the same nervous creature now as he was then. I -could not recollect where I had seen him before until he recognised his -father in that photograph----"</p> - -<p>"He did not recognize his father."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps he did not knew that the face, the sight of which made him -faint, was that of his father," replied Mrs. Marshall. "But his -fainting was quite enough for me. I remember Mrs. Jenner; he resembles -her in every way. He is her son. Deny it if you can."</p> - -<p>"I do not deny it," Cass said sullenly. "But, for Heaven's sake, Inez, -leave things alone, or harm will come of it."</p> - -<p>"Why, in Heaven's name, did you bring him down here?"</p> - -<p>"I never thought he would fall in love with Ruth. I brought him out of -sheer kindness, because I was sorry for the poor, lonely young fellow. -I will arrange the matter. Rest assured he never marry Ruth."</p> - -<p>"I hope not," said Mrs. Marshall, preparing to go. "I have done my -duty."</p> - -<p>"No doubt, but I wonder you dare speak as you do."</p> - -<p>Her face grew hard as stone. "I am never afraid to speak," she said, -haughtily, "or to act. I have set my heart on a marriage between Ruth -and Geoffrey Heron. Webster--as you call him--must go."</p> - -<p>"He shall go," assented Mr. Cass and, satisfied that all was well, his -sister left him. Then he dropped back into his chair with a sigh and -gazed a again into the fire. He foresaw trouble, which there appeared -no means of averting. It was three o'clock before he got to bed. And by -that time he had determined how to act.</p> - -<p>"Webster shall refuse to marry her," he said, "and he shall go away. -She will soon forget him, and end by becoming Mrs. Heron. With Webster -away all will be well."</p> - -<p>Having made his plans, Mr. Cass proceeded to act upon them. He wished -to see for himself if Ruth was really in love with Neil, and to -learn, if possible, the depth and extent of her feelings. With this -scheme in his mind, he was excessively genial to the young man, and -at the breakfast-table on the following morning placed him next his -daughter--a piece of folly which made Mrs. Marshall open her eyes. Ruth -saw her aunt's look, and, in sheer defiance, allowed herself to behave -towards Neil with a somewhat ostentatious friendliness. Naturally -enough, Geoffrey Heron became sulky, while Miss Brawn and Mr. Marshall -kept up a continuous chatter.</p> - -<p>"Well?" Inez said to her brother as they were preparing for church.</p> - -<p>"You are right," he said. "I have no doubt now of her feeling for him."</p> - -<p>"And you will deal with the matter?"</p> - -<p>"You can trust me. I know what to do."</p> - -<p>She was satisfied with this assurance, and set off in a devout frame -of mind, and, taking Geoffrey with her, shewed him very clearly that -she was on his side. Indeed, as they returned to the house after the -Christmas service, he opened his heart to her. Mrs. Marshall told him -that she had seen it all along, and that nothing on her part should -remain undone that would aid in bringing about the marriage.</p> - -<p>"But she is in love with that fiddler-fellow," the disconsolate young -man said.</p> - -<p>"Oh, my dear Mr. Heron," and Mrs. Marshall smiled, "that is only a -girl's love for the arts. She admires his music, as we all do, and -perhaps she shews her appreciation in rather a foolish way. But I -cannot believe she loves him."</p> - -<p>"At all events she does not care for me."</p> - -<p>"Don't be too sure of that. The more she cares for you the more likely -she is to try and conceal her feelings."</p> - -<p>"Why, in Heaven's name?" asked Geoffrey.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall laughed. "Because it is the way of women," she said.</p> - -<p>"Do you think, then, that I ought to speak to her?"</p> - -<p>"Not just now. Wait till Mr. Webster and his too fascinating violin -have taken their departure. Then she will forget this--this Bohemian."</p> - -<p>"Webster isn't a bad sort of fellow," Heron said, apologetically. "In -spite of his long hair, he is something of a sportsman. He has seen a -good deal of the world, too, and he is plucky in his own way. I like -him well enough but, of course, I can't help feeling jealous. You see, -I love Ruth--I may call her Ruth to you--so much."</p> - -<p>"There is no need for jealousy. Ruth will be your wife. I promise you -that; you have me on your side."</p> - -<p>"I won't have her forced into the marriage," he said, sturdily.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall brushed the suggestion aside.</p> - -<p>Neil's unhappy state of mind had taken him out into the cold. The quiet -thoughts of the morning had given way to perfect torture, and he could -in no way account for the change. So far, indeed, as his nerves were -concerned, he never could account for anything in connection with them -any more than could the physicians whom he had consulted. He was the -prey of a highly neurotic temperament which tortured his life, and he -had a vivid imagination which made him exaggerate the slightest worries -into catastrophes.</p> - -<p>An hour's brisk walking over the crisp snow brought him to a solitary -place far from every human habitation. The village had vanished, and -Neil found himself in the centre--as it seemed--of a lonely white world -arched over by a blue sky. All around the landscape was buried in -drifts of snow, which, dazzling white in the sunlight, were painful to -look upon. He walked along some disused roads, guiding himself by the -hedges which ran along the sides. Shortly the sky began to cloud over -rapidly, to assume a leaden aspect; and finally down came the snow.</p> - -<p>He turned his face homewards, anxious to get back before the night came -on. But as the snow fell thicker he grew bewildered, and began to take -the situation seriously. Suddenly, as he trudged along, a building -loomed up before him through the fallen flakes; it stood where four -roads met, and he guessed at once that it was an old turnpike house. On -a nearer approach he saw that it was empty; the windows were broken, -the door was half open, and it was fenced in by a jungle of bushes like -the palace of the Sleeping Beauty.</p> - -<p>"At any rate it will be a shelter," he thought; "and when the storm -clears off I can get home. Only three o'clock," he added, looking at -his watch. "I'll rest a bit."</p> - -<p>He broke his way through the drifts which were piled up before the -door, and stumbled in. The moment his foot touched the threshold a -vague feeling of fear seized upon him; the place was quite empty, -thick with dust and festooned with cobwebs. There was not a stick of -furniture; yet it seemed to him that there should have been a bare deal -table, two deal chairs, and a fire in the grate. "Had he ever been here -before?" he asked himself. But he could find no answer to the question. -Finally, shaking off the feeling of depression which the influence -of this house had brought upon him, he lay down on the bare boards -and tried to sleep away the time. In this way, by the degree of some -mysterious Power, the man was brought back to the room where his father -had been murdered twelve or thirteen years before. And he was ignorant -of the terrible truth.</p> - -<p>The snow continued to fall steadily, but there was no wind. The -absolute quiet was soothing to the tired man, and after a time his eyes -closed. For a while he slept peacefully as a child then his face grew -dark, his teeth and hands clenched themselves, and he groaned in agony. -He dreamt--and this was the manner of his dream:</p> - -<p>He was still in the bare room, but a fire burnt in the grate. A table -and two chairs furnished the apartment, and made apparent the frightful -poverty. The dreamer was no longer a man, but a child playing with -a toy horse by the fire. Near the table sat a woman sewing. Then a -man entered--the man whose face he had seen in the photograph. A -quarrel ensued between him and the woman; the child--the dreamer -himself--became suddenly possessed of a blind rage against the man. -Then all faded in darkness. He was in bed still a child--again in -darkness. Then once more he was in the room. The window was open; near -it lay the dead body of the man, the blood welling from his heart. At -the door stood the woman, a knife in her hand, a look of terror on her -face. Then came rain, and mist, and cold, and the dreamer felt that he -was falling into a gulf of darkness, never again to emerge into the -light of day. But the woman's face, with blue eyes looking from under a -crown of fair hair, still shone like a star in the gloom. It smiled on -the dreamer, then it vanished as he awoke with a cry.</p> - -<p>Neil Webster sprang to his feet with the perspiration beading his -forehead and shaking in every limb. The dream had been so vivid! Was it -but a dream? Here was the room, here the open window, and here, where -he had seen the dead body of the man, black stains of blood marked the -floor. He started back with a cry as he saw it all, and flung himself -out into the snow which still kept falling in thick flakes. Away from -that house he ran, feeling that he had recovered the memory of his -childhood. His father had been murdered. By whom? That was the question -he asked himself as he sped onwards through the snow.</p> - -<p>"Oh Heavens!" he kept murmuring. "What does it all mean? Why was I sent -to that house to learn this terrible truth? Why? Why?"</p> - -<p>But the snow fell ever more thickly, and the young man fled along the -road. In the same way had his mother fled with him in her arms, fled -through the mists to escape the horror of the Turnpike House.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">CHAPTER VI.</a></h4> -<h5>MR. CASS SPEAKS.</h5> - -<br> -<p>Jennie Brawn sat in her bedroom with an agonised took on her face, with -inky fingers and tumbled hair. Miss Brawn was courting the Muse.</p> - -<p>As yet she had had but ill success, for the Muse was not in a kindly -mood.</p> - -<p>"If, dear, thou should'st unhappy be, Remember me, Remember me!" -murmured the poetess. "I think that will do for a refrain. But how am I -to begin? Ah!" with a sudden inspiration. "Spring in the first verse, -summer and roses in the second, then winter and dying for an effective -finish." And she began to thresh out the first lines.</p> - -<p>"The spring is flowering all the world----"</p> - -<p>"Humph!" she broke off. "That sounds as though spring were a baker! I -must try again."</p> - -<p>But before she could think of an alternative line the door burst open -and Ruth rushed in violently, all on fire with excitement. "Jennie! -Jennie! she cried, plumping down on the bed. I've had a proposal!"</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Jennie, quite phlegmatic, laid down her pen. "Geoffrey Heron has -you to be his wife?"</p> - -<p>"That is the plain English of it, I suppose," Ruth said, impatiently. -"Of course I said 'No.'"</p> - -<p>"Of course you did," remarked the prosaic Miss Brawn. For prosaic she -was in ordinary matters, in spite of her poetic gift. "You are in love -with the Master?" She put this in the form of a query.</p> - -<p>"Haven't I told you a thousand times!" cried Miss Cass. "I love him as -dearly as he loves me."</p> - -<p>"That's a pity."</p> - -<p>"Why is it a pity?" asked the girl, her face flushing.</p> - -<p>"Oh. I know you don't like the truth," Jennie went on, calmly. "But I -always tell it, even when it is disagreeable. I don't think you are the -kind of wife to suit the Master. You are too impetuous, too fond of -admiration. You would never be content to take a back seat."</p> - -<p>"I should think not!" cried Miss Cass, indignantly. "Catch me taking -a back seat! I want to admired, to have an ample income and a big -position. I am an individual, not a piece of furniture."</p> - -<p>"Marry Mr. Heron, then," advised Jennie, "and you will have all you -wish for. He belongs to a good county family, and can give you a -position in society. He has a handsome income, and with your own dowry -as well you would be rich."</p> - -<p>"But I love Neil," persisted Ruth, piteously.</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, you don't. You think you love him, but you are only attracted -by his charm of manner."</p> - -<p>"I believe you want to marry him yourself," cried Ruth, pettishly.</p> - -<p>Jennie flushed, for, unknown to herself, Ruth had touched upon Miss -Brawn's romance. She did love Webster, and she would have given many -years of her life had that love been returned. But she saw no chance of -this, and, like a sensible girl, crushed the passion in its birth.</p> - -<p>"I never cry for the moon," she said, quietly "and there is no chance -that the Master, who loves beautiful things, will ever fall in love -with plain me. But if I were to marry him I should be prepared to -make myself his echo--the piece of furniture you so scornfully allude -to. Believe me, my dear, it is better in every way that you should -reconsider your answer to Mr. Heron."</p> - -<p>"I won't! I don't deny that I like Geoffrey very much indeed, and he -took his rejection, so kindly, poor fellow, that I did feel very like -changing my mind. But Neil--Neil!" Ruth clasped her hands and raised -her expressive eyes. "Oh, I can't give him up."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps your father will make you."</p> - -<p>"No, my father can make me do nothing I have not set my heart on. And -when it comes to the point, I'll defy my father."</p> - -<p>"That is wrong."</p> - -<p>"No, it isn't. I have to live with my husband, whoever he may be, and I -have a right to choose him for myself. I choose Neil."</p> - -<p>"Humph!" murmured Jennie, shaking her rough head. "You say that now -while all is smooth; but if trouble came, and the Master was proved to -be an ineligible parti, you would your mind."</p> - -<p>"You shall see. Besides, what trouble could come?"</p> - -<p>"I merely suggest it. Trouble might come, you know. Life is not -entirely sunshine; clouds will arise. Well, when they do, we shall see -if you really love the Master. At present it is merely a girl's fancy."</p> - -<p>"Why do you talk to me as if you were a grandmother?" cried Ruth, half -offended.</p> - -<p>"I am young a years but old in experience," said Miss Brawn, with a -sigh. "We are nine in our family, and father, as a Civil Service clerk, -has only a small income. I have a lot of trouble to make both ends -meet, with no mother to help. They all rely on my brain and my fingers, -and the responsibility makes me sober."</p> - -<p>"Poor dear," said Ruth, kissing the freckled cheek. "I wonder you write -poetry with all your anxieties."</p> - -<p>"I have to, and when you have to you do," replied Jennie, somewhat -incoherently. "I make a very good income out of my verse, though what -I get is not what it ought to be. Why, some of my songs have made -thousands of pounds, but of course the publisher and composer share -that between them. I only get ten guineas or so."</p> - -<p>"What a shame!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, isn't it. However, I don't want to talk about myself, except to -thank you for giving me such a perfectly lovely Christmas. As to your -refusal of Mr. Heron, I am sure you are wrong."</p> - -<p>"I don't think so. But if I were it would be perfectly easy to whistle -him back. At present I intend to marry Neil, and he is going to ask my -father's consent to-night, or to-morrow. If there is trouble you shall -see how I stand up for him. You write romances, Jennie, I act them." -And with a rustle of silken skirts Ruth vanished.</p> - -<p>Jennie sighed as she once more took up her pen. It did seem hard that -this girl should have all the money, all the looks, and the chance of -becoming the Master's wife. Mis Brawn was not an envious person, as we -have said, but she could not help grudging Ruth the favours of Fortune -which she seemed to value so little.</p> - -<p>The Christmas dinner passed off that night in the orthodox fashion. Mr. -Cass made the usual speech; the usual compliments were exchanged, and -the usual reminiscences indulged in. It was quite a family gathering, -save that Mr. Cass's eldest daughter was absent. She was married, and -had elected to stay with her husband in London. As a matter of fact, -Mrs. Chisel--such was her name--could not approach her sister in the -matter of looks, and being of a jealous nature did not like--to use an -expressive, if somewhat vulgar, phrase--to take a back seat. Ruth was -always the recipient of all the admiration and all the attention, so -her sister preferred to stay in a circle wherein her own looks could -ensure her a certain amount of queendom. Mr. Cass referred to her -absence, drank her health, and considered that he had done his duty.</p> - -<p>But he had yet another duty to perform towards his unmarried daughter. -It was his intention to speak to Neil Webster that night, and, once -and for all, put an end to any hopes that young man might cherish with -regard to Ruth. She was the apple on the topmost bough which he could -not hope to gather; and it would be as well to inform him of this fact -at once. Mr. Cass was, in the main, a kindly man, and, for reasons best -known to himself, was well disposed towards Neil. He hated to make -trouble at this season of peace and goodwill. But the imminence of the -danger forced him on. Besides, he had given a promise to his sister -Inez, and he knew very well she would allow him no rest until he had -done what she desired.</p> - -<p>"How dull you are to-night," whispered Ruth to Neil in the winter -garden after dinner. "What is the matter?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing. I went out for a walk to-day and I am rather tired."</p> - -<p>"Were you caught in the snow?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but I managed to get home all right, as you see. I sought shelter -in the old Turnpike House."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall, who had seated herself close at hand, started at the -words. "The Turnpike House!" she said, anxiously. "Did you go in there."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Mrs. Marshall. It was my refuge from the storm."</p> - -<p>"Strange!" she murmured, thinking of the crime which had taken place -there so many years before--the crime in which the parents of this -young man had been concerned. "It has not a good reputation, that -house," she added.</p> - -<p>Webster fixed his eyes on her. "How is that?" he said.</p> - -<p>"Oh, don't you know?" cried Jennie, who had come up to them. "A -dreadful murder was committed there! A man was killed, and the house is -said to be haunted."</p> - -<p>"A man was killed?" repeated Neil, his breath coming quickly. "And who -killed him?"</p> - -<p>Before Jennie could make reply Mr. Cass, who had been listening -uneasily, interposed sharply: "Don't talk of murders, Miss Brawn. The -subject is not fit for Christmas. Come and play for Mr. Webster."</p> - -<p>"Thank you," the young man said. "I do not think I can play this -evening."</p> - -<p>There was a murmur of disappointment, but Neil was firm. "I am not very -well," he said, wearily. "My nerves again."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" remarked Mrs. Marshal, in a low voice. "That comes of going to -the Turnpike House."</p> - -<p>"Hush!" rebuked her brother under his breath. "Hold your tongue, Inez, -and leave me to deal with this."</p> - -<p>As there was to be no music, Jennie and Mr. Marshall set to work to -amuse the guests, and even Heron took part in the games. But after a -time Ruth declared that she could play no longer and abruptly went -away. Perhaps Geoffrey's reproachful looks were too much for her -equanimity. At all events she sought the empty drawing-room and sat -down at the piano. In a few minutes she was joined by Neil.</p> - -<p>"Oh! are you here?" she said, coldly enough. "What is the matter?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing. I have come to have a few words with you."</p> - -<p>"It is rather late in the day, Neil. You were out ail the afternoon, -and I was left to Mr. Heron."</p> - -<p>"I did not feel well," he said. "But I daresay you were happy with him."</p> - -<p>"Indeed I was not. Oh. Neil!" she murmured, looking up at him with eyes -shining like stars. "He proposed to me to-day and I refused him."</p> - -<p>"My darling," he cried, and then drew back. He was thinking of his dream -and wondering if he had the right to hold this girl to her engagement. -Ruth misunderstood him and pouted.</p> - -<p>"I thought you would be pleased."</p> - -<p>"I am pleased. I want you all to myself. All the same, perhaps, you do -well to marry Heron."</p> - -<p>"Then you don't love me?" she burst out, with wounded pride.</p> - -<p>"Love you?" he repeated, fiercely. "Heaven knows I love you than my own -soul. But I am beginning to think that I am not a fit husband for you. -My position is so insecure, my nerves are in such a wretched state. -Then again, your father may object. Indeed, I think he will."</p> - -<p>"Why not ask him before you make so certain?" cried the girl, eagerly.</p> - -<p>"I will do so to-night, but I tell you frankly, I am prepared for a -refusal."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, there will be no refusal. I am sure he will not put any bar -between us. Dear Neil, do you not took so sad. I am certain all will be -well, and we shall be married sooner than you think."</p> - -<p>"Well, it all depends upon your father."</p> - -<p>"Indeed, it al depends upon me." Then she rose from the piano. "If you -were a true lover, Neil, you would not make all these objections. If -you do not care for me I shall marry Mr. Heron."</p> - -<p>"Ah! you like him, then?" cried the young man with a pang.</p> - -<p>"I like him, but I--love you!" whispered Ruth, and dropping a kiss on -his forehead she fled away before he could stop her.</p> - -<p>But when alone again she began to wonder whether she really did love -him. He was so cold and strange in manner that he sometimes chilled -her, and although he persisted in declaring that he loved her, she -could not help feeling that something had come between them. What -it was she could not think, and his refusal to explain piqued her. -She after all, had a right to share his secrets, and he declined to -trust her. She was a very good-hearted girl and affectionate; but she -thought a great deal of herself, for flattery and adulation had been -her portion all her life. Jennie had divined rightly. What she felt for -Webster was not so much love for the man as admiration for the artist.</p> - -<p>"Wait till he speaks to my father," she said to herself. "If he should -consent, Neil will be once more the affectionate fellow he was."</p> - -<p>That night came young Webster's opportunity of speaking to Mr. Cass. -They found themselves alone in the smoking-room somewhere after eleven. -Mrs. Marshall had whisked her husband off, intimating that she wished -to speak to him; and as a matter of fact she desired to tell him of her -discovery as to Ned's identity. The communication, she knew, would not -be a pleasant one for him to hear from his association with the young -man's father. Besides which, it is not always agreeable to remember -that you have been the friend of a man who has been murdered.</p> - -<p>Heron also had left the smoking-room early, so the two who were so -desirous of speaking to each other had their wishes gratified.</p> - -<p>"You are not in spirits to-night, Neil," the elder man, who always -addressed him thus when they were alone. And why not, seeing that -Webster was his protege?</p> - -<p>"No," was the gloomy reply. "I do not feel satisfied with my position."</p> - -<p>"And why not? You have found fame and money, and----"</p> - -<p>"I know all that," interrupted Neil, "but I am thinking of my parents. -I do not know who they were."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass was quite prepared for this. Indeed, it was not the first time -the young man had asked him! and his answer now was the same as he had -always made. "I have told you a dozen times that your parents were -Americans and died in the States. I knew them intimately, and so was -the means of bringing you to England. There is nothing for you to worry -about."</p> - -<p>"Why cannot I recollect my childhood?" persisted Neil.</p> - -<p>"Because you had a severe illness which affected your memory."</p> - -<p>"Then there is nothing in my past that I need to be ashamed of?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing," if you mean as regards your parents. "As to yourself, my dear -Neil, your life has been most exemplary. I am proud of you."</p> - -<p>"Are you sufficiently proud of me to let me be your son-in-law?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass tugged at his long moustache. "I cannot truthfully say that I -should like that," he said. "Does Ruth care for you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; we want to marry--with your consent."</p> - -<p>"That you shall never have."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"I don't approve of the marriage. For your own sake, don't ask the -reason."</p> - -<p>Neil Webster started to his feet with a look of horror. "Ah!" he cried. -"Then the dream was true. My father was murdered!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass rose also pale and agitated. "In Heaven's name who told you -that?" he cried.</p> - -<p>"I dreamt it in the Turnpike House----"</p> - -<p>"The very place," Mr. Cass said, under his breath.</p> - -<p>"It was a dream, and yet not a dream," continued Neil. "Myself I -believe it was a recovery of the memories which you say were destroyed -by illness. Ah! Now I know why you will not let me marry your daughter. -It is because I am the son of a murdered man!"</p> - -<p>"No," was the deliberate answer. "You may as well know the truth. Your -mother is now in prison for the murder of her husband--of your father!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">CHAPTER VII.</a></h4> -<h5>WEBSTER'S CHILDHOOD.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Knowing what he did of Neil Webster. Mr. Cass quite prepared to see -him faint upon hearing the terrible truth. But to his unconcealed -astonishment the young man, beyond losing his colour, remained unmoved.</p> - -<p>"I should like to hear the whole story, please," he said, quietly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass was almost frightened by his calmness. "A glass of wine----"</p> - -<p>"No. I want nothing. You have told me the worst. What remains to be -said can affect me but little. The whole story, please, from the -beginning. When I am in possession of the facts I may be able to see -some way of saving my mother from her unjust fate."</p> - -<p>"Her unjust fate!" repeated Mr. Cass, with a flush. "Why, man alive, -she had all the justice the English law could give."</p> - -<p>"Did she admit her guilt?</p> - -<p>"She neither admitted nor denied it. Not a word would she say, good or -bad, for or against. Throughout the trial she maintained an absolute -silence, and went to prison uncomplainingly."</p> - -<p>"To my mind that looks likes innocence."</p> - -<p>The merchant moved restlessly in his chair. "Do not force me to say -unpleasant things," he remarked, irritably.</p> - -<p>"I want you to say exactly what you feel," retorted Neil. "I am here to -hear the truth, however disagreeable. It is only by knowing all that -I can help my mother. If you will not tell me, then I must see the -lawyers who were concerned in the case. I don't think they will mind -giving me pain. But if you are the friend I take you to be, you will -speak out."</p> - -<p>His self-possession was so much at variance with his usual demeanour -that Mr. Cass stared.</p> - -<p>"If you will have it, then," he said roughly, "I believe your mother -was guilty. Had there been the slightest chance of proving her -innocence, she would have done so for your sake."</p> - -<p>"Ah! my poor mother!" Nell's face grew soft and tender, and a look of -deep affection came into his eyes. "My mother--how she loved me!"</p> - -<p>"Can you remember her love?" asked Mr. Cass, doubtfully.</p> - -<p>"Now I can." He raised his hand to his forehead. "It all comes back to -me--all. That dream has given me the key to the past, and the memories -of my childhood rush back upon me. I know how I hated my father"--his -face grew dark--"and I know, also, how badly he treated my mother. If -she killed him, she did right."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass shuddered. "I quite believe all that," he said, drily. "You -were born hating your father, and your mother taught you to look upon -him as your worst enemy. That you should deem her action in killing him -a right one is exactly what you would believe, having regard to your -childish feelings towards him. Indeed, I believe that had you grown -up while your father was still in existence you would have killed him -yourself."</p> - -<p>"Very probably," remarked Neil, just as drily. "Indeed. I did try!"</p> - -<p>"What? I don't understand!"</p> - -<p>"I daresay not, seeing my mother kept silence from the time of her -arrest. But I remember that on the night my father was murdered at the -Turnpike House I flew at him with a knife. I forgot all that took place -after that, except that I was in the room and saw his dead body lying -under the open window--the open window," he repeated, quietly, and with -significance. "Do not forget that, Mr. Cass."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"I mean that someone else might have killed him. The window was open. -Why should it have been open unless the true murderer had gained -entrance by it, and had fled through it when his deed was accomplished? -I do not believe that my mother is guilty, in spite of her silence. She -has some reason for holding her tongue."</p> - -<p>"I can't think what the reason can be," replied Mr. Cass, wearily, -leaning his head on his hands. "For love of you she would have chosen -to remain free; yet when a word--according to you--might have saved -her, she held her tongue and risked the gallows."</p> - -<p>For the first time Neil Webster shuddered. "How was it she escaped -that?" he asked, in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"The case was so extraordinary that a petition to the Home Secretary -was got up, and he commuted the sentence to one of imprisonment for -life. Yet I must tell you the general opinion was that she was guilty. -She was pitied for all that when the story of her husband's brutality -came out in the evidence."</p> - -<p>"And my father?" said Neil, impatiently raising his head. "Tell me -more."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass hesitated a moment.</p> - -<p>"Jenner deserved his fate. He treated his wife abominably; she had been -left to starve. After having been put to many shifts----"</p> - -<p>Webster raised his hand with a cry of pain. "I remember; don't!" he -said. "My poor mother! I can recall in some degree--that is, so far as -a child could have understood--our terrible life in London. Then we -came down here."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I did what I could for your mother, for I had always respected -her very much. But she was a difficult person to manage; and she -refused my help on the ground that it was charity."</p> - -<p>"So it was," Neil said between his teeth. "And I have lived on your -charity ever since!"</p> - -<p>"My dear lad"--Mr. Cass laid his hand on the young man's arm--"don't -be so thin-skinned. Whatever I have done, you have more than repaid me -by your success. And if you feel that you cannot bring yourself to -accept the money I have spent upon your education, why, then, pay me a -sum to be agreed upon between us. Surely that will set your mind at -rest."</p> - -<p>Neil shook his head. "The obligation remains the same," he said, -gloomily. "I shall ever remain grateful to you, and I will repay the -money. I know that whosoever else may be a scoundrel--and the world is -full of them--you, at least, are a good man."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass winced as Neil held out his hand. But the feeling passed away -in a moment, and he did not refuse the proffer of friendship.</p> - -<p>"The best of us are bad," he said, with a sigh, "but I do my best to -behave as a man should. However," he added, glancing at the clock, -"it is growing late. Will you hear the rest of this story to-morrow -morning?"</p> - -<p>"No," and Neil settled himself resolutely in his chair. "Now that I -have heard so much I want to know all. My mother lived in the Turnpike -House, did she not?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; it was a tumble-down old place, and belonged to Heron's father."</p> - -<p>"To Heron's father?" Neil made a wry face, for he did not like the -idea.</p> - -<p>"She paid no rent for it," continued Mr. Cass, taking no notice of the -interruption. "Heron refused to accept any. Then she did sewing for -several people in the village. My sister, Mrs. Marshall, who was then -unmarried, gave her work, and sometimes food--when she would accept it, -which was not often. In this way, then, she lived, and found all her -joy in you!"</p> - -<p>"I have a faint memory of that terrible life," said Neil, musingly. "My -poor mother, with her bright hair and blue eyes, always so kind and -tender to me. Then that night--ah! how it all comes back to me! The -dream--the dream!" and in his agitation he rose to his feet. "It was a -shadow of the past--that dream. I was playing with a toy horse by the -fire; my mother was sewing. Then he came--my father. I remember running -at him with a knife, and afterwards--nothing."</p> - -<p>"Is that the very last of your memories?" asked Mr. Cass, watching him -keenly, and with an uneasiness he found it hard to disguise.</p> - -<p>Neil Webster sat down and passed his hand again across his eyes with -a weary gesture. "Yes--no--that is, I remember the dead body with the -blood--and afterwards the cold--the mist--the--the----" He made a -gesture as though brushing away the past. "I remember nothing more!"</p> - -<p>"The cold and the mist are easily explained," Mr. Cass said after a -pause. "Your mother, after the murder, took you in her arms and fled -from the scene of her crime."</p> - -<p>"Don t say that!" cried the young man. "Give her the benefit of the -doubt."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass smiled sadly. "Unfortunately, there was no doubt, my dear boy. -Your father was killed with a buck-handled knife which had been used to -cut bread, and----"</p> - -<p>"The knife--the knife!" muttered Neil, straining his memory. "Yes, it -was with a buck-handled knife I ran at him!"</p> - -<p>"The knife was your mother's, and was found beside the body of the dead -man. Undoubtedly your father came back after his release from prison, -and insulted the woman he had ruined----"</p> - -<p>"I can't bear it--not a word more of that. Only the fact."</p> - -<p>"Well, there must have been a quarrel, and your mother--goaded beyond -herself, no doubt--struck at your father with the knife which was lying -on the table."</p> - -<p>"How do you know that?"</p> - -<p>"Because the table was spread for supper, and the knife was of the kind -that is used to cut bread."</p> - -<p>"I remember something about eating," muttered Neil. "Go, on, please."</p> - -<p>"The murder was discovered next morning by a woman who had gone to -the Turnpike House to get Mrs. Jenner was doing for her. She gave the -alarm, and suspicion fell at once upon your mother. The police were -informed, and search was made. Your mother was found five miles away, -under a hedge, insensible, with you in her arms. She had succumbed to -cold and but she still lived."</p> - -<p>"Would she had died altogether!" said Neil, sadly.</p> - -<p>"You were in a high fever, raving mad."</p> - -<p>"What did I rave about?"</p> - -<p>"About the dead man and the blood; and you frequently cried out to your -mother to kill him. That had something to do with bring the crime home -to her."</p> - -<p>"Cruel--cruel, to take a child's ravings as evidence!"</p> - -<p>"That was not done," said Mr. Cass sharply. "The law treated the -prisoner"--Neil winced--"perfectly fairly. But the suspicion was -instilled into the hearts of those who had heard your words."</p> - -<p>"She didn't deny the charge?"</p> - -<p>"She denied nothing--hardly opened her mouth, in fact. I got a lawyer -to her--I saw her myself and implored her to speak but she obstinately -refused. All she asked was, that I should take charge of you, which I -promised I would do."</p> - -<p>Neil looked up sharply, and asked the pointed question "Why?"</p> - -<p>"I don't think you should ask me that," Mr. Cass said, somewhat pained. -"Have I not proved myself a friend to you? Was it not natural that I -should feel sympathy for a girl who had been a member of my household. -Your mother, remember, had been governess to my eldest daughter? And -your father had been in my employment. Why should you suspect me of any -motive save that of sorrow for the ruin of a woman--whom I had liked as -a bright girl--and pity for a helpless child?"</p> - -<p>"Forgive me if I am wrong." Neil shook hands with much penitence. "But -I am suspicious now of all the world. Heaven help me! Go on."</p> - -<p>"There is very little more to tell. I took charge of you as I had -promised, and I placed you with Mrs. Jent, who is an old servant of -mine. You were seriously ill, and were not expected to live. Seeing -that your mother was in gaol and your father dead by her hand, I used -to think sometimes that it would have been better for you to have died."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad I did not," cried Neil with vehemence. "I have lived to -vindicate my mother's innocence."</p> - -<p>"You are not likely to where others have failed," Mr. Cass said, sadly. -"However, although I thought it would better for yourself and for all -concerned that you should not recover, I did not feel justified in -letting you slip through my fingers. I got the best doctors to see you, -and they managed to pull you round after months of suspense. But the -memory of your childhood, up to the time of your illness, was gone from -you for ever. It was just as well, seeing how terrible that childhood -had been. I made no attempt to revive your dormant memory, and I warned -Mrs. Jent not to say anything either. We supplied you with a fictitious -past."</p> - -<p>"I know," said Neil, with a faint smile. "The American parents! I -believed in them until I went to New York. Then I made enquiries; but -as I could find no trace of them, and could hear nothing about them, I -began to doubt their existence. If it had not been for my relating that -dream, you would not have informed me of the truth."</p> - -<p>"No," Mr. Cass said, honestly. "I would not, seeing what pain it must -have inflicted upon you. I should have simply requested you to forget -Ruth, and go away; the rest I would have spared you."</p> - -<p>"I thank you for your forbearance," Neil said, politely, but coldly. -"But Providence knew that I had a duty to perform, and so gave me back -the past. Oh, it was no miracle!" he went on, with a shrug. "I am not -a believer in the supernatural, as you know. I can see how it all came -about. Can't you?"</p> - -<p>"No; I confess that I am amazed that the dream should have been so -accurate, or, indeed, that it should have come to you at all."</p> - -<p>"Dreams, I have heard, are only the impressions of our waking hours in -more confused forms," said Webster, quietly. "And as I had received no -injury to the brain itself, my memory was only dormant, not destroyed. -It was awakened by the sight of the face in that photograph."</p> - -<p>"Ah! so it was," Mr. Cass said. "And the sight recalled your -instinctive hatred for the man. That was why you fainted."</p> - -<p>"Exactly; and no doubt, all that night, my brain was busily running -back through the years. Then I found the Turnpike House."</p> - -<p>"What took you there?"</p> - -<p>Neil shrugged his shoulders. "It might have been accident; but I do not -think it was. My own belief is that the awakening of memory drew me -there, and when I got into that room all came back to me in my sleep. -However, I know the truth now, so nothing else matters. Henceforth I -devote myself to proving the innocence of my mother."</p> - -<p>"You will never do that," Mr. Cass said, decisively.</p> - -<p>"You think so because you believe her guilty."</p> - -<p>"I believe her wrongs drove her mad, and that it was in a fit of -madness she killed her husband. Yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, I don't agree with you," Neil said. "The first thing I intend to -do is to see her. Where is she?"</p> - -<p>Cass wrote down the information on a slip of paper, and threw it -across the table to the young man. "But I think you are starting on -a wild-goose chase," he said. "Take my advice, and leave the matter -alone. You are Neil Webster, the violinist. You have no connection with -crime!"</p> - -<p>"No, I am Gilbert Jenner, the son of a murdered man and of a woman -wrongfully accused. I loved your daughter, Mr. Cass--I love her -still--but I give her up. I will not see her again. To-morrow morning I -leave this house for ever!"</p> - -<p>"No," said his host, with decision. "If you intend to make an attempt -to prove your mother's innocence, I have a right to help you, and to -know your plans. So be it. Do your appointed work." He offered his -hand. "As to Ruth----"</p> - -<p>Neil interrupted him. "She is a dream of the past. My new life has -nothing to do with love--but with revenge."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h4> -<h5>HERCULES AND OMPHALE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The next morning Neil Webster was conspicuous by his absence. His -excuse was that he had been suddenly recalled to town on business. Mrs. -Marshall was not deceived, and on the first available opportunity she -drew her brother aside.</p> - -<p>"You have got rid of him, I see," she remarked, with evident -satisfaction. "But Ruth will not submit quietly to all this. In the -first place, she will refuse to believe that he has given her up; -such a sacrifice is beyond the conception of a pretty girl. In the -second----"</p> - -<p>"Wait a bit, Inez. Let us dispose of Number One first of all. Ruth will -be convinced that Webster has given her up, for the simple reason that -he has left a letter telling her so."</p> - -<p>"Ah! Then that is wily she has not come down to breakfast. I daresay -she is weeping and storming in her room. I'll go and----"</p> - -<p>"No, no. Leave her alone. If you go and annoy her, there is no knowing -what she will do. You know how headstrong-----"</p> - -<p>"You should have trained her better," said his sister.</p> - -<p>"All the training in the world will not tame our mother's blood in -her--or in you, for the matter of that!"</p> - -<p>"I know I am strong-minded, if that is what you mean."</p> - -<p>"Well, if you like to call obstinacy strongmindedness, there is no need -to argue. No doubt we both mean the same thing----"</p> - -<p>"With a difference," finished Mrs. Marshall.</p> - -<p>Jennie Brawn was loud in her lamentations when she came to hear of the -Master's departure. She went at once to Ruth, and found that young lady -far from tearful, pacing her bedroom in a towering rage. Jennie paused -at the door; she saw that Ruth had a pencil-scribbled note in her hand.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter?" asked Miss Brawn, amazed at this exhibition of -temper. Ruth pounced upon her.</p> - -<p>"Matter enough!" she cried, flourishing the letter. "Here is Neil gone -to town in the most unexpected manner--without even an excuse to me! -Read this, Jennie."</p> - -<p>"He says he is called away on business," said that young lady, when she -had mastered the contents of the note. "Well, that is, no doubt, the -truth!"</p> - -<p>"The truth! Pshaw! You don't know men, my dear. They tell lies in the -most plausible manner. But Neil cannot deceive me! All I want to know -is who the woman is!"</p> - -<p>Miss Brawn's freckled face grew crimson. "You have no right to say such -a thing as that! It is not like a lady!"</p> - -<p>"I am a woman before I am a lady," cried Ruth. "And a jealous woman at -that. Don't I know how all the creatures swarm after him just because -he is handsome and famous! He has told me all sorts of things about the -notes and the presents they send him, and----"</p> - -<p>"It was not nice of him to do that," remarked Jennie, for once blaming -her idol.</p> - -<p>"Well,"--Ruth dropped into a chair fairly worn cut by her rage--"it was -not his fault. I worried him into telling me everything. He did not -want to--I must do him that justice."</p> - -<p>"How did you worry him into betraying others?"</p> - -<p>"You are a woman and ask that? Oh, I forgot--you are not in love--or -rather, no man is in love with you. Why, you stupid little creature if -a man loves a woman, he'll do anything she tells him. Besides, he did -not mention names; he only told me that he got heaps of presents and -letters. But I want to know who the woman is he has gone up to meet."</p> - -<p>"I daresay there is no woman."</p> - -<p>"My dear Jennie, you don't know men."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Webster is devoted to you."</p> - -<p>"So he says. Humph!"</p> - -<p>"Ruth! Why, he shews it in every way."</p> - -<p>"All put on!" cried Miss Cass, determined not to be pacified. "But I'll -get the truth out of my father. I hear from the servants that Neil was -with him in the library for three hours last night."</p> - -<p>"Then that is the explanation. Your father has refused his consent to -the marriage, and the Master has gone away."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense! Do you think he would give me up like that, and leave me so -cold a letter? No. There is something else--a woman, I am sure. But -I'll get the truth out of my father. I have as wild a temper as Aunt -Inez when I am roused. I can be nice enough, Jennie, as you know, but, -oh, how nasty I can be when I make up my mind!"</p> - -<p>"You have evidently made up your mind now," said Miss Brawn, who had -known all about Ruth's temper when they were at school together. And -at this juncture, judging from previous experience, she considered it -prudent to retire, before she herself could be brought under the harrow.</p> - -<p>Ruth, left alone, did not rage any more. She put on her prettiest -dress, bathed her eyes, which were reddened with tears, and went down -to try and cajole her father.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass was in the library; and one look at her face was enough -to tell him why she had come. He argued, however, from her studied -amiability, that she was in a particularly aggravating mood. But long -experience of his mother and sister had taught him how to deal with -this sinister sweetness. He was immediately on his guard; for, as he -well knew, if the truth was to be got out of him, his daughter was the -one to get it.</p> - -<p>"Dear papa," she said, sinking into a chair beside the desk and patting -his hand. "I am in great trouble."</p> - -<p>"I know,"--determined that he would carry the war into the enemy's camp. -"Mr. Webster was with me last night."</p> - -<p>Ruth started to her feet with a tragic expression on her face. "And -you have forbidden our marriage!" she cried, and her air was that of a -Siddons.</p> - -<p>"What else did you expect?" her father asked. "Neil is a good fellow, -but he is not the son-in-law I want. And, indeed, I should be sorry, -for his own sake, to see him marry you. He is too gentle and kind. What -you want, my young lady, is a master."</p> - -<p>"No man shall ever master me," his daughter said, calmly. "And has he -given me up without a word?"</p> - -<p>"No; he said a good many words. But I am adamant, so far as this -ridiculous marriage is concerned. He accepted the inevitable after some -fighting, and took his departure this morning before you were up. I -see," he added, glancing at the note in her hands, "that he has written -to you."</p> - -<p>"Yes." Ruth gave it to him. "But it explains nothing."</p> - -<p>"It explains all there is to explain," said Mr. Cass. "Let the matter -drop now. Neil has gone away on business; so we will say nothing about -his love for you. You'll soon get over it."</p> - -<p>"Indeed I shan't!" sobbed the girl, now on the tearful tack. "It is -cruel of you to send him away when I love him so. I don't believe he -gave me up because you refused. There is something else."</p> - -<p>"There is nothing else." Mr. Cass's tone was decisive.</p> - -<p>But Ruth's fine ear caught something of hesitation in his voice, and -she dropped her handkerchief from her eyes with a triumphant air. "I -knew there was something else. What is it--something about his parents?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass started and changed colour at this chance shot. "Good Heavens, -child! Who told you anything about his parents?" he said; and no sooner -had he said it than he repented his rashness. For thereby she had -gained an advantage which she would not be slow to seize.</p> - -<p>"Why," she said, very slowly, with her eyes fixed on her father's -perturbed face, "it was just this way. Neil told me all about his -parents having died in America, and how you had brought him up at -Bognor."</p> - -<p>"Did he tell you nothing else?" Mr. Cass was beginning to feel that she -was too much for him.</p> - -<p>This was an opportunity which the girl was too clever to lose. "Well, he -did not tell me everything," she said. "He couldn't, you know."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad he had that much sense," Mr. Cass said, with relief.</p> - -<p>"Ah, papa, now I have caught you!" cried Miss Cass, clapping her hands. -"I know nothing, then, except that you brought him up. But you admit -there is something else which has stopped the marriage?"</p> - -<p>He saw that he had been over-reached. "I can tell you nothing," he said.</p> - -<p>"Very well, papa," she said, turning to go, "I'll write to Neil and ask -him to tell me the truth."</p> - -<p>"He won't tell you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, he will. He loves me, and I can get any thing out of him."</p> - -<p>"Girl! Ruth,"--her father seized her arm--"if you can be sensible, do -not write to Webster. He has gone out of your life of his own free -will."</p> - -<p>"I will never--never believe that!" and she flushed angrily. "Do you -think I don't know when a man loves me or not? I will see him and learn -the truth."</p> - -<p>"I forbid it, and Ruth saw that her father was very angry. With the -cunning of a woman who is determined to get her way, she suddenly -yielded, feeling that she could best gain her ends under the mask of -peace.</p> - -<p>"Very well, papa," she said, with a few tears; "but it is very hard on -me. I love him, and you have sent him away--for no fault of his own, -I'm sure."</p> - -<p>"He is not in fault--he is unfortunate----"</p> - -<p>"In his parents?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Amongst other things," was the reply. "My dear child"--he took her -hand--"if you are wise, you will leave things as they are. I should -like you to marry Heron; but if you do not wish it. I will not press -the matter. As to Neil, put him out of your head, once and for all. He -can never be your husband! Now go." And he pushed her gently outside -the library door.</p> - -<p>"What on earth can it be?" thought the girl, as she took her way to the -winter garden. "Has Neil committed some crime, or has----"</p> - -<p>She had reached this point in her meditations when she suddenly came -upon Mr. Marshall. He was pale, and had a look of alarm on his face. -When he saw her he gave a startled cry. "Why, good gracious, uncle, -what is the matter?" asked Ruth.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's you!" replied Marshall. "I thought--never mind what I -thought. I'm upset."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Aunt Inez has been giving you a bad time," said the girl, with -some amusement. She knew very well what a tight hand that lady kept -over her elderly Don Juan; and when her uncle nodded, she continued: "I -am upset myself, uncle. He has gone away!"</p> - -<p>"Are you talking of Neil Webster?" he asked, with an obvious effort.</p> - -<p>"Yes; did you know how much I cared for him, uncle--and--what's the -matter?"</p> - -<p>For Mr. Marshall, with an ejaculation, had jumped up and was looking at -her with an expression of dismay. "Nothing is the matter," he gasped, -and it was quite evident that he was not speaking the truth. "But I -must confess I did not know that you cared for him. Ridiculous! Why, he -can never marry you."</p> - -<p>"So papa says," replied Ruth, somewhat disconsolately. "He has refused -his consent."</p> - -<p>"Quite right--quite right. Ruth, put the ocean between yourself -and that man; but never have anything to do with him. It is"--he -looked--round and approached his lips to her ear--"it is dangerous. -Don't say I told you!" And before she could recover from her -astonishment he had slipped away with an alacrity surprising in so -heavy a man.</p> - -<p>Ruth remained standing, utterly perplexed by the manner of her usually -careless and good-natured uncle. "I wonder if he knows why Neil has -gone away?" she thought. "I will find out the reason," she went on to -herself "I am as obstinate as they are. Since they won't tell me I will -write to Neil."</p> - -<p>This she proceeded to do, demanding to know the cause of his departure. -"If you love me as you say, you will not give me up at my father's -bidding. I am ready to brave his anger for your sake. Can you not be as -brave as I?"</p> - -<p>The reply came, as she had expected, by return, and it was with a -violently beating heart that she tore it open. "I must give you up," he -wrote. It is in vain to fight against the destiny that parts us. I love -you still; but it is my duty to forget you. Do the same, for only in -that way can you be happy.</p> - -<p>"Oh, he is mad!" cried Ruth, angrily. "And if he thinks he can put me -off in this way he will find his mistake. I will know!" She stamped her -foot. "I will--I will!"</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding Ruth's refusal of him, Geoffrey Heron had not gone -away; he was too deeply in love with her for that, and remained like a -moth fluttering round a candle. Sometimes he felt annoyed with himself; -but he was no longer his own master. Then, much to his surprise, the -girl sought him of her own free will. He was delighted, though he -wisely strove not to shew it. She suggested a walk, in order that they -might not be interrupted.</p> - -<p>After some preliminary skirmishing, she led the conversation up to the -departure of Neil Webster.</p> - -<p>"I am sorry," she said, with a sigh.</p> - -<p>"You need hardly tell me that," replied Geoffrey, not very amiably, for -he was annoyed by the speech and the sigh. "I know he is the lucky man."</p> - -<p>"If he is lucky, he does not value his luck."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean? I understood from Miss Brawn that you were engaged -to marry him."</p> - -<p>"Ah! that's just it. I was engaged, but now--he has gone away without a -word. I don't believe he cares one bit about me."</p> - -<p>"What a fool! Oh, Ruth, if you only knew!"</p> - -<p>"I do know," she said, kindly; "you want me to be your wife. Well, I -refused, because I could not really love you; but you know that I do -like you extremely."</p> - -<p>"Even that is something."</p> - -<p>"And if it were not for Neil--well, I might bring myself to marry you."</p> - -<p>"No," he said, firmly. "I also have my pride. Much as I want you to be -my wife, I will not consent to that unless you can tell me that you -love me."</p> - -<p>"Won't liking do?"</p> - -<p>"No,"--gruffly--"liking will certainly not do."</p> - -<p>"I might grow to love you in time."</p> - -<p>"I wish you could--but--what does all this mean?"</p> - -<p>She thought for a moment; then she said: "I hope you won't think me -bold for speaking openly. But the fact is--well, I was engaged to Neil, -and he--he has broken our engagement."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" exclaimed the young man. "And how can I remedy the situation?"</p> - -<p>"Go to him and ask why he went away."</p> - -<p>"I cannot. Do you expect me to bring my rival back to you?"</p> - -<p>"If you loved me and wished me to be happy, you would."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to see you happy with another fellow," and his manner was -eminently human. "I want you to myself."</p> - -<p>"Well, you will not get me by behaving in this way!" cried Ruth, now -thoroughly exasperated. "This is the very first time I have ever asked -you to do anything for me, and you refuse!"</p> - -<p>Geoffrey temporised. "Supposing Webster were to persist in his refusal -to come back to you, would there be a chance for me?"</p> - -<p>Miss Cass looked straight before her, with her nose in the air.</p> - -<p>"I really don't know," she said coldly. "I make no bargains."</p> - -<p>"Very well," said Geoffrey, most unexpectedly, "I'll do it."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">CHAPTER IX.</a></h4> -<h5>THE EMBASSY OF GEOFFREY HERON.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Within that week the house party at Hollyoaks broke up. Mr. and Mrs. -Marshall returned to their own house, which was only four miles away; -Jennie Brawn went back to Bedford-park and the family of nine; and -Geoffrey Heron took his way to his London Chambers. So Ruth was left -to the society of her father, and she made up her mind that she would -say no more about Neil. Indeed, she half intimated to Mr. Cass that she -might, after all, marry her other lover--an intimation which delighted -the worthy merchant beyond words.</p> - -<p>"You are a sensible girl after all, Ruth," he said. "Believe me, you -would do wisely. You see my love, you could not have been really in -love with Webster, since you have so soon forgotten him."</p> - -<p>She answered him meekly enough.</p> - -<p>"I daresay you are right, papa, Neil has behaved very badly to me, and -I think no more of him."</p> - -<p>"Poor fellow," sighed Mr. Cass!</p> - -<p>"Really, papa," exclaimed the girl, "you are difficult to please. At -your desire I have given him up: now you think I have treated him -badly."</p> - -<p>"My dear, I said nothing of the sort," protested the embarrassed Mr. -Cass. "All the same, I wish he had not set his heart on you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, he has not done that, or he would not have been so ready to give -me up."</p> - -<p>"My dear, you do not understand."</p> - -<p>Ruth went away thinking over this last speech. "No," she murmured to -herself, "I do not understand, but I shall soon. I ought to hear from -Geoffrey in a few days. After all, I am really beginning to think I -like him better than Neil. What Jennie said was quite right, although I -would not for the world acknowledge it to her. I am not the wife for a -man like him. I want to be considered, and I am sure Geoffrey would do -all in his power to please me and to make me happy. Neil? Well, I think -he might have been rather a trial."</p> - -<p>A week after Neil's departure, Mr. Cass received a letter from him -which caused the worthy merchant much perplexity. He shut himself up in -his library to think it over. Webster had gone away with the fullest -intention of proving his mother's innocence, yet this short letter -intimated that he had abandoned the idea. "I have seen my mother," he -wrote, "and I see it is best to take your advice and let sleeping dogs -lie. I am going abroad shortly, and it is not likely that I shall see -you for many months. Never again will I come to your house; and I only -hope that you will impress upon Ruth the necessity of forgetting me as -speedily as possible. I cannot trust myself to see her again, so I must -leave this task to you."</p> - -<p>"Poor lad!" sighed Mr. Cass, as he finished the letter. "It is bitter -for him that he should have to suffer for the sins of his parents. -But I wonder why he has stopped short in his endeavour to prove Mrs. -Jenner's innocence? What can she have said to him? I have a good mind -to see him--or her," he added as an after-thought; then changed his -mind. "No, it would only revive sad memories. The matter is settled by -this letter, and it is best to let sleeping dogs lie. I will think no -more of it."</p> - -<p>So he said, but so he did not do. His conscience frequently took -pleasure in reminding him of the whole story, and despite all his -philosophical resolves to "let sleeping dogs lie," he knew very well -that he ought to rouse them. But this he could not bring himself to do. -Too much was at stake, and a bolder man than Mr. Cass would have shrank -from the consequences. In this frame of mind he did his best to argue -that he was right, and--he failed in the attempt.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Geoffrey was in town. He had learnt from Ruth that Neil -occupied rooms in the Waverley Hotel in Cherry-square, a quiet, -unpretentious establishment.</p> - -<p>Three times Heron called at the hotel, only to be told that Mr. Webster -was out of town. The fourth time he was more lucky and found the young -man at home.</p> - -<p>Neil Webster looked extremely ill; dark circles under his eyes told -of sleepless nights, and his restless movements hinted at a nervous -system which had gone to pieces. Moreover, his lips were dry, his eyes -feverishly bright.</p> - -<p>The room was luxuriously furnished. The prevailing colour was a dark -red, and on the walls were hung portraits of his favourite composers. -Curiously enough, the furniture was upholstered in a soft shade -of grey, the effect of which in the warm-tinted room was, to say -the least, of it, somewhat odd. A revolving bookcase, filled with -books--mostly of poems--stood near a Louis Quinze escritoire; but the -glory of the room was a magnificent grand piano standing alone at one -end of the apartment.</p> - -<p>"I suppose you are surprised to see me, Webster?" said the young squire -abruptly.</p> - -<p>"Well, I must admit that I am. We could hardly be called the best of -friends at any time, I think."</p> - -<p>"Still, we have not been enemies, Webster. Because two men may happen -to be rivals they need not have a bad opinion of each other."</p> - -<p>"You are very good," Neil said, faintly.</p> - -<p>"Don't be sarcastic; there is no need, I assure you."</p> - -<p>The remark made Webster laugh.</p> - -<p>"Why do you laugh?" asked the other, sharply.</p> - -<p>"I was wondering whether I could make a friend of you, and the thought -of our relative positions with Miss Cass made me scout the possibility. -We can never be friends."</p> - -<p>"Why not? I like you very well. I don't see why you should be so bitter -to me."</p> - -<p>"I am not bitter. In fact, you would be my friend, I think, if it were -not for Miss Cass."</p> - -<p>"I am ready to be your friend in any case," said Heron, quickly. "And -don't think me a mean brute to hate a man because he is more lucky than -I."</p> - -<p>"Lucky!" sighed Neil, sitting up. "Heaven help you if you are not a -luckier man than I. Well, when we know one another better we may be -friends. I need one badly enough, Heaven knows. But, first of all, to -pave the way to our better acquaintance, why have you come here?"</p> - -<p>"I will answer you frankly. Miss Cass has informed me that you have -broken off your engagement to her. Now, you know that I am very much -in love with her, and that I wish her to be my wife. She loves you, I -think----"</p> - -<p>"No, pardon me," Webster said, lifting one thin hand. "She does not -really care for me. I have come to that conclusion after much thought. -She admires my talents, but you possess what wins a woman's eyes and -her heart in the long run--strength."</p> - -<p>"You are complimentary," Heron said, good-humouredly, "but I think most -women would admire you. All I want to know is whether your engagement -with Miss Cass is really at an end, because in that case I'll sail in -and try my luck."</p> - -<p>Webster leant back. It was hard to give up this girl, and although he -had really done so, yet there was the official announcement to be made. -But it had to be done, for, knowing what he knew, he felt that no truly -honest man in his place would hold her to her promise. So Neil braced -himself up to make the sacrifice, and spoke out with decision:</p> - -<p>"My engagement to Miss Cass is at an end," he said. "She will never -be my wife, nor is it probable that I shall ever see her again. She -is free to marry you, indeed, I hope she will, and"--here his voice -quivered--"I wish you joy."</p> - -<p>"Well," Heron said, thoughtfully, "I can't deny that I am glad to hear -this, for Ruth Cass is all the world and more to me. At the same time -time I am sorry, for I can see that you feel this very deeply. Is it of -your own free will that you do this?" and he eyed Webster curiously.</p> - -<p>"In one way it is, in another it is not. A few weeks ago I had a right -to marry her, now I have none."</p> - -<p>"Can I help you?" Heron asked.</p> - -<p>"No, no. Impossible!"</p> - -<p>The man was so shaken and ill that Geoffrey asked no more questions. -He went over and shook hands. "As you have withdrawn I will try my -luck. But, I also may fail; and if I do I hope I shall bear the -disappointment as well as you do. If you will allow me I will come and -see you again."</p> - -<p>"I shall be glad to see you. But are you not going back to Hollyoaks?</p> - -<p>"No," replied Geoffrey. "I shall be in town for a week or so, and if I -can see you again so much the better."</p> - -<p>"Come by all means, then. I am usually at home during the evening. I'm -afraid I can't ask you to dine just now. I really do not feel well -enough."</p> - -<p>"That's all right," Heron said, brightly. "I know you feel bad, but you -have behaved like a Briton." Than which Geoffrey thought there could -not be higher praise. "And if I can help you in any way I will. I have -an idea, you know, that we shall be friends, after all."</p> - -<p>"We have made a good start, anyhow," said Neil. "Good-bye."</p> - -<p>When Geoffrey had gone, the unhappy man buried his face in the sofa -cushions and wept bitterly. He had crushed down his feelings throughout -the interview; but now Nature would have her way.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Heavens!" he wailed. "Shall I ever know peace again?"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h4> -<h5>THE GREAT SECRET.</h5> -<br> - -<p>It was small wonder that Neil had decided to give Ruth up. For the -first time he saw what he was--a miserable creature, who, in marrying, -would be committing a deadly sin. It was not to be thought of; and he -thanked Heaven that he had self-command sufficient to put temptation -away from him. His renunciation of her was, to him, the least of his -sorrows.</p> - -<p>He found some comfort in the visits of Geoffrey Heron, who came almost -every day and sat long with the unfortunate man, although he could -not in the least understand his sufferings. But he strove to talk of -general subjects which would draw his mind away from the one on which -he was brooding. And in the main he succeeded, though when he had gone, -Neil always relapsed into the torture of thought whence he had been -drawn for the moment.</p> - -<p>During these visits Neil observed his visitor closely, and very soon -came to the conclusion that he was a right good fellow with vastly -more heart than the general mass of humanity. Once or twice he found -himself on the point of confiding in him and asking his advice: but a -feeling of dread withheld him. He liked Heron he enjoyed his company; -and he was afraid of losing him. So he tried to put himself aside, and -insisted that he was not as ill as he looked. But the crisis came one -evening when Geoffrey was with him. Neil had been very ill all day; and -when the young squire entered shortly after eight o'clock, he found him -lying on the sofa almost in a fainting condition. Geoffrey was alarmed.</p> - -<p>"I tell you what, old chap, you should see a doctor," he said.</p> - -<p>Neil shook his head. "Doctors can do no good; all their drugs cannot -cure me. What is it Macbeth says, 'Thou canst not minister to a mind -diseased.'"</p> - -<p>"But your mind is not diseased."</p> - -<p>"How do you know that?" He clenched his hands. "I have not told you my -secret."</p> - -<p>"No and I don't want to know it."</p> - -<p>"What! You don't want to know why I gave Miss Cass up?"</p> - -<p>"No; for then I should have to tell her--she would get it out of me in -some way. You know what women are."</p> - -<p>"I know what one woman is, at least; and she is a mother," murmured -Neil. "No, you must not tell Ruth; it could do no good, and might do -much harm."</p> - -<p>"Then speak of something else. You are exciting yourself unnecessarily."</p> - -<p>Even as he spoke, the nerve storm came on with unusual violence; the -wretched man seemed possessed by seven demons which tore him in pieces; -he rose from his seat and strode furiously about the room, trying to -prevent himself from crying out. Finally, he dropped exhausted into a -chair and sobbed violently. Geoffrey Heron, quite astonished at this -outburst, hastily got a glass of water, but in seizing it, Webster -broke it with the strength of his grasp. "I must tell you--I must!" -he panted. "I must tell someone, or die. My mother is in prison--on -a charge of murder; she was accused of killing--killing, I say--my -father!" And he fell back weeping, trembling, completely crushed.</p> - -<p>"Good Heavens cried Heron, stepping back. His pity for the poor young -fellow was sincere; and now he felt he could understand in some degree -what a torture his life had been to him. He could understand, moreover, -why Neil had surrendered all claim to the hand of Ruth.</p> - -<p>"You--you--won't tell her?"</p> - -<p>"No; on my honour, I won't," said Geoffrey. "I wish you had not told -me; but now that I do know, your secret is, at any rate, safe with me."</p> - -<p>"The valerian," said Neil, nodding towards the sideboard, and while -Heron got it, he loosened his collar and drenched himself with cold -water. Then he mixed a stiff dose of the drug, and drank it it with a -sigh of relief. Heron looked at him anxiously.</p> - -<p>"I had better go now, hadn't I?" he said. "You must go to bed. -To-morrow morning----"</p> - -<p>"No--no. I shall be all right soon; the valerian will soothe me. I have -told you so much that I must tell you all. I should have said nothing -about it but for the nervous fit which came over me just now. Sit down."</p> - -<p>Accordingly, Geoffrey waited, lighting a cigar the while. Now that the -information had been imparted to him almost against Webster's will, -he was anxious to hear the whole story; he determined that Ruth, at -least, should never know it. Try as she might, she would never get it -out of him. He made up his mind, too, that he would be a friend to the -unfortunate creature who was so cruelly afflicted. Not only that, but -he would give what advice and aid lay in his power to ameliorate the -situation. But he doubted whether the position could be amended.</p> - -<p>Neil thanked him by a look, and returned to his sofa in a quieter -frame of mind; the fury of the attack had left him weak and faint, -but he insisted on speaking, and as he did so, his strength gradually -came back. To Geoffrey this sudden recuperation seemed little short -of miraculous, for he was quite unaware of the power of the nerves to -recover themselves.</p> - -<p>"I had better begin by asking you a few questions," he began.</p> - -<p>"But are you sure you are strong enough?"</p> - -<p>"I shall be all right directly. The truth has to be told now; and, -moreover, I want your advice."</p> - -<p>"I'll do anything in my power," Heron said.</p> - -<p>"You are a good fellow. How I have misunderstood you! Well, I will -repay you by giving up Ruth to you; I shall never marry her, nor, -indeed, anyone. Heaven help me!"</p> - -<p>"Why not?" Geoffrey, asked.</p> - -<p>"You have seen what I am. What sort of husband or father should I make? -But this is beside the point. Hear what I have to tell, and advise me -what to do. In the first place, do you know the Turnpike House?"</p> - -<p>"Great Heavens! Are you talking about that murder?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I daresay you remember it."</p> - -<p>"Remember it! I should think so. Why, nothing was talked about at -Westham for months but that crime. A man was found in the house stabbed -to the heart; his wife was accused of the murder; she was taken, with -her child, while trying to escape."</p> - -<p>"Yes," was the calm reply. "My father was the murdered man, my mother -was the woman accused of the crime, and I the child."</p> - -<p>"Then your name is Jenner?"</p> - -<p>"Yes a name to be proud of, is it not? But I have not the courage to -take it. Ugh!" He shuddered. "Think, if all that were known! How could -I appear in public? People would come, not to hear me play, but to see -a man who had been connected with a mysterious crime--whose mother was -suffering punishment for that crime! I should kill myself if it were -known."</p> - -<p>"There will be no need to kill yourself. You are absolutely safe with -me."</p> - -<p>"But if Ruth should ask you?"</p> - -<p>"Ruth shall never hear it from me. When I said just now that she might -cajole we, I was thinking of trivial things; but this terrible story -shall remain a secret for ever. You can speak to me as you would to a -confessor. There are some things, Webster, which a man does not do; and -this is one of them. I am glad you have told me."</p> - -<p>"I am glad you know," sighed Neil. "It will ease my mind to tell you -all. Now listen," and he recounted all the circumstances--his dream, -and the causes which had led up to his identification as the son of the -accused woman. Geoffrey was more startled than ever, especially when -Mr. Cass's name was mentioned.</p> - -<p>"And does he know all this?" he asked. Then, in reply to Neil's nod, he -added: "No wonder he would not let you marry his daughter!"</p> - -<p>"No wonder," said the young man, bitterly. "Touch pitch and defile -yourself; but it was not he who stopped the marriage--it was myself. I -would rather die than marry. See what I am--a mass of nerves; think of -the terrible history of my parents. Then imagine me asking any woman to -share my misery! Well, now that you know all, what do you say?"</p> - -<p>Heron looked rather helplessly at him. "What can I say?" he remarked, -hesitatingly. "It seems that your mother murdered your father under -great provocation, and is now in prison. Well, I think it would be best -for you to put the matter out of your head, and go abroad. It is not -the slightest use you seeing her."</p> - -<p>"I have already done so," Neil said, quietly.</p> - -<p>Geoffrey started from his seat. "You visited her in prison?" he asked</p> - -<p>"Yes; I learnt where she was from Mr. Cass, and I went to see her at -once. For I loved my mother, as much as I hated my father. Poor mother! -Her hair is white now, and her fact lined; but she was mad with joy at -first on seeing me, and then very angry."</p> - -<p>"Why was she angry?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, that is the strangest part of the whole affair! I am now going to -tell you something that no one else knows--not even Mr. Cass."</p> - -<p>"Fire ahead!"</p> - -<p>"When I went to the prison," Neil continued, "I did not believe that -my mother was guilty. Cass had told me she was but I did not agree -with him. Only from her own lips would I learn the truth, and to the -prison I went in order to learn it. I saw the governor, and asked to -see Mrs. Jenner, but did not give my real name; I merely said that I -was a distant relative of hers, and wanted an interview. Well, I saw -her--alone."</p> - -<p>"Were you allowed to do that? I thought----"</p> - -<p>"That a woman warder would be present? Well, one was, but she stayed -outside the door, where she could hear little, if anything. We were -practically alone."</p> - -<p>"Did she recognise you?"</p> - -<p>"At once. Ah Heron, you don't know what a mother's love is. Yes; she -knew me, for I am the very image of what she was in youth. I have her -fair hair and blue eyes; but not her good looks. She knew me, but she -would only half admit it."</p> - -<p>"Why was that?"</p> - -<p>"Well, for one reason, because the warder was outside, and she did not -wish our relationship known. Another was that she feared to give way -altogether if she once said that I was her son. So all the time she -addressed me as Mr. Webster; and she talked of her son to me."</p> - -<p>"She must be a woman of wonderful self-command," said Geoffrey, now -thoroughly interested. "A woman in a thousand, as you will admit before -I have done. Ah, what a mother! Was there ever such a noble creature? -Well, addressing me always as I have said, she said that her son had -been taken away to be brought up by Mr. Cass in ignorance of his -parentage; and that this had been done at her own special request. She -did not want her son ever to know of her existence, or of her history, -nor did she wish ever to see him. She was dead to him, and desired that -he should regard her as dead also."</p> - -<p>"A painful position for you."</p> - -<p>"Heaven knows how painful!" He was sitting up now, and speaking -rapidly. "I fell into her humour, for her eyes warned me to do that. -Besides, she stood aloof, and refused to respond to my feelings. I -accepted the situation, and told her that her son was a violinist and -famous. I am afraid I talked a great deal too much about myself, and -in a boastful vein too. But you will understand that, Heron. I wanted -to give her all the joy I could. I wanted to prove to her that her -sacrifice had not been in vain."</p> - -<p>"Sacrifice? What on earth do you mean by that?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! Now comes the most painful part of the story. I asked her if she -were truly guilty, but she refused to answer. And I knew in my heart -that she was innocent. I saw a look in her eyes which asked how I--her -own son--could dare to doubt her innocence. But not a word did she say."</p> - -<p>"And you--what did you say?"</p> - -<p>"I told her--still in the character of a relative--that I did not -believe she killed Jenner--for by that name I spoke of him--and I -declared that I intended to devote my life to proving her innocence, -and that I was about to re-open the case."</p> - -<p>"What happened then?" asked Geoffrey, seeing, from the growing -agitation of the young man, that he was coming to the crisis of his -painful tale.</p> - -<p>"She became angry, and was violently moved. After glancing at the -door, she abandoned the attitude she had taken up, of treating me as a -stranger, and forbade me to re-open the case; she commanded me to leave -things as they were. I refused I swore that I would set her free. In a -low voice she implored me to let the matter rest; again I refused, and -in spite of all that she could say, I held to my purpose. By this time, -as you will understand, we had abandoned our masks. At last she clapped -her hands, and said that there was no help for it."</p> - -<p>"No help for what?"</p> - -<p>"I am about to tell you. She caught me by the hand, and bent forward to -speak in a whisper; and these are her very words: 'Do nothing; I suffer -for your sake.'"</p> - -<p>"Great Heavens! Do you mean to say that she hinted that it was you who -killed him?"</p> - -<p>"She did more than hint. She said that I did. She told me that on that -night she had gone away to get some money for my father; that while she -was in another part of the house she heard a cry, and came back to the -room to find me there standing beside the dead body of my father--the -knife still in my hand. She was certain that I had done it, for earlier -in the evening I had rushed at him with the same knife. Seeing that -my hatred for him was in part her work, she determined to save me, -and rushed away into the night and the mist with me in her arms. She -was taken, and accused of the crime; for my sake, she held her tongue -and suffered. No one knows this--not even Mr. Cass, to whom she gave -me that I might be brought up by a good man. All this she told me in -a low, hurried voice. Then she bade me leave matters as they were, -or her curse would be upon me! I promised to do nothing-she made me -promise--then I left her. Since then--oh, what a life mine has been!" -and he flung himself on the sofa to bury his face in the cushions.</p> - -<p>Heron pitied him sincerely. "Are you sure that this is true?" he asked. -"For it seems to me that if you had really been guilty of killing your -father, you would have remembered something about it."</p> - -<p>"No, I do not think so; I am subject to trances; and on that night, -agitated as I was by the sight of my father, I fell into one. I must -have done the thing as in a dream; then passed at once into the fever -which robbed me of my memory until it was revived by the dream. I can -remember my childhood now, but I certainly remember nothing about -the murder. My last memory is that of rushing at my father with the -knife with which I afterwards killed him. It must be true; yes, I am a -criminal!</p> - -<p>"Nonsense! A boy of ten, and mad for the time being! You are not a -criminal; no one could say so. If your mother had been wise, she would -have told the truth so as to save herself."</p> - -<p>"She preferred to save me; and if she had explained all this, who would -have believed her? No one. She would simply have been accused of trying -to prove me guilty in order to hide her own sin. But now that you know -all, I want to have your advice. How am I to act?"</p> - -<p>"Leave things as they are," Geoffrey said, promptly.</p> - -<p>"But my mother is innocent."</p> - -<p>"I know--if what she says is true."</p> - -<p>"I believe it!" Neil cried. "I really believe it."</p> - -<p>"Ah but will anyone else? To me, I confess, it seems a trifle -far-fetched. Even if you came forward and accused yourself, the whole -story rests on her evidence, and you will not be believed. No, Webster; -leave the matter as it stands, and stick to the name you are known by. -Your mother wishes it; and since she has done so much for you, it is -only right you should obey her."</p> - -<p>"I don't know what to do." Neil clasped his hands. "Shall I remain -silent?"</p> - -<p>"Take my advice, and remain silent," Heron replied, and he meant what -he said. "And remember," he added, "that I am always your friend -friend."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h4> -<h5>RUTH'S DIPLOMACY.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Whatever might have been Neil Webster's intentions as to saving his -mother by proving himself guilty, they were frustrated by a severe -illness. His body could no longer bear the strain of constant worry and -mental torture, and he was seized with an attack of brain fever. Then -it was that Heron proved himself indeed a friend; he attended to the -sick man and procured for him the very best advice. No brother could -have done more for the poor fellow than did Geoffrey. Putting entirely -aside his desire to be near Ruth and to prosecute his courtship, he -devoted himself to restoring Neil to health.</p> - -<p>Furthermore, at his friend's special request in the early stages of -his illness, Geoffrey took all measures to prevent Mr. Cass hearing -of the precarious state in which he lay. For Neil considered that the -merchant had done quite enough for him and did not wish to give him any -more trouble; so Geoffrey informed Mr. Cass that the young violinist -had gone abroad for a rest by the advice of his doctor. Then he had him -removed to Bognor and placed under the charge of Mrs. Jent, impressing -upon her the necessity for secrecy. Thus it came about that for nearly -two months he lay ill in bed at Bognor without any suspicion being -aroused in Mr. Cass's mind.</p> - -<p>To Ruth young Heron wrote and explained that Neil had given her up, but -that he refused to say why he had done so. He added that he himself was -going to Paris for a month or so, but that if she wanted him back he -would return at the end of that time. Having thus sacrificed himself -on the shrine of friendship, he went down to watch Neil through his -dangerous illness. For he was quite determined that he should not die -if human means could save him. So, with Mrs. Jent, he nursed his friend -with the greatest tenderness.</p> - -<p>Another friendly act he performed. He visited Mrs. Jenner and learned -from her all the particulars of the case. At first she sternly refused -to tell him anything, but when he informed her that her son was ill -and that his only chance of recovery--this was a little embroidery of -his own--lay in the hope of her innocence being established, she gave -way. He had already succeeded in impressing upon her the fact that Neil -could not have killed his father, notwithstanding all appearances to -the contrary.</p> - -<p>"From what you say, Mrs. Jenner," he remarked, "your husband was a -strong man. Neil--I must still call him Neil--was a puny child. It is -impossible that he could have struck such a blow. At best his strength -could not have been equal to it, and Jenner could have brushed him -aside as easily as he could a fly."</p> - -<p>"That is true," said the woman, thoughtfully. "I found him with a knife -in his hand standing beside the body."</p> - -<p>"He might have entered the room and picked up the knife."</p> - -<p>"But if this is go-and I begin to see things from your point of -view--who killed my husband? I can swear that I did not, and if my -child is innocent, who is guilty?"</p> - -<p>"That is just what we must find out, both to release you from an unjust -imprisonment and to set his mind at rest. Now tell me the whole story -and especially the events of that night. Then I may be in a position to -account for the crime."</p> - -<p>Cheered somewhat by the view he took, Mrs. Jenner told him all she knew -with full details. Two points struck Mr. Heron--one that the window had -been open and that Mrs. Jenner had left her husband standing near it; -the other that he had had in his possession a red pocket-book which had -afterwards disappeared. Beyond this he gathered that her account of the -boasts her husband had made on that night that he had had somebody in -his power, somebody from whom he intended to extort money.</p> - -<p>"And I quite believe that is true," finished the unhappy woman, -bitterly. "He had the instincts of a blackmailer."</p> - -<p>"Well, said Geoffrey, preparing to take his departure. I think the -motive for the crime will be found in that pocket-book. Whoever took -it murdered your husband. The window was open, the book, as you say, -on the table, and near the window your husband was standing. Also," -he added with emphasis, "you say the knife was lying beside the -pocket-book. Now, if your son had used it he would have had to pass -his father to get it and so would have put him on his guard, even if -he had not been prevented from taking it. No, Mrs. Jenner, your son -is innocent, as innocent as yourself. The assassin seized that knife -through the open window and struck the blow in order to get possession -of that pocket-book, which contained--of that I am sure--some document -which would have been used as a lever to extort money. That is my -theory, and I will make it my business to prove that it is the right -one. Meanwhile, I must nurse Neil."</p> - -<p>"You are a good man," said Mrs. Jenner shewing emotion for the first -time, "and what you say seems feasible enough. Go, and do the best you -can. Heaven will reward you. But my son, my darling boy--he may die!"</p> - -<p>"Not if I can help it. I'll pull him round somehow. Keep up your -spirits. You have had a long night, but I believe the dawn is at hand."</p> - -<p>"Heaven bless you!" she said. Then Geoffrey took his leave, to return -to the bedside of Neil Webster.</p> - -<p>While all this was taking place Ruth had not been idle. She had been -annoyed by Heron's letter, and much alarmed at his determination to -stay away. She was beginning to find out that her feeling for him was -stronger than anything the young violinist had inspired in her; but a -streak of obstinacy, inherited from her Spanish grandmother, kept her, -in a manner, true to the man for whom she cared least. Besides this she -was possessed of more than her share of feminine curiosity, and never -faltered in her determination to learn the real cause of Webster's -mysterious departure. She was well aware that her love for him was -not genuine, that it had been founded--as Jennie had very truly told -her--on admiration for the artist, not on love for the man and she was -equally certain that she would never marry him. But all the same she -was resolved to learn his secret, and for many a weary week she plotted -for the achievement of her ends. As far as she knew, both Neil and -Geoffrey were abroad, so she had a fair field.</p> - -<p>After much thought she concluded that her best plan was to make the -attempt through Mrs. Jent, who had been her nurse, and who had always -retained an affection, almost motherly, for her. And the old woman was -a trustful soul, easy enough to manage by the exercise of a little -diplomacy. Ruth's plan was to act as she had done with her father--to -assume that she knew more than she would admit. In this way, taking -into account the simplicity of Mrs. Jent, it was likely that the old -woman would let something slip which would put her on the track. And -Ruth considered that if she had succeeded with a man like her father -she would certainly have no difficulty with a person of Mrs. Jent's -calibre. So she made up her mind as to her best course of action.</p> - -<p>To see Mrs. Jent without arousing suspicion it was necessary that she -should go down to Bognor without her father's knowledge. He would think -it odd that she should, at this juncture, wish to see one who was so -closely connected with her former lover. To avert suspicion, the girl -wrote to an old schoolfellow at Brighton asking her for an invitation. -"I am tired of a dull country life," wrote Miss Cass, "and I should be -so glad of a little amusement. Do ask me down for a week or so."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Prosser fell into the trap. It seemed natural enough to her that -Ruth should want a little gaiety, and she was glad to have a pretty -girl in her house. The presence of beauty would attract a good many men -and, being not averse to an occasional flirtation herself. Mrs. Prosser -judged that she would share in the pleasure to be derived from the -visit. So the desired invitation was promptly despatched, and Mr. Cass, -quite unsuspicious, permitted his daughter's acceptance of it.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps it will put this nonsense about Webster out of your head," he -said as he bade her good-bye. To which remark he received no answer.</p> - -<p>For quite a week Ruth enjoyed herself thoroughly. Mrs. Prosser's house -was a bright one. She entertained a great deal, more especially now -that she had such a charming friend to amuse and to amuse her. That -young lady made amends for Neil's desertion of her, and for Geoffrey's -absence, by flirting to her heart's content, and consigning many youths -to various stages of despair at what they were pleased to call her -fickleness. But she never lost sight of her main object, which was to -drop down on Mrs. Jent without giving that old lady warning of her -coming. She would take her entirely by surprise.</p> - -<p>Accordingly, on the plea that she was going to see her old nurse, Ruth -took the train to _Bognor_, and Mrs. Jent welcomed her visitor with -open arms. Nor indeed--not having been warned--did she conceal the fact -that Mr. Webster was ill in the house and that Geoffrey was nursing him.</p> - -<p>"My dear, how pleased I am to see you!" she cried, settling her -spectacles on her nose. "And quite the young lady, too! How good of -you, my lovey, not to forget your old nurse."</p> - -<p>"As if I ever could," Ruth said, graciously. "And tell me what you are -doing with yourself?"</p> - -<p>"Just living, my dear, just living. What with a boarder or two and the -money your dear papa allows me I rub along."</p> - -<p>"Have you any boarders now?" asked the girl, more for the sake of saying -something than because she felt any interest in the subject.</p> - -<p>"Well, not what you would call boarders, perhaps," said the old lady, -rubbing one withered hand over the other. "At least, one of them isn't, -he is my dear boy Neil."</p> - -<p>"Neil!" with unbounded astonishment, "Neil Webster! Why, he is abroad."</p> - -<p>"No such thing. He is here, my lovey, and has been for two months. -Abroad? Why, the poor darling has been at death's door! Aye, and he -would have entered it, too, if Mr. Heron had not----"</p> - -<p>"Heron? Geoffrey Heron?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear, that is him, Heaven bless him. Do you----"</p> - -<p>"Geoffrey Heron here?" interrupted the girl rather to herself than to -the old woman. "Why, he wrote to tell me that he was on the Continent. -What does all this mean, I wonder?"</p> - -<p>"It's not hard to tell the meaning," said Mrs. Jent. "My boy Neil fell -ill, had brain fever, poor lad, and Mr. Heron brought him here from -London that I might nurse him, and he stayed with me. He is almost as -fond of my dear boy as I am."</p> - -<p>"Is he?" said Ruth, blankly. Considering that the two men were, or had -been, rivals for her hand, she could not quite take all this in.</p> - -<p>"Of course he is," said the old woman, with great energy. "A better -gentleman I never wish to see."</p> - -<p>"And is Mr. Webster here?"</p> - -<p>"In the next room, in the most beautiful sleep. I daresay you would -like to see him, my dear, for he has often talked of you. But I daren't -wake him, it would be dangerous. Mr. Heron has gone to Worthing. Will -you wait till he comes back?"</p> - -<p>"I might," replied Ruth, thinking that she would like to prove to Heron -that she was no fool. "Has he also spoken of me?"</p> - -<p>"Often and often, my dear. Why, he loves you; he has told me so a dozen -times."</p> - -<p>The girl stuck her pretty chin in the air and looked supercilious. -"Well, he is nothing to me," she said, crossly. "I don't like deceitful -people. Oh, now, don't defend him," she added, seeing that Mrs. Jent -was about to deliver herself of an indignant speech. "I know more than -you do. As to Mr. Webster, well, he was good enough to say that he -cared for me too."</p> - -<p>"I know. He has often spoken of you to me; but he has got over his -fancy."</p> - -<p>"Oh, indeed!" cried Ruth, more angry than ever. "He calls his love for -me a fancy, does he? Just like a man." Then she suddenly recollected -her errand and resolved to make the best use of her time before -Geoffrey could come back and interfere. "Poor Mr. Webster! No doubt he -is grieving for his parents."</p> - -<p>The old lady started. "What do you know of them?" she asked, sternly.</p> - -<p>"All that he could tell me," was the reply. "He was engaged to me, and -he told me all about himself and his people."</p> - -<p>"How foolish of him," Mrs. Jent said under her breath. "But I hope -you don't think any the less of him, my dear. After all, he is not -responsible for the wickedness of his father and mother."</p> - -<p>Ruth nearly jumped out of her seat. So Neil's father and mother had -been what this old woman called "wicked people." And, moreover, he was -suffering for what they had done in not being allowed to marry her; -that was the way she put it. But she said nothing, and Mrs. Jent went -on talking in the firm belief that her listener knew all the facts of -the case.</p> - -<p>"Of course, it was a long time before he knew anything about his -parents neither Mr. Cass nor I would tell him, you know. But last -Christmas, when he was staying with you, my dear, he found it all out."</p> - -<p>"It was at Christmas that he told me about them," put in Ruth.</p> - -<p>But she did not add that it was of the American parents he had spoken. -Indeed, she could not make out whether Mrs. Jent was alluding to them -or to some other persons of whom she knew nothing. She felt confused.</p> - -<p>"Ah, well," went on the old lady, with a sigh, "I suppose the discovery -was too much for him and he had to tell someone. And why not you? -But, my dear," she laid a withered hand on the girl's arm, "if he had -loved you he would never have told you about that nasty Turnpike House -murder. Did he tell you his name was Jenner, my dear?"</p> - -<p>"No," said the girl, faintly. She knew the truth now. "Only that his -parents--oh, I can't speak of it!"</p> - -<p>"It is terrible." The old lady shook her head. "To think of his mother -having murdered her husband and being in gaol."</p> - -<p>"He never told me that!" shrieked Ruth, for she could play her part no -longer. "Oh, great Heavens, what a horrible thing! No wonder my father -would not let the marriage take place."</p> - -<p>"The marriage!" stammered Mrs. Jent, rising with an expression of alarm -on her face.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I was engaged to him and suddenly he gave me up. My father said -he would never allow me to marry him. I could not make out the reason. -Now I know it, and, oh, how horrible it is!"</p> - -<p>"Then you did not know the truth?"</p> - -<p>"No, no. Neil told me about his American parents----"</p> - -<p>"That was the story we made up to keep him quiet," put in the old -woman. "Yes, Mr. Cass and I thought it best he should not know. He -found out the truth for himself, and--now--I have told it to you."</p> - -<p>"I am glad you have," said Ruth, taking her hand. "Dear nurse, I have -behaved so badly. I wanted to find out why Neil had given me up, and as -father would not tell me I came to you. But I have been punished for my -curiosity. Still, I'm glad--I'm glad. I must give him up now."</p> - -<p>"Indeed, miss," said Mrs. Jent, bristling with indignation. "I think -you ought to stand by the poor boy more than ever. Oh, miss, how could -you play me such a trick? I do hope you'll keep all this to yourself."</p> - -<p>"Of course I will. All the effect it will have upon me is that I shall -think no more of Neil."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" Mrs. Jent shook her head. "I thought I better of you."</p> - -<p>"Good gracious! How can you expect me to marry a man whose mother is in -gaol?"</p> - -<p>"That is not his fault. But take your own way, miss. I think you have -behaved badly in tricking me into speaking secrets. I shall tell your -father at once."</p> - -<p>"I shall tell him myself; you shan't be blamed, nurse. I am a wicked -girl to have done what I have done. There, don't cry, I'm not worth -it. I'll go away and not bother you." And before Mrs. Jent could say -another word Ruth was out of the house and walking swiftly along the -parade.</p> - -<p>Then the unexpected happened, for the first person she met was Geoffrey -Heron!</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE TOY HORSE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Geoffrey Heron would as soon have expected to see the sea-serpent off -shore as to meet Ruth Cass walking along the _Bognor_ Parade. However, -there she was, and he had to meet her, to explain himself as best he -could, and to put himself right in her eyes.</p> - -<p>"Miss Cass!" he stammered, taking off his hat and exhibiting a very red -face and confusion of manner usually absent from his demeanour. "I am -astonished to meet you here."</p> - -<p>"I daresay," replied the girl, her nose in the air. "There can be -no doubt about that after all the stones you told me. But I am not -astonished. I have been to see Mrs. Jent."</p> - -<p>"What! Have you seen Webster?" I said Mrs. Jent. "No, Mr. Webster does -not know that I am here. He was asleep, and Mrs. Jent refused to -disturb him even for me. Now what have you to say for yourself?"</p> - -<p>"It is a long story," he said uneasily.</p> - -<p>"In that case we had better sit down."</p> - -<p>"But I must go back to the cottage."</p> - -<p>"In that case I'll go with you. We don't part, Mr. Heron until I have -an explanation of all this. Part of it I understand already."</p> - -<p>"What do you understand?" he asked, startled.</p> - -<p>"For one thing I know now why Neil left me."</p> - -<p>"Impossible!"</p> - -<p>"Nothing is impossible to a woman who has set her heart on finding out -what she wants to know. Neil refused to tell me, papa refused, you -refused in the meanest manner. Well, I have found out--from Mrs. Jent."</p> - -<p>"She never told you!" cried Heron, agitated.</p> - -<p>"Not of her own free will. I got it out of her. But I know now what is -the matter. Ah, I see you don't believe me; you are still incredulous. -Just listen, then. Neil's real name is Jenner; his mother killed his -father, and is now in gaol. Am I right?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly." He was relieved to find that she did not know the worst. -"I congratulate you on your diplomacy."</p> - -<p>"I thought you were going to use a nastier word. I am sure you were -tempted to."</p> - -<p>"No, believe me----"</p> - -<p>"How can I believe you when you behave as you have done? Why are you -here instead of in Paris?"</p> - -<p>"Because when I saw Webster I found he was very ill. Someone had to look -after him, and I seemed to be the right person just then. You would not -have had me leave the poor fellow to die?"</p> - -<p>"No." Ruth held out her hand, which he seized eagerly. "On the whole I -think you are a very good man, Mr. Heron. But why did you tell me that -you were in Paris, and that Neil also was abroad?"</p> - -<p>"I did so at his request. He considered that he had given your father -enough trouble, and knowing that in all probability he would have a -long illness, he asked me to conceal his whereabouts, so that Mr. Cass -should not come down."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I understand. But about yourself, why did you hide?"</p> - -<p>"In the first place I wanted to look after him. In the second, I did -not wish to see you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, thank you!" cried Ruth, highly indignant.</p> - -<p>"Don t misunderstand me, he said, anxious Neil told me his story--the -story you have got out of Mrs. Jent--and I did not feel justified in -allowing anything so terrible to reach your ears. I knew that I was as -wax in your hands, and that you would probably force me to tell; so I -judged discretion to be the better part of valour, and kept away."</p> - -<p>"I see. But I don't think your discretion will serve you in the long -run. Here is a seat, and there are few people about. Now, Mr. Heron, -sit down and tell me everything from the beginning."</p> - -<p>"Oh, but----"</p> - -<p>"I won't have any 'buts' about it," said Ruth, peremptorily. "I know the -worst, but I know it only in fragments. I want to know the whole."</p> - -<p>"Why?" asked Heron, taking his seat beside her.</p> - -<p>"Can't you guess? Oh, you are stupid. Why, to help poor Neil, of -course."</p> - -<p>"Ah! You are still in love with him!" said Heron, with a jealous pang.</p> - -<p>"No, I am not. I found out long since that I loved someone else better. -Oh, I am not going to tell you his name. I have my secrets as well as -you. But I still like and admire Neil in spite of his misfortunes, and -I want to help him. You are doing that already, and I admire you for -it. Well, we will work together."</p> - -<p>"I should like nothing better. But," Geoffrey hesitated, "can I trust -you? The secret isn't mine, you know."</p> - -<p>"No, it is mine," said Miss Cass, very coolly. "I share it with you and -Mrs. Jent. Whether I know all or not I am not prepared to say, but you -are going to tell me all. Now then!"</p> - -<p>He hesitated. "Very good," he said at length. "I will tell you all I -know, and we will work together to get this poor woman restored to -freedom."</p> - -<p>"What? Is she innocent?"</p> - -<p>"I am certain of that. Whosoever murdered Jenner, it was not his wife."</p> - -<p>"But she was found guilty."</p> - -<p>"She is not the first innocent person who has been found guilty. Wait -till you have heard the whole story, then you shall judge."</p> - -<p>"I certainly should not think of judging beforehand," she said, -disdainfully. "You must not think me silly. Now go on from the very -beginning."</p> - -<p>Seated on the iron bench with his gaze fixed seaward, Heron employed -the best part of an hour in telling the story. Ruth, for the most part, -listened quietly, only now and again putting a question so much to the -point as to amaze her companion. And as he neared the end, and these -questions and comments became more frequent, Geoffrey congratulated -himself on having taken her into his confidence.</p> - -<p>"Poor Neil!" she sighed at last. "How he must have suffered!"</p> - -<p>"And how he does suffer," Heron said, gloomily. "He loves his mother -beyond any created being, and he will never be at peace until he sees -her rescued from the fate to which she has been so unjustly condemned."</p> - -<p>"That shall be our task," responded Ruth, with alacrity. "Neil is too -weak a man to take this burden upon him. Now I know why I could never -love him altogether, why I was never satisfied."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" asked Heron, anxiously.</p> - -<p>"Well, it is this way," said Miss Cass, drawing figures on the gravel -with the tip of her umbrella. "I fell in love with him when I heard -him play, he looked so handsome and so noble--so inspired; but when we -were together something always seemed to be wanting. I know now what it -was--strength, the strength of a man. I believe, Geoffrey," she went -on without noticing that she was using his Christian name, that what -a woman wants in a husband is a master. "I wonder if I shall ever get -what I want? I don't know. Are there such men?" She looked sideways at -Heron, not in a coquettish way, but rather wistfully.</p> - -<p>Geoffrey felt that embarrassment which every honest man feels at the -thought of having an egotistical speech forced upon him. He loved this -girl, and he was sure that she loved him.</p> - -<p>"Well, Geoffrey," she said, after waiting in vain for a reply, "I will -be your wife."</p> - -<p>"You will My dearest!"</p> - -<p>"Hush! Don't take my hands; don't speak so loud. We are in a public -place, remember, and many eyes are on us. Yes, I will marry you, for -you are--a man!"</p> - -<p>"But I can never be your master, dearest," he said, filled with -delight; "for who would rule a dove?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! but that is where you are mistaken. I am not a dove by any manner -of means. I am a very self-willed girl; my presence here proves that. I -know you won't be a tyrant and thwart me in little things; but when I -am your wife I know that you, not I, will have the last word; and that -is what I wish it to be."</p> - -<p>"Well, perhaps there is some truth in what you say," he admitted, "but -you shall have your own way, dear--always."</p> - -<p>"Yes, always, that is when it fits in with your own ideas; but I am -quite willing to take you on those terms. You are as strong as Neil, -poor fellow! is weak; and that reminds me," she added, hastily, "that -we must not waste time in talking about ourselves. I must get back to -Brighton."</p> - -<p>"Are you staying there? May I----"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I am staying with an old schoolfellow." She gave him her address. -"And you may come over when you can, but don't neglect poor Neil for me. -We must settle this business first. Let us talk of it."</p> - -<p>"I would rather talk of you," he said, ruefully. "However, duty before -pleasure. What were you going to say?"</p> - -<p>"This. I believe that Mrs. Jenner is not guilty. If she were, she would -have asserted her innocence. The mere fact that she held her tongue is -so wonderful for a woman that I am sure she did not kill her husband."</p> - -<p>"Oh, she is innocent enough; let us accept that as a foregone -conclusion," said Geoffrey, hastily. He would not reveal the real -reason why Mrs. Jenner had not spoken lest Neil's secret should come to -light; so he let Ruth make what she liked out of the woman's silence.</p> - -<p>"Very good; we have decided that she is innocent. Now we must find -out who is guilty. I agree with you, Geoffrey, that the murder was -committed by some stranger. Jenner was near the window, and the crime -was committed in order to get possession of that red pocket-book -which had the materials for blackmailing in it. Now, what we have -to learn is what manner of life he led in the past; find out with -whom he associated, and who there was he would have been likely to -blackmail--then we shall know who killed him. Now, how are we to obtain -all that information? From Mrs. Jenner. I will see her again. She told -me all about the murder, but nothing relating to her past life."</p> - -<p>"There is another person who can tell," Ruth said, thoughtfully. "My -father. Oh, I know--I found out--how, it doesn't matter--that Jenner -was a clerk in papa's office, that Mrs. Jenner was my sister Amy's -governess. I'll ask her. She may know something about Mrs. Jenner -and her husband likely to throw light on all this. And I must go to -the Turnpike House, for there I may find some evidence--I don't know -what--but something." Ruth sighed. "I will go to the Turnpike House if -only out of curiosity. Now, this is what we have to do: You must see -Mrs. Jenner, and find out all you can, setting it down in writing. I -will question papa and Amy, and write down all that they tell me. And I -will go to the Turnpike House, then we will meet and compare notes. Is -it agreed?"</p> - -<p>She rose to her feet.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is agreed. But do not go yet."</p> - -<p>"I must, or I shall not catch my train, and, besides, I am hungry and -thirsty. I want to go back to Mrs. Jent's and get a cup of tea. Come."</p> - -<p>"Will you see Neil?" he asked as they walked towards the cottage.</p> - -<p>She shook her head. "I think not; the sight of me will only agitate -him. You need not say anything about my having been until he is quite -better.</p> - -<p>"It is odd that you should have spoken of your sister," Heron said, -abruptly, "for Neil has been worrying about her, or, at least, about -her eldest boy, George."</p> - -<p>"Ah, George is a great friend of his and adores him; but what is he -worrying about George for?"</p> - -<p>"Well, he got it into his head some little time ago that he was going -to die, and he wanted to leave George some gift or another."</p> - -<p>"Why didn't he do that in his will?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I expect because it was hardly worth setting down in a legal -document, for the gift is only a toy horse, a brown animal of but -little beauty. Neil has had it all his life, and has an extraordinary -affection for it. Nothing would do but that I should take it to George. -So now, as you will no doubt be going up to your sister's in town, you -might save me the journey by taking it for me. Will you, dear? It is -wrapped up and all ready to go."</p> - -<p>Ruth laughed. "Oh, I will take it with pleasure, and I'm quite sure -George will be delighted. He is five now, and just the age for such a -toy. By the way, I suppose you know that Amy has engaged Jennie Brawn -to teach him?"</p> - -<p>"Has she really? And what may she be going to teach him--how to write -poetry?"</p> - -<p>"Geoffrey, I really can't have you making fun of Jennie, for she -is the dearest girl in all the world. Now, I know what you are going to -say, and you may just save yourself the trouble. It was I who asked Amy -to engage her. Her family are all so poor, and she makes next to nothing -out of her poetry besides, her sister is old enough to look after the -house. Amy is paying her very well, too. I will say that for Amy, she -is not shabby over money."</p> - -<p>Geoffrey laughed and held open the gate. Ruth was received by her old -nurse with some stiffness, for Mrs. Jent had not yet forgiven the trick -which had been played upon her. But the girl apologised so charmingly -that the heart of the old dame was softened, and when she heard from -Mr. Heron that Miss Cass was going to help him prove Mrs. Jenner's -innocence and so restore Neil's peace of mind she became quite herself -again.</p> - -<p>"Though I don't see, sir, how you are going to help Mrs. Jenner," she -said. "She killed him sure enough; she killed him."</p> - -<p>"No, she didn't," Ruth said, decidedly. "I am certain she is innocent."</p> - -<p>"If she was, why didn't she say so?" Mrs. Jent asked.</p> - -<p>"That Mr. Heron is going to find out from her."</p> - -<p>"I shall ask her, of course," Heron said, in some confusion.</p> - -<p>Ruth's eyes were on him like a flash, and Ruth's eyes saw more than -they were intended to see.</p> - -<p>"You know why she did not speak, Geoffrey?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do," he confessed, "but I cannot tell you why. Don't ask me."</p> - -<p>"Has it to do with Neil?"</p> - -<p>"Don't ask me," he repeated, with a frown. "I decline to tell you."</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Mrs. Jent had prepared the table, observing betweenwhiles -that Neil still slept. Geoffrey had already been to see him, having -seized the opportunity while Ruth and her old nurse were making up -their tiff; and he reported that the invalid looked much better for the -rest. He had brought with him a paper parcel.</p> - -<p>"Here is the horse, Ruth," he said.</p> - -<p>"The horse!" cried Mrs. Jent, who was pouring out the tea. "Is that my -dear boy's horse--the one he wants to give to little Master Chisel?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I should have sent it long ago, but now Miss Ruth will take it."</p> - -<p>"Don't you, miss, don't you!" said the old woman. "It will bring no -good luck to the child. That was the toy with which my dear boy was -playing when his father was murdered!"</p> - -<p>"Ugh!" exclaimed the girl, dropping the parcel with horror.</p> - -<p>"Ah, you may well say that." And Mrs. Jent nodded her head. "I don't -know what possesses Mr. Neil to give it to Master George. It is true my -dear boy loves it. But think of the history! He has forgotten it. He -carried that toy with him when his poor mother ran away into the night. -All through his illness he held to it, and when we took it away he -cried so much that we had to give it back. The nasty thing!" finished -Mrs. Jent with energy. "Throw it into the fire."</p> - -<p>"No, no," cried Geoffrey, picking it up. "Neil would never forgive us -if we did that. I'll keep it here and not give it to George at all."</p> - -<p>"Give it to me," and Ruth took the parcel from him. "I won't let George -have it, but I'll take it down with me to Hollyoaks."</p> - -<p>"What for?" asked Geoffrey, uneasily. "It has disagreeable -associations."</p> - -<p>"For that very reason," said Ruth. "There is a clairvoyant near our -place, a lady I know very well. If you put a thing into her hands she -can tell you all about it."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense!" cried Geoffrey, laughing, while Mrs. Jent held up her hands -and muttered something about the Witch of Endor.</p> - -<p>"It is not nonsense," Ruth said, energetically. "Mrs. Garvey tells the -most wonderful things. At all events I'll try her with this. Who knows -but she may see in her vision--which this will bring to her"--said Ruth -in parenthesis--"the face of the murderer looking through the window."</p> - -<p>"I don't believe a word of it," laughed Geoffrey, with the scepticism -of a man of the world. "It is ridiculous. However, if you like you can -try, but don't ask me to be present at your hanky-panky."</p> - -<p>"I won't," laughed Ruth. "But I'll make a convert of convert of you by -getting Mrs. Garvey to say who killed Neil's father."</p> - -<p>"Hush!" murmured Mrs. Jent, glancing nervously at the inner door. "He -will hear, Make no mistake, Miss, Mrs. Jenner did it."</p> - -<p>"I am certain she did not. However, I trust Mrs. Garvey to put us on -the right track. I take the horse down with me." And take it she did, -with results quite unexpected to herself, to Heron, and to Mrs. Jent.</p> - -<p>Then she had a cup of tea and was escorted by Geoffrey to the station. -Needless to say she teased him the whole way.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h4> -<h5>JOB, THE SAPENGRO.</h5> -<br> - -<p>In another week Ruth took leave of the delights of Brighton, much to -the regret of Mrs. Presser. A letter from Hollyoaks had advised her -that Mrs. Chisel and her three children were down on a visit, and that -Jennie Brawn, in the capacity of governess, was with them. Mr. Cass, -it appeared, had gone to Bordeaux on business, so Ruth was wanted to -represent him at the paternal mansion. And anxious to start hunting -for evidence likely to reveal the truth about the Jenner case, she -willingly returned.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Chisel was a tall and somewhat stout woman of the Junoesque -type, with a high opinion of herself, her children, her position, her -money, and, indeed, of everything which belonged to her, with the one -exception of her husband. When Mrs. Marshall heard that Amy Chisel was -at Hollyoaks she sent word that she would not enter her brother's house -until it was purged of the presence of his elder daughter. In reply to -this amiable message Mrs. Chisel hoped her aunt Inez would not spoil -her visit by coming over. Upon which Mrs. Marshall made a point of -calling every other day and remarking openly and unfavourably upon her -niece's management of her children.</p> - -<p>These comments were really quite undeserved; for the three children -whom Mrs. Chisel--on sufficiently obvious authority--called "her -jewels" were nice little people, pretty and well-behaved. The two -girls, aged respectively seven and ten, were demure and even a trifle -prim. They were always smartly dressed and never made a mess of their -clothes. And, moreover, they stood in great awe of their mother, who, -as she frequently told them, was a woman in a thousand. It was as well, -perhaps, for the peace of the world that such was the case.</p> - -<p>Needless to say, Ruth did not present Neil's gift to her little nephew. -Mrs. Garvey must see it; and meanwhile she kept it stowed away; for had -her sister known that it was intended for George, she would have had it -out of her at all costs.</p> - -<p>It was on the morning after her arrival that Ruth and Amy had their -first little encounter; the subject of it being Mr. Geoffrey Heron.</p> - -<p>"What a fool you have made of yourself falling in love with that violin -creature!" cried Mrs. Chisel in her high rasping voice. "He is no fit -husband for you!"</p> - -<p>"He would, after all, make a more sensible husband than Julian," -retorted Ruth, who shared her sister's opinion of the unhappy Chisel. -"And, thank you, Amy, I have a right to choose a husband for myself.</p> - -<p>"You are not fit to do so," remarked Mrs. Chisel, with her customary -tact. "If you were a sensible girl you would marry Geoffrey Heron, and -take a good position in the county."</p> - -<p>"I would not marry Mr. Heron if there were not another man in the -world" cried the girl, mendaciously. "Why are you so disagreeable, Amy?"</p> - -<p>"Disagreeable?" echoed the matron. "I am the most agreeable woman in -existence when I am properly treated. No one but my own family thinks -me disagreeable."</p> - -<p>"Ah! they know you so well," said Ruth.</p> - -<p>"That's just it; you none of you know me. If I were like Aunt Inez, -now, you might talk; she is disagreeable, if you like."</p> - -<p>"Well, Amy," said Ruth, who had more important things to discuss, "do -not let us quarrel."</p> - -<p>"Do I ever quarrel? I ask you that!"</p> - -<p>"No; you never do," replied the girl, knowing well what answer was -expected. "But do leave my marriage prospects alone, my dear!"</p> - -<p>"I'm the last person in the world to interfere," cried Mrs. Chisel. "I -think a girl should settle those things for herself. But I must say I -should be happy if I saw you married to Geoffrey Heron."</p> - -<p>"In that case you'll live for many a long day yet." And Ruth made a -hurried exit.</p> - -<p>This was one of many tiffs they had. In spite of Ruth's diplomacy, Amy -would make trouble; so, in despair, Miss Cass asked Aunt Inez to come -as often as possible--and the amiable lady, knowing Amy did not want -her, took good care to come. So Ruth was left in peace; for when the -battles were raging, she generally took refuge with Jennie.</p> - -<p>One of the first things she did on meeting Miss Brawn was to tell -her all about Neil's troubles; that she had promised Geoffrey to say -nothing about them did not matter to her. For she was a woman, and -found it difficult enough to keep a secret; besides which, she knew -that Jennie could be trusted, being a girl who could hold her tongue -when necessary. And Ruth wanted someone with whom she could discuss the -case, and any new facts which came to light. So there and then she told -Jennie everything.</p> - -<p>"Isn't it terrible, dear?" she said when Miss Brawn was in possession -of the whole sad story. "What do you think of it?"</p> - -<p>"I think Mrs. Jenner would be the last person in the world to kill her -husband, from what you say of her. But, oh, the poor Master! How he -must suffer! Ruth, was it because of this you gave him up?" And she -looked volumes of reproach.</p> - -<p>"No, my dear, it was not. If I had really loved him this would only -have made me cling closer; but I merely admired him--as you said. And I -find that I like Geoffrey Heron better."</p> - -<p>"But you told your sister----"</p> - -<p>"I know what I told her!" snapped Ruth. "I am not going to give her the -satisfaction of thinking she has biassed my judgment in any way. You -must keep my secret, Jennie, until I have told my father. When he has -consented, which I know he will do very willingly, Geoffrey and I can -arrange our future. But I do not want our engagement to be known until -this mystery has been cleared up.</p> - -<p>"It may never be cleared up."</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, it will. I have taken the matter in hand," said the girl, -grandly. "If the truth is to be found out, I shall be the one to find -it. And I am going to the Turnpike House to make a search."</p> - -<p>"What do you expect to find?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," she said, vaguely. "I may discover something--I don't -exactly know what; but, at all events," she broke off, "it will do no -harm to make a search on the very scene of the tragedy. As to Neil--now -that he won't marry me--you can make love to him, Jennie dear!"</p> - -<p>Miss Brawn coloured. "I shall do nothing of the sort," she declared. "I -love him, it is true; but I am not going to hunt after him, or after -any man, for that matter."</p> - -<p>"My dear," Ruth said, and there was a world of pity in her voice, "you -can't live with Amy all your life--she will wear you out!"</p> - -<p>Jennie laughed in her quiet way. "I am not so easily worn out," she -said; "and, indeed, I am very comfortable with Mrs. Chisel; she is most -kind. I daresay some people would think her trying, but, after all, her -heart is in the right place."</p> - -<p>"Ah, that is always said about people who have nothing else to -recommend them," Ruth said, with a grimace. "Well, I am going out now -to make my grand discovery at the Turnpike House--and you, Jennie?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I have my teaching. Mildred and Ethel must have their lessons."</p> - -<p>"It is not as nice as writing poetry."</p> - -<p>"No, of course not. But we can't have all we want in this world."</p> - -<p>"You shall have Neil, if I can get him for you."</p> - -<p>"Don't--don't! I should die of shame it you said a word to him. Now, -promise me, Ruth, that you will not interfere."</p> - -<p>"Not without telling you. Oh, you stupid dear, there are ways of -managing a man without speaking. But have no fear," she added, "Neil is -far enough away just now, and won't be well, poor fellow, for many a -long day. You are safe from my match-making for a time, Jennie."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad of that. You are so impetuous, you know."</p> - -<p>Miss Cass laughed, and, with a nod, took her departure. Mrs. Chisel -saw her from the drawing-room window and frowned. "There she goes all -alone, to walk by herself," she said, tautologically. "It is positively -indecent to see a young girl without a chaperon. But, then, Ruth is so -headstrong." And Mrs. Chisel sighed to think how foolish the girl was -not to take her for a model.</p> - -<p>But Ruth's beauty was well protected by Ruth's temper; and she would -have travelled through Thibet as fearlessly as she now walked through -the lonely country towards the old Turnpike House.</p> - -<p>With her usual perversity Miss Cass did not keep to the high road as -an ordinary young lady should and would have done; she made a bee-line -for her destination right across country, She passed through fields, -and clambered over hedges; she slipped along by paths, until in a -remarkably short space of time she saw the dilapidated house nested in -its green jungle. It looked haggard and evil even in the cheerful light -of the morning sun.</p> - -<p>"Well, here I am!" she said, tempting Fate with her usual bold speech. -"What is going to happen next?"</p> - -<p>As if in answer to her call, a face suddenly appeared at the -window--the very window, as she believed through which the assassin -had struck at his unhappy victim. It was a swarthy, cunning face with -coal-black eyes, having over them the kind of film which veils the -eyes of birds. The tangled black hair crowned a sallow, lean, Oriental -countenance; and the un-English look of the man--for it was a man--was -accentuated by a red scarf twisted round a sinewy throat. It was not -his foreign appearance that startled Ruth, but the look of death on the -face. He was far gone in consumption. Seeing a pretty girl he leered, -and cast a sly glance of admiration at her.</p> - -<p>"Duvel! My beauty," he croaked, hoarsely. "What's to do here?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing that can possibly matter to you," retorted Miss Cass, who was -not to be daunted by a gypsy. "Are you living here?"</p> - -<p>"I live here at times," said the man, evidently surprised at the -boldness of her address, "but mostly I'm on the road and in the tent of -the Romany. I'm no Gorgio to care for a roof-tree; but it's cruel work -in this England."</p> - -<p>"I see the climate is killing you," replied Ruth, for she was sorry to -see so fine a man suffering from an incurable disease. "You should get -a doctor to see you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my gorgeous angel, what things you say!" whined the man. "Where am -I to get the tizzy to pay? Give me a shilling, Miss."</p> - -<p>The girl took a half-crown from her pocket and gave it to him. He -disappeared from the window and came outside. Man and girl surveyed -each other in silence.</p> - -<p>"What is your name?" Ruth asked coolly.</p> - -<p>"Job," he said. "I belong to the Lovels, I do. And I'm a Sapengro, I -am."</p> - -<p>"What's that?"</p> - -<p>Job slipped his hand into his breast and brought out a small viper with -gleaming eyes, and a yellow body which glittered like gold. "This is a -sap," he said, and held the reptile towards Ruth.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I see. You are the master of the snake."</p> - -<p>"Duvel!" The gypsy stared at her in astonishment, and the film seemed -to peel off his eyes. "Do you know the black language?"</p> - -<p>"I know that 'engro' means a 'master,'" the girl said, carelessly, "and -you tell me that 'sap' is 'snake' so I put the two together. Master of -the Snake, Job Lovel--that's what you are."</p> - -<p>"Hang me if I ever heard a Gentile lady so bold!" cried the man, with -another stare, slipping the hissing viper back into his breast. "But I -say, lady, have you more coin--a mere sovereign now?"</p> - -<p>"I have not; and if I had, you would not get it."</p> - -<p>"But if I were to make you!" Job took a step forward.</p> - -<p>"I would run this through you!" And the gypsy found a shining steel -weapon at his breast. He started back with an oath. Ruth laughed; and -there was a merciless ring in her mirth which did more to terrify the -man than the sight of the weapon itself. "You are a brave Sapengro, -brother, to try and terrify a woman!" she said, in the Romany tongue.</p> - -<p>"Duvel!" cried Job again, and his expression changed to one of -friendliness and admiration. "Why didn't you say you were a Romany?"</p> - -<p>"Because I am a Gentile, brother," Ruth said, still in the calo jib. "I -took a fancy to learn your tongue, and I learnt it from a gypsy. I knew -Lurien, Dukkeripen, Hakkeripen, and all the rest. Well, can I put up my -dagger?"</p> - -<p>"You are a sacred sister to me," said Job, with deep respect; and she -saw from his manner that she had nothing further to fear. Indeed, he -offered her the half-a-crown which she had already given him. "Take it, -sister," he said. "You are a true gypsy to me, and I take nothing from -you."</p> - -<p>She laughed, and slipped her dagger into its sheath. "Keep it, Job," -she said, reverting to the English tongue. "I see you are poor and ill."</p> - -<p>"I am dying," replied the man in a sombre tone, still looking at her. -"Ah, soon I shall be in the earth with my sap--my only friend."</p> - -<p>"You had better go to Hollyoaks and get some food.</p> - -<p>"Hollyoaks?" he repeated, fixing his shining eyes on this--to him--very -extraordinary Gentile lady. "Do you live there? Is your name Cass?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I am the daughter of Mr. Cass, of Hollyoaks."</p> - -<p>"Duvel! and you come here!" he said, under his breath, and casting a -glance at the cottage behind him.</p> - -<p>"Why shouldn't I come here?" she asked, sharply. She fancied she saw an -uneasy look on his face.</p> - -<p>"Oh, nothing, my sister--nothing. You have an aunt--she is not Romany?"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Marshall? No. She knows nothing of the calo jib. Why do you ask?"</p> - -<p>Job burst out laughing, and nodded. "I go to her house for food -sometimes. She won't see me die for want of a crust. But you are her -niece," there was a puzzled look in his eyes. "Can I help you?"</p> - -<p>"No. I only came to look at the place. There was a murder committed -here."</p> - -<p>"Yes; but that was before I came into this part of the country. Well, -sister, what of that?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing. You can go; I want to look round here for a time.</p> - -<p>"I go, sister," he said, significantly. He held out the viper. "Will -you take the sap, my gorgeous Gentile lady?"</p> - -<p>"Ugh! No." She recoiled with a shriek from the wriggling reptile. "Take -the nasty thing away!"</p> - -<p>He stared and thrust it again into his bosom.</p> - -<p>"Ho!" he said. "You are a queer Gentile, you--like a man for boldness; -yet you fear a sap! Oh, rare." And he slapped his knee with a chuckle.</p> - -<p>"Go away," repeated Ruth. "Go to Hollyoaks and get some food."</p> - -<p>"Duvel!" he cried, quickly. "I'm for the road. My hunger is great. -Farewell, sister, I shall see you again," and he swung off with a -hacking cough tearing him, and smiling his careless smile.</p> - -<p>His tall form passed into the sunlight and vanished round a curve -of the road. Ruth watched him till he was out of sight, then took -her cane and began poking about the rubbish under the window where, -as Geoffrey surmised, the murderer had stood watching his intended -victim. On bending down to examine the ground more carefully, she saw -something glittering dimly. Almost without thinking she picked it up, -and found to her surprise and joy that it was an oval piece of gold -with a champagne bottle enamelled thereon with exquisite art. On the -other side was a catch which proved that the oval had formed part of a -cuff-link. Holding it in her small pink palm, Ruth looked now on this -treasure with the greatest delight.</p> - -<p>"This was dropped by the murderer," she said to herself. "It was torn -from his shirt cuff as he struck the blow, or there might have been a -quick struggle. Fancying my finding it after all these years! The rain -from the eaves has laid it bare. Ah! then the assassin was a gentleman. -Well, I ought to be satisfied with my day's work, but I shall come -again. What good fortune to have found this the very first time."</p> - -<p>She was so excited that she almost danced along the road as she took -her way home. But after a while she sobered down somewhat and glanced -suspiciously around for there had come upon her an undefinable feeling -of being watched.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h4> -<h5>THE CLAIRVOYANT.</h5> -<br> - -<p>If Ruth had but gone carefully through the deserted hovel she would -have made yet another discovery. Her instinct had not played her false -when she had felt that unfriendly eyes were upon her. For she had -been watched, and the watcher now emerged from the house to see her -disappear down the road. Much later on she came to know of the spy.</p> - -<p>At all events she had found the link--the pale gold oval with the -champagne bottle enamelled upon it. It was a strange device, she -thought, for a sleeve-link; certainly it was the first of the kind she -had seen. And she fancied that the other portions of the links would -bear the same design; but in this she was wrong. What she had found -proved to her that the assassin had been a gentleman; for no poor -creature could have afforded to wear such jewellery. But how to make -use of the discovery? How was she to find out to whom the link had -belonged, especially now that so many years had passed? The owner might -be dead; he might be out of England! There remained the one expedient -of asking Mrs. Jenner if she could remember anyone who had worn such -links. So this Ruth made up her mind to do as soon as she could see -Geoffrey. He might question the unfortunate woman; and through a series -of leading questions the truth might be revealed. Meanwhile, feeling -that nothing else was to be done for the moment, she went to see Mrs. -Garvey. With her powers, she might reveal strange things about the -owner of that piece of gold.</p> - -<p>The girl had intended to take the brown horse with her; but on going -to the drawer in which she had put it she found it empty. Then she -remembered that her little nieces had received permission to turn over -her silks and laces she questioned them about the missing toy, and -Ethel, the eldest, frankly confessed that they had taken it for their -brother George.</p> - -<p>"I hope you do not mind, Aunt Ruth," the child said, pleadingly; "you -said we could take what we liked that wet day, so long as we put the -things tidy. We thought George might like the horse, so we gave it to -him."</p> - -<p>Strange, thought Ruth, that the toy should have passed into the very -hands for which it was intended; but she shuddered at the thought of -the lad playing with a thing of such ghastly associations! It was her -own fault; she had forgotten that it was in that drawer when she had -told the children that they might play with her chiffons.</p> - -<p>"But I told you, Ethel, to put them back," she said. "Why did you not -replace the toy?"</p> - -<p>Ethel drew a piteous lip and tears came into her eyes. "Oh, don't be -cross, Aunt Ruth, and don't tell mother! You know how angry she will -be. We put everything back but the horse, and George would not give it -up to us."</p> - -<p>"Why could you not take it from him?" her aunt asked, impatiently.</p> - -<p>"Because he has hidden it away," sobbed the little girl. "He won't say -where it is."</p> - -<p>So, after pacifying the child, Ruth went off in search of George. She -came upon that young gentleman on the terrace playing with a cart. -Naturally, she looked for the horse which should have been drawing the -vehicle, but no horse was to be seen. "Where is your gee-gee?" coaxed -Aunt Ruth.</p> - -<p>"Gone to grass," lisped George, who was precocious beyond telling.</p> - -<p>"You bring him back from grass, Georgie, and give him to Aunt Ruth."</p> - -<p>But this he positively refused to do. The animal was hidden away, and -all she could say or do failed to compel its production. "Dobbin is -ill; he is in the paddock," was all that he would say. And from this -position she failed to move him.</p> - -<p>Ultimately she had to go without it. She made George promise to bring -it from the paddock next day, and relying on this slender chance of -recovering a toy which should never have fallen into his hands, Ruth -went her way, hoping to learn something from Mrs. Garvey about the -broken link.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Garvey was a thin, pale woman, who practised the calling of a -clairvoyant, in opposition to her husband's wishes.</p> - -<p>"My dear!" cried the lady, receiving Ruth with great effusion. "I am -glad to see you. But this is not unexpected; for it was borne in upon -me, by some telepathic communication, that you were in trouble, and -would come to me for assistance. Well. I am quite ready to give it to -you."</p> - -<p>"Do you know----" Ruth began, somewhat I puzzled by this exordium.</p> - -<p>"I know nothing--nor do I wish to know. The spiritual insight I possess -will reveal to me what is for your good. Come into my temple, and I -will see what is to be done."</p> - -<p>The room which was dignified by the name of temple was a small bare -apartment thickly carpeted, the windows being darkened by green blinds. -For quite three minutes there was a dead silence. Then Mrs. Garvey -spoke. "Murder," she said, in a low emotional voice. "This piece of -gold has to do with a crime. I see a bare room--a child with a knife -in his hand--a dead man at the child's feet. There is hate in my -heart--not of the child; but of the dead. I am in the darkness--in -mist--in rain--the dead man is my enemy he will trouble me no more."</p> - -<p>"But who are you?" cried Ruth, her blood running cold at hearing the -circumstances of the crime so minutely described.</p> - -<p>The woman gave a low cry. "I will not tell--I will not tell!" she said, -in a fierce voice, quite at variance with that in which she usually -spoke. "I am safe after all these years! I am--you--will never----" Her -voice died away in a drawl, and she became silent.</p> - -<p>"Tell me more--more!" cried Ruth, springing towards her. But Mrs. -Garvey made no reply. The influence of the spirit, of the piece of -gold, or whatever else it was that moved her, had passed, and she was -in what appeared to be a heavy sleep.</p> - -<p>Seeing that nothing further was to be got out of her for the moment, -Ruth obeyed the instructions which she had received beforehand, and -drawing up the green blind, opened the window. The light and the keen -air pouring into the room seemed to dispel Mrs. Garvey's drowsiness. -She stirred, moved her arms, and woke with a yawn to find Miss Cass -bending over her. Of all that had passed she was evidently quite -oblivious; she even seemed surprised at the sight of her visitor's -scared face.</p> - -<p>"My dear," she said at last, "I hope I have not been telling you -anything very terrible!"</p> - -<p>"Don't you know what you have said?"</p> - -<p>"No. Something speaks through me; I am only the vehicle. I remember -nothing when I come out of my trances."</p> - -<p>"Do you know anything about the Turnpike House murder?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Garvey started. "Ah! it was about that crime you have been asking -me--the Jenner tragedy? I know--the man was murdered by his wife. And -what has this piece of gold got to do with it?"</p> - -<p>"It belonged to the murderer," Ruth said with a shudder. "It seemed -to me that you spoke in the person of the murderer. You described the -room, its appearance at the time of the crime--the dead body, and -a child holding a knife, and looking on. Then you said you were in -darkness, that you would never be found out, and--oh! you said a lot of -strange things--that the child had a knife in his hand, and that he was -standing over the body," faltered Ruth, thinking she was about to hear -that Neil had killed his father.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Garvey shook her head. "It was not the child," she said, -decidedly; "he would not have had those links about him. The man who -killed his father wore them, else I could not have told you what I did. -Where did you find this piece of gold?"</p> - -<p>"Under the window of the room in which the crime was committed. What -you say fits in with my own belief that the blow was struck through the -window. You can't remember who you were--in the trance, I mean?"</p> - -<p>"No," said the woman gently; "I remember nothing. Find the man to whom -the link belongs. I can give no further or better advice than that."</p> - -<p>"That is easier said than done," protested the girl. "How am I to find -the man?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Garvey shook her head. She could give no more information, and she -said so. Moreover, she was exhausted after the effort she had made, -seeing which Ruth took her broken link and returned home more perplexed -than ever; that being the usual frame of mind of those who dabble in -the supernatural. Yet she fully believed what the clairvoyant had told -her; Mrs. Garvey could not possibly have known of the scene in that -bare room immediately after the crime had been committed. Mrs. Jenner -alone could have described it; and she had told it only to Geoffrey -Heron.</p> - -<p>Although Miss Cass's thoughts were much taken up with the case, she saw -no way of prosecuting further inquiries. The toy horse in the hands of -the clairvoyant might perhaps have helped her; but, truth to tell, she -had forgotten all about it! Meanwhile she wrote to Geoffrey and related -what had happened. With regard to the clairvoyant, she quite expected -that the hard-headed young man would scoff at her; but, much, to her -surprise, he did not. In place of a letter, the young squire himself -appeared, with full permission from Neil to tell Ruth the reason why -his mother had held her peace. He did not stay at Hollyoaks, but drove -over from his own place.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Chisel received him with effusion, and worried him with questions -about himself; and all the time, for reasons of his own connected -with love and business, he was dying to be alone with Miss Cass. At -length, however, Mrs. Chisel, putting it in her own graceful way, -thought it would only be fair to give poor Ruth her chance of pushing -her conquest; so she left the winter garden on the plea that her dear -children required their mother's eye; and Geoffrey Heron proceeded at -once to the business which had brought him.</p> - -<p>"I am beginning to think something of your clairvoyant after all," he -said. "What you wrote to me about Mrs. Garvey's description of the -scene must be wonderfully accurate; yes, even to the child with the -knife in his hand. That child was Neil; and it was because his mother -found him standing thus that she has undergone all this punishment -without speaking a word in her own defence."</p> - -<p>"Gracious!" was Ruth's not very original exclamation. "Did she believe -that he had killed his father? How terrible!"</p> - -<p>"Very terrible!" said Heron, gravely. "Now you can understand how it -was that Webster was taken ill. For his mother had told him that she -believed him to have killed his father; then she forbade him to re-open -the case. She was perfectly willing to remain where she was so long as -he was safe and free."</p> - -<p>"Oh, she is a noble woman!" cried Ruth. "But it was not Neil who either -consciously or unconsciously committed the crime; Mrs. Garvey says he -did not. But who it was she cannot tell. One moment, Geoffrey, and I -will tell you all more explicitly than I could do by letter." And she -proceeded to relate the whole story from beginning to end.</p> - -<p>"Well, we are as far from the truth as ever," Geoffrey said, when she -had finished. "I think the next step is to shew that broken link to -Mrs. Jenner. She may be able to remember someone who used to wear such -an ornament."</p> - -<p>Ruth took the link out of her purse and gave it to him. "But you will -send it back again when you have done with it?" she said. "I want to -keep it."</p> - -<p>"As a memento of this horrible affair?" he asked, with a smile. "You -are like the man who had a book bound in a human skin. I do not care -for such things myself; but you shall have it back with a full report -of what Mrs. Jenner says. And now, dear, I think we may talk a little -about ourselves. After all, this case is not the whole of life to us."</p> - -<p>And they did talk about themselves. Among other things, she told him of -her encounter with Job, the Sapengro, and his astonishment when she had -spoken to him in the Romany tongue. "How on earth did you learn it?" he -asked, amazed.</p> - -<p>"Oh, when I was at school, and after I left, too, I was fond of reading -Lavengro."</p> - -<p>Then they dropped the subject, and were busy talking of themselves and -their prospects when Mrs. Chisel glided into the room; and Geoffrey -found that he had an important engagement at the nearest town, and took -his leave. For the society of the elder sister was more than he could -endure. They both went to see him off, and at the door a few whispered -words passed between him and Ruth. Mrs. Chisel was immediately on the -alert.</p> - -<p>"What did he say to you?" she asked as soon as he was out of earshot.</p> - -<p>"He made me an offer of marriage, which, of course, I refused," Ruth -said, flippantly, and then darted off to seek safety in her own room -before the offended matron could empty upon her the vials of her wrath.</p> - -<p>On her way up she was stopped by Mildred Chisel, who held up a new -doll for inspection. "I call her Jane," said the small child, in a -confidential whisper. "She is new, but her clothes are old. See, Aunt -Ruth, she has all the dresses and brooches of old Peggy."</p> - -<p>Ruth looked carelessly at the doll. Then her eyes were suddenly caught -by an ornament which served, in Mildred's eyes, for a brooch. It was a -gold oval, enamelled with a horse, and it was the double--in all but -the device--of the link which she had found. "Where did you get that?" -she asked, faintly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, grandpapa gave me that brooch!" replied the child.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">CHAPTER XV.</a></h4> -<h5>THE PUNISHMENT OF CURIOSITY.</h5> -<br> - -<p>For the first time in her careless, happy life Ruth knew the torments -of an anxious mind. A chill struck through her very being at the -suggestion that her dearly-loved father might be implicated in the -sordid tragedy. Yet she did not lose her presence of mind, but wheedled -the so-called brooch out of Mildred on the strict understanding that it -should be restored next morning.</p> - -<p>Her thoughts were painful in the extreme. For an examination of the -piece of gold proved beyond doubt that it belonged to the same set of -links as did the one she found under the window. Now Ruth recollected -that in some Bond-street shop she had seen a similar set of links, -the four ovals of which were enamelled respectively with a horse, -a champagne bottle, a pack of cards, and a ballet girl. They were -playfully denominated the four vices.</p> - -<p>"Of course it is utterly impossible that he can have anything to do -with it," she thought as she paced her bedroom. "There could have been -no motive. Yet again, how did he, of all men, come into possession of -that link?"</p> - -<p>She remembered now the horror she had felt at the idea of marrying Neil -when she had come to know that his mother was--at least to all outward -appearances--a murderess. She judged that if her father should be -guilty then Geoffrey would feel the same towards her. Again and again -she tried to find some explanation, and again and again she failed. -Only by her father himself could her doubts be set at rest, and he was -absent. True, he would return in three days; but how to live during -that time with this hideous doubt in her mind? She could imagine now -how people felt when they were going mad. Sending down an excuse for -not appearing at dinner, she went to bed. To face the world, even her -own small world, was more than she could bear. Her only relief was in -solitude.</p> - -<p>Of course, as might have been expected, Amy came up to fuss over her -and offer advice and blame her for having made herself ill in some way -which Mrs. Chisel herself would have avoided.</p> - -<p>Then in came Jennie, creeping like a mouse, with soothing speech and -cool hands for the burning brow of the sick girl.</p> - -<p>"I am not well dear," she said, in reply to Miss Brawn's inquiries. -"All I want is a good night's rest. In the morning I shall be myself -again." And with this answer Jennie had to be content.</p> - -<p>Left to herself, Ruth began her self-communings. It crossed her mind -that her father, who had always been a great admirer of beauty, might -have been attracted by Mrs. Jenner's good looks. But even as she -thought of it she dismissed the idea with a blush of shame. Who was -she to think ill of her father? But she would certainly question Mrs. -Chisel about her former governess, and would learn what had been Mr. -Cass's attitude towards her.</p> - -<p>Ruth, anxious to propitiate her, offered on the following morning to -help with the work, but was told she could not do it as Mrs. Chisel -wished. In spite of which disagreeable speech she waited patiently for -an opportunity of introducing the subject of Amy's childhood and Amy's -governess, and kept her temper, as best she might, under a deluge of -platitudes and self-glorification on the part of her sister.</p> - -<p>At length, after having made attacks upon several of her acquaintances, -the good lady indirectly introduced the subject upon which Ruth wished -to speak by giving her opinion as to the incapacity of Jennie Brawn as -governess.</p> - -<p>"I do not say she does not do her best," she said, magnanimously, "but, -oh, dear me! Jane Brawn"--so she invariably referred to Jennie--"has no -more idea of teaching than a Hottentot. I know how the thing should be -done, as I have told her a dozen times, but she will not take advice."</p> - -<p>"What about your own governess?" put in Ruth, artfully. "Was she any -good, Amy?"</p> - -<p>"She was excellent--as a governess," returned Mrs. Chisel, with a sniff -of disparagement; "but as a woman she left much to be desired."</p> - -<p>"But, my dear Amy, how do you know that? You were only a child."</p> - -<p>"Children are much sharper than their elders give them credit for. I -was ten years of age when Miss Laurence left and quite old enough to -see through her designs."</p> - -<p>"Miss Laurence? Was that her name, Amy?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. She afterwards married a man called Jenner, a clerk in papa's -office, and we saw no more of her as I had gone to school. A very good -thing, too," went on Mrs. Chisel, with an air of offended virtue. -"My mother never liked her. And she did turn out badly, after all, -murdering her husband. I can only say it was a mercy it was not papa."</p> - -<p>"Why should it have been papa?" asked Ruth, with a beating heart.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Chisel tossed her head and observed that men were always men. -"Papa is as good as the best of them," she added, "but all the same, he -is a son of Adam, like the rest. And when an artful minx---- Ah, well, -it does not do to talk of these things."</p> - -<p>"I see," said Ruth, taking the bull by the horns. "Miss Laurence was -pretty, papa was weak, and mamma----"</p> - -<p>"Ruth!" screamed her sister, stopping her ears. "I will not hear these -things! How can you speak so of papa? Pretty, indeed! I never thought -her pretty. If you like--oh, yes, she would have made a fool of papa if -mamma had not dismissed her."</p> - -<p>"I thought she left here to get married?"</p> - -<p>"You may think what you like," Mrs. Chisel said with dignity. "No one -can say that I talk about the weaknesses of my parents. All the same, -Mrs. Jenner, as she now is, was a minx, And made eyes at papa. I saw -something of that, and I heard more. Though I was a child, I was not a -fool, Ruth. Oh, it was as well that she left Hollyoaks, I can tell you. -What an escape for poor, dear papa!"</p> - -<p>And more than this Mrs. Chisel would not say. But Ruth had gathered -that Miss Laurence had been an apple of discord in the house. From all -that she had heard, in the strange way in which sharp children do hear -things, Ruth had come to think that her mother had been more than a -trifle jealous. Doubtless, if Amy's story could be believed, she had -hated Mrs. Jenner for her beauty and had got her out of the house. She -anxiously awaited the return of Mr. Cass from Bordeaux.</p> - -<p>In due time he arrived, looking all the better for his journey, and was -welcomed by Mrs. Chisel with enthusiasm. He was more pleased to see his -grandchildren than their mother, for, like everyone else, he found her -a trifle wearisome. As for Ruth, when she saw once more her father's -grave face and kindly eyes, she was ashamed of all that had been in her -mind; and she displayed so much affection that Mr. Cass was surprised, -for as a rule his younger daughter was not demonstrative.</p> - -<p>"You don't look well, Ruth," he said. And indeed her face was worn and -thin. "What is the matter?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing, papa. What should be the matter?"</p> - -<p>"You are worrying about young Webster?" he asked, rather sharply.</p> - -<p>"No, indeed," she protested. "I have quite got over my feeling for him. -It was a mere girlish fancy."</p> - -<p>"Of course it was," put in Mrs. Chisel, with superior wisdom. "And she -is taking my advice, papa, about Mr. Heron."</p> - -<p>"Is this true, Ruth?"</p> - -<p>"Well, it may be," she said, hesitatingly. "I like him much better -than I did. Have you heard anything of Mr. Webster, papa?" For she was -anxious to hear if her father knew that Neil was at Bognor.</p> - -<p>"No, nothing. I believe he is abroad, and I sincerely hope that he will -stay there. Marry Heron, my dear Ruth, and forget all about him."</p> - -<p>Ruth found it impossible to say more then, but determined to wait until -her sister had retired for the night before seeking speech with her -father.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass was pleasantly surprised when Ruth came into the library about -ten o'clock. As a rule he saw her only for an hour in the drawing-room -after dinner. He had quite expected that the two sisters would be -chatting in their own rooms by this time.</p> - -<p>"Well, my dear," he said, gaily, "have you come to give your old father -some of your company? I suppose this is to make up for my absence."</p> - -<p>"Yes," she said, as gaily as she could. "You have been away so long, -and I do see very little of you, papa. I want to see as much of you as -possible."</p> - -<p>"Until you leave me for Heron," he said, patting her hand. "Seriously, -my dear, I hope you will marry him. He is a good fellow, and will make -the best of husbands for my Ruth."</p> - -<p>"He wants me to be his wife," Ruth said, gloomily enough. "I have not -decided yet; I may or may not marry him. But you can set your mind at -rest about Neil Webster, papa. I would not marry him if there was not -another man in the world."</p> - -<p>Something in her voice struck Mr. Cass unpleasantly and he looked -sharply at her. "Why not?" he demanded.</p> - -<p>She returned his look boldly. "Because I know now why you did not wish -me to be his wife," she said.</p> - -<p>He lifted his eyebrows. "Woman's curiosity again," he said, harshly. -"What do you know?"</p> - -<p>"I know that his real name is Jenner, and that his mother----"</p> - -<p>"Stop!" cried her father, his face growing haggard before her eyes. -"Who told you this nonsense?"</p> - -<p>"It is not nonsense," she cried in despair. "Oh, why will you not trust -me? I know that it is true. Mrs. Jent told me."</p> - -<p>"Oh! Then that was why you went to Brighton?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I was quite determined to find out why you forbade the marriage."</p> - -<p>"I see," he said, ironically. "Well, are you any the happier for this -discovery?"</p> - -<p>She hid her face with a cry. "Heaven knows I am the most unhappy girl -in the world!" she moaned.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said her father, a word of meaning in his voice. "So you do love -the man after all?"</p> - -<p>"No; but--never mind. Tell me, papa, is it true?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. You know so much now that you may as well know more. Mrs. Jenner -murdered her husband and has suffered imprisonment all these years."</p> - -<p>"She did not murder him!" cried Ruth.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass, who was swinging the poker in his hands, dropped it with -a crash. "Ah! and how do you know that she did not?" he asked in a -stifled voice.</p> - -<p>"Because Geoffrey says----"</p> - -<p>"Heron!" He rose to his feet. "What has he to do with all this?"</p> - -<p>"He is a friend of Neil's, and----"</p> - -<p>"A friend of Neil's?" Mr. Cass said, incredulously. "How can that -be? They never even got on well together; they were rivals. I do not -believe it."</p> - -<p>"Will you believe me when I tell you that Geoffrey is nursing Neil at -Bognor in Mrs. Jent's house? He is, then. And Geoffrey wrote telling -you that he was abroad--and Neil, too--to keep you away from Bognor."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass stood as though turned to stone, and the haggard look on his -face seemed to grow more marked.</p> - -<p>"There appears to be a lot of plotting going on behind my back," he -said, quietly. "My own daughter is plotting against me. Why did you not -tell me all this? No, never mind. You have told me so many lies that I -cannot believe you. Do not answer that question. But I must ask you to -tell me what this means?"</p> - -<p>"I have told no lies," cried Ruth, indignantly. "If you had been more -open with me, papa, I would never have set to work to find out this -affair. I will tell you all, just as it happened, and you can judge for -yourself if I have been wrong."</p> - -<p>"Nothing can excuse your silence," he said, bitterly. "You don't know -what harm may come of this meddling with what does not concern you. -Well, I will hear your story."</p> - -<p>He sat down again and looked at the fire, while Ruth related all that -had happened, and how Geoffrey and she had made up their minds to -discover the truth. Mr. Cass listened without a word. Only when she had -finished did he make an observation.</p> - -<p>"You have done wrong," he said, sternly. "You should have told me all -this at once. I am the best friend that Neil Webster has, and it was my -place to look after him, not Heron's."</p> - -<p>"But is Mrs. Jenner innocent?" Ruth asked, anxiously.</p> - -<p>"I cannot answer that question," he said, evasively, but he clenched -his fist. "At all events I will see Heron and Neil, and hear what -grounds they have for believing that she did not kill the unhappy man. -I can only hope, Ruth, that you will refrain from meddling in the -matter any more."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I have done with it, papa. I'm sorry if you think I have behaved -badly; but I thought I was acting for the best. You can depend upon my -doing nothing more. The matter is in Geoffrey's hands now."</p> - -<p>"And it will soon be in mine," her father said, coldly. "If Mrs. Jenner -is to be released I am the person to see to it."</p> - -<p>Ruth noticed that he did not say "If Mrs. Jenner is guiltless," and -her heart was like lead. She made up her mind to try the effect of the -link, and, rising as if to go, drew it from her pocket.</p> - -<p>"I will go to bed now," she said, quietly. "By the way, here is -something of yours," and she placed the piece of gold before him. "Yes, -it is mine," he said, glancing at it. "I gave it to Mildred for her -doll. How did it come into your possession?"</p> - -<p>She burst into teats. The strain was getting too much for her. "Oh, -papa, say it is not yours," she wept, stretching out her hands.</p> - -<p>"Ruth, you are hysterical," Mr. Cass said, with some severity; and the -girl noticed even then that he was a trifle nervous. "Why should I deny -that it is mine? I had a set of these links made many years ago when -I was foolish enough to wear such things. One pair I lost, the other -remained in my desk amongst a lot of rubbish, until one day I gave one -piece of it to Mildred. I had intended to have the other pair replaced, -but time went on, and somehow I never had it done. Why should you cry -about these things, and why do you shew me this link?"</p> - -<p>"Because I found one oval like this under the window of the Turnpike -House."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass rose from his chair and looked at her with a frown. "Go on," -he said.</p> - -<p>"I have nothing more to say," she cried with a fresh burst of tears. "I -know now that the links did belong to you. How did you lose the one at -the Turnpike House? The blow--"</p> - -<p>"Was struck through the window, you would say," her father finished, -with a cold smile, "and that I struck it!"</p> - -<p>"No, no!" she cried. "I am sure you did not. Oh, I am sure you did not, -father. But ever since I have found these links I have been in terror -for you. What if the one I gave Geoffrey should be traced? Oh, I wished -I had kept it myself?"</p> - -<p>"It is too late to wish anything now," he said, bitterly, but very -quietly. "I must say you are a dutiful daughter. I suppose you really -mean to accuse me of having murdered Jenner?"</p> - -<p>"I do not--I do not. I am sure you never did. You can explain."</p> - -<p>"I explain nothing," he interrupted, sternly. "The links are mine. -Whether I dropped a portion of one at the Turnpike House or not does -not matter to you. I will see Heron and explain to him. All I ask of -you is to hold your tongue."</p> - -<p>"I will, I will," sobbed the girl. "But, oh, father, don't be hard on -me. I'm very sorry that I meddled at all."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass looked at her in silence, and his stern face softened. "I know -you do not credit me with this crime," he said, "and I am glad you have -so much grace. But even to you I cannot explain. You must trust me."</p> - -<p>"I do. Whom should I trust but my own dear father?"</p> - -<p>"I wish you had thought of that before, and had not acted in this -underhand way. However, it is of no use talking now. The thing is done -and I must put it to rights as best I can. I will see Heron and Webster. -Put all these things out of your mind, child."</p> - -<p>"How can I until I know the truth?" she said, passionately. "I am sure -you are innocent, but I am certain, too, that it was not Mrs. Jenner -who committed the murder. For Neil's sake, for my own sake, I want the -horrible thing explained."</p> - -<p>"Whether it will be explained or not does not rest with you or with me, -my dear girl. I cannot say to you what I should wish to say. All I can -advise you is to hold your tongue. If you do not Heaven knows what will -happen!"</p> - -<p>"I will say nothing," she said, faintly, and staggered towards the -door. Her father had not insisted upon his innocence as she had -expected him to do; he had taken refuge in vague phrases which meant -nothing. Yet she could not believe--she thrust the thought away from -her. "I will go. I will say no more," she repeated.</p> - -<p>"Ruth," he cried as she opened the door, "one thing I must tell you. -You have either done great good or great harm. But, in either case, you -have brought sorrow to this house."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h4> -<h5>JENNIE BRAWN MAKES A DISCOVERY.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The next day Mr. Cass informed Ruth that Geoffrey Heron was coming to -spend a few days at Hollyoaks. He made no attempt to conceal his reason -for asking the young man.</p> - -<p>"It is necessary," he said, "that I should talk over this deplorable -matter with him. Anything further that has to be done in connection -with the possible release of Mrs. Jenner must be done through me. I am -her oldest friend; I am her son's best friend; and I have a right to -bring the matter to a creditable issue. Do you not agree with me?" He -looked at her keenly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, papa, I do," she replied, feeling more at ease in her mind now -that she saw he did not shirk the investigation. "I only wish I had -told I you before. But you must do me the justice to own that I never -expected to find you in any way connected with it."</p> - -<p>"The wonder is that you did not find me mixed up in it earlier," he -said. "I have had so much to do with Mrs. Jenner and her son that -I could hardly help being concerned in their trouble. But you need -not worry about me, child. I am quite able to protect myself and to -explain, when the time comes, how that broken link came to be lost."</p> - -<p>"If you will only do that----"</p> - -<p>"Ruth, is it possible that you believe your father guilty of this -crime?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, I do not; but----"</p> - -<p>He turned away. "Well, say no more about it," he said, in a softer -tone than was usual with him, for he saw that the girl was terribly -troubled. "There is, on the face of it, some ground for you to doubt -me. I do not for a moment deny that such is the case. But I hope to -right myself in your eyes. Still, you must give me time to consider the -matter."</p> - -<p>"You are not angry with me, then?" she asked, anxiously. "I am -displeased that you should have undertaken this investigation without -telling me your intention. But I can forgive you, for I know how -impulsive you are. Let us say no more about it. My task is to get at -the truth of this matter; and with Geoffrey's assistance I hope to -do so. All I ask is that you should be silent and leave things in my -hands. And never conceal anything from me again."</p> - -<p>"I will do all you say," replied his daughter, and kissed him.</p> - -<p>In due time Geoffrey arrived. He was in high spirits and brought the -best of news from Bognor. Neil was mending rapidly and would soon be on -his feet again. Since he had found a friend and brother in Geoffrey he -had become much less morbid, and was beginning to take quite a cheerful -view of life. If his mother could only be proved innocent and set at -liberty he would have little left to wish for. As for Ruth, his love -for her had by some strange mental process been obliterated during his -illness, and he rose from his sick-bed with nothing more than a strong -feeling of friendship for the girl who had so recently been all the -world to him. And, indeed, when Miss Cass came to hear of this she was -not over well pleased. But it was not long before she blamed herself -for her vanity, and reminded herself that this was quite the best thing -that could have happened to her former lover.</p> - -<p>After dinner Mr. Cass carried Geoffrey off to the library; he -particularly wanted to have a few words alone with him, he said. Heron -had not the least idea what the subject of their talk was to be, Mr. -Cass having merely invited him to spend a few days at Hollyoaks, saying -he had an important subject to discuss with him. And it had passed -through Geoffrey's mind that Ruth must have confided in her father -their tacit engagement. He was a good deal astonished, therefore, when -Mr. Cass abruptly informed him that the matter referred to was that of -the Jenner murder.</p> - -<p>"Why, Mr. Cass!" exclaimed the young man. "How do you know about that? -And what do you know?"</p> - -<p>"Ruth told me that you were interesting yourself in it," was the reply, -"and I know all that she could tell me. I was not very pleased to find -that she had been getting mixed up in the affair."</p> - -<p>"It was her own wish," Heron said. "I did not like it myself, and I -should have been the last person in the world to tell her anything -about it. But, after all, it was but the curiosity of a young girl. No -one can blame her."</p> - -<p>"No one can blame any woman for being curious," Mr. Cass said, drily. -"All the same, feminine curiosity can do a lot of mischief when it is -not properly directed--as in this instance. Will you please to tell -me, Heron, exactly how Ruth found it out?"</p> - -<p>Not knowing that Mr. Cass wished to compare his story with Ruth's, -Geoffrey willingly consented, and informed him of Ruth's visit to Mrs. -Jent, and how the outcome of it all, so far as he was concerned, had -been his discovery of the fact that Ruth was willing to marry him. "And -that is, after all, what I care most about," he said, with a happy look -in his eyes.</p> - -<p>"I am very glad of it," Mr. Cass said, soberly. "I always wanted her to -marry you; I think you will be able to control her. I was afraid at one -time that she would have run away with Webster."</p> - -<p>"I don't think that he would have run away with her," replied Geoffrey. -"He decided to give her up when he learnt the secret of his parentage. -Now he has got over his love, and is quite willing that she should -marry me. Poor Neil! He has had a bad time."</p> - -<p>"That could not have been prevented. I did my best to spare him the -knowledge of his mother's fate. She asked me to make her the promise, -and I did so.</p> - -<p>"Do you think she is guilty?</p> - -<p>"I really can't say," replied Mr. Cass with some hesitation. "When she -was arrested I implored her to defend herself if she could. But she -obstinately refused to open her mouth. She certainly never told me that -Neil had killed his father."</p> - -<p>"Do you believe he did?"</p> - -<p>"No, certainly not. I believe the child got up -from his bed in a dazed condition on suddenly waking out of the trance. -He came into the room and found his father lying dead with the knife on -the floor beside him. Naturally enough the child picked up the knife. -Then, no doubt, his reason became unsettled, added to which the cold to -which he was exposed that night when his mother fled, was altogether -too much for him, and he fell seriously ill."</p> - -<p>"He remembers nothing of all that," Heron said. "I asked him myself. He -remembers his childhood up to the time his mother put him to bed that -night, or rather, I should say, up to the time when he struck at his -father with the knife. His memory re-commences from the time of his -recovery from the illness which followed, but the interval is a blank. -Of course, he might have seen the assassin. But I am sure," continued -Heron, firmly, "that his mother is not the guilty person. She denies -having committed the murder, and says she was silent on Neil's account."</p> - -<p>"Does she suspect anyone?" asked Mr. Cass; and Heron noticed that he -did not give an opinion as to her guilt or innocence.</p> - -<p>"No, she cannot think who did it. I asked her about the links, or -rather about the part of one which Ruth found under the window. I -suppose, she told you of her discovery?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, she did. By the way, have you the link with you?" Heron took it -out of his pocket-book and laid it on the table. "It is a curious one," -he said. "The pattern is an odd one and not in very good taste."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't know," Mr. Cass said, with studied carelessness. "I have -seen the same kind of thing. They were in vogue some years ago. Each -oval has a different design on it--a ballet girl, a bottle, a horse, -and a pack of cards. They were known as the 'four vices.' What does -Mrs. Jenner say about this?"</p> - -<p>"She cannot think who can have worn them; she says she never saw such a -set before."</p> - -<p>Had Geoffrey Heron been an observant man he would have seen a distinct -expression of relief pass over the face of his host; but he remarked -nothing, and Mr. Cass went on.</p> - -<p>"It is possible the person who killed Jenner may have dropped it," he -said. "But I am afraid it is but a slight clue after all these years. -Besides, if Mrs. Jenner cannot guess the motive for the crime, I don't -see how we can."</p> - -<p>"She thinks the motive was fear of blackmail on the part of the -assassin," said Geoffrey.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said the merchant, significantly. "I am not astonished. Jenner -was a clerk in my office, and as thorough a blackguard as ever walked. -He was exactly the man who would have blackmailed another if he could -have done so with safety. But what reason has Mrs. Jenner for thinking -this?"</p> - -<p>"Because her husband had boasted to her that in a red pocket-book which -he flourished in her face he had the materials for getting money. Now, -that pocket-book was not produced at the trial."</p> - -<p>"I see," said Mr. Cass, his chin on his hand. "You think the murderer -stabbed Jenner as he stood by the window, stole the pocket-book, and -had his link wrenched off in the struggle?"</p> - -<p>"That is the only way in which I can account for the crime."</p> - -<p>"It seems feasible enough," replied the merchant, musingly. "But I -do not see how I can help you to trace the man. After Jenner left my -office I saw very little of him. If Mrs. Jenner cannot tell whom it was -he intended to blackmail no one else can."</p> - -<p>"She does not know, Mr. Cass. Her husband gave her no hint. All he said -was that he could make money out of what he had in that pocket-book. -She held her tongue, as you know, for her son's sake; now she sees that -it was wrong. But she did it for the best.</p> - -<p>"I suppose she did," said Mr. Cass, giving the link back to Heron. "But -I wish she had spoken out when I asked her. I could not induce her to -be frank. She merely declared that she was prepared to suffer. Well," -Mr. Cass rose to his feet, "I don't think there is anything more to be -said, Heron."</p> - -<p>"But how are we to continue the search?"</p> - -<p>"Leave it in my hands for the moment. I will see Mrs. Jenner, and -between the two of us, seeing we knew Jenner better than anyone else, -we may find out who it was he intended to blackmail. If that should -fail, I really don't know what to suggest.</p> - -<p>"Well, I will wait till you have seen her," Geoffrey said, and went off -to bed.</p> - -<p>He rose early, and was out walking up and down the terrace before -breakfast. Ruth was not down, but he could see Jennie Brawn playing -with little George Chisel and Ethel. Mildred was not visible, but in a -few minutes he found her seated in a disconsolate attitude on the steps.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter?" he asked, for he was fond of children.</p> - -<p>"It's Aunt Ruth," said the child, tearfully. "She won't give me back my -doll's brooch."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'll ask her to give it back. What is it like?" He asked the -question carelessly, little dreaming of what the answer would be, nor -guessing the consequences which would ensue.</p> - -<p>"It's a gold brooch, with a horse on it, a dear little horse."</p> - -<p>Even then it did not enter his mind that the brooch referred to had any -connection with the links of which he had spoken to his host the night, -before.</p> - -<p>"How big was it?" he asked. "If Aunt Ruth won't give it back I'll try -and get you one like it."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I think grandfather will give me another," Mildred said, hopefully. -"He gave me this. It is this size," she drew a small oval in the dust -with her finger, "and that shape, with a horse on it in pretty colours, -and a little thing on the back to put a thread through so that my -doll can wear it. It is so pretty." Heron felt as if he had received -a blow. For was not the child describing, with the exception of the -design, the broken link he had in his pocket? And she had got it from -her grandfather! Without a word he took the link out of his pocket and -shewed it to the child. She pounced on it with a scream of delight.</p> - -<p>"Why, that's my brooch!" she cried. And then on a nearer view: "No, it -isn't. Here's a nasty bottle! Mine had a horse on it."</p> - -<p>The young man remembered the description given by Mr. Cass of the links -known as the "four vices," and he could no longer refuse to believe -that it was he who had given Mildred the link which matched the one now -in her hands. And that link had been found under the window of the very -room in which the crime had been committed! "Could it be possible---- -No! No!" cried Geoffrey, staggering back, his ruddy face pale. "It -cannot be!"</p> - -<p>"What is the matter, Mr. Heron? Are you ill?" asked the child, rising.</p> - -<p>"No, I am not ill, dear. But give me back my brooch."</p> - -<p>"I don't like it," she said, thrusting it into his hand. "A nasty -bottle! Mine with the horse was much nicer. I'll ask grandfather to -give me another. Now I'm going to play, Mr. Heron, do ask Aunt Ruth to -give me back my dear little brooch."</p> - -<p>The prattle of the child worried him terribly. "Yes, yes," he said, -impatiently; "but run away and play now, dear." And as Mildred -scampered off "Great Heavens!" he thought. "Can Cass have murdered the -man? Impossible! He could have had no motive."</p> - -<p>He was thankful to be alone, for he felt that in his present state of -mind he could speak to no one. Therefore, still thinking of the new -discovery he had made he felt annoyed to see Jennie Brawn leave the -children and come towards him. He would have escaped her by walking -off, but she called to him, and he had, perforce, to remain. She looked -anxious and worried.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Heron, I wish to speak to you particularly," she said. "I am so -glad to find you alone. You look ill."</p> - -<p>"I have had rather a shock, but really I am all right," he said, with -an attempt at a smile. "What is it, Miss Brawn?"</p> - -<p>"Well," she said, "it is a somewhat curious story. You know Ruth -brought back with her a toy horse which she put into a drawer in her -bedroom. She gave the children permission to open the drawer, and -there they found the horse, George took possession of it and hid it -away. Well, he produced the animal the other day; pulled it out of its -hiding-place and proceeded to cut it open-to see what was the matter -with it he said: I was in the room and watched him without paying much -attention. If I had had my wits about me I should have recognised -Ruth's horse and would not have allowed him to touch it. But, however, -he did so and pulled out all the stuffing. I saw that he was making -a mess on the carpet and went to stop him. Then I found among the -stuffing a paper with your name on it. I waited for an opportunity of -giving it to you, and here it is." And Jennie put into his hand a bill -of exchange, old, discoloured and crumpled.</p> - -<p>Hardly knowing what he was doing Heron glanced at the document and saw -that his father's signature--Geoffrey Heron--was written across the -bill, while the signature at the foot was that of Frank Marshall.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h4> -<h5>HERON FOLLOWS THE TRAIL.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Ruth could not rid herself of a haunting doubt that her father knew -more of the Jenner murder than he chose to confess. If he himself had -not killed the man in a fit of impetuous rage--and the girl could not -bring herself to think this--he knew who had struck the fatal blow. -Ruth was certain now that Mrs. Jenner was innocent, notwithstanding -the fact that she had been found guilty. This being so, she argued to -herself that if her father were aware of the truth he should at once -take steps to remedy the grave miscarriage of justice which had taken -place. But as he made no move, Ruth, perplexed and doubtful, became -quite ill with suspense. It was no wonder then that Geoffrey had found -her poor company, and had failed to understand her constant melancholy. -Under these circumstances he had taken his departure, wondering what -had befallen the house which had formerly been so bright and pleasant. -But no satisfaction was to be had either from Mr. Cass or from his -daughter.</p> - -<p>On arriving at his own place he went at once to the library to look -for some document with his father's signature in order to compare it -with that on the bill. And after a close inspection of some half-dozen -autographs of the late Mr. Heron, he came to the conclusion that the -signature to the bill was a forgery. Once convinced of this, he began -to see daylight, and argued out the case that evening, alone and -undisturbed.</p> - -<p>"Jenner was at one time a clerk in the firm of Cass and Marshall," -he thought; "therefore he must have known Marshall very well; he was -dismissed, and so had no cause to love his employers. Mr. Cass, so -far as I know, was always an upright man, and Jenner had no chance of -injuring him in any way. With Marshall the case was different. If I -remember rightly, Mrs. Jenner told me that her husband and Marshall -were as thick as thieves; the master patronising the clerk on account -of the man's beautiful voice and musical accomplishments. Marshall, -too, lived a gay life, and was given to spending pretty freely. It is -quite possible that he might have made use of Jenner as a tool to get -more money through this bill! Five hundred pounds," said Geoffrey, -looking at the document in question. "Humph! Just the sum he might -require for an emergency." He turned over the bill, and found it -endorsed by Julius Roper. "Ah!" he went on, "where have I heard that -name? Roper--Roper--I am sure someone spoke of Roper."</p> - -<p>Suddenly it flashed into his mind that Roper was the moneylender in -whose employment Jenner had been after he had failed on the stage.</p> - -<p>"The bill was discounted in the office in which Jenner was employed," -he thought, with growing excitement, for the matter was becoming more -interesting every minute, "and Jenner, knowing it was forged, stole -it from Roper. He meant to use it as a means of extorting blackmail! -Ah!" He stopped short. "Blackmail? It was of that he boasted to his -wife--this, then, was the material for getting money that he said he -had in the red pocket-book. The pocket-book has disappeared; but the -bill?--Humph! How did it get inside the horse? Could Jenner himself -have put it there? If so, why? What was his reason? I must see Mrs. -Jenner and ask her. Between the two of us we may get at the truth."</p> - -<p>But although he was satisfied that his father's signature had been -forged, he could not be absolutely certain that Marshall had been the -forger. He had drawn the bill, it was true, but Jenner might have -counterfeited the signature and have assisted Marshall to get the money.</p> - -<p>Then Geoffrey recollected that his father--a particularly precise -man--had been in the habit of keeping a diary in which he was -accustomed to set down the most trivial details of his somewhat -uninteresting life. No sooner had this thought struck him than he went -to a certain press and pulled out the series of little books which -contained these entries. Glancing at the date of the bill, he set to -work, and after an hour's search found the evidence.</p> - -<p>The late Mr. Heron had made no attempt to conceal Marshall's rascality; -for it was plainly set down that a certain Mr. Roper had called upon -him to shew a bill of exchange and to ask if the signature were his. -Mr. Heron had replied that he had never signed a bill in his life, -where upon Roper had intimated that the bill had been presented by -Frank Marshall, and that the money had been paid to him. Roper had also -expressed his intention of having Marshall arrested, but to this Mr. -Heron had objected. Bad as he thought the man, he wanted to avoid any -serious trouble, less for Marshall's own sake than for that of Miss -Inez Cass, to whom he was engaged, and who was deeply in love with him. -Roper had left the house with the avowed intention of making things hot -for him, so Mr. Heron had called on Marshall at his house near Hollyoak -and told him what had happened. Then Marshall had confessed that, being -in want of money, he had forged Mr. Heron's name. But he stated that he -was going to pay the money back to Roper very shortly, and he implored -Mr. Heron to take no steps against him; it would break Miss Cass's -heart, he said, and Mr. Heron, pitying Inez, and having a great respect -for her brother, had promised to say no more about it, and had agreed -to refrain from assisting Roper on condition that the five hundred -pounds were repaid. This--as a later entry in the diary-proved--had -been done. After that there was no further mention of the matter.</p> - -<p>"Well," Geoffrey said to himself, as he put away the books, "all -this is quite plain. It seems that Mr. Frank Marshall is a pretty -scoundrel! Oh, there is no doubt that this bill is the blackmailing -document referred to by Jenner. Now, I wonder if Marshall murdered him -to get possession of it; but if he did the bill would not have been -concealed in the toy horse. Ah! no doubt Marshall thought it was in the -red pocket-book, and stole that after he had killed him; that was why -the pocket-book disappeared. Probably Marshall himself destroyed it. -Humph! I have gone so far with very good results; now, before I can -proceed further, I must see Mrs. Jenner and Roper. I wonder if that -scoundrel is still alive?"</p> - -<p>Next day Geoffrey paid a visit to the gaol where Mrs. Jenner was -serving her life sentence. After some difficulty he was permitted to -see the prisoner; indeed, he might not have procured the interview at -all had he not told the governor that he saw a good chance of proving -the woman innocent. The governor was a humane man, and, anxious that -justice should be done, he stretched a point and allowed Heron to see -her with as much privacy as was compatible with prison discipline.</p> - -<p>As soon as they were alone. Heron related all that he had discovered, -and then proceeded to ask his questions. Mrs. Jenner, poor woman, -became much excited, and small wonder, seeing, that for the first time, -she saw a chance of regaining her freedom.</p> - -<p>"But, after all, it will be to die, Mr. Heron," she said, sadly. "I am -very ill; trouble, exposure and mental worry have been too much for -me. The doctor saw me two days ago, and has ordered my removal to the -Infirmary." Geoffrey looked at her, and, true enough, there was death -in her face. A few weeks were all of life left to her now. And yet on -hearing Geoffrey's news, the bold spirit flamed up again in her for the -last time.</p> - -<p>"I am sure you are right, Mr. Heron!" she said, feverishly. "Mr. -Marshall is the guilty person. He was always a scamp and a rake. There -is no doubt that it was for the purpose of blackmailing him that my -husband came down to Westham on the night he was murdered; in fact, he -said as much to me at the Turnpike House. Do you know that he had met -Marshall on that very night?"</p> - -<p>"No; you did not tell me that."</p> - -<p>"I forgot; besides, I really did not think it mattered. I did not -expect that Mr. Marshall would be brought into the affair. He was -always cunning enough to look after himself. At that time he was -engaged to marry Miss Cass, and she loved him with the fierceness of a -tigress."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean the present Mrs. Marshal?"</p> - -<p>"Who else should I mean? She always loved him. He had a strange -fascination for women: why, I don't know, for he was not particularly -good-looking or attractive. But Miss Inez loved him, and it was within -two months of the murder that they were married. I was in prison then, -as I am now, and under sentence of death."</p> - -<p>"Then you think that Marshall killed your husband?"</p> - -<p>"I do," she said, with a look of hatred in her large blue eyes. "I feel -certain of it. Look at the motive he had! He was engaged to marry Miss -Inez Cass: she was rich and he needed money; then again there was some -talk of his leaving the firm. I believe myself that Mr. Cass was quite -tired of the way he was going on."</p> - -<p>"I wonder that Mr. Cass--knowing him as he did--did not forbid the -marriage."</p> - -<p>"What would have been the use? His sister was her own mistress; she -had her own money--a large fortune--and she was madly in love with -Marshall. She would have done anything for him; she simply grovelled at -his feet. Her infatuation was the talk of all Westham at the time I was -starving at the Turnpike House.'</p> - -<p>"Extraordinary!" mused Geoffrey. "She is so masterful a woman that I -wonder she could have fallen in love with so weak a man."</p> - -<p>"It is one of those things in which a woman's nature is stronger than -her principles," said Mrs. Jenner. "Besides, he was fascinating, and -she was no longer a young woman," she added, with a touch of feminine -spite. "At any rate, she was delighted when he fell in love with her, -and determined not to let him go."</p> - -<p>"Was he in love with her?"</p> - -<p>"No: perhaps I was wrong to put it that way. No doubt he wanted her -money. Did he leave the firm?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; shortly after his marriage."</p> - -<p>"Ah! Then depend upon it, Mr. Cass got rid of him. He married Miss -Cass for her money--he must have been in great straits when he -committed that forgery. Oh, I quite believe it was he who did it: -he was wonderfully clever at imitating handwriting. I knew of that -accomplishment long before I was married."</p> - -<p>"How you hate him!" Geoffrey could not help exclaiming.</p> - -<p>"I am a very good hater," she said, quietly; "and I have every reason -to hate that man. It was he who got my husband dismissed, and it was -certainly he who led him into dissipated ways; for Jenner was not a -bad man during the early years of our married life. It was only when -he came under Marshall's influence that he took to drink and began to -treat me cruelly. Oh, I know what I owe him only too well! I should -like to see him arrested for this murder, and hanged--hanged!"</p> - -<p>She spoke with such vehemence that Heron shivered. "I hope he will be -proved innocent for all that," he said. "Remember I am engaged to his -niece."</p> - -<p>"Miss Ruth is not his niece save by marriage."</p> - -<p>"Still, the disgrace----"</p> - -<p>"Well, leave the matter alone," said Mrs. Jenner, abruptly. "I have -suffered so much that a little, more or less, does not matter. When I I -am gone, there will be an end of all your trouble. Let Marshall live to -repent, if he can. I am willing to die with the disgrace on me; I can't -well be worse off than I am. And my son will soon forget me----"</p> - -<p>"You do him wrong, Mrs. Jenner; he loves you dearly. But, let this -be as it may, what I have to do is to get at the truth of it all. If -Marshall will confess his guilt, I will consult with Mr. Cass and see -what is to be done. I confess, that on Ruth's account, I do not want a -scandal."</p> - -<p>"Would you desert her?"</p> - -<p>"No, for I love her. And I am too just, I hope, to visit the sins of -other people upon her innocent head."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Jenner seemed to be considering; then, "Mr. Heron," she said at -last, "you are a good man. Leave the matter where it stands, and let me -die a guilty woman in the eyes of the world. If I were in good health, -I might speak differently but I am dying. Let me die. I have suffered -so much, that now I could not even enjoy freedom. There is no rest for -me but in the grave. Believe me, it is better to leave things as they -are."</p> - -<p>"Well, we'll see about that. But tell me, how did the bill get inside -the toy horse?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, that is difficult to explain! The horse belonged to my boy; he was -playing with it before the fire on that evening. I left it there when -I took the child to bed. It is likely enough," she went on, musingly, -"that my husband, knowing he had driven Marshall into a corner, was -afraid he might lose this bill. He may have sewn it up inside the horse -when I was out of the room. He knew very well that I kept all my boy's -toys, and he thought it would be safe there. No one would ever have -dreamt of looking for it in such a hiding-place. It is really most -wonderful, when one comes to think of it, that it has come to light at -all."</p> - -<p>"Can you tell me where Jenner met Marshall on that night?"</p> - -<p>"No, I cannot. All I know is what he told me--that he had seen him two -hours before he came to see me. He boasted of his blackmailing. That is -all I can tell you."</p> - -<p>Geoffrey rose. "Well, you have given me some information, if not very -much," he said. "Now I will go and see Roper to make certain how the -bill came to be stolen."</p> - -<p>"My husband stole it when he was with Roper," said Mrs. Jenner. And -with this last piece of information Geoffrey departed to follow up the -clue.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE MONEY-LENDER.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Mr. Julian Roper had an establishment in Golden-square, Soho. Although -this gentleman was over eighty, he had not yet repented of his many -iniquities, but callously continued to conduct his evil transactions. -His offices--two dingy rooms--were on the ground floor of the house; -the apartments overhead being occupied by himself and a crabbed old -woman who acted as his housekeeper. The hag was, if possible, worse -than her master; and from long years of association, she possessed -considerable influence over him; she was a widow--or at least it was -as such that she described herself--for her husband had left her many -years before in sheer disgust at her tyranny. Mrs. Hutt was her name; -and she had a son who acted as clerk to Julian.</p> - -<p>When Geoffrey Heron arrived at this sordid temple of Mammon, he was -received by the drudge--a young-old person of no particular age, -dressed in a suit of rusty black. He informed the visitor that his -master was absent.</p> - -<p>The clerk, who answered to the name of Jerry Hutt, gave Mr. Heron a -broken-backed chair, and returned to his desk, which was smuggled -away into a corner. With a shrug at the poverty of the place and the -apparently enfeebled intellect of the person in charge, the young man -took a seat and amused himself by taking stock of his surroundings.</p> - -<p>Jerry took not the slightest notice of Geoffrey after the first -greeting; he wrote hard with his tongue thrust into his cheek, giving -vent at times to a faint chuckle which was positively uncanny. Coming -to the conclusion that he was half-witted, Heron came to regard him in -the light in which most people saw him--more as an article of furniture -than a man. But in this he, in common with the rest of the visitors to -that den, was wrong. For underneath his assumed stupidity Jerry was as -sharp as the proverbial needle.</p> - -<p>Luckily Heron had not long to wait. In about a quarter of an hour -Jerry raised his big head and looked out of the window; a shuffling -step was heard at the door; and a minute later someone came coughing -and grumbling along the narrow passage. "Mr. Roper," chuckled Jerry, -pointing towards the inner room. "Go in there."</p> - -<p>Geoffrey, taking no notice of his brusque manner, passed into the back -room; it was better lighted and better furnished than the clerk's den. -Still, it was sordid enough, and so dirty that the young squire found -it necessary to dust with his handkerchief the seat he had chosen. -"Cleanliness and godliness are both absent from this establishment," -thought Mr. Heron.</p> - -<p>He could hear Roper outside growling at Jerry, but could catch nothing -of their conversation. He guessed that it had to do with himself, for -shortly Mr. Roper entered the back room with what was meant to be an -amiable smile on his mahogany face. In appearance he was the double of -his clerk, as thin, as yellow, and even smaller in stature.</p> - -<p>"Ha! Hey!" he said; this being the way in which he was accustomed to -begin a conversation. "Mr. Heron--ah, yes--Mr. Geoffrey Heron--quite -so! I knew your father. A good man, Mr. Heron, but strong in his -expressions."</p> - -<p>Geoffrey took this to mean--and very rightly too--that his father -had expressed himself in no measured terms as to the moneylender's -professional transactions. But he made no comment, merely remarking -that he had come to see Mr. Roper on business.</p> - -<p>"Ha! Hey!" chuckled the old man, shuffling towards his desk with the -aid of a heavy stick. "Quite so. Not like your father! Oh, dear, no! He -never borrowed money."</p> - -<p>"I am not here for that purpose," retorted Mr. Heron, haughtily, and -the old man, panting for breath, dropped into his chair. "And I can -assure you that you are the last person to whom I should come in such -circumstances. My business is quite of a different nature."</p> - -<p>"Ha! Then why do you come here, Mr. Heron? I have much to do; I am -poor, and money is hard to make. If your business has nothing to do -with money, why come at all?"</p> - -<p>"Because you are the only person who can assist me?"</p> - -<p>"I do nothing for nothing," croaked Mr. Roper, quickly. "If you want -anything out of me, you must pay me--pay me--cash down, you understand! -I have had enough of bills."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Frank Marshall's bill for five hundred included?" asked Geoffrey.</p> - -<p>The man started and plucked at his nether lip. "Ha! Hey! What do you -know about Mr. Marshall, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Not so much as you can tell me," said Heron, significantly.</p> - -<p>"Marshall--Marshall," muttered Roper. "I don't know him--never heard of -him."</p> - -<p>Geoffrey took a new tack and prepared to go. "In that case, I need not -trouble you. My business has to do with Marshall and a forgery."</p> - -<p>"Wait. Come now, don't hurry!" screeched the old man, clawing at -Heron's frock-coat. "I do begin to remember something of this. I am -old--I can't remember as well as I did. Marshall--Frank Marshall--Cass -and Marshall. Yes, yes, of course I know! A forgery--your father--quite -so!" He stopped and looked up sharply. "Well, what is it?" he asked.</p> - -<p>Geoffrey sat down again. He was beginning to see his way to the -successful management of this old gentleman. "It is a long story," he -said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the avaricious face of the -usurer. "Let me begin at the beginning. What about a man called Jenner?"</p> - -<p>Roper gave another screech, and was visibly startled. He cast a swift -glance at the door behind which, no doubt, the useful Jerry was -eavesdropping. "Jenner," he said, recovering himself with an effort, -"was a clerk of mine, and a blackguard."</p> - -<p>"The one implies the other," Heron said, drily, "if all I have heard of -you is true."</p> - -<p>"Now, sir, don't you come libelling me," whimpered the usurer, still -disturbed. "I won't have it. I will bring an action for damages--heavy -damages."</p> - -<p>"Do, Mr. Roper. I should like to see you shewn up in court. How many of -your transactions will bear the scrutiny of the law?"</p> - -<p>"I have never broken the law," he roared, with an attempt at dignity -which ill became him. "I am a poor man, but honest. Jenner? Oh, yes he -was murdered, and he deserved to be murdered--the beast!"</p> - -<p>"Who did it?" asked Geoffrey, abruptly.</p> - -<p>For the second time Mr. Roper was visibly disconcerted. "How should I -know any more than yourself?" he quavered. "His wife murdered him, of -course; he treated her badly, and she served him out. Women always do."</p> - -<p>"Come, Mr. Roper, you are evading my questions. But I have no time to -play the fool. I have come to talk to you about that forged bill."</p> - -<p>"Have you got it--have you got it?" he shrieked, making a dart with one -claw at Geoffrey. "Oh, give it to me, if you can! I want to see that -Marshall in gaol--with hard labour--hard labour!" he repeated, with -evident relish. "My dear gentleman, if you can, help me to crush him!"</p> - -<p>"Why?" asked the young man, drawing back.</p> - -<p>"Because I hate him. I had a daughter; she loved him; but he would not -marry her--oh, dear, no! Her father's reputation was too bad for so -fine a gentleman. So she died--pined away. Mr. Heron, as I am a sinner! -Oh how Jerry felt it! He admired Elsa, he loved her--so did Marshall." -His eyes flashed. "But he would not marry her, for all that. She is -dead and buried now--a most expensive tomb!" he added, vaguely. "All -marble--most costly. But she was my daughter: I hate to spend good -money; but Elsa was my daughter--a most expensive tomb!"</p> - -<p>His listener took all this for the senile babble of age. Perhaps it -was, for tears stood in the usurer's eyes--those hard eyes which had -remained dry whilst looking upon much deliberately-created misery. He -wiped them now with snuffy red bandana, and then looked fiercely at his -client.</p> - -<p>"Come," he said, roughly, with a growl as of a beast about to spring. -"What about Marshall!"</p> - -<p>Geoffrey said nothing for the moment, but stared fixedly at the -moneylender.</p> - -<p>"Ha! Hey!" said Roper, impatiently, and there was a yellow gleam in -his eyes. "I am waiting. What about Marshall?"</p> - -<p>"I would rather ask you what about Jenner?"</p> - -<p>"I do nothing for nothing, as I have told you," was the reply. "If -you could assist me to punish that wretch, I might perhaps help you; -otherwise----"</p> - -<p>"Well, I may be able to help you in that!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, oh!" said the old man. "And what grudge have you against Marshall?"</p> - -<p>"I have none but I have a very good reason for acting as I am doing."</p> - -<p>"What is your reason?"</p> - -<p>"That I refuse to tell you. Speak freely to me, or leave the matter -alone, my good man. I can do without your assistance."</p> - -<p>"No, no!" cried the usurer, with frightful energy. "If Marshall is to -get into trouble, I am the man to assist. He broke my Elsa's heart; I -wish to be revenged. What is it you want to know?"</p> - -<p>"Tell me about Jenner," Heron said, curtly. He saw that the old man, -moved by the recollection of Marshall's behaviour to his daughter, was -in the mood to be confidential. He would get all he could out of him -before the wind changed.</p> - -<p>Roper commenced speaking in a hurry as though in fear that his -resolution would fail him. "Jenner was a wretch--a scamp!" he said. "He -was in my employment before Jerry grew up to assist me. I took him off -the streets, and he repaid my kindness by robbing me."</p> - -<p>"Of the bill of exchange on which was the forgery of my father's name."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you know that!" he said with a glance of surprise. "Well, I -daresay. Your father--worthy man--would no doubt tell you. Yes, Jenner -took the bill--just when I thought I had Marshall in the palm of my -hand. Ah, that was a blow! I would have given hundreds to have kept -that bill--to have lodged Marshall in gaol. But when that was gone, I -could do nothing. Have you the bill--do you know where it is? Give it -to me. I'll work the matter."</p> - -<p>"I have not the bill," said Geoffrey, deliberately. He saw that the -honour of the Cass family would be lost if entrusted to the hands of -this man. "The bill was stolen from Jenner's dead body," he added, with -studied equivocation.</p> - -<p>"By whom?" Roper asked, abruptly. "Do you not know?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly not," he said, with violence. "Are you about to accuse me of -the crime? Why, I do not even know of the place where he met his death. -You can prove nothing against me, sir, however cleverly you lay your -trap."</p> - -<p>"I am not laying any trap," Geoffrey said, mildly. "I want to know -something more about Jenner--as I have told you at least five times! He -was in your employment, you say?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I took him off the streets! One day Marshall brought that bill; I -discounted it, and gave him five hundred pounds! Then I found out--how, -it does not matter--that your father's signature had been forged. I saw -your father----"</p> - -<p>"I know all about that interview. You saw my father and he refused to -prosecute, did he not?"</p> - -<p>"He did; but I would have prosecuted myself, and would have called your -father as a witness. Well, I came back after that visit, and placed the -bill in my safe then I told my housekeeper all about it: Jenner must -have listened. Shortly afterwards he disappeared; I made a search to -see if he had taken anything. Then I found that the bill had gone--that -Marshall had escaped me! I managed to set the police on Jenner's track, -and he was arrested. I offered not to prosecute if he would give me -back the bill: but he refused. Then I prosecuted him for stealing my -money, and he got three years. When he came out, I believe he went down -to the country to see his wife; and she murdered him. What became of -the bill, I never could discover. He must have destroyed it."</p> - -<p>"It is possible," said Heron. "I suppose that the bill was valuable to -Marshall as well as to you! No doubt he paid Jenner to destroy it."</p> - -<p>"Or else he murdered Jenner to obtain possession of it," the old man -said, gloomily. "But, no! Mrs. Jenner killed him I was at the trial; I -heard all the evidence nothing could have been clearer or fairer. She -killed her husband. Now. I wonder if she could have taken possession of -that bill! No, I don't think so; it would have been found on her when -she was arrested. I believe Marshall must have bribed Jenner to destroy -it; more's the pity. I'll never get at him now, the beast!"</p> - -<p>Geoffrey rose to go. "Well," he said, "I have learnt something; but I -hardly know if it will be of much assistance to me."</p> - -<p>"What are you going to do?" Roper asked.</p> - -<p>"Satisfy my conscience. Listen, Mr. Roper; in my father's diary I found -a full account of your visit and the truth about the forgery. I was -anxious to know all--therefore, I came to you. Now I am satisfied. So -far as I am concerned, the matter shall rest where it is."</p> - -<p>"Then you won't help me to crush Marshall? Will nothing deliver him -into my hands?" he muttered. "I'll make a last effort; he must be -punished for Elsa's sake."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h4> -<h5>JOB BECOMES CIVILISED.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Again and again did Miss Cass wish that she could tell Jennie Brawn the -story of the broken link and her position with regard to her father. -But she had given her promise, and was forced to hold her tongue. On -her part Jennie, always open and honest, felt a trifle embarrassed -at the secret understanding with Geoffrey Heron regarding the bill -of exchange, it seemed to her too delicate perception to be wrong; -for was not the young man her friend's lover? But, like Ruth herself, -Jennie had given a promise which could not be broken, and she, too, -had to hold her peace. Under these circumstances, both girls were less -open with each other than usual, and on this account did not seek one -another, as was formerly the case. Jennie made her teaching serve as an -excuse; and Ruth took to wandering about the country in the society of -her own sad thoughts.</p> - -<p>She had promised her father to refrain from further meddling with the -Jenner case; but she did not think that this bound her to abstain from -visiting the Turnpike House; and she was always finding herself in the -neighbourhood of that ill-omened building. It held the secret of a -crime.</p> - -<p>Several times Ruth had noticed smoke rising from its chimney; she -began to think, from the recurrence of this phenomenon, that some -tramp had taken up his abode in the deserted building. Full of nervous -apprehension lest the said tramp should find something in the house -likely to connect her father with the crime, Ruth had, more than once, -made up her mind to see who it was that occupied the hovel. But on each -occasion her courage failed her at the last moment. But one day she -screwed up her courage, and set out to visit the Turnpike House. She -would [*** ***] if any other piece of evidence connected with the crime -had been discovered; and, if so, ascertain who was the finder.</p> - -<p>As she approached, she could see that although the house still looked -dilapidated and disreputable in its green jungle, some attempt had -been made to render it fit for human habitation. The windows had been -mended, the door repaired, and the roof patched in various places. Ruth -walked boldly up the path--now trodden down by the footsteps of the new -owner--and after a glance at the closed door, looked in at the window. -This was guiltless of blinds or curtain, and she could see quite -plainly what was going on inside. To her surprise, the first person she -saw was her aunt Inez seated by the fire and talking eagerly to Job, -who was astride a chair beside her. The gypsy turned his head rapidly -as the shadow of the girl, lengthened by the sun, fell across the -floor, and he uttered an exclamation of mingled surprise aid vexation. -Mrs. Marshall, looking up at that moment, beheld her niece--the very -last person she expected or, indeed, desired to see in that place. Her -dark face grew a trifle pale, her black eyes flashed, and she looked -downright savage at the intrusion. However, there was nothing left for -it now but to make the best of the situation, so before Ruth had time -to recover from her astonishment, Aunt Inez had passed quickly to the -window and had thrown it wide open.</p> - -<p>"Goodness, Ruth! Why do you come in that silent way to frighten people? -Come in--come in, and don't stand staring there like a fool!"</p> - -<p>Ruth struggled to recover from her surprise.</p> - -<p>"I am astonished to see you here, Aunt Inez," she said, when she had -found her tongue. "I did not know you were acquainted with Job."</p> - -<p>"He is a pensioner of mine," Mrs. Marshall said, composedly, preparing -to shut the window. "Are you coming in, Ruth? We can walk back together. -You know I do not approve of your roaming the country in this -uncivilised fashion."</p> - -<p>"It seems I am only following your example," Ruth said, pertly.</p> - -<p>"I am a married woman."</p> - -<p>"And Job's patroness," remarked Ruth, who was too much annoyed by her -aunt's manner to be careful. Mrs. Marshall flashed at her a look which -boded ill for the harmony of their future relations.</p> - -<p>"Yes; I am looking after the poor man. There is nothing wrong in that, -I hope?"</p> - -<p>"On the contrary," said her niece, and went towards the door. It was -opened by Job, who, during this interview, had been most discreetly -silent. He winked at the girl--not rudely, but to intimate that he -still looked upon her as a Romany sister--and ushered her into the room.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall had resumed her seat by the fire, and pointed out the -other chair to her niece. Job leant up against the table, and regarded -the two with a twinkle in his dark eyes. Evidently he anticipated some -amusement.</p> - -<p>"Have you been here before, Ruth?" asked the elder lady, sharply.</p> - -<p>"Once; I was curious to see the place."</p> - -<p>"On account of the murder, I suppose?" replied Mrs. Marshall, with -contempt. "Really, Ruth, I do wonder that you should care to concern -yourself with such horrors! And why do you come here again?"</p> - -<p>"To see Job," was the quiet answer.</p> - -<p>"Me and the lady are pals," put in Job. "Oh, yes; she can patter the -black tongue, and she is a real Romany sister."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps, Ruth, you will explain," said Mrs. Marshall, both puzzled and -annoyed.</p> - -<p>"I think Job has already done so," Ruth said, coolly. "I met him here -by accident when last I came, and I talked Romany to him. He has taken -me as a sister of the gypsy folk. I am a female Borrow."</p> - -<p>"Ruth!" Aunt Inez threw up her hands in horror. "How dare you speak -like this? A low gypsy--a tramp--and you a young lady! And pray where -did you learn the gypsy language?"</p> - -<p>"At school, and out of it. I got a gypsy woman to teach me. But I do -not see why you should forbid me to associate with Job, aunt. You are -doing so yourself."</p> - -<p>"I!" exclaimed that lady, with something of defiance in her manner. -"But I have taken this poor man under my protection, and I intend to -make him comfortable."</p> - -<p>Ruth did not reply immediately. Then she looked up:</p> - -<p>"Last time I was here you watched me, Aunt Inez," she said, slowly.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps I did--perhaps I did not," replied that lady, coldly. She -scorned to tell a lie, and refused to own the truth.</p> - -<p>"Then you know what I found here--under the window?"</p> - -<p>Job looked up eagerly and exchanged a glance with Mrs. Marshall. But -that clever lady preserved an imperturbable countenance. "What you -found, my dear, is of no consequence to me," she said, impatiently, and -rose to her feet.</p> - -<p>"It is more to the purpose that we should be going. I will arrange -about your weekly money," she said, turning to Job.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, lady," said the gypsy, gratefully. "You are a real good -sort. I won't trouble you long, though. I'm booked before the year is -out."</p> - -<p>Ruth lingered, for she wanted to speak to the man alone; but her aunt -hurried her away, and the last glimpse she had of him was standing in -the doorway laughing in anything but a respectful manner.</p> - -<p>One would have thought that Miss Cass had burnt her fingers quite -severely enough to avoid playing with fire. But such was not the case. -Her curiosity was stronger than her prudence.. Besides, after the smile -she had seen on Job's face she began to doubt her aunt's plausible -explanation. Unfortunately, Mrs. Marshall escorted her niece right up -to the gates of Hollyoaks Park. But she refused to go in.</p> - -<p>"I have left my carriage at the inn," she said, "and, as your uncle is -not very well, I must go home at once. I hope you will come and see us -soon, Ruth; you are neglecting me very much."</p> - -<p>"I will come with pleasure, aunt. Will next week do?"</p> - -<p>"Any week will do. I am always at home--except on an occasion like -this, when I am employed in charitable works. I shall expect you next -week."</p> - -<p>When her aunt had gone, Ruth waited until she was out of sight; then -took a short cut across the meadows to the Turnpike House. Within the -hour she again presented herself at the door. It was opened so suddenly -that she felt sure that Job had been watching her; and his greeting -proved that such was the case.</p> - -<p>"I expected you, sister," he said. "Come into my tent. Duvel! That a -Romany should dwell under a roof-tree like a Gorgio."</p> - -<p>"It is better for your health than wandering about the roads," said the -girl, sitting down.</p> - -<p>"I am dying," interrupted Job, quietly. "And I am not the man to decay -like a tree. If I find that I can never recover, I will die after my -own fashion. I am not afraid."</p> - -<p>Ruth did not know what reply to make to this: she glanced round hoping -to find a fresh topic of conversation. "You are comfortable here; quite -civilised. I am sure that you will get better now that you are so well -housed!"</p> - -<p>"I do not think so, lady. But I yielded to Mrs. Marshall's request to -take shelter here. One place is as good as another to die in; she is -good to me; I have this house--and a little money to buy food."</p> - -<p>"Why is she so kind?" asked Ruth, sharply. "Such kindness is not in her -nature. Have you done her a good turn?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps I have; maybe I have not," Job said, coolly. "See here, sister, -I knew you would come back to ask questions. I saw it in your eye; but -I know when to keep my mouth shut."</p> - -<p>"You do--when it pays you. Well, I have no wish to pry into your -secrets, Job. Keep your own counsel."</p> - -<p>"I intend to," replied the man. "And it is a good thing for your family -that I do."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing that I can tell you."</p> - -<p>"Job"--Ruth looked at him sharply--"are you hinting at any disgrace?"</p> - -<p>"No: what disgrace could befall so noble a family? I hold my tongue."</p> - -<p>"Because you are paid for it," retorted Ruth. Already her wits were -at work trying to search out the reason for all this: she scented a -mystery and began vaguely to connect it with the Jenner case. Half -in jest, half in earnest, she asked a leading question. "Do you know -anything of this murder?"</p> - -<p>"No. Duvel! I should think not. It was before my time."</p> - -<p>"Yet I wonder you are not afraid to sleep in this room. It was here that -the body was found."</p> - -<p>Job laughed, and stared at the stains on the floor near the window. -"Yes; it was here," he said. "But I know nothing."</p> - -<p>"You know what I found last time I came to this place?" she said, -recalling the glance exchanged between her aunt and the gypsy.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps," replied Job; then he began to laugh. "Oh, you are a rare -one, lady, you are!" he said. "You would rob me of my new tent by -asking me to speak about what does not concern you."</p> - -<p>"Ah! Then you have something to conceal?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps," said Job again. "But you may as well stop, sister. I hold my -peace until I die."</p> - -<p>Ruth looked at him fixedly. By this time she felt quite sure that -the secret which procured for Job food, and fire, and roof-tree, was -connected with the murder.</p> - -<p>"What you know has nothing to do with Mr. Cass--with my father?" she -asked in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"No, no; on my soul it has not," he said, earnestly. "Why do you think -so, sister?"</p> - -<p>"Has it anything to do with the murder?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot tell you."</p> - -<p>"You need not, for I can see the truth in your face. Tell me this, do -you know what I found under that window?"</p> - -<p>He looked at her. "Yes, I know," he said, softly, and refused to speak -another word.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_20" href="#div1Ref_20">CHAPTER XX.</a></h4> -<h5>WHAT MR. CASS HAD TO SAY.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Mr. Cass arrived home in a more cheerful frame of mind. His business, -whatever it was, had evidently prospered, and the look of anxiety which -his face had worn had given place to his usual imperturbable smile. He -was relieved, too, to hear that Amy had gone. Altogether, when, the -dinner hour arrived, Ruth found that he was as pleased as ever to be -alone with her.</p> - -<p>"By the way, my dear," he said, after the dessert was placed on the -table and they had had some desultory chat, "we are about to have a -visitor."</p> - -<p>"Geoffrey?" asked Ruth, eagerly. She was longing to see her lover again.</p> - -<p>"No; Neil Webster. I have been to Bognor to see him. He is much better, -poor fellow, though still far from well. However, he is coming down -here, where he will be surrounded with more comfort than Mrs. Jent can -provide. Before long I hope he will be quite restored to health."</p> - -<p>"I am glad he is coming, papa." She hesitated, and then continued in a -low voice: "Are you going to assist him?"</p> - -<p>"I thought we had agreed to close that discussion, Ruth?" said her -father with some coldness. "Assist him? What can I do? I have told him -that I will endeavour to prove his mother's innocence, but I have not -much hope of success. Whatever you may say, Ruth, I believe the woman -is guilty."</p> - -<p>"I think she is innocent," cried the girl, throwing back her head with -a look of defiance.</p> - -<p>"I know you do. Well, if her innocence can be proved so much the -better. At present Neil has promised not to worry more than he can -help. I want to see him on his feet again, therefore he must have -cheerful company to distract his mind."</p> - -<p>"Is that why you asked him down here?" asked Ruth, ironically. "I am -afraid his spirits will not rise in this house. Amy left it because she -found the dulness intolerable."</p> - -<p>"Amy is a frivolous butterfly, my dear. I hope you have more sense. You -must do your best to amuse Neil, and above all you must say nothing to -him about this case. It is becoming a sort of monomania with him, and -his thoughts must be kept off it."</p> - -<p>"In that case I shall get Jennie to amuse him," replied Ruth "for I -find it difficult not to become a monomaniac on the subject myself. -Besides, I want her to marry him."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass stroked his chin and did not appear to look unfavourably on -this proposal. "Neil might do worse," he said, after a pause. "Jennie -is a good little creature and will make him a very adaptable wife. You -would never have suited yourself to the boy. Geoffrey Heron is more in -your way, Ruth. He will be at once your husband and your master."</p> - -<p>"So long as he is not a domestic tyrant I do not care. I am very, very -fond of Geoffrey, now that I have got over my foolish feeling for Neil. -I do wish Geoffrey would come to see me oftener."</p> - -<p>At that moment, as if in answer to her words, a servant appeared with -a card, which he presented to his master. "Queer!" exclaimed Mr. Cass, -glancing at it through his eye-glass. "Here is the very man you want."</p> - -<p>"Geoffrey!" she cried, joyfully.</p> - -<p>"Yes; I wonder why he did not send me notice of his coming. He wants -to see me on business. Business!" he repeated, with a frown. "Humph! I -hope he has found no new mare's nest with your assistance."</p> - -<p>"I have meddled no more with the case, papa, if that is what you mean," -said Miss Cass. "But where is he?"</p> - -<p>"In the library. I will see him first. You can talk to him afterwards."</p> - -<p>"Ask him to stay, papa," said Ruth, following her father to the door of -the dining-room.</p> - -<p>"Of course he can stay if he likes," Mr. Cass said, looking at his -daughter as if he were about to make some remark. However, he thought -better of it and hurried out. Ruth guessed that it had been in his -mind to say something about the unhappy affair in which they were -all interested. She was irritated at not being admitted into his -confidence, for her nerves were worn thin with the constant strain. -However, he had been quite determined to see Geoffrey alone; and all -she could do was to possess herself in patience until such time as the -conversation should have ended.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the two men were sitting opposite one another in Mr. Cass's -room. Geoffrey refused to have any dinner; he had dined before leaving -home, he said, but he did not decline a cigar and glass of good port. -Mr. Cass was at once convinced, from the expression of tragic gravity -on the young man's face, that he had something serious to say, and he -concluded that it had to do with the Jenner case. But he was not going -to commit himself by introducing the subject lest he might appear too -eager. He talked lightly on desultory matters and waited for Heron to -begin.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Cass," he said, at last, "I have come to renew our former -conversation."</p> - -<p>"Oh, the Jenner murder, I suppose?" Mr. Cass said, lightly. "I thought -as much; but I did not know that you intended to pursue the matter."</p> - -<p>"Nor did I of my own free will," replied Geoffrey, coolly; "but -circumstances have thrust upon me fresh discoveries, and I want your -assistance."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass looked up sharply, and replied with studied carelessness: "Of -course I will do my best to help you, my dear fellow; but really I do -not see how I can."</p> - -<p>"You will soon see when I have told you of my discovery," was the grim -answer. "About those links, you know----"</p> - -<p>The merchant started and changed colour. "Ah!" he said. "Ruth told you?"</p> - -<p>"Some time ago; but what she did not tell me, and what you did not -reveal, Mr. Cass, was that you were the owner of those links."</p> - -<p>"How can you be certain on that point?" asked Mr. Cass, calmly. "What -have you found out to make you think that they--at any rate the broken -one Ruth got under the window of the Turnpike House--have anything to -do with me?</p> - -<p>"I will tell you," he said, leaning forward and looking very directly -at his host. "You gave a portion of one of those links to your -granddaughter Mildred for her doll. I found the child crying because -Ruth had taken what she called a 'brooch' from her. At first I did not -connect it with the one Ruth had found, but when she described it I -guessed that it was part of the set; to make certain I shewed her the -one her aunt had picked up, and she recognised it at once as the double -of her brooch, with the difference in the design, of course. You did -not tell me of this, Mr. Cass.</p> - -<p>"Why should I have told you?" Mr. Cass's tone was slightly defiant. "I -did give such a link to Mildred, and it was one of a set."</p> - -<p>"Have you the set?" asked Heron. "Forgive my asking you, but I have a -good reason for doing so."</p> - -<p>"I know what your reason is," replied the merchant, raising his voice; -"but you are wrong; I did not drop that link at the Turnpike House--I -did not murder Jenner!"</p> - -<p>"Nothing was further from my mind," protested the young man. "You jump -to conclusions; my meaning was quite different."</p> - -<p>The expression on Mr. Cass's face was one half of relief, half of -uneasiness.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, then?" he demanded. "I have a right to know."</p> - -<p>"You shall know. It was in order to tell you that I came over this -evening. But first, have you the remaining links?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass crossed the room to an old-fashioned desk which stood in a -corner, and began to search. In five minutes he returned to his seat by -the fire, bringing with him an oval enamelled with a pack of cards.</p> - -<p>"That is all I have," he said. "Mildred has the one with the horse on -it; you have the other with the champagne bottle."</p> - -<p>"And the ballet girl? Where is that one?" Mr. Cass was silent and -shifted uneasily in his chair. "That I cannot tell you until I know -more clearly what you have discovered."</p> - -<p>"You shall know all. It may save a certain person from a relentless -enemy. Yes; you may look, Mr. Cass! I tell you there is one man who -hates another with all the intensity of his soul, and will only too -willingly do him an injury."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass began to grow angry at this mysterious description. "One -man--another man?" he repeated. "What do you mean? Who is the enemy?"</p> - -<p>"Julian Roper."</p> - -<p>"And who is he?" Heron looked at him in astonishment. If faces were to -be read, his host knew nothing of this man. "I am surprised that you do -not know who Roper is," he said, slowly.</p> - -<p>"Why should I? I never even heard his name, that I can recollect. If he -has any grudge against me, I cannot understand the reason, seeing, as I -have said, that he is unknown to me."</p> - -<p>"I did not say that he had a grudge against you."</p> - -<p>"No, but you hinted as much. After all, I suppose I am the man who is -so well hated. At least, I can take your speech in no other way."</p> - -<p>"I don't mean you at all. I allude to Marshall--your brother-in-law."</p> - -<p>"Marshall!" Mr. Cass sprang to his feet and his face turned positively -grey; this time Geoffrey had no reason to complain of indifference: it -was plain that his host feared the revelation about to be made against -his sister's husband. "I don't quite understand," he said. "What has -Marshall----"</p> - -<p>"I think you understand very well, Mr. Cass; and I can only wish that -during our last conversation you had spoken out. If you want the truth -in plain words, I say that Frank Marshall murdered Jenner at the -Turnpike House to recover a bill of exchange on which he had forged my -father's name."</p> - -<p>"Stop! Stop!" cried Mr. Cass, dropping back into his seat. "What--what -grounds have you--such an accusation----"</p> - -<p>"Is it not true?"</p> - -<p>"Upon my word of honour, I cannot say."</p> - -<p>"I think you can, Mr. Cass. You know that Mrs. Jenner is innocent and -that Marshall is guilty."</p> - -<p>The merchant became vehement. "I cannot say that!" he cried, dashing -his fist on the table. "Because I don't know. I did suspect Marshall -myself--on certain grounds; but I knew nothing of this bill--I could -not fathom his motive. I was doubtful, and so I came to the conclusion -that Mrs. Jenner was the guilty person. I would have told you all this -before, Heron, but the honour of my family----"</p> - -<p>"I hope to be one of the family myself, soon," Geoffrey said, quietly; -"and you cannot suppose that I am less anxious than you are to avoid a -scandal. I must know the truth now, at all costs."</p> - -<p>"You shall know everything I can tell you. Oh, Heavens! If it should be -so--if he should be guilty! I could never be sure--never; or I would -have taken steps to get that unfortunate woman released; I did not want -her to suffer. In some way--without incriminating Marshall--I would -have managed it, if only I had been sure! But this bill--ah! that was -his motive, and I never knew! He did not tell me that. As to Roper, I -can assure you that this is the first time, to my knowledge, that I -have heard his name."</p> - -<p>"Yet he discounted the bill. It was in his office that Jenner was -employed after he had failed on the stage."</p> - -<p>"I took no interest in the man after I had dismissed him. I never even -heard his employer's name. He stole the bill, I suppose--ah, yes, I -begin to understand--and he came down here to blackmail Marshall. Quite -so. Great Heavens! Can he be guilty, after all? I'll have the truth out -of him at all costs."</p> - -<p>"That is the difficult part of it," Geoffrey said, with a flush. "I -can make Marshall speak out, but I dread his confession. By rights, we -should give him up to the law--and yet the disgrace--the----"</p> - -<p>"We must get at the truth first; afterwards we can decide how to get -the woman released, and how to punish my wretched brother-in-law. Tell -me what proof you have against him?"</p> - -<p>Heron produced his pocket-book, and took therefrom the bill of -exchange, which he gave to Mr. Cass. He started, as though a snake had -stung him. "Forged?" he asked, placing his finger on the signature of -Geoffrey Heron. Then on a nod from that young man, he added: "Did you -find this among your father's papers? No; that is impossible. Jenner -must have had it on the night he was murdered; yet if Marshall killed -him to get possession of it, how came it into your hands?"</p> - -<p>"Because Marshall lost the fruits of his wickedness he never gained -possession of this bill. Jenner was too clever for him; it seems, as I -learn from Mrs. Jenner, that she left him alone while she put her child -to bed. During that time he--fearing, no doubt, lest Marshall should -try and recover it--sewed it up in the body of a toy horse with which -his boy had been playing. Neil sent the horse to George Chisel, your -grandson, and he, as children will, cut up the animal. Miss Brawn saw -this paper among the stuffing, and gave it to me."</p> - -<p>"Does she know? Has she said----"</p> - -<p>"She knows nothing of the connection of this with the murder--and she -has said nothing for I made her give me her word that she would not. No -one but you, and I, and she are aware of its existence.</p> - -<p>"Roper--what of Roper?"</p> - -<p>"He knows nothing about it. If you knew how he hated Marshall, you -would be glad that he is ignorant. For he would certainly prosecute if -he got hold of this paper."</p> - -<p>"I doubt if he could now, seeing that your father--who alone could give -evidence as to the falsity of the signature--is dead. But why does he -hate Marshall so bitterly?"</p> - -<p>"Well, it appears that Roper had a daughter who fell in love with -him she would have married him, and he had given her every reason to -believe that he would. But, of course, he stopped at that, and she died -of a broken heart. I don't think there was anything scandalous about -the affair--nothing worse than the playing fast and loose with the -affections of the unhappy girl."</p> - -<p>"He always was a scoundrel. I paid him a large sum to leave my firm, -as I feared he would do something criminal some day. Then he married -my sister. I begged her to give him up; but she was headstrong, and -insisted. Great Heavens!" he cried. "And he married her very shortly -after he had committed this crime. Yet I doubt very much if he would -have had the courage to kill Jenner."</p> - -<p>"Will you tell me what led you to suspect him?"</p> - -<p>"In the first place, from the circumstances of his return on that -night; in the second, these links."</p> - -<p>"How is that? I should like to know all from the beginning."</p> - -<p>"Well, Marshall was staying here on the night of the crime. He looked -out of sorts; but he made some excuse--I forget what. After dinner -he said he was going out for a walk; it was wet and misty, and I -tried to dissuade him. My sister had gone to bed with a headache. I -was alone, and, although I never liked him, I wanted to talk to him. -But he insisted upon going. About nine he returned, knocked at the -library window--that French window over there--and I let him in, torn -and muddy and wild with fear! He said that he had been set upon by -robbers--footpads. The next morning I heard of the murder, and I spoke -to him about it, but he swore that he had not seen Jenner."</p> - -<p>"Tell me about the links. Are they yours?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I bought them many years ago, when I was young and vain. Marshall -saw them, and took a great fancy to them; so I gave him the set--and -now"--Mr. Cass clenched his hands--"I fear, if he got his deserts, that -they would hang him!"</p> - -<p>And, quite overcome, he bowed his head on the table.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_21" href="#div1Ref_21">CHAPTER XXI.</a></h4> -<h5>RUTH IS COMFORTED.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Presently Mr. Cass raised his head and looked at Geoffrey with such a -woebegone expression that the young man started. It seemed as if the -merchant had grown suddenly old; lines appeared on his face which had -never been there before; his eyes were sunken, and his shoulders had -bowed themselves as though the whole weight of his misery had been -placed upon them. The transformation was at once startling and painful.</p> - -<p>"Don't take it so much to heart," said Heron. "After all, we may both -be wrong about Marshall."</p> - -<p>"I hope so. I trust so." was the hoarse reply. "But if he is guilty, -what am I to think of myself? I had a suspicion, on the grounds of -which I have told you, yet here I have allowed an innocent woman to -spend all these years in gaol, when that scoundrel should have been in -her place."</p> - -<p>"As to that, you could hardly have accused your sister's husband."</p> - -<p>"He was not married to her at the time. If I had insisted upon an -explanation that night when he came in torn and dirty at yonder window -I might have prevented the marriage. I do not think that even the mad -love that Inez had for him would have stood such a test. But Mrs. -Jenner held her tongue when she should have spoken out, so I had no -clue."</p> - -<p>"Even if she had spoken out she could have done nothing. She was silent -because she fancied that Neil, in his madness, had killed his father; -she never suspected Marshall. But retrospection can do no good; the -thing is done, and what we have to consider now is how best to get out -of it. If Marshall is guilty he must give us a written confession and -leave the country--without our connivance. What purpose would it serve -to have him suffer at this stage? Besides, from all I have heard from -Mrs. Jenner her scamp of a husband quite deserved his fate. Marshall's -confession would set her free----"</p> - -<p>"At the cost of publicity!" burst out Mr. Cass. "How [*** *** ***] -disgrace, Heron? Think of my sister, of Ruth, of Amy, my married -daughter; it would mean ruin to them all. And you, how could you marry -into such a family?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, as to that I am not afraid to face the world. I should be a mean -hound if I were to visit Marshall's sins on Ruth. Whatever happens, you -may be certain that Ruth will be my wife, and that she will receive -from me all the love and affection due to so charming and honest a -girl."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Heron." He grasped the young man's hand.</p> - -<p>"But," exclaimed the younger man, "as to Marshall, when we know the -truth for certain we will decide how to act. Above all we must not be -in a hurry. You say you gave the links to him?"</p> - -<p>"I did. And what is more, he wore them on that night. I remember his -calling my attention to them at dinner."</p> - -<p>"Humph! Then he alone could have lost that one at the Turnpike House. -I suppose you did not notice if one was missing from his cuff when he -came into this room?"</p> - -<p>"No, I never gave the matter a thought. There was no reason why I -should. I believed that he had been attacked by gypsies--you know how -many there are always about these lonely roads. An assault of that -nature would have been quite enough to account for the mud on his -clothes and their torn condition. I never thought he had met Jenner."</p> - -<p>"Was there bad blood between them?"</p> - -<p>"Well. I am not quite sure. It seems that Marshall had persecuted Mrs. -Jenner with his attentions, but her husband was not of the sort to take -any trouble about that. He and Marshall I had been boon companions for -a long time. Whether they parted on account of come row, I don't know; -but one thing is clear, that Jenner saw Marshall again when Marshall -called on Julian Roper to discount that bill, and finding that it was a -forgery stole it to come down here and blackmail his former friend."</p> - -<p>"How could he find out that it was a forgery?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, very easily. Roper might have talked, or Jenner might have -listened. At all events he knew the truth. I suppose they met that -night at the Turnpike House."</p> - -<p>"No," said Heron, suddenly recollecting his conversation with the dead -man's widow. "Jenner had seen Marshall before he came to the Turnpike -House. Of course, Marshall might have followed him and watched him -through the window; then seeing the pocket-book--which he supposed -would contain the bill--he might have killed him and cleared off. But -this Marshall must tell us; that's if he can be made to tell."</p> - -<p>"I'll force it out of him," Mr. Cass said, grimly. "Those sleeve-links, -for instance; he has to explain how he came to lose one at the Turnpike -House. I remember after Marshall went away from here the housemaid -brought me the pair enamelled the pack of cards and the horse, which -she said Mr. Marshall had left in his room. I thought he must be tired -of them, and that he had probably taken the other pair with him by -mistake. So I put those he had left into my desk, and I thought no more -about it. When Mildred wanted a brooch for her doll I separated them -and gave one to the child--the one with the horse. The one with the -pack of cards I left on my table, intending to give it to Ethel."</p> - -<p>"I have the champagne bottle link which was dropped under the window," -Geoffrey said. "Now, what has become of the other one, the ballet, -girl?"</p> - -<p>"No doubt that also will be found at the Turnpike House," said Mr. -Cass. "I must tell you that the fastening of the links was somewhat -worn, and that a slight tug would have, broken them. In putting his -arm through the window to grasp the knife, which Mrs. Jenner says was -on the table, I daresay Marshall's cuff caught in a nail and the links -were torn apart. Both would have fallen to the ground. One has been -found, the other, no doubt, is still on the ground."</p> - -<p>"In that case we must make a search to-morrow," said Geoffrey, rising.</p> - -<p>"No, we must see Marshall first," Mr. Cass said, very decidedly. "I -would go over with you to-night; but that would make Inez suspicious. -I do not want her to know anything of all this. And, after all, we may -be mistaken; but he must give us an explanation. I will write a note -to him this evening and ask him to come over to-morrow. You call here, -Heron, at eleven o'clock, and we will force the truth out of him."</p> - -<p>"Very well, I think that would be best. I hope he will be able to -exculpate himself. If Mrs. Marshall should get to know----"</p> - -<p>"She would fight for her husband tooth and nail. You don't know what a -tigress my sister is when she is roused; the Spanish blood, I suppose. -By the way," he went on, looking at Heron with a faint smile. "I am -half Spanish, too, and no doubt I am credited with a fiery temper -Confess, now, Heron, you thought from my silence that I had killed this -man?"</p> - -<p>Geoffrey nodded with some embarrassment. "I did," he said, frankly. -"But can you blame me? Appearances were against you."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass shrugged his shoulders. "No, I don't blame you," he said. -"But you might have given me the benefit of the doubt. Appearances are -against Marshall, too. Well, we shall see if he is as wrongly suspected -as I was. Are you going now? It is early."</p> - -<p>"I should like to see Ruth for a few minutes."</p> - -<p>"Well, she will be quite as glad to see you. She is dull, poor girl, -and the horror of this thing--so much as she knows of it at least--has -got on her nerves. Go and see her, and come here at eleven to-morrow. -Of course, you will tell her nothing."</p> - -<p>"Certainly not. Good-night."</p> - -<p>"By the way, I forgot to tell you that Webster is coming down next -week. He is much better, and I think the change will do him good."</p> - -<p>"Humph! Will you tell him of this discovery?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. What do you think?"</p> - -<p>"I should say nothing until we are quite certain. Let us our own -counsel for the honour of the family."</p> - -<p>"I think you are right," said Mr. Cass with a sigh. "Heaven grant, for -the happiness of us all, that we are wrong in our suspicions. Now go, -my dear hoy, and leave me to think the matter over. Ruth is waiting for -you."</p> - -<p>Heron found Ruth in the winter garden and in tears. She told him, she -was the moat miserable girl in the world, and that nobody cared for -her; which last statement Mr. Heron was not inclined to hear without -venturing to put forward his own claims.</p> - -<p>"My darling, girl, how can you say so?" he asked, pressing her closely -in his arms. "I love you more than all the world."</p> - -<p>"Every man says that when he can think of nothing else to say," replied -Ruth, who was too much disturbed to be wholly just. "And if you really -loved me, you wouldn't have neglected me so."</p> - -<p>"My dear, I was busy. You know what took up my time."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know, and I wish I didn't know! This horrid business has -troubled me morn and night. I wonder my hair hasn't turned grey!"</p> - -<p>"Nonsense!" cried Geoffrey. "It is as black as ever."</p> - -<p>"Black as the outlook of our lives."</p> - -<p>Heron could not help a smile at this grandiloquent speech. It was so -unlike Ruth to indulge in what the Americans call "tall talk." "Leave -the wretched affair alone, dear," he said, kissing her. "You need not -trouble your pretty head any more about it."</p> - -<p>"But I must," she insisted. "If my suspicions are not set at rest, I -shall go mad. And the worst of it is, I have promised my father to tell -you nothing. If I could only speak freely to you, it would ease my -mind."</p> - -<p>"Then ease it and speak freely, Ruth. Oh, you need not shake your head. -I know what you are talking about--those sleeve-links."</p> - -<p>"Yes, that is it!" she cried hysterically. "I have nearly killed myself -with anxiety over the whole thing. Oh, what a wicked girl I am!"</p> - -<p>"No, my dear; only a very foolish girl. But you can set your mind at -rest once and for all. Your father is perfectly innocent of what you -impute to him. He had nothing do with the crime; and he believed in all -good faith that Mrs. Jenner was the guilty person."</p> - -<p>Ruth rose to her feet, and a smile of relief dispelled her tears. "Oh, -how delighted I am!" she said, excitedly. "I shan't worry any more. Oh, -how thankful I am! What a weight is off my mind! But why didn't he tell -me before?"</p> - -<p>"He had his reasons--reasons, which he has explained to me. They need -not trouble you, my dear. I think you had better put the whole affair -out of your mind."</p> - -<p>"I will, now that papa is free from the stigma; he does not know that I -thought he was seriously mixed up in the case. He would never forgive -me if he did! Don't ever tell him, Geoffrey."</p> - -<p>"No, I won't. Now, don't worry any more."</p> - -<p>"But, Geoffrey, if Mrs. Jenner is not guilty, who is?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, we must find that out," replied Heron, thinking it best not to -reveal anything about Mr. Marshall--an explanation which would only -have caused fresh trouble. "If you are wise, Ruth, you will leave the -matter alone."</p> - -<p>"I intend to," she said. "But there is one thing I want to tell you, -Geoffrey--Job Lovel."</p> - -<p>"Who is he?"</p> - -<p>"The gypsy. Didn't I tell you about him?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I think you did say something about having met him at the -Turnpike House. Well, what has he been doing?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing, except that he has taken up his abode at the Turnpike House."</p> - -<p>"Like his impudence!" cried the young man. "Why, that house is mine, -and if he wanted to live in the wretched hovel, he should have come to -me. Besides, I do not wish anyone to live in that shamble. I intend to -have it pulled down, and so get rid of all the legends which haunt the -neighbourhood."</p> - -<p>"I wish you would pull it down; it is an ill-omened place--a blot on -the landscape; and the sooner it is removed the better it will be for -the countryside. The people round here think it is haunted, you know, -and that keeps up the memory of the murder. If the house were pulled -down, there would be an end of it all--and the sooner the better. But I -do not know what Aunt Inez will say!"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Marshall?" cried Geoffrey, looking at her sharply. "What has she -got to do with it?"</p> - -<p>"That is what I want to tell you, it seems that Aunt Inez has taken an -interest in Job; she suggested that he should patch up the house and -live in it; and she has arranged to allow him so much a week to live -on."</p> - -<p>"Humph! That is strange. Mrs. Marshall is not usually so philanthropic."</p> - -<p>"That's exactly what I thought; and that made me think that papa had -something to do with the murder, and that Aunt Inez was shielding him."</p> - -<p>"Shielding him--how?"</p> - -<p>"By assisting Job. I went to see him the other day, and I found Aunt -Inez there; she was very angry with me for having gone. I saw Job -afterwards, and he would tell me nothing, but he hinted at a secret -between him and Aunt Inez; now I think----"</p> - -<p>"Don't think anything about it," Heron said, with a forced laugh. "Your -aunt is getting charitable in her old age. Believe me, there is nothing -between her and the gypsy, relative to the murder, whatever he may say."</p> - -<p>"But he talked, Geoffrey----"</p> - -<p>"I daresay; I wonder he did not threaten! I will this for myself and if -he knows anything--which I very much doubt--I will get it out of him. -My dear, how can you think your aunt knows anything about the matter? -Now, Ruth, you must promise me to leave it all alone, and think no more -about it."</p> - -<p>"Very well," she said, with unusual meekness. "Then you don't think -Aunt Inez has anything to do--any knowledge, I mean?"</p> - -<p>"I am quite sure she has not. She is kind to Job out of pure charity. -Now I must say good-night and, once more, don't worry."</p> - -<p>But as he drove home he came to the conclusion that Mrs. Marshall's -kindness to the gypsy was meant, in some way, to shield her husband.</p> - -<p>"And that complicates matters,"--thought Heron.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_22" href="#div1Ref_22">CHAPTER XXII.</a></h4> -<h5>AT BAY.</h5> -<br> - -<p>On the following morning, Geoffrey arrived precisely at the time -appointed by Mr. Cass, and was shewn at once into the library. His host -was there alone; for Marshall, with his usual want of punctuality, had -not yet appeared. Geoffrey was informed of the sudden change in Ruth. -"Your visit did her good last night," said her father with a smile.</p> - -<p>"I told her not to worry herself--that all was quite right; and she -seemed comforted. But she told me something which seems to hint -that Mrs. Marshall knows of her husband's guilt." And he, repeated -Ruth's tale about the gypsy and Mrs. Marshall's kindness to him--her -extraordinary kindness, he termed it. Mr. Cass listened attentively, -but shook his head. "I don't agree with you," he said. "You do not know -Inez as I do."</p> - -<p>While they were still speaking--in whispers like two guilty -people--Marshall bustled into the room in what he would have called his -breezy fashion. In reality his manner was simply aggressive and noisy, -but it gave him the air of being--what he wanted to be thought--a -creature too guileless and unconventional to conceal his feelings. -"Good-day, Cass," he cried loudly to his former partner, and nodding to -Heron. "Well, here I am! What's the matter? Got into any trouble?"</p> - -<p>"No, I have not got into any trouble," was Mr. Cass's emphatic reply.</p> - -<p>"This boy, then?" and Marshall turned smilingly to Geoffrey, upon whom -he looked as a possible member of the family. "You're in trouble--eh, -eh? Ah, well, young men will be young men!"</p> - -<p>"I am sure you speak from experience, Marshall, said Mr. Cass, while -Heron contented himself with a shake of the head. But there is nothing -wrong with Heron."</p> - -<p>"Very glad, I'm sure," Marshall said insolently; it seemed as though he -scented some trouble in the air and thought to meet it with bluff. As -yet he had not the faintest idea that the coming conversation was to be -serious for him personally. "Well," he went on, "as you are all right -and Heron is a good boy, why have you asked me to come over?"</p> - -<p>"Can't you guess?" asked Geoffrey, angered by the man's manner.</p> - -<p>He lifted his eyebrows. "No," he said, tranquilly. "I really am at a -loss to understand why----"</p> - -<p>"Cast your thoughts back twelve years," interrupted Mr. Cass, sharply, -"and then perhaps you will understand why----"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" asked his brother-in-law, a thrill running through -him. He saw now that this was going to be serious for him. "Do you -remember the night when you came in at yonder window, muddy and -ragged?" Mr. Cass said, slowly. "When you told me a lie--that you had -been attacked by footpads and----"</p> - -<p>"It was no lie!" cried the man, moistening his dry lips. "I told you -what had actually happened."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, you didn't. For instance, you never told me that you had seen -Jenner."</p> - -<p>He uttered a faint cry, and flung himself back in his chair with a -startled look. "I did not see Jenner!" he said.</p> - -<p>"Nor did you tell me that you had been at the Turnpike House," -continued Mr. Cass, not noticing the interruption.</p> - -<p>"That I deny. I was not near the Turnpike House."</p> - -<p>With a look of scorn Mr. Cass picked up an object which was lying on -the table, and held it out. "Do you know what this is?"</p> - -<p>"A piece of gold, so far as I can see. What is that to me?"</p> - -<p>"Evidence that you were at the Turnpike House on that night."</p> - -<p>"I tell you I was not there!" he cried, desperately. "Oh, don't trouble -yourself to tell lies," Mr. Cass said, wearily. "They will avail you -nothing in the end. Since you do not choose to recognise this object, -let me tell you that it is a part of the set of links I gave you -shortly before that murder."</p> - -<p>"Links--I--I--only wore them--once."</p> - -<p>"I know you did, and on that night. You lost one pair and left the -other in your bedroom, where they were found by the housemaid and -returned to me. You would have been better advised had you destroyed -them, Marshall."</p> - -<p>"Why should I have destroyed them? I lost one pair, it is true. The -catch between the ovals was worn, and the links broke."</p> - -<p>"Not of their own accord," Mr. Cass said, quickly. "Your cuff caught on -a nail when you put your arm through the window to kill Jenner."</p> - -<p>Marshall uttered a loud cry and started to his feet his face crimson -with rage, and shaking with what looked very much like terror. "I -deny that," he cried. "I deny that I was at the Turnpike House--that I -killed----"</p> - -<p>"This link was found under the window," interrupted Mr. Cass. "The man -who wore it was the man who killed Jenner; you are the man!"</p> - -<p>"I kill Jenner? It is a lie!" Marshall continued to stare at the piece -of gold which his brother-in-law continued to hold up as though he were -fascinated. He drew his hand across his brow as he uttered his denial -in a weak voice, and seemed to be trying to recall something. "Why -should I have killed him?" he asked.</p> - -<p>It was now Heron's turn. He drew from his pocket the bill of exchange. -"Perhaps this will supply the motive," he said, coldly; "this forgery, -discounted by Julian Roper."</p> - -<p>With a face now positively purple and eyes almost staring out of his -head, Marshall craned forward his head to look at the fatal evidence -of his past. He recognised it only too well. For years he had been -dreading this moment, and now that it had arrived the sight of the -document proved too much for him. With a strangled cry he tugged at -his collar, then fell like a log on the floor. The strong man, the -guilty man, had fainted. And, neither Mr. Cass nor Heron were moved by -the catastrophe. It was to them decisive evidence of his guilt; and -when they recalled the lifelong imprisonment of Mrs. Jenner they could -find no pity in their hearts for the detected rogue. Rather were they -full of pity for those unhappy people with whom he was connected by -marriage. Nothing in their eyes could expiate his guilt.</p> - -<p>"It would be better if he died now," said Mr. Cass, as he watched Heron -loosen his collar and dash cold water on his face.</p> - -<p>"Pardon me, not at all," replied the younger man, looking up for a -moment. "If he died now there would be no confession."</p> - -<p>In the end they brought him round and placed him again in his chair, -a pitiable object, with his damp hair, his loosened collar and the -imploring look in his eyes. The most meritorious of men could not have -looked dignified under such circumstances, much less Frank Marshall, -who was so to speak, in the dock before two prejudiced judges.</p> - -<p>"I suppose you are going to give me up?" he said.</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, we want to get you out of this trouble--for the sake -of the family," said Mr. Cass, coldly. "Though by rights you should -hang."</p> - -<p>"They don't hang for forgery, stammered the wretched creature, -arranging his collar.</p> - -<p>"Pshaw! I am not speaking of the minor crime but of the greater. It was -you who murdered Jenner."</p> - -<p>"I did not. I swear I did not."</p> - -<p>"You did. I am convinced of it. He came down here with that bill in -order to blackmail you and you killed him."</p> - -<p>He made no attempt to assert his dignity. "You can kick a man when he -is down if you like," he said, in a quavering voice, "even though he is -your sister's husband, but you have no right to accuse him of a crime -he did not commit. I tell you I forged that bill, but I did not kill -the man."</p> - -<p>"You knew that he was in the neighbourhood?"</p> - -<p>"No, I was as much astonished as you could have been when I heard of -his death."</p> - -<p>"If you are innocent"--It was Heron who spoke--"how did it happen that a -part of the links you were wearing were found under the window of the -house? You must have dropped it there."</p> - -<p>"I did not." He seemed to be reflecting. "If you want to know the truth, -that pair of links was torn from me by the footpads who attacked me. I -daresay they killed him."</p> - -<p>"Rubbish!" cried Mr. Cass, looking at him with disgust. "Why do you tell -such lies? You met Jenner on that night, although you denied it when I -questioned you."</p> - -<p>"I was afraid of being implicated in the murder. I knew if you had the -slightest suspicion of me you would have stopped my marriage with Inez, -and I loved her."</p> - -<p>"You loved her money, you mean."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, I loved her money!" Marshall cried, violently. "I was on -the brink of ruin, and it was only her that stood between me and the -streets. I had to pay Roper the five hundred pounds. He could not have -prosecuted as the bill was missing, but he could have talked, and he -would have talked, had I not paid him the full sum. It was only when I -had possession of the money--my wife's money--that I was able to shut -his mouth. I knew before then that the bill was lost."</p> - -<p>"Because Jenner had shewn it to you on that night?"</p> - -<p>Marshall turned away sullenly, but still under compulsion answered: -"Yes, he did. I had received a letter from him saying that he was -coming here with the bill and would sell it to me. He asked me to -meet him at the Waggoner's Pond, half a mile from the Turnpike House, -where his wife was staying. As I had no money, and was in his power -absolutely--for by shewing the bill to you, Cass, he could have had my -marriage with your sister broken off--I was forced to meet him, and I -did meet him at seven o'clock."</p> - -<p>"Oh! so you did go out that night to meet him!"</p> - -<p>"I did," he said, defiantly. "I dare not tell you for you have always -had so many absurd prejudices. So I told you I was going for a walk, -and stole out to meet Jenner at the Waggoner's Pond. I said that if he -would wait till I was married and could handle money I would buy the -bill. So, finding that unless I made your sister my wife I should never -have a penny, he consented."</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Mr. Cass, "he consented to go without his pound of flesh--a -man like Jenner, bloodsucker and thief!"</p> - -<p>"He had to choose between exposing me and getting nothing or waiting -and being paid," said Marshall, vehemently. "Besides, he knew that Roper -was after him because he had stolen the bill, and that if he made a -fuss, whatever row I might get into, he would be in trouble himself. -So he agreed to wait until I had married Inez and then to accept a -thousand pounds. Meanwhile, he kept the bill and promised to hold -his tongue about it. He said he was going on to see his wife at the -Turnpike House, and that he would get money from her which would enable -him to lie low for a time while Roper was searching for him. It was -arranged that when I was married and had paid him the thousand pounds -he should go to America. I agreed to all this--I could do nothing -else--and then we parted."</p> - -<p>"Is that the truth?" Heron asked, sceptically.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is. You can believe or disbelieve it as you like. I left -him by the Waggoner's Pond, and that was the last I saw of him alive -or dead. On my way back to the house I was attacked by some tramps -who took my watch. They wrenched my links off--that is one pair, the -missing pair--and were about to take the other when they heard someone -coming and made off. I returned here and told Cass as little as I -could, in case he might see fit to stop my marriage with his sister."</p> - -<p>"I wish to Heaven I had stopped it!" Mr. Cass said, fiercely. "I don't -believe a word you say!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_23" href="#div1Ref_23">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></h4> -<h5>STILL IN DOUBT.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Marshall, seeing that the two men were silent, began to recover his -self-command. "I see you don't believe me. Perhaps there is no reason -why you should. But I swear I do not know who killed Jenner. If I had -known I should have got that bill out of him."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" said Geoffrey. "And you would have condoned his sin so long as he -gave you back the evidence of your own."</p> - -<p>"I would. Every man for himself in this world. I would have told him, -whosoever he was, that if he did not give me back the bill I would -denounce him to the police. But I have not the least idea who the -guilty person is." He wiped his face. "And all these years I have lived -in misery, fearing daily and hourly that the bill would turn up. I knew -Roper would not spare me if he got possession of it."</p> - -<p>"No wonder," remarked Heron, "seeing how badly you treated his daughter -Elsa."</p> - -<p>The culprit had the grace to blush. "Elsa Roper was never a penny the -worse by me," he said. "When I used to go to her father's office to -procure money she chose to fall in love with me. I made capital out of -that, as I do out of most things."</p> - -<p>"Don't be so shameless, man!" interposed his brother-in-law, sharply. -Marshall sickened him with his fluent villainy.</p> - -<p>"Oh, you were always a Puritan," sneered Marshall. "However, that is -neither here nor there. I let the girl believe that I cared for her in -order to get her father to part with his money, but I never intended to -marry her."</p> - -<p>"And she died of a broken heart," put in Heron.</p> - -<p>"So the old man says. As though a woman ever died of such a thing! She -caught a chill, and was carried off because she was not sufficiently -well nourished; that is the truth, although old Roper prefers to put -it down to me. If he had fed her better she would be alive now. But he -chooser to think I killed her, and would do me a serious injury it he -could. I am glad the bill did not fall into his hands. Where did you -get it?" he asked, turning to Geoffrey. "Or if you can tell me the name -of the person who had it I can tell you who was the assassin of Jenner. -Oh, it is quite true. Jenner shewed me the bill that night by the -Waggoner's Pond. I would have taken it by force, but he was stronger -than I; there was no chance of my getting the better of him. But I -noticed that he took it out of a red pocket-book. Now, that pocket-book -was never produced at the trial, so the assassin must have it."</p> - -<p>"Then you don't think Mrs. Jenner killed him?"</p> - -<p>"She? She wouldn't have killed a fly. No, she did not kill him. If she -had, that red pocket-book would have been produced in court. I have -been living in fear ever since, wondering who had it, though I always -intended to make use of the murder should the assassin have tried to -blackmail me. Who did you get the bill from, Heron?"</p> - -<p>"I did not got it from anyone. Jenner evidently thought that you might -come after him to steal it, so, according to his wife, he sewed it -up in the body of a toy horse with which his child had been playing. -Lately Neil wished to give this toy to George Chisel, so it came into -Ruth's possession. The boy cut it open, and Miss Brawn found the bill. -She gave it to me and I at once saw Roper about it. Besides, I read up -my father's diary and found that his name had been forged."</p> - -<p>"Did he know that I had done it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Roper called on him to tell him so. If my father had not died, -Mr. Marshall, you would have found yourself in prison for forgery."</p> - -<p>"No, I should not. You forget that Jenner stole the bill. No one could -have prosecuted me without producing the document. I know enough law -for that. Besides, I had paid the money to Roper, and that I did only -to avoid a scandal. Does Ruth know about this, or Miss Brawn, or -George?"</p> - -<p>"They know nothing," replied Mr. Cass. "Ruth does not even know of the -existence of this bill. George is but a child, and took no notice of -it. As for Miss Brawn, she thinks the signature is all right. She will -hold her tongue. Oh, you are quite safe so far. But this murder. I feel -certain that you committed it; no one else could have had so powerful a -motive."</p> - -<p>"Still, someone else might have had a motive for all that. I am sure -Mrs. Jenner is innocent; but her husband had lots of enemies, and many -would gladly have done it, could they have escaped the consequences. -The only thing that puzzles me is the disappearance of the red -pocket-bock. I understand all about the bill now; it could not have -been made use of. Well, the whole affair is a mystery, but all I can -say is that I did not kill the man. I knew if it came to the pinch I -could always prove that."</p> - -<p>"It has come to the pinch now," said Mr. Cass, sternly. "Prove your -innocence, if you can for my part I believe you are guilty."</p> - -<p>"More fool you!" was the retort. "On that night, if you remember, we -had dinner at six--a light dinner, dished up in a hurry--your wife had -to go to London; you told her you would have some supper at nine, did -you not?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I remember something of that," said Mr. Cass, after a pause.</p> - -<p>"Was I not in to supper?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, you were; I remember that too."</p> - -<p>"And supper was at nine?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, it was ordered for nine, and I postponed it till half-past -because I did not feel hungry."</p> - -<p>"I was here when you gave the order, because you asked me whether I -would prefer supper at once, or wait."</p> - -<p>"That is true enough. Well?"</p> - -<p>"Well, if you will look again into the evidence given at the trial of -that unfortunate woman, you will find that the doctor said that Jenner -had been killed at nine o'clock. Therefore, it could not have been I -who struck the blow. By your own shewing I was with you at the time. -Now, am I innocent or guilty?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass looked at Geoffrey. "All this is true enough," he said, -quietly. "I begin to believe that you did not do it after all."</p> - -<p>"If you can be so honest as to admit that I was in this room at nine -o'clock I could not have killed Jenner, who was at that very time being -murdered by some unknown person four miles away. I am a forger, I admit -that; but"--here he became finely scornful--"I am not a murderer. -Foolish I may have been, wicked I never was."</p> - -<p>The two listeners gazed at each other in amazement. Then Marshall went -on.</p> - -<p>"Now I know where the bill is I feel relieved," he said, and his -self-pity was almost, pathetic. "I can sleep in peace, more especially -when it has been destroyed." As he spoke he advanced his hand towards -the table with the intention of taking the paper. Mr. Cass anticipated -him, and snatched the incriminating document away.</p> - -<p>"No, Marshall," he said, putting it in his pocket. "I keep this. You -are too dangerous a man to be allowed to go your own way. I use this -bill as a whip to manage you. Behave yourself, and act a decent part -for the remainder of your life, and no one shall ever know of this. But -try any of your tricks and you will be laid by the heels."</p> - -<p>"Do you call this honourable?" blustered Marshall.</p> - -<p>"I call it caution. You are quite safe with me, and I am sure our -friend Heron will say nothing."</p> - -<p>"Certainly. I shall be guided entirely by Mr. Cass."</p> - -<p>"But Roper might get hold of it, and then I should be lost."</p> - -<p>"Roper will not get hold of it. I keep it, Marshall. It is for your -wife's sake only that I am thus lenient. So far as you are concerned -nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see you suffering a just -punishment. You are the most unblushing scoundrel I have ever seen!"</p> - -<p>"You had better look out Cass," said Marshall, threateningly. "I can -make you pay dearly for these insults."</p> - -<p>"Can any person possibly insult you?" sneered Mr. Cass. "Do what you -like, but remember"--he touched his breast-pocket--"I will exact -payment. Now you know. As for the rest, I don't want you in my house -again, but as that might provoke remark on the part of Inez, and lead -to an explanation, I will permit you to call occasionally; but I hope -your visits will be rare. Were I in your place I should go abroad. Now -you can go."</p> - -<p>The man was livid with rage. He was evidently inclined to make trouble. -He knew that he could go pretty far, for only the direst extremity -would force Mr. Cass into creating a scandal by producing the bill. But -he could find nothing to say in face of the threat held over him; and, -cowed by the looks of the two men, he finally sneaked out of the room. -Then he left the house, but he had recovered himself sufficiently to -make a gay remark to Ruth and Jennie, whom he met returning from their -walk. Truly the man was bad to the core.</p> - -<p>"Do you believe him?" asked Heron when they were alone.</p> - -<p>"Yes, what he says is perfectly correct. I confess I am greatly -relieved."</p> - -<p>"So am I. But do you think he knows who killed Jenner?"</p> - -<p>"He might, but that we shall never get out of him. On the other hand I -am inclined to think he does not know, for believing the assassin to -have had the bill, he would have made an attempt to get it from him. -But what is to be done next? Mrs. Jenner is still in gaol and ill."</p> - -<p>"Ah, that reminds me," said Geoffrey, taking a letter out of his -pocket. "I had this from Neil this morning. I intended to show it to -you, but our interview with our friend put it out of my head. He is -coming down to-day."</p> - -<p>"What!" exclaimed Mr. Cass, running his eyes over the letter. "Is he -well enough to travel?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes; he has wonderful recuperative power. You see, he says there -that he intends to see his mother. It appears she has sent for him. -He must have gone to her yesterday as he is coming down to-day. I am -anxious to see him, for I cannot help wondering why she should have -sent for him. Do you think she might have something to tell him?"</p> - -<p>"No." Mr. Cass shook his head. "I saw her the other day. She is quite -ignorant who killed her husband; she is in the infirmary now, and very -ill. I don't think the end is far off. I expect she sent for Neil to -bid him good-bye." Mr. Cass paused for a moment. "You know, Heron," -he said, "in spite of all the trails you have followed, I cannot help -thinking that she really killed her husband."</p> - -<p>"I cannot believe it. The person who committed the murder was the man -who got those links--who dropped one under the window."</p> - -<p>"Ah--then we shall never find out."</p> - -<p>"Marshall might know; he might have recognised the footpads who -attacked him that night," suggested Heron. Then he started, struck with -a sudden idea. "By the way, is it possible that the gypsy Job was one -of them? That would explain how he comes to be so intimate with your -sister."</p> - -<p>"I don't see that," remarked Mr. Cass, with a frown. "If she knew that -Job had attacked her husband, and had afterwards murdered Jenner, -he would receive but short shrift from the hands of Inez. She is no -sentimentalist."</p> - -<p>"But, don't you see," persisted Geoffrey, "she may think that he has -the bill--she may be keeping her knowledge of the murder quiet so that -Job may not produce the document and incriminate her husband."</p> - -<p>"Inez knows nothing about the bill. You heard what her husband said!"</p> - -<p>"He is such a liar!" cried Heron, in disgust.</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless, I believe on this occasion he spoke the truth. I cannot -believe that my sister--in spite of her love for that reptile--would -go as far as to grovel to a gypsy and shield a murderer. No; the gypsy -might have been one of those who attacked Marshall on that night; -but I do not believe that he killed Jenner. Don't trouble any more -about the matter, Heron. We have done all we could with no result. -Besides, Mrs. Jenner--poor soul--will soon be released from her unjust -imprisonment--if, indeed, it be unjust; death will set her free."</p> - -<p>"What about Neil and his wish to see his mother cleared?"</p> - -<p>"We shall see what he says about that," replied Mr. Cass, closing the -subject in a more peremptory manner than was usual with him.</p> - -<p>The same afternoon Neil Webster arrived at Hollyoaks, looking a -shadow of his former self, pale and fragile, and very downcast. Ruth -and Jennie both gave him a cordial welcome; and neither his host -nor Geoffrey Heron were lacking in heartiness. But all the kindness -and attention he received served only to make the young man more -melancholy. Observing this, and knowing that he had seen his mother, -Mr. Cass took the first opportunity to draw him into the library: -it might be that Mrs. Jenner had told the poor fellow something. It -appeared that she had.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I saw her," Neil said, in reply to Mr. Cass's question. "She is -dying; I have seen her for the last time! She cannot live many days -now; indeed, I wanted to stay beside her till the end, but she would -not hear of it. She said that I was to go away and remember always that -she had loved me. For the rest, I was to put her out of my mind, and -live as good a life as I could. Then she kissed me, and we parted."</p> - -<p>"Is that all?"</p> - -<p>"That is all; except that she has commanded me to stop searching for -the real assassin of my father."</p> - -<p>"Did she say that?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; she said no one would ever find out the truth, and, moreover, -that my father had deserved his fate. She was sure I had not committed -the crime; she swore that she herself was guiltless; but she said that -it was quite impossible that the truth should ever come to light."</p> - -<p>"Do you think she knows the truth, Neil?"</p> - -<p>"No; I am sure she does not. She said if she did she would have told -me, if only to put my mind at rest. But she knows nothing. Poor mother!"</p> - -<p>"And what do you intend to do?"</p> - -<p>"Obey her commands," said Neil. "I shall search no more."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_24" href="#div1Ref_24">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></h4> -<h5>ANOTHER PIECE OF EVIDENCE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Ruth let Miss Brawn take entire possession of Neil. In spite of his -languid ways, Webster was an interesting study to a woman. So Miss Cass -found it a trifle dull; for Geoffrey had returned to his own place, and -did not come over to Hollyoaks quite so often as she thought he might -have done. Yet she rarely intruded upon Jennie and Neil, but allowed -them to drift into a companionship which she devoutly hoped would -result in the closer tie of marriage. Jennie continued to give the -usual lessons to her little pupils; and after school hours Ruth took -them off her hands, so that she might be free to entertain Neil. After -a time he recovered sufficient interest in his music to take up his -violin, and with Jennie he spent long hours going over his old music -and experimenting on new.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Ruth naturally found the house extremely dull without -Geoffrey; so she spent as much time as possible in long walks, in -riding her bicycle, and in paying visits. One day she recollected her -promise to call and see her Aunt Inez. Mr. Marshall had gone for a -change to Brighton, where, no doubt, he was enjoying himself after his -usual selfish fashion. His wife had declined to accompany him, giving -as her reason that she had more to do than waste her time among a -pack of fools--as she was wont to designate the rest of the world. So -she remained at home and attended to her duties in rather a joyless -way. She still retained a mild love for her husband; she despised his -weaknesses; she hated his lack of principle; but some sentiment of -love remained at the bottom of her soul. Companionship had begotten -toleration; and, on the whole, she thought, she was not worse off than -other women. She, at least, could govern her husband's weaker nature, -and could curb his follies. And this somewhat unsatisfactory employment -gave her plenty to do; so she succeeded in passing her life in an -endurable fashion. Fortunately for her, she was not a woman who had -the capacity for being bored. Nine out of ten women would have killed -themselves out of sheer weariness of the flesh; but Mrs. Marshall -continued to live on--grimly.</p> - -<p>Ruth had often wondered in her secret soul if her aunt were doing -penance for some hidden sin; it was the only way in which she could -account for the asceticism of her life. She lived in an ugly house, in -which all the rooms were hideous both in colour and design--all, save -those which were occupied by the master of the house. His apartments, -furnished by himself, were charming in every way.</p> - -<p>As she stood now in the stone-hued drawing-room, the melancholy of the -place struck Ruth more than ever; and, moreover, glancing round the -room, she caught sight of a copy of Thomas a Kempis. "She's taking to -religion," she thought, turning over the leaves. "I really wonder if -there is a secret in her past life to account for----" But at this -moment a grim maid-servant entered I to interrupt her conjectures.</p> - -<p>"If you please, Miss," she said, "mistress is in the garret storing -things, and she wants to know if you will go up to her there?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, certainly," said Ruth, wondering if her aunt were mad that she -should invite a visitor to go poking about among old lumber--even -though that visitor were her niece. But she meekly followed the maid -up to the top of the house, and was introduced into a long, low, wide -attic, immediately under the roof. Here Aunt Inez, in a stone-coloured -dress, with a severe face, gave her an icy greeting. In spite of the -summer warmth the garret was chilly, and this, joined to her reception, -made the girl shiver.</p> - -<p>"I am glad you have remembered me at last, Ruth," said Mrs. Marshall, -in her most metallic tones. "I was beginning to think you had forgotten -me."</p> - -<p>"I found it difficult to leave the house, aunt; Neil Webster is there, -and, of course, I have had to attend to him."</p> - -<p>"I heard the young man was back again," she said, in a muffled voice, -"and truly, I wonder that my brother should have him in the house!"</p> - -<p>"Why shouldn't he? Neil is a good fellow!"</p> - -<p>"But his mother is not a good woman. She belongs to the criminal -classes."</p> - -<p>"My dear aunt," cried Ruth, "I am sure the poor woman is more sinned -against than sinning."</p> - -<p>"What do you know of her?" asked the good lady, turning a terrible eye -on her niece. "Has your father----"</p> - -<p>"Yes, he has; and I found out a great deal for myself. I am sure Mrs. -Jenner did not kill her husband."</p> - -<p>"You know nothing at all about it. Mrs. Jenner was a minx; I knew her -well when she lived at Hollyoaks and taught Amy. I lived there myself, -and managed the house, too, for your poor mother never did have any -idea of how to conduct an establishment. Mrs. Jenner--a bold, bad -woman! She came down to Westham after the arrest of her abominable -husband, and lived at the Turnpike House----"</p> - -<p>"And there her husband called to see her on the night he was murdered."</p> - -<p>"On the night she murdered him," corrected Mrs. Marshall, vehemently. -"Will you be wiser, than the law, Ruth? I tell you it was she who -struck the blow. I do not say that she had not good cause, for the man -was a brute. But she had no right to take his life!"</p> - -<p>"She didn't--she didn't," asseverated Ruth, with quite as much -vehemence as her aunt had shewn. "The blow was struck through the -window for the sake of getting a red---- Why, whatever is the matter, -aunt?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing--nothing!" gasped Mrs. Marshall. She had seated herself -suddenly on a convenient box, and with her hand to her side, was gazing -at her niece with an ashen face. "A stitch in the side--that's all, -child! Why did your father tell you all this--and what does he know -about the red pocket-book?"</p> - -<p>"I have heard scraps of information at times," said Ruth, trying to -get out of the unpleasant position in which her tongue had placed her. -"But I know very little; I don't want to have anything to do with the -matter. Please don't ask me anything more about it aunt."</p> - -<p>"You have said so much that I must know all," said Mrs. Marshall, so -fiercely that the girl was frightened. "If you refuse to tell me, I -shall speak to your father."</p> - -<p>"He is the very best person to whom you could speak," replied Miss -Cass, with some defiance in her voice, for her temper was rising at her -aunt's tone. "But please don't bring me into it."</p> - -<p>"I shall act as I think best. If this case has been reopened--as I -judge from your words, it has been--why was I not informed?</p> - -<p>"I refer you to papa," said Ruth, coldly. "And, after all," she added, -"I do not see what you have to do with it, Aunt Inez."</p> - -<p>"More than you think," replied Mrs. Marshall, tightening her thin lips.</p> - -<p>Then Ruth did a very foolish thing--a thing she repented of for many -a long day after. "What about Job?" she asked. "Does he also take an -interest in the case?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall sprang forward in the most dramatic fashion, and seized -her niece by the arm. "You have been asking him questions," she said.</p> - -<p>"And what if I have?" cried the girl, twisting herself away. "Anyone -has a right to ask questions, I suppose? But he told me nothing."</p> - -<p>"He had nothing to tell."</p> - -<p>"In that case you need not look so fiercely at me, aunt."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall realised how indiscreet was her demeanour.</p> - -<p>"Don't trouble about me, child," she said, with a forced laugh. "I have -done nothing to be ashamed of."</p> - -<p>"I never thought you had, aunt!"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Jenner," continued Aunt Inez, exactly as though she were -repeating a lesson, "was a flirt. When she married a brute, she only -got her just punishment. I did my best to be kind to her; but I always -hated her. It is no use my denying the fact--I did hate her! If you are -a woman, Ruth, if you have your grandmother's blood in your veins, you -will understand."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes," said the girl, proudly conscious of her own tiger blood, "I -can quite understand. I should like to see any woman take Geoffrey from -me! Aha!" And she growled like a playful cat.</p> - -<p>"I believe Mrs. Jenner killed her husband," continued Aunt Inez, taking -no notice of this speech, "and she is being punished for it. As to -Job--I merely assist him out of charity; he knows nothing about the -murder; it had happened before he came to these parts. Now, are you -satisfied?"</p> - -<p>"My dear aunt, I never wanted to be satisfied," replied the girl. "I -never thought you knew anything about the murder."</p> - -<p>"I don't--I don't! I swear I don't!" cried Mrs. Marshall. "But this red -pocket-book--it was not mentioned at the trial."</p> - -<p>"I know nothing about it," said Ruth, promptly; she was not going to be -drawn into the discussion. "Ask papa about it."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall, seeing she would get nothing further out of her niece, -returned to the examination of the lumber which was scattered over -the floor of the garret. "Then we will go down shortly and have some -tea, my dear," she said, in her most amiable tone. She was evidently -desirous of effacing the impression of her former fierceness.</p> - -<p>Ruth wondered but little at her aunt's strange demeanour.</p> - -<p>In a meditative way she watched Mrs. Marshall moving about on the other -side of the garret, so close under the slope of the roof that her head -touched it. There were two windows--one at each end, but these were so -dirty that the place was enveloped in a kind of brown twilight which -had, at first, prevented the girl from seeing plainly. As her eyes grew -more accustomed to the semi-gloom, she examined the lumber that was -piled up on all sides. All the scum of the house had risen to the top -and been left in this isolated attic. It was filled with the wreckage -which will accumulate even in the most orderly houses. There were, -also, ancient books, piles of newspapers, and suchlike things huddled -together pell-mell, and over all lay a thick, grey dust.</p> - -<p>Suddenly as Ruth, growing tired of waiting, shifted her position, -the light from the window behind struck out a patch of red. Her eyes -wandered mechanically towards the colour. It was the red morocco -binding of a narrow book which protruded from the heap. Hardly thinking -what she was doing, the girl picked it up, and with the light from -behind her strong upon it she examined it minutely. Then her heart -seemed to stand still, for it was a pocket-book--perhaps the very red -pocket-book which had been stolen by Jenner's murderer, and of which -they had been speaking only a few minutes before.</p> - -<p>Anxious to make quite certain as to this, Ruth slipped off the elastic -strap and examined the discoloured leaves. For the most part they were -blank, but written on the front page was a name, and the name was -Jenner!</p> - -<p>At the sight Ruth uttered a cry. Mrs. Marshall turned sharply.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_25" href="#div1Ref_25">CHAPTER XXV.</a></h4> -<h5>THE RED POCKET-BOOK.</h5> -<br> - -<p>"What is the matter, child?" asked Mrs. Marshall, sharply.</p> - -<p>But Ruth could not answer. She sat with the red pocket-book in her -lap, gazing upon it as though it were a viper. Aunt Inez repeated -her question impatiently then, surprised at her niece's silence, she -crossed the garret. Her eyes fell at once on the red book, and for a -few seconds no word was spoken. Then at last Ruth made a remark, and -made it in a hushed voice, as though she feared it might be heard by -others than the frozen woman before her.</p> - -<p>"It was not produced at the trial," was what she said, looking at her -aunt.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall might have been a granite image for all the movement she -made. Her face was like snow, her eyes fixed as though she were in a -cataleptic state. And so she was--for the moment. Only when Ruth, who -was the first to recover herself, made a motion to rise did she shew -any signs of life. She sighed deeply and removed her eyes from the book.</p> - -<p>"I will shew it to my father," said the girl; whereat her aunt changed -suddenly into a creature of fire. She snatched at the pocket-book and -had it in her grasp before Ruth could close her fingers upon it.</p> - -<p>"You will shew it to no one," she said, thrusting it into her pocket. -"I forbid you to say a word."</p> - -<p>"Tell me how it came to be here, and I will consider if it is right for -me to be silent."</p> - -<p>"I will explain nothing. Girl, what demon brought you here and shewed -you that book? I came up here to look for it; I have been searching -for over an hour. You came in and found it in a few minutes. It is -fate--fate."</p> - -<p>"Aunt Inez," Ruth drew back until she was standing up against the wall, -"you--oh, no!--you did not--did not--kill the man!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall shrugged her shoulders, her colour and her courage coming -back to her almost as she spoke. "You are at liberty to think so if you -like. I will not contradict you. No, indeed. I have other things to do."</p> - -<p>"Will you contradict my father?"</p> - -<p>"I forbid you to tell your father of this."</p> - -<p>"I must! I will know the truth of this matter. There is an innocent -woman in gaol for----"</p> - -<p>"An innocent woman!" interrupted her aunt, with contempt. "Oh, yes, -very innocent!" She paused and looked at Ruth. "Come downstairs," she -said. "As you have found what I wanted, we need not remain here."</p> - -<p>"You knew that this book was hidden here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I have known it for years."</p> - -<p>"Why did you not produce it at the trial?"</p> - -<p>"That is my business."</p> - -<p>"How did it come into your possession?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! that I refuse to tell you. Think me guilty if you like. It is -evident you want to smirch our family name. But I have had enough of -this nonsense. You must hold your tongue."</p> - -<p>"To all persons save my father. I must tell him, and I will."</p> - -<p>"I forbid you."</p> - -<p>"It is no use your forbidding me. I tell my father. He has the honour -of the family quite as at heart as you have; and he is the man to -decide what should be done."</p> - -<p>"You will tell?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I am going straight home to tell all."</p> - -<p>The eyes of the two women met, and for a moment there was a duel of -wills. Then Ruth, with her more youthful fire, got the upper hand; her -aunt turned away.</p> - -<p>"You are bringing me into great danger," she said; "but have it your -own way. Tell your father."</p> - -<p>"Aunt! You did not kill the man?"</p> - -<p>"Think so if you like."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall passed out of the garret. Ruth remained a moment -to recover her self-control which had been sorely shaken by this -extraordinary conversation. Then she also went down the stairs to the -inhabited portion of the house. Mrs. Marshall was not to be seen; and -on inquiring of the servant, Ruth learnt that she had locked herself -in her bedroom and refused to see anyone. In this dilemma there was -nothing left for the girl but to go home, which she proceeded to do -feeling sick at heart.</p> - -<p>On the way to Hollyoaks a sudden thought struck her. Suppose her -aunt were guilty--suppose she had shut herself in her room to commit -suicide! If she had not been almost at the gates of the park when this -occurred to her she would have run back. But the best thing she could -do now was to see her father and implore him to go to Aunt Inez at -once. She felt there was no time to be lost, and ran up the avenue as -quickly as she could. The window of the library which opened on to the -terrace was ajar, so taking this as a short cut she ran up the steps on -to the terrace and flung herself into the room with a white and haggard -face.</p> - -<p>"Ruth! What is the matter? Ruth!" cried Mr. Cass, and sprang forward -just in time to catch her in his arms. For a minute or so she could not -speak, but when speech did come the words poured out in a torrent.</p> - -<p>"Aunt Inez," she cried. "I went to see her. She was in the garret; -there I found the red pocket-book--Jenner's book--which was stolen! She -will not say if she killed him; yet she knew that the book was in the -garret. Oh, see her at once, father--at once! She has locked herself -in her bedroom. I believe that she will kill herself!" and the excited -girl burst into tears of exhaustion and terror.</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass said nothing, but put her into a chair. Indeed, he did not -know what to say, or even what to think, for he felt completely -stunned. He had suspected Marshall, but never Inez. Even now he did not -believe that she could ever have brought herself to commit such a crime.</p> - -<p>"Go! Go!" cried Ruth, wringing her hands. "Aunt Inez--you may be too -late! She will kill herself, I know she will!"</p> - -<p>"No fear of that," said her father, recovering himself somewhat. "She -is not the woman to give up the fight in that way, Inez. No, she never -killed that beast--never!"</p> - -<p>"But, father, the red pocket-book----"</p> - -<p>"She will be able to explain how she came by it. She has a temper, and -is fierce enough when she is roused; but she would not go so far as -that. As to committing suicide, she has no reason for doing that, if -she is innocent."</p> - -<p>"I hope she is. Oh, I hope she is" wailed Ruth, distracted with terror.</p> - -<p>Her father saw that the girl was thoroughly overwrought. In her present -state of mind everything would be exaggerated. He intended to go at -once and learn the truth from his sister, but he could not leave Ruth -in this plight. Before he went he must soothe her. So, pulling himself -together--no easy task, at his age, for he had received a severe -shock--he sat down beside the terrified girl and took her hand firmly -in his own. "See here, child," he said, "however that book got into -Marshall's hands your aunt had nothing to do with it. She did not--she -could not have killed Jenner. I know it because she was in this house -on the night and at the time of the murder."</p> - -<p>"Then if she is innocent why didn't she tell me so?"</p> - -<p>"Well, you know what she is. No doubt she was angry to think you -should conceive her capable of such a crime. She will tell me all she -knows, if she has any knowledge, which I am inclined to doubt. But I -want you to understand, Ruth, that your aunt is innocent, and that her -innocence can be proved by me. Under these circumstances, she will not -commit suicide, as you appear to think. I will go over and see her at -once, and I shall doubtless have a reassuring report to give you when -I return. But you must promise not to worry while I am away; and above -all things, Ruth, do not tell anyone of this. There may be trouble."</p> - -<p>"I will say nothing--nothing," panted the girl, pressing her hands -against her beating heart. "And, indeed, father, I did not meddle with -the matter again. The discovery was thrust upon me. You can trust me, -indeed you can."</p> - -<p>"And you will not make yourself ill with expecting the worst?"</p> - -<p>"No, no; I promise I will go to my room and lie down."</p> - -<p>"That's a good girl; and I will walk over at once."</p> - -<p>"Ride--ride! You don't know what may happen."</p> - -<p>"Nothing bad, at all events. Yes, I will ride. Now go to your room, -dear, and leave me to attend to this."</p> - -<p>"Yes, father," she said, faintly. She had the utmost belief in his -capability of arranging the situation. "But kiss me before you go. I -am--I am rather frightened."</p> - -<p>"Believe me, there is no need for that," said Mr. Cass, with an attempt -at a smile. "There is your kiss, now go."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass reviewed the whole situation as he rode over to his sister's -house. He reflected that Marshall must have told his wife about the -bill, for that and the book were, so to speak, inseparable.</p> - -<p>"In a word," thought Mr. Cass, as he dismounted at the door and gave -his horse to a groom, "Marshall did not kill the man himself, but he -knows who did. But I'll make Inez tell truth in some way. This is no -time to consider her feelings."</p> - -<p>Following the servant, he went into the stone-coloured drawing-room, -and found his sister waiting to receive him. She was dressed in black, -without a scrap of white to relieve her funereal aspect.</p> - -<p>"I did not expect you to come so soon, Sebastian," she said, in her -rich, low voice. "But I knew you would come sooner or later."</p> - -<p>"I could hardly help coming after what Ruth told me." Her brother was -surprised at her composure.</p> - -<p>"What did she tell you?"</p> - -<p>"That the red pocket-book belonging to Jenner had been found by her in -this house."</p> - -<p>"To be particular, the garret," said Mrs. Marshall, pointing to the -table. "There it is."</p> - -<p>He looked at it with repugnance, and touched it gingerly. Then he -opened it, glanced at the name, and laid it down with a sigh. There was -no doubt it had been Jenner's property, the name was clear enough. "How -did it come into your possession?" he asked, sharply.</p> - -<p>"That is not an easy question for me to answer."</p> - -<p>"Yet it can be answered, and must be, answered."</p> - -<p>"How do you know that I will comply with your 'must'?" she asked, with -scorn.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I know you are hard to drive, but in this case you must speak out. -I have the means to make you, that is if you have any regard for your -husband."</p> - -<p>"You know how I love him, little as he deserves it. You are talking -of the bill. Oh, don't look so astonished. Frank told me of his -conversation with you. It was by my advice that he went away."</p> - -<p>"Inez, is it possible you can love so base a creature?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall sighed. "To you, Sebastian, I will say things I would not -say to any other person. Little as we love one another, still we are -brother and sister. I know you would do much for me."</p> - -<p>"I would do anything for you, Inez; blood is stronger than water, after -all. And you can speak freely to me, your honour is my honour. I can -hold my tongue. Speak out freely," he repeated.</p> - -<p>"I will," she said, and gave him the kindest look that had been in her -eyes for many a long year.</p> - -<p>"You know how madly in love I was with Frank when I married him. It was -not love, it was infatuation I believed him to be the most perfect and -the most misunderstood man in the whole world. I blamed you for getting -him out of the business, and I thought to repair your wrong by marrying -him. Well, I did; and then what happened?"</p> - -<p>"I can guess. The scales fell from your eyes."</p> - -<p>"They did, within six months. For even then he deceived me. Yes, after -all I had done for him. I had made him rich. I had--but that comes -later on in the story. Suffice it to say, that I soon found out that I -had married a faithless brute."</p> - -<p>"Why did you not get rid of him? I would have helped you."</p> - -<p>She cast a look around the dismal room and smiled strangely. "Because I -had committed a sin. I came to look upon Frank as the cross laid upon -me for the expiation of that sin."</p> - -<p>"Good Heavens, Inez! You don't mean to say you killed Jenner? No! What -nonsense am I talking? You were in bed on that night."</p> - -<p>"I did not kill Jenner," she said, calmly. "Nevertheless I had -committed a sin; you shall hear all in good time. Well, I took Frank -as my cross, and put up all these years with his infidelities, and -drunkenness, and wickedness. I behaved to him as though I still loved -him. I have deceived everyone."</p> - -<p>"You certainly deceived me for one," said Mr. Cass, bluntly. "I thought -you still loved the creature."</p> - -<p>"Loved him! Why, I hated him with all my soul. It was only my religious -principles, and my desire to expiate my sin, that made me tolerate him."</p> - -<p>"In Heaven's name, what is your sin?"</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you soon enough," she said. "But do not be afraid. I have -not dipped my hands in blood. Let me tell my story in my own way. It is -not easy for me to tell it at all. I only do so now in order to avert, -worse trouble."</p> - -<p>Knowing her obstinacy, her brother saw that it was useless to protest. -"Go on," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Have your own way."</p> - -<p>"I often wish we had kept to our mother's faith," continued Mrs. -Marshall. "She was of the true Church, and Catholicism is such a -comforting religion. One has a confessor; that would have done me good. -I have often longed to confess and relieve my mind."</p> - -<p>"Why did you not confess to me?"</p> - -<p>"I had no reason for making you my confidant, Sebastian," she said, -icily. "Well, I was of the Protestant faith, and could not confess, so -I had to bear my own sorrow as best I could. Frank tried me at times -with his dreadful ways, but I had a whip to manage him."</p> - -<p>"What was the whip?" asked Mr. Cass, struck by the fact that she used -almost the same phrase that he had used to her husband.</p> - -<p>"I will tell you shortly; but I mortified my flesh in every way. Look -at this house. You know how I love pretty things, and yet I spend my -life in the midst of these horrors. I am fond of----"</p> - -<p>"See here, Inez," broke in her brother, "I want I to know about this -pocket-book. You can tell me your feelings later."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_26" href="#div1Ref_26">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></h4> -<h5>THE PENANCE OF INEZ.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Sebastian's abrupt interruption of his sister's enthusiastic confession -was as a douche of cold water on glowing iron. The iron forthwith -cooled; that is to say, Mrs. Marshall, from flesh and blood, became -stone again.</p> - -<p>"Of course I will tell you all you wish to know," she said, in even -tones, with about as much feeling as might have been expected from a -cuckoo. "But since you will not let me tell my story in my own way, I -think it is best that you should put your own questions, then I shall -know precisely what you do want."</p> - -<p>"Don't be angry!" entreated her brother; "but tell me all for the sake -of the family. Where did you learn that Frank had committed forgery?"</p> - -<p>"At the Waggoner's Pond."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass started from his seat and stared down at his sister in -surprise. He remembered what Marshall had told him about that -appointment at the Waggoner's Pond. "What!" he cried. "Were you out -on the night of the murder? Did you overhear the conversation between -Marshall and Jenner?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, it was Jenner, was it?" she said, quite composedly. "Well, I -guessed as much, though I could never be quite sure."</p> - -<p>"Didn't your husband tell you that he had met him by the Waggoner's -Pond?"</p> - -<p>She looked up with scorn and contempt.</p> - -<p>"Frank never told me anything but what was wrung out of him by fear. -Besides, we did not speak of these things. Like him, I preferred to let -sleeping dogs lie."</p> - -<p>Her brother had taken his seat again, and, deep in thought, paid little -attention to what she was saying. "I thought you were in bed on that -night with a headache?"</p> - -<p>"A woman's excuse," she said, coolly. "I had no headache; but I had -a very keen desire to find out why Frank had an appointment on that -night, and with whom. I suspected another woman--you can guess her -name."</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Jenner? Ah, but he did not go out to meet her!" cried Mr. Cass, -impatiently. "He had an appointment with her husband."</p> - -<p>"I found that out later. But I heard him asking one of the servants -where the Waggoner's Pond was, and if he could find it in the dark. I -knew then that he intended to go there that night for some purpose. -The name of Mrs. Jenner was not mentioned; but as she was in the -neighbourhood--well, you know what a woman's feelings are!"</p> - -<p>"You jumped to conclusions?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; they were wrong, but that did not matter. At all events, I was -satisfied that he did not meet the woman. I slipped out of a side -door unknown to everyone; my headache was a pretext that I might -be at the meeting-place. Had he done so, I would have broken off -the engagement--yes, much as I loved him, or rather, much as I was -infatuated--I would have broken it off at the eleventh hour had he put -such an insult on me!"</p> - -<p>"And yet you married him?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, what is the use of that parrot-cry?" she said, impatiently. "You -have already said that five or six times."</p> - -<p>"Because I am so amazed that your pride did not come to your aid when -you knew the use to which he intended to put your money. To him you -were not the woman he loved--but the banker upon whom he intended to -draw."</p> - -<p>"And yet I married him," she said, with a cold smile. "Women are -strange creatures, I confess. Yet you always considered me proud. See -how mistaken you were! I had more weakness than you thought me capable -of possessing. I was wildly--madly in love with him. At all events, I -intended to marry him, and what is more, I intended to get back that -incriminating bill from Jenner without the expenditure of a penny. I -saw that he had replaced it in his red pocket-book; well, I made up my -mind that I would get that pocket-book."</p> - -<p>"Yet you never guessed the man was Jenner!" remarked her brother, -ironically.</p> - -<p>"I was suspicious, but not certain. However, I did not go after Jenner -at once, for I knew where to find him. I wanted Frank to be out of the -way before I left my hiding-place--I was behind a hedge--and not alone."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by that?" asked Mr. Cass, startled.</p> - -<p>"I mean what I say. Several times, while I was crouching in the wet -grass, I heard the breathing of someone no great distance off. Well, I -found that other person."</p> - -<p>"When--some time afterwards?"</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, the person threw himself in my way within -half-an-hour after I was on my way to the Turnpike House."</p> - -<p>"Wait a moment!" cried Mr. Cass, with suppressed excitement. "I know who -it was--the gypsy, Job."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" replied Mrs. Marshall, without betraying much surprise. "Ruth -told you something!"</p> - -<p>"Geoffrey did: Ruth had told him."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall rose with a bound. "And pray what has Mr. Heron to do -with this matter?"</p> - -<p>"A good deal," rejoined her brother, drily. "You may as well sit down, -Inez. Geoffrey is perfectly discreet. He is going to marry Ruth, you -know: it will be as much to his interest as mine to keep this affair -secret. Well, so you met this gypsy blackguard?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, half-way on the road to the Turnpike House. In spite of the -darkness and the mist, he knew me in a moment--instinct, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"How could he have met you? Had you met him before?"</p> - -<p>"Lots of times. I knew the Romany dialect, and used to talk to Job."</p> - -<p>"I realty wonder at you, Inez, taking up with such scum! As for Ruth, -I'll talk to her! She shall have nothing more to do with him."</p> - -<p>"Oh, as to that," remarked his sister, shrugging her shoulders, "the -creature is dying; he is consumptive, and is drinking himself to -death. I have placed him in the Turnpike House--without Mr. Heron's -permission, by the way--and I allow him a small sum a week so that he -may die in peace."</p> - -<p>"So that you may keep your secret, you mean."</p> - -<p>"It will soon be a secret no longer. Job, as I say, knew me. He told me -that he had been sleeping behind the hedge--near me, I suppose--and had -been aroused by the sound of voices. He recognised Frank's voice, for -he had often spoken to him; but Jenner he did not know, any more than I -did."</p> - -<p>"Naturally. Jenner was a comparative stranger in these parts. Go on."</p> - -<p>"Well, Job had heard all about, the red pocket-book and the bill. I saw -in a twinkling that here was the instrument I required; I promised him -twenty pounds if he would get me that red pocket-book."</p> - -<p>"Inez! Did you send the man to murder Jenner?"</p> - -<p>"No, I did not. I never thought he would goo so far as that. And, as a -matter of fact. Job has always denied to me that he struck the blow."</p> - -<p>"He certainly would tell you that to save his neck!"</p> - -<p>"Well, after I had made this arrangement with him and had told him that -Jenner was at the Turnpike House, I returned home. I entered by the -side door and slipped up to my room without anyone being the wiser."</p> - -<p>"I certainly was not," said her brother. "You are quite a diplomatist, -Inez. What about Job's murdering mission?"</p> - -<p>"He did not commit the murder," insisted Mrs. Marshall. "He came next -day and brought me the pocket-book. I opened it, but could not find the -bill; then I accused Job of having taken it. He grinned, but would say -nothing. You understand, Sebastian, he had not got the bill; but he -wanted to have me in his power."</p> - -<p>"I see; but you could have turned the tables on him by having him -arrested for the crime."</p> - -<p>"No, he knew of the bill--of Frank's disgrace. I thought, if he were -arrested, he would tell all, which he certainly would have done; then -Frank would have been prosecuted. Remember, I thought Job had the bill! -All these years I have believed he had it in his possession; you do not -know the blackmail I have paid that man! He was always worrying me for -money. At last, seeing he was ill, I put him into the Turnpike House, -and--well, I have told you all that. But now you know why I assisted -him."</p> - -<p>"Assisted a murderer?"</p> - -<p>"Job denied that he had killed the man."</p> - -<p>"Then how did he get the pocket-book?"</p> - -<p>"He said that he had met Jenner before he got to the Turnpike House, -and robbed him of the book."</p> - -<p>"That is a lie!" cried Mr. Cass; "and a feeble lie to boot. Jenner had -the book when he was in that room--before he was killed Mrs. Jenner -said that the book was on the table near the window; and my own opinion -is that the blow must have been struck through the window and the book -stolen."</p> - -<p>"But why believe Mrs. Jenner more than Job?"</p> - -<p>"I will tell you all. The bill was in the pocket-book; you yourself -saw Jenner put it there. Well, he thought Marshall might steal that -bill, so he sewed it up in the body of a toy horse with which his child -was playing. Neil kept the horse, and a short time ago he sent it to -George, who cut the animal open. The bill was found, and is now in -my possession. So, you see, Job could not have taken the pocket-book -which contained the bill before Jenner got to the house. He must have -murdered the man and stolen the book after the bill had been placed -inside the horse.</p> - -<p>"But nothing of all this came out at the trial."</p> - -<p>"No one knew anything about it--least of all Mrs. Jenner. But now you -are satisfied that Job committed that murder?"</p> - -<p>"I suppose so; it looks like it. Oh, the wretch, to let me think all -these years that he had the bill, and that he was innocent of killing -the man!"</p> - -<p>"Had you no suspicion of his guilt?"</p> - -<p>She thought for a moment. "I confess I had," she said, after a pause, -"but, you see, I had to put all such suspicions behind my back. If I -had denounced Job, I thought he would have produced the bill and ruined -Frank."</p> - -<p>"I see. Well, here is the bill. No one knows of it but Heron, and he -will say nothing. I thought of keeping it as a useful whip for your -husband, should he treat you cruelly. But now that I find you do not -care for him, I think it had better be destroyed."</p> - -<p>"No," she said, putting it into her pocket, "I will keep it, to hold -over Frank myself. I hate him, and would gladly divorce him--which I -could easily do. But I am as proud of the family name as you are, and -I do not want a scandal. So I shall not separate from him; but now I -shall know how to make him behave himself." She tapped her pocket with -a grim smile.</p> - -<p>"Did you ever speak to him about the red pocket-book?"</p> - -<p>"No, he never knew I had it. I put it away, and afterwards sent it up -to the garret, where I thought it would be safe. Hardly anyone ever -goes there but myself. Besides, if I had told Frank, he would have -worried Job about giving him the bill, and Heaven only knows what would -have happened then. No, I was wrong, I suppose, but I acted for the -best. When Frank told me that he had seen you, and that the bill was -in your possession, I went up to the garret, intending to find the -pocket-book and destroy it. Then I was foolish enough to ask Ruth; she -found it by chance--and--well, you know the rest."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know the rest," said Mr. Cass, grimly; "and, among other -things. I know that Job Lovell killed Jenner, and that the dead man's -unhappy wife has been punished all these years. Inez, I know you always -hated her, but would you have let her lose her life?"</p> - -<p>"No; if she had been in danger of that, I would have come forward and -told all I knew, even at the cost of disgrace; I would not have had -the blood of a fellow-creature on my soul. But, to tell you the truth, -Sebastian, as Mrs. Jenner did not defend herself, I really believed she -was guilty, and Job innocent. He confessed to having robbed Jenner; she -would say nothing; so of the two, I thought Job the innocent one. Can -you blame me?"</p> - -<p>"Partly. I blame you for not having told me this long ago. I always -suspected your husband. Now I know that he is innocent; and I should -have known it all along, seeing that he was in the house--in my -house--when the crime was committed. If you had spoken out, I would -have managed to get Mrs. Jenner off in some way without exposing the -whole of this dreadful story. Job should be punished."</p> - -<p>"Think what that would mean to us all," said his sister, warningly.</p> - -<p>"I will contrive to evade the worst. But I must have that poor woman -released!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_27" href="#div1Ref_27">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></h4> -<h5>A DOUBTFUL WITNESS.</h5> -<br> - -<p>His sister's attitude puzzled Mr. Cass less than might have been -expected.</p> - -<p>On leaving her he went straight to the Turnpike House to interview the -gypsy.</p> - -<p>The first thing was to get the truth out of Job; then he would try to -arrive at some settlement of the question which would be satisfactory -to the world, to justice, and to his conscience.</p> - -<p>The door of the house was closed when he rode up. He dismounted, gave -his horse to his groom, and told the man to take him home.</p> - -<p>"I have to see this gypsy," he explained. "I find he is here without -Mr. Heron's permission. I shall probably remain some time, and I don't -want Sultan to get cold. Go home."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said the man, and then ventured to add a few words on his -own account. "Shan't I wait, sir? Joe Lovel is a rough customer."</p> - -<p>"I know," Mr. Cass said, calmly. "I am prepared for that. I shall -return in an hour, more or less. If Mr. Heron should come to Hollyoaks, -ask him to wait for me."</p> - -<p>The man rode off, leading his master's horse. Mr. Cass waited until -they were out of sight, then knocked vigorously at the door. There was -no response.</p> - -<p>A third knock, or, rather, a perfect battery of knocks, proved that -Job was at home. From within came the growl of a waking beast--a -beast angry at being disturbed; and shortly afterwards the door was -wrenched open by no very gentle hand. The gypsy, with his red-rimmed -eyes blinking from under a thatch of disordered hair, stood on the -threshold. Mr. Cass took in his condition at a glance.</p> - -<p>"Are you not ashamed to be drunk at this time of day?" he asked. "What -do you mean by it?"</p> - -<p>"It is none of your business," growled Job, who had slept off the worst -effects of his debauch.</p> - -<p>"It is my business. I am Mr. Cass."</p> - -<p>"I know you are," retorted the man, still blocking the doorway. "But -that doesn't give you the right to come knocking at my door. 'Tisn't -your house."</p> - -<p>"It is Mr. Heron's house." Mr. Cass said, sharply; "and I have -sufficient influence with Mr. Heron to have you kicked out into the -cold if you do not behave yourself."</p> - -<p>"I shouldn't do that if I were you," said the ruffian, with a sinister -smile. "Others may find themselves out in the cold too. Aye, my gorgeous -Gentile--bigger folk nor the poor Romany."</p> - -<p>This was plainly a threat levelled at Mrs. Marshall, as her brother -clearly saw. However, it was not his intention to quarrel with the man -until he had got the truth out of him. "You speak in riddles," he said, -"but perhaps you will stand aside and let me enter."</p> - -<p>"What for?" asked Job, suspiciously.</p> - -<p>"You shall hear my business when I am within."</p> - -<p>The gypsy began to cough, and the paroxysm was so violent that he had -to hold on to the door-post.</p> - -<p>"Well, sir," said Job, at length, somewhat sobered by a fit of -coughing; "come in. I ain't the one to keep a Romany Rye out of my -tent."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass entered, and followed the man into the sitting-room in which -Jenner had been murdered by--so far as Mr. Cass knew--its present -occupant. As he entered he became conscious of a strong smell of -petroleum, and, making a sudden pause, "Have you upset your lamp?" he -asked.</p> - -<p>"No, I ain't upset anything," said Job, sulkily. "The smell, is it? Oh, -that's my business. I've got an idea that ain't nothing to do with you. -Sit down and tell me what's the row. I know, though. It's your young -lady. Well, I haven't done her no harm; she's a sister to me, because -she patters the black lingo. Has she been setting your back up, Rye?"</p> - -<p>"My visit has nothing to do with Miss Cass," said her father, sharply. -"Leave her name out of the question. I know all about her visit to you -and how you behaved. I am not blaming you. But my business here has to -do with a very serious matter. Perhaps you can guess my errand when I -tell you that I come from Mrs. Marshall."</p> - -<p>The mere mention of that name drove the remaining fumes of drink from -the gypsy's head, and he cast a sharp glance at his visitor. Mr. Cass -sustained this scrutiny with the greatest calmness, and, finding the -smell of the petroleum quite unbearable, threw open the window and -placed his chair close beside it so that he could breathe freely. Then -he turned round and looked again at the man. Job, open-mouthed at these -liberties taken with his domestic arrangements, stared insolently at -Mr. Cass; but at length he found his tongue. "You'll give me my death," -he grumbled. "I want that window shut."</p> - -<p>"You shall not have it shut, then," said Mr. Cass, coolly. "The air -here is horrible with the smell of that petroleum, whatever you are -doing with it. Sit down over there, and you will be out of the draught. -I have something serious to say to you."</p> - -<p>"So you said before," growled Job, surrendering the point of the window -and pitching himself on to a broken-backed chair. "What's she up to -now?"</p> - -<p>"If you are speaking of Mrs. Marshall, be more respectful," Mr. Cass -said, angrily. "However you may have intimidated her, you ruffian, you -cannot deal with me in the same way. I'll make an example of you!"</p> - -<p>"Ha! ha! You touch me at your peril!" retorted Job, who was getting -exasperated.</p> - -<p>"At your peril, you mean! Now, then, my man, no equivocation, but a -plain confession. Out with it!"</p> - -<p>"Confession? What have I to confess, my Gentile cove?"</p> - -<p>"Be respectful, I tell you, or I'll lay my whip across your shoulders! -'What have you to confess about,' you ask? If the walls of this -shambles could speak they might tell you, not but what you know well -enough what I mean."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" cried the man, his eyes glittering. "She's blown the gaff."</p> - -<p>"Precisely. And it should have been blown long ago. You blackmailing -beast! Now, then, I'm here to learn the truth."</p> - -<p>"Oh, she's not told it to you, then?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, she has. But I want it confirmed by you."</p> - -<p>"What am I to confirm?" asked the gypsy, with a savage oath.</p> - -<p>"The story of how you murdered Jenner in this room!"</p> - -<p>He started from his seat with a howl, and flung himself towards Mr. -Cass. But the merchant was ready for this, and pushing back his chair -sprang to his feet. Job found himself recoiling before the barrel of a -revolver. "You get back to your seat, or I'll blow your brains out!" -said Mr. Cass, and said it with such ferocity that the ruffian crawled -back like a whipped dog. But, then, Mr. Cass had the blood of many a -slave-owning Spaniard in his veins, and was much more savage than an -ordinary Anglo-Saxon. "Do you think I would trust myself here without -protection, you wretch?" he asked, resuming his seat. "No; you move, -and I shoot. I am less English than Spanish, let me tell you; and -perhaps I do not consider my actions so carefully as the people of this -country."</p> - -<p>"You re a fierce one, you are, anyway," grumbled the man, climbing up -to his seat with an uneasy eye on the weapon which still covered him. -"My sister is just like you, plucky as a bantam, she is."</p> - -<p>"Which sister do you mean, Mrs. Marshall or Miss Cass? You have two, -you know, adopted sisters?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, she told you that, did she?" said Job, rubbing his head, and -evidently perplexed at the extent of his visitor's knowledge. "Well, it -seems you know a lot, you do!"</p> - -<p>"Enough to hang you," was the curt reply.</p> - -<p>"That's a lie!" shouted Job. "I didn't lay a finger on him."</p> - -<p>"Then how did you become possessed of the red pocket-book?"</p> - -<p>The gypsy started, and gave Mr. Cass another of his keen glances. He -did not reply immediately, but seemed to be reflecting. At length, "How -do I know you are not laying a trap for me? The business I had with the -high-born Gentile lady concerns her only. She has not told me to speak -of hidden things to you."</p> - -<p>"If you don't tell me--and tell me quickly too--you will have to reply -to a magistrate."</p> - -<p>"What magistrate, rye?"</p> - -<p>"The one before whom I will bring you," was a the quiet answer. -"Understand that I have sufficient evidence in my possession to have you -arrested on suspicion of having murdered the man Jenner. For reasons -which you will doubtless appreciate, I am willing to deal gently with -you. But," he raised a threatening finger, "only on condition that you -make a clean breast of all to me--and at once."</p> - -<p>"Anything you do to me, rye, will harm your sister. I hold something -which can break her heart."</p> - -<p>"The bill of exchange you heard Marshall talking about to Jenner?"</p> - -<p>Job fell back in amazement. "You do know all! Yes; I hold the bill--the -forged bill--which can put in prison----"</p> - -<p>"No one. That is quite enough; you need tell no more lies. You got -possession of the pocket-book----"</p> - -<p>"Yes; and I took the bill out before I gave it to the lady."</p> - -<p>"I see," said Mr. Cass tranquilly, although he marvelled at the daring -of the man. "And you made use of your assertion that you had possession -of the bill to blackmail Mrs. Marshall?"</p> - -<p>"I only got a little money out of her, my Gentile. She has been kind to -me, and she has given me this house to die in."</p> - -<p>"Then the sooner you die the better. You are no good to anyone, so far -as I can see. You scoundrel!--to blackmail a lady! She believed you--I -do not.</p> - -<p>"You don't believe I have the bill?" asked Job, incredulously.</p> - -<p>"No; for if you had you would shew it to me."</p> - -<p>"I will not. Why should I?"</p> - -<p>"You cannot shew it to me! I thought as much."</p> - -<p>"Hey! You think so, rye! Then if I haven't the bill, who has?"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Marshall; for I gave it to her to-day."</p> - -<p>"It is--a lie! a lie!" Job was quite pale now; he saw that his last -card was played, and that he had now very little hold--but still -some--over Mrs. Marshall.</p> - -<p>"It the truth. The bill was taken out of that pocket-book by Jenner -in this room, and placed in hiding. I need not explain where. It is -sufficient for you to know that the bill came into my possession, and -that I gave it to my sister. Your teeth are drawn, tiger!"</p> - -<p>The gypsy saw--that he was beaten, and began to whine. Although he -already bore the impress of death, he did not want to be turned out to -die in the open fields. "What do you want to know, honourable rye?" he -asked, in fawning tones, for he wanted to propitiate the man who could -make a tramp of him. "I will tell you all--all. You know so much that--"</p> - -<p>"Now, then," interrupted Mr. Cass, impatiently, "where did you get the -red pocket-book? Did you snatch it through this window at which I am -sitting and kill Jenner to get it?"</p> - -<p>"No, rye, I swear I did not. I was not near this house; I got the -pocket-book from Jenner."</p> - -<p>"You liar! The bill was in the book when Jenner came to this house, and -if you had stolen it, the bill would have remained there. Jenner did -not leave the house again; he died here."</p> - -<p>Job scratched his head; he was puzzled. "Well, I thought it was Jenner, -rye; if it wasn't him, then who was it?"</p> - -<p>"Marshall--you attacked Marshall on that night. Oh, I know! You tore -his cuff and stole his sleeve-links; and one was found under this very -window. You dropped it there, you murderer!"</p> - -<p>"I ain't a murderer, I tell you," growled the man, getting angry. "I did -try to get some tin out of that Marshall cove; but that was afore I met -Mrs. Marshall. I was sleeping behind a hedge, and I heard Marshall and -Jenner jawing; I listened, and heard all. When they parted I thought -I'd drop on Marshall, rye, and get some money. I was poor and he was -rich. He put out his arms to fight, and I did grab his wrist; but I -didn't steal his links, I swear! Then I heard someone coming, and I ran -away, while he went home. I came back to the Waggoner's Pond and then -followed the lady. I knew she was hiding not far from me in the hedge."</p> - -<p>"How could you tell that, in the mist and darkness?"</p> - -<p>"I've eyes like a cat, and can see through stones," said Job, in a -sulky tone. "Black don't make no difference to me. I knew her, I -tell you rye and thought she go after Jenner and get that bill for -Marshall's sake."</p> - -<p>"Why for Marshall's sake?" asked Mr. Cass, coldly.</p> - -<p>"'Cause I heard she was going to be his rani--marry him, as you -Gentiles call it. I went after her, and caught her up. I offered to -do the job for money. She said she'd give me lots if I got her the -pocket-book. I said I'd give it her next day. Then I came to this house -where we are now and waited in the hedge on the other side of the road. -I saw the winder was open, but nothing more. There was a cry and a -yell, and a cove comes dashing down the road, I after him and caught -him up, though he run like the wind. I fell on him, and I said: 'Give -us the red pocket-book!' He fought, but said nothing. I thought he was -Jenner."</p> - -<p>"Oh, but you could see in the dark!" remarked Mr. Cass, sarcastically.</p> - -<p>"What did that matter?" Job said, surlily. "I didn't know Jenner when I -saw him; he was a stranger to me."</p> - -<p>"True enough," said Mr. Cass. "Go on."</p> - -<p>"Well, he fought and twisted, and I grabbed on to his throat then he -half gave in, and pushed the pocket-book further into his pocket. I -held him down and got it out. I didn't know he'd been knifing Jenner. -I took the pocket-book to an old barn where I was going to sleep for -the night, and looked through it; I couldn't find no bill, and thought -I'd had all my trouble for nothing. So thinking she'd give me no money, -I made up my mind as I'd tell her I'd got the bill and would keep it -till she paid up; she believed the yarn, and I saw she was afraid. She -asked me to shew her the bill; but I said I wouldn't, as she might put -it in the burning fire. In one way or another I made her think I could -do her husband harm with the bill, so she paid up well. Oh, yes," said -the scoundrel, generously, "I will say she was a real gentle lady."</p> - -<p>"And all the time you hadn't the bill, you beast!"</p> - -<p>Job slapped his thigh. "That's the joke of it," he said, and began to -cough again. Mr. Cass watched him with an expression of contempt.</p> - -<p>The secret of the murder seemed as far off as ever Like an elusive -phantom it flitted just within reach, but when the seer hoped to grasp -it, it was still the same distance ahead. Twice or thrice had Mr. -Cass been on the verge of solving the mystery, and now again it was -impenetrable as always before. He saw no reason to doubt this man's -story; yet he was doubtful. He made one more attempt to get at the -truth. "Who was this man you struggled with?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I don't know--I could not see much of him because we were fighting -hard, my rye. But I've often thought he was the same cove as I heard -the steps of when I tusselled with Marshall."</p> - -<p>"How could you tell that?"</p> - -<p>"I can't tell, rye," was the candid response, "but I feel it was the -same. When I heard of the murder next morning, I knew he'd killed -Jenner to get that pocket-book; but the lady she said she didn't know. -I told her it was Jenner, and she thought I'd tackled him going to the -house; but it was when the man had left the house, and then Jenner was -inside--dead."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass had by this time learnt as much as he was capable of taking -in; and the mystery of the murder was deeper than ever. He resolved -that he would go away and think the matter over quietly. "I will go -now," he said.</p> - -<p>"And give me up to the peelers?" asked Job, with a scowl.</p> - -<p>"No, I am doubtful now if you are guilty. I cannot say; but I shall not -tell the police just now; I will see you again. One thing, don't go -near Mrs. Marshall." And he left, his brain in a perfect whirl.</p> - -<p>"Won't I just!" growled Job. "I'll get some more money out of her and -cut the country. No, I won't." Here he sniffed the petroleum. "I'll try -that game first. The Gentiles chuck me; the Romany won't have me! There -ain't nothing but that," he sniffed again, "for poor Job!" And he swore.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_28" href="#div1Ref_28">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Geoffrey was at Hollyoaks when Mr. Cass arrived home. He had come over -simply to see Ruth, never dreaming that any further revelations about -the case awaited him. But his host lost no time, and at once invited -him and Neil Webster into the library. There he left them for a moment -while he went upstairs to see his daughter and tell her that all was -well with her aunt.</p> - -<p>"You need not trouble your head, my dear," he said. "Your aunt got that -pocket-book from Job, who"--here, for obvious reasons, he suppressed -the truth--"who picked it up on the road. Now, is your mind at rest?"</p> - -<p>"Completely." She kissed her father fondly. "But Geoffrey! I sent down -to say that I was ill; he will be disappointed."</p> - -<p>"I will speak to him. Meanwhile try and get some sleep. You can see him -another time."</p> - -<p>In this way he managed to set her mind at rest; then he returned to -the library to have the matter out with the two young men. He found a -letter lying on the table, and, making some excuse, opened it at once; -for he had become so accustomed now to the occurrence of unforeseen -events that the sight of an envelope addressed in an unknown hand made -him anxious lest it should bring some new element of trouble.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Neil," he said, as he ran his eyes over the contents, "this is -from the prison chaplain. Your mother wishes to see me."</p> - -<p>"Can't I go with you?" asked the young man, rousing himself.</p> - -<p>"I think not. She told you to keep away, and it is only right that you -should obey her. To-morrow I will go up; and when I return you shall -know all that has passed between us. Meantime, I have a painful story -to tell you and Geoffrey.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" said Heron, quickly. "More about this case?"</p> - -<p>"Yes: I think we are getting near the truth now. I have made several -important discoveries. By the way, Geoffrey, Ruth will see you -to-morrow; she is not very well--in fact, she had rather a severe shock -to-day."</p> - -<p>"This confounded case, of course!" remarked Heron, forming his own -conclusions; and naturally enough, for his mind was now wholly occupied -with Mr. Cass's promised revelation.</p> - -<p>"Yes; about the case," said Mr. Cass again. "I want you to give me your -closest attention. And, first, both of you must promise me to say -nothing of what I have told you until I have given you leave. For the -matter concerns a member of my family."</p> - -<p>And forthwith he plunged into the middle of the exciting history, and -told it with as much detail as he could remember. It was necessary -to make things perfectly clear to his listeners, as he relied upon -their judgment to help him out of the cul-de-sac into which the whole -affair was now wedged. At the conclusion of the story Neil, who had -been more or less excited throughout, although he had refrained from -interruption, jumped up and began to pace the room.</p> - -<p>"There isn't the slightest doubt," he said, "that Job Lovell killed my -father to get possession of that pocket-book.</p> - -<p>"I thought you would say that," said Mr. Cass, drily; "and what do you -say, Heron?"</p> - -<p>"It seems probable that Job did kill the man," said Heron, with a grave -nod. "Marshall, you say, Mr. Cass, was in this house at the time: your -sister had got back to her bedroom. Now, only these two knew that the -bill was in the pocket-book or had any interest in getting it."</p> - -<p>"You forget Job; he knew all."</p> - -<p>"Job must be the murderer!" exclaimed Neil, with flashing eyes, "and my -mother is innocent. Now she must be released."</p> - -<p>"I will see to that," said Mr. Cass, composedly. "But you must let me -manage the matter in my own way. I do not wish the rascalities of my -precious brother-in-law made public. If Job can be proved guilty, he -must be punished. In any case, as soon as we are certain of his guilt, -Mrs. Jenner must be released." Mr. Cass paused, then added abruptly: "I -hold you both to your promise."</p> - -<p>"If I had my way," said Neil, "I would go at once to Job, and force -the whole truth out of him. As it is, I shall not move in the matter -until you give me permission. My mother told me to leave things as they -were--you have asked me to do the same. I owe you too much, Mr. Cass, -to break my promise."</p> - -<p>Mr. Cass, much affected by this speech, shook the young man warmly by -the hand; then turned an inquiring eye upon Geoffrey, who answered the -look. "I will do nothing, Mr. Cass, since it is your pleasure to thresh -the matter out yourself. But I only warn you that Job may kill himself."</p> - -<p>"How do you mean kill himself--on account of this murder?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe--I don't know. But he is dying slowly, and in much pain. His -fellow-gypsies will have nothing to do with him--he is too much of an -outcast even for the Romany! I heard from one of my servants that Job, -in a drunken humour, had threatened to put an end to himself by burning -down the Turnpike House. In order to do this, I believe he has lately -bought a large quantity of petroleum.</p> - -<p>"Ha!" exclaimed Mr. Cass, suddenly, "I know. The house smelt terribly -of petroleum; I daresay he has soaked the whole place in it, that it -may burn the more quickly. What is to be done? The man seems to be in -earnest."</p> - -<p>"You must get his confession as to how he committed the crime."</p> - -<p>"That would be the best thing, no doubt," assented Mr. Cass, "but -to-morrow I want to go up and see Mrs. Jenner. She seems to be very -ill, and wishes to see me at once."</p> - -<p>"Heron had quite made up his mind that he would see Job the first -thing in the morning; but Providence intervened with a sprained ankle. -Returning home late from Hollyoaks, he was overtaken by darkness, -and in some way--how he could not explain--he stumbled and rose with -an aching ankle, which next morning was so painful and swollen that -his housekeeper begged of him to give himself a day's rest; but he -declined this advice, and managed to drag himself to the library. It -was a dreary day, but towards the end the monotony was broken by the -announcement of a visitor; and to his surprise, a figure in rusty black -clothes was shewn in--a creature which smirked and grinned and rolled -its head in a half-witted way; Geoffrey stared.</p> - -<p>"Jerry Hutt!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing in this -galley?"</p> - -<p>"I am Mr. Hutt when I pay visits," said Jerry, with dignity. "Only when -I'm put upon at home by mother and master am I called Jerry."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, Mr. Hutt," said Mr. Heron, humouring the strange creature, -"I should like to know your business. Take a seat."</p> - -<p>Jerry obeyed, first going through the ceremony of dusting a spotless -chair so that his rusty suit might take no harm. He had furbished -himself up for the occasion, and wore a flaring red tie as spruce as -Julian Roper's green one, and as ill-suited to the person who wore -it. In this was stuck a pin which, when he had seated himself near -Geoffrey, the latter could see very clearly. It was an oval piece of -gold adorned with the enamelled figure of a ballet-girl!</p> - -<p>While the unconscious visitor sat smirking blandly on his chair, Mr. -Heron rang the bell; and when the butler entered, spoke a few whispered -words, upon which the man cast a startled look at Jerry and hurried -from the room. In three minutes the door of the room half opened and -closed again. Then Geoffrey knew that the under footman--a strapping -young giant--was waiting outside in case Mr. Hutt might be compelled to -make a too hasty exit.</p> - -<p>"Well, Mr. Hutt," said Geoffrey, "what is it?"</p> - -<p>"I thought you were never going to speak," said Jerry, in an injured -tone, "and I'm that hungry and dry, you wouldn't think!"</p> - -<p>"First we will have our talk, Mr. Hutt; then I will see about having -you provided with refreshment. Your errand! quick!"</p> - -<p>"It was the master sent me here," Jerry said, becoming more respectful -as he delivered his message; it was as though the spell of the sender -were on him. "He bids me say that if you can give him that bill of -exchange, he's willing to buy it."</p> - -<p>"That's very good of him," Geoffrey said, ironically. "And why does he -want the bill of exchange you speak of?"</p> - -<p>Jerry nodded mysteriously. "I know; but I mustn't tell," he said.</p> - -<p>"You must tell, or I won't discuss the matter with you."</p> - -<p>"Well, it isn't a secret; leastways, neither mother nor master said -'Hold your tongue, Jerry.' I can say this much, that master wants to be -upsides with that Mr. Marshall--you know why."</p> - -<p>"What do you know about Mr. Marshall?"</p> - -<p>Suddenly the smirking creature was transformed into a furious beast. -"I know that he killed Miss Elsa, he did!" shouted Jerry; and the man -outside was instantly on the alert to run in and aid his master. "Aye! -She was a beauty, and he broke her heart. I hoped to have made her Mrs. -Jerry Hutt," he added, with a sob, "but that wicked Mr. Marshall he -had her put in the ground. I'll never see her again! But I want to lay -him by the heels. I do, quite as much as master does; and that bill of -exchange will do it.</p> - -<p>"Ah! you know all about the bill of exchange, then?"</p> - -<p>Jerry nodded. "I listened after you went away, and I know it was the -same as they spoke of at the time of the murder. Ugh!" he shivered, -"that were a gory murder, bless my soul!"</p> - -<p>"We will leave the bill alone for the time being, Jerry, and talk of -something else--that beautiful breastpin, for instance! Where did you -get the thing from, Mr. Hutt?"</p> - -<p>Hutt blinked, quite pleased that Mr. Heron should admire his jewellery. -"I picked it up," he said, nodding. "It wasn't a pin, but I made it one -myself."</p> - -<p>"And where did you pick it up, Jerry?"</p> - -<p>He shook his head. "I can't tell you that," he snapped, and frowned.</p> - -<p>"Well, I know that you picked it up not far from the Turnpike House, -my friend, and that you dropped the other part of the link under the -window."</p> - -<p>"The window!" gasped Jerry, turning almost blue with suppressed fear.</p> - -<p>"Yes; the window of the Turnpike House through which you killed -Jenner." Hutt stared blankly at him, his eyes starting from his head. -Then he gave vent to a long howl like that of a beaten dog, and slipped -on to his knees. "Oh, don't hurt me!" he sobbed. "I never did anything! -I'll tell you all. I'm frightened--the master said I'd be caught some -day!"</p> - -<p>"Then you did kill him!" Heron almost shouted.</p> - -<p>"No, I didn't," snuffled the man. "You can't hang me for not doing what -I didn't do! Here!" loosening the breastpin, "you can have it." He -threw it to Heron. "I don't want to be put in gaol, please--please!"</p> - -<p>His dim brain had seized upon the idea--from the few words Heron had -spoken--that the gentleman knew all, and could hang him.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_29" href="#div1Ref_29">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></h4> -<h5>THE END OF THE TURNPIKE HOUSE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Perhaps had Heron attacked Jerry less suddenly, and had he not shewn by -a few chosen remarks that he knew a good deal, the half-witted creature -might not have confessed. But his weak nature gave way altogether. And -during the next half-hour Geoffrey turned him inside out like a glove. -The story which Heron extracted from the whimpering creature was this -Roper had always suspected, and rightly, that Jenner had hidden the -forged bill before he went to prison. When the man came out, he got to -know the date of his discharge, and set Jerry to follow him in order -that he might see where he went to get the document. Jerry was on the -track for many days, and saw that he procured it from an old friend, -who, ignorant of its value, had taken charge of it. The document was -in a sealed envelope, and Jerry had seen Jenner place it in a red -pocket-book. All this he reported to Roper, and he was then ordered to -follow Jenner, and get it from him at all costs.</p> - -<p>Jerry got again on the track of the released prisoner, and followed -him down to Westham. In one way or another the spy kept himself out of -sight, for Jenner, having been Roper's clerk, knew the lad--as he then -was. The rest may be told in Jerry's own words, which were many and -rambling:</p> - -<p>"He got down here on a misty, rainy night, sir," he said, fiddling with -his clumsy fingers, "and I kept at his heels. At a wayside pub he took -victuals and drink; I watched the door from the other side of the road, -and ate what I had with me. I daren't go inside lest he should see me."</p> - -<p>"Didn't you lose him in the mist?" asked Geoffrey, who was listening -eagerly.</p> - -<p>"I never lose anything, sir," returned Jerry. "I can see anywhere, and -foller like a dog. You don't slip me! I've had enough follering to do -for the master. Well, Jenner he goes to a large pool of water."</p> - -<p>"The Waggoner's Pond. Go on."</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's it, is it? I never know'd. Well, there he meets with Mr. -Marshall. Oh, I know'd his voice. I was hiding near them behind a -hedge, I was; and a ghost came past me, sir--a ghost with a long black -dress."</p> - -<p>Heron saw that the man was ignorant that Mrs. Marshall also had been -listening; and this was all the better. It was as well that Jerry had -taken her for a ghost.</p> - -<p>"I hate him so, you see," explained Jerry. "He killed Miss Elsa, and -I was cruel fond of her, I was. Well, them two was talking about the -bill, and Jenner he shewed it to Marshall, but he wouldn't give it up -till he got money for it. Marshall said he'd give him money when he was -married and after that they parted. I tried to foller Jenner, but I -thought the other--Marshall--'ud spot me. I didn't mind, though, as I -know'd Jenner was going to the Turnpike House to see his wife."</p> - -<p>"But you were a stranger! How did you know where that was?"</p> - -<p>"I had passed it in the afternoon, and from what Marshall said to -Jenner, I know'd it was the Turnpike House. Well, sir, I scrambled a -lot, and got mixed---- I don't know where I got. Then I heard a scuffle -and a cry, and saw in the mist two men fighting."</p> - -<p>"Marshall and Job," thought Heron; then aloud, "Go on!"</p> - -<p>"I thought as someone else might be after the red book, so I was going -to run forward when one cove he slipped away, and after groaning awful -the other he went too. He was shaken a lot by the fight. I stayed where -I was for a time, then I creeps forward and lights a match."</p> - -<p>"What did you do that for?"</p> - -<p>"I wanted to see if in the fight the red book had been dropped. How -was I to know that one of them wasn't Jenner in spite of his going on -to the Turnpike! When I casts a light," he resumed. "I saw something -glittering on the ground. It was a broken link, and I examined it by -another match. There was two links. One piece was a champagne bottle, -just as you said, sir, and the other was my pin with the girl; I -thought they were pretty and saw they were gold, so I puts them into my -coat pocket."</p> - -<p>"How did you lose them, then?" Geoffrey asked, thinking this -explanation perfectly feasible.</p> - -<p>"I only lost one--the champagne bottle," said Jerry quite gravely, -"'cause there was a hole in my pocket I know'd nothing of. The other I -took home and got made into a pin. I never know'd till you spoke where -I lost the one! Was it under the Turnpike window?" he inquired.</p> - -<p>"It was found there," assented Heron.</p> - -<p>Jerry scratched his head. "I must have shook it out when I was looking -in at the window," he muttered.</p> - -<p>"Oh, you did look in at the window, then?"</p> - -<p>"Of course I did, sir. Wasn't I follering Jenner? After I picked up the -links I went straight to the Turnpike but didn't get there for a long -time through having mistook the way. I see a light in the window, and I -sneaks up to it through the bushes. The window was open and Jenner he -was leaning against it. On a table, under the window, I saw a knife, -and the red pocket-book with the bill. Jenner was talking to himself -and cursing some child----"</p> - -<p>"Poor Neil," muttered Heron.</p> - -<p>"I waited a bit to steal the book, when I heard Jenner give a yell, and -saw a kid come into the room looking frightful; he ran at Jenner who -gave a skip and dodged him. The child's eyes was like diamonds, and -fixed; I never seed anything like the looks of him in my born days. -Jenner he screeched again and pitched himself at the child to fall on -top of him--leastways it looked like it. But I didn't wait; I saw my -chance, and grabbing the pocket-book I ran like a deer, I did. Just as -I got a little way off a cove jumped out on me and collared my throat -singing out for the red book. I wouldn't give it up, and shoved it -deeper into my pocket; but he held me down with one hand and dug it out -with the other. My heart!" sighed Jerry rubbing his hand, "didn't the -master give me beans for not having that pocket-book!"</p> - -<p>"Didn't you know who robbed you?"</p> - -<p>"No; I wished I had known. I'd have got the book next week when the -talk of the murder was past. But the master got a scare from that, -though I told him, as I tell you, that it wasn't me. He said 'Lie low,' -so I did lie low, and after a time he gave up the idea of getting the -bill, till you came the other day, and he thought you might have it. So -I've come to buy it if you will sell."</p> - -<p>"We'll talk about that later, Jerry. Are you sure Jenner was alive when -you left the window?"</p> - -<p>"I swear it! He was just making for the kid."</p> - -<p>"Had he the knife in his hand?"</p> - -<p>"Not as I knows, sir. I think it was on the table. Jenner just ran at -the kid with his mouth open; he was in a cruel fright. But I cut and -didn't wait to see anything."</p> - -<p>"Then, do you think the child killed Jenner?"</p> - -<p>"Lor' no, sir!" cried Jerry, amazed. "A weak little thing like that! -'Sides, the kid hadn't the knife. 'Twas on the table, I'm sure."</p> - -<p>"Can you guess, then, who killed him?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir, I can't. All I know is that I didn't. But now you know, just -say if I'm to have the bill!"</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you to-morrow morning."</p> - -<p>"I must know to-night; the master wants me back to-night."</p> - -<p>"He can't have you, then," said Heron, drily. "You stay here to-night, -I want you to repeat your story to someone else."</p> - -<p>"I won't then! I was a fool to tell; but I don't know nothing."</p> - -<p>"You must stay here."</p> - -<p>"I never killed him!" wept Jerry; then he turned sullen and made a grab -at his hat. "I'll go," he said, and made for the door.</p> - -<p>"Stephen," called Geoffrey; and Jerry found himself face to face with a -big footman who seized him with iron hands.</p> - -<p>"Here! here!" he shouted, struggling and roaring. "Let me go; I never -did nothing to Jenner. Let me go!"</p> - -<p>"Lock him up in some empty room, Stephen," cried Mr. Heron, "and give -him food and wine; he must be kept here all night. I will take the -responsibility. Confound this foot! If I were only able to walk! Oh, -I'll keep you, Mr. Hutt; we haven't done with each other yet."</p> - -<p>Jerry's cunning came suddenly to his aid, and he ceased struggling. "If -you give me grub and wine I'll stop," he said. "I ain't done nothing to -Jenner; and I ain't afraid."</p> - -<p>"Take him away, Stephen, and do what I tell you," said Geoffrey, -sharply; and Jerry Hutt soon found himself locked in an out-shed with a -tray of food and a bottle of beer for his supper.</p> - -<p>At intervals Stephen, the footman, came in to see that he was safe; -the creature noticed this, and made his plans accordingly. Immediately -after Stephen had departed after one of these peeps, he scrambled up -the rough woodwork and managed to get to the window, which was closed -merely by a hasp, no one having the least idea that the man would -attempt to escape. Jerry broke open the catch, and soon forced his -ungainly body through the opening. Not paying sufficient attention -to his footing, he fell, and alighted on a manure heap some distance -below. "Spoiling my nice new suit," he grumbled, as he groped round to -get out of the yard in which he now found himself.</p> - -<p>There was some little difficulty about this; but he at last discovered -a gate, which led into a by-lane, and was soon out of Mr. Heron's -grounds, running across country for all he was worth, chuckling at the -way in which he had outwitted his host.</p> - -<p>For quite two hours he wandered on; for he had completely lost his -bearings. The night was fine with a high wind; the moon was at the -zenith, and across her silver face passed cloud after cloud. At -intervals the whole landscape became light as day, and he could see -plainly. But he was a comparative stranger, though he had several times -been down looking for the bill by his master's order.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he emerged on to a common overgrown with gorse, and found -himself on a spot where four roads met. Some distance away a white -house looked spectral in the moonlight.</p> - -<p>"The Turnpike," he said aloud. "My gum! And there's the window I looked -through; the light's in it now, too--just as it was when Jenner was -killed. I wonder who's in there!"</p> - -<p>His curiosity got the better of his fear of Mr. Heron, and with a -surprisingly light step--for the man was heavy--he crept through the -jungle of bushes and sneaked along the wall of the house. "Just like -old times," he said, chuckling. "I hope there ain't no more murders -though."</p> - -<p>Someone was singing a wild song in a drunken voice; and when the clerk -peered through the window--for there was no blind--he saw a man dancing -in the middle of the room. A cheap oil lamp was on the table, and by -its light the dancer executed his fandango, waving a bottle as he did -so. The apartment was bare, and a horrible smell of petroleum was -wafted to Jerry's nostrils. In his curiosity he forgot to keep himself -concealed, and Job--for he was the dancer--saw him. He flung himself -across the room, and before Jerry had realised his danger the gypsy had -seized him; by the collar of his coat and was dragging him through the -window. "Come in, come in, Satan!" yelled the drunken man. "We'll have -another murder! Ho!</p> - -<p>"Let me go--let me go!" screeched Jerry; but he was like a rabbit -caught in a snare, and shortly found himself in a heap on a -petroleum-soaked floor, while Job closed the window, Hutt was -terrified; but he could see no means of escape.</p> - -<p>"Have a drink," shouted Job, thrusting the bottle under Mr. Hutt's nose.</p> - -<p>"You let me go," he whispered, clinging to a chair. "If you don't, my -master will set the police on to you see if he don't."</p> - -<p>"The police!" cried Job. "What do I care for them! They can't do -anything to me; she'll keep them off--she will. I can shew up her -husband it she don't. Drink, drink, or I'll kick you!"</p> - -<p>Partly to avert the carrying-out of this threat, and partly because -he was extremely dry with his race across country, Jerry accepted the -offer, and as the ardent spirits went down his throat, he felt his -courage revive.</p> - -<p>"I'm Jerry Hutt," he exclaimed, "and I work for Mr. Roper. I want the -bill--the bill!" He made a grab at the gypsy. "It will lay him by the -heels," he hissed.</p> - -<p>"Lay who by the heels, hang you?" cried Job, pushing him back.</p> - -<p>"Why, Marshall--I won't call him 'Mister' Marshall--who killed my poor -dear Miss Elsa."</p> - -<p>Job, half stupid with drink, had yet the sense to gather the meaning -of the words. "Blest if I won't know of the red pocket-book, too," he -muttered.</p> - -<p>And even as he spoke, Jerry caught the words, and repeated them. "The -red pocket-book," he shouted. "Do you know where it is? The bill is in -it, and I'll buy it off you; oh, yes, I will. Fifty pounds."</p> - -<p>Job banged his fist so heavily on the table that the lamp tottered. "I -wish I had it now!" he cried. "Fifty pounds-by gum!"</p> - -<p>"Have you the bill there?" asked Jerry, taking another drink.</p> - -<p>"No; I haven't anything," said Job. "She got it out of me."</p> - -<p>"Got what out of you?"</p> - -<p>"Why, the red pocket-book--but the bill wasn't in it," he added.</p> - -<p>For a moment Jerry stared at the man, then dropped the bottle with a -crash on the floor; it broke, and the liquor forming a pool, added its -fumes to the smell of the petroleum. "You had that red book!" stuttered -Jerry, trying hard to clear his brain. "And it was taken from me! You -live here--you were--you, oh, oh!" He sprang from his seat with a roar. -"You took it from me!"</p> - -<p>"Well," said Job, with a growl, "was you the cove as I fought on that -night, and knocked about so?"</p> - -<p>"You robber--you thief!" cried Jerry, crouching for a spring. "Give me -back my property--the book, the bill!" and he flung himself on the -gypsy, who gave a cry of rage.</p> - -<p>"I'll crush you like a fly, as I did before!" Job said, and grappled -with his visitor.</p> - -<p>But Job was not the man he had been twelve years before; he could not -hold his own as he had once done. Shouting and cursing, the two men -swayed round the apartment. Finally, they crashed against the table, -and upset the lamp it fell and burst on the floor. Immediately the -woodwork, soaked as it was in petroleum, broke into flame, and in -almost less time than it takes to tell, the whole room was in a blaze.</p> - -<p>With a yell of terror, Jerry tried to shake himself free, and leap -through the girdle of fire but Job held him fast.</p> - -<p>"No, you don't!" he shouted. "You die with me, whoever you are! I've -made arrangements for this; I never intended to live: but I thought I'd -die alone. Now I've got you!" and he made a clutch at Jerry's throat.</p> - -<p>After that the struggle proceeded in silence, for Job held his peace, -and Jerry could not cry out by reason of those two strong hands fast on -his throat. By this time the room was blazing like a furnace, and the -clothes of the two men were in flames. A frightened wayfarer saw the -fire streaming towards the sky--saw two men vaguely struggling in the -flames.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_30" href="#div1Ref_30">CHAPTER XXX.</a></h4> -<h5>THE TRUTH AT LAST.</h5> -<br> - -<p>"It is not impossible," said Geoffrey, thunderstruck.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall shook her head. "So possible that I always thought so -myself," she said.</p> - -<p>"My own idea was the same," remarked Mr. Cass, who was the third person -of the party now assembled in Mr. Heron's library. "I have told you -several times, Geoffrey, that I believed Mrs. Jenner to be guilty."</p> - -<p>The young man drew a long breath. Even now he could scarcely credit the -news. "So she really did kill her husband?"</p> - -<p>"There can be no doubt about it," said Mr. Cass, pointing to an envelope -lying on the table. "There is a copy of her confession! She signed it -in the presence of the chaplain and the governor of the gaol."</p> - -<p>It was the morning after the burning down of the Turnpike House that -this conversation took place. Information that two charred bodies had -been found among the ruins had led Geoffrey to believe that Jerry had -perished along with Job. Stephen had informed him on the previous -night that the creature had made his escape, and no pursuit had been -attempted. There was no doubt in Geoffrey's mind that Jerry had gone to -see Job at the Turnpike House; but why he should have done so, and why -it had come about that he and the gypsy should have met their deaths -together, he could not think. Nor was the mystery ever cleared up. -But if the death of Jerry remained a mystery that of Jenner did not. -Towards noon Mr. Cass made his appearance together with his sister to -see Mr. Heron. After some little talk about the fire, Geoffrey detailed -what had been confessed to him on the previous night.</p> - -<p>"How did it all come about?" he asked now.</p> - -<p>"That's what I want to know," said Inez. "Sebastian has told me nothing -beyond the bare fact as yet."</p> - -<p>"Because I want to tell the story once and for all, and then put it out -of my mind," said her brother, solemnly. "You see, Heron, my sister and -you both know all about this case. What you have told us about Jerry -Hutt's visit supplies the last link which brings the crime home to Mrs. -Jenner. I am not going to tell anyone else how the murder took place. -I have asked the governor and the chaplain not to tell Neil the truth -when he goes up for the funeral. He has had enough trouble, poor boy; -I, for one, do not want him to have any more. He believes now that his -mother is innocent----"</p> - -<p>"Oh, indeed!" interrupted Mrs. Marshall, with a haughty curl of her -lip. "And who does he believe guilty?"</p> - -<p>"Job, the gypsy. He thinks that the man set fire to the Turnpike House -and destroyed himself, so as to escape the penalty of his crime. I -think it only merciful that he should be allowed to remain under that -impression."</p> - -<p>"I quite agree with you," said Heron, heartily. "And you, Mrs. -Marshall?"</p> - -<p>She bowed her head. "I have no ill-will towards the young man, although -I hated his mother. But she has gone to her account, so I will say no -more about her. As to Neil Webster, as he calls himself----"</p> - -<p>"And will continue to call himself," interposed Mr. Cass, sternly.</p> - -<p>"I will say nothing to him," continued Mrs. Marshall, taking no notice -of this interruption. "I do not wish to visit the sins of the parents -upon the children; but with one parent murdered and the other parent -a murderess, I don't see how the young man can turn out well. And I -sincerely hope that he will not marry that unfortunate Jenny Brawn."</p> - -<p>"If he asks her to marry him, she will not accept him blindly," said -Mr. Cass, "for I intended to tell her the whole story--suppressing the -fact that Mrs. Jenner was guilty."</p> - -<p>"That is well," put in Geoffrey. "But I should like to hear the story -of Mrs. Jenner's crime."</p> - -<p>"I can tell it to you in a few words," said Mr. Cass. "The clerk's tale -has brought the story up to the time when Jenner flung himself on the -child. Well, Mrs. Jenner heard his cry, and rushed down into the room. -Jenner was mad with rage at the uncanny hatred shewn to him by his own -son, and had him by the hair of the head, shaking him as a terrier -does a rat. Mrs. Jenner rushed at him--she thought he would kill the -child--they struggled, and he struck her. While this was going on she -found herself near the table, and seeing the knife, blindly snatched -it up, throwing her husband to one side. Then, clutching the child to -her breast and holding out the knife to keep off the infuriated man, -she tried to make her escape from the house. But Jenner was blind with -fury, both against the child and against his wife who had instilled -such hatred into the mind of the boy. He rushed at her; she cried out -that she was holding the knife, but he took no notice of her, and ran -up against the blade, which buried itself in his heart. He fell, and -his wife fainted with the insensible child in her arms. It was when -she came to herself some time afterwards that she recalled what she -had done. But it was by accident that she had killed him--and this she -swore most solemnly; she denied that she had ever intended murder. Then -she fled from the house into the darkness until she fell insensible -under a hedge. The rest you know."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall laughed again at this account. "I believe she killed him -on purpose," she said.</p> - -<p>"She had every reason to do it," Mr. Cass said, coldly, "but all the -same, I believe she has spoken the truth. Jenner died by accident."</p> - -<p>"If this is so," said Geoffrey, slowly, "and I see no reason to -disbelieve it, why did Mrs. Jenner tell Neil that she had killed his -father?"</p> - -<p>"I asked her that, and her answer was that she was afraid, if Neil -reopened the case, some evidence might be brought forward to prove that -she had really committed the murder. She had told her son that she was -innocent, and she did not wish him to learn the truth. It was only on -my giving a promise not to tell him that she consented to make the -confession. She wants him to think of her only as a mother who loved -him--not as a murderess."</p> - -<p>"Humph!" remarked Geoffrey, doubtfully. "A queer way of shewing her -love, to put it into the head of an imaginative neurotic creature like -Neil that he himself was guilty!"</p> - -<p>"It will not do him any harm," said Mr. Cass. "I don't pretend to say -that I approve of her clearing her own name at the expense of Neil's -peace of mind: but it is not for us to judge, and before she died she -repented of having made that statement."</p> - -<p>"Did she know how the red pocket-book was stolen?" asked Geoffrey, -abruptly.</p> - -<p>"No; she had been so busy struggling with Jenner for possession of the -child, she said, that she took no notice of anyone at the window. That -was why Jerry, as you say, was able to put his hand in and take the -book. It was lucky for the clearing-up of the case that Jenner had sewn -the bill inside the toy horse. If Roper had got hold of it, he would -have made it hot for Marshall. He hates him like poison on account -of----"</p> - -<p>"I have heard enough of that story," interrupted Mrs. Marshall, "and -you seem to forget, Sebastian, that if the bill had really been in the -pocket-book I should have got it through Job. I am tired of it all. I -hope it is all ended for ever."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Inez. You will hear no more about it. In a few days Mrs. Jenner -and her story will be buried, and we will all try and forget the past. -Neil must never know."</p> - -<p>"I shall not tell him."</p> - -<p>"Nor I," said Mrs. Marshall, with, for her, remarkable generosity. "No -one knows the truth but ourselves, and we will keep silence. What about -those poor wretches who have been burnt?"</p> - -<p>"Well, Geoffrey must tell how Jerry Hutt came to see him, and in some -way we must prove the remains to be his. After all, the corpse--what is -left of it--may not be Jerry!"</p> - -<p>"I think it is," said Heron. "Indeed, I am certain of it. I expect he -and Job got quarrelling about the bill, and Job set fire to the house -in order to burn them both. Jerry did not burn willingly, I am sure of -that. Job no doubt detained him in the burning house until it was too -late."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall shuddered. Job, indeed, was wicked, as well she knew. But -now she was relieved from his blackmailing, and had only her husband -to deal with. And she resolved--now that she was in possession of the -bill--to make short work of him. Her thoughts still seemed inclined to -separation and the Romish Church.</p> - -<p>"Well, good-bye, Geoffrey," Mr. Cass said, shaking hands. "I hope -your ankle will soon be right. Ruth is coming over to see you. But, -remember, not a word to her."</p> - -<p>"Not a word," said the young man. "But I say, Cass, if I were you -I should burn that copy of the confession. The original, in the -possession of the authorities, will be sufficient to prove Mrs. -Jenner's guilt should anyone else be accused, which is not likely after -all. Burn it."</p> - -<p>"I intend to do so." And Mr. Cass dropped the document into the fire. -"I only brought it back so that you might be sure she was guilty. Ah, -it is in ashes already! I wish we could get rid of all our painful -memories so easily!" But to the end of my life I shall never forget -this case. And these were the last words they spoke on the subject, -for both Mr. Cass and Geoffrey ever afterwards carefully avoided all -mention of it. Nor was there even the Turnpike House to remind them of -the tragedy, for it had been burnt to the ground. And Mr. Heron had the -site ploughed and enclosed in the field adjoining; so that the next -year corn waved where the blood-stained habitation had stood.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Marshall carried out her intention of separating from her husband; -she gave him a portion of her money, and made him a present of the -forged bill, and he betook himself and his money to Paris. Neil -buried his mother and mourned her for many months. Then he made his -reappearance in public, and was more successful than ever. Now that -time was healing his wounds, he began to think about his future, and -the first thing he did was to ask Jennie Brawn to share it with him. -She, poor girl, accepted him with joy; and at once sent the good news -to Ruth. Mr. Cass thereupon went up to London, and called upon the -girl at his daughter's house, for she was still teaching Mrs. Chisel's -children. He told her the whole story, not thinking it fair that she -should marry Neil in ignorance of the truth. And at first she was -horrified; but declared that nothing could alter her determination to -marry him.</p> - -<p>"I love him," she said, and that was all.</p> - -<br> -<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:.5em">* * * * * * * * * * * *</p> - -<br> -<p>The strange story of the burning of the two men, and that of the murder -which had taken place in the same house twelve years before is even now -often told by winter firesides. But few know the truth, that the mother -of Neil Webster, the famous violinist, was the guilty person in the -tragedy of the Turnpike House. The truth was disclosed to Mr. Cass, to -Geoffrey Heron, to Mrs. Marshall, and to the Governor of Gaol, and the -chaplain. But as for this story it is told with other names; and the -scene is laid fifty miles from the real locality.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>[THE END.]</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Turnpike House, by Fergus Hume - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TURNPIKE HOUSE *** - -***** This file should be named 55782-h.htm or 55782-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/7/8/55782/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page images published as -a serial on page 2 in the Cheshire Observer starting 18 -January 1902 -(http://newspapers.library.wales/view/4281236/4281238) and -ending with 26 April 1902 as provided on the internet by -Welsh Newspapers Online. - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - -</body> -</html> - - - - diff --git a/old/55782.txt b/old/55782.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f401a1d..0000000 --- a/old/55782.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9488 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Turnpike House, by Fergus Hume - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Turnpike House - -Author: Fergus Hume - -Release Date: October 20, 2017 [EBook #55782] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TURNPIKE HOUSE *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page images published as -a serial on page 2 in the Cheshire Observer starting 18 -January 1902 -(http://newspapers.library.wales/view/4281236/4281238) and -ending with 26 April 1902 as provided on the internet by -Welsh Newspapers Online. - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: 1. Transcribed from page images published as a -serial on page 2 in the Cheshire Observer starting 18 January 1902 -(http://newspapers.library.wales/view/4281236/4281238) and ending with -26 April 1902 as provided on the internet by Welsh Newspapers Online. - - - - - - -THE TURNPIKE HOUSE. - - - -By FERGUS HUME, Author of "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab," "The Crimson -Cryptogram," "The Golden Idol," "Aladdin in London," "The Dwarf's -Chamber," etc. - - - - -CHAPTER I. -THE CONVICT'S RETURN. - - -It stood where four roads met--a square building of two storeys, with -white-washed walls and a high slate roof. The fence, and the once trim -garden, had vanished with the turnpike gate; and a jungle of gooseberry -bushes, interspersed with brambles, shut off the house from the roads. -And only by courtesy could these be so-called, for time and neglect had -almost obliterated them. - -On all sides stretched a flat expanse of reaped fields, bleak-looking -and barren in the waning November twilight. Mists gathered thickly over -ditch and hedge and stubbled furrow a constant dripping could be heard -in the clumps of trees looming here and there in the fog. - -Through the kitchen-garden jungle a narrow, crooked path led up to the -door where two rough stones ascended to a broken threshold. Indeed, the -whole house appeared ragged in its poverty. Many of the windows were -stuffed up with rags; walls, cracked and askew, exuded green slime; -moss interspersed with lichen, filled in the crevices of the slates -upon the roof. A dog would scarcely have sought such a kennel, yet a -dim light in the left-hand window of the lower storey shewed that this -kennel was inhabited. There sat within--a woman and a child. - -The outer decay but typified the poverty of the interior. Plaster had -fallen from walls and ceiling, and both were cracked in all directions. -No carpet covered the warped floor, and the pinched fire in the rusty -grate gave but scanty warmth to the small apartment. A deal table, -without a cloth, two deal chairs, and a three-legged stool--these -formed the sole furniture. On the blistered black mantelshelf a few -cups and saucers of thick delf ranged themselves, and their gay pinks -and blues were the only cheerful note in the prevailing misery. - -The elder of these two outcasts sat by the bare table; a tallow candle -of the cheapest description stuck in a bottle shed a feeble tight, by -which she sewed furiously at a flannel shirt. Stab, click, click, stab, -she toiled in mad haste as though working for a wager. Intent on her -labour, she had no looks to spare for the ten-year-old boy who crouched -by the fire; not that he heeded her neglect, for a brown toy horse took -up all his attention, and he was perfectly happy in managing what was, -to him, an unruly steed. - -From the likeness between these two, the most casual observer would -have pronounced them mother and son. She had once been beautiful, -this slender woman, with her fair hair and blue eyes, but trouble and -destitution had robbed her of a delicate loveliness which could have -thriven only under congenial circumstances. In those faded eyes, now -feverishly glittering, there lurked and expression of dread telling -of a mind ill at ease. Dainty garments would have well become her -fairness, but she was clothed, rather than dressed, in a black stuff -gown without even a linen collar to relieve its lustreless aspect. -Poverty had made her careless of her appearance, heedless of the -respect due to herself, and her sole aim, apparently, was the speedy -completion of the shirt at which she incessantly wrought. - -The boy was a small copy of his mother, with the same fair hair and -blue eyes but his face had more colour, his figure was more rounded, -and he was clothed with a care which shewed the forethought and the -love of a mother even in the direst poverty. - -After some twenty minutes of silence, broken only by the clicking of -the needle and the low chatter of the child, signs of exhaustion began -to show themselves in the worker. Before long, big, hot tears fell on -the grey flannel, and she opened her mouth with an hysterical gasp. -Slowly and more slowly did the seamstress ply her needle, until at -last, with a strangled sob, she flung back her head. "Oh, Heavens!" -was her moan, and it seemed to be wrung from the very depths of her -suffering heart. The child, with a nervous cry, looked up, trembling -violently. - -"What is it mother? Is father coming?" - -"No, thank Heaven!" said the mother, fiercely. "Do you want him?" - -So white did the boy's face become that his eyes shewed black as pitch -balls. The question seemed to strike him like a blow, and he hurled -himself forward to bury his head in the woman's lap. "Don't--don't let -him come!" he sobbed, with unrestrained passion. - -"Why do you speak of him, then?" cried the mother, angrily, just as -she might have addressed a person of her own age. "Never mention your -father, Gilbert. He has gone out of your life--out of mine. He is dead -to you--and to me." - -"I am glad," sobbed the boy, shaking with nervous excitement. "Are you -sure, quite sure, mother, he will never come back again?" - -"Who is sure of anything?" muttered the woman, gloomily. "He is out of -prison now; at any time he may track us down. But he shall not I get -you, my boy," and she strained the child to her breast. "I would kill -him first!" - -"I would kill him, too--kill him, too!" panted Gilbert, brokenly. "Oh, -mother, mother! I hate him! I hate him!" and he burst into tears. - -"Hush, hush, my baby!" soothed the mother. "Never think of him. He will -not get you. No, no." - -But the boy continued to sob convulsively, and it required all her arts -to pacify him. She knew from experience what the end of this outbreak -would be if it continued beyond a point. The lad was precocious and -neurotic, quite undisciplined, taking colour from his surroundings, -tone from the atmosphere in which he chanced to be; and as the fit -took him, could be angel or demon. But in ten minutes the mother had -succeeded in soothing him sufficiently to send him back to his play. -Then she recommenced her work, and as the needle flew through the -coarse stuff she thought of her husband. - -"The brute! The hound!" so ran her thoughts. "It is his work. If Gilbert -should see him again he would die or go mad, or fall into one of his -trances. In any case he would be lost to me. Ah!" she broke out aloud, -pushing the hair from her lined forehead. "How long will it last?" - -There was no answer to the despairing question, and she went on sewing, -listening the while to the prattle of her lad. - -"Stand still. Brownie!" the child was saying. "You aren't galloping -over the big green of Bedford-park. Do you remember your nice stable by -this there, Brownie, and the pretty rooms? I don't like this house any -more than you do. Mother was happy in our pretty cottage, so was I, so -was my Brownie." - -"Mother will never be happy again," murmured the woman, savagely -stabbing the flannel as though she were stabbing the man of whom she -was thinking. "Ruin and disaster. Disaster and ruin! Why are such men -created?" - -Gilbert took no notice. "Do you remember the red houses, Brownie, and -the railway? I took you there often for a trot. It was just three years -ago. Trot now!" - -"Aye, just three years!" cried the woman. "Years of agony, pain, shame -and disgrace. Why doesn't he die!" and she bit off the end of a thread -viciously. - -"Mother," said the boy, unexpectedly, "I'm hungry. Give me something to -eat." - -The woman opened a cupboard and brought out a small loaf, a bundle of -victuals, and a tiny packet of tea, precious as gold to her poverty. -In silence she boiled the kettle and brewed a cup; in silence she set -the food before the hungry child. But when he began to eat her feelings -proved too much for her. She burst into fierce words. - -"Eat the bread of charity, Gilbert!" she said in a loud, hard voice, -and still speaking as though to a person of her own age. "The loaf only -is paid for by our own money. I got the bones and the meat from Miss -Cass at the Hall. She took me for a beggar in spite of the work I have -done for her. And she is right, I am a beggar--so are you--and your -father---- There, there! Don't look so scared. We will not speak of -him." - -Then the boy did a strange thing. With a sudden pounce he seized a -sharp-pointed, buck-handled knife used for cutting the bread, and, -raising it in the air, looked at his mother with fierce eyes. - -"If my father takes me away from you," he said, shrilly, "I'll stick -this into him. I will, mother!" - -With an ejaculation of terror she snatched the knife out of his small -hands, clenched now so wickedly. "Heaven forgive me," she thought, -laying it down on the table. "My hatred comes out in him. I may lead -him into danger. Heaven keep his father out of his way. I should see -a doctor." She glanced round the room and laughed bitterly. "Oh, -Heavens'" she broke out aloud. "See a doctor. I can't pay, and ask him -in this hovel! Charity? No, no. I'll earn my bread, if I die in the -earning." And she fell as fiercely as before to her sewing. - -Gilbert, now himself again, ate slowly and with much enjoyment. At -intervals he fed the horse which he had brought to the table with him. -His mother watched him, pondering over his late outburst so terribly -suggestive of the latent instincts in the child. She knew well the -reason of it, though she would not acknowledge so much even to herself. -Her husband had treated her brutally, and the high-spirited creature -had resented his behaviour with passionate hatred. She had taught her -child to detest his father. - -It was a wild night. The wind beat against the crazy building till it -creaked in all its loosened joints. Still the woman went on sewing, and -the boy continued to eat. A miserable silence settled down upon them. - -Suddenly the mother raised her hand, and the child stopped eating with -an expression of terror on his white face. - -The woman listened, wild eyed--not in vain. From some distance came the -sound of a dragging footstep. There was a drag, a halt, and then again -a drag, as though some wounded animal were writhing its way to a place -of safety. The outcast knew the sound of that halting gait only two -well. So did the boy. - -"It's father!" he cried, shrilly. A look of mingled terror, repulsion, -hatred, took possession of his white face. - -"Hush!" said the woman, imperatively, and left the room. For a moment -Gilbert sat quietly listening; then his small hand slipped along the -table to grasp the buck-handled knife. Trembling with excitement, he -watched the door; he could hear without his mother's taunting voice. - -"Come in, Mark Jenner. I know you are standing there in the darkness. -Enter, and see the state to which your wickedness has reduced your wife -and child. Come in, you lying scoundrel, you brute, you thief!" - -In answer to this invitation came a growl as of an angry animal. Then -the footsteps dragged themselves nearer and halted at the door. There -ensued the sound of taunts and curses. And almost immediately after -this exchange of courtesies between husband and wife, who had been -parted for three years, the door opened to admit a thick-set man, whose -face, in spite of its cunning, was not devoid of refinement. He was in -rags and soaking with the wet. - -Gilbert stared at this half-forgotten father who had been so long a -stranger. Then the fierce inherited hatred woke suddenly within him. In -deadly silence he launched himself forward, knife in hand, and struck -at his father. Though taken by surprise, the man had about him some of -the swiftness of the wild beast which is always prepared for danger, -and he warded off the blow with one hand. But the keen blade had cut -him across the knuckles, and as the blood spurted he uttered an oath of -terror and of pain. For a moment he made as if to fling himself on his -small assailant; then he paused, with a look of fear. For the child, -passing suddenly from motion to stillness, stood, apparently in a -cataleptic trance, with rigid limbs and eyes widely staring. His mother -swept down on him with the swoop of a striking falcon, and had him in -her arms before her husband could recover himself. - -"You have seen him like this before," she said, "so you know he will -remain in the trance for some time. I will take him to bed." - -"It is you who have put him up to this," cried the man in a shaking -voice. - -Mrs. Jenner laughed. "Heaven put him up to it," she said, hysterically. -"This hatred of you dates too far back. You had better ask a doctor to -explain. I cannot; but I know what I know. Wait till I have put him to -bed, then I will come back to hear how you have hunted me down, and -why. I thought I was free from gaol-birds," she finished, bitterly, and -passed out of the room and up the stairs. - -Mr. Jenner gave a savage ejaculation. Then he shuffled forward to -the fire, warmed himself, and proceeded to attack the food. In an -incredibly short space of time there was not a crumb left on the table, -and he was still hungry. - -"If I only had a smoke!" he growled, squeezing his hands together. -"But I have nothing, not even a welcome. Ah, well, there are those -who will pay for this!" He took a well-worn pocket-book out of his -breast-pocket. "My fortune lies in here; but it is not safe while he is -about." - -The reflection seemed to make him uneasy, and he glanced round the poor -room, looking for a place where he might hide his treasure. His eyes -fell on the brown horse, and he chuckled. - -"She'll always keep that for Gilbert," he said, "and it's not likely to -be lost. I'll put it in there." - -Having assured himself that his wife was upstairs, he proceeded to -carry out his plan. The toy was made of rags, painted and moulded -to the shape of a horse. So he made an incision in the belly, and, -thrusting in his finger, formed a hole. Then, with a hasty glance -round, he opened the red pocket-book and produced therefrom a Bill of -Exchange, which he folded up into a compass as small as possible. This -he thrust into the hole, pulled the interior stuffing over it, and -using his wife's needle, sewed up the hole with considerable despatch -and dexterity. A few white threads were still sufficiently noticeable -to arouse suspicion, so he rubbed his hand on the sooty grate and -blackened the rent. So neatly was all this done that no one would have -guessed that the toy had been opened. - -Jenner laughed, and tossed the horse on to the table where the child -had left it. "That's all right," he said. "She'll never part with -anything belonging to the boy." - -He looked over the table to see if any food remained. Finding none, he -swore a little and sat down by the fire, upon which he had heaped all -the fuel he could find. There he brooded, chin in hand, thinking of his -past, dreading the days to come. - - - - -CHAPTER II. -THE STILL FORM IN THE HOUSE. - - -In a quarter of an hour Mrs. Jenner returned. She looked at the empty -table, at the heaped up fuel in the grate, and finally her gaze of -loathing and of scorn fell upon the figure by the fire. - -"Still the same selfish brute," she said, resuming her seat and her -work. "My child and I are almost starving, almost without a fire; yet -you devour our small portion and burn our sticks. And why not? What do -our pains matter to you, so long as you are comfortable?" - -"I have had more discomfort than you," grumbled her husband, avoiding -her contemptuous eyes. "Had you been in prison----" - -"I would never have come near those whom I had disgraced," she finished -swiftly, and went on with her stitching. - -The culprit writhed. - -"Lizzie," he said, "do not be too hard on me. I have sinned, but I have -been punished. You might forgive me now." - -"Never!" said the wife, curtly, and the expression of her eyes told him -that she fully meant what she said. - -"How hard women can be." - -"Women," remarked Mrs. Jenner, shifting the work on her knee, "are -what men make them. You behaved to me like the brute that you are; you -cannot blame me, then, if I treat you according to your nature. I live -for our child--to make amends for what you have done. Therefore, I have -an object in life. Had I not, I would gladly die; and I would gain -death--a shameful death--by killing you." - -The terrible intensity of her gaze made the guilty wretch shiver. "I -will make it up to you," he said, feebly. - -"Not you. You will go on just the same--that is if I will let you--and -that I don't intend to do." - -"I shall have money soon--plenty of money." - -"What! Are you going to steal again? I want none of your ill-gotten -gains. This house is poor, but it is honest. I earn the food my child -and I eat, or I beg it; but stealing? No, I leave that to you. Why have -you come here?" - -"I thought we might come together again and live a new life." - -Mrs. Jenner threw aside her work and sprang up. "I would rather die," -she said, in a voice of intense hatred. "You treated me like a dog; you -struck me; you starved me; you were unfaithful to me. I would rather -die." - -"It was the drink," Jenner pleaded. "I was all right when I was sober." - -"And were you ever sober?" demanded the woman, bitterly. "Not you. In -spite of all my care you lay in the mire and wallowed like the pig you -are." - -"This is a nice welcome," grumbled the man, beginning to lose his -temper. - -"What did you expect? Tears and kisses, and the killing of the fatted -calf? No, my man; I have been a fool too long. I am no fool now. You -have hunted me down; how, I know not. But you don't stay here. You go. -And, this time you go--for ever." - -"My rights as a husband and a father----" - -"A criminal has no rights," interrupted his wife. "Think of the past," -she went on in a loud, hard voice. "Think of it, and then wonder at -your audacity in coming here to face me--me whom you have ruined." - -"I don't want to think of the past--and I won't. Leave it alone. It's -dead and done with." - -"Yes, but the consequences remain. Look at this house--your work. See -my withered looks--your work. Think of the child and his mysterious -illness--your work. You forget all that you have done. I do not; and I -intend to refresh your memory." - -Jenner turned sullen. There was no chance of escaping from this, save -by going out again into the storm, and he was much too comfortable -where he was. So of the two evils he chose the lesser; and even in this -his selfish regard for his own comfort shewed itself. "Go on, then," he -growled, sullenly. - -The woman returned to her seat, and averting her eyes she began to -speak in a low, monotonous voice, rising ever and growing more excited -as she went through the story of shame and sorrow. - -"Let me begin at the beginning, when I was governess to Mr. Cass's -little girl; then I was happy and respected. I was pretty, too, and -admired. Mr. Cass was a merchant in the city, trading in Spanish -wines----" - -"What's the use of telling me all this?" broke in Jenner, impatiently. -"It is all state. I was a clerk in Cass's office; I met you at his -house when I was there on business, and I married you----" - -"Yes, you married me," she cried, fiercely. "The more fool I for being -taken by your good looks and your plausible tongue. For my sake it was -that Mr. Cass raised you to a higher position and gave you a larger -salary. We lived in Bloomsbury, and there, ten years ago, Gilbert was -born; but not until you had broken my heart and ruined my life." - -"Come now, I was kind to you when I was sober." - -"And were you ever sober? No; you poor, weak fool. Because you had a -good voice and musical talents you were led away by pleasure, and for -months before Gilbert was born you behaved towards me in a way no woman -could forgive. I was high-spirited, and I resented your conduct--your -dissipation and your unfaithfulness." - -"You were always on your high horse, if that is what you mean." - -"I had every reason to be on my high horse, you brute. Remember the -birth of Gilbert--how I suffered--how you were drunk the whole time. -And when I got better I found that Mr. Cass had dismissed you for -appropriating money." - -Jenner sneered. "Cass made a great fuss about nothing." - -"You know as well as I do what Mr. Cass is. His mother was Spanish, and -he had a fiery temper. He had treated you well, and you repaid him by -taking what belonged to him. He dismissed you, but for my sake, because -I had been his child's governess, he did not prosecute you." - -"Ah! I always thought you and Mr. Cass were great friends." - -"That was your own foul mind," cried the woman, contemptuously. "Mr. -Cass was an honourable man. If it had been his partner, Marshall, now, -then perhaps--yes." - -"I know all about Marshall, thank you, Lizzie," he said, chuckling, and -his eyes wandered to the brown horse on the table. - -"Thinking of your association with him, I suppose?" she sneered. "He -took you up simply on account of your voice, and then dropped you when -he found out what a drunkard you were." - -"Yes, he did," said Jenner, between his teeth. "And I swore to be -revenged on him; and some day I will. If you care to listen, I'll -tell----" - -"I wish to hear nothing," she interrupted. "Mr. Marshall is not a man I -admire--a dissipated rake, that's what he is. Still, he is Mr. Cass's -partner, and for the sake of Mr. Cass I wish to hear nothing against -him. Besides, he is going to marry Miss Cass." - -"What--Inez Cass-the sister of my old master?" cried Jenner, looking up. - -"Yes. Do you know of any reason why he should not?" - -"No," said the man, slowly; "but I wish I had known that two hours ago." - -"Why two hours?" - -"Oh, you don't want to hear anything against Marshall, so I won't tell." - -His wife glanced contemptuously at him. "I suppose you mean blackmail," -she said. "Blackmail Miss Cass and Mr. Marshall, if you like, and -go back to gaol if it pleases you. I have done with you and your -wickedness." - -"We'll see about that," he cried. - -"Don't interrupt me, please," his wife said, with an imperative wave of -her hand. "I want to go on with my story." - -"I don't want to hear any more." - -"But you shall hear to the end. Listen, Mr. Cass dismissed you for -dishonesty, and you took to the stage on the strength of your voice. -You know the life you led me. I forgave you over and over again for -the child's sake. But it was all of no use. Then at last drink spoilt -your voice, and you could get no engagements and Mr. Marshall, although -you did not deserve it, got you a situation in that moneylender's -office--I forget the name--the----" - -"Old Julian Roper." - -"Yes, Julian Roper. You got the situation four years ago, and for a -time things went well; then you broke out again and stole money from -your new employer. He was not so lenient as Mr. Cass, and he had you -put in gaol for three years." - -"Well; I'm out now." - -"You are," said his wife, and there was intense hatred in her voice. -"Out to see how I have sunk. After your imprisonment your creditors -sold up the house and furniture in Bedford-park; I was turned out on -the streets with my child. Mr. Cass got me a place as governess; then -it came out that I was the wife of a convict, and I lost the situation. -I was driven from one engagement to another. Finally I came down here -to ask charity from Mr. Cass. He would have done much for me, but for -his sister. Inez is one of your cold, cruel women who kick the fallen. -She blamed me for being your wife, and she set her brother against me. -All I could get was this tumble-down hovel, where I live rent free. I -earn my bread by sewing for the people in the village two miles on. -Sometimes Miss Cass insults me by sending me broken victuals--you have -just eaten some--and I am so poor that I accept the scraps. Such is my -life, but I would rather live it than go with you." - -"I don't want you to go with me," said the man, rising. "I want to make -you happy by giving you money." - -"Have you any? And, if so, where did you get it?" - -"I have none just yet, but I soon shall have. At the present moment I -am the possessor of two coppers"--he produced them. "But in a week I -shall have hundreds." - -"And then you will go to gaol again," said his wife. "No, thank you, -I don't want to have anything to do with you. I have suffered quite -enough at your hands. How could I live with you when the child hates -you so?" - -"That's all your fault!" - -"Not altogether, as I said before. His hatred of you is pre-natal; but -I have fostered that hatred until--well, you saw how he received you -to-night." - -"You are pitiless," he said, hoarsely. - -"I am what you have made me. Do you think I would allow my child to -love you who have treated his mother so ill? He will never look upon -you save with loathing and hate. I would die for the boy; it is the -strongest passion of my nature, this love for him. Do you think I would -share that love with you? No; Gilbert hates you--he always will--and as -I said before, I have done my utmost to foster his hate. Oh, I thought -I was sate from you here. Who told you of my hiding-place?" - -"Marshall," said Jenner, sulkily. - -"Ah you have seen him. And did he speak to you--a gaol-bird?" - -"Yes, he did. I made him speak to me." - -His wife looked curiously at him and significantly. "It is as I -thought," she said. "You know something about him, and you have come -down to blackmail him or Miss Cass. Well, go and do it, and get back -into gaol if you can. I should be glad to see you in prison again. As -it is, out you go--now!" - -"I have no money--no shelter." - -"I will give you five shillings," she said. "With that you can go to -the village inn--it is only two miles away." - -Jenner took out his red pocket-book and laid it on the table near the -window. "I have a pencil and paper in this," he said. "What you lend me -I will give you an I.O.U. for. I don't want your money." - -"I decline," said his wife, turning from the open window, out of which -she had been leaning. "Once the money passes into your hands it becomes -too vile for me to touch again. Wait here, and I will get you the five -shillings." - -He sprang forward, almost beside himself, and seized her wrist. "You -wretch--I'll give you a thrashing for this." - -Mrs. Jenner shook off his hand, new to the fireplace and snatched up -the poker. "You lay a finger on me, and I'll kill you," she cried, -wildly. "You foul beast--your very touch is poison. I am not the woman -I was to put up with your brutality. Stand back, you gaol-bird." - -He backed towards the open window, and began to whimper. "Don't be such -a virago," he said. "I don't want to touch you. If you will give me the -money I will go away. But you have lost the chance of a fortune," he -boasted, shaking the red pocket-book. "I can get hundreds--hundreds." - -"In the usual way," she said, and laid down the poker. "Then you will -be locked up again. I hope you will." - -"Can I not take leave of the child?" - -"No, unless you want him to try and kill you again. Besides, he is in a -trance; he will waken as suddenly as he fell into it. But I hope, for -your sake, that you will be out of the house before he recovers his -senses." - -"Do you think--" - -"I don't think--I know. All his life Gilbert will hate you. He is -highly neurotic, and when he gets besides himself he will do things as -mad as would an hysterical woman. He is not to be trusted--no more am -I--so beware of us both, and place the sea between yourself and us." - -"A very good idea," he said, coolly. "I'll emigrate." - -"Do. Go to Sydney--which was formerly Botany Bay. That ought to suit -you," she taunted. "Stop there," she snatched up the poker again, "or I -will not answer for myself." - -Her husband laid down the buck-handled knife and placed it on the table -beside the pocket-book. He had taken it up with an oath when his wife -goaded him with her tongue. "Get the five, shillings," he said, sulkily. - -"It is upstairs." Still carrying the poker, Mrs. Jenner moved towards -the inner door. "I can tell you so much, for you will never find my -hiding-place. Wait here." - -When she had gone her husband remained by the table with his hand on -the red pocket-book. His eyes sought the brown horse. "I must take you -with me, too," he muttered. "I shall never see her or the child again. -It is better so; I hope she won't be long." And he waited in sulky -silence. - -Suddenly there was the cry of a human being in pain. The light was -extinguished, and the mists closed thicker round the ruined building; -it might be to hide the sight within the room. Could the wails only -have spoken they would have shouted "Murder!" with most miraculous -voice. But the age of miracles being past, the walls were dumb, and -there was no clamour to greet the horror of this deed done in darkness. -But the mists wrapped themselves round the place of death, and a -profound silence shut down on the desolate country. - -It was broken at last by the sound of light footsteps. Along the -disused road a woman carrying a child in her arms tore along at a -furious rate. She did not know where she was going; she had no goal. -All that she desired was to get away from the thing which lay in the -darkness of that poor room. Horror was behind her; danger before. And -she ran on, on through the mists and the gloom, pursued by the Furies. -Like hounds on the track, they drove her along the lonely roads until -the mists swallowed her up; and these, growing ever more dense, blotted -out the woman, blotted out the country, blotted out the Turnpike House. -But what they could not blot out was that silent room where a dead man -lay. Better had they done so; better had they obliterated that evidence -of evil from the face of the earth. But what had been done in the -darkness had yet to be shewn in the light; and then--but the woman fled -on wearied feet, fled, ever fled through the gloom, and the friendly -mists covered her escape. - -And so did the ruined Turnpike-House become possessed of its legend. -For many a long year the horror of it was discussed beside winter -fires. The place was haunted, and the ghost had walked first upon that -very night, when the woman, bearing the child, had fled away into the -darkness. - - - - -CHAPTER III. -YOUNG LOVE, TRUE LOVE. - - -It was Christmas-time, many years after the events narrated in the -previous chapter, and the snow not only lay thick on the ground but was -falling heavily from a leaden sky. A strong wind which rose with the -coming of the night drove through the leafless trees of the park and -clashed iron music from among their frozen boughs. - -Beyond the red brick wall which encircled Hollyoaks Park the frozen -road ran straight to the village of Westham, and the one street of that -hamlet was crowded with people returning homeward laden with purchases -for the next day. - -But if it was wintry out of doors, within the mansion of Mr. Cass all -was colour and warmth and tropical leafage. The merchant's mother had -been an Andalusian, and perhaps some far-off strain of Moorish blood -had constrained her son to build his house on Moorish lines. When Mr. -Cass, some twenty years ago, had bought Hollyoaks from the decayed -county family who then owned it, the manor-house had been but lately -destroyed by fire. The purchaser found a pleasant country, a beautiful -park, but no place where he and his family could lay their heads. So -he proceeded to erect what the countryside called "Cass's Folly"--a -true Moorish dwelling-place such as one finds in Seville and Cordova. -A series of low buildings clustered round a central court, or, as it -would be called in Spain, a patio. This, in deference to the English -climate, had been roofed in with glass and turned into a winter garden. -The roof was protected against the elements by a close iron frame-work, -which was yet sufficiently open to admit the light. But it is rarely -that the sun shines with full strength in the Midlands; so it happened -that this garden was usually pervaded by a fascinating twilight. - -This large space was filled with tropical foliage; palms rose tall and -stately from an undergrowth of oddly-shaped plants with serpentine -and hairy foliage interspersed with brilliant flowers. What with the -diapered pavement, the white marble pillars of the corridor, and all -this tropical fecundity, the spectacle was brilliant and strange to -English eyes. - -This striking interior, however, made a special appeal to the emotions -of a tall, slim young man who was seated in a lounging-chair beside -the pool. He had arrived from London only two hours before, after an -uncomfortable journey in the cold. He remembered his last Christmas -spent at Hollyoaks, when he had arrived much about the same time and -had been greeted with the same splendour. Then he had been a stranger; -now he was well known to the Cass family, best of all to the youngest -daughter of the house. But where was she now? Why was she not here to -greet him? - -His colour came and went now as he thought of the girl he was about to -meet, the girl who was all the world to him. He tugged nervously at -his small golden moustache, and his blue eyes blinked at the dazzling -colours of the flowers. But there was something about the boy--for -he was no more than twenty-three--which brought conviction that his -spirit was more manly than his looks would have one believe. His air -was resolute; his figure, though slim, was athletic; yet withal he was -nervous and emotional in the extreme. And, after all, this was how it -should be, for Neil Webster's fame as a violinist of rare promise was -well known. Already he had made a name for himself both in England and -America. - -With such a temperament it was not wonderful that he should love Ruth -Cass, who also was of a highly sensitive nature. Neil thought of her -now with an intensity inspired by the memory of the joy she had been -to his appreciative eye when, last Christmas, he had seen her for the -first time. - -As the young man sat there wrinkling his brows in the effort to recall -completely the memory of Ruth's first appearance, a side door opened -and she herself appeared. With light steps she stole forward, and -laying her gloved hands upon his eyes she laughed out of sheer joy. - -"Who is it?" she asked, gaily. "I give you three guesses." - -Neil turned, took her hands and kissed them. "As if I needed more than -one," he said, with light reproach. "I should not be a true lover did I -not guess your presence even without seeing you." - -"Yet you didn't, you didn't," sang the girl. "I came upon you unawares." - -"But I knew yow were coming, for I felt it in my heart. Come, let me -look at my rose of Sharon. It is six long weary weeks since I saw you." - -She made a little curtsey, and then stood demurely before him. To a -stranger she would have been almost a great a surprise as the house -itself. And she was in keeping with it--the beautiful Andalusian -Marquise of de Musset's ballad come to life in foggy England. The -Quaker name of Ruth suited ill with that rich southern beauty. Had she -been called Cleopatra, that Royal name would well have matched her -appearance. Although but twenty years of age she was already in the -full bloom of womanly loveliness. Of no great height, she possessed -one of those perfect figures seen only in Spain. She walked with the -swaying, graceful gait of the Andalusian woman. An olive skin, large, -liquid eyes of midnight blackness, lips scarlet as a pomegranate -blossom, full and a trifle voluptuous. - -As became a daughter of the South, Ruth was arrayed in a ravishing -dinner-dress of black and gold which suited her swarthy beauty. In the -coils of her blue-black hair she wore sparkling diamonds; the same -stones blazed on neck and wrists, and in this splendour she seemed -to the excited eyes of her lover like some gorgeous tropical flower -blossoming beneath ardent skies. - -"Come now," she said, sinking into a chair. "We have just a few minutes -before the others come in, and they are not to be passed in silence." - -"Who are the others?" Neil asked, taking a chair beside her. - -She waved a fan of black and yellow feathers from which, true daughter -of Spain as she was, she would not part even in winter. - -"Oh, all the people you have met here before," she said, smoothing -her dainty gloves. "My father, Jennie Brawn, my uncle and aunt, and -Geoffrey Heron." - -As she pronounced the last name Ruth stole a laughing glance at her -lover. And, as she had expected, a shadow came over his face, and his -colour went and came like that of a startled girl. - -"Oh, is he here?" was his comment. "He is a very good sort of fellow." - -"Too good for your taste, Monsieur Othello," laughed Miss Cass, tapping -his flushed cheek with her fan. "I see how it is. You think he is a -rival." - -"I don't think it, I know it. Ruth." - -"Well," with a coquettish toss of her head, "perhaps he is. But you -think, moreover, that I admire him. I do, as one might admire a -picture. He is good-looking and very nice----" - -"I can't contradict you," interrupted the young man. - -"But," she resumed smoothly, "he is not clever, he is not musical, and -he is not the most jealous man in the world." - -"Meaning me, I suppose?" - -"Of course. Who else should I mean? Come. I won't have your forehead -wrinkled." She brushed the lines away with her fan. "Smile, Neil, -smile, or I won't speak to you all night." - -He could not withstand her charming humour, and he did smile. But, in -spite of all, he shook his head ruefully. - -"It's all very well making a joke of it," he said. "I know you love me -as I love you, but your father--he knows nothing of our attachment." - -"My father? Pooh! I can twist him round my finger." - -"I am not so sure of that. Remember, I have known him many years. He -can be hard when he likes, and in this case he will be hard. He is -rich, has a position, while I----" - -"While you are Neil Webster, the great violinist." - -"Oh that is all right," he said, dismissing his artistic fame with a -nod. "But I mean I do not know who my parents are. I never heard of -them." - -"Perhaps, like Topsy, you growed," Ruth said, for she attached no -importance to his speech. "Dear! What does it matter?" - -"A great deal to a proud man like your father. Yet he may know my -parents since he brought me up. I'll ask him." - -"Papa brought you up, Neil? I never knew that. I thought he met you -at some house in London, and asked you here because he is so fond of -music." - -The young man frowned and tugged at his moustache. His colour changed. -"I should not have told you," he said, in a low voice, "but my tongue -runs away with me. We have often talked of my early life." - -"Let me see," said Miss Cass, gravely mischievous. "I think you did say -something about having been brought up in the South of England." - -"At Bognor," he explained. "An old woman, Mrs. Jent, looked after me -there. When it became apparent that I had musical talent your father -had me taught on the Continent. I appeared first in America, where I -was trained under Durand, the great violinist. I made a success and -returned to London; then----" - -"Then he brought you down here a year ago, and in six months we fell in -love with one another, and----" - -"I loved you from the first," he cried. - -"How rash!" remarked the girl, pursing her mouth demurely. "But we will -say nothing about that. We love now, that is sufficient. But tell me -how it was my father first came on the scene of your life? I know much -that you have told me: but my father--that is something new." - -"I can remember him ever since I was a young child--from the age of -ten." - -"Oh then he did not come to you before that?" - -Webster paused, then turning towards her made an extraordinary speech. -"I don't know. I can't recollect my life before that." - -"Oh, dear me!" cried Miss Cass, not quite taking in the meaning of his -words. "What a stupid child you must have been! Why, I recollect all -sorts of things which happened when I was five." - -"I don't mean that exactly," said Webster, "but my first recollection -is my recovery from a long illness, and all my memories date from that -time. What came before--where I was born, where brought up--is a blank." - -"What did Mrs. Jent tell you?" cried the girl, now anxious to solve the -mystery. "She told me I was born in America, somewhere near New York, -that my father had played in an orchestra, and that my mother had been -a singer. I fell ill somewhere about my tenth year, and since then -I have seen your father frequently, but I have never questioned him -closely. However, I will speak to him to-morrow, and at the same time I -will tell him that I love you. - -"Then he will consent to our engagement," Miss Cass said, promptly. - -"I wonder!" Again Neil drew his hand across his face. "It does not seem -a satisfactory past. I always feel there is some mystery about it." - -"Mystery! What nonsense!" cried Ruth, with pretty disbelief. "I am -certain that what Mrs. Jent has told you is true, and the illness made -you forget your childish days. My father has been good to you for -reasons which he will no doubt tell me. And, since he has always helped -you, and has, so to speak, been a father to you, he will not forbid our -marriage. Why did you not tell me all this before?" - -Webster looked puzzled. "I hardly know," he murmured. "Something always -kept me silent, and I talked, as you remember, more about my career as -an artist than anything else." - -"But you never said that my father paid for your studies," persisted -Ruth. - -"No, that is quite true. But I kept silent on that point because he -asked me to. He is a man who likes to do good by stealth, but he did -not ask me to be silent on any other point, so I might have told you -all that I have said to-night long ago. I tell you now about your -father in spite of his prohibition, as I want you to know everything -concerning me. Should we be fortunate enough to gain his consent, I -don't want you to remain in ignorance of his kindness. But shall we -ever marry?" he sighed. - -"Of course we shall," said Ruth, imperiously. "I have made up my mind." - -"Ah! but your father has not made up his, Ruth," he seized her hands, -"do you really love me? If you do not----" - -"Don't get excited, Neil. If I did not love you I should tell you so. -But I do love you, how, dearly you will never know." - -"But it may be--my music you love," he urged. - -"Conceited boy," laughed Miss Cass. "Of course I love your music, but I -love you for yourself as well. Speak to my father. We will not keep our -engagement secret any longer." - -"I feel that we should not have kept it secret at all," murmured the -young man. "After your father's kindness to me I feel somewhat of a -traitor." - -"You can lay the blame on me," announced the girl, calmly. "I wished -it to be kept quiet on account of Aunt Inez. You know what she is--a -jealous woman always putting her finger into everyone's pie. I'm sure -she has quite enough to do in looking after her own husband. He is a -wicked, gay old man, is uncle Marshall." - -"I don't think Mrs. Marshall likes me." - -"That is why I kept our secret. She does not like you; why, I do not -know. And had she discovered our engagement she would have told my -father and put an end to it long ago." - -"Well, perhaps Mr. Cass will put an end to it even now." - -Ruth looked round to see that no one was &bout, and then dropped a -butterfly kiss on his forehead. - -"Darling, nothing shall part us. I love you, and you only, you foolish -fellow." - -"And are you sure, quite sure, you care nothing about Heron?" - -"No, no, of course I don't. But I will if you insist on putting your -arm round my waist. Gracious! Here is Aunt Inez!" - -And at this moment an elderly double of Ruth sailed into the winter -garden. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. -A STRANGE EPISODE. - - -Mrs. Marshall had reached the mature age of forty-five, but she was -still beautiful. Dark women with hard natures always wear well, and -Ruth's aunt was no exception to the rule. She need not be described -here, for she resembled her niece in all particulars save those of -youth and the exuberant spirits, which rendered the younger woman so -charming. Tall and dignified in her black velvet dress, she advanced to -greet Neil, and her greeting was that of the Ice Queen. - -"You must have had an unpleasant journey," she said, in freezing tones. - -"Thank you," said Webster, with a certain reserve. "I had not a very -pleasant time. But this makes amends," and his eyes wandered to Ruth. - -Mrs. Marshall drew her thick eyebrows together, for she had long -suspected that the two young people were more to each other than -ordinary friends. But at that moment Ruth was equal to the occasion. -Her attitude towards Neil was one of genial hospitality. - -Neither of the young people attempted to carry on the conversation, -and Mrs. Marshall was somewhat at a loss. Turning at last to Ruth, she -asked sharply where the remainder of the guests were. - -"Dinner will be ready in a quarter of an hour," she went on, consulting -a jewelled watch that hung at her girdle. "I hope we shall sit down -punctually, for I detest waiting." - -"So do I," assented her niece, cheerfully. "I am hungry." - -The elder lady took no notice of the flippant reply. "Have you been -giving any concerts lately?" she asked, with the supercilious patronage -of a rich society woman. - -"No, madam," replied the young man. His frequent contact with foreign -artists had accustomed him to this form of address. "The season in -London is hardly propitious just now. I am resting." - -"When do you begin again?" - -"After the new year. It is possible I may give some concerts in Paris." - -"It might be advisable for you to leave England for a time," the lady -said, drily, looking at Ruth. - -"My aunt is thinking of your delicate appearance, Mr. Webster," -interposed the girl, trying to parry the stroke. "This foggy climate -does not suit you in her opinion. Is that not so, Aunt Inez?" - -"Well, it is not quite what I meant, Ruth." And she turned to Neil. -"Have you any relatives in England. Mr. Webster?" she asked. - -The suddenness of the question took away the young man's breath. It was -evident that her brother had not confided in Mrs. Marshall. - -"I have no relatives in the world, madam," he said. - -"You remind me of someone," she went on, fixing her black eyes on him -somewhat fiercely. "Do you sing?" - -"Not at all," he answered, wondering more than ever at the oddity of -this second question. "I have no voice." - -"Humph!" muttered the lady, and turned away. "I must be mistaken." - -"You are certainly mistaken, madam, in crediting me with any relatives. -I am an orphan, a waif, a stranger in the land----" - -"And a great violinist," finished Ruth, glancing defiantly at her aunt. -"That surely ought to cover all deficiencies, Mr. Webster." - -"No doubt it does--to musical people," said the elder lady, coldly. - -The young man felt nettled, and more puzzled than ever at her manner, -and he was about to ask a leading question when Miss Jennie Brawn, -accompanied by Mr. Heron, entered. - -"Oh, here you are," cried Ruth, including both in one gay greeting. -"You are late." - -"The sacred mysteries of the toilet have taken up Miss Brawn's time," -laughed Heron, looking mischievously at the homely face of the girl -beside him. - -"One must do honour to the season," replied Jennie. She was dumpy -and sandy and wore a pince-nez on her turned-up nose. "How are you, -Master?" For she always spoke to Neil Webster in that style. "I am glad -to see you. Your lovely and exquisite music never fails to inspire my -muse." - -Put into plain prose this speech meant that Miss Brawn wrote poems -for drawing-room ballad composers, and that she trusted to music for -inspiration. Miss Brawn further occupied herself with writing short -stories for children's Christmas books, and she figured in a popular -magazine as "Aunt Dilly." She had come to regard herself as a literary -personage. - -"I hope I may be able to inspire you to some I purpose to-night," -Webster said, quietly. - -Young Heron turned away in disdain. He was a handsome country squire, -possessed of no nerves, and no artistic cravings. He came of an old -family, and had an income of four thousand a year. His time was spent -in hunting, polo, shooting, fishing, and tearing round the country in a -motor-car: and he had not much opinion of the "fiddler-fellow," as he -called Webster. But this was due to the fact that he had noticed Ruth's -predilection for him, not to any fault in the man himself. For Geoffrey -loved the girl. He treated Webster with a coldness almost equal to that -of Mrs. Marshall. That lady was his firm friend, and was most anxious -that he should marry her niece. Seeing now his look of disdain, she was -about to speak, when a cheerful voice was heard above the others. - -"Oh, here is my husband," Mrs. Marshall cried, her dark face lighting -up. "I was wondering where he had got to." - -"I am here, my dear Inez, here," and a brisk, stout man darted forward. -"Ruth, my dear, you look charming! Miss Brawn, allow me to congratulate -you upon your toilet. Mr. Webster, good evening." His manner was colder -but with renewed geniality he shook hands with Geoffrey Heron. "Ha, ha, -my boy! a merry Christmas to you!" - -The voluble, active little man rattled on, cutting jokes, laughing -at his own wit, and paying compliments all round, while his tall, -dark wife stood near him listening with a smile on her face. Why Mrs. -Marshall should love her husband so much remained ever a mystery to her -friends. For he was a fat, beer-barrel of a creature, and possessed -neither the looks nor the brains which would be likely to attract as -refined and clever a woman as his wife undoubtedly was. Yet Inez adored -him, although Mr. Robert Marshall was an elderly Don Juan, fond of -the society of pretty girls, and he prided himself no little on his -conquests. There was undoubtedly some charm about him which raptured -the hearts of women. And Mrs. Marshall, as the lawful proprietor of -this universal heart-breaker, took a pride in her proprietorship. - -"I hope you will give us some music to-night," Mr. Marshall said, -turning to the musician, and again his manner was freezing. "Your -playing is delightful--delightful!" - -"I am glad you like it," Neil said, quietly. "Of course, I am always -ready to play here, although, as a rule, I never do so in private -houses." - -"Ha! The exclusiveness of a musician." - -"Or the dignity of an artist, Uncle Robert." - -"Quite so, my dear," said Uncle Robert, turning towards his niece. -"But, of course, Mr. Webster will not wrap his talents up in a napkin -here." - -"The Master is always willing to oblige his friends," put in Jennie. - -"His friends are much honoured," added Aunt Inez, with an iron smile. - -Mr. Heron made no remark. In shaking hands with Webster he had done his -duty. In his own heart the young squire wished the fellow well out of -the way, for Ruth looked at him too often and much too kindly. - -A diversion was made at this moment by the entrance of the host, a -tall, slightly-made man, dark and solemn--a typical Spaniard both in -complexion and bearing. To-night he was in a genial mood, and unbent -more than usual. Nevertheless, although he shook hands with Neil, he -was decidedly colder to him than to the rest of his guests. Indeed, it -was apparent that Neil was not a favourite. - -"A merry Christmas to all," Mr. Cass said, bowing. "Perhaps I am rather -premature; still, it is better to be early than late." - -"So long as you adopt that plan with your presents, papa, I shall not -quarrel with you." - -"You see what a bold daughter I have," he remarked to Heron. "How would -you like to be her father?" - -"Not at all, not at all," replied the young man with a very significant -glance in the direction of Ruth--a glance which made Neil's blood boil. - -"Ha, ha!" cackled Marshall. "We know all about that Heron," and he -slapped him on the back. "But come! Dinner--dinner!" - -And, indeed, at that moment dinner was announced. Mr. Cass gave his arm -to his sister, and to his delight Geoffrey found himself seated beside -Ruth; poor Neil had Mrs. Marshall for his companion. Neither of the two -relished their juxtaposition. Jennie and Don Juan-in-his-Dotage were -happy in the congenial company of each other, and kept the table merry. - -The conversation only flickered feebly with Mr. Marshall's aimless -merriment. Neil, annoyed by the coldness of his reception, was -considering the advisability of a return to town the next day; he -thought he recognised Mrs. Marshall's hand in the chilly reception -of Mr. Cass. For hitherto the merchant had treated him with uniform -kindness, and he was puzzled by this new departure. - -When the ladies had retired to the winter garden Mr. Cass was more -amiable to his guest, the violinist. And the young man, anxious to -please, did his best to make himself agreeable. Heron and Marshall were -discussing county affairs; so the merchant and young Webster had a -quiet talk. - -"I am making a good deal of money now," Neil said. He was recounting -his artistic triumphs. "In a few years I shall be a wealthy man." - -"You must let me invest your capital for you. You artistic folks know -little about business." - -"I should be more than grateful if you would. I daresay, in time, there -will be enough for me to marry on." - -Mr. Cass looked keenly at the speaker from under his thick black brows. -"Are you thinking of marrying?" he asked, carelessly. Then, without -waiting for an answer: "I would not if I were you." - -"Why not? I am young, strong----" - -"And nervous," finished his host abruptly. "I have peculiar views about -marriage, and I do not think you are fitted for it. Take my advice, -and keep single. Come," he started to his feet before the other could -reply, "let us join the ladies." - -Webster was annoyed. He had fully intended there and then--since the -opportunity seemed to offer itself--to ask Mr. Cass for his daughter's -hand. Plunged in meditation, he did not see that the object of it was -beckoning to him with her very useful fan, and Heron, taking advantage -of his absorption, secured the vacant seat. Before he could recover -himself, Mr. Cass appeared to carry him off to the drawing-room. - -"You must play to me," he said. "Miss Brawn will accompany you; she -plays well." - -Jennie did, indeed, play more like a professional than an amateur; and -Webster, anxious as ever to please, got his violin. The sounds of the -exquisite music which he drew from the wailing strings brought everyone -to the drawing-room. - -Then Geoffrey Heron sang, and sang well. He chose a typical -drawing-room ballad, flat and insipid. The music, of a lilting order, -suited the words--Miss Jennie Brawn's--which were full of mawkish -sentiment. - -The song was not yet finished when Mr. Marshall suddenly rose and -hurriedly left the room. His wife looked after him with an uneasy -smile, and shortly afterwards followed, to find him in the winter -garden. - -"What is the matter?" she asked, sharply, though she knew quite well -what it was that had stirred him. - -"Jenner," stammered her husband, lifting up a white face. "Heron's -voice reminds me of his. I have never heard him sing before." - -"Nor will you again if you make such a fool of yourself. What do you -mean by rushing out of the room and provoking remark? Jenner is dead -and buried these twelve years." - -"Yes; but think how he died," moaned her husband. "And I was so -intimate with him." - -"You were--to your shame and disgrace. Don't behave so foolishly, -Robert. I don't know what put him into your head in the first place." - -"Heron's voice is so like his--and the looks of Webster." - -Mrs. Marshall turned as pale as her swarthy skin permitted, and the fan -in her hand shook. "What about him?" she asked. - -"He is like----" - -"I know who he is like," she interrupted, sharply. "A mere chance -resemblance. Come back with me." - -"I am going to bed," was the only response, and, turning abruptly, Mr. -Marshall fled up the stairs, leaving his wife gazing after him with a -black frown on her face. - -"I wonder if that young man--but no; it's impossible. Sebastian," she -spoke of her brother, "would not go so far." And after composing herself -with a glass of water she returned to the drawing-room. - -By this time Webster was seated beside Ruth, who was shewing him a book -of photographs. Geoffrey Heron was talking to Mr. Cass, and casting -glances at the two young people who were getting on much too well for -his liking. - -Suddenly the whole room was startled by a cry. It came from Neil, who, -with a white face, was staring at a photograph. - -"What's the matter?" asked his host, hurrying towards him. "Are you -ill?" - -"Who-who-is this?" stammered young Webster, pointing to the portrait of -a thick-set man who figured in a group. - -"An old clerk of mine," replied Mr. Cass, trying hard to steady his -voice. "That is a photograph of the clerks in my office some twenty -years ago. Why should that face disturb you?" - -"I--I--don't know," was the stammering reply. "Have I seen him in a -dream? His face is quite familiar to me." - -"Pooh! Nonsense!" Mr. Cass had by this time recovered his self-command. -"The man died long ago you never saw him." - -"But I have seen him," persisted Neil. "I have seen him in a dream, -and"--his voice leaped an octave--"I hate him," he exclaimed with -passion. "I hate him." - -They all stared in amazement. Suddenly Ruth cried "Neil--you are -ill--you----" - -"Stop!" cried her father, sharply. "He has fainted." - -And as he spoke Neil fell back insensible on the cushions. - - - - -CHAPTER V. -A SHADOW OF THE PAST. - - -Webster recovered from his fainting-fit, but he was weak and ill. It -seemed extraordinary that the sight of a pictured face should have had -such an influence upon him. He himself could give no explanation save -that he had been overcome by a feeling of nausea. So, after an apology, -he went at once to bed. The party broke up, and Ruth retired, wondering -greatly at her lover's strange indisposition. - -Half an-hour later she was seated before her bedroom fire in -dressing-gown and slippers. Having dismissed her maid, she indulged -herself in a reverie with which Neil Webster and her chances of -obtaining her father's consent to her marriage with him were mainly -concerned. - -She was aroused by a knock at the door, and in reply to her invitation -Mrs. Marshall entered the room. At the first glimpse of that iron face -the girl remembered a slip she had made in addressing her lover by his -Christian name. - -"You are in love with that violinist," said the elder woman, sitting -down and fixing her niece with a piercing gaze. - -"How do you know that?" asked the girl, coolly. She had been -half-prepared for the question in spite of Mrs. Marshall's abrupt -entry. In fact, for that very reason she kept on her guard. - -"Pshaw!" ejaculated Aunt Inez, with scorn. "Cannot one woman divine the -feelings of another? Your eyes were never off the creature to-night." - -"Mr. Webster is not a creature," interrupted the girl, angrily. - -"Mr. Webster!" sneered the other. "Why not Neil? You called him so -to-night." - -"Yes," said Ruth, defiantly, throwing off her mask. "And I shall call -him so again. You are right; I do love him. And he loves me." - -"I thought as much. And the end of this mutual passion?" - -"Marriage?" - -"Humph! I think your father will have something to say to that." - -"My father will deny me nothing that he thinks will conduce to my -happiness." - -"No doubt. But marriage with this violinist creature hardly comes under -that heading. You know nothing about him." - -"I dare say my father does," retorted Ruth. - -"Very probably," said the elder lady, with venom. "In fact, he may know -sufficient to forbid you entertaining the preposterous idea of becoming -Mrs. Webster. You are a fool, Ruth! Because the man is handsome and -a great musician--I deny neither his looks nor his talents--you have -developed a romantic passion for him. I should not be doing my duty did -I fail to warn your father of this folly. To-morrow Mr. Webster will -leave this house for ever." - -"Oh!" cried Ruth with scorn. "And I, no doubt, will marry Geoffrey -Heron. I know your plans, Aunt Inez. But I'm not for sale, thank you." - -"Don't be insolent," cried Mrs. Marshall, with cold fury. "Mr. Heron -loves you." - -"Very probably," rejoined Miss Cass, carelessly. "But then, you see, I -do not love him." - -"Nevertheless, you will become his wife." - -"I would die first." - -"We shall see," and walked to the door. "I am going to tell your father -of this infatuation." - -The girl uttered an exclamation of dismay and sprang forward. But Mrs. -Marshall had already closed the door. - -"I don't care," cried Ruth, clenching her hands. "My love is strong -enough to stand against my father's anger. I love Neil, and I intend -to marry him. All the fathers and aunts in the world shall not prevent -me." And in this determined frame of mind she went to bed. Her hot -Spanish blood was aflame at the idea of contradiction and dictation. -Nor for nothing was Ruth Cass the granddaughter of an Andalusian -spit-fire, and as such was her father's mother traditionally referred -to in the family. - -Meanwhile, Mrs. Marshall, equally hot-blooded and determined, took her -way to the library where she knew her brother frequently remained long -after the rest of the household had retired. He was there, sure enough, -sitting before the fire and staring into it with an anxious expression. -At his sister's entrance he started from his seat. For Inez was the -stormy petrel of the Cass family, and he guessed that her appearance at -this unwonted hour indicated an approaching tempest. - -"What is it?" he asked, irritably. "Why are you not in bed?" - -"Because I have something to say which must be said to-night." - -"Well, what is is?" He dropped back into his chair with a look of -resignation. - -"Who is that man Webster?" - -Her brother's face grow black. "Always the same woman," he said, -angrily. "You will never leave well alone. Webster is a violinist, and -he comes here, at my request, because I admire his talents." - -"I know all that. But who is he?" - -"I refuse to tell you." - -"Will you refuse to tell your daughter?" sneered his sister. - -Cass looked up quickly, and something of dismay came over his face. -"Ruth--what has Ruth to do with him?" - -"This much. They are in love with one another; they are secretly -engaged. Is that a sufficient excuse for my seeing you to-night?" - -"I don't believe it. Webster would not----" - -"Oh, as to that, I don't know what hold you have over him." - -"Hold!" repeated Mr. Cass, rising and beginning to pace the room in an -agitated manner. "What do you mean? I have no hold." - -"In that case you should not have thrown him into the society of an -impressionable fool like Ruth. I got the truth out of her to-night, -though I had long suspected it. She loves him; and what's more she will -defy you and marry him." - -"That she shall never do:" he said vehemently. - -"I tell you she will, and without your consent, unless you can talk her -out of this infatuation and marry her to Heron." - -"There will be no need to talk her out of it." Mr. Cass said, coldly. -"Webster will not marry her." - -"Do you mean that he will refuse?" - -"I mean that he will refuse," he replied with decision. - -"And under your influence?" - -"Under my influence. Yes." - -"Ah!" Aunt Inez drew a long breath, for her suspicions as to the -identity of Webster were now confirmed. "Then you intend to use the -knowledge of his father's murder to influence this so-called Webster?" - -"What do you mean?" Mr. Cass asked angrily. - -"Exactly what I say," retorted his sister. "I am not a fool, if you -are Sebastian, Webster is the son of Jenner, who was murdered at the -Turnpike House. I remember how his mother used to bring him here to beg -for food. He is just the same nervous creature now as he was then. I -could not recollect where I had seen him before until he recognised his -father in that photograph----" - -"He did not recognize his father." - -"Perhaps he did not knew that the face, the sight of which made him -faint, was that of his father," replied Mrs. Marshall. "But his -fainting was quite enough for me. I remember Mrs. Jenner; he resembles -her in every way. He is her son. Deny it if you can." - -"I do not deny it," Cass said sullenly. "But, for Heaven's sake, Inez, -leave things alone, or harm will come of it." - -"Why, in Heaven's name, did you bring him down here?" - -"I never thought he would fall in love with Ruth. I brought him out of -sheer kindness, because I was sorry for the poor, lonely young fellow. -I will arrange the matter. Rest assured he never marry Ruth." - -"I hope not," said Mrs. Marshall, preparing to go. "I have done my -duty." - -"No doubt, but I wonder you dare speak as you do." - -Her face grew hard as stone. "I am never afraid to speak," she said, -haughtily, "or to act. I have set my heart on a marriage between Ruth -and Geoffrey Heron. Webster--as you call him--must go." - -"He shall go," assented Mr. Cass and, satisfied that all was well, his -sister left him. Then he dropped back into his chair with a sigh and -gazed a again into the fire. He foresaw trouble, which there appeared -no means of averting. It was three o'clock before he got to bed. And by -that time he had determined how to act. - -"Webster shall refuse to marry her," he said, "and he shall go away. -She will soon forget him, and end by becoming Mrs. Heron. With Webster -away all will be well." - -Having made his plans, Mr. Cass proceeded to act upon them. He wished -to see for himself if Ruth was really in love with Neil, and to -learn, if possible, the depth and extent of her feelings. With this -scheme in his mind, he was excessively genial to the young man, and -at the breakfast-table on the following morning placed him next his -daughter--a piece of folly which made Mrs. Marshall open her eyes. Ruth -saw her aunt's look, and, in sheer defiance, allowed herself to behave -towards Neil with a somewhat ostentatious friendliness. Naturally -enough, Geoffrey Heron became sulky, while Miss Brawn and Mr. Marshall -kept up a continuous chatter. - -"Well?" Inez said to her brother as they were preparing for church. - -"You are right," he said. "I have no doubt now of her feeling for him." - -"And you will deal with the matter?" - -"You can trust me. I know what to do." - -She was satisfied with this assurance, and set off in a devout frame -of mind, and, taking Geoffrey with her, shewed him very clearly that -she was on his side. Indeed, as they returned to the house after the -Christmas service, he opened his heart to her. Mrs. Marshall told him -that she had seen it all along, and that nothing on her part should -remain undone that would aid in bringing about the marriage. - -"But she is in love with that fiddler-fellow," the disconsolate young -man said. - -"Oh, my dear Mr. Heron," and Mrs. Marshall smiled, "that is only a -girl's love for the arts. She admires his music, as we all do, and -perhaps she shews her appreciation in rather a foolish way. But I -cannot believe she loves him." - -"At all events she does not care for me." - -"Don't be too sure of that. The more she cares for you the more likely -she is to try and conceal her feelings." - -"Why, in Heaven's name?" asked Geoffrey. - -Mrs. Marshall laughed. "Because it is the way of women," she said. - -"Do you think, then, that I ought to speak to her?" - -"Not just now. Wait till Mr. Webster and his too fascinating violin -have taken their departure. Then she will forget this--this Bohemian." - -"Webster isn't a bad sort of fellow," Heron said, apologetically. "In -spite of his long hair, he is something of a sportsman. He has seen a -good deal of the world, too, and he is plucky in his own way. I like -him well enough but, of course, I can't help feeling jealous. You see, -I love Ruth--I may call her Ruth to you--so much." - -"There is no need for jealousy. Ruth will be your wife. I promise you -that; you have me on your side." - -"I won't have her forced into the marriage," he said, sturdily. - -Mrs. Marshall brushed the suggestion aside. - -Neil's unhappy state of mind had taken him out into the cold. The quiet -thoughts of the morning had given way to perfect torture, and he could -in no way account for the change. So far, indeed, as his nerves were -concerned, he never could account for anything in connection with them -any more than could the physicians whom he had consulted. He was the -prey of a highly neurotic temperament which tortured his life, and he -had a vivid imagination which made him exaggerate the slightest worries -into catastrophes. - -An hour's brisk walking over the crisp snow brought him to a solitary -place far from every human habitation. The village had vanished, and -Neil found himself in the centre--as it seemed--of a lonely white world -arched over by a blue sky. All around the landscape was buried in -drifts of snow, which, dazzling white in the sunlight, were painful to -look upon. He walked along some disused roads, guiding himself by the -hedges which ran along the sides. Shortly the sky began to cloud over -rapidly, to assume a leaden aspect; and finally down came the snow. - -He turned his face homewards, anxious to get back before the night came -on. But as the snow fell thicker he grew bewildered, and began to take -the situation seriously. Suddenly, as he trudged along, a building -loomed up before him through the fallen flakes; it stood where four -roads met, and he guessed at once that it was an old turnpike house. On -a nearer approach he saw that it was empty; the windows were broken, -the door was half open, and it was fenced in by a jungle of bushes like -the palace of the Sleeping Beauty. - -"At any rate it will be a shelter," he thought; "and when the storm -clears off I can get home. Only three o'clock," he added, looking at -his watch. "I'll rest a bit." - -He broke his way through the drifts which were piled up before the -door, and stumbled in. The moment his foot touched the threshold a -vague feeling of fear seized upon him; the place was quite empty, -thick with dust and festooned with cobwebs. There was not a stick of -furniture; yet it seemed to him that there should have been a bare deal -table, two deal chairs, and a fire in the grate. "Had he ever been here -before?" he asked himself. But he could find no answer to the question. -Finally, shaking off the feeling of depression which the influence -of this house had brought upon him, he lay down on the bare boards -and tried to sleep away the time. In this way, by the degree of some -mysterious Power, the man was brought back to the room where his father -had been murdered twelve or thirteen years before. And he was ignorant -of the terrible truth. - -The snow continued to fall steadily, but there was no wind. The -absolute quiet was soothing to the tired man, and after a time his eyes -closed. For a while he slept peacefully as a child then his face grew -dark, his teeth and hands clenched themselves, and he groaned in agony. -He dreamt--and this was the manner of his dream: - -He was still in the bare room, but a fire burnt in the grate. A table -and two chairs furnished the apartment, and made apparent the frightful -poverty. The dreamer was no longer a man, but a child playing with -a toy horse by the fire. Near the table sat a woman sewing. Then a -man entered--the man whose face he had seen in the photograph. A -quarrel ensued between him and the woman; the child--the dreamer -himself--became suddenly possessed of a blind rage against the man. -Then all faded in darkness. He was in bed still a child--again in -darkness. Then once more he was in the room. The window was open; near -it lay the dead body of the man, the blood welling from his heart. At -the door stood the woman, a knife in her hand, a look of terror on her -face. Then came rain, and mist, and cold, and the dreamer felt that he -was falling into a gulf of darkness, never again to emerge into the -light of day. But the woman's face, with blue eyes looking from under a -crown of fair hair, still shone like a star in the gloom. It smiled on -the dreamer, then it vanished as he awoke with a cry. - -Neil Webster sprang to his feet with the perspiration beading his -forehead and shaking in every limb. The dream had been so vivid! Was it -but a dream? Here was the room, here the open window, and here, where -he had seen the dead body of the man, black stains of blood marked the -floor. He started back with a cry as he saw it all, and flung himself -out into the snow which still kept falling in thick flakes. Away from -that house he ran, feeling that he had recovered the memory of his -childhood. His father had been murdered. By whom? That was the question -he asked himself as he sped onwards through the snow. - -"Oh Heavens!" he kept murmuring. "What does it all mean? Why was I sent -to that house to learn this terrible truth? Why? Why?" - -But the snow fell ever more thickly, and the young man fled along the -road. In the same way had his mother fled with him in her arms, fled -through the mists to escape the horror of the Turnpike House. - - - -CHAPTER VI. -MR. CASS SPEAKS. - - -Jennie Brawn sat in her bedroom with an agonised took on her face, with -inky fingers and tumbled hair. Miss Brawn was courting the Muse. - -As yet she had had but ill success, for the Muse was not in a kindly -mood. - -"If, dear, thou should'st unhappy be, Remember me, Remember me!" -murmured the poetess. "I think that will do for a refrain. But how am I -to begin? Ah!" with a sudden inspiration. "Spring in the first verse, -summer and roses in the second, then winter and dying for an effective -finish." And she began to thresh out the first lines. - -"The spring is flowering all the world----" - -"Humph!" she broke off. "That sounds as though spring were a baker! I -must try again." - -But before she could think of an alternative line the door burst open -and Ruth rushed in violently, all on fire with excitement. "Jennie! -Jennie! she cried, plumping down on the bed. I've had a proposal!" - -"Oh!" Jennie, quite phlegmatic, laid down her pen. "Geoffrey Heron has -you to be his wife?" - -"That is the plain English of it, I suppose," Ruth said, impatiently. -"Of course I said 'No.'" - -"Of course you did," remarked the prosaic Miss Brawn. For prosaic she -was in ordinary matters, in spite of her poetic gift. "You are in love -with the Master?" She put this in the form of a query. - -"Haven't I told you a thousand times!" cried Miss Cass. "I love him as -dearly as he loves me." - -"That's a pity." - -"Why is it a pity?" asked the girl, her face flushing. - -"Oh. I know you don't like the truth," Jennie went on, calmly. "But I -always tell it, even when it is disagreeable. I don't think you are the -kind of wife to suit the Master. You are too impetuous, too fond of -admiration. You would never be content to take a back seat." - -"I should think not!" cried Miss Cass, indignantly. "Catch me taking -a back seat! I want to admired, to have an ample income and a big -position. I am an individual, not a piece of furniture." - -"Marry Mr. Heron, then," advised Jennie, "and you will have all you -wish for. He belongs to a good county family, and can give you a -position in society. He has a handsome income, and with your own dowry -as well you would be rich." - -"But I love Neil," persisted Ruth, piteously. - -"Oh, no, you don't. You think you love him, but you are only attracted -by his charm of manner." - -"I believe you want to marry him yourself," cried Ruth, pettishly. - -Jennie flushed, for, unknown to herself, Ruth had touched upon Miss -Brawn's romance. She did love Webster, and she would have given many -years of her life had that love been returned. But she saw no chance of -this, and, like a sensible girl, crushed the passion in its birth. - -"I never cry for the moon," she said, quietly "and there is no chance -that the Master, who loves beautiful things, will ever fall in love -with plain me. But if I were to marry him I should be prepared to -make myself his echo--the piece of furniture you so scornfully allude -to. Believe me, my dear, it is better in every way that you should -reconsider your answer to Mr. Heron." - -"I won't! I don't deny that I like Geoffrey very much indeed, and he -took his rejection, so kindly, poor fellow, that I did feel very like -changing my mind. But Neil--Neil!" Ruth clasped her hands and raised -her expressive eyes. "Oh, I can't give him up." - -"Perhaps your father will make you." - -"No, my father can make me do nothing I have not set my heart on. And -when it comes to the point, I'll defy my father." - -"That is wrong." - -"No, it isn't. I have to live with my husband, whoever he may be, and I -have a right to choose him for myself. I choose Neil." - -"Humph!" murmured Jennie, shaking her rough head. "You say that now -while all is smooth; but if trouble came, and the Master was proved to -be an ineligible parti, you would your mind." - -"You shall see. Besides, what trouble could come?" - -"I merely suggest it. Trouble might come, you know. Life is not -entirely sunshine; clouds will arise. Well, when they do, we shall see -if you really love the Master. At present it is merely a girl's fancy." - -"Why do you talk to me as if you were a grandmother?" cried Ruth, half -offended. - -"I am young a years but old in experience," said Miss Brawn, with a -sigh. "We are nine in our family, and father, as a Civil Service clerk, -has only a small income. I have a lot of trouble to make both ends -meet, with no mother to help. They all rely on my brain and my fingers, -and the responsibility makes me sober." - -"Poor dear," said Ruth, kissing the freckled cheek. "I wonder you write -poetry with all your anxieties." - -"I have to, and when you have to you do," replied Jennie, somewhat -incoherently. "I make a very good income out of my verse, though what -I get is not what it ought to be. Why, some of my songs have made -thousands of pounds, but of course the publisher and composer share -that between them. I only get ten guineas or so." - -"What a shame!" - -"Yes, isn't it. However, I don't want to talk about myself, except to -thank you for giving me such a perfectly lovely Christmas. As to your -refusal of Mr. Heron, I am sure you are wrong." - -"I don't think so. But if I were it would be perfectly easy to whistle -him back. At present I intend to marry Neil, and he is going to ask my -father's consent to-night, or to-morrow. If there is trouble you shall -see how I stand up for him. You write romances, Jennie, I act them." -And with a rustle of silken skirts Ruth vanished. - -Jennie sighed as she once more took up her pen. It did seem hard that -this girl should have all the money, all the looks, and the chance of -becoming the Master's wife. Mis Brawn was not an envious person, as we -have said, but she could not help grudging Ruth the favours of Fortune -which she seemed to value so little. - -The Christmas dinner passed off that night in the orthodox fashion. Mr. -Cass made the usual speech; the usual compliments were exchanged, and -the usual reminiscences indulged in. It was quite a family gathering, -save that Mr. Cass's eldest daughter was absent. She was married, and -had elected to stay with her husband in London. As a matter of fact, -Mrs. Chisel--such was her name--could not approach her sister in the -matter of looks, and being of a jealous nature did not like--to use an -expressive, if somewhat vulgar, phrase--to take a back seat. Ruth was -always the recipient of all the admiration and all the attention, so -her sister preferred to stay in a circle wherein her own looks could -ensure her a certain amount of queendom. Mr. Cass referred to her -absence, drank her health, and considered that he had done his duty. - -But he had yet another duty to perform towards his unmarried daughter. -It was his intention to speak to Neil Webster that night, and, once -and for all, put an end to any hopes that young man might cherish with -regard to Ruth. She was the apple on the topmost bough which he could -not hope to gather; and it would be as well to inform him of this fact -at once. Mr. Cass was, in the main, a kindly man, and, for reasons best -known to himself, was well disposed towards Neil. He hated to make -trouble at this season of peace and goodwill. But the imminence of the -danger forced him on. Besides, he had given a promise to his sister -Inez, and he knew very well she would allow him no rest until he had -done what she desired. - -"How dull you are to-night," whispered Ruth to Neil in the winter -garden after dinner. "What is the matter?" - -"Nothing. I went out for a walk to-day and I am rather tired." - -"Were you caught in the snow?" - -"Yes, but I managed to get home all right, as you see. I sought shelter -in the old Turnpike House." - -Mrs. Marshall, who had seated herself close at hand, started at the -words. "The Turnpike House!" she said, anxiously. "Did you go in there." - -"Yes, Mrs. Marshall. It was my refuge from the storm." - -"Strange!" she murmured, thinking of the crime which had taken place -there so many years before--the crime in which the parents of this -young man had been concerned. "It has not a good reputation, that -house," she added. - -Webster fixed his eyes on her. "How is that?" he said. - -"Oh, don't you know?" cried Jennie, who had come up to them. "A -dreadful murder was committed there! A man was killed, and the house is -said to be haunted." - -"A man was killed?" repeated Neil, his breath coming quickly. "And who -killed him?" - -Before Jennie could make reply Mr. Cass, who had been listening -uneasily, interposed sharply: "Don't talk of murders, Miss Brawn. The -subject is not fit for Christmas. Come and play for Mr. Webster." - -"Thank you," the young man said. "I do not think I can play this -evening." - -There was a murmur of disappointment, but Neil was firm. "I am not very -well," he said, wearily. "My nerves again." - -"Ah!" remarked Mrs. Marshal, in a low voice. "That comes of going to -the Turnpike House." - -"Hush!" rebuked her brother under his breath. "Hold your tongue, Inez, -and leave me to deal with this." - -As there was to be no music, Jennie and Mr. Marshall set to work to -amuse the guests, and even Heron took part in the games. But after a -time Ruth declared that she could play no longer and abruptly went -away. Perhaps Geoffrey's reproachful looks were too much for her -equanimity. At all events she sought the empty drawing-room and sat -down at the piano. In a few minutes she was joined by Neil. - -"Oh! are you here?" she said, coldly enough. "What is the matter?" - -"Nothing. I have come to have a few words with you." - -"It is rather late in the day, Neil. You were out ail the afternoon, -and I was left to Mr. Heron." - -"I did not feel well," he said. "But I daresay you were happy with him." - -"Indeed I was not. Oh. Neil!" she murmured, looking up at him with eyes -shining like stars. "He proposed to me to-day and I refused him." - -"My darling," he cried, and then drew back. He was thinking of his dream -and wondering if he had the right to hold this girl to her engagement. -Ruth misunderstood him and pouted. - -"I thought you would be pleased." - -"I am pleased. I want you all to myself. All the same, perhaps, you do -well to marry Heron." - -"Then you don't love me?" she burst out, with wounded pride. - -"Love you?" he repeated, fiercely. "Heaven knows I love you than my own -soul. But I am beginning to think that I am not a fit husband for you. -My position is so insecure, my nerves are in such a wretched state. -Then again, your father may object. Indeed, I think he will." - -"Why not ask him before you make so certain?" cried the girl, eagerly. - -"I will do so to-night, but I tell you frankly, I am prepared for a -refusal." - -"Oh, no, there will be no refusal. I am sure he will not put any bar -between us. Dear Neil, do you not took so sad. I am certain all will be -well, and we shall be married sooner than you think." - -"Well, it all depends upon your father." - -"Indeed, it al depends upon me." Then she rose from the piano. "If you -were a true lover, Neil, you would not make all these objections. If -you do not care for me I shall marry Mr. Heron." - -"Ah! you like him, then?" cried the young man with a pang. - -"I like him, but I--love you!" whispered Ruth, and dropping a kiss on -his forehead she fled away before he could stop her. - -But when alone again she began to wonder whether she really did love -him. He was so cold and strange in manner that he sometimes chilled -her, and although he persisted in declaring that he loved her, she -could not help feeling that something had come between them. What -it was she could not think, and his refusal to explain piqued her. -She after all, had a right to share his secrets, and he declined to -trust her. She was a very good-hearted girl and affectionate; but she -thought a great deal of herself, for flattery and adulation had been -her portion all her life. Jennie had divined rightly. What she felt for -Webster was not so much love for the man as admiration for the artist. - -"Wait till he speaks to my father," she said to herself. "If he should -consent, Neil will be once more the affectionate fellow he was." - -That night came young Webster's opportunity of speaking to Mr. Cass. -They found themselves alone in the smoking-room somewhere after eleven. -Mrs. Marshall had whisked her husband off, intimating that she wished -to speak to him; and as a matter of fact she desired to tell him of her -discovery as to Ned's identity. The communication, she knew, would not -be a pleasant one for him to hear from his association with the young -man's father. Besides which, it is not always agreeable to remember -that you have been the friend of a man who has been murdered. - -Heron also had left the smoking-room early, so the two who were so -desirous of speaking to each other had their wishes gratified. - -"You are not in spirits to-night, Neil," the elder man, who always -addressed him thus when they were alone. And why not, seeing that -Webster was his protege? - -"No," was the gloomy reply. "I do not feel satisfied with my position." - -"And why not? You have found fame and money, and----" - -"I know all that," interrupted Neil, "but I am thinking of my parents. -I do not know who they were." - -Mr. Cass was quite prepared for this. Indeed, it was not the first time -the young man had asked him! and his answer now was the same as he had -always made. "I have told you a dozen times that your parents were -Americans and died in the States. I knew them intimately, and so was -the means of bringing you to England. There is nothing for you to worry -about." - -"Why cannot I recollect my childhood?" persisted Neil. - -"Because you had a severe illness which affected your memory." - -"Then there is nothing in my past that I need to be ashamed of?" - -"Nothing," if you mean as regards your parents. "As to yourself, my dear -Neil, your life has been most exemplary. I am proud of you." - -"Are you sufficiently proud of me to let me be your son-in-law?" - -Mr. Cass tugged at his long moustache. "I cannot truthfully say that I -should like that," he said. "Does Ruth care for you?" - -"Yes; we want to marry--with your consent." - -"That you shall never have." - -"Why not?" - -"I don't approve of the marriage. For your own sake, don't ask the -reason." - -Neil Webster started to his feet with a look of horror. "Ah!" he cried. -"Then the dream was true. My father was murdered!" - -Mr. Cass rose also pale and agitated. "In Heaven's name who told you -that?" he cried. - -"I dreamt it in the Turnpike House----" - -"The very place," Mr. Cass said, under his breath. - -"It was a dream, and yet not a dream," continued Neil. "Myself I -believe it was a recovery of the memories which you say were destroyed -by illness. Ah! Now I know why you will not let me marry your daughter. -It is because I am the son of a murdered man!" - -"No," was the deliberate answer. "You may as well know the truth. Your -mother is now in prison for the murder of her husband--of your father!" - - - - -CHAPTER VII. -WEBSTER'S CHILDHOOD. - - -Knowing what he did of Neil Webster. Mr. Cass quite prepared to see -him faint upon hearing the terrible truth. But to his unconcealed -astonishment the young man, beyond losing his colour, remained unmoved. - -"I should like to hear the whole story, please," he said, quietly. - -Mr. Cass was almost frightened by his calmness. "A glass of wine----" - -"No. I want nothing. You have told me the worst. What remains to be -said can affect me but little. The whole story, please, from the -beginning. When I am in possession of the facts I may be able to see -some way of saving my mother from her unjust fate." - -"Her unjust fate!" repeated Mr. Cass, with a flush. "Why, man alive, -she had all the justice the English law could give." - -"Did she admit her guilt? - -"She neither admitted nor denied it. Not a word would she say, good or -bad, for or against. Throughout the trial she maintained an absolute -silence, and went to prison uncomplainingly." - -"To my mind that looks likes innocence." - -The merchant moved restlessly in his chair. "Do not force me to say -unpleasant things," he remarked, irritably. - -"I want you to say exactly what you feel," retorted Neil. "I am here to -hear the truth, however disagreeable. It is only by knowing all that -I can help my mother. If you will not tell me, then I must see the -lawyers who were concerned in the case. I don't think they will mind -giving me pain. But if you are the friend I take you to be, you will -speak out." - -His self-possession was so much at variance with his usual demeanour -that Mr. Cass stared. - -"If you will have it, then," he said roughly, "I believe your mother -was guilty. Had there been the slightest chance of proving her -innocence, she would have done so for your sake." - -"Ah! my poor mother!" Nell's face grew soft and tender, and a look of -deep affection came into his eyes. "My mother--how she loved me!" - -"Can you remember her love?" asked Mr. Cass, doubtfully. - -"Now I can." He raised his hand to his forehead. "It all comes back to -me--all. That dream has given me the key to the past, and the memories -of my childhood rush back upon me. I know how I hated my father"--his -face grew dark--"and I know, also, how badly he treated my mother. If -she killed him, she did right." - -Mr. Cass shuddered. "I quite believe all that," he said, drily. "You -were born hating your father, and your mother taught you to look upon -him as your worst enemy. That you should deem her action in killing him -a right one is exactly what you would believe, having regard to your -childish feelings towards him. Indeed, I believe that had you grown -up while your father was still in existence you would have killed him -yourself." - -"Very probably," remarked Neil, just as drily. "Indeed. I did try!" - -"What? I don't understand!" - -"I daresay not, seeing my mother kept silence from the time of her -arrest. But I remember that on the night my father was murdered at the -Turnpike House I flew at him with a knife. I forgot all that took place -after that, except that I was in the room and saw his dead body lying -under the open window--the open window," he repeated, quietly, and with -significance. "Do not forget that, Mr. Cass." - -"What do you mean?" - -"I mean that someone else might have killed him. The window was open. -Why should it have been open unless the true murderer had gained -entrance by it, and had fled through it when his deed was accomplished? -I do not believe that my mother is guilty, in spite of her silence. She -has some reason for holding her tongue." - -"I can't think what the reason can be," replied Mr. Cass, wearily, -leaning his head on his hands. "For love of you she would have chosen -to remain free; yet when a word--according to you--might have saved -her, she held her tongue and risked the gallows." - -For the first time Neil Webster shuddered. "How was it she escaped -that?" he asked, in a low voice. - -"The case was so extraordinary that a petition to the Home Secretary -was got up, and he commuted the sentence to one of imprisonment for -life. Yet I must tell you the general opinion was that she was guilty. -She was pitied for all that when the story of her husband's brutality -came out in the evidence." - -"And my father?" said Neil, impatiently raising his head. "Tell me -more." - -Mr. Cass hesitated a moment. - -"Jenner deserved his fate. He treated his wife abominably; she had been -left to starve. After having been put to many shifts----" - -Webster raised his hand with a cry of pain. "I remember; don't!" he -said. "My poor mother! I can recall in some degree--that is, so far as -a child could have understood--our terrible life in London. Then we -came down here." - -"Yes, I did what I could for your mother, for I had always respected -her very much. But she was a difficult person to manage; and she -refused my help on the ground that it was charity." - -"So it was," Neil said between his teeth. "And I have lived on your -charity ever since!" - -"My dear lad"--Mr. Cass laid his hand on the young man's arm--"don't -be so thin-skinned. Whatever I have done, you have more than repaid me -by your success. And if you feel that you cannot bring yourself to -accept the money I have spent upon your education, why, then, pay me a -sum to be agreed upon between us. Surely that will set your mind at -rest." - -Neil shook his head. "The obligation remains the same," he said, -gloomily. "I shall ever remain grateful to you, and I will repay the -money. I know that whosoever else may be a scoundrel--and the world is -full of them--you, at least, are a good man." - -Mr. Cass winced as Neil held out his hand. But the feeling passed away -in a moment, and he did not refuse the proffer of friendship. - -"The best of us are bad," he said, with a sigh, "but I do my best to -behave as a man should. However," he added, glancing at the clock, -"it is growing late. Will you hear the rest of this story to-morrow -morning?" - -"No," and Neil settled himself resolutely in his chair. "Now that I -have heard so much I want to know all. My mother lived in the Turnpike -House, did she not?" - -"Yes; it was a tumble-down old place, and belonged to Heron's father." - -"To Heron's father?" Neil made a wry face, for he did not like the -idea. - -"She paid no rent for it," continued Mr. Cass, taking no notice of the -interruption. "Heron refused to accept any. Then she did sewing for -several people in the village. My sister, Mrs. Marshall, who was then -unmarried, gave her work, and sometimes food--when she would accept it, -which was not often. In this way, then, she lived, and found all her -joy in you!" - -"I have a faint memory of that terrible life," said Neil, musingly. "My -poor mother, with her bright hair and blue eyes, always so kind and -tender to me. Then that night--ah! how it all comes back to me! The -dream--the dream!" and in his agitation he rose to his feet. "It was a -shadow of the past--that dream. I was playing with a toy horse by the -fire; my mother was sewing. Then he came--my father. I remember running -at him with a knife, and afterwards--nothing." - -"Is that the very last of your memories?" asked Mr. Cass, watching him -keenly, and with an uneasiness he found it hard to disguise. - -Neil Webster sat down and passed his hand again across his eyes with -a weary gesture. "Yes--no--that is, I remember the dead body with the -blood--and afterwards the cold--the mist--the--the----" He made a -gesture as though brushing away the past. "I remember nothing more!" - -"The cold and the mist are easily explained," Mr. Cass said after a -pause. "Your mother, after the murder, took you in her arms and fled -from the scene of her crime." - -"Don t say that!" cried the young man. "Give her the benefit of the -doubt." - -Mr. Cass smiled sadly. "Unfortunately, there was no doubt, my dear boy. -Your father was killed with a buck-handled knife which had been used to -cut bread, and----" - -"The knife--the knife!" muttered Neil, straining his memory. "Yes, it -was with a buck-handled knife I ran at him!" - -"The knife was your mother's, and was found beside the body of the dead -man. Undoubtedly your father came back after his release from prison, -and insulted the woman he had ruined----" - -"I can't bear it--not a word more of that. Only the fact." - -"Well, there must have been a quarrel, and your mother--goaded beyond -herself, no doubt--struck at your father with the knife which was lying -on the table." - -"How do you know that?" - -"Because the table was spread for supper, and the knife was of the kind -that is used to cut bread." - -"I remember something about eating," muttered Neil. "Go, on, please." - -"The murder was discovered next morning by a woman who had gone to -the Turnpike House to get Mrs. Jenner was doing for her. She gave the -alarm, and suspicion fell at once upon your mother. The police were -informed, and search was made. Your mother was found five miles away, -under a hedge, insensible, with you in her arms. She had succumbed to -cold and but she still lived." - -"Would she had died altogether!" said Neil, sadly. - -"You were in a high fever, raving mad." - -"What did I rave about?" - -"About the dead man and the blood; and you frequently cried out to your -mother to kill him. That had something to do with bring the crime home -to her." - -"Cruel--cruel, to take a child's ravings as evidence!" - -"That was not done," said Mr. Cass sharply. "The law treated the -prisoner"--Neil winced--"perfectly fairly. But the suspicion was -instilled into the hearts of those who had heard your words." - -"She didn't deny the charge?" - -"She denied nothing--hardly opened her mouth, in fact. I got a lawyer -to her--I saw her myself and implored her to speak but she obstinately -refused. All she asked was, that I should take charge of you, which I -promised I would do." - -Neil looked up sharply, and asked the pointed question "Why?" - -"I don't think you should ask me that," Mr. Cass said, somewhat pained. -"Have I not proved myself a friend to you? Was it not natural that I -should feel sympathy for a girl who had been a member of my household. -Your mother, remember, had been governess to my eldest daughter? And -your father had been in my employment. Why should you suspect me of any -motive save that of sorrow for the ruin of a woman--whom I had liked as -a bright girl--and pity for a helpless child?" - -"Forgive me if I am wrong." Neil shook hands with much penitence. "But -I am suspicious now of all the world. Heaven help me! Go on." - -"There is very little more to tell. I took charge of you as I had -promised, and I placed you with Mrs. Jent, who is an old servant of -mine. You were seriously ill, and were not expected to live. Seeing -that your mother was in gaol and your father dead by her hand, I used -to think sometimes that it would have been better for you to have died." - -"I'm glad I did not," cried Neil with vehemence. "I have lived to -vindicate my mother's innocence." - -"You are not likely to where others have failed," Mr. Cass said, sadly. -"However, although I thought it would better for yourself and for all -concerned that you should not recover, I did not feel justified in -letting you slip through my fingers. I got the best doctors to see you, -and they managed to pull you round after months of suspense. But the -memory of your childhood, up to the time of your illness, was gone from -you for ever. It was just as well, seeing how terrible that childhood -had been. I made no attempt to revive your dormant memory, and I warned -Mrs. Jent not to say anything either. We supplied you with a fictitious -past." - -"I know," said Neil, with a faint smile. "The American parents! I -believed in them until I went to New York. Then I made enquiries; but -as I could find no trace of them, and could hear nothing about them, I -began to doubt their existence. If it had not been for my relating that -dream, you would not have informed me of the truth." - -"No," Mr. Cass said, honestly. "I would not, seeing what pain it must -have inflicted upon you. I should have simply requested you to forget -Ruth, and go away; the rest I would have spared you." - -"I thank you for your forbearance," Neil said, politely, but coldly. -"But Providence knew that I had a duty to perform, and so gave me back -the past. Oh, it was no miracle!" he went on, with a shrug. "I am not -a believer in the supernatural, as you know. I can see how it all came -about. Can't you?" - -"No; I confess that I am amazed that the dream should have been so -accurate, or, indeed, that it should have come to you at all." - -"Dreams, I have heard, are only the impressions of our waking hours in -more confused forms," said Webster, quietly. "And as I had received no -injury to the brain itself, my memory was only dormant, not destroyed. -It was awakened by the sight of the face in that photograph." - -"Ah! so it was," Mr. Cass said. "And the sight recalled your -instinctive hatred for the man. That was why you fainted." - -"Exactly; and no doubt, all that night, my brain was busily running -back through the years. Then I found the Turnpike House." - -"What took you there?" - -Neil shrugged his shoulders. "It might have been accident; but I do not -think it was. My own belief is that the awakening of memory drew me -there, and when I got into that room all came back to me in my sleep. -However, I know the truth now, so nothing else matters. Henceforth I -devote myself to proving the innocence of my mother." - -"You will never do that," Mr. Cass said, decisively. - -"You think so because you believe her guilty." - -"I believe her wrongs drove her mad, and that it was in a fit of -madness she killed her husband. Yes." - -"Well, I don't agree with you," Neil said. "The first thing I intend to -do is to see her. Where is she?" - -Cass wrote down the information on a slip of paper, and threw it -across the table to the young man. "But I think you are starting on -a wild-goose chase," he said. "Take my advice, and leave the matter -alone. You are Neil Webster, the violinist. You have no connection with -crime!" - -"No, I am Gilbert Jenner, the son of a murdered man and of a woman -wrongfully accused. I loved your daughter, Mr. Cass--I love her -still--but I give her up. I will not see her again. To-morrow morning I -leave this house for ever!" - -"No," said his host, with decision. "If you intend to make an attempt -to prove your mother's innocence, I have a right to help you, and to -know your plans. So be it. Do your appointed work." He offered his -hand. "As to Ruth----" - -Neil interrupted him. "She is a dream of the past. My new life has -nothing to do with love--but with revenge." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. -HERCULES AND OMPHALE. - - -The next morning Neil Webster was conspicuous by his absence. His -excuse was that he had been suddenly recalled to town on business. Mrs. -Marshall was not deceived, and on the first available opportunity she -drew her brother aside. - -"You have got rid of him, I see," she remarked, with evident -satisfaction. "But Ruth will not submit quietly to all this. In the -first place, she will refuse to believe that he has given her up; -such a sacrifice is beyond the conception of a pretty girl. In the -second----" - -"Wait a bit, Inez. Let us dispose of Number One first of all. Ruth will -be convinced that Webster has given her up, for the simple reason that -he has left a letter telling her so." - -"Ah! Then that is wily she has not come down to breakfast. I daresay -she is weeping and storming in her room. I'll go and----" - -"No, no. Leave her alone. If you go and annoy her, there is no knowing -what she will do. You know how headstrong-----" - -"You should have trained her better," said his sister. - -"All the training in the world will not tame our mother's blood in -her--or in you, for the matter of that!" - -"I know I am strong-minded, if that is what you mean." - -"Well, if you like to call obstinacy strongmindedness, there is no need -to argue. No doubt we both mean the same thing----" - -"With a difference," finished Mrs. Marshall. - -Jennie Brawn was loud in her lamentations when she came to hear of the -Master's departure. She went at once to Ruth, and found that young lady -far from tearful, pacing her bedroom in a towering rage. Jennie paused -at the door; she saw that Ruth had a pencil-scribbled note in her hand. - -"What is the matter?" asked Miss Brawn, amazed at this exhibition of -temper. Ruth pounced upon her. - -"Matter enough!" she cried, flourishing the letter. "Here is Neil gone -to town in the most unexpected manner--without even an excuse to me! -Read this, Jennie." - -"He says he is called away on business," said that young lady, when she -had mastered the contents of the note. "Well, that is, no doubt, the -truth!" - -"The truth! Pshaw! You don't know men, my dear. They tell lies in the -most plausible manner. But Neil cannot deceive me! All I want to know -is who the woman is!" - -Miss Brawn's freckled face grew crimson. "You have no right to say such -a thing as that! It is not like a lady!" - -"I am a woman before I am a lady," cried Ruth. "And a jealous woman at -that. Don't I know how all the creatures swarm after him just because -he is handsome and famous! He has told me all sorts of things about the -notes and the presents they send him, and----" - -"It was not nice of him to do that," remarked Jennie, for once blaming -her idol. - -"Well,"--Ruth dropped into a chair fairly worn cut by her rage--"it was -not his fault. I worried him into telling me everything. He did not -want to--I must do him that justice." - -"How did you worry him into betraying others?" - -"You are a woman and ask that? Oh, I forgot--you are not in love--or -rather, no man is in love with you. Why, you stupid little creature if -a man loves a woman, he'll do anything she tells him. Besides, he did -not mention names; he only told me that he got heaps of presents and -letters. But I want to know who the woman is he has gone up to meet." - -"I daresay there is no woman." - -"My dear Jennie, you don't know men." - -"Mr. Webster is devoted to you." - -"So he says. Humph!" - -"Ruth! Why, he shews it in every way." - -"All put on!" cried Miss Cass, determined not to be pacified. "But I'll -get the truth out of my father. I hear from the servants that Neil was -with him in the library for three hours last night." - -"Then that is the explanation. Your father has refused his consent to -the marriage, and the Master has gone away." - -"Nonsense! Do you think he would give me up like that, and leave me so -cold a letter? No. There is something else--a woman, I am sure. But -I'll get the truth out of my father. I have as wild a temper as Aunt -Inez when I am roused. I can be nice enough, Jennie, as you know, but, -oh, how nasty I can be when I make up my mind!" - -"You have evidently made up your mind now," said Miss Brawn, who had -known all about Ruth's temper when they were at school together. And -at this juncture, judging from previous experience, she considered it -prudent to retire, before she herself could be brought under the harrow. - -Ruth, left alone, did not rage any more. She put on her prettiest -dress, bathed her eyes, which were reddened with tears, and went down -to try and cajole her father. - -Mr. Cass was in the library; and one look at her face was enough -to tell him why she had come. He argued, however, from her studied -amiability, that she was in a particularly aggravating mood. But long -experience of his mother and sister had taught him how to deal with -this sinister sweetness. He was immediately on his guard; for, as he -well knew, if the truth was to be got out of him, his daughter was the -one to get it. - -"Dear papa," she said, sinking into a chair beside the desk and patting -his hand. "I am in great trouble." - -"I know,"--determined that he would carry the war into the enemy's camp. -"Mr. Webster was with me last night." - -Ruth started to her feet with a tragic expression on her face. "And -you have forbidden our marriage!" she cried, and her air was that of a -Siddons. - -"What else did you expect?" her father asked. "Neil is a good fellow, -but he is not the son-in-law I want. And, indeed, I should be sorry, -for his own sake, to see him marry you. He is too gentle and kind. What -you want, my young lady, is a master." - -"No man shall ever master me," his daughter said, calmly. "And has he -given me up without a word?" - -"No; he said a good many words. But I am adamant, so far as this -ridiculous marriage is concerned. He accepted the inevitable after some -fighting, and took his departure this morning before you were up. I -see," he added, glancing at the note in her hands, "that he has written -to you." - -"Yes." Ruth gave it to him. "But it explains nothing." - -"It explains all there is to explain," said Mr. Cass. "Let the matter -drop now. Neil has gone away on business; so we will say nothing about -his love for you. You'll soon get over it." - -"Indeed I shan't!" sobbed the girl, now on the tearful tack. "It is -cruel of you to send him away when I love him so. I don't believe he -gave me up because you refused. There is something else." - -"There is nothing else." Mr. Cass's tone was decisive. - -But Ruth's fine ear caught something of hesitation in his voice, and -she dropped her handkerchief from her eyes with a triumphant air. "I -knew there was something else. What is it--something about his parents?" - -Mr. Cass started and changed colour at this chance shot. "Good Heavens, -child! Who told you anything about his parents?" he said; and no sooner -had he said it than he repented his rashness. For thereby she had -gained an advantage which she would not be slow to seize. - -"Why," she said, very slowly, with her eyes fixed on her father's -perturbed face, "it was just this way. Neil told me all about his -parents having died in America, and how you had brought him up at -Bognor." - -"Did he tell you nothing else?" Mr. Cass was beginning to feel that she -was too much for him. - -This was an opportunity which the girl was too clever to lose. "Well, he -did not tell me everything," she said. "He couldn't, you know." - -"I'm glad he had that much sense," Mr. Cass said, with relief. - -"Ah, papa, now I have caught you!" cried Miss Cass, clapping her hands. -"I know nothing, then, except that you brought him up. But you admit -there is something else which has stopped the marriage?" - -He saw that he had been over-reached. "I can tell you nothing," he said. - -"Very well, papa," she said, turning to go, "I'll write to Neil and ask -him to tell me the truth." - -"He won't tell you." - -"Oh, yes, he will. He loves me, and I can get any thing out of him." - -"Girl! Ruth,"--her father seized her arm--"if you can be sensible, do -not write to Webster. He has gone out of your life of his own free -will." - -"I will never--never believe that!" and she flushed angrily. "Do you -think I don't know when a man loves me or not? I will see him and learn -the truth." - -"I forbid it, and Ruth saw that her father was very angry. With the -cunning of a woman who is determined to get her way, she suddenly -yielded, feeling that she could best gain her ends under the mask of -peace. - -"Very well, papa," she said, with a few tears; "but it is very hard on -me. I love him, and you have sent him away--for no fault of his own, -I'm sure." - -"He is not in fault--he is unfortunate----" - -"In his parents?" she asked. - -"Amongst other things," was the reply. "My dear child"--he took her -hand--"if you are wise, you will leave things as they are. I should -like you to marry Heron; but if you do not wish it. I will not press -the matter. As to Neil, put him out of your head, once and for all. He -can never be your husband! Now go." And he pushed her gently outside -the library door. - -"What on earth can it be?" thought the girl, as she took her way to the -winter garden. "Has Neil committed some crime, or has----" - -She had reached this point in her meditations when she suddenly came -upon Mr. Marshall. He was pale, and had a look of alarm on his face. -When he saw her he gave a startled cry. "Why, good gracious, uncle, -what is the matter?" asked Ruth. - -"Oh, it's you!" replied Marshall. "I thought--never mind what I -thought. I'm upset." - -"Oh, Aunt Inez has been giving you a bad time," said the girl, with -some amusement. She knew very well what a tight hand that lady kept -over her elderly Don Juan; and when her uncle nodded, she continued: "I -am upset myself, uncle. He has gone away!" - -"Are you talking of Neil Webster?" he asked, with an obvious effort. - -"Yes; did you know how much I cared for him, uncle--and--what's the -matter?" - -For Mr. Marshall, with an ejaculation, had jumped up and was looking at -her with an expression of dismay. "Nothing is the matter," he gasped, -and it was quite evident that he was not speaking the truth. "But I -must confess I did not know that you cared for him. Ridiculous! Why, he -can never marry you." - -"So papa says," replied Ruth, somewhat disconsolately. "He has refused -his consent." - -"Quite right--quite right. Ruth, put the ocean between yourself -and that man; but never have anything to do with him. It is"--he -looked--round and approached his lips to her ear--"it is dangerous. -Don't say I told you!" And before she could recover from her -astonishment he had slipped away with an alacrity surprising in so -heavy a man. - -Ruth remained standing, utterly perplexed by the manner of her usually -careless and good-natured uncle. "I wonder if he knows why Neil has -gone away?" she thought. "I will find out the reason," she went on to -herself "I am as obstinate as they are. Since they won't tell me I will -write to Neil." - -This she proceeded to do, demanding to know the cause of his departure. -"If you love me as you say, you will not give me up at my father's -bidding. I am ready to brave his anger for your sake. Can you not be as -brave as I?" - -The reply came, as she had expected, by return, and it was with a -violently beating heart that she tore it open. "I must give you up," he -wrote. It is in vain to fight against the destiny that parts us. I love -you still; but it is my duty to forget you. Do the same, for only in -that way can you be happy. - -"Oh, he is mad!" cried Ruth, angrily. "And if he thinks he can put me -off in this way he will find his mistake. I will know!" She stamped her -foot. "I will--I will!" - -Notwithstanding Ruth's refusal of him, Geoffrey Heron had not gone -away; he was too deeply in love with her for that, and remained like a -moth fluttering round a candle. Sometimes he felt annoyed with himself; -but he was no longer his own master. Then, much to his surprise, the -girl sought him of her own free will. He was delighted, though he -wisely strove not to shew it. She suggested a walk, in order that they -might not be interrupted. - -After some preliminary skirmishing, she led the conversation up to the -departure of Neil Webster. - -"I am sorry," she said, with a sigh. - -"You need hardly tell me that," replied Geoffrey, not very amiably, for -he was annoyed by the speech and the sigh. "I know he is the lucky man." - -"If he is lucky, he does not value his luck." - -"What do you mean? I understood from Miss Brawn that you were engaged -to marry him." - -"Ah! that's just it. I was engaged, but now--he has gone away without a -word. I don't believe he cares one bit about me." - -"What a fool! Oh, Ruth, if you only knew!" - -"I do know," she said, kindly; "you want me to be your wife. Well, I -refused, because I could not really love you; but you know that I do -like you extremely." - -"Even that is something." - -"And if it were not for Neil--well, I might bring myself to marry you." - -"No," he said, firmly. "I also have my pride. Much as I want you to be -my wife, I will not consent to that unless you can tell me that you -love me." - -"Won't liking do?" - -"No,"--gruffly--"liking will certainly not do." - -"I might grow to love you in time." - -"I wish you could--but--what does all this mean?" - -She thought for a moment; then she said: "I hope you won't think me -bold for speaking openly. But the fact is--well, I was engaged to Neil, -and he--he has broken our engagement." - -"Ah!" exclaimed the young man. "And how can I remedy the situation?" - -"Go to him and ask why he went away." - -"I cannot. Do you expect me to bring my rival back to you?" - -"If you loved me and wished me to be happy, you would." - -"I don't want to see you happy with another fellow," and his manner was -eminently human. "I want you to myself." - -"Well, you will not get me by behaving in this way!" cried Ruth, now -thoroughly exasperated. "This is the very first time I have ever asked -you to do anything for me, and you refuse!" - -Geoffrey temporised. "Supposing Webster were to persist in his refusal -to come back to you, would there be a chance for me?" - -Miss Cass looked straight before her, with her nose in the air. - -"I really don't know," she said coldly. "I make no bargains." - -"Very well," said Geoffrey, most unexpectedly, "I'll do it." - - - - -CHAPTER IX. -THE EMBASSY OF GEOFFREY HERON. - - -Within that week the house party at Hollyoaks broke up. Mr. and Mrs. -Marshall returned to their own house, which was only four miles away; -Jennie Brawn went back to Bedford-park and the family of nine; and -Geoffrey Heron took his way to his London Chambers. So Ruth was left -to the society of her father, and she made up her mind that she would -say no more about Neil. Indeed, she half intimated to Mr. Cass that she -might, after all, marry her other lover--an intimation which delighted -the worthy merchant beyond words. - -"You are a sensible girl after all, Ruth," he said. "Believe me, you -would do wisely. You see my love, you could not have been really in -love with Webster, since you have so soon forgotten him." - -She answered him meekly enough. - -"I daresay you are right, papa, Neil has behaved very badly to me, and -I think no more of him." - -"Poor fellow," sighed Mr. Cass! - -"Really, papa," exclaimed the girl, "you are difficult to please. At -your desire I have given him up: now you think I have treated him -badly." - -"My dear, I said nothing of the sort," protested the embarrassed Mr. -Cass. "All the same, I wish he had not set his heart on you." - -"Oh, he has not done that, or he would not have been so ready to give -me up." - -"My dear, you do not understand." - -Ruth went away thinking over this last speech. "No," she murmured to -herself, "I do not understand, but I shall soon. I ought to hear from -Geoffrey in a few days. After all, I am really beginning to think I -like him better than Neil. What Jennie said was quite right, although I -would not for the world acknowledge it to her. I am not the wife for a -man like him. I want to be considered, and I am sure Geoffrey would do -all in his power to please me and to make me happy. Neil? Well, I think -he might have been rather a trial." - -A week after Neil's departure, Mr. Cass received a letter from him -which caused the worthy merchant much perplexity. He shut himself up in -his library to think it over. Webster had gone away with the fullest -intention of proving his mother's innocence, yet this short letter -intimated that he had abandoned the idea. "I have seen my mother," he -wrote, "and I see it is best to take your advice and let sleeping dogs -lie. I am going abroad shortly, and it is not likely that I shall see -you for many months. Never again will I come to your house; and I only -hope that you will impress upon Ruth the necessity of forgetting me as -speedily as possible. I cannot trust myself to see her again, so I must -leave this task to you." - -"Poor lad!" sighed Mr. Cass, as he finished the letter. "It is bitter -for him that he should have to suffer for the sins of his parents. -But I wonder why he has stopped short in his endeavour to prove Mrs. -Jenner's innocence? What can she have said to him? I have a good mind -to see him--or her," he added as an after-thought; then changed his -mind. "No, it would only revive sad memories. The matter is settled by -this letter, and it is best to let sleeping dogs lie. I will think no -more of it." - -So he said, but so he did not do. His conscience frequently took -pleasure in reminding him of the whole story, and despite all his -philosophical resolves to "let sleeping dogs lie," he knew very well -that he ought to rouse them. But this he could not bring himself to do. -Too much was at stake, and a bolder man than Mr. Cass would have shrank -from the consequences. In this frame of mind he did his best to argue -that he was right, and--he failed in the attempt. - -Meanwhile Geoffrey was in town. He had learnt from Ruth that Neil -occupied rooms in the Waverley Hotel in Cherry-square, a quiet, -unpretentious establishment. - -Three times Heron called at the hotel, only to be told that Mr. Webster -was out of town. The fourth time he was more lucky and found the young -man at home. - -Neil Webster looked extremely ill; dark circles under his eyes told -of sleepless nights, and his restless movements hinted at a nervous -system which had gone to pieces. Moreover, his lips were dry, his eyes -feverishly bright. - -The room was luxuriously furnished. The prevailing colour was a dark -red, and on the walls were hung portraits of his favourite composers. -Curiously enough, the furniture was upholstered in a soft shade -of grey, the effect of which in the warm-tinted room was, to say -the least, of it, somewhat odd. A revolving bookcase, filled with -books--mostly of poems--stood near a Louis Quinze escritoire; but the -glory of the room was a magnificent grand piano standing alone at one -end of the apartment. - -"I suppose you are surprised to see me, Webster?" said the young squire -abruptly. - -"Well, I must admit that I am. We could hardly be called the best of -friends at any time, I think." - -"Still, we have not been enemies, Webster. Because two men may happen -to be rivals they need not have a bad opinion of each other." - -"You are very good," Neil said, faintly. - -"Don't be sarcastic; there is no need, I assure you." - -The remark made Webster laugh. - -"Why do you laugh?" asked the other, sharply. - -"I was wondering whether I could make a friend of you, and the thought -of our relative positions with Miss Cass made me scout the possibility. -We can never be friends." - -"Why not? I like you very well. I don't see why you should be so bitter -to me." - -"I am not bitter. In fact, you would be my friend, I think, if it were -not for Miss Cass." - -"I am ready to be your friend in any case," said Heron, quickly. "And -don't think me a mean brute to hate a man because he is more lucky than -I." - -"Lucky!" sighed Neil, sitting up. "Heaven help you if you are not a -luckier man than I. Well, when we know one another better we may be -friends. I need one badly enough, Heaven knows. But, first of all, to -pave the way to our better acquaintance, why have you come here?" - -"I will answer you frankly. Miss Cass has informed me that you have -broken off your engagement to her. Now, you know that I am very much -in love with her, and that I wish her to be my wife. She loves you, I -think----" - -"No, pardon me," Webster said, lifting one thin hand. "She does not -really care for me. I have come to that conclusion after much thought. -She admires my talents, but you possess what wins a woman's eyes and -her heart in the long run--strength." - -"You are complimentary," Heron said, good-humouredly, "but I think most -women would admire you. All I want to know is whether your engagement -with Miss Cass is really at an end, because in that case I'll sail in -and try my luck." - -Webster leant back. It was hard to give up this girl, and although he -had really done so, yet there was the official announcement to be made. -But it had to be done, for, knowing what he knew, he felt that no truly -honest man in his place would hold her to her promise. So Neil braced -himself up to make the sacrifice, and spoke out with decision: - -"My engagement to Miss Cass is at an end," he said. "She will never -be my wife, nor is it probable that I shall ever see her again. She -is free to marry you, indeed, I hope she will, and"--here his voice -quivered--"I wish you joy." - -"Well," Heron said, thoughtfully, "I can't deny that I am glad to hear -this, for Ruth Cass is all the world and more to me. At the same time -time I am sorry, for I can see that you feel this very deeply. Is it of -your own free will that you do this?" and he eyed Webster curiously. - -"In one way it is, in another it is not. A few weeks ago I had a right -to marry her, now I have none." - -"Can I help you?" Heron asked. - -"No, no. Impossible!" - -The man was so shaken and ill that Geoffrey asked no more questions. -He went over and shook hands. "As you have withdrawn I will try my -luck. But, I also may fail; and if I do I hope I shall bear the -disappointment as well as you do. If you will allow me I will come and -see you again." - -"I shall be glad to see you. But are you not going back to Hollyoaks? - -"No," replied Geoffrey. "I shall be in town for a week or so, and if I -can see you again so much the better." - -"Come by all means, then. I am usually at home during the evening. I'm -afraid I can't ask you to dine just now. I really do not feel well -enough." - -"That's all right," Heron said, brightly. "I know you feel bad, but you -have behaved like a Briton." Than which Geoffrey thought there could -not be higher praise. "And if I can help you in any way I will. I have -an idea, you know, that we shall be friends, after all." - -"We have made a good start, anyhow," said Neil. "Good-bye." - -When Geoffrey had gone, the unhappy man buried his face in the sofa -cushions and wept bitterly. He had crushed down his feelings throughout -the interview; but now Nature would have her way. - -"Oh, Heavens!" he wailed. "Shall I ever know peace again?" - - - - -CHAPTER X. -THE GREAT SECRET. - - -It was small wonder that Neil had decided to give Ruth up. For the -first time he saw what he was--a miserable creature, who, in marrying, -would be committing a deadly sin. It was not to be thought of; and he -thanked Heaven that he had self-command sufficient to put temptation -away from him. His renunciation of her was, to him, the least of his -sorrows. - -He found some comfort in the visits of Geoffrey Heron, who came almost -every day and sat long with the unfortunate man, although he could -not in the least understand his sufferings. But he strove to talk of -general subjects which would draw his mind away from the one on which -he was brooding. And in the main he succeeded, though when he had gone, -Neil always relapsed into the torture of thought whence he had been -drawn for the moment. - -During these visits Neil observed his visitor closely, and very soon -came to the conclusion that he was a right good fellow with vastly -more heart than the general mass of humanity. Once or twice he found -himself on the point of confiding in him and asking his advice: but a -feeling of dread withheld him. He liked Heron he enjoyed his company; -and he was afraid of losing him. So he tried to put himself aside, and -insisted that he was not as ill as he looked. But the crisis came one -evening when Geoffrey was with him. Neil had been very ill all day; and -when the young squire entered shortly after eight o'clock, he found him -lying on the sofa almost in a fainting condition. Geoffrey was alarmed. - -"I tell you what, old chap, you should see a doctor," he said. - -Neil shook his head. "Doctors can do no good; all their drugs cannot -cure me. What is it Macbeth says, 'Thou canst not minister to a mind -diseased.'" - -"But your mind is not diseased." - -"How do you know that?" He clenched his hands. "I have not told you my -secret." - -"No and I don't want to know it." - -"What! You don't want to know why I gave Miss Cass up?" - -"No; for then I should have to tell her--she would get it out of me in -some way. You know what women are." - -"I know what one woman is, at least; and she is a mother," murmured -Neil. "No, you must not tell Ruth; it could do no good, and might do -much harm." - -"Then speak of something else. You are exciting yourself unnecessarily." - -Even as he spoke, the nerve storm came on with unusual violence; the -wretched man seemed possessed by seven demons which tore him in pieces; -he rose from his seat and strode furiously about the room, trying to -prevent himself from crying out. Finally, he dropped exhausted into a -chair and sobbed violently. Geoffrey Heron, quite astonished at this -outburst, hastily got a glass of water, but in seizing it, Webster -broke it with the strength of his grasp. "I must tell you--I must!" -he panted. "I must tell someone, or die. My mother is in prison--on -a charge of murder; she was accused of killing--killing, I say--my -father!" And he fell back weeping, trembling, completely crushed. - -"Good Heavens cried Heron, stepping back. His pity for the poor young -fellow was sincere; and now he felt he could understand in some degree -what a torture his life had been to him. He could understand, moreover, -why Neil had surrendered all claim to the hand of Ruth. - -"You--you--won't tell her?" - -"No; on my honour, I won't," said Geoffrey. "I wish you had not told -me; but now that I do know, your secret is, at any rate, safe with me." - -"The valerian," said Neil, nodding towards the sideboard, and while -Heron got it, he loosened his collar and drenched himself with cold -water. Then he mixed a stiff dose of the drug, and drank it it with a -sigh of relief. Heron looked at him anxiously. - -"I had better go now, hadn't I?" he said. "You must go to bed. -To-morrow morning----" - -"No--no. I shall be all right soon; the valerian will soothe me. I have -told you so much that I must tell you all. I should have said nothing -about it but for the nervous fit which came over me just now. Sit down." - -Accordingly, Geoffrey waited, lighting a cigar the while. Now that the -information had been imparted to him almost against Webster's will, -he was anxious to hear the whole story; he determined that Ruth, at -least, should never know it. Try as she might, she would never get it -out of him. He made up his mind, too, that he would be a friend to the -unfortunate creature who was so cruelly afflicted. Not only that, but -he would give what advice and aid lay in his power to ameliorate the -situation. But he doubted whether the position could be amended. - -Neil thanked him by a look, and returned to his sofa in a quieter -frame of mind; the fury of the attack had left him weak and faint, -but he insisted on speaking, and as he did so, his strength gradually -came back. To Geoffrey this sudden recuperation seemed little short -of miraculous, for he was quite unaware of the power of the nerves to -recover themselves. - -"I had better begin by asking you a few questions," he began. - -"But are you sure you are strong enough?" - -"I shall be all right directly. The truth has to be told now; and, -moreover, I want your advice." - -"I'll do anything in my power," Heron said. - -"You are a good fellow. How I have misunderstood you! Well, I will -repay you by giving up Ruth to you; I shall never marry her, nor, -indeed, anyone. Heaven help me!" - -"Why not?" Geoffrey, asked. - -"You have seen what I am. What sort of husband or father should I make? -But this is beside the point. Hear what I have to tell, and advise me -what to do. In the first place, do you know the Turnpike House?" - -"Great Heavens! Are you talking about that murder?" - -"Yes, I daresay you remember it." - -"Remember it! I should think so. Why, nothing was talked about at -Westham for months but that crime. A man was found in the house stabbed -to the heart; his wife was accused of the murder; she was taken, with -her child, while trying to escape." - -"Yes," was the calm reply. "My father was the murdered man, my mother -was the woman accused of the crime, and I the child." - -"Then your name is Jenner?" - -"Yes a name to be proud of, is it not? But I have not the courage to -take it. Ugh!" He shuddered. "Think, if all that were known! How could -I appear in public? People would come, not to hear me play, but to see -a man who had been connected with a mysterious crime--whose mother was -suffering punishment for that crime! I should kill myself if it were -known." - -"There will be no need to kill yourself. You are absolutely safe with -me." - -"But if Ruth should ask you?" - -"Ruth shall never hear it from me. When I said just now that she might -cajole we, I was thinking of trivial things; but this terrible story -shall remain a secret for ever. You can speak to me as you would to a -confessor. There are some things, Webster, which a man does not do; and -this is one of them. I am glad you have told me." - -"I am glad you know," sighed Neil. "It will ease my mind to tell you -all. Now listen," and he recounted all the circumstances--his dream, -and the causes which had led up to his identification as the son of the -accused woman. Geoffrey was more startled than ever, especially when -Mr. Cass's name was mentioned. - -"And does he know all this?" he asked. Then, in reply to Neil's nod, he -added: "No wonder he would not let you marry his daughter!" - -"No wonder," said the young man, bitterly. "Touch pitch and defile -yourself; but it was not he who stopped the marriage--it was myself. I -would rather die than marry. See what I am--a mass of nerves; think of -the terrible history of my parents. Then imagine me asking any woman to -share my misery! Well, now that you know all, what do you say?" - -Heron looked rather helplessly at him. "What can I say?" he remarked, -hesitatingly. "It seems that your mother murdered your father under -great provocation, and is now in prison. Well, I think it would be best -for you to put the matter out of your head, and go abroad. It is not -the slightest use you seeing her." - -"I have already done so," Neil said, quietly. - -Geoffrey started from his seat. "You visited her in prison?" he asked - -"Yes; I learnt where she was from Mr. Cass, and I went to see her at -once. For I loved my mother, as much as I hated my father. Poor mother! -Her hair is white now, and her fact lined; but she was mad with joy at -first on seeing me, and then very angry." - -"Why was she angry?" - -"Ah, that is the strangest part of the whole affair! I am now going to -tell you something that no one else knows--not even Mr. Cass." - -"Fire ahead!" - -"When I went to the prison," Neil continued, "I did not believe that -my mother was guilty. Cass had told me she was but I did not agree -with him. Only from her own lips would I learn the truth, and to the -prison I went in order to learn it. I saw the governor, and asked to -see Mrs. Jenner, but did not give my real name; I merely said that I -was a distant relative of hers, and wanted an interview. Well, I saw -her--alone." - -"Were you allowed to do that? I thought----" - -"That a woman warder would be present? Well, one was, but she stayed -outside the door, where she could hear little, if anything. We were -practically alone." - -"Did she recognise you?" - -"At once. Ah Heron, you don't know what a mother's love is. Yes; she -knew me, for I am the very image of what she was in youth. I have her -fair hair and blue eyes; but not her good looks. She knew me, but she -would only half admit it." - -"Why was that?" - -"Well, for one reason, because the warder was outside, and she did not -wish our relationship known. Another was that she feared to give way -altogether if she once said that I was her son. So all the time she -addressed me as Mr. Webster; and she talked of her son to me." - -"She must be a woman of wonderful self-command," said Geoffrey, now -thoroughly interested. "A woman in a thousand, as you will admit before -I have done. Ah, what a mother! Was there ever such a noble creature? -Well, addressing me always as I have said, she said that her son had -been taken away to be brought up by Mr. Cass in ignorance of his -parentage; and that this had been done at her own special request. She -did not want her son ever to know of her existence, or of her history, -nor did she wish ever to see him. She was dead to him, and desired that -he should regard her as dead also." - -"A painful position for you." - -"Heaven knows how painful!" He was sitting up now, and speaking -rapidly. "I fell into her humour, for her eyes warned me to do that. -Besides, she stood aloof, and refused to respond to my feelings. I -accepted the situation, and told her that her son was a violinist and -famous. I am afraid I talked a great deal too much about myself, and -in a boastful vein too. But you will understand that, Heron. I wanted -to give her all the joy I could. I wanted to prove to her that her -sacrifice had not been in vain." - -"Sacrifice? What on earth do you mean by that?" - -"Ah! Now comes the most painful part of the story. I asked her if she -were truly guilty, but she refused to answer. And I knew in my heart -that she was innocent. I saw a look in her eyes which asked how I--her -own son--could dare to doubt her innocence. But not a word did she say." - -"And you--what did you say?" - -"I told her--still in the character of a relative--that I did not -believe she killed Jenner--for by that name I spoke of him--and I -declared that I intended to devote my life to proving her innocence, -and that I was about to re-open the case." - -"What happened then?" asked Geoffrey, seeing, from the growing -agitation of the young man, that he was coming to the crisis of his -painful tale. - -"She became angry, and was violently moved. After glancing at the -door, she abandoned the attitude she had taken up, of treating me as a -stranger, and forbade me to re-open the case; she commanded me to leave -things as they were. I refused I swore that I would set her free. In a -low voice she implored me to let the matter rest; again I refused, and -in spite of all that she could say, I held to my purpose. By this time, -as you will understand, we had abandoned our masks. At last she clapped -her hands, and said that there was no help for it." - -"No help for what?" - -"I am about to tell you. She caught me by the hand, and bent forward to -speak in a whisper; and these are her very words: 'Do nothing; I suffer -for your sake.'" - -"Great Heavens! Do you mean to say that she hinted that it was you who -killed him?" - -"She did more than hint. She said that I did. She told me that on that -night she had gone away to get some money for my father; that while she -was in another part of the house she heard a cry, and came back to the -room to find me there standing beside the dead body of my father--the -knife still in my hand. She was certain that I had done it, for earlier -in the evening I had rushed at him with the same knife. Seeing that -my hatred for him was in part her work, she determined to save me, -and rushed away into the night and the mist with me in her arms. She -was taken, and accused of the crime; for my sake, she held her tongue -and suffered. No one knows this--not even Mr. Cass, to whom she gave -me that I might be brought up by a good man. All this she told me in -a low, hurried voice. Then she bade me leave matters as they were, -or her curse would be upon me! I promised to do nothing-she made me -promise--then I left her. Since then--oh, what a life mine has been!" -and he flung himself on the sofa to bury his face in the cushions. - -Heron pitied him sincerely. "Are you sure that this is true?" he asked. -"For it seems to me that if you had really been guilty of killing your -father, you would have remembered something about it." - -"No, I do not think so; I am subject to trances; and on that night, -agitated as I was by the sight of my father, I fell into one. I must -have done the thing as in a dream; then passed at once into the fever -which robbed me of my memory until it was revived by the dream. I can -remember my childhood now, but I certainly remember nothing about -the murder. My last memory is that of rushing at my father with the -knife with which I afterwards killed him. It must be true; yes, I am a -criminal! - -"Nonsense! A boy of ten, and mad for the time being! You are not a -criminal; no one could say so. If your mother had been wise, she would -have told the truth so as to save herself." - -"She preferred to save me; and if she had explained all this, who would -have believed her? No one. She would simply have been accused of trying -to prove me guilty in order to hide her own sin. But now that you know -all, I want to have your advice. How am I to act?" - -"Leave things as they are," Geoffrey said, promptly. - -"But my mother is innocent." - -"I know--if what she says is true." - -"I believe it!" Neil cried. "I really believe it." - -"Ah but will anyone else? To me, I confess, it seems a trifle -far-fetched. Even if you came forward and accused yourself, the whole -story rests on her evidence, and you will not be believed. No, Webster; -leave the matter as it stands, and stick to the name you are known by. -Your mother wishes it; and since she has done so much for you, it is -only right you should obey her." - -"I don't know what to do." Neil clasped his hands. "Shall I remain -silent?" - -"Take my advice, and remain silent," Heron replied, and he meant what -he said. "And remember," he added, "that I am always your friend -friend." - - - - -CHAPTER XI. -RUTH'S DIPLOMACY. - - -Whatever might have been Neil Webster's intentions as to saving his -mother by proving himself guilty, they were frustrated by a severe -illness. His body could no longer bear the strain of constant worry and -mental torture, and he was seized with an attack of brain fever. Then -it was that Heron proved himself indeed a friend; he attended to the -sick man and procured for him the very best advice. No brother could -have done more for the poor fellow than did Geoffrey. Putting entirely -aside his desire to be near Ruth and to prosecute his courtship, he -devoted himself to restoring Neil to health. - -Furthermore, at his friend's special request in the early stages of -his illness, Geoffrey took all measures to prevent Mr. Cass hearing -of the precarious state in which he lay. For Neil considered that the -merchant had done quite enough for him and did not wish to give him any -more trouble; so Geoffrey informed Mr. Cass that the young violinist -had gone abroad for a rest by the advice of his doctor. Then he had him -removed to Bognor and placed under the charge of Mrs. Jent, impressing -upon her the necessity for secrecy. Thus it came about that for nearly -two months he lay ill in bed at Bognor without any suspicion being -aroused in Mr. Cass's mind. - -To Ruth young Heron wrote and explained that Neil had given her up, but -that he refused to say why he had done so. He added that he himself was -going to Paris for a month or so, but that if she wanted him back he -would return at the end of that time. Having thus sacrificed himself -on the shrine of friendship, he went down to watch Neil through his -dangerous illness. For he was quite determined that he should not die -if human means could save him. So, with Mrs. Jent, he nursed his friend -with the greatest tenderness. - -Another friendly act he performed. He visited Mrs. Jenner and learned -from her all the particulars of the case. At first she sternly refused -to tell him anything, but when he informed her that her son was ill -and that his only chance of recovery--this was a little embroidery of -his own--lay in the hope of her innocence being established, she gave -way. He had already succeeded in impressing upon her the fact that Neil -could not have killed his father, notwithstanding all appearances to -the contrary. - -"From what you say, Mrs. Jenner," he remarked, "your husband was a -strong man. Neil--I must still call him Neil--was a puny child. It is -impossible that he could have struck such a blow. At best his strength -could not have been equal to it, and Jenner could have brushed him -aside as easily as he could a fly." - -"That is true," said the woman, thoughtfully. "I found him with a knife -in his hand standing beside the body." - -"He might have entered the room and picked up the knife." - -"But if this is go-and I begin to see things from your point of -view--who killed my husband? I can swear that I did not, and if my -child is innocent, who is guilty?" - -"That is just what we must find out, both to release you from an unjust -imprisonment and to set his mind at rest. Now tell me the whole story -and especially the events of that night. Then I may be in a position to -account for the crime." - -Cheered somewhat by the view he took, Mrs. Jenner told him all she knew -with full details. Two points struck Mr. Heron--one that the window had -been open and that Mrs. Jenner had left her husband standing near it; -the other that he had had in his possession a red pocket-book which had -afterwards disappeared. Beyond this he gathered that her account of the -boasts her husband had made on that night that he had had somebody in -his power, somebody from whom he intended to extort money. - -"And I quite believe that is true," finished the unhappy woman, -bitterly. "He had the instincts of a blackmailer." - -"Well, said Geoffrey, preparing to take his departure. I think the -motive for the crime will be found in that pocket-book. Whoever took -it murdered your husband. The window was open, the book, as you say, -on the table, and near the window your husband was standing. Also," -he added with emphasis, "you say the knife was lying beside the -pocket-book. Now, if your son had used it he would have had to pass -his father to get it and so would have put him on his guard, even if -he had not been prevented from taking it. No, Mrs. Jenner, your son -is innocent, as innocent as yourself. The assassin seized that knife -through the open window and struck the blow in order to get possession -of that pocket-book, which contained--of that I am sure--some document -which would have been used as a lever to extort money. That is my -theory, and I will make it my business to prove that it is the right -one. Meanwhile, I must nurse Neil." - -"You are a good man," said Mrs. Jenner shewing emotion for the first -time, "and what you say seems feasible enough. Go, and do the best you -can. Heaven will reward you. But my son, my darling boy--he may die!" - -"Not if I can help it. I'll pull him round somehow. Keep up your -spirits. You have had a long night, but I believe the dawn is at hand." - -"Heaven bless you!" she said. Then Geoffrey took his leave, to return -to the bedside of Neil Webster. - -While all this was taking place Ruth had not been idle. She had been -annoyed by Heron's letter, and much alarmed at his determination to -stay away. She was beginning to find out that her feeling for him was -stronger than anything the young violinist had inspired in her; but a -streak of obstinacy, inherited from her Spanish grandmother, kept her, -in a manner, true to the man for whom she cared least. Besides this she -was possessed of more than her share of feminine curiosity, and never -faltered in her determination to learn the real cause of Webster's -mysterious departure. She was well aware that her love for him was -not genuine, that it had been founded--as Jennie had very truly told -her--on admiration for the artist, not on love for the man and she was -equally certain that she would never marry him. But all the same she -was resolved to learn his secret, and for many a weary week she plotted -for the achievement of her ends. As far as she knew, both Neil and -Geoffrey were abroad, so she had a fair field. - -After much thought she concluded that her best plan was to make the -attempt through Mrs. Jent, who had been her nurse, and who had always -retained an affection, almost motherly, for her. And the old woman was -a trustful soul, easy enough to manage by the exercise of a little -diplomacy. Ruth's plan was to act as she had done with her father--to -assume that she knew more than she would admit. In this way, taking -into account the simplicity of Mrs. Jent, it was likely that the old -woman would let something slip which would put her on the track. And -Ruth considered that if she had succeeded with a man like her father -she would certainly have no difficulty with a person of Mrs. Jent's -calibre. So she made up her mind as to her best course of action. - -To see Mrs. Jent without arousing suspicion it was necessary that she -should go down to Bognor without her father's knowledge. He would think -it odd that she should, at this juncture, wish to see one who was so -closely connected with her former lover. To avert suspicion, the girl -wrote to an old schoolfellow at Brighton asking her for an invitation. -"I am tired of a dull country life," wrote Miss Cass, "and I should be -so glad of a little amusement. Do ask me down for a week or so." - -Mrs. Prosser fell into the trap. It seemed natural enough to her that -Ruth should want a little gaiety, and she was glad to have a pretty -girl in her house. The presence of beauty would attract a good many men -and, being not averse to an occasional flirtation herself. Mrs. Prosser -judged that she would share in the pleasure to be derived from the -visit. So the desired invitation was promptly despatched, and Mr. Cass, -quite unsuspicious, permitted his daughter's acceptance of it. - -"Perhaps it will put this nonsense about Webster out of your head," he -said as he bade her good-bye. To which remark he received no answer. - -For quite a week Ruth enjoyed herself thoroughly. Mrs. Prosser's house -was a bright one. She entertained a great deal, more especially now -that she had such a charming friend to amuse and to amuse her. That -young lady made amends for Neil's desertion of her, and for Geoffrey's -absence, by flirting to her heart's content, and consigning many youths -to various stages of despair at what they were pleased to call her -fickleness. But she never lost sight of her main object, which was to -drop down on Mrs. Jent without giving that old lady warning of her -coming. She would take her entirely by surprise. - -Accordingly, on the plea that she was going to see her old nurse, Ruth -took the train to _Bognor_, and Mrs. Jent welcomed her visitor with -open arms. Nor indeed--not having been warned--did she conceal the fact -that Mr. Webster was ill in the house and that Geoffrey was nursing him. - -"My dear, how pleased I am to see you!" she cried, settling her -spectacles on her nose. "And quite the young lady, too! How good of -you, my lovey, not to forget your old nurse." - -"As if I ever could," Ruth said, graciously. "And tell me what you are -doing with yourself?" - -"Just living, my dear, just living. What with a boarder or two and the -money your dear papa allows me I rub along." - -"Have you any boarders now?" asked the girl, more for the sake of saying -something than because she felt any interest in the subject. - -"Well, not what you would call boarders, perhaps," said the old lady, -rubbing one withered hand over the other. "At least, one of them isn't, -he is my dear boy Neil." - -"Neil!" with unbounded astonishment, "Neil Webster! Why, he is abroad." - -"No such thing. He is here, my lovey, and has been for two months. -Abroad? Why, the poor darling has been at death's door! Aye, and he -would have entered it, too, if Mr. Heron had not----" - -"Heron? Geoffrey Heron?" - -"Yes, dear, that is him, Heaven bless him. Do you----" - -"Geoffrey Heron here?" interrupted the girl rather to herself than to -the old woman. "Why, he wrote to tell me that he was on the Continent. -What does all this mean, I wonder?" - -"It's not hard to tell the meaning," said Mrs. Jent. "My boy Neil fell -ill, had brain fever, poor lad, and Mr. Heron brought him here from -London that I might nurse him, and he stayed with me. He is almost as -fond of my dear boy as I am." - -"Is he?" said Ruth, blankly. Considering that the two men were, or had -been, rivals for her hand, she could not quite take all this in. - -"Of course he is," said the old woman, with great energy. "A better -gentleman I never wish to see." - -"And is Mr. Webster here?" - -"In the next room, in the most beautiful sleep. I daresay you would -like to see him, my dear, for he has often talked of you. But I daren't -wake him, it would be dangerous. Mr. Heron has gone to Worthing. Will -you wait till he comes back?" - -"I might," replied Ruth, thinking that she would like to prove to Heron -that she was no fool. "Has he also spoken of me?" - -"Often and often, my dear. Why, he loves you; he has told me so a dozen -times." - -The girl stuck her pretty chin in the air and looked supercilious. -"Well, he is nothing to me," she said, crossly. "I don't like deceitful -people. Oh, now, don't defend him," she added, seeing that Mrs. Jent -was about to deliver herself of an indignant speech. "I know more than -you do. As to Mr. Webster, well, he was good enough to say that he -cared for me too." - -"I know. He has often spoken of you to me; but he has got over his -fancy." - -"Oh, indeed!" cried Ruth, more angry than ever. "He calls his love for -me a fancy, does he? Just like a man." Then she suddenly recollected -her errand and resolved to make the best use of her time before -Geoffrey could come back and interfere. "Poor Mr. Webster! No doubt he -is grieving for his parents." - -The old lady started. "What do you know of them?" she asked, sternly. - -"All that he could tell me," was the reply. "He was engaged to me, and -he told me all about himself and his people." - -"How foolish of him," Mrs. Jent said under her breath. "But I hope -you don't think any the less of him, my dear. After all, he is not -responsible for the wickedness of his father and mother." - -Ruth nearly jumped out of her seat. So Neil's father and mother had -been what this old woman called "wicked people." And, moreover, he was -suffering for what they had done in not being allowed to marry her; -that was the way she put it. But she said nothing, and Mrs. Jent went -on talking in the firm belief that her listener knew all the facts of -the case. - -"Of course, it was a long time before he knew anything about his -parents neither Mr. Cass nor I would tell him, you know. But last -Christmas, when he was staying with you, my dear, he found it all out." - -"It was at Christmas that he told me about them," put in Ruth. - -But she did not add that it was of the American parents he had spoken. -Indeed, she could not make out whether Mrs. Jent was alluding to them -or to some other persons of whom she knew nothing. She felt confused. - -"Ah, well," went on the old lady, with a sigh, "I suppose the discovery -was too much for him and he had to tell someone. And why not you? -But, my dear," she laid a withered hand on the girl's arm, "if he had -loved you he would never have told you about that nasty Turnpike House -murder. Did he tell you his name was Jenner, my dear?" - -"No," said the girl, faintly. She knew the truth now. "Only that his -parents--oh, I can't speak of it!" - -"It is terrible." The old lady shook her head. "To think of his mother -having murdered her husband and being in gaol." - -"He never told me that!" shrieked Ruth, for she could play her part no -longer. "Oh, great Heavens, what a horrible thing! No wonder my father -would not let the marriage take place." - -"The marriage!" stammered Mrs. Jent, rising with an expression of alarm -on her face. - -"Yes, I was engaged to him and suddenly he gave me up. My father said -he would never allow me to marry him. I could not make out the reason. -Now I know it, and, oh, how horrible it is!" - -"Then you did not know the truth?" - -"No, no. Neil told me about his American parents----" - -"That was the story we made up to keep him quiet," put in the old -woman. "Yes, Mr. Cass and I thought it best he should not know. He -found out the truth for himself, and--now--I have told it to you." - -"I am glad you have," said Ruth, taking her hand. "Dear nurse, I have -behaved so badly. I wanted to find out why Neil had given me up, and as -father would not tell me I came to you. But I have been punished for my -curiosity. Still, I'm glad--I'm glad. I must give him up now." - -"Indeed, miss," said Mrs. Jent, bristling with indignation. "I think -you ought to stand by the poor boy more than ever. Oh, miss, how could -you play me such a trick? I do hope you'll keep all this to yourself." - -"Of course I will. All the effect it will have upon me is that I shall -think no more of Neil." - -"Ah!" Mrs. Jent shook her head. "I thought I better of you." - -"Good gracious! How can you expect me to marry a man whose mother is in -gaol?" - -"That is not his fault. But take your own way, miss. I think you have -behaved badly in tricking me into speaking secrets. I shall tell your -father at once." - -"I shall tell him myself; you shan't be blamed, nurse. I am a wicked -girl to have done what I have done. There, don't cry, I'm not worth -it. I'll go away and not bother you." And before Mrs. Jent could say -another word Ruth was out of the house and walking swiftly along the -parade. - -Then the unexpected happened, for the first person she met was Geoffrey -Heron! - - - - -CHAPTER XII. -THE TOY HORSE. - - -Geoffrey Heron would as soon have expected to see the sea-serpent off -shore as to meet Ruth Cass walking along the _Bognor_ Parade. However, -there she was, and he had to meet her, to explain himself as best he -could, and to put himself right in her eyes. - -"Miss Cass!" he stammered, taking off his hat and exhibiting a very red -face and confusion of manner usually absent from his demeanour. "I am -astonished to meet you here." - -"I daresay," replied the girl, her nose in the air. "There can be -no doubt about that after all the stones you told me. But I am not -astonished. I have been to see Mrs. Jent." - -"What! Have you seen Webster?" I said Mrs. Jent. "No, Mr. Webster does -not know that I am here. He was asleep, and Mrs. Jent refused to -disturb him even for me. Now what have you to say for yourself?" - -"It is a long story," he said uneasily. - -"In that case we had better sit down." - -"But I must go back to the cottage." - -"In that case I'll go with you. We don't part, Mr. Heron until I have -an explanation of all this. Part of it I understand already." - -"What do you understand?" he asked, startled. - -"For one thing I know now why Neil left me." - -"Impossible!" - -"Nothing is impossible to a woman who has set her heart on finding out -what she wants to know. Neil refused to tell me, papa refused, you -refused in the meanest manner. Well, I have found out--from Mrs. Jent." - -"She never told you!" cried Heron, agitated. - -"Not of her own free will. I got it out of her. But I know now what is -the matter. Ah, I see you don't believe me; you are still incredulous. -Just listen, then. Neil's real name is Jenner; his mother killed his -father, and is now in gaol. Am I right?" - -"Perfectly." He was relieved to find that she did not know the worst. -"I congratulate you on your diplomacy." - -"I thought you were going to use a nastier word. I am sure you were -tempted to." - -"No, believe me----" - -"How can I believe you when you behave as you have done? Why are you -here instead of in Paris?" - -"Because when I saw Webster I found he was very ill. Someone had to look -after him, and I seemed to be the right person just then. You would not -have had me leave the poor fellow to die?" - -"No." Ruth held out her hand, which he seized eagerly. "On the whole I -think you are a very good man, Mr. Heron. But why did you tell me that -you were in Paris, and that Neil also was abroad?" - -"I did so at his request. He considered that he had given your father -enough trouble, and knowing that in all probability he would have a -long illness, he asked me to conceal his whereabouts, so that Mr. Cass -should not come down." - -"Oh, I understand. But about yourself, why did you hide?" - -"In the first place I wanted to look after him. In the second, I did -not wish to see you." - -"Oh, thank you!" cried Ruth, highly indignant. - -"Don t misunderstand me, he said, anxious Neil told me his story--the -story you have got out of Mrs. Jent--and I did not feel justified in -allowing anything so terrible to reach your ears. I knew that I was as -wax in your hands, and that you would probably force me to tell; so I -judged discretion to be the better part of valour, and kept away." - -"I see. But I don't think your discretion will serve you in the long -run. Here is a seat, and there are few people about. Now, Mr. Heron, -sit down and tell me everything from the beginning." - -"Oh, but----" - -"I won't have any 'buts' about it," said Ruth, peremptorily. "I know the -worst, but I know it only in fragments. I want to know the whole." - -"Why?" asked Heron, taking his seat beside her. - -"Can't you guess? Oh, you are stupid. Why, to help poor Neil, of -course." - -"Ah! You are still in love with him!" said Heron, with a jealous pang. - -"No, I am not. I found out long since that I loved someone else better. -Oh, I am not going to tell you his name. I have my secrets as well as -you. But I still like and admire Neil in spite of his misfortunes, and -I want to help him. You are doing that already, and I admire you for -it. Well, we will work together." - -"I should like nothing better. But," Geoffrey hesitated, "can I trust -you? The secret isn't mine, you know." - -"No, it is mine," said Miss Cass, very coolly. "I share it with you and -Mrs. Jent. Whether I know all or not I am not prepared to say, but you -are going to tell me all. Now then!" - -He hesitated. "Very good," he said at length. "I will tell you all I -know, and we will work together to get this poor woman restored to -freedom." - -"What? Is she innocent?" - -"I am certain of that. Whosoever murdered Jenner, it was not his wife." - -"But she was found guilty." - -"She is not the first innocent person who has been found guilty. Wait -till you have heard the whole story, then you shall judge." - -"I certainly should not think of judging beforehand," she said, -disdainfully. "You must not think me silly. Now go on from the very -beginning." - -Seated on the iron bench with his gaze fixed seaward, Heron employed -the best part of an hour in telling the story. Ruth, for the most part, -listened quietly, only now and again putting a question so much to the -point as to amaze her companion. And as he neared the end, and these -questions and comments became more frequent, Geoffrey congratulated -himself on having taken her into his confidence. - -"Poor Neil!" she sighed at last. "How he must have suffered!" - -"And how he does suffer," Heron said, gloomily. "He loves his mother -beyond any created being, and he will never be at peace until he sees -her rescued from the fate to which she has been so unjustly condemned." - -"That shall be our task," responded Ruth, with alacrity. "Neil is too -weak a man to take this burden upon him. Now I know why I could never -love him altogether, why I was never satisfied." - -"What do you mean?" asked Heron, anxiously. - -"Well, it is this way," said Miss Cass, drawing figures on the gravel -with the tip of her umbrella. "I fell in love with him when I heard -him play, he looked so handsome and so noble--so inspired; but when we -were together something always seemed to be wanting. I know now what it -was--strength, the strength of a man. I believe, Geoffrey," she went -on without noticing that she was using his Christian name, that what -a woman wants in a husband is a master. "I wonder if I shall ever get -what I want? I don't know. Are there such men?" She looked sideways at -Heron, not in a coquettish way, but rather wistfully. - -Geoffrey felt that embarrassment which every honest man feels at the -thought of having an egotistical speech forced upon him. He loved this -girl, and he was sure that she loved him. - -"Well, Geoffrey," she said, after waiting in vain for a reply, "I will -be your wife." - -"You will My dearest!" - -"Hush! Don't take my hands; don't speak so loud. We are in a public -place, remember, and many eyes are on us. Yes, I will marry you, for -you are--a man!" - -"But I can never be your master, dearest," he said, filled with -delight; "for who would rule a dove?" - -"Ah! but that is where you are mistaken. I am not a dove by any manner -of means. I am a very self-willed girl; my presence here proves that. I -know you won't be a tyrant and thwart me in little things; but when I -am your wife I know that you, not I, will have the last word; and that -is what I wish it to be." - -"Well, perhaps there is some truth in what you say," he admitted, "but -you shall have your own way, dear--always." - -"Yes, always, that is when it fits in with your own ideas; but I am -quite willing to take you on those terms. You are as strong as Neil, -poor fellow! is weak; and that reminds me," she added, hastily, "that -we must not waste time in talking about ourselves. I must get back to -Brighton." - -"Are you staying there? May I----" - -"Yes, I am staying with an old schoolfellow." She gave him her address. -"And you may come over when you can, but don't neglect poor Neil for me. -We must settle this business first. Let us talk of it." - -"I would rather talk of you," he said, ruefully. "However, duty before -pleasure. What were you going to say?" - -"This. I believe that Mrs. Jenner is not guilty. If she were, she would -have asserted her innocence. The mere fact that she held her tongue is -so wonderful for a woman that I am sure she did not kill her husband." - -"Oh, she is innocent enough; let us accept that as a foregone -conclusion," said Geoffrey, hastily. He would not reveal the real -reason why Mrs. Jenner had not spoken lest Neil's secret should come to -light; so he let Ruth make what she liked out of the woman's silence. - -"Very good; we have decided that she is innocent. Now we must find -out who is guilty. I agree with you, Geoffrey, that the murder was -committed by some stranger. Jenner was near the window, and the crime -was committed in order to get possession of that red pocket-book -which had the materials for blackmailing in it. Now, what we have -to learn is what manner of life he led in the past; find out with -whom he associated, and who there was he would have been likely to -blackmail--then we shall know who killed him. Now, how are we to obtain -all that information? From Mrs. Jenner. I will see her again. She told -me all about the murder, but nothing relating to her past life." - -"There is another person who can tell," Ruth said, thoughtfully. "My -father. Oh, I know--I found out--how, it doesn't matter--that Jenner -was a clerk in papa's office, that Mrs. Jenner was my sister Amy's -governess. I'll ask her. She may know something about Mrs. Jenner -and her husband likely to throw light on all this. And I must go to -the Turnpike House, for there I may find some evidence--I don't know -what--but something." Ruth sighed. "I will go to the Turnpike House if -only out of curiosity. Now, this is what we have to do: You must see -Mrs. Jenner, and find out all you can, setting it down in writing. I -will question papa and Amy, and write down all that they tell me. And I -will go to the Turnpike House, then we will meet and compare notes. Is -it agreed?" - -She rose to her feet. - -"Yes, it is agreed. But do not go yet." - -"I must, or I shall not catch my train, and, besides, I am hungry and -thirsty. I want to go back to Mrs. Jent's and get a cup of tea. Come." - -"Will you see Neil?" he asked as they walked towards the cottage. - -She shook her head. "I think not; the sight of me will only agitate -him. You need not say anything about my having been until he is quite -better. - -"It is odd that you should have spoken of your sister," Heron said, -abruptly, "for Neil has been worrying about her, or, at least, about -her eldest boy, George." - -"Ah, George is a great friend of his and adores him; but what is he -worrying about George for?" - -"Well, he got it into his head some little time ago that he was going -to die, and he wanted to leave George some gift or another." - -"Why didn't he do that in his will?" - -"Well, I expect because it was hardly worth setting down in a legal -document, for the gift is only a toy horse, a brown animal of but -little beauty. Neil has had it all his life, and has an extraordinary -affection for it. Nothing would do but that I should take it to George. -So now, as you will no doubt be going up to your sister's in town, you -might save me the journey by taking it for me. Will you, dear? It is -wrapped up and all ready to go." - -Ruth laughed. "Oh, I will take it with pleasure, and I'm quite sure -George will be delighted. He is five now, and just the age for such a -toy. By the way, I suppose you know that Amy has engaged Jennie Brawn -to teach him?" - -"Has she really? And what may she be going to teach him--how to write -poetry?" - -"Geoffrey, I really can't have you making fun of Jennie, for she -is the dearest girl in all the world. Now, I know what you are going to -say, and you may just save yourself the trouble. It was I who asked Amy -to engage her. Her family are all so poor, and she makes next to nothing -out of her poetry besides, her sister is old enough to look after the -house. Amy is paying her very well, too. I will say that for Amy, she -is not shabby over money." - -Geoffrey laughed and held open the gate. Ruth was received by her old -nurse with some stiffness, for Mrs. Jent had not yet forgiven the trick -which had been played upon her. But the girl apologised so charmingly -that the heart of the old dame was softened, and when she heard from -Mr. Heron that Miss Cass was going to help him prove Mrs. Jenner's -innocence and so restore Neil's peace of mind she became quite herself -again. - -"Though I don't see, sir, how you are going to help Mrs. Jenner," she -said. "She killed him sure enough; she killed him." - -"No, she didn't," Ruth said, decidedly. "I am certain she is innocent." - -"If she was, why didn't she say so?" Mrs. Jent asked. - -"That Mr. Heron is going to find out from her." - -"I shall ask her, of course," Heron said, in some confusion. - -Ruth's eyes were on him like a flash, and Ruth's eyes saw more than -they were intended to see. - -"You know why she did not speak, Geoffrey?" - -"Yes, I do," he confessed, "but I cannot tell you why. Don't ask me." - -"Has it to do with Neil?" - -"Don't ask me," he repeated, with a frown. "I decline to tell you." - -Meanwhile Mrs. Jent had prepared the table, observing betweenwhiles -that Neil still slept. Geoffrey had already been to see him, having -seized the opportunity while Ruth and her old nurse were making up -their tiff; and he reported that the invalid looked much better for the -rest. He had brought with him a paper parcel. - -"Here is the horse, Ruth," he said. - -"The horse!" cried Mrs. Jent, who was pouring out the tea. "Is that my -dear boy's horse--the one he wants to give to little Master Chisel?" - -"Yes, I should have sent it long ago, but now Miss Ruth will take it." - -"Don't you, miss, don't you!" said the old woman. "It will bring no -good luck to the child. That was the toy with which my dear boy was -playing when his father was murdered!" - -"Ugh!" exclaimed the girl, dropping the parcel with horror. - -"Ah, you may well say that." And Mrs. Jent nodded her head. "I don't -know what possesses Mr. Neil to give it to Master George. It is true my -dear boy loves it. But think of the history! He has forgotten it. He -carried that toy with him when his poor mother ran away into the night. -All through his illness he held to it, and when we took it away he -cried so much that we had to give it back. The nasty thing!" finished -Mrs. Jent with energy. "Throw it into the fire." - -"No, no," cried Geoffrey, picking it up. "Neil would never forgive us -if we did that. I'll keep it here and not give it to George at all." - -"Give it to me," and Ruth took the parcel from him. "I won't let George -have it, but I'll take it down with me to Hollyoaks." - -"What for?" asked Geoffrey, uneasily. "It has disagreeable -associations." - -"For that very reason," said Ruth. "There is a clairvoyant near our -place, a lady I know very well. If you put a thing into her hands she -can tell you all about it." - -"Nonsense!" cried Geoffrey, laughing, while Mrs. Jent held up her hands -and muttered something about the Witch of Endor. - -"It is not nonsense," Ruth said, energetically. "Mrs. Garvey tells the -most wonderful things. At all events I'll try her with this. Who knows -but she may see in her vision--which this will bring to her"--said Ruth -in parenthesis--"the face of the murderer looking through the window." - -"I don't believe a word of it," laughed Geoffrey, with the scepticism -of a man of the world. "It is ridiculous. However, if you like you can -try, but don't ask me to be present at your hanky-panky." - -"I won't," laughed Ruth. "But I'll make a convert of convert of you by -getting Mrs. Garvey to say who killed Neil's father." - -"Hush!" murmured Mrs. Jent, glancing nervously at the inner door. "He -will hear, Make no mistake, Miss, Mrs. Jenner did it." - -"I am certain she did not. However, I trust Mrs. Garvey to put us on -the right track. I take the horse down with me." And take it she did, -with results quite unexpected to herself, to Heron, and to Mrs. Jent. - -Then she had a cup of tea and was escorted by Geoffrey to the station. -Needless to say she teased him the whole way. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. -JOB, THE SAPENGRO. - - -In another week Ruth took leave of the delights of Brighton, much to -the regret of Mrs. Presser. A letter from Hollyoaks had advised her -that Mrs. Chisel and her three children were down on a visit, and that -Jennie Brawn, in the capacity of governess, was with them. Mr. Cass, -it appeared, had gone to Bordeaux on business, so Ruth was wanted to -represent him at the paternal mansion. And anxious to start hunting -for evidence likely to reveal the truth about the Jenner case, she -willingly returned. - -Mrs. Chisel was a tall and somewhat stout woman of the Junoesque -type, with a high opinion of herself, her children, her position, her -money, and, indeed, of everything which belonged to her, with the one -exception of her husband. When Mrs. Marshall heard that Amy Chisel was -at Hollyoaks she sent word that she would not enter her brother's house -until it was purged of the presence of his elder daughter. In reply to -this amiable message Mrs. Chisel hoped her aunt Inez would not spoil -her visit by coming over. Upon which Mrs. Marshall made a point of -calling every other day and remarking openly and unfavourably upon her -niece's management of her children. - -These comments were really quite undeserved; for the three children -whom Mrs. Chisel--on sufficiently obvious authority--called "her -jewels" were nice little people, pretty and well-behaved. The two -girls, aged respectively seven and ten, were demure and even a trifle -prim. They were always smartly dressed and never made a mess of their -clothes. And, moreover, they stood in great awe of their mother, who, -as she frequently told them, was a woman in a thousand. It was as well, -perhaps, for the peace of the world that such was the case. - -Needless to say, Ruth did not present Neil's gift to her little nephew. -Mrs. Garvey must see it; and meanwhile she kept it stowed away; for had -her sister known that it was intended for George, she would have had it -out of her at all costs. - -It was on the morning after her arrival that Ruth and Amy had their -first little encounter; the subject of it being Mr. Geoffrey Heron. - -"What a fool you have made of yourself falling in love with that violin -creature!" cried Mrs. Chisel in her high rasping voice. "He is no fit -husband for you!" - -"He would, after all, make a more sensible husband than Julian," -retorted Ruth, who shared her sister's opinion of the unhappy Chisel. -"And, thank you, Amy, I have a right to choose a husband for myself. - -"You are not fit to do so," remarked Mrs. Chisel, with her customary -tact. "If you were a sensible girl you would marry Geoffrey Heron, and -take a good position in the county." - -"I would not marry Mr. Heron if there were not another man in the -world" cried the girl, mendaciously. "Why are you so disagreeable, Amy?" - -"Disagreeable?" echoed the matron. "I am the most agreeable woman in -existence when I am properly treated. No one but my own family thinks -me disagreeable." - -"Ah! they know you so well," said Ruth. - -"That's just it; you none of you know me. If I were like Aunt Inez, -now, you might talk; she is disagreeable, if you like." - -"Well, Amy," said Ruth, who had more important things to discuss, "do -not let us quarrel." - -"Do I ever quarrel? I ask you that!" - -"No; you never do," replied the girl, knowing well what answer was -expected. "But do leave my marriage prospects alone, my dear!" - -"I'm the last person in the world to interfere," cried Mrs. Chisel. "I -think a girl should settle those things for herself. But I must say I -should be happy if I saw you married to Geoffrey Heron." - -"In that case you'll live for many a long day yet." And Ruth made a -hurried exit. - -This was one of many tiffs they had. In spite of Ruth's diplomacy, Amy -would make trouble; so, in despair, Miss Cass asked Aunt Inez to come -as often as possible--and the amiable lady, knowing Amy did not want -her, took good care to come. So Ruth was left in peace; for when the -battles were raging, she generally took refuge with Jennie. - -One of the first things she did on meeting Miss Brawn was to tell -her all about Neil's troubles; that she had promised Geoffrey to say -nothing about them did not matter to her. For she was a woman, and -found it difficult enough to keep a secret; besides which, she knew -that Jennie could be trusted, being a girl who could hold her tongue -when necessary. And Ruth wanted someone with whom she could discuss the -case, and any new facts which came to light. So there and then she told -Jennie everything. - -"Isn't it terrible, dear?" she said when Miss Brawn was in possession -of the whole sad story. "What do you think of it?" - -"I think Mrs. Jenner would be the last person in the world to kill her -husband, from what you say of her. But, oh, the poor Master! How he -must suffer! Ruth, was it because of this you gave him up?" And she -looked volumes of reproach. - -"No, my dear, it was not. If I had really loved him this would only -have made me cling closer; but I merely admired him--as you said. And I -find that I like Geoffrey Heron better." - -"But you told your sister----" - -"I know what I told her!" snapped Ruth. "I am not going to give her the -satisfaction of thinking she has biassed my judgment in any way. You -must keep my secret, Jennie, until I have told my father. When he has -consented, which I know he will do very willingly, Geoffrey and I can -arrange our future. But I do not want our engagement to be known until -this mystery has been cleared up. - -"It may never be cleared up." - -"Oh yes, it will. I have taken the matter in hand," said the girl, -grandly. "If the truth is to be found out, I shall be the one to find -it. And I am going to the Turnpike House to make a search." - -"What do you expect to find?" - -"I don't know," she said, vaguely. "I may discover something--I don't -exactly know what; but, at all events," she broke off, "it will do no -harm to make a search on the very scene of the tragedy. As to Neil--now -that he won't marry me--you can make love to him, Jennie dear!" - -Miss Brawn coloured. "I shall do nothing of the sort," she declared. "I -love him, it is true; but I am not going to hunt after him, or after -any man, for that matter." - -"My dear," Ruth said, and there was a world of pity in her voice, "you -can't live with Amy all your life--she will wear you out!" - -Jennie laughed in her quiet way. "I am not so easily worn out," she -said; "and, indeed, I am very comfortable with Mrs. Chisel; she is most -kind. I daresay some people would think her trying, but, after all, her -heart is in the right place." - -"Ah, that is always said about people who have nothing else to -recommend them," Ruth said, with a grimace. "Well, I am going out now -to make my grand discovery at the Turnpike House--and you, Jennie?" - -"Oh, I have my teaching. Mildred and Ethel must have their lessons." - -"It is not as nice as writing poetry." - -"No, of course not. But we can't have all we want in this world." - -"You shall have Neil, if I can get him for you." - -"Don't--don't! I should die of shame it you said a word to him. Now, -promise me, Ruth, that you will not interfere." - -"Not without telling you. Oh, you stupid dear, there are ways of -managing a man without speaking. But have no fear," she added, "Neil is -far enough away just now, and won't be well, poor fellow, for many a -long day. You are safe from my match-making for a time, Jennie." - -"I'm glad of that. You are so impetuous, you know." - -Miss Cass laughed, and, with a nod, took her departure. Mrs. Chisel -saw her from the drawing-room window and frowned. "There she goes all -alone, to walk by herself," she said, tautologically. "It is positively -indecent to see a young girl without a chaperon. But, then, Ruth is so -headstrong." And Mrs. Chisel sighed to think how foolish the girl was -not to take her for a model. - -But Ruth's beauty was well protected by Ruth's temper; and she would -have travelled through Thibet as fearlessly as she now walked through -the lonely country towards the old Turnpike House. - -With her usual perversity Miss Cass did not keep to the high road as -an ordinary young lady should and would have done; she made a bee-line -for her destination right across country, She passed through fields, -and clambered over hedges; she slipped along by paths, until in a -remarkably short space of time she saw the dilapidated house nested in -its green jungle. It looked haggard and evil even in the cheerful light -of the morning sun. - -"Well, here I am!" she said, tempting Fate with her usual bold speech. -"What is going to happen next?" - -As if in answer to her call, a face suddenly appeared at the -window--the very window, as she believed through which the assassin -had struck at his unhappy victim. It was a swarthy, cunning face with -coal-black eyes, having over them the kind of film which veils the -eyes of birds. The tangled black hair crowned a sallow, lean, Oriental -countenance; and the un-English look of the man--for it was a man--was -accentuated by a red scarf twisted round a sinewy throat. It was not -his foreign appearance that startled Ruth, but the look of death on the -face. He was far gone in consumption. Seeing a pretty girl he leered, -and cast a sly glance of admiration at her. - -"Duvel! My beauty," he croaked, hoarsely. "What's to do here?" - -"Nothing that can possibly matter to you," retorted Miss Cass, who was -not to be daunted by a gypsy. "Are you living here?" - -"I live here at times," said the man, evidently surprised at the -boldness of her address, "but mostly I'm on the road and in the tent of -the Romany. I'm no Gorgio to care for a roof-tree; but it's cruel work -in this England." - -"I see the climate is killing you," replied Ruth, for she was sorry to -see so fine a man suffering from an incurable disease. "You should get -a doctor to see you." - -"Oh, my gorgeous angel, what things you say!" whined the man. "Where am -I to get the tizzy to pay? Give me a shilling, Miss." - -The girl took a half-crown from her pocket and gave it to him. He -disappeared from the window and came outside. Man and girl surveyed -each other in silence. - -"What is your name?" Ruth asked coolly. - -"Job," he said. "I belong to the Lovels, I do. And I'm a Sapengro, I -am." - -"What's that?" - -Job slipped his hand into his breast and brought out a small viper with -gleaming eyes, and a yellow body which glittered like gold. "This is a -sap," he said, and held the reptile towards Ruth. - -"Oh, I see. You are the master of the snake." - -"Duvel!" The gypsy stared at her in astonishment, and the film seemed -to peel off his eyes. "Do you know the black language?" - -"I know that 'engro' means a 'master,'" the girl said, carelessly, "and -you tell me that 'sap' is 'snake' so I put the two together. Master of -the Snake, Job Lovel--that's what you are." - -"Hang me if I ever heard a Gentile lady so bold!" cried the man, with -another stare, slipping the hissing viper back into his breast. "But I -say, lady, have you more coin--a mere sovereign now?" - -"I have not; and if I had, you would not get it." - -"But if I were to make you!" Job took a step forward. - -"I would run this through you!" And the gypsy found a shining steel -weapon at his breast. He started back with an oath. Ruth laughed; and -there was a merciless ring in her mirth which did more to terrify the -man than the sight of the weapon itself. "You are a brave Sapengro, -brother, to try and terrify a woman!" she said, in the Romany tongue. - -"Duvel!" cried Job again, and his expression changed to one of -friendliness and admiration. "Why didn't you say you were a Romany?" - -"Because I am a Gentile, brother," Ruth said, still in the calo jib. "I -took a fancy to learn your tongue, and I learnt it from a gypsy. I knew -Lurien, Dukkeripen, Hakkeripen, and all the rest. Well, can I put up my -dagger?" - -"You are a sacred sister to me," said Job, with deep respect; and she -saw from his manner that she had nothing further to fear. Indeed, he -offered her the half-a-crown which she had already given him. "Take it, -sister," he said. "You are a true gypsy to me, and I take nothing from -you." - -She laughed, and slipped her dagger into its sheath. "Keep it, Job," -she said, reverting to the English tongue. "I see you are poor and ill." - -"I am dying," replied the man in a sombre tone, still looking at her. -"Ah, soon I shall be in the earth with my sap--my only friend." - -"You had better go to Hollyoaks and get some food. - -"Hollyoaks?" he repeated, fixing his shining eyes on this--to him--very -extraordinary Gentile lady. "Do you live there? Is your name Cass?" - -"Yes; I am the daughter of Mr. Cass, of Hollyoaks." - -"Duvel! and you come here!" he said, under his breath, and casting a -glance at the cottage behind him. - -"Why shouldn't I come here?" she asked, sharply. She fancied she saw an -uneasy look on his face. - -"Oh, nothing, my sister--nothing. You have an aunt--she is not Romany?" - -"Mrs. Marshall? No. She knows nothing of the calo jib. Why do you ask?" - -Job burst out laughing, and nodded. "I go to her house for food -sometimes. She won't see me die for want of a crust. But you are her -niece," there was a puzzled look in his eyes. "Can I help you?" - -"No. I only came to look at the place. There was a murder committed -here." - -"Yes; but that was before I came into this part of the country. Well, -sister, what of that?" - -"Nothing. You can go; I want to look round here for a time. - -"I go, sister," he said, significantly. He held out the viper. "Will -you take the sap, my gorgeous Gentile lady?" - -"Ugh! No." She recoiled with a shriek from the wriggling reptile. "Take -the nasty thing away!" - -He stared and thrust it again into his bosom. - -"Ho!" he said. "You are a queer Gentile, you--like a man for boldness; -yet you fear a sap! Oh, rare." And he slapped his knee with a chuckle. - -"Go away," repeated Ruth. "Go to Hollyoaks and get some food." - -"Duvel!" he cried, quickly. "I'm for the road. My hunger is great. -Farewell, sister, I shall see you again," and he swung off with a -hacking cough tearing him, and smiling his careless smile. - -His tall form passed into the sunlight and vanished round a curve -of the road. Ruth watched him till he was out of sight, then took -her cane and began poking about the rubbish under the window where, -as Geoffrey surmised, the murderer had stood watching his intended -victim. On bending down to examine the ground more carefully, she saw -something glittering dimly. Almost without thinking she picked it up, -and found to her surprise and joy that it was an oval piece of gold -with a champagne bottle enamelled thereon with exquisite art. On the -other side was a catch which proved that the oval had formed part of a -cuff-link. Holding it in her small pink palm, Ruth looked now on this -treasure with the greatest delight. - -"This was dropped by the murderer," she said to herself. "It was torn -from his shirt cuff as he struck the blow, or there might have been a -quick struggle. Fancying my finding it after all these years! The rain -from the eaves has laid it bare. Ah! then the assassin was a gentleman. -Well, I ought to be satisfied with my day's work, but I shall come -again. What good fortune to have found this the very first time." - -She was so excited that she almost danced along the road as she took -her way home. But after a while she sobered down somewhat and glanced -suspiciously around for there had come upon her an undefinable feeling -of being watched. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. -THE CLAIRVOYANT. - - -If Ruth had but gone carefully through the deserted hovel she would -have made yet another discovery. Her instinct had not played her false -when she had felt that unfriendly eyes were upon her. For she had -been watched, and the watcher now emerged from the house to see her -disappear down the road. Much later on she came to know of the spy. - -At all events she had found the link--the pale gold oval with the -champagne bottle enamelled upon it. It was a strange device, she -thought, for a sleeve-link; certainly it was the first of the kind she -had seen. And she fancied that the other portions of the links would -bear the same design; but in this she was wrong. What she had found -proved to her that the assassin had been a gentleman; for no poor -creature could have afforded to wear such jewellery. But how to make -use of the discovery? How was she to find out to whom the link had -belonged, especially now that so many years had passed? The owner might -be dead; he might be out of England! There remained the one expedient -of asking Mrs. Jenner if she could remember anyone who had worn such -links. So this Ruth made up her mind to do as soon as she could see -Geoffrey. He might question the unfortunate woman; and through a series -of leading questions the truth might be revealed. Meanwhile, feeling -that nothing else was to be done for the moment, she went to see Mrs. -Garvey. With her powers, she might reveal strange things about the -owner of that piece of gold. - -The girl had intended to take the brown horse with her; but on going -to the drawer in which she had put it she found it empty. Then she -remembered that her little nieces had received permission to turn over -her silks and laces she questioned them about the missing toy, and -Ethel, the eldest, frankly confessed that they had taken it for their -brother George. - -"I hope you do not mind, Aunt Ruth," the child said, pleadingly; "you -said we could take what we liked that wet day, so long as we put the -things tidy. We thought George might like the horse, so we gave it to -him." - -Strange, thought Ruth, that the toy should have passed into the very -hands for which it was intended; but she shuddered at the thought of -the lad playing with a thing of such ghastly associations! It was her -own fault; she had forgotten that it was in that drawer when she had -told the children that they might play with her chiffons. - -"But I told you, Ethel, to put them back," she said. "Why did you not -replace the toy?" - -Ethel drew a piteous lip and tears came into her eyes. "Oh, don't be -cross, Aunt Ruth, and don't tell mother! You know how angry she will -be. We put everything back but the horse, and George would not give it -up to us." - -"Why could you not take it from him?" her aunt asked, impatiently. - -"Because he has hidden it away," sobbed the little girl. "He won't say -where it is." - -So, after pacifying the child, Ruth went off in search of George. She -came upon that young gentleman on the terrace playing with a cart. -Naturally, she looked for the horse which should have been drawing the -vehicle, but no horse was to be seen. "Where is your gee-gee?" coaxed -Aunt Ruth. - -"Gone to grass," lisped George, who was precocious beyond telling. - -"You bring him back from grass, Georgie, and give him to Aunt Ruth." - -But this he positively refused to do. The animal was hidden away, and -all she could say or do failed to compel its production. "Dobbin is -ill; he is in the paddock," was all that he would say. And from this -position she failed to move him. - -Ultimately she had to go without it. She made George promise to bring -it from the paddock next day, and relying on this slender chance of -recovering a toy which should never have fallen into his hands, Ruth -went her way, hoping to learn something from Mrs. Garvey about the -broken link. - -Mrs. Garvey was a thin, pale woman, who practised the calling of a -clairvoyant, in opposition to her husband's wishes. - -"My dear!" cried the lady, receiving Ruth with great effusion. "I am -glad to see you. But this is not unexpected; for it was borne in upon -me, by some telepathic communication, that you were in trouble, and -would come to me for assistance. Well. I am quite ready to give it to -you." - -"Do you know----" Ruth began, somewhat I puzzled by this exordium. - -"I know nothing--nor do I wish to know. The spiritual insight I possess -will reveal to me what is for your good. Come into my temple, and I -will see what is to be done." - -The room which was dignified by the name of temple was a small bare -apartment thickly carpeted, the windows being darkened by green blinds. -For quite three minutes there was a dead silence. Then Mrs. Garvey -spoke. "Murder," she said, in a low emotional voice. "This piece of -gold has to do with a crime. I see a bare room--a child with a knife -in his hand--a dead man at the child's feet. There is hate in my -heart--not of the child; but of the dead. I am in the darkness--in -mist--in rain--the dead man is my enemy he will trouble me no more." - -"But who are you?" cried Ruth, her blood running cold at hearing the -circumstances of the crime so minutely described. - -The woman gave a low cry. "I will not tell--I will not tell!" she said, -in a fierce voice, quite at variance with that in which she usually -spoke. "I am safe after all these years! I am--you--will never----" Her -voice died away in a drawl, and she became silent. - -"Tell me more--more!" cried Ruth, springing towards her. But Mrs. -Garvey made no reply. The influence of the spirit, of the piece of -gold, or whatever else it was that moved her, had passed, and she was -in what appeared to be a heavy sleep. - -Seeing that nothing further was to be got out of her for the moment, -Ruth obeyed the instructions which she had received beforehand, and -drawing up the green blind, opened the window. The light and the keen -air pouring into the room seemed to dispel Mrs. Garvey's drowsiness. -She stirred, moved her arms, and woke with a yawn to find Miss Cass -bending over her. Of all that had passed she was evidently quite -oblivious; she even seemed surprised at the sight of her visitor's -scared face. - -"My dear," she said at last, "I hope I have not been telling you -anything very terrible!" - -"Don't you know what you have said?" - -"No. Something speaks through me; I am only the vehicle. I remember -nothing when I come out of my trances." - -"Do you know anything about the Turnpike House murder?" - -Mrs. Garvey started. "Ah! it was about that crime you have been asking -me--the Jenner tragedy? I know--the man was murdered by his wife. And -what has this piece of gold got to do with it?" - -"It belonged to the murderer," Ruth said with a shudder. "It seemed -to me that you spoke in the person of the murderer. You described the -room, its appearance at the time of the crime--the dead body, and -a child holding a knife, and looking on. Then you said you were in -darkness, that you would never be found out, and--oh! you said a lot of -strange things--that the child had a knife in his hand, and that he was -standing over the body," faltered Ruth, thinking she was about to hear -that Neil had killed his father. - -Mrs. Garvey shook her head. "It was not the child," she said, -decidedly; "he would not have had those links about him. The man who -killed his father wore them, else I could not have told you what I did. -Where did you find this piece of gold?" - -"Under the window of the room in which the crime was committed. What -you say fits in with my own belief that the blow was struck through the -window. You can't remember who you were--in the trance, I mean?" - -"No," said the woman gently; "I remember nothing. Find the man to whom -the link belongs. I can give no further or better advice than that." - -"That is easier said than done," protested the girl. "How am I to find -the man?" - -Mrs. Garvey shook her head. She could give no more information, and she -said so. Moreover, she was exhausted after the effort she had made, -seeing which Ruth took her broken link and returned home more perplexed -than ever; that being the usual frame of mind of those who dabble in -the supernatural. Yet she fully believed what the clairvoyant had told -her; Mrs. Garvey could not possibly have known of the scene in that -bare room immediately after the crime had been committed. Mrs. Jenner -alone could have described it; and she had told it only to Geoffrey -Heron. - -Although Miss Cass's thoughts were much taken up with the case, she saw -no way of prosecuting further inquiries. The toy horse in the hands of -the clairvoyant might perhaps have helped her; but, truth to tell, she -had forgotten all about it! Meanwhile she wrote to Geoffrey and related -what had happened. With regard to the clairvoyant, she quite expected -that the hard-headed young man would scoff at her; but, much, to her -surprise, he did not. In place of a letter, the young squire himself -appeared, with full permission from Neil to tell Ruth the reason why -his mother had held her peace. He did not stay at Hollyoaks, but drove -over from his own place. - -Mrs. Chisel received him with effusion, and worried him with questions -about himself; and all the time, for reasons of his own connected -with love and business, he was dying to be alone with Miss Cass. At -length, however, Mrs. Chisel, putting it in her own graceful way, -thought it would only be fair to give poor Ruth her chance of pushing -her conquest; so she left the winter garden on the plea that her dear -children required their mother's eye; and Geoffrey Heron proceeded at -once to the business which had brought him. - -"I am beginning to think something of your clairvoyant after all," he -said. "What you wrote to me about Mrs. Garvey's description of the -scene must be wonderfully accurate; yes, even to the child with the -knife in his hand. That child was Neil; and it was because his mother -found him standing thus that she has undergone all this punishment -without speaking a word in her own defence." - -"Gracious!" was Ruth's not very original exclamation. "Did she believe -that he had killed his father? How terrible!" - -"Very terrible!" said Heron, gravely. "Now you can understand how it -was that Webster was taken ill. For his mother had told him that she -believed him to have killed his father; then she forbade him to re-open -the case. She was perfectly willing to remain where she was so long as -he was safe and free." - -"Oh, she is a noble woman!" cried Ruth. "But it was not Neil who either -consciously or unconsciously committed the crime; Mrs. Garvey says he -did not. But who it was she cannot tell. One moment, Geoffrey, and I -will tell you all more explicitly than I could do by letter." And she -proceeded to relate the whole story from beginning to end. - -"Well, we are as far from the truth as ever," Geoffrey said, when she -had finished. "I think the next step is to shew that broken link to -Mrs. Jenner. She may be able to remember someone who used to wear such -an ornament." - -Ruth took the link out of her purse and gave it to him. "But you will -send it back again when you have done with it?" she said. "I want to -keep it." - -"As a memento of this horrible affair?" he asked, with a smile. "You -are like the man who had a book bound in a human skin. I do not care -for such things myself; but you shall have it back with a full report -of what Mrs. Jenner says. And now, dear, I think we may talk a little -about ourselves. After all, this case is not the whole of life to us." - -And they did talk about themselves. Among other things, she told him of -her encounter with Job, the Sapengro, and his astonishment when she had -spoken to him in the Romany tongue. "How on earth did you learn it?" he -asked, amazed. - -"Oh, when I was at school, and after I left, too, I was fond of reading -Lavengro." - -Then they dropped the subject, and were busy talking of themselves and -their prospects when Mrs. Chisel glided into the room; and Geoffrey -found that he had an important engagement at the nearest town, and took -his leave. For the society of the elder sister was more than he could -endure. They both went to see him off, and at the door a few whispered -words passed between him and Ruth. Mrs. Chisel was immediately on the -alert. - -"What did he say to you?" she asked as soon as he was out of earshot. - -"He made me an offer of marriage, which, of course, I refused," Ruth -said, flippantly, and then darted off to seek safety in her own room -before the offended matron could empty upon her the vials of her wrath. - -On her way up she was stopped by Mildred Chisel, who held up a new -doll for inspection. "I call her Jane," said the small child, in a -confidential whisper. "She is new, but her clothes are old. See, Aunt -Ruth, she has all the dresses and brooches of old Peggy." - -Ruth looked carelessly at the doll. Then her eyes were suddenly caught -by an ornament which served, in Mildred's eyes, for a brooch. It was a -gold oval, enamelled with a horse, and it was the double--in all but -the device--of the link which she had found. "Where did you get that?" -she asked, faintly. - -"Oh, grandpapa gave me that brooch!" replied the child. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. -THE PUNISHMENT OF CURIOSITY. - - -For the first time in her careless, happy life Ruth knew the torments -of an anxious mind. A chill struck through her very being at the -suggestion that her dearly-loved father might be implicated in the -sordid tragedy. Yet she did not lose her presence of mind, but wheedled -the so-called brooch out of Mildred on the strict understanding that it -should be restored next morning. - -Her thoughts were painful in the extreme. For an examination of the -piece of gold proved beyond doubt that it belonged to the same set of -links as did the one she found under the window. Now Ruth recollected -that in some Bond-street shop she had seen a similar set of links, -the four ovals of which were enamelled respectively with a horse, -a champagne bottle, a pack of cards, and a ballet girl. They were -playfully denominated the four vices. - -"Of course it is utterly impossible that he can have anything to do -with it," she thought as she paced her bedroom. "There could have been -no motive. Yet again, how did he, of all men, come into possession of -that link?" - -She remembered now the horror she had felt at the idea of marrying Neil -when she had come to know that his mother was--at least to all outward -appearances--a murderess. She judged that if her father should be -guilty then Geoffrey would feel the same towards her. Again and again -she tried to find some explanation, and again and again she failed. -Only by her father himself could her doubts be set at rest, and he was -absent. True, he would return in three days; but how to live during -that time with this hideous doubt in her mind? She could imagine now -how people felt when they were going mad. Sending down an excuse for -not appearing at dinner, she went to bed. To face the world, even her -own small world, was more than she could bear. Her only relief was in -solitude. - -Of course, as might have been expected, Amy came up to fuss over her -and offer advice and blame her for having made herself ill in some way -which Mrs. Chisel herself would have avoided. - -Then in came Jennie, creeping like a mouse, with soothing speech and -cool hands for the burning brow of the sick girl. - -"I am not well dear," she said, in reply to Miss Brawn's inquiries. -"All I want is a good night's rest. In the morning I shall be myself -again." And with this answer Jennie had to be content. - -Left to herself, Ruth began her self-communings. It crossed her mind -that her father, who had always been a great admirer of beauty, might -have been attracted by Mrs. Jenner's good looks. But even as she -thought of it she dismissed the idea with a blush of shame. Who was -she to think ill of her father? But she would certainly question Mrs. -Chisel about her former governess, and would learn what had been Mr. -Cass's attitude towards her. - -Ruth, anxious to propitiate her, offered on the following morning to -help with the work, but was told she could not do it as Mrs. Chisel -wished. In spite of which disagreeable speech she waited patiently for -an opportunity of introducing the subject of Amy's childhood and Amy's -governess, and kept her temper, as best she might, under a deluge of -platitudes and self-glorification on the part of her sister. - -At length, after having made attacks upon several of her acquaintances, -the good lady indirectly introduced the subject upon which Ruth wished -to speak by giving her opinion as to the incapacity of Jennie Brawn as -governess. - -"I do not say she does not do her best," she said, magnanimously, "but, -oh, dear me! Jane Brawn"--so she invariably referred to Jennie--"has no -more idea of teaching than a Hottentot. I know how the thing should be -done, as I have told her a dozen times, but she will not take advice." - -"What about your own governess?" put in Ruth, artfully. "Was she any -good, Amy?" - -"She was excellent--as a governess," returned Mrs. Chisel, with a sniff -of disparagement; "but as a woman she left much to be desired." - -"But, my dear Amy, how do you know that? You were only a child." - -"Children are much sharper than their elders give them credit for. I -was ten years of age when Miss Laurence left and quite old enough to -see through her designs." - -"Miss Laurence? Was that her name, Amy?" - -"Yes. She afterwards married a man called Jenner, a clerk in papa's -office, and we saw no more of her as I had gone to school. A very good -thing, too," went on Mrs. Chisel, with an air of offended virtue. -"My mother never liked her. And she did turn out badly, after all, -murdering her husband. I can only say it was a mercy it was not papa." - -"Why should it have been papa?" asked Ruth, with a beating heart. - -Mrs. Chisel tossed her head and observed that men were always men. -"Papa is as good as the best of them," she added, "but all the same, he -is a son of Adam, like the rest. And when an artful minx---- Ah, well, -it does not do to talk of these things." - -"I see," said Ruth, taking the bull by the horns. "Miss Laurence was -pretty, papa was weak, and mamma----" - -"Ruth!" screamed her sister, stopping her ears. "I will not hear these -things! How can you speak so of papa? Pretty, indeed! I never thought -her pretty. If you like--oh, yes, she would have made a fool of papa if -mamma had not dismissed her." - -"I thought she left here to get married?" - -"You may think what you like," Mrs. Chisel said with dignity. "No one -can say that I talk about the weaknesses of my parents. All the same, -Mrs. Jenner, as she now is, was a minx, And made eyes at papa. I saw -something of that, and I heard more. Though I was a child, I was not a -fool, Ruth. Oh, it was as well that she left Hollyoaks, I can tell you. -What an escape for poor, dear papa!" - -And more than this Mrs. Chisel would not say. But Ruth had gathered -that Miss Laurence had been an apple of discord in the house. From all -that she had heard, in the strange way in which sharp children do hear -things, Ruth had come to think that her mother had been more than a -trifle jealous. Doubtless, if Amy's story could be believed, she had -hated Mrs. Jenner for her beauty and had got her out of the house. She -anxiously awaited the return of Mr. Cass from Bordeaux. - -In due time he arrived, looking all the better for his journey, and was -welcomed by Mrs. Chisel with enthusiasm. He was more pleased to see his -grandchildren than their mother, for, like everyone else, he found her -a trifle wearisome. As for Ruth, when she saw once more her father's -grave face and kindly eyes, she was ashamed of all that had been in her -mind; and she displayed so much affection that Mr. Cass was surprised, -for as a rule his younger daughter was not demonstrative. - -"You don't look well, Ruth," he said. And indeed her face was worn and -thin. "What is the matter?" - -"Nothing, papa. What should be the matter?" - -"You are worrying about young Webster?" he asked, rather sharply. - -"No, indeed," she protested. "I have quite got over my feeling for him. -It was a mere girlish fancy." - -"Of course it was," put in Mrs. Chisel, with superior wisdom. "And she -is taking my advice, papa, about Mr. Heron." - -"Is this true, Ruth?" - -"Well, it may be," she said, hesitatingly. "I like him much better -than I did. Have you heard anything of Mr. Webster, papa?" For she was -anxious to hear if her father knew that Neil was at Bognor. - -"No, nothing. I believe he is abroad, and I sincerely hope that he will -stay there. Marry Heron, my dear Ruth, and forget all about him." - -Ruth found it impossible to say more then, but determined to wait until -her sister had retired for the night before seeking speech with her -father. - -Mr. Cass was pleasantly surprised when Ruth came into the library about -ten o'clock. As a rule he saw her only for an hour in the drawing-room -after dinner. He had quite expected that the two sisters would be -chatting in their own rooms by this time. - -"Well, my dear," he said, gaily, "have you come to give your old father -some of your company? I suppose this is to make up for my absence." - -"Yes," she said, as gaily as she could. "You have been away so long, -and I do see very little of you, papa. I want to see as much of you as -possible." - -"Until you leave me for Heron," he said, patting her hand. "Seriously, -my dear, I hope you will marry him. He is a good fellow, and will make -the best of husbands for my Ruth." - -"He wants me to be his wife," Ruth said, gloomily enough. "I have not -decided yet; I may or may not marry him. But you can set your mind at -rest about Neil Webster, papa. I would not marry him if there was not -another man in the world." - -Something in her voice struck Mr. Cass unpleasantly and he looked -sharply at her. "Why not?" he demanded. - -She returned his look boldly. "Because I know now why you did not wish -me to be his wife," she said. - -He lifted his eyebrows. "Woman's curiosity again," he said, harshly. -"What do you know?" - -"I know that his real name is Jenner, and that his mother----" - -"Stop!" cried her father, his face growing haggard before her eyes. -"Who told you this nonsense?" - -"It is not nonsense," she cried in despair. "Oh, why will you not trust -me? I know that it is true. Mrs. Jent told me." - -"Oh! Then that was why you went to Brighton?" - -"Yes. I was quite determined to find out why you forbade the marriage." - -"I see," he said, ironically. "Well, are you any the happier for this -discovery?" - -She hid her face with a cry. "Heaven knows I am the most unhappy girl -in the world!" she moaned. - -"Ah!" said her father, a word of meaning in his voice. "So you do love -the man after all?" - -"No; but--never mind. Tell me, papa, is it true?" - -"Yes. You know so much now that you may as well know more. Mrs. Jenner -murdered her husband and has suffered imprisonment all these years." - -"She did not murder him!" cried Ruth. - -Mr. Cass, who was swinging the poker in his hands, dropped it with -a crash. "Ah! and how do you know that she did not?" he asked in a -stifled voice. - -"Because Geoffrey says----" - -"Heron!" He rose to his feet. "What has he to do with all this?" - -"He is a friend of Neil's, and----" - -"A friend of Neil's?" Mr. Cass said, incredulously. "How can that -be? They never even got on well together; they were rivals. I do not -believe it." - -"Will you believe me when I tell you that Geoffrey is nursing Neil at -Bognor in Mrs. Jent's house? He is, then. And Geoffrey wrote telling -you that he was abroad--and Neil, too--to keep you away from Bognor." - -Mr. Cass stood as though turned to stone, and the haggard look on his -face seemed to grow more marked. - -"There appears to be a lot of plotting going on behind my back," he -said, quietly. "My own daughter is plotting against me. Why did you not -tell me all this? No, never mind. You have told me so many lies that I -cannot believe you. Do not answer that question. But I must ask you to -tell me what this means?" - -"I have told no lies," cried Ruth, indignantly. "If you had been more -open with me, papa, I would never have set to work to find out this -affair. I will tell you all, just as it happened, and you can judge for -yourself if I have been wrong." - -"Nothing can excuse your silence," he said, bitterly. "You don't know -what harm may come of this meddling with what does not concern you. -Well, I will hear your story." - -He sat down again and looked at the fire, while Ruth related all that -had happened, and how Geoffrey and she had made up their minds to -discover the truth. Mr. Cass listened without a word. Only when she had -finished did he make an observation. - -"You have done wrong," he said, sternly. "You should have told me all -this at once. I am the best friend that Neil Webster has, and it was my -place to look after him, not Heron's." - -"But is Mrs. Jenner innocent?" Ruth asked, anxiously. - -"I cannot answer that question," he said, evasively, but he clenched -his fist. "At all events I will see Heron and Neil, and hear what -grounds they have for believing that she did not kill the unhappy man. -I can only hope, Ruth, that you will refrain from meddling in the -matter any more." - -"Oh, I have done with it, papa. I'm sorry if you think I have behaved -badly; but I thought I was acting for the best. You can depend upon my -doing nothing more. The matter is in Geoffrey's hands now." - -"And it will soon be in mine," her father said, coldly. "If Mrs. Jenner -is to be released I am the person to see to it." - -Ruth noticed that he did not say "If Mrs. Jenner is guiltless," and -her heart was like lead. She made up her mind to try the effect of the -link, and, rising as if to go, drew it from her pocket. - -"I will go to bed now," she said, quietly. "By the way, here is -something of yours," and she placed the piece of gold before him. "Yes, -it is mine," he said, glancing at it. "I gave it to Mildred for her -doll. How did it come into your possession?" - -She burst into teats. The strain was getting too much for her. "Oh, -papa, say it is not yours," she wept, stretching out her hands. - -"Ruth, you are hysterical," Mr. Cass said, with some severity; and the -girl noticed even then that he was a trifle nervous. "Why should I deny -that it is mine? I had a set of these links made many years ago when -I was foolish enough to wear such things. One pair I lost, the other -remained in my desk amongst a lot of rubbish, until one day I gave one -piece of it to Mildred. I had intended to have the other pair replaced, -but time went on, and somehow I never had it done. Why should you cry -about these things, and why do you shew me this link?" - -"Because I found one oval like this under the window of the Turnpike -House." - -Mr. Cass rose from his chair and looked at her with a frown. "Go on," -he said. - -"I have nothing more to say," she cried with a fresh burst of tears. "I -know now that the links did belong to you. How did you lose the one at -the Turnpike House? The blow--" - -"Was struck through the window, you would say," her father finished, -with a cold smile, "and that I struck it!" - -"No, no!" she cried. "I am sure you did not. Oh, I am sure you did not, -father. But ever since I have found these links I have been in terror -for you. What if the one I gave Geoffrey should be traced? Oh, I wished -I had kept it myself?" - -"It is too late to wish anything now," he said, bitterly, but very -quietly. "I must say you are a dutiful daughter. I suppose you really -mean to accuse me of having murdered Jenner?" - -"I do not--I do not. I am sure you never did. You can explain." - -"I explain nothing," he interrupted, sternly. "The links are mine. -Whether I dropped a portion of one at the Turnpike House or not does -not matter to you. I will see Heron and explain to him. All I ask of -you is to hold your tongue." - -"I will, I will," sobbed the girl. "But, oh, father, don't be hard on -me. I'm very sorry that I meddled at all." - -Mr. Cass looked at her in silence, and his stern face softened. "I know -you do not credit me with this crime," he said, "and I am glad you have -so much grace. But even to you I cannot explain. You must trust me." - -"I do. Whom should I trust but my own dear father?" - -"I wish you had thought of that before, and had not acted in this -underhand way. However, it is of no use talking now. The thing is done -and I must put it to rights as best I can. I will see Heron and Webster. -Put all these things out of your mind, child." - -"How can I until I know the truth?" she said, passionately. "I am sure -you are innocent, but I am certain, too, that it was not Mrs. Jenner -who committed the murder. For Neil's sake, for my own sake, I want the -horrible thing explained." - -"Whether it will be explained or not does not rest with you or with me, -my dear girl. I cannot say to you what I should wish to say. All I can -advise you is to hold your tongue. If you do not Heaven knows what will -happen!" - -"I will say nothing," she said, faintly, and staggered towards the -door. Her father had not insisted upon his innocence as she had -expected him to do; he had taken refuge in vague phrases which meant -nothing. Yet she could not believe--she thrust the thought away from -her. "I will go. I will say no more," she repeated. - -"Ruth," he cried as she opened the door, "one thing I must tell you. -You have either done great good or great harm. But, in either case, you -have brought sorrow to this house." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. -JENNIE BRAWN MAKES A DISCOVERY. - - -The next day Mr. Cass informed Ruth that Geoffrey Heron was coming to -spend a few days at Hollyoaks. He made no attempt to conceal his reason -for asking the young man. - -"It is necessary," he said, "that I should talk over this deplorable -matter with him. Anything further that has to be done in connection -with the possible release of Mrs. Jenner must be done through me. I am -her oldest friend; I am her son's best friend; and I have a right to -bring the matter to a creditable issue. Do you not agree with me?" He -looked at her keenly. - -"Yes, papa, I do," she replied, feeling more at ease in her mind now -that she saw he did not shirk the investigation. "I only wish I had -told I you before. But you must do me the justice to own that I never -expected to find you in any way connected with it." - -"The wonder is that you did not find me mixed up in it earlier," he -said. "I have had so much to do with Mrs. Jenner and her son that -I could hardly help being concerned in their trouble. But you need -not worry about me, child. I am quite able to protect myself and to -explain, when the time comes, how that broken link came to be lost." - -"If you will only do that----" - -"Ruth, is it possible that you believe your father guilty of this -crime?" - -"Oh, no, I do not; but----" - -He turned away. "Well, say no more about it," he said, in a softer -tone than was usual with him, for he saw that the girl was terribly -troubled. "There is, on the face of it, some ground for you to doubt -me. I do not for a moment deny that such is the case. But I hope to -right myself in your eyes. Still, you must give me time to consider the -matter." - -"You are not angry with me, then?" she asked, anxiously. "I am -displeased that you should have undertaken this investigation without -telling me your intention. But I can forgive you, for I know how -impulsive you are. Let us say no more about it. My task is to get at -the truth of this matter; and with Geoffrey's assistance I hope to -do so. All I ask is that you should be silent and leave things in my -hands. And never conceal anything from me again." - -"I will do all you say," replied his daughter, and kissed him. - -In due time Geoffrey arrived. He was in high spirits and brought the -best of news from Bognor. Neil was mending rapidly and would soon be on -his feet again. Since he had found a friend and brother in Geoffrey he -had become much less morbid, and was beginning to take quite a cheerful -view of life. If his mother could only be proved innocent and set at -liberty he would have little left to wish for. As for Ruth, his love -for her had by some strange mental process been obliterated during his -illness, and he rose from his sick-bed with nothing more than a strong -feeling of friendship for the girl who had so recently been all the -world to him. And, indeed, when Miss Cass came to hear of this she was -not over well pleased. But it was not long before she blamed herself -for her vanity, and reminded herself that this was quite the best thing -that could have happened to her former lover. - -After dinner Mr. Cass carried Geoffrey off to the library; he -particularly wanted to have a few words alone with him, he said. Heron -had not the least idea what the subject of their talk was to be, Mr. -Cass having merely invited him to spend a few days at Hollyoaks, saying -he had an important subject to discuss with him. And it had passed -through Geoffrey's mind that Ruth must have confided in her father -their tacit engagement. He was a good deal astonished, therefore, when -Mr. Cass abruptly informed him that the matter referred to was that of -the Jenner murder. - -"Why, Mr. Cass!" exclaimed the young man. "How do you know about that? -And what do you know?" - -"Ruth told me that you were interesting yourself in it," was the reply, -"and I know all that she could tell me. I was not very pleased to find -that she had been getting mixed up in the affair." - -"It was her own wish," Heron said. "I did not like it myself, and I -should have been the last person in the world to tell her anything -about it. But, after all, it was but the curiosity of a young girl. No -one can blame her." - -"No one can blame any woman for being curious," Mr. Cass said, drily. -"All the same, feminine curiosity can do a lot of mischief when it is -not properly directed--as in this instance. Will you please to tell -me, Heron, exactly how Ruth found it out?" - -Not knowing that Mr. Cass wished to compare his story with Ruth's, -Geoffrey willingly consented, and informed him of Ruth's visit to Mrs. -Jent, and how the outcome of it all, so far as he was concerned, had -been his discovery of the fact that Ruth was willing to marry him. "And -that is, after all, what I care most about," he said, with a happy look -in his eyes. - -"I am very glad of it," Mr. Cass said, soberly. "I always wanted her to -marry you; I think you will be able to control her. I was afraid at one -time that she would have run away with Webster." - -"I don't think that he would have run away with her," replied Geoffrey. -"He decided to give her up when he learnt the secret of his parentage. -Now he has got over his love, and is quite willing that she should -marry me. Poor Neil! He has had a bad time." - -"That could not have been prevented. I did my best to spare him the -knowledge of his mother's fate. She asked me to make her the promise, -and I did so. - -"Do you think she is guilty? - -"I really can't say," replied Mr. Cass with some hesitation. "When she -was arrested I implored her to defend herself if she could. But she -obstinately refused to open her mouth. She certainly never told me that -Neil had killed his father." - -"Do you believe he did?" - -"No, certainly not. I believe the child got up -from his bed in a dazed condition on suddenly waking out of the trance. -He came into the room and found his father lying dead with the knife on -the floor beside him. Naturally enough the child picked up the knife. -Then, no doubt, his reason became unsettled, added to which the cold to -which he was exposed that night when his mother fled, was altogether -too much for him, and he fell seriously ill." - -"He remembers nothing of all that," Heron said. "I asked him myself. He -remembers his childhood up to the time his mother put him to bed that -night, or rather, I should say, up to the time when he struck at his -father with the knife. His memory re-commences from the time of his -recovery from the illness which followed, but the interval is a blank. -Of course, he might have seen the assassin. But I am sure," continued -Heron, firmly, "that his mother is not the guilty person. She denies -having committed the murder, and says she was silent on Neil's account." - -"Does she suspect anyone?" asked Mr. Cass; and Heron noticed that he -did not give an opinion as to her guilt or innocence. - -"No, she cannot think who did it. I asked her about the links, or -rather about the part of one which Ruth found under the window. I -suppose, she told you of her discovery?" - -"Yes, she did. By the way, have you the link with you?" Heron took it -out of his pocket-book and laid it on the table. "It is a curious one," -he said. "The pattern is an odd one and not in very good taste." - -"Oh, I don't know," Mr. Cass said, with studied carelessness. "I have -seen the same kind of thing. They were in vogue some years ago. Each -oval has a different design on it--a ballet girl, a bottle, a horse, -and a pack of cards. They were known as the 'four vices.' What does -Mrs. Jenner say about this?" - -"She cannot think who can have worn them; she says she never saw such a -set before." - -Had Geoffrey Heron been an observant man he would have seen a distinct -expression of relief pass over the face of his host; but he remarked -nothing, and Mr. Cass went on. - -"It is possible the person who killed Jenner may have dropped it," he -said. "But I am afraid it is but a slight clue after all these years. -Besides, if Mrs. Jenner cannot guess the motive for the crime, I don't -see how we can." - -"She thinks the motive was fear of blackmail on the part of the -assassin," said Geoffrey. - -"Ah!" said the merchant, significantly. "I am not astonished. Jenner -was a clerk in my office, and as thorough a blackguard as ever walked. -He was exactly the man who would have blackmailed another if he could -have done so with safety. But what reason has Mrs. Jenner for thinking -this?" - -"Because her husband had boasted to her that in a red pocket-book which -he flourished in her face he had the materials for getting money. Now, -that pocket-book was not produced at the trial." - -"I see," said Mr. Cass, his chin on his hand. "You think the murderer -stabbed Jenner as he stood by the window, stole the pocket-book, and -had his link wrenched off in the struggle?" - -"That is the only way in which I can account for the crime." - -"It seems feasible enough," replied the merchant, musingly. "But I -do not see how I can help you to trace the man. After Jenner left my -office I saw very little of him. If Mrs. Jenner cannot tell whom it was -he intended to blackmail no one else can." - -"She does not know, Mr. Cass. Her husband gave her no hint. All he said -was that he could make money out of what he had in that pocket-book. -She held her tongue, as you know, for her son's sake; now she sees that -it was wrong. But she did it for the best. - -"I suppose she did," said Mr. Cass, giving the link back to Heron. "But -I wish she had spoken out when I asked her. I could not induce her to -be frank. She merely declared that she was prepared to suffer. Well," -Mr. Cass rose to his feet, "I don't think there is anything more to be -said, Heron." - -"But how are we to continue the search?" - -"Leave it in my hands for the moment. I will see Mrs. Jenner, and -between the two of us, seeing we knew Jenner better than anyone else, -we may find out who it was he intended to blackmail. If that should -fail, I really don't know what to suggest. - -"Well, I will wait till you have seen her," Geoffrey said, and went off -to bed. - -He rose early, and was out walking up and down the terrace before -breakfast. Ruth was not down, but he could see Jennie Brawn playing -with little George Chisel and Ethel. Mildred was not visible, but in a -few minutes he found her seated in a disconsolate attitude on the steps. - -"What is the matter?" he asked, for he was fond of children. - -"It's Aunt Ruth," said the child, tearfully. "She won't give me back my -doll's brooch." - -"Oh, I'll ask her to give it back. What is it like?" He asked the -question carelessly, little dreaming of what the answer would be, nor -guessing the consequences which would ensue. - -"It's a gold brooch, with a horse on it, a dear little horse." - -Even then it did not enter his mind that the brooch referred to had any -connection with the links of which he had spoken to his host the night, -before. - -"How big was it?" he asked. "If Aunt Ruth won't give it back I'll try -and get you one like it." - -"Oh, I think grandfather will give me another," Mildred said, hopefully. -"He gave me this. It is this size," she drew a small oval in the dust -with her finger, "and that shape, with a horse on it in pretty colours, -and a little thing on the back to put a thread through so that my -doll can wear it. It is so pretty." Heron felt as if he had received -a blow. For was not the child describing, with the exception of the -design, the broken link he had in his pocket? And she had got it from -her grandfather! Without a word he took the link out of his pocket and -shewed it to the child. She pounced on it with a scream of delight. - -"Why, that's my brooch!" she cried. And then on a nearer view: "No, it -isn't. Here's a nasty bottle! Mine had a horse on it." - -The young man remembered the description given by Mr. Cass of the links -known as the "four vices," and he could no longer refuse to believe -that it was he who had given Mildred the link which matched the one now -in her hands. And that link had been found under the window of the very -room in which the crime had been committed! "Could it be possible---- -No! No!" cried Geoffrey, staggering back, his ruddy face pale. "It -cannot be!" - -"What is the matter, Mr. Heron? Are you ill?" asked the child, rising. - -"No, I am not ill, dear. But give me back my brooch." - -"I don't like it," she said, thrusting it into his hand. "A nasty -bottle! Mine with the horse was much nicer. I'll ask grandfather to -give me another. Now I'm going to play, Mr. Heron, do ask Aunt Ruth to -give me back my dear little brooch." - -The prattle of the child worried him terribly. "Yes, yes," he said, -impatiently; "but run away and play now, dear." And as Mildred -scampered off "Great Heavens!" he thought. "Can Cass have murdered the -man? Impossible! He could have had no motive." - -He was thankful to be alone, for he felt that in his present state of -mind he could speak to no one. Therefore, still thinking of the new -discovery he had made he felt annoyed to see Jennie Brawn leave the -children and come towards him. He would have escaped her by walking -off, but she called to him, and he had, perforce, to remain. She looked -anxious and worried. - -"Mr. Heron, I wish to speak to you particularly," she said. "I am so -glad to find you alone. You look ill." - -"I have had rather a shock, but really I am all right," he said, with -an attempt at a smile. "What is it, Miss Brawn?" - -"Well," she said, "it is a somewhat curious story. You know Ruth -brought back with her a toy horse which she put into a drawer in her -bedroom. She gave the children permission to open the drawer, and -there they found the horse, George took possession of it and hid it -away. Well, he produced the animal the other day; pulled it out of its -hiding-place and proceeded to cut it open-to see what was the matter -with it he said: I was in the room and watched him without paying much -attention. If I had had my wits about me I should have recognised -Ruth's horse and would not have allowed him to touch it. But, however, -he did so and pulled out all the stuffing. I saw that he was making -a mess on the carpet and went to stop him. Then I found among the -stuffing a paper with your name on it. I waited for an opportunity of -giving it to you, and here it is." And Jennie put into his hand a bill -of exchange, old, discoloured and crumpled. - -Hardly knowing what he was doing Heron glanced at the document and saw -that his father's signature--Geoffrey Heron--was written across the -bill, while the signature at the foot was that of Frank Marshall. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. -HERON FOLLOWS THE TRAIL. - - -Ruth could not rid herself of a haunting doubt that her father knew -more of the Jenner murder than he chose to confess. If he himself had -not killed the man in a fit of impetuous rage--and the girl could not -bring herself to think this--he knew who had struck the fatal blow. -Ruth was certain now that Mrs. Jenner was innocent, notwithstanding -the fact that she had been found guilty. This being so, she argued to -herself that if her father were aware of the truth he should at once -take steps to remedy the grave miscarriage of justice which had taken -place. But as he made no move, Ruth, perplexed and doubtful, became -quite ill with suspense. It was no wonder then that Geoffrey had found -her poor company, and had failed to understand her constant melancholy. -Under these circumstances he had taken his departure, wondering what -had befallen the house which had formerly been so bright and pleasant. -But no satisfaction was to be had either from Mr. Cass or from his -daughter. - -On arriving at his own place he went at once to the library to look -for some document with his father's signature in order to compare it -with that on the bill. And after a close inspection of some half-dozen -autographs of the late Mr. Heron, he came to the conclusion that the -signature to the bill was a forgery. Once convinced of this, he began -to see daylight, and argued out the case that evening, alone and -undisturbed. - -"Jenner was at one time a clerk in the firm of Cass and Marshall," -he thought; "therefore he must have known Marshall very well; he was -dismissed, and so had no cause to love his employers. Mr. Cass, so -far as I know, was always an upright man, and Jenner had no chance of -injuring him in any way. With Marshall the case was different. If I -remember rightly, Mrs. Jenner told me that her husband and Marshall -were as thick as thieves; the master patronising the clerk on account -of the man's beautiful voice and musical accomplishments. Marshall, -too, lived a gay life, and was given to spending pretty freely. It is -quite possible that he might have made use of Jenner as a tool to get -more money through this bill! Five hundred pounds," said Geoffrey, -looking at the document in question. "Humph! Just the sum he might -require for an emergency." He turned over the bill, and found it -endorsed by Julius Roper. "Ah!" he went on, "where have I heard that -name? Roper--Roper--I am sure someone spoke of Roper." - -Suddenly it flashed into his mind that Roper was the moneylender in -whose employment Jenner had been after he had failed on the stage. - -"The bill was discounted in the office in which Jenner was employed," -he thought, with growing excitement, for the matter was becoming more -interesting every minute, "and Jenner, knowing it was forged, stole -it from Roper. He meant to use it as a means of extorting blackmail! -Ah!" He stopped short. "Blackmail? It was of that he boasted to his -wife--this, then, was the material for getting money that he said he -had in the red pocket-book. The pocket-book has disappeared; but the -bill?--Humph! How did it get inside the horse? Could Jenner himself -have put it there? If so, why? What was his reason? I must see Mrs. -Jenner and ask her. Between the two of us we may get at the truth." - -But although he was satisfied that his father's signature had been -forged, he could not be absolutely certain that Marshall had been the -forger. He had drawn the bill, it was true, but Jenner might have -counterfeited the signature and have assisted Marshall to get the money. - -Then Geoffrey recollected that his father--a particularly precise -man--had been in the habit of keeping a diary in which he was -accustomed to set down the most trivial details of his somewhat -uninteresting life. No sooner had this thought struck him than he went -to a certain press and pulled out the series of little books which -contained these entries. Glancing at the date of the bill, he set to -work, and after an hour's search found the evidence. - -The late Mr. Heron had made no attempt to conceal Marshall's rascality; -for it was plainly set down that a certain Mr. Roper had called upon -him to shew a bill of exchange and to ask if the signature were his. -Mr. Heron had replied that he had never signed a bill in his life, -where upon Roper had intimated that the bill had been presented by -Frank Marshall, and that the money had been paid to him. Roper had also -expressed his intention of having Marshall arrested, but to this Mr. -Heron had objected. Bad as he thought the man, he wanted to avoid any -serious trouble, less for Marshall's own sake than for that of Miss -Inez Cass, to whom he was engaged, and who was deeply in love with him. -Roper had left the house with the avowed intention of making things hot -for him, so Mr. Heron had called on Marshall at his house near Hollyoak -and told him what had happened. Then Marshall had confessed that, being -in want of money, he had forged Mr. Heron's name. But he stated that he -was going to pay the money back to Roper very shortly, and he implored -Mr. Heron to take no steps against him; it would break Miss Cass's -heart, he said, and Mr. Heron, pitying Inez, and having a great respect -for her brother, had promised to say no more about it, and had agreed -to refrain from assisting Roper on condition that the five hundred -pounds were repaid. This--as a later entry in the diary-proved--had -been done. After that there was no further mention of the matter. - -"Well," Geoffrey said to himself, as he put away the books, "all -this is quite plain. It seems that Mr. Frank Marshall is a pretty -scoundrel! Oh, there is no doubt that this bill is the blackmailing -document referred to by Jenner. Now, I wonder if Marshall murdered him -to get possession of it; but if he did the bill would not have been -concealed in the toy horse. Ah! no doubt Marshall thought it was in the -red pocket-book, and stole that after he had killed him; that was why -the pocket-book disappeared. Probably Marshall himself destroyed it. -Humph! I have gone so far with very good results; now, before I can -proceed further, I must see Mrs. Jenner and Roper. I wonder if that -scoundrel is still alive?" - -Next day Geoffrey paid a visit to the gaol where Mrs. Jenner was -serving her life sentence. After some difficulty he was permitted to -see the prisoner; indeed, he might not have procured the interview at -all had he not told the governor that he saw a good chance of proving -the woman innocent. The governor was a humane man, and, anxious that -justice should be done, he stretched a point and allowed Heron to see -her with as much privacy as was compatible with prison discipline. - -As soon as they were alone. Heron related all that he had discovered, -and then proceeded to ask his questions. Mrs. Jenner, poor woman, -became much excited, and small wonder, seeing, that for the first time, -she saw a chance of regaining her freedom. - -"But, after all, it will be to die, Mr. Heron," she said, sadly. "I am -very ill; trouble, exposure and mental worry have been too much for -me. The doctor saw me two days ago, and has ordered my removal to the -Infirmary." Geoffrey looked at her, and, true enough, there was death -in her face. A few weeks were all of life left to her now. And yet on -hearing Geoffrey's news, the bold spirit flamed up again in her for the -last time. - -"I am sure you are right, Mr. Heron!" she said, feverishly. "Mr. -Marshall is the guilty person. He was always a scamp and a rake. There -is no doubt that it was for the purpose of blackmailing him that my -husband came down to Westham on the night he was murdered; in fact, he -said as much to me at the Turnpike House. Do you know that he had met -Marshall on that very night?" - -"No; you did not tell me that." - -"I forgot; besides, I really did not think it mattered. I did not -expect that Mr. Marshall would be brought into the affair. He was -always cunning enough to look after himself. At that time he was -engaged to marry Miss Cass, and she loved him with the fierceness of a -tigress." - -"Do you mean the present Mrs. Marshal?" - -"Who else should I mean? She always loved him. He had a strange -fascination for women: why, I don't know, for he was not particularly -good-looking or attractive. But Miss Inez loved him, and it was within -two months of the murder that they were married. I was in prison then, -as I am now, and under sentence of death." - -"Then you think that Marshall killed your husband?" - -"I do," she said, with a look of hatred in her large blue eyes. "I feel -certain of it. Look at the motive he had! He was engaged to marry Miss -Inez Cass: she was rich and he needed money; then again there was some -talk of his leaving the firm. I believe myself that Mr. Cass was quite -tired of the way he was going on." - -"I wonder that Mr. Cass--knowing him as he did--did not forbid the -marriage." - -"What would have been the use? His sister was her own mistress; she -had her own money--a large fortune--and she was madly in love with -Marshall. She would have done anything for him; she simply grovelled at -his feet. Her infatuation was the talk of all Westham at the time I was -starving at the Turnpike House.' - -"Extraordinary!" mused Geoffrey. "She is so masterful a woman that I -wonder she could have fallen in love with so weak a man." - -"It is one of those things in which a woman's nature is stronger than -her principles," said Mrs. Jenner. "Besides, he was fascinating, and -she was no longer a young woman," she added, with a touch of feminine -spite. "At any rate, she was delighted when he fell in love with her, -and determined not to let him go." - -"Was he in love with her?" - -"No: perhaps I was wrong to put it that way. No doubt he wanted her -money. Did he leave the firm?" - -"Yes; shortly after his marriage." - -"Ah! Then depend upon it, Mr. Cass got rid of him. He married Miss -Cass for her money--he must have been in great straits when he -committed that forgery. Oh, I quite believe it was he who did it: -he was wonderfully clever at imitating handwriting. I knew of that -accomplishment long before I was married." - -"How you hate him!" Geoffrey could not help exclaiming. - -"I am a very good hater," she said, quietly; "and I have every reason -to hate that man. It was he who got my husband dismissed, and it was -certainly he who led him into dissipated ways; for Jenner was not a -bad man during the early years of our married life. It was only when -he came under Marshall's influence that he took to drink and began to -treat me cruelly. Oh, I know what I owe him only too well! I should -like to see him arrested for this murder, and hanged--hanged!" - -She spoke with such vehemence that Heron shivered. "I hope he will be -proved innocent for all that," he said. "Remember I am engaged to his -niece." - -"Miss Ruth is not his niece save by marriage." - -"Still, the disgrace----" - -"Well, leave the matter alone," said Mrs. Jenner, abruptly. "I have -suffered so much that a little, more or less, does not matter. When I I -am gone, there will be an end of all your trouble. Let Marshall live to -repent, if he can. I am willing to die with the disgrace on me; I can't -well be worse off than I am. And my son will soon forget me----" - -"You do him wrong, Mrs. Jenner; he loves you dearly. But, let this -be as it may, what I have to do is to get at the truth of it all. If -Marshall will confess his guilt, I will consult with Mr. Cass and see -what is to be done. I confess, that on Ruth's account, I do not want a -scandal." - -"Would you desert her?" - -"No, for I love her. And I am too just, I hope, to visit the sins of -other people upon her innocent head." - -Mrs. Jenner seemed to be considering; then, "Mr. Heron," she said at -last, "you are a good man. Leave the matter where it stands, and let me -die a guilty woman in the eyes of the world. If I were in good health, -I might speak differently but I am dying. Let me die. I have suffered -so much, that now I could not even enjoy freedom. There is no rest for -me but in the grave. Believe me, it is better to leave things as they -are." - -"Well, we'll see about that. But tell me, how did the bill get inside -the toy horse?" - -"Ah, that is difficult to explain! The horse belonged to my boy; he was -playing with it before the fire on that evening. I left it there when -I took the child to bed. It is likely enough," she went on, musingly, -"that my husband, knowing he had driven Marshall into a corner, was -afraid he might lose this bill. He may have sewn it up inside the horse -when I was out of the room. He knew very well that I kept all my boy's -toys, and he thought it would be safe there. No one would ever have -dreamt of looking for it in such a hiding-place. It is really most -wonderful, when one comes to think of it, that it has come to light at -all." - -"Can you tell me where Jenner met Marshall on that night?" - -"No, I cannot. All I know is what he told me--that he had seen him two -hours before he came to see me. He boasted of his blackmailing. That is -all I can tell you." - -Geoffrey rose. "Well, you have given me some information, if not very -much," he said. "Now I will go and see Roper to make certain how the -bill came to be stolen." - -"My husband stole it when he was with Roper," said Mrs. Jenner. And -with this last piece of information Geoffrey departed to follow up the -clue. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. -THE MONEY-LENDER. - - -Mr. Julian Roper had an establishment in Golden-square, Soho. Although -this gentleman was over eighty, he had not yet repented of his many -iniquities, but callously continued to conduct his evil transactions. -His offices--two dingy rooms--were on the ground floor of the house; -the apartments overhead being occupied by himself and a crabbed old -woman who acted as his housekeeper. The hag was, if possible, worse -than her master; and from long years of association, she possessed -considerable influence over him; she was a widow--or at least it was -as such that she described herself--for her husband had left her many -years before in sheer disgust at her tyranny. Mrs. Hutt was her name; -and she had a son who acted as clerk to Julian. - -When Geoffrey Heron arrived at this sordid temple of Mammon, he was -received by the drudge--a young-old person of no particular age, -dressed in a suit of rusty black. He informed the visitor that his -master was absent. - -The clerk, who answered to the name of Jerry Hutt, gave Mr. Heron a -broken-backed chair, and returned to his desk, which was smuggled -away into a corner. With a shrug at the poverty of the place and the -apparently enfeebled intellect of the person in charge, the young man -took a seat and amused himself by taking stock of his surroundings. - -Jerry took not the slightest notice of Geoffrey after the first -greeting; he wrote hard with his tongue thrust into his cheek, giving -vent at times to a faint chuckle which was positively uncanny. Coming -to the conclusion that he was half-witted, Heron came to regard him in -the light in which most people saw him--more as an article of furniture -than a man. But in this he, in common with the rest of the visitors to -that den, was wrong. For underneath his assumed stupidity Jerry was as -sharp as the proverbial needle. - -Luckily Heron had not long to wait. In about a quarter of an hour -Jerry raised his big head and looked out of the window; a shuffling -step was heard at the door; and a minute later someone came coughing -and grumbling along the narrow passage. "Mr. Roper," chuckled Jerry, -pointing towards the inner room. "Go in there." - -Geoffrey, taking no notice of his brusque manner, passed into the back -room; it was better lighted and better furnished than the clerk's den. -Still, it was sordid enough, and so dirty that the young squire found -it necessary to dust with his handkerchief the seat he had chosen. -"Cleanliness and godliness are both absent from this establishment," -thought Mr. Heron. - -He could hear Roper outside growling at Jerry, but could catch nothing -of their conversation. He guessed that it had to do with himself, for -shortly Mr. Roper entered the back room with what was meant to be an -amiable smile on his mahogany face. In appearance he was the double of -his clerk, as thin, as yellow, and even smaller in stature. - -"Ha! Hey!" he said; this being the way in which he was accustomed to -begin a conversation. "Mr. Heron--ah, yes--Mr. Geoffrey Heron--quite -so! I knew your father. A good man, Mr. Heron, but strong in his -expressions." - -Geoffrey took this to mean--and very rightly too--that his father -had expressed himself in no measured terms as to the moneylender's -professional transactions. But he made no comment, merely remarking -that he had come to see Mr. Roper on business. - -"Ha! Hey!" chuckled the old man, shuffling towards his desk with the -aid of a heavy stick. "Quite so. Not like your father! Oh, dear, no! He -never borrowed money." - -"I am not here for that purpose," retorted Mr. Heron, haughtily, and -the old man, panting for breath, dropped into his chair. "And I can -assure you that you are the last person to whom I should come in such -circumstances. My business is quite of a different nature." - -"Ha! Then why do you come here, Mr. Heron? I have much to do; I am -poor, and money is hard to make. If your business has nothing to do -with money, why come at all?" - -"Because you are the only person who can assist me?" - -"I do nothing for nothing," croaked Mr. Roper, quickly. "If you want -anything out of me, you must pay me--pay me--cash down, you understand! -I have had enough of bills." - -"Mr. Frank Marshall's bill for five hundred included?" asked Geoffrey. - -The man started and plucked at his nether lip. "Ha! Hey! What do you -know about Mr. Marshall, sir?" - -"Not so much as you can tell me," said Heron, significantly. - -"Marshall--Marshall," muttered Roper. "I don't know him--never heard of -him." - -Geoffrey took a new tack and prepared to go. "In that case, I need not -trouble you. My business has to do with Marshall and a forgery." - -"Wait. Come now, don't hurry!" screeched the old man, clawing at -Heron's frock-coat. "I do begin to remember something of this. I am -old--I can't remember as well as I did. Marshall--Frank Marshall--Cass -and Marshall. Yes, yes, of course I know! A forgery--your father--quite -so!" He stopped and looked up sharply. "Well, what is it?" he asked. - -Geoffrey sat down again. He was beginning to see his way to the -successful management of this old gentleman. "It is a long story," he -said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the avaricious face of the -usurer. "Let me begin at the beginning. What about a man called Jenner?" - -Roper gave another screech, and was visibly startled. He cast a swift -glance at the door behind which, no doubt, the useful Jerry was -eavesdropping. "Jenner," he said, recovering himself with an effort, -"was a clerk of mine, and a blackguard." - -"The one implies the other," Heron said, drily, "if all I have heard of -you is true." - -"Now, sir, don't you come libelling me," whimpered the usurer, still -disturbed. "I won't have it. I will bring an action for damages--heavy -damages." - -"Do, Mr. Roper. I should like to see you shewn up in court. How many of -your transactions will bear the scrutiny of the law?" - -"I have never broken the law," he roared, with an attempt at dignity -which ill became him. "I am a poor man, but honest. Jenner? Oh, yes he -was murdered, and he deserved to be murdered--the beast!" - -"Who did it?" asked Geoffrey, abruptly. - -For the second time Mr. Roper was visibly disconcerted. "How should I -know any more than yourself?" he quavered. "His wife murdered him, of -course; he treated her badly, and she served him out. Women always do." - -"Come, Mr. Roper, you are evading my questions. But I have no time to -play the fool. I have come to talk to you about that forged bill." - -"Have you got it--have you got it?" he shrieked, making a dart with one -claw at Geoffrey. "Oh, give it to me, if you can! I want to see that -Marshall in gaol--with hard labour--hard labour!" he repeated, with -evident relish. "My dear gentleman, if you can, help me to crush him!" - -"Why?" asked the young man, drawing back. - -"Because I hate him. I had a daughter; she loved him; but he would not -marry her--oh, dear, no! Her father's reputation was too bad for so -fine a gentleman. So she died--pined away. Mr. Heron, as I am a sinner! -Oh how Jerry felt it! He admired Elsa, he loved her--so did Marshall." -His eyes flashed. "But he would not marry her, for all that. She is -dead and buried now--a most expensive tomb!" he added, vaguely. "All -marble--most costly. But she was my daughter: I hate to spend good -money; but Elsa was my daughter--a most expensive tomb!" - -His listener took all this for the senile babble of age. Perhaps it -was, for tears stood in the usurer's eyes--those hard eyes which had -remained dry whilst looking upon much deliberately-created misery. He -wiped them now with snuffy red bandana, and then looked fiercely at his -client. - -"Come," he said, roughly, with a growl as of a beast about to spring. -"What about Marshall!" - -Geoffrey said nothing for the moment, but stared fixedly at the -moneylender. - -"Ha! Hey!" said Roper, impatiently, and there was a yellow gleam in -his eyes. "I am waiting. What about Marshall?" - -"I would rather ask you what about Jenner?" - -"I do nothing for nothing, as I have told you," was the reply. "If -you could assist me to punish that wretch, I might perhaps help you; -otherwise----" - -"Well, I may be able to help you in that!" - -"Oh, oh!" said the old man. "And what grudge have you against Marshall?" - -"I have none but I have a very good reason for acting as I am doing." - -"What is your reason?" - -"That I refuse to tell you. Speak freely to me, or leave the matter -alone, my good man. I can do without your assistance." - -"No, no!" cried the usurer, with frightful energy. "If Marshall is to -get into trouble, I am the man to assist. He broke my Elsa's heart; I -wish to be revenged. What is it you want to know?" - -"Tell me about Jenner," Heron said, curtly. He saw that the old man, -moved by the recollection of Marshall's behaviour to his daughter, was -in the mood to be confidential. He would get all he could out of him -before the wind changed. - -Roper commenced speaking in a hurry as though in fear that his -resolution would fail him. "Jenner was a wretch--a scamp!" he said. "He -was in my employment before Jerry grew up to assist me. I took him off -the streets, and he repaid my kindness by robbing me." - -"Of the bill of exchange on which was the forgery of my father's name." - -"Oh, you know that!" he said with a glance of surprise. "Well, I -daresay. Your father--worthy man--would no doubt tell you. Yes, Jenner -took the bill--just when I thought I had Marshall in the palm of my -hand. Ah, that was a blow! I would have given hundreds to have kept -that bill--to have lodged Marshall in gaol. But when that was gone, I -could do nothing. Have you the bill--do you know where it is? Give it -to me. I'll work the matter." - -"I have not the bill," said Geoffrey, deliberately. He saw that the -honour of the Cass family would be lost if entrusted to the hands of -this man. "The bill was stolen from Jenner's dead body," he added, with -studied equivocation. - -"By whom?" Roper asked, abruptly. "Do you not know?" - -"Certainly not," he said, with violence. "Are you about to accuse me of -the crime? Why, I do not even know of the place where he met his death. -You can prove nothing against me, sir, however cleverly you lay your -trap." - -"I am not laying any trap," Geoffrey said, mildly. "I want to know -something more about Jenner--as I have told you at least five times! He -was in your employment, you say?" - -"Yes, I took him off the streets! One day Marshall brought that bill; I -discounted it, and gave him five hundred pounds! Then I found out--how, -it does not matter--that your father's signature had been forged. I saw -your father----" - -"I know all about that interview. You saw my father and he refused to -prosecute, did he not?" - -"He did; but I would have prosecuted myself, and would have called your -father as a witness. Well, I came back after that visit, and placed the -bill in my safe then I told my housekeeper all about it: Jenner must -have listened. Shortly afterwards he disappeared; I made a search to -see if he had taken anything. Then I found that the bill had gone--that -Marshall had escaped me! I managed to set the police on Jenner's track, -and he was arrested. I offered not to prosecute if he would give me -back the bill: but he refused. Then I prosecuted him for stealing my -money, and he got three years. When he came out, I believe he went down -to the country to see his wife; and she murdered him. What became of -the bill, I never could discover. He must have destroyed it." - -"It is possible," said Heron. "I suppose that the bill was valuable to -Marshall as well as to you! No doubt he paid Jenner to destroy it." - -"Or else he murdered Jenner to obtain possession of it," the old man -said, gloomily. "But, no! Mrs. Jenner killed him I was at the trial; I -heard all the evidence nothing could have been clearer or fairer. She -killed her husband. Now. I wonder if she could have taken possession of -that bill! No, I don't think so; it would have been found on her when -she was arrested. I believe Marshall must have bribed Jenner to destroy -it; more's the pity. I'll never get at him now, the beast!" - -Geoffrey rose to go. "Well," he said, "I have learnt something; but I -hardly know if it will be of much assistance to me." - -"What are you going to do?" Roper asked. - -"Satisfy my conscience. Listen, Mr. Roper; in my father's diary I found -a full account of your visit and the truth about the forgery. I was -anxious to know all--therefore, I came to you. Now I am satisfied. So -far as I am concerned, the matter shall rest where it is." - -"Then you won't help me to crush Marshall? Will nothing deliver him -into my hands?" he muttered. "I'll make a last effort; he must be -punished for Elsa's sake." - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. -JOB BECOMES CIVILISED. - - -Again and again did Miss Cass wish that she could tell Jennie Brawn the -story of the broken link and her position with regard to her father. -But she had given her promise, and was forced to hold her tongue. On -her part Jennie, always open and honest, felt a trifle embarrassed -at the secret understanding with Geoffrey Heron regarding the bill -of exchange, it seemed to her too delicate perception to be wrong; -for was not the young man her friend's lover? But, like Ruth herself, -Jennie had given a promise which could not be broken, and she, too, -had to hold her peace. Under these circumstances, both girls were less -open with each other than usual, and on this account did not seek one -another, as was formerly the case. Jennie made her teaching serve as an -excuse; and Ruth took to wandering about the country in the society of -her own sad thoughts. - -She had promised her father to refrain from further meddling with the -Jenner case; but she did not think that this bound her to abstain from -visiting the Turnpike House; and she was always finding herself in the -neighbourhood of that ill-omened building. It held the secret of a -crime. - -Several times Ruth had noticed smoke rising from its chimney; she -began to think, from the recurrence of this phenomenon, that some -tramp had taken up his abode in the deserted building. Full of nervous -apprehension lest the said tramp should find something in the house -likely to connect her father with the crime, Ruth had, more than once, -made up her mind to see who it was that occupied the hovel. But on each -occasion her courage failed her at the last moment. But one day she -screwed up her courage, and set out to visit the Turnpike House. She -would [*** ***] if any other piece of evidence connected with the crime -had been discovered; and, if so, ascertain who was the finder. - -As she approached, she could see that although the house still looked -dilapidated and disreputable in its green jungle, some attempt had -been made to render it fit for human habitation. The windows had been -mended, the door repaired, and the roof patched in various places. Ruth -walked boldly up the path--now trodden down by the footsteps of the new -owner--and after a glance at the closed door, looked in at the window. -This was guiltless of blinds or curtain, and she could see quite -plainly what was going on inside. To her surprise, the first person she -saw was her aunt Inez seated by the fire and talking eagerly to Job, -who was astride a chair beside her. The gypsy turned his head rapidly -as the shadow of the girl, lengthened by the sun, fell across the -floor, and he uttered an exclamation of mingled surprise aid vexation. -Mrs. Marshall, looking up at that moment, beheld her niece--the very -last person she expected or, indeed, desired to see in that place. Her -dark face grew a trifle pale, her black eyes flashed, and she looked -downright savage at the intrusion. However, there was nothing left for -it now but to make the best of the situation, so before Ruth had time -to recover from her astonishment, Aunt Inez had passed quickly to the -window and had thrown it wide open. - -"Goodness, Ruth! Why do you come in that silent way to frighten people? -Come in--come in, and don't stand staring there like a fool!" - -Ruth struggled to recover from her surprise. - -"I am astonished to see you here, Aunt Inez," she said, when she had -found her tongue. "I did not know you were acquainted with Job." - -"He is a pensioner of mine," Mrs. Marshall said, composedly, preparing -to shut the window. "Are you coming in, Ruth? We can walk back together. -You know I do not approve of your roaming the country in this -uncivilised fashion." - -"It seems I am only following your example," Ruth said, pertly. - -"I am a married woman." - -"And Job's patroness," remarked Ruth, who was too much annoyed by her -aunt's manner to be careful. Mrs. Marshall flashed at her a look which -boded ill for the harmony of their future relations. - -"Yes; I am looking after the poor man. There is nothing wrong in that, -I hope?" - -"On the contrary," said her niece, and went towards the door. It was -opened by Job, who, during this interview, had been most discreetly -silent. He winked at the girl--not rudely, but to intimate that he -still looked upon her as a Romany sister--and ushered her into the room. - -Mrs. Marshall had resumed her seat by the fire, and pointed out the -other chair to her niece. Job leant up against the table, and regarded -the two with a twinkle in his dark eyes. Evidently he anticipated some -amusement. - -"Have you been here before, Ruth?" asked the elder lady, sharply. - -"Once; I was curious to see the place." - -"On account of the murder, I suppose?" replied Mrs. Marshall, with -contempt. "Really, Ruth, I do wonder that you should care to concern -yourself with such horrors! And why do you come here again?" - -"To see Job," was the quiet answer. - -"Me and the lady are pals," put in Job. "Oh, yes; she can patter the -black tongue, and she is a real Romany sister." - -"Perhaps, Ruth, you will explain," said Mrs. Marshall, both puzzled and -annoyed. - -"I think Job has already done so," Ruth said, coolly. "I met him here -by accident when last I came, and I talked Romany to him. He has taken -me as a sister of the gypsy folk. I am a female Borrow." - -"Ruth!" Aunt Inez threw up her hands in horror. "How dare you speak -like this? A low gypsy--a tramp--and you a young lady! And pray where -did you learn the gypsy language?" - -"At school, and out of it. I got a gypsy woman to teach me. But I do -not see why you should forbid me to associate with Job, aunt. You are -doing so yourself." - -"I!" exclaimed that lady, with something of defiance in her manner. -"But I have taken this poor man under my protection, and I intend to -make him comfortable." - -Ruth did not reply immediately. Then she looked up: - -"Last time I was here you watched me, Aunt Inez," she said, slowly. - -"Perhaps I did--perhaps I did not," replied that lady, coldly. She -scorned to tell a lie, and refused to own the truth. - -"Then you know what I found here--under the window?" - -Job looked up eagerly and exchanged a glance with Mrs. Marshall. But -that clever lady preserved an imperturbable countenance. "What you -found, my dear, is of no consequence to me," she said, impatiently, and -rose to her feet. - -"It is more to the purpose that we should be going. I will arrange -about your weekly money," she said, turning to Job. - -"Thank you, lady," said the gypsy, gratefully. "You are a real good -sort. I won't trouble you long, though. I'm booked before the year is -out." - -Ruth lingered, for she wanted to speak to the man alone; but her aunt -hurried her away, and the last glimpse she had of him was standing in -the doorway laughing in anything but a respectful manner. - -One would have thought that Miss Cass had burnt her fingers quite -severely enough to avoid playing with fire. But such was not the case. -Her curiosity was stronger than her prudence.. Besides, after the smile -she had seen on Job's face she began to doubt her aunt's plausible -explanation. Unfortunately, Mrs. Marshall escorted her niece right up -to the gates of Hollyoaks Park. But she refused to go in. - -"I have left my carriage at the inn," she said, "and, as your uncle is -not very well, I must go home at once. I hope you will come and see us -soon, Ruth; you are neglecting me very much." - -"I will come with pleasure, aunt. Will next week do?" - -"Any week will do. I am always at home--except on an occasion like -this, when I am employed in charitable works. I shall expect you next -week." - -When her aunt had gone, Ruth waited until she was out of sight; then -took a short cut across the meadows to the Turnpike House. Within the -hour she again presented herself at the door. It was opened so suddenly -that she felt sure that Job had been watching her; and his greeting -proved that such was the case. - -"I expected you, sister," he said. "Come into my tent. Duvel! That a -Romany should dwell under a roof-tree like a Gorgio." - -"It is better for your health than wandering about the roads," said the -girl, sitting down. - -"I am dying," interrupted Job, quietly. "And I am not the man to decay -like a tree. If I find that I can never recover, I will die after my -own fashion. I am not afraid." - -Ruth did not know what reply to make to this: she glanced round hoping -to find a fresh topic of conversation. "You are comfortable here; quite -civilised. I am sure that you will get better now that you are so well -housed!" - -"I do not think so, lady. But I yielded to Mrs. Marshall's request to -take shelter here. One place is as good as another to die in; she is -good to me; I have this house--and a little money to buy food." - -"Why is she so kind?" asked Ruth, sharply. "Such kindness is not in her -nature. Have you done her a good turn?" - -"Perhaps I have; maybe I have not," Job said, coolly. "See here, sister, -I knew you would come back to ask questions. I saw it in your eye; but -I know when to keep my mouth shut." - -"You do--when it pays you. Well, I have no wish to pry into your -secrets, Job. Keep your own counsel." - -"I intend to," replied the man. "And it is a good thing for your family -that I do." - -"What do you mean?" - -"Nothing that I can tell you." - -"Job"--Ruth looked at him sharply--"are you hinting at any disgrace?" - -"No: what disgrace could befall so noble a family? I hold my tongue." - -"Because you are paid for it," retorted Ruth. Already her wits were -at work trying to search out the reason for all this: she scented a -mystery and began vaguely to connect it with the Jenner case. Half -in jest, half in earnest, she asked a leading question. "Do you know -anything of this murder?" - -"No. Duvel! I should think not. It was before my time." - -"Yet I wonder you are not afraid to sleep in this room. It was here that -the body was found." - -Job laughed, and stared at the stains on the floor near the window. -"Yes; it was here," he said. "But I know nothing." - -"You know what I found last time I came to this place?" she said, -recalling the glance exchanged between her aunt and the gypsy. - -"Perhaps," replied Job; then he began to laugh. "Oh, you are a rare -one, lady, you are!" he said. "You would rob me of my new tent by -asking me to speak about what does not concern you." - -"Ah! Then you have something to conceal?" - -"Perhaps," said Job again. "But you may as well stop, sister. I hold my -peace until I die." - -Ruth looked at him fixedly. By this time she felt quite sure that -the secret which procured for Job food, and fire, and roof-tree, was -connected with the murder. - -"What you know has nothing to do with Mr. Cass--with my father?" she -asked in a low voice. - -"No, no; on my soul it has not," he said, earnestly. "Why do you think -so, sister?" - -"Has it anything to do with the murder?" - -"I cannot tell you." - -"You need not, for I can see the truth in your face. Tell me this, do -you know what I found under that window?" - -He looked at her. "Yes, I know," he said, softly, and refused to speak -another word. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. -WHAT MR. CASS HAD TO SAY. - - -Mr. Cass arrived home in a more cheerful frame of mind. His business, -whatever it was, had evidently prospered, and the look of anxiety which -his face had worn had given place to his usual imperturbable smile. He -was relieved, too, to hear that Amy had gone. Altogether, when, the -dinner hour arrived, Ruth found that he was as pleased as ever to be -alone with her. - -"By the way, my dear," he said, after the dessert was placed on the -table and they had had some desultory chat, "we are about to have a -visitor." - -"Geoffrey?" asked Ruth, eagerly. She was longing to see her lover again. - -"No; Neil Webster. I have been to Bognor to see him. He is much better, -poor fellow, though still far from well. However, he is coming down -here, where he will be surrounded with more comfort than Mrs. Jent can -provide. Before long I hope he will be quite restored to health." - -"I am glad he is coming, papa." She hesitated, and then continued in a -low voice: "Are you going to assist him?" - -"I thought we had agreed to close that discussion, Ruth?" said her -father with some coldness. "Assist him? What can I do? I have told him -that I will endeavour to prove his mother's innocence, but I have not -much hope of success. Whatever you may say, Ruth, I believe the woman -is guilty." - -"I think she is innocent," cried the girl, throwing back her head with -a look of defiance. - -"I know you do. Well, if her innocence can be proved so much the -better. At present Neil has promised not to worry more than he can -help. I want to see him on his feet again, therefore he must have -cheerful company to distract his mind." - -"Is that why you asked him down here?" asked Ruth, ironically. "I am -afraid his spirits will not rise in this house. Amy left it because she -found the dulness intolerable." - -"Amy is a frivolous butterfly, my dear. I hope you have more sense. You -must do your best to amuse Neil, and above all you must say nothing to -him about this case. It is becoming a sort of monomania with him, and -his thoughts must be kept off it." - -"In that case I shall get Jennie to amuse him," replied Ruth "for I -find it difficult not to become a monomaniac on the subject myself. -Besides, I want her to marry him." - -Mr. Cass stroked his chin and did not appear to look unfavourably on -this proposal. "Neil might do worse," he said, after a pause. "Jennie -is a good little creature and will make him a very adaptable wife. You -would never have suited yourself to the boy. Geoffrey Heron is more in -your way, Ruth. He will be at once your husband and your master." - -"So long as he is not a domestic tyrant I do not care. I am very, very -fond of Geoffrey, now that I have got over my foolish feeling for Neil. -I do wish Geoffrey would come to see me oftener." - -At that moment, as if in answer to her words, a servant appeared with -a card, which he presented to his master. "Queer!" exclaimed Mr. Cass, -glancing at it through his eye-glass. "Here is the very man you want." - -"Geoffrey!" she cried, joyfully. - -"Yes; I wonder why he did not send me notice of his coming. He wants -to see me on business. Business!" he repeated, with a frown. "Humph! I -hope he has found no new mare's nest with your assistance." - -"I have meddled no more with the case, papa, if that is what you mean," -said Miss Cass. "But where is he?" - -"In the library. I will see him first. You can talk to him afterwards." - -"Ask him to stay, papa," said Ruth, following her father to the door of -the dining-room. - -"Of course he can stay if he likes," Mr. Cass said, looking at his -daughter as if he were about to make some remark. However, he thought -better of it and hurried out. Ruth guessed that it had been in his -mind to say something about the unhappy affair in which they were -all interested. She was irritated at not being admitted into his -confidence, for her nerves were worn thin with the constant strain. -However, he had been quite determined to see Geoffrey alone; and all -she could do was to possess herself in patience until such time as the -conversation should have ended. - -Meanwhile the two men were sitting opposite one another in Mr. Cass's -room. Geoffrey refused to have any dinner; he had dined before leaving -home, he said, but he did not decline a cigar and glass of good port. -Mr. Cass was at once convinced, from the expression of tragic gravity -on the young man's face, that he had something serious to say, and he -concluded that it had to do with the Jenner case. But he was not going -to commit himself by introducing the subject lest he might appear too -eager. He talked lightly on desultory matters and waited for Heron to -begin. - -"Mr. Cass," he said, at last, "I have come to renew our former -conversation." - -"Oh, the Jenner murder, I suppose?" Mr. Cass said, lightly. "I thought -as much; but I did not know that you intended to pursue the matter." - -"Nor did I of my own free will," replied Geoffrey, coolly; "but -circumstances have thrust upon me fresh discoveries, and I want your -assistance." - -Mr. Cass looked up sharply, and replied with studied carelessness: "Of -course I will do my best to help you, my dear fellow; but really I do -not see how I can." - -"You will soon see when I have told you of my discovery," was the grim -answer. "About those links, you know----" - -The merchant started and changed colour. "Ah!" he said. "Ruth told you?" - -"Some time ago; but what she did not tell me, and what you did not -reveal, Mr. Cass, was that you were the owner of those links." - -"How can you be certain on that point?" asked Mr. Cass, calmly. "What -have you found out to make you think that they--at any rate the broken -one Ruth got under the window of the Turnpike House--have anything to -do with me? - -"I will tell you," he said, leaning forward and looking very directly -at his host. "You gave a portion of one of those links to your -granddaughter Mildred for her doll. I found the child crying because -Ruth had taken what she called a 'brooch' from her. At first I did not -connect it with the one Ruth had found, but when she described it I -guessed that it was part of the set; to make certain I shewed her the -one her aunt had picked up, and she recognised it at once as the double -of her brooch, with the difference in the design, of course. You did -not tell me of this, Mr. Cass. - -"Why should I have told you?" Mr. Cass's tone was slightly defiant. "I -did give such a link to Mildred, and it was one of a set." - -"Have you the set?" asked Heron. "Forgive my asking you, but I have a -good reason for doing so." - -"I know what your reason is," replied the merchant, raising his voice; -"but you are wrong; I did not drop that link at the Turnpike House--I -did not murder Jenner!" - -"Nothing was further from my mind," protested the young man. "You jump -to conclusions; my meaning was quite different." - -The expression on Mr. Cass's face was one half of relief, half of -uneasiness. - -"What do you mean, then?" he demanded. "I have a right to know." - -"You shall know. It was in order to tell you that I came over this -evening. But first, have you the remaining links?" - -Mr. Cass crossed the room to an old-fashioned desk which stood in a -corner, and began to search. In five minutes he returned to his seat by -the fire, bringing with him an oval enamelled with a pack of cards. - -"That is all I have," he said. "Mildred has the one with the horse on -it; you have the other with the champagne bottle." - -"And the ballet girl? Where is that one?" Mr. Cass was silent and -shifted uneasily in his chair. "That I cannot tell you until I know -more clearly what you have discovered." - -"You shall know all. It may save a certain person from a relentless -enemy. Yes; you may look, Mr. Cass! I tell you there is one man who -hates another with all the intensity of his soul, and will only too -willingly do him an injury." - -Mr. Cass began to grow angry at this mysterious description. "One -man--another man?" he repeated. "What do you mean? Who is the enemy?" - -"Julian Roper." - -"And who is he?" Heron looked at him in astonishment. If faces were to -be read, his host knew nothing of this man. "I am surprised that you do -not know who Roper is," he said, slowly. - -"Why should I? I never even heard his name, that I can recollect. If he -has any grudge against me, I cannot understand the reason, seeing, as I -have said, that he is unknown to me." - -"I did not say that he had a grudge against you." - -"No, but you hinted as much. After all, I suppose I am the man who is -so well hated. At least, I can take your speech in no other way." - -"I don't mean you at all. I allude to Marshall--your brother-in-law." - -"Marshall!" Mr. Cass sprang to his feet and his face turned positively -grey; this time Geoffrey had no reason to complain of indifference: it -was plain that his host feared the revelation about to be made against -his sister's husband. "I don't quite understand," he said. "What has -Marshall----" - -"I think you understand very well, Mr. Cass; and I can only wish that -during our last conversation you had spoken out. If you want the truth -in plain words, I say that Frank Marshall murdered Jenner at the -Turnpike House to recover a bill of exchange on which he had forged my -father's name." - -"Stop! Stop!" cried Mr. Cass, dropping back into his seat. "What--what -grounds have you--such an accusation----" - -"Is it not true?" - -"Upon my word of honour, I cannot say." - -"I think you can, Mr. Cass. You know that Mrs. Jenner is innocent and -that Marshall is guilty." - -The merchant became vehement. "I cannot say that!" he cried, dashing -his fist on the table. "Because I don't know. I did suspect Marshall -myself--on certain grounds; but I knew nothing of this bill--I could -not fathom his motive. I was doubtful, and so I came to the conclusion -that Mrs. Jenner was the guilty person. I would have told you all this -before, Heron, but the honour of my family----" - -"I hope to be one of the family myself, soon," Geoffrey said, quietly; -"and you cannot suppose that I am less anxious than you are to avoid a -scandal. I must know the truth now, at all costs." - -"You shall know everything I can tell you. Oh, Heavens! If it should be -so--if he should be guilty! I could never be sure--never; or I would -have taken steps to get that unfortunate woman released; I did not want -her to suffer. In some way--without incriminating Marshall--I would -have managed it, if only I had been sure! But this bill--ah! that was -his motive, and I never knew! He did not tell me that. As to Roper, I -can assure you that this is the first time, to my knowledge, that I -have heard his name." - -"Yet he discounted the bill. It was in his office that Jenner was -employed after he had failed on the stage." - -"I took no interest in the man after I had dismissed him. I never even -heard his employer's name. He stole the bill, I suppose--ah, yes, I -begin to understand--and he came down here to blackmail Marshall. Quite -so. Great Heavens! Can he be guilty, after all? I'll have the truth out -of him at all costs." - -"That is the difficult part of it," Geoffrey said, with a flush. "I -can make Marshall speak out, but I dread his confession. By rights, we -should give him up to the law--and yet the disgrace--the----" - -"We must get at the truth first; afterwards we can decide how to get -the woman released, and how to punish my wretched brother-in-law. Tell -me what proof you have against him?" - -Heron produced his pocket-book, and took therefrom the bill of -exchange, which he gave to Mr. Cass. He started, as though a snake had -stung him. "Forged?" he asked, placing his finger on the signature of -Geoffrey Heron. Then on a nod from that young man, he added: "Did you -find this among your father's papers? No; that is impossible. Jenner -must have had it on the night he was murdered; yet if Marshall killed -him to get possession of it, how came it into your hands?" - -"Because Marshall lost the fruits of his wickedness he never gained -possession of this bill. Jenner was too clever for him; it seems, as I -learn from Mrs. Jenner, that she left him alone while she put her child -to bed. During that time he--fearing, no doubt, lest Marshall should -try and recover it--sewed it up in the body of a toy horse with which -his boy had been playing. Neil sent the horse to George Chisel, your -grandson, and he, as children will, cut up the animal. Miss Brawn saw -this paper among the stuffing, and gave it to me." - -"Does she know? Has she said----" - -"She knows nothing of the connection of this with the murder--and she -has said nothing for I made her give me her word that she would not. No -one but you, and I, and she are aware of its existence. - -"Roper--what of Roper?" - -"He knows nothing about it. If you knew how he hated Marshall, you -would be glad that he is ignorant. For he would certainly prosecute if -he got hold of this paper." - -"I doubt if he could now, seeing that your father--who alone could give -evidence as to the falsity of the signature--is dead. But why does he -hate Marshall so bitterly?" - -"Well, it appears that Roper had a daughter who fell in love with -him she would have married him, and he had given her every reason to -believe that he would. But, of course, he stopped at that, and she died -of a broken heart. I don't think there was anything scandalous about -the affair--nothing worse than the playing fast and loose with the -affections of the unhappy girl." - -"He always was a scoundrel. I paid him a large sum to leave my firm, -as I feared he would do something criminal some day. Then he married -my sister. I begged her to give him up; but she was headstrong, and -insisted. Great Heavens!" he cried. "And he married her very shortly -after he had committed this crime. Yet I doubt very much if he would -have had the courage to kill Jenner." - -"Will you tell me what led you to suspect him?" - -"In the first place, from the circumstances of his return on that -night; in the second, these links." - -"How is that? I should like to know all from the beginning." - -"Well, Marshall was staying here on the night of the crime. He looked -out of sorts; but he made some excuse--I forget what. After dinner -he said he was going out for a walk; it was wet and misty, and I -tried to dissuade him. My sister had gone to bed with a headache. I -was alone, and, although I never liked him, I wanted to talk to him. -But he insisted upon going. About nine he returned, knocked at the -library window--that French window over there--and I let him in, torn -and muddy and wild with fear! He said that he had been set upon by -robbers--footpads. The next morning I heard of the murder, and I spoke -to him about it, but he swore that he had not seen Jenner." - -"Tell me about the links. Are they yours?" - -"Yes; I bought them many years ago, when I was young and vain. Marshall -saw them, and took a great fancy to them; so I gave him the set--and -now"--Mr. Cass clenched his hands--"I fear, if he got his deserts, that -they would hang him!" - -And, quite overcome, he bowed his head on the table. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. -RUTH IS COMFORTED. - - -Presently Mr. Cass raised his head and looked at Geoffrey with such a -woebegone expression that the young man started. It seemed as if the -merchant had grown suddenly old; lines appeared on his face which had -never been there before; his eyes were sunken, and his shoulders had -bowed themselves as though the whole weight of his misery had been -placed upon them. The transformation was at once startling and painful. - -"Don't take it so much to heart," said Heron. "After all, we may both -be wrong about Marshall." - -"I hope so. I trust so." was the hoarse reply. "But if he is guilty, -what am I to think of myself? I had a suspicion, on the grounds of -which I have told you, yet here I have allowed an innocent woman to -spend all these years in gaol, when that scoundrel should have been in -her place." - -"As to that, you could hardly have accused your sister's husband." - -"He was not married to her at the time. If I had insisted upon an -explanation that night when he came in torn and dirty at yonder window -I might have prevented the marriage. I do not think that even the mad -love that Inez had for him would have stood such a test. But Mrs. -Jenner held her tongue when she should have spoken out, so I had no -clue." - -"Even if she had spoken out she could have done nothing. She was silent -because she fancied that Neil, in his madness, had killed his father; -she never suspected Marshall. But retrospection can do no good; the -thing is done, and what we have to consider now is how best to get out -of it. If Marshall is guilty he must give us a written confession and -leave the country--without our connivance. What purpose would it serve -to have him suffer at this stage? Besides, from all I have heard from -Mrs. Jenner her scamp of a husband quite deserved his fate. Marshall's -confession would set her free----" - -"At the cost of publicity!" burst out Mr. Cass. "How [*** *** ***] -disgrace, Heron? Think of my sister, of Ruth, of Amy, my married -daughter; it would mean ruin to them all. And you, how could you marry -into such a family?" - -"Oh, as to that I am not afraid to face the world. I should be a mean -hound if I were to visit Marshall's sins on Ruth. Whatever happens, you -may be certain that Ruth will be my wife, and that she will receive -from me all the love and affection due to so charming and honest a -girl." - -"Thank you, Heron." He grasped the young man's hand. - -"But," exclaimed the younger man, "as to Marshall, when we know the -truth for certain we will decide how to act. Above all we must not be -in a hurry. You say you gave the links to him?" - -"I did. And what is more, he wore them on that night. I remember his -calling my attention to them at dinner." - -"Humph! Then he alone could have lost that one at the Turnpike House. -I suppose you did not notice if one was missing from his cuff when he -came into this room?" - -"No, I never gave the matter a thought. There was no reason why I -should. I believed that he had been attacked by gypsies--you know how -many there are always about these lonely roads. An assault of that -nature would have been quite enough to account for the mud on his -clothes and their torn condition. I never thought he had met Jenner." - -"Was there bad blood between them?" - -"Well. I am not quite sure. It seems that Marshall had persecuted Mrs. -Jenner with his attentions, but her husband was not of the sort to take -any trouble about that. He and Marshall I had been boon companions for -a long time. Whether they parted on account of come row, I don't know; -but one thing is clear, that Jenner saw Marshall again when Marshall -called on Julian Roper to discount that bill, and finding that it was a -forgery stole it to come down here and blackmail his former friend." - -"How could he find out that it was a forgery?" - -"Oh, very easily. Roper might have talked, or Jenner might have -listened. At all events he knew the truth. I suppose they met that -night at the Turnpike House." - -"No," said Heron, suddenly recollecting his conversation with the dead -man's widow. "Jenner had seen Marshall before he came to the Turnpike -House. Of course, Marshall might have followed him and watched him -through the window; then seeing the pocket-book--which he supposed -would contain the bill--he might have killed him and cleared off. But -this Marshall must tell us; that's if he can be made to tell." - -"I'll force it out of him," Mr. Cass said, grimly. "Those sleeve-links, -for instance; he has to explain how he came to lose one at the Turnpike -House. I remember after Marshall went away from here the housemaid -brought me the pair enamelled the pack of cards and the horse, which -she said Mr. Marshall had left in his room. I thought he must be tired -of them, and that he had probably taken the other pair with him by -mistake. So I put those he had left into my desk, and I thought no more -about it. When Mildred wanted a brooch for her doll I separated them -and gave one to the child--the one with the horse. The one with the -pack of cards I left on my table, intending to give it to Ethel." - -"I have the champagne bottle link which was dropped under the window," -Geoffrey said. "Now, what has become of the other one, the ballet, -girl?" - -"No doubt that also will be found at the Turnpike House," said Mr. -Cass. "I must tell you that the fastening of the links was somewhat -worn, and that a slight tug would have, broken them. In putting his -arm through the window to grasp the knife, which Mrs. Jenner says was -on the table, I daresay Marshall's cuff caught in a nail and the links -were torn apart. Both would have fallen to the ground. One has been -found, the other, no doubt, is still on the ground." - -"In that case we must make a search to-morrow," said Geoffrey, rising. - -"No, we must see Marshall first," Mr. Cass said, very decidedly. "I -would go over with you to-night; but that would make Inez suspicious. -I do not want her to know anything of all this. And, after all, we may -be mistaken; but he must give us an explanation. I will write a note -to him this evening and ask him to come over to-morrow. You call here, -Heron, at eleven o'clock, and we will force the truth out of him." - -"Very well, I think that would be best. I hope he will be able to -exculpate himself. If Mrs. Marshall should get to know----" - -"She would fight for her husband tooth and nail. You don't know what a -tigress my sister is when she is roused; the Spanish blood, I suppose. -By the way," he went on, looking at Heron with a faint smile. "I am -half Spanish, too, and no doubt I am credited with a fiery temper -Confess, now, Heron, you thought from my silence that I had killed this -man?" - -Geoffrey nodded with some embarrassment. "I did," he said, frankly. -"But can you blame me? Appearances were against you." - -Mr. Cass shrugged his shoulders. "No, I don't blame you," he said. -"But you might have given me the benefit of the doubt. Appearances are -against Marshall, too. Well, we shall see if he is as wrongly suspected -as I was. Are you going now? It is early." - -"I should like to see Ruth for a few minutes." - -"Well, she will be quite as glad to see you. She is dull, poor girl, -and the horror of this thing--so much as she knows of it at least--has -got on her nerves. Go and see her, and come here at eleven to-morrow. -Of course, you will tell her nothing." - -"Certainly not. Good-night." - -"By the way, I forgot to tell you that Webster is coming down next -week. He is much better, and I think the change will do him good." - -"Humph! Will you tell him of this discovery?" - -"I don't know. What do you think?" - -"I should say nothing until we are quite certain. Let us our own -counsel for the honour of the family." - -"I think you are right," said Mr. Cass with a sigh. "Heaven grant, for -the happiness of us all, that we are wrong in our suspicions. Now go, -my dear hoy, and leave me to think the matter over. Ruth is waiting for -you." - -Heron found Ruth in the winter garden and in tears. She told him, she -was the moat miserable girl in the world, and that nobody cared for -her; which last statement Mr. Heron was not inclined to hear without -venturing to put forward his own claims. - -"My darling, girl, how can you say so?" he asked, pressing her closely -in his arms. "I love you more than all the world." - -"Every man says that when he can think of nothing else to say," replied -Ruth, who was too much disturbed to be wholly just. "And if you really -loved me, you wouldn't have neglected me so." - -"My dear, I was busy. You know what took up my time." - -"Yes, I know, and I wish I didn't know! This horrid business has -troubled me morn and night. I wonder my hair hasn't turned grey!" - -"Nonsense!" cried Geoffrey. "It is as black as ever." - -"Black as the outlook of our lives." - -Heron could not help a smile at this grandiloquent speech. It was so -unlike Ruth to indulge in what the Americans call "tall talk." "Leave -the wretched affair alone, dear," he said, kissing her. "You need not -trouble your pretty head any more about it." - -"But I must," she insisted. "If my suspicions are not set at rest, I -shall go mad. And the worst of it is, I have promised my father to tell -you nothing. If I could only speak freely to you, it would ease my -mind." - -"Then ease it and speak freely, Ruth. Oh, you need not shake your head. -I know what you are talking about--those sleeve-links." - -"Yes, that is it!" she cried hysterically. "I have nearly killed myself -with anxiety over the whole thing. Oh, what a wicked girl I am!" - -"No, my dear; only a very foolish girl. But you can set your mind at -rest once and for all. Your father is perfectly innocent of what you -impute to him. He had nothing do with the crime; and he believed in all -good faith that Mrs. Jenner was the guilty person." - -Ruth rose to her feet, and a smile of relief dispelled her tears. "Oh, -how delighted I am!" she said, excitedly. "I shan't worry any more. Oh, -how thankful I am! What a weight is off my mind! But why didn't he tell -me before?" - -"He had his reasons--reasons, which he has explained to me. They need -not trouble you, my dear. I think you had better put the whole affair -out of your mind." - -"I will, now that papa is free from the stigma; he does not know that I -thought he was seriously mixed up in the case. He would never forgive -me if he did! Don't ever tell him, Geoffrey." - -"No, I won't. Now, don't worry any more." - -"But, Geoffrey, if Mrs. Jenner is not guilty, who is?" - -"Ah, we must find that out," replied Heron, thinking it best not to -reveal anything about Mr. Marshall--an explanation which would only -have caused fresh trouble. "If you are wise, Ruth, you will leave the -matter alone." - -"I intend to," she said. "But there is one thing I want to tell you, -Geoffrey--Job Lovel." - -"Who is he?" - -"The gypsy. Didn't I tell you about him?" - -"Yes; I think you did say something about having met him at the -Turnpike House. Well, what has he been doing?" - -"Nothing, except that he has taken up his abode at the Turnpike House." - -"Like his impudence!" cried the young man. "Why, that house is mine, -and if he wanted to live in the wretched hovel, he should have come to -me. Besides, I do not wish anyone to live in that shamble. I intend to -have it pulled down, and so get rid of all the legends which haunt the -neighbourhood." - -"I wish you would pull it down; it is an ill-omened place--a blot on -the landscape; and the sooner it is removed the better it will be for -the countryside. The people round here think it is haunted, you know, -and that keeps up the memory of the murder. If the house were pulled -down, there would be an end of it all--and the sooner the better. But I -do not know what Aunt Inez will say!" - -"Mrs. Marshall?" cried Geoffrey, looking at her sharply. "What has she -got to do with it?" - -"That is what I want to tell you, it seems that Aunt Inez has taken an -interest in Job; she suggested that he should patch up the house and -live in it; and she has arranged to allow him so much a week to live -on." - -"Humph! That is strange. Mrs. Marshall is not usually so philanthropic." - -"That's exactly what I thought; and that made me think that papa had -something to do with the murder, and that Aunt Inez was shielding him." - -"Shielding him--how?" - -"By assisting Job. I went to see him the other day, and I found Aunt -Inez there; she was very angry with me for having gone. I saw Job -afterwards, and he would tell me nothing, but he hinted at a secret -between him and Aunt Inez; now I think----" - -"Don't think anything about it," Heron said, with a forced laugh. "Your -aunt is getting charitable in her old age. Believe me, there is nothing -between her and the gypsy, relative to the murder, whatever he may say." - -"But he talked, Geoffrey----" - -"I daresay; I wonder he did not threaten! I will this for myself and if -he knows anything--which I very much doubt--I will get it out of him. -My dear, how can you think your aunt knows anything about the matter? -Now, Ruth, you must promise me to leave it all alone, and think no more -about it." - -"Very well," she said, with unusual meekness. "Then you don't think -Aunt Inez has anything to do--any knowledge, I mean?" - -"I am quite sure she has not. She is kind to Job out of pure charity. -Now I must say good-night and, once more, don't worry." - -But as he drove home he came to the conclusion that Mrs. Marshall's -kindness to the gypsy was meant, in some way, to shield her husband. - -"And that complicates matters,"--thought Heron. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. -AT BAY. - - -On the following morning, Geoffrey arrived precisely at the time -appointed by Mr. Cass, and was shewn at once into the library. His host -was there alone; for Marshall, with his usual want of punctuality, had -not yet appeared. Geoffrey was informed of the sudden change in Ruth. -"Your visit did her good last night," said her father with a smile. - -"I told her not to worry herself--that all was quite right; and she -seemed comforted. But she told me something which seems to hint -that Mrs. Marshall knows of her husband's guilt." And he, repeated -Ruth's tale about the gypsy and Mrs. Marshall's kindness to him--her -extraordinary kindness, he termed it. Mr. Cass listened attentively, -but shook his head. "I don't agree with you," he said. "You do not know -Inez as I do." - -While they were still speaking--in whispers like two guilty -people--Marshall bustled into the room in what he would have called his -breezy fashion. In reality his manner was simply aggressive and noisy, -but it gave him the air of being--what he wanted to be thought--a -creature too guileless and unconventional to conceal his feelings. -"Good-day, Cass," he cried loudly to his former partner, and nodding to -Heron. "Well, here I am! What's the matter? Got into any trouble?" - -"No, I have not got into any trouble," was Mr. Cass's emphatic reply. - -"This boy, then?" and Marshall turned smilingly to Geoffrey, upon whom -he looked as a possible member of the family. "You're in trouble--eh, -eh? Ah, well, young men will be young men!" - -"I am sure you speak from experience, Marshall, said Mr. Cass, while -Heron contented himself with a shake of the head. But there is nothing -wrong with Heron." - -"Very glad, I'm sure," Marshall said insolently; it seemed as though he -scented some trouble in the air and thought to meet it with bluff. As -yet he had not the faintest idea that the coming conversation was to be -serious for him personally. "Well," he went on, "as you are all right -and Heron is a good boy, why have you asked me to come over?" - -"Can't you guess?" asked Geoffrey, angered by the man's manner. - -He lifted his eyebrows. "No," he said, tranquilly. "I really am at a -loss to understand why----" - -"Cast your thoughts back twelve years," interrupted Mr. Cass, sharply, -"and then perhaps you will understand why----" - -"What do you mean?" asked his brother-in-law, a thrill running through -him. He saw now that this was going to be serious for him. "Do you -remember the night when you came in at yonder window, muddy and -ragged?" Mr. Cass said, slowly. "When you told me a lie--that you had -been attacked by footpads and----" - -"It was no lie!" cried the man, moistening his dry lips. "I told you -what had actually happened." - -"Oh, no, you didn't. For instance, you never told me that you had seen -Jenner." - -He uttered a faint cry, and flung himself back in his chair with a -startled look. "I did not see Jenner!" he said. - -"Nor did you tell me that you had been at the Turnpike House," -continued Mr. Cass, not noticing the interruption. - -"That I deny. I was not near the Turnpike House." - -With a look of scorn Mr. Cass picked up an object which was lying on -the table, and held it out. "Do you know what this is?" - -"A piece of gold, so far as I can see. What is that to me?" - -"Evidence that you were at the Turnpike House on that night." - -"I tell you I was not there!" he cried, desperately. "Oh, don't trouble -yourself to tell lies," Mr. Cass said, wearily. "They will avail you -nothing in the end. Since you do not choose to recognise this object, -let me tell you that it is a part of the set of links I gave you -shortly before that murder." - -"Links--I--I--only wore them--once." - -"I know you did, and on that night. You lost one pair and left the -other in your bedroom, where they were found by the housemaid and -returned to me. You would have been better advised had you destroyed -them, Marshall." - -"Why should I have destroyed them? I lost one pair, it is true. The -catch between the ovals was worn, and the links broke." - -"Not of their own accord," Mr. Cass said, quickly. "Your cuff caught on -a nail when you put your arm through the window to kill Jenner." - -Marshall uttered a loud cry and started to his feet his face crimson -with rage, and shaking with what looked very much like terror. "I -deny that," he cried. "I deny that I was at the Turnpike House--that I -killed----" - -"This link was found under the window," interrupted Mr. Cass. "The man -who wore it was the man who killed Jenner; you are the man!" - -"I kill Jenner? It is a lie!" Marshall continued to stare at the piece -of gold which his brother-in-law continued to hold up as though he were -fascinated. He drew his hand across his brow as he uttered his denial -in a weak voice, and seemed to be trying to recall something. "Why -should I have killed him?" he asked. - -It was now Heron's turn. He drew from his pocket the bill of exchange. -"Perhaps this will supply the motive," he said, coldly; "this forgery, -discounted by Julian Roper." - -With a face now positively purple and eyes almost staring out of his -head, Marshall craned forward his head to look at the fatal evidence -of his past. He recognised it only too well. For years he had been -dreading this moment, and now that it had arrived the sight of the -document proved too much for him. With a strangled cry he tugged at -his collar, then fell like a log on the floor. The strong man, the -guilty man, had fainted. And, neither Mr. Cass nor Heron were moved by -the catastrophe. It was to them decisive evidence of his guilt; and -when they recalled the lifelong imprisonment of Mrs. Jenner they could -find no pity in their hearts for the detected rogue. Rather were they -full of pity for those unhappy people with whom he was connected by -marriage. Nothing in their eyes could expiate his guilt. - -"It would be better if he died now," said Mr. Cass, as he watched Heron -loosen his collar and dash cold water on his face. - -"Pardon me, not at all," replied the younger man, looking up for a -moment. "If he died now there would be no confession." - -In the end they brought him round and placed him again in his chair, -a pitiable object, with his damp hair, his loosened collar and the -imploring look in his eyes. The most meritorious of men could not have -looked dignified under such circumstances, much less Frank Marshall, -who was so to speak, in the dock before two prejudiced judges. - -"I suppose you are going to give me up?" he said. - -"On the contrary, we want to get you out of this trouble--for the sake -of the family," said Mr. Cass, coldly. "Though by rights you should -hang." - -"They don't hang for forgery, stammered the wretched creature, -arranging his collar. - -"Pshaw! I am not speaking of the minor crime but of the greater. It was -you who murdered Jenner." - -"I did not. I swear I did not." - -"You did. I am convinced of it. He came down here with that bill in -order to blackmail you and you killed him." - -He made no attempt to assert his dignity. "You can kick a man when he -is down if you like," he said, in a quavering voice, "even though he is -your sister's husband, but you have no right to accuse him of a crime -he did not commit. I tell you I forged that bill, but I did not kill -the man." - -"You knew that he was in the neighbourhood?" - -"No, I was as much astonished as you could have been when I heard of -his death." - -"If you are innocent"--It was Heron who spoke--"how did it happen that a -part of the links you were wearing were found under the window of the -house? You must have dropped it there." - -"I did not." He seemed to be reflecting. "If you want to know the truth, -that pair of links was torn from me by the footpads who attacked me. I -daresay they killed him." - -"Rubbish!" cried Mr. Cass, looking at him with disgust. "Why do you tell -such lies? You met Jenner on that night, although you denied it when I -questioned you." - -"I was afraid of being implicated in the murder. I knew if you had the -slightest suspicion of me you would have stopped my marriage with Inez, -and I loved her." - -"You loved her money, you mean." - -"Well, then, I loved her money!" Marshall cried, violently. "I was on -the brink of ruin, and it was only her that stood between me and the -streets. I had to pay Roper the five hundred pounds. He could not have -prosecuted as the bill was missing, but he could have talked, and he -would have talked, had I not paid him the full sum. It was only when I -had possession of the money--my wife's money--that I was able to shut -his mouth. I knew before then that the bill was lost." - -"Because Jenner had shewn it to you on that night?" - -Marshall turned away sullenly, but still under compulsion answered: -"Yes, he did. I had received a letter from him saying that he was -coming here with the bill and would sell it to me. He asked me to -meet him at the Waggoner's Pond, half a mile from the Turnpike House, -where his wife was staying. As I had no money, and was in his power -absolutely--for by shewing the bill to you, Cass, he could have had my -marriage with your sister broken off--I was forced to meet him, and I -did meet him at seven o'clock." - -"Oh! so you did go out that night to meet him!" - -"I did," he said, defiantly. "I dare not tell you for you have always -had so many absurd prejudices. So I told you I was going for a walk, -and stole out to meet Jenner at the Waggoner's Pond. I said that if he -would wait till I was married and could handle money I would buy the -bill. So, finding that unless I made your sister my wife I should never -have a penny, he consented." - -"Oh," said Mr. Cass, "he consented to go without his pound of flesh--a -man like Jenner, bloodsucker and thief!" - -"He had to choose between exposing me and getting nothing or waiting -and being paid," said Marshall, vehemently. "Besides, he knew that Roper -was after him because he had stolen the bill, and that if he made a -fuss, whatever row I might get into, he would be in trouble himself. -So he agreed to wait until I had married Inez and then to accept a -thousand pounds. Meanwhile, he kept the bill and promised to hold -his tongue about it. He said he was going on to see his wife at the -Turnpike House, and that he would get money from her which would enable -him to lie low for a time while Roper was searching for him. It was -arranged that when I was married and had paid him the thousand pounds -he should go to America. I agreed to all this--I could do nothing -else--and then we parted." - -"Is that the truth?" Heron asked, sceptically. - -"Yes, it is. You can believe or disbelieve it as you like. I left -him by the Waggoner's Pond, and that was the last I saw of him alive -or dead. On my way back to the house I was attacked by some tramps -who took my watch. They wrenched my links off--that is one pair, the -missing pair--and were about to take the other when they heard someone -coming and made off. I returned here and told Cass as little as I -could, in case he might see fit to stop my marriage with his sister." - -"I wish to Heaven I had stopped it!" Mr. Cass said, fiercely. "I don't -believe a word you say!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. -STILL IN DOUBT. - - -Marshall, seeing that the two men were silent, began to recover his -self-command. "I see you don't believe me. Perhaps there is no reason -why you should. But I swear I do not know who killed Jenner. If I had -known I should have got that bill out of him." - -"Oh!" said Geoffrey. "And you would have condoned his sin so long as he -gave you back the evidence of your own." - -"I would. Every man for himself in this world. I would have told him, -whosoever he was, that if he did not give me back the bill I would -denounce him to the police. But I have not the least idea who the -guilty person is." He wiped his face. "And all these years I have lived -in misery, fearing daily and hourly that the bill would turn up. I knew -Roper would not spare me if he got possession of it." - -"No wonder," remarked Heron, "seeing how badly you treated his daughter -Elsa." - -The culprit had the grace to blush. "Elsa Roper was never a penny the -worse by me," he said. "When I used to go to her father's office to -procure money she chose to fall in love with me. I made capital out of -that, as I do out of most things." - -"Don't be so shameless, man!" interposed his brother-in-law, sharply. -Marshall sickened him with his fluent villainy. - -"Oh, you were always a Puritan," sneered Marshall. "However, that is -neither here nor there. I let the girl believe that I cared for her in -order to get her father to part with his money, but I never intended to -marry her." - -"And she died of a broken heart," put in Heron. - -"So the old man says. As though a woman ever died of such a thing! She -caught a chill, and was carried off because she was not sufficiently -well nourished; that is the truth, although old Roper prefers to put -it down to me. If he had fed her better she would be alive now. But he -chooser to think I killed her, and would do me a serious injury it he -could. I am glad the bill did not fall into his hands. Where did you -get it?" he asked, turning to Geoffrey. "Or if you can tell me the name -of the person who had it I can tell you who was the assassin of Jenner. -Oh, it is quite true. Jenner shewed me the bill that night by the -Waggoner's Pond. I would have taken it by force, but he was stronger -than I; there was no chance of my getting the better of him. But I -noticed that he took it out of a red pocket-book. Now, that pocket-book -was never produced at the trial, so the assassin must have it." - -"Then you don't think Mrs. Jenner killed him?" - -"She? She wouldn't have killed a fly. No, she did not kill him. If she -had, that red pocket-book would have been produced in court. I have -been living in fear ever since, wondering who had it, though I always -intended to make use of the murder should the assassin have tried to -blackmail me. Who did you get the bill from, Heron?" - -"I did not got it from anyone. Jenner evidently thought that you might -come after him to steal it, so, according to his wife, he sewed it -up in the body of a toy horse with which his child had been playing. -Lately Neil wished to give this toy to George Chisel, so it came into -Ruth's possession. The boy cut it open, and Miss Brawn found the bill. -She gave it to me and I at once saw Roper about it. Besides, I read up -my father's diary and found that his name had been forged." - -"Did he know that I had done it?" - -"Yes. Roper called on him to tell him so. If my father had not died, -Mr. Marshall, you would have found yourself in prison for forgery." - -"No, I should not. You forget that Jenner stole the bill. No one could -have prosecuted me without producing the document. I know enough law -for that. Besides, I had paid the money to Roper, and that I did only -to avoid a scandal. Does Ruth know about this, or Miss Brawn, or -George?" - -"They know nothing," replied Mr. Cass. "Ruth does not even know of the -existence of this bill. George is but a child, and took no notice of -it. As for Miss Brawn, she thinks the signature is all right. She will -hold her tongue. Oh, you are quite safe so far. But this murder. I feel -certain that you committed it; no one else could have had so powerful a -motive." - -"Still, someone else might have had a motive for all that. I am sure -Mrs. Jenner is innocent; but her husband had lots of enemies, and many -would gladly have done it, could they have escaped the consequences. -The only thing that puzzles me is the disappearance of the red -pocket-bock. I understand all about the bill now; it could not have -been made use of. Well, the whole affair is a mystery, but all I can -say is that I did not kill the man. I knew if it came to the pinch I -could always prove that." - -"It has come to the pinch now," said Mr. Cass, sternly. "Prove your -innocence, if you can for my part I believe you are guilty." - -"More fool you!" was the retort. "On that night, if you remember, we -had dinner at six--a light dinner, dished up in a hurry--your wife had -to go to London; you told her you would have some supper at nine, did -you not?" - -"Yes, I remember something of that," said Mr. Cass, after a pause. - -"Was I not in to supper?" - -"Yes, you were; I remember that too." - -"And supper was at nine?" - -"Yes, it was ordered for nine, and I postponed it till half-past -because I did not feel hungry." - -"I was here when you gave the order, because you asked me whether I -would prefer supper at once, or wait." - -"That is true enough. Well?" - -"Well, if you will look again into the evidence given at the trial of -that unfortunate woman, you will find that the doctor said that Jenner -had been killed at nine o'clock. Therefore, it could not have been I -who struck the blow. By your own shewing I was with you at the time. -Now, am I innocent or guilty?" - -Mr. Cass looked at Geoffrey. "All this is true enough," he said, -quietly. "I begin to believe that you did not do it after all." - -"If you can be so honest as to admit that I was in this room at nine -o'clock I could not have killed Jenner, who was at that very time being -murdered by some unknown person four miles away. I am a forger, I admit -that; but"--here he became finely scornful--"I am not a murderer. -Foolish I may have been, wicked I never was." - -The two listeners gazed at each other in amazement. Then Marshall went -on. - -"Now I know where the bill is I feel relieved," he said, and his -self-pity was almost, pathetic. "I can sleep in peace, more especially -when it has been destroyed." As he spoke he advanced his hand towards -the table with the intention of taking the paper. Mr. Cass anticipated -him, and snatched the incriminating document away. - -"No, Marshall," he said, putting it in his pocket. "I keep this. You -are too dangerous a man to be allowed to go your own way. I use this -bill as a whip to manage you. Behave yourself, and act a decent part -for the remainder of your life, and no one shall ever know of this. But -try any of your tricks and you will be laid by the heels." - -"Do you call this honourable?" blustered Marshall. - -"I call it caution. You are quite safe with me, and I am sure our -friend Heron will say nothing." - -"Certainly. I shall be guided entirely by Mr. Cass." - -"But Roper might get hold of it, and then I should be lost." - -"Roper will not get hold of it. I keep it, Marshall. It is for your -wife's sake only that I am thus lenient. So far as you are concerned -nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see you suffering a just -punishment. You are the most unblushing scoundrel I have ever seen!" - -"You had better look out Cass," said Marshall, threateningly. "I can -make you pay dearly for these insults." - -"Can any person possibly insult you?" sneered Mr. Cass. "Do what you -like, but remember"--he touched his breast-pocket--"I will exact -payment. Now you know. As for the rest, I don't want you in my house -again, but as that might provoke remark on the part of Inez, and lead -to an explanation, I will permit you to call occasionally; but I hope -your visits will be rare. Were I in your place I should go abroad. Now -you can go." - -The man was livid with rage. He was evidently inclined to make trouble. -He knew that he could go pretty far, for only the direst extremity -would force Mr. Cass into creating a scandal by producing the bill. But -he could find nothing to say in face of the threat held over him; and, -cowed by the looks of the two men, he finally sneaked out of the room. -Then he left the house, but he had recovered himself sufficiently to -make a gay remark to Ruth and Jennie, whom he met returning from their -walk. Truly the man was bad to the core. - -"Do you believe him?" asked Heron when they were alone. - -"Yes, what he says is perfectly correct. I confess I am greatly -relieved." - -"So am I. But do you think he knows who killed Jenner?" - -"He might, but that we shall never get out of him. On the other hand I -am inclined to think he does not know, for believing the assassin to -have had the bill, he would have made an attempt to get it from him. -But what is to be done next? Mrs. Jenner is still in gaol and ill." - -"Ah, that reminds me," said Geoffrey, taking a letter out of his -pocket. "I had this from Neil this morning. I intended to show it to -you, but our interview with our friend put it out of my head. He is -coming down to-day." - -"What!" exclaimed Mr. Cass, running his eyes over the letter. "Is he -well enough to travel?" - -"Oh, yes; he has wonderful recuperative power. You see, he says there -that he intends to see his mother. It appears she has sent for him. -He must have gone to her yesterday as he is coming down to-day. I am -anxious to see him, for I cannot help wondering why she should have -sent for him. Do you think she might have something to tell him?" - -"No." Mr. Cass shook his head. "I saw her the other day. She is quite -ignorant who killed her husband; she is in the infirmary now, and very -ill. I don't think the end is far off. I expect she sent for Neil to -bid him good-bye." Mr. Cass paused for a moment. "You know, Heron," -he said, "in spite of all the trails you have followed, I cannot help -thinking that she really killed her husband." - -"I cannot believe it. The person who committed the murder was the man -who got those links--who dropped one under the window." - -"Ah--then we shall never find out." - -"Marshall might know; he might have recognised the footpads who -attacked him that night," suggested Heron. Then he started, struck with -a sudden idea. "By the way, is it possible that the gypsy Job was one -of them? That would explain how he comes to be so intimate with your -sister." - -"I don't see that," remarked Mr. Cass, with a frown. "If she knew that -Job had attacked her husband, and had afterwards murdered Jenner, -he would receive but short shrift from the hands of Inez. She is no -sentimentalist." - -"But, don't you see," persisted Geoffrey, "she may think that he has -the bill--she may be keeping her knowledge of the murder quiet so that -Job may not produce the document and incriminate her husband." - -"Inez knows nothing about the bill. You heard what her husband said!" - -"He is such a liar!" cried Heron, in disgust. - -"Nevertheless, I believe on this occasion he spoke the truth. I cannot -believe that my sister--in spite of her love for that reptile--would -go as far as to grovel to a gypsy and shield a murderer. No; the gypsy -might have been one of those who attacked Marshall on that night; -but I do not believe that he killed Jenner. Don't trouble any more -about the matter, Heron. We have done all we could with no result. -Besides, Mrs. Jenner--poor soul--will soon be released from her unjust -imprisonment--if, indeed, it be unjust; death will set her free." - -"What about Neil and his wish to see his mother cleared?" - -"We shall see what he says about that," replied Mr. Cass, closing the -subject in a more peremptory manner than was usual with him. - -The same afternoon Neil Webster arrived at Hollyoaks, looking a -shadow of his former self, pale and fragile, and very downcast. Ruth -and Jennie both gave him a cordial welcome; and neither his host -nor Geoffrey Heron were lacking in heartiness. But all the kindness -and attention he received served only to make the young man more -melancholy. Observing this, and knowing that he had seen his mother, -Mr. Cass took the first opportunity to draw him into the library: -it might be that Mrs. Jenner had told the poor fellow something. It -appeared that she had. - -"Yes, I saw her," Neil said, in reply to Mr. Cass's question. "She is -dying; I have seen her for the last time! She cannot live many days -now; indeed, I wanted to stay beside her till the end, but she would -not hear of it. She said that I was to go away and remember always that -she had loved me. For the rest, I was to put her out of my mind, and -live as good a life as I could. Then she kissed me, and we parted." - -"Is that all?" - -"That is all; except that she has commanded me to stop searching for -the real assassin of my father." - -"Did she say that?" - -"Yes; she said no one would ever find out the truth, and, moreover, -that my father had deserved his fate. She was sure I had not committed -the crime; she swore that she herself was guiltless; but she said that -it was quite impossible that the truth should ever come to light." - -"Do you think she knows the truth, Neil?" - -"No; I am sure she does not. She said if she did she would have told -me, if only to put my mind at rest. But she knows nothing. Poor mother!" - -"And what do you intend to do?" - -"Obey her commands," said Neil. "I shall search no more." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. -ANOTHER PIECE OF EVIDENCE. - - -Ruth let Miss Brawn take entire possession of Neil. In spite of his -languid ways, Webster was an interesting study to a woman. So Miss Cass -found it a trifle dull; for Geoffrey had returned to his own place, and -did not come over to Hollyoaks quite so often as she thought he might -have done. Yet she rarely intruded upon Jennie and Neil, but allowed -them to drift into a companionship which she devoutly hoped would -result in the closer tie of marriage. Jennie continued to give the -usual lessons to her little pupils; and after school hours Ruth took -them off her hands, so that she might be free to entertain Neil. After -a time he recovered sufficient interest in his music to take up his -violin, and with Jennie he spent long hours going over his old music -and experimenting on new. - -Meanwhile, Ruth naturally found the house extremely dull without -Geoffrey; so she spent as much time as possible in long walks, in -riding her bicycle, and in paying visits. One day she recollected her -promise to call and see her Aunt Inez. Mr. Marshall had gone for a -change to Brighton, where, no doubt, he was enjoying himself after his -usual selfish fashion. His wife had declined to accompany him, giving -as her reason that she had more to do than waste her time among a -pack of fools--as she was wont to designate the rest of the world. So -she remained at home and attended to her duties in rather a joyless -way. She still retained a mild love for her husband; she despised his -weaknesses; she hated his lack of principle; but some sentiment of -love remained at the bottom of her soul. Companionship had begotten -toleration; and, on the whole, she thought, she was not worse off than -other women. She, at least, could govern her husband's weaker nature, -and could curb his follies. And this somewhat unsatisfactory employment -gave her plenty to do; so she succeeded in passing her life in an -endurable fashion. Fortunately for her, she was not a woman who had -the capacity for being bored. Nine out of ten women would have killed -themselves out of sheer weariness of the flesh; but Mrs. Marshall -continued to live on--grimly. - -Ruth had often wondered in her secret soul if her aunt were doing -penance for some hidden sin; it was the only way in which she could -account for the asceticism of her life. She lived in an ugly house, in -which all the rooms were hideous both in colour and design--all, save -those which were occupied by the master of the house. His apartments, -furnished by himself, were charming in every way. - -As she stood now in the stone-hued drawing-room, the melancholy of the -place struck Ruth more than ever; and, moreover, glancing round the -room, she caught sight of a copy of Thomas a Kempis. "She's taking to -religion," she thought, turning over the leaves. "I really wonder if -there is a secret in her past life to account for----" But at this -moment a grim maid-servant entered I to interrupt her conjectures. - -"If you please, Miss," she said, "mistress is in the garret storing -things, and she wants to know if you will go up to her there?" - -"Oh, certainly," said Ruth, wondering if her aunt were mad that she -should invite a visitor to go poking about among old lumber--even -though that visitor were her niece. But she meekly followed the maid -up to the top of the house, and was introduced into a long, low, wide -attic, immediately under the roof. Here Aunt Inez, in a stone-coloured -dress, with a severe face, gave her an icy greeting. In spite of the -summer warmth the garret was chilly, and this, joined to her reception, -made the girl shiver. - -"I am glad you have remembered me at last, Ruth," said Mrs. Marshall, -in her most metallic tones. "I was beginning to think you had forgotten -me." - -"I found it difficult to leave the house, aunt; Neil Webster is there, -and, of course, I have had to attend to him." - -"I heard the young man was back again," she said, in a muffled voice, -"and truly, I wonder that my brother should have him in the house!" - -"Why shouldn't he? Neil is a good fellow!" - -"But his mother is not a good woman. She belongs to the criminal -classes." - -"My dear aunt," cried Ruth, "I am sure the poor woman is more sinned -against than sinning." - -"What do you know of her?" asked the good lady, turning a terrible eye -on her niece. "Has your father----" - -"Yes, he has; and I found out a great deal for myself. I am sure Mrs. -Jenner did not kill her husband." - -"You know nothing at all about it. Mrs. Jenner was a minx; I knew her -well when she lived at Hollyoaks and taught Amy. I lived there myself, -and managed the house, too, for your poor mother never did have any -idea of how to conduct an establishment. Mrs. Jenner--a bold, bad -woman! She came down to Westham after the arrest of her abominable -husband, and lived at the Turnpike House----" - -"And there her husband called to see her on the night he was murdered." - -"On the night she murdered him," corrected Mrs. Marshall, vehemently. -"Will you be wiser, than the law, Ruth? I tell you it was she who -struck the blow. I do not say that she had not good cause, for the man -was a brute. But she had no right to take his life!" - -"She didn't--she didn't," asseverated Ruth, with quite as much -vehemence as her aunt had shewn. "The blow was struck through the -window for the sake of getting a red---- Why, whatever is the matter, -aunt?" - -"Nothing--nothing!" gasped Mrs. Marshall. She had seated herself -suddenly on a convenient box, and with her hand to her side, was gazing -at her niece with an ashen face. "A stitch in the side--that's all, -child! Why did your father tell you all this--and what does he know -about the red pocket-book?" - -"I have heard scraps of information at times," said Ruth, trying to -get out of the unpleasant position in which her tongue had placed her. -"But I know very little; I don't want to have anything to do with the -matter. Please don't ask me anything more about it aunt." - -"You have said so much that I must know all," said Mrs. Marshall, so -fiercely that the girl was frightened. "If you refuse to tell me, I -shall speak to your father." - -"He is the very best person to whom you could speak," replied Miss -Cass, with some defiance in her voice, for her temper was rising at her -aunt's tone. "But please don't bring me into it." - -"I shall act as I think best. If this case has been reopened--as I -judge from your words, it has been--why was I not informed? - -"I refer you to papa," said Ruth, coldly. "And, after all," she added, -"I do not see what you have to do with it, Aunt Inez." - -"More than you think," replied Mrs. Marshall, tightening her thin lips. - -Then Ruth did a very foolish thing--a thing she repented of for many -a long day after. "What about Job?" she asked. "Does he also take an -interest in the case?" - -Mrs. Marshall sprang forward in the most dramatic fashion, and seized -her niece by the arm. "You have been asking him questions," she said. - -"And what if I have?" cried the girl, twisting herself away. "Anyone -has a right to ask questions, I suppose? But he told me nothing." - -"He had nothing to tell." - -"In that case you need not look so fiercely at me, aunt." - -Mrs. Marshall realised how indiscreet was her demeanour. - -"Don't trouble about me, child," she said, with a forced laugh. "I have -done nothing to be ashamed of." - -"I never thought you had, aunt!" - -"Mrs. Jenner," continued Aunt Inez, exactly as though she were -repeating a lesson, "was a flirt. When she married a brute, she only -got her just punishment. I did my best to be kind to her; but I always -hated her. It is no use my denying the fact--I did hate her! If you are -a woman, Ruth, if you have your grandmother's blood in your veins, you -will understand." - -"Oh, yes," said the girl, proudly conscious of her own tiger blood, "I -can quite understand. I should like to see any woman take Geoffrey from -me! Aha!" And she growled like a playful cat. - -"I believe Mrs. Jenner killed her husband," continued Aunt Inez, taking -no notice of this speech, "and she is being punished for it. As to -Job--I merely assist him out of charity; he knows nothing about the -murder; it had happened before he came to these parts. Now, are you -satisfied?" - -"My dear aunt, I never wanted to be satisfied," replied the girl. "I -never thought you knew anything about the murder." - -"I don't--I don't! I swear I don't!" cried Mrs. Marshall. "But this red -pocket-book--it was not mentioned at the trial." - -"I know nothing about it," said Ruth, promptly; she was not going to be -drawn into the discussion. "Ask papa about it." - -Mrs. Marshall, seeing she would get nothing further out of her niece, -returned to the examination of the lumber which was scattered over -the floor of the garret. "Then we will go down shortly and have some -tea, my dear," she said, in her most amiable tone. She was evidently -desirous of effacing the impression of her former fierceness. - -Ruth wondered but little at her aunt's strange demeanour. - -In a meditative way she watched Mrs. Marshall moving about on the other -side of the garret, so close under the slope of the roof that her head -touched it. There were two windows--one at each end, but these were so -dirty that the place was enveloped in a kind of brown twilight which -had, at first, prevented the girl from seeing plainly. As her eyes grew -more accustomed to the semi-gloom, she examined the lumber that was -piled up on all sides. All the scum of the house had risen to the top -and been left in this isolated attic. It was filled with the wreckage -which will accumulate even in the most orderly houses. There were, -also, ancient books, piles of newspapers, and suchlike things huddled -together pell-mell, and over all lay a thick, grey dust. - -Suddenly as Ruth, growing tired of waiting, shifted her position, -the light from the window behind struck out a patch of red. Her eyes -wandered mechanically towards the colour. It was the red morocco -binding of a narrow book which protruded from the heap. Hardly thinking -what she was doing, the girl picked it up, and with the light from -behind her strong upon it she examined it minutely. Then her heart -seemed to stand still, for it was a pocket-book--perhaps the very red -pocket-book which had been stolen by Jenner's murderer, and of which -they had been speaking only a few minutes before. - -Anxious to make quite certain as to this, Ruth slipped off the elastic -strap and examined the discoloured leaves. For the most part they were -blank, but written on the front page was a name, and the name was -Jenner! - -At the sight Ruth uttered a cry. Mrs. Marshall turned sharply. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. -THE RED POCKET-BOOK. - - -"What is the matter, child?" asked Mrs. Marshall, sharply. - -But Ruth could not answer. She sat with the red pocket-book in her -lap, gazing upon it as though it were a viper. Aunt Inez repeated -her question impatiently then, surprised at her niece's silence, she -crossed the garret. Her eyes fell at once on the red book, and for a -few seconds no word was spoken. Then at last Ruth made a remark, and -made it in a hushed voice, as though she feared it might be heard by -others than the frozen woman before her. - -"It was not produced at the trial," was what she said, looking at her -aunt. - -Mrs. Marshall might have been a granite image for all the movement she -made. Her face was like snow, her eyes fixed as though she were in a -cataleptic state. And so she was--for the moment. Only when Ruth, who -was the first to recover herself, made a motion to rise did she shew -any signs of life. She sighed deeply and removed her eyes from the book. - -"I will shew it to my father," said the girl; whereat her aunt changed -suddenly into a creature of fire. She snatched at the pocket-book and -had it in her grasp before Ruth could close her fingers upon it. - -"You will shew it to no one," she said, thrusting it into her pocket. -"I forbid you to say a word." - -"Tell me how it came to be here, and I will consider if it is right for -me to be silent." - -"I will explain nothing. Girl, what demon brought you here and shewed -you that book? I came up here to look for it; I have been searching -for over an hour. You came in and found it in a few minutes. It is -fate--fate." - -"Aunt Inez," Ruth drew back until she was standing up against the wall, -"you--oh, no!--you did not--did not--kill the man!" - -Mrs. Marshall shrugged her shoulders, her colour and her courage coming -back to her almost as she spoke. "You are at liberty to think so if you -like. I will not contradict you. No, indeed. I have other things to do." - -"Will you contradict my father?" - -"I forbid you to tell your father of this." - -"I must! I will know the truth of this matter. There is an innocent -woman in gaol for----" - -"An innocent woman!" interrupted her aunt, with contempt. "Oh, yes, -very innocent!" She paused and looked at Ruth. "Come downstairs," she -said. "As you have found what I wanted, we need not remain here." - -"You knew that this book was hidden here?" - -"Yes; I have known it for years." - -"Why did you not produce it at the trial?" - -"That is my business." - -"How did it come into your possession?" - -"Ah! that I refuse to tell you. Think me guilty if you like. It is -evident you want to smirch our family name. But I have had enough of -this nonsense. You must hold your tongue." - -"To all persons save my father. I must tell him, and I will." - -"I forbid you." - -"It is no use your forbidding me. I tell my father. He has the honour -of the family quite as at heart as you have; and he is the man to -decide what should be done." - -"You will tell?" - -"Yes; I am going straight home to tell all." - -The eyes of the two women met, and for a moment there was a duel of -wills. Then Ruth, with her more youthful fire, got the upper hand; her -aunt turned away. - -"You are bringing me into great danger," she said; "but have it your -own way. Tell your father." - -"Aunt! You did not kill the man?" - -"Think so if you like." - -Mrs. Marshall passed out of the garret. Ruth remained a moment -to recover her self-control which had been sorely shaken by this -extraordinary conversation. Then she also went down the stairs to the -inhabited portion of the house. Mrs. Marshall was not to be seen; and -on inquiring of the servant, Ruth learnt that she had locked herself -in her bedroom and refused to see anyone. In this dilemma there was -nothing left for the girl but to go home, which she proceeded to do -feeling sick at heart. - -On the way to Hollyoaks a sudden thought struck her. Suppose her -aunt were guilty--suppose she had shut herself in her room to commit -suicide! If she had not been almost at the gates of the park when this -occurred to her she would have run back. But the best thing she could -do now was to see her father and implore him to go to Aunt Inez at -once. She felt there was no time to be lost, and ran up the avenue as -quickly as she could. The window of the library which opened on to the -terrace was ajar, so taking this as a short cut she ran up the steps on -to the terrace and flung herself into the room with a white and haggard -face. - -"Ruth! What is the matter? Ruth!" cried Mr. Cass, and sprang forward -just in time to catch her in his arms. For a minute or so she could not -speak, but when speech did come the words poured out in a torrent. - -"Aunt Inez," she cried. "I went to see her. She was in the garret; -there I found the red pocket-book--Jenner's book--which was stolen! She -will not say if she killed him; yet she knew that the book was in the -garret. Oh, see her at once, father--at once! She has locked herself -in her bedroom. I believe that she will kill herself!" and the excited -girl burst into tears of exhaustion and terror. - -Mr. Cass said nothing, but put her into a chair. Indeed, he did not -know what to say, or even what to think, for he felt completely -stunned. He had suspected Marshall, but never Inez. Even now he did not -believe that she could ever have brought herself to commit such a crime. - -"Go! Go!" cried Ruth, wringing her hands. "Aunt Inez--you may be too -late! She will kill herself, I know she will!" - -"No fear of that," said her father, recovering himself somewhat. "She -is not the woman to give up the fight in that way, Inez. No, she never -killed that beast--never!" - -"But, father, the red pocket-book----" - -"She will be able to explain how she came by it. She has a temper, and -is fierce enough when she is roused; but she would not go so far as -that. As to committing suicide, she has no reason for doing that, if -she is innocent." - -"I hope she is. Oh, I hope she is" wailed Ruth, distracted with terror. - -Her father saw that the girl was thoroughly overwrought. In her present -state of mind everything would be exaggerated. He intended to go at -once and learn the truth from his sister, but he could not leave Ruth -in this plight. Before he went he must soothe her. So, pulling himself -together--no easy task, at his age, for he had received a severe -shock--he sat down beside the terrified girl and took her hand firmly -in his own. "See here, child," he said, "however that book got into -Marshall's hands your aunt had nothing to do with it. She did not--she -could not have killed Jenner. I know it because she was in this house -on the night and at the time of the murder." - -"Then if she is innocent why didn't she tell me so?" - -"Well, you know what she is. No doubt she was angry to think you -should conceive her capable of such a crime. She will tell me all she -knows, if she has any knowledge, which I am inclined to doubt. But I -want you to understand, Ruth, that your aunt is innocent, and that her -innocence can be proved by me. Under these circumstances, she will not -commit suicide, as you appear to think. I will go over and see her at -once, and I shall doubtless have a reassuring report to give you when -I return. But you must promise not to worry while I am away; and above -all things, Ruth, do not tell anyone of this. There may be trouble." - -"I will say nothing--nothing," panted the girl, pressing her hands -against her beating heart. "And, indeed, father, I did not meddle with -the matter again. The discovery was thrust upon me. You can trust me, -indeed you can." - -"And you will not make yourself ill with expecting the worst?" - -"No, no; I promise I will go to my room and lie down." - -"That's a good girl; and I will walk over at once." - -"Ride--ride! You don't know what may happen." - -"Nothing bad, at all events. Yes, I will ride. Now go to your room, -dear, and leave me to attend to this." - -"Yes, father," she said, faintly. She had the utmost belief in his -capability of arranging the situation. "But kiss me before you go. I -am--I am rather frightened." - -"Believe me, there is no need for that," said Mr. Cass, with an attempt -at a smile. "There is your kiss, now go." - -Mr. Cass reviewed the whole situation as he rode over to his sister's -house. He reflected that Marshall must have told his wife about the -bill, for that and the book were, so to speak, inseparable. - -"In a word," thought Mr. Cass, as he dismounted at the door and gave -his horse to a groom, "Marshall did not kill the man himself, but he -knows who did. But I'll make Inez tell truth in some way. This is no -time to consider her feelings." - -Following the servant, he went into the stone-coloured drawing-room, -and found his sister waiting to receive him. She was dressed in black, -without a scrap of white to relieve her funereal aspect. - -"I did not expect you to come so soon, Sebastian," she said, in her -rich, low voice. "But I knew you would come sooner or later." - -"I could hardly help coming after what Ruth told me." Her brother was -surprised at her composure. - -"What did she tell you?" - -"That the red pocket-book belonging to Jenner had been found by her in -this house." - -"To be particular, the garret," said Mrs. Marshall, pointing to the -table. "There it is." - -He looked at it with repugnance, and touched it gingerly. Then he -opened it, glanced at the name, and laid it down with a sigh. There was -no doubt it had been Jenner's property, the name was clear enough. "How -did it come into your possession?" he asked, sharply. - -"That is not an easy question for me to answer." - -"Yet it can be answered, and must be, answered." - -"How do you know that I will comply with your 'must'?" she asked, with -scorn. - -"Oh, I know you are hard to drive, but in this case you must speak out. -I have the means to make you, that is if you have any regard for your -husband." - -"You know how I love him, little as he deserves it. You are talking -of the bill. Oh, don't look so astonished. Frank told me of his -conversation with you. It was by my advice that he went away." - -"Inez, is it possible you can love so base a creature?" - -Mrs. Marshall sighed. "To you, Sebastian, I will say things I would not -say to any other person. Little as we love one another, still we are -brother and sister. I know you would do much for me." - -"I would do anything for you, Inez; blood is stronger than water, after -all. And you can speak freely to me, your honour is my honour. I can -hold my tongue. Speak out freely," he repeated. - -"I will," she said, and gave him the kindest look that had been in her -eyes for many a long year. - -"You know how madly in love I was with Frank when I married him. It was -not love, it was infatuation I believed him to be the most perfect and -the most misunderstood man in the whole world. I blamed you for getting -him out of the business, and I thought to repair your wrong by marrying -him. Well, I did; and then what happened?" - -"I can guess. The scales fell from your eyes." - -"They did, within six months. For even then he deceived me. Yes, after -all I had done for him. I had made him rich. I had--but that comes -later on in the story. Suffice it to say, that I soon found out that I -had married a faithless brute." - -"Why did you not get rid of him? I would have helped you." - -She cast a look around the dismal room and smiled strangely. "Because I -had committed a sin. I came to look upon Frank as the cross laid upon -me for the expiation of that sin." - -"Good Heavens, Inez! You don't mean to say you killed Jenner? No! What -nonsense am I talking? You were in bed on that night." - -"I did not kill Jenner," she said, calmly. "Nevertheless I had -committed a sin; you shall hear all in good time. Well, I took Frank -as my cross, and put up all these years with his infidelities, and -drunkenness, and wickedness. I behaved to him as though I still loved -him. I have deceived everyone." - -"You certainly deceived me for one," said Mr. Cass, bluntly. "I thought -you still loved the creature." - -"Loved him! Why, I hated him with all my soul. It was only my religious -principles, and my desire to expiate my sin, that made me tolerate him." - -"In Heaven's name, what is your sin?" - -"I'll tell you soon enough," she said. "But do not be afraid. I have -not dipped my hands in blood. Let me tell my story in my own way. It is -not easy for me to tell it at all. I only do so now in order to avert, -worse trouble." - -Knowing her obstinacy, her brother saw that it was useless to protest. -"Go on," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Have your own way." - -"I often wish we had kept to our mother's faith," continued Mrs. -Marshall. "She was of the true Church, and Catholicism is such a -comforting religion. One has a confessor; that would have done me good. -I have often longed to confess and relieve my mind." - -"Why did you not confess to me?" - -"I had no reason for making you my confidant, Sebastian," she said, -icily. "Well, I was of the Protestant faith, and could not confess, so -I had to bear my own sorrow as best I could. Frank tried me at times -with his dreadful ways, but I had a whip to manage him." - -"What was the whip?" asked Mr. Cass, struck by the fact that she used -almost the same phrase that he had used to her husband. - -"I will tell you shortly; but I mortified my flesh in every way. Look -at this house. You know how I love pretty things, and yet I spend my -life in the midst of these horrors. I am fond of----" - -"See here, Inez," broke in her brother, "I want I to know about this -pocket-book. You can tell me your feelings later." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. -THE PENANCE OF INEZ. - - -Sebastian's abrupt interruption of his sister's enthusiastic confession -was as a douche of cold water on glowing iron. The iron forthwith -cooled; that is to say, Mrs. Marshall, from flesh and blood, became -stone again. - -"Of course I will tell you all you wish to know," she said, in even -tones, with about as much feeling as might have been expected from a -cuckoo. "But since you will not let me tell my story in my own way, I -think it is best that you should put your own questions, then I shall -know precisely what you do want." - -"Don't be angry!" entreated her brother; "but tell me all for the sake -of the family. Where did you learn that Frank had committed forgery?" - -"At the Waggoner's Pond." - -Mr. Cass started from his seat and stared down at his sister in -surprise. He remembered what Marshall had told him about that -appointment at the Waggoner's Pond. "What!" he cried. "Were you out -on the night of the murder? Did you overhear the conversation between -Marshall and Jenner?" - -"Oh, it was Jenner, was it?" she said, quite composedly. "Well, I -guessed as much, though I could never be quite sure." - -"Didn't your husband tell you that he had met him by the Waggoner's -Pond?" - -She looked up with scorn and contempt. - -"Frank never told me anything but what was wrung out of him by fear. -Besides, we did not speak of these things. Like him, I preferred to let -sleeping dogs lie." - -Her brother had taken his seat again, and, deep in thought, paid little -attention to what she was saying. "I thought you were in bed on that -night with a headache?" - -"A woman's excuse," she said, coolly. "I had no headache; but I had -a very keen desire to find out why Frank had an appointment on that -night, and with whom. I suspected another woman--you can guess her -name." - -"Mrs. Jenner? Ah, but he did not go out to meet her!" cried Mr. Cass, -impatiently. "He had an appointment with her husband." - -"I found that out later. But I heard him asking one of the servants -where the Waggoner's Pond was, and if he could find it in the dark. I -knew then that he intended to go there that night for some purpose. -The name of Mrs. Jenner was not mentioned; but as she was in the -neighbourhood--well, you know what a woman's feelings are!" - -"You jumped to conclusions?" - -"Yes; they were wrong, but that did not matter. At all events, I was -satisfied that he did not meet the woman. I slipped out of a side -door unknown to everyone; my headache was a pretext that I might -be at the meeting-place. Had he done so, I would have broken off -the engagement--yes, much as I loved him, or rather, much as I was -infatuated--I would have broken it off at the eleventh hour had he put -such an insult on me!" - -"And yet you married him?" - -"Oh, what is the use of that parrot-cry?" she said, impatiently. "You -have already said that five or six times." - -"Because I am so amazed that your pride did not come to your aid when -you knew the use to which he intended to put your money. To him you -were not the woman he loved--but the banker upon whom he intended to -draw." - -"And yet I married him," she said, with a cold smile. "Women are -strange creatures, I confess. Yet you always considered me proud. See -how mistaken you were! I had more weakness than you thought me capable -of possessing. I was wildly--madly in love with him. At all events, I -intended to marry him, and what is more, I intended to get back that -incriminating bill from Jenner without the expenditure of a penny. I -saw that he had replaced it in his red pocket-book; well, I made up my -mind that I would get that pocket-book." - -"Yet you never guessed the man was Jenner!" remarked her brother, -ironically. - -"I was suspicious, but not certain. However, I did not go after Jenner -at once, for I knew where to find him. I wanted Frank to be out of the -way before I left my hiding-place--I was behind a hedge--and not alone." - -"What do you mean by that?" asked Mr. Cass, startled. - -"I mean what I say. Several times, while I was crouching in the wet -grass, I heard the breathing of someone no great distance off. Well, I -found that other person." - -"When--some time afterwards?" - -"On the contrary, the person threw himself in my way within -half-an-hour after I was on my way to the Turnpike House." - -"Wait a moment!" cried Mr. Cass, with suppressed excitement. "I know who -it was--the gypsy, Job." - -"Ah!" replied Mrs. Marshall, without betraying much surprise. "Ruth -told you something!" - -"Geoffrey did: Ruth had told him." - -Mrs. Marshall rose with a bound. "And pray what has Mr. Heron to do -with this matter?" - -"A good deal," rejoined her brother, drily. "You may as well sit down, -Inez. Geoffrey is perfectly discreet. He is going to marry Ruth, you -know: it will be as much to his interest as mine to keep this affair -secret. Well, so you met this gypsy blackguard?" - -"Yes, half-way on the road to the Turnpike House. In spite of the -darkness and the mist, he knew me in a moment--instinct, I suppose." - -"How could he have met you? Had you met him before?" - -"Lots of times. I knew the Romany dialect, and used to talk to Job." - -"I realty wonder at you, Inez, taking up with such scum! As for Ruth, -I'll talk to her! She shall have nothing more to do with him." - -"Oh, as to that," remarked his sister, shrugging her shoulders, "the -creature is dying; he is consumptive, and is drinking himself to -death. I have placed him in the Turnpike House--without Mr. Heron's -permission, by the way--and I allow him a small sum a week so that he -may die in peace." - -"So that you may keep your secret, you mean." - -"It will soon be a secret no longer. Job, as I say, knew me. He told me -that he had been sleeping behind the hedge--near me, I suppose--and had -been aroused by the sound of voices. He recognised Frank's voice, for -he had often spoken to him; but Jenner he did not know, any more than I -did." - -"Naturally. Jenner was a comparative stranger in these parts. Go on." - -"Well, Job had heard all about, the red pocket-book and the bill. I saw -in a twinkling that here was the instrument I required; I promised him -twenty pounds if he would get me that red pocket-book." - -"Inez! Did you send the man to murder Jenner?" - -"No, I did not. I never thought he would goo so far as that. And, as a -matter of fact. Job has always denied to me that he struck the blow." - -"He certainly would tell you that to save his neck!" - -"Well, after I had made this arrangement with him and had told him that -Jenner was at the Turnpike House, I returned home. I entered by the -side door and slipped up to my room without anyone being the wiser." - -"I certainly was not," said her brother. "You are quite a diplomatist, -Inez. What about Job's murdering mission?" - -"He did not commit the murder," insisted Mrs. Marshall. "He came next -day and brought me the pocket-book. I opened it, but could not find the -bill; then I accused Job of having taken it. He grinned, but would say -nothing. You understand, Sebastian, he had not got the bill; but he -wanted to have me in his power." - -"I see; but you could have turned the tables on him by having him -arrested for the crime." - -"No, he knew of the bill--of Frank's disgrace. I thought, if he were -arrested, he would tell all, which he certainly would have done; then -Frank would have been prosecuted. Remember, I thought Job had the bill! -All these years I have believed he had it in his possession; you do not -know the blackmail I have paid that man! He was always worrying me for -money. At last, seeing he was ill, I put him into the Turnpike House, -and--well, I have told you all that. But now you know why I assisted -him." - -"Assisted a murderer?" - -"Job denied that he had killed the man." - -"Then how did he get the pocket-book?" - -"He said that he had met Jenner before he got to the Turnpike House, -and robbed him of the book." - -"That is a lie!" cried Mr. Cass; "and a feeble lie to boot. Jenner had -the book when he was in that room--before he was killed Mrs. Jenner -said that the book was on the table near the window; and my own opinion -is that the blow must have been struck through the window and the book -stolen." - -"But why believe Mrs. Jenner more than Job?" - -"I will tell you all. The bill was in the pocket-book; you yourself -saw Jenner put it there. Well, he thought Marshall might steal that -bill, so he sewed it up in the body of a toy horse with which his child -was playing. Neil kept the horse, and a short time ago he sent it to -George, who cut the animal open. The bill was found, and is now in -my possession. So, you see, Job could not have taken the pocket-book -which contained the bill before Jenner got to the house. He must have -murdered the man and stolen the book after the bill had been placed -inside the horse. - -"But nothing of all this came out at the trial." - -"No one knew anything about it--least of all Mrs. Jenner. But now you -are satisfied that Job committed that murder?" - -"I suppose so; it looks like it. Oh, the wretch, to let me think all -these years that he had the bill, and that he was innocent of killing -the man!" - -"Had you no suspicion of his guilt?" - -She thought for a moment. "I confess I had," she said, after a pause, -"but, you see, I had to put all such suspicions behind my back. If I -had denounced Job, I thought he would have produced the bill and ruined -Frank." - -"I see. Well, here is the bill. No one knows of it but Heron, and he -will say nothing. I thought of keeping it as a useful whip for your -husband, should he treat you cruelly. But now that I find you do not -care for him, I think it had better be destroyed." - -"No," she said, putting it into her pocket, "I will keep it, to hold -over Frank myself. I hate him, and would gladly divorce him--which I -could easily do. But I am as proud of the family name as you are, and -I do not want a scandal. So I shall not separate from him; but now I -shall know how to make him behave himself." She tapped her pocket with -a grim smile. - -"Did you ever speak to him about the red pocket-book?" - -"No, he never knew I had it. I put it away, and afterwards sent it up -to the garret, where I thought it would be safe. Hardly anyone ever -goes there but myself. Besides, if I had told Frank, he would have -worried Job about giving him the bill, and Heaven only knows what would -have happened then. No, I was wrong, I suppose, but I acted for the -best. When Frank told me that he had seen you, and that the bill was -in your possession, I went up to the garret, intending to find the -pocket-book and destroy it. Then I was foolish enough to ask Ruth; she -found it by chance--and--well, you know the rest." - -"Yes, I know the rest," said Mr. Cass, grimly; "and, among other -things. I know that Job Lovell killed Jenner, and that the dead man's -unhappy wife has been punished all these years. Inez, I know you always -hated her, but would you have let her lose her life?" - -"No; if she had been in danger of that, I would have come forward and -told all I knew, even at the cost of disgrace; I would not have had -the blood of a fellow-creature on my soul. But, to tell you the truth, -Sebastian, as Mrs. Jenner did not defend herself, I really believed she -was guilty, and Job innocent. He confessed to having robbed Jenner; she -would say nothing; so of the two, I thought Job the innocent one. Can -you blame me?" - -"Partly. I blame you for not having told me this long ago. I always -suspected your husband. Now I know that he is innocent; and I should -have known it all along, seeing that he was in the house--in my -house--when the crime was committed. If you had spoken out, I would -have managed to get Mrs. Jenner off in some way without exposing the -whole of this dreadful story. Job should be punished." - -"Think what that would mean to us all," said his sister, warningly. - -"I will contrive to evade the worst. But I must have that poor woman -released!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. -A DOUBTFUL WITNESS. - - -His sister's attitude puzzled Mr. Cass less than might have been -expected. - -On leaving her he went straight to the Turnpike House to interview the -gypsy. - -The first thing was to get the truth out of Job; then he would try to -arrive at some settlement of the question which would be satisfactory -to the world, to justice, and to his conscience. - -The door of the house was closed when he rode up. He dismounted, gave -his horse to his groom, and told the man to take him home. - -"I have to see this gypsy," he explained. "I find he is here without -Mr. Heron's permission. I shall probably remain some time, and I don't -want Sultan to get cold. Go home." - -"Yes, sir," said the man, and then ventured to add a few words on his -own account. "Shan't I wait, sir? Joe Lovel is a rough customer." - -"I know," Mr. Cass said, calmly. "I am prepared for that. I shall -return in an hour, more or less. If Mr. Heron should come to Hollyoaks, -ask him to wait for me." - -The man rode off, leading his master's horse. Mr. Cass waited until -they were out of sight, then knocked vigorously at the door. There was -no response. - -A third knock, or, rather, a perfect battery of knocks, proved that -Job was at home. From within came the growl of a waking beast--a -beast angry at being disturbed; and shortly afterwards the door was -wrenched open by no very gentle hand. The gypsy, with his red-rimmed -eyes blinking from under a thatch of disordered hair, stood on the -threshold. Mr. Cass took in his condition at a glance. - -"Are you not ashamed to be drunk at this time of day?" he asked. "What -do you mean by it?" - -"It is none of your business," growled Job, who had slept off the worst -effects of his debauch. - -"It is my business. I am Mr. Cass." - -"I know you are," retorted the man, still blocking the doorway. "But -that doesn't give you the right to come knocking at my door. 'Tisn't -your house." - -"It is Mr. Heron's house." Mr. Cass said, sharply; "and I have -sufficient influence with Mr. Heron to have you kicked out into the -cold if you do not behave yourself." - -"I shouldn't do that if I were you," said the ruffian, with a sinister -smile. "Others may find themselves out in the cold too. Aye, my gorgeous -Gentile--bigger folk nor the poor Romany." - -This was plainly a threat levelled at Mrs. Marshall, as her brother -clearly saw. However, it was not his intention to quarrel with the man -until he had got the truth out of him. "You speak in riddles," he said, -"but perhaps you will stand aside and let me enter." - -"What for?" asked Job, suspiciously. - -"You shall hear my business when I am within." - -The gypsy began to cough, and the paroxysm was so violent that he had -to hold on to the door-post. - -"Well, sir," said Job, at length, somewhat sobered by a fit of -coughing; "come in. I ain't the one to keep a Romany Rye out of my -tent." - -Mr. Cass entered, and followed the man into the sitting-room in which -Jenner had been murdered by--so far as Mr. Cass knew--its present -occupant. As he entered he became conscious of a strong smell of -petroleum, and, making a sudden pause, "Have you upset your lamp?" he -asked. - -"No, I ain't upset anything," said Job, sulkily. "The smell, is it? Oh, -that's my business. I've got an idea that ain't nothing to do with you. -Sit down and tell me what's the row. I know, though. It's your young -lady. Well, I haven't done her no harm; she's a sister to me, because -she patters the black lingo. Has she been setting your back up, Rye?" - -"My visit has nothing to do with Miss Cass," said her father, sharply. -"Leave her name out of the question. I know all about her visit to you -and how you behaved. I am not blaming you. But my business here has to -do with a very serious matter. Perhaps you can guess my errand when I -tell you that I come from Mrs. Marshall." - -The mere mention of that name drove the remaining fumes of drink from -the gypsy's head, and he cast a sharp glance at his visitor. Mr. Cass -sustained this scrutiny with the greatest calmness, and, finding the -smell of the petroleum quite unbearable, threw open the window and -placed his chair close beside it so that he could breathe freely. Then -he turned round and looked again at the man. Job, open-mouthed at these -liberties taken with his domestic arrangements, stared insolently at -Mr. Cass; but at length he found his tongue. "You'll give me my death," -he grumbled. "I want that window shut." - -"You shall not have it shut, then," said Mr. Cass, coolly. "The air -here is horrible with the smell of that petroleum, whatever you are -doing with it. Sit down over there, and you will be out of the draught. -I have something serious to say to you." - -"So you said before," growled Job, surrendering the point of the window -and pitching himself on to a broken-backed chair. "What's she up to -now?" - -"If you are speaking of Mrs. Marshall, be more respectful," Mr. Cass -said, angrily. "However you may have intimidated her, you ruffian, you -cannot deal with me in the same way. I'll make an example of you!" - -"Ha! ha! You touch me at your peril!" retorted Job, who was getting -exasperated. - -"At your peril, you mean! Now, then, my man, no equivocation, but a -plain confession. Out with it!" - -"Confession? What have I to confess, my Gentile cove?" - -"Be respectful, I tell you, or I'll lay my whip across your shoulders! -'What have you to confess about,' you ask? If the walls of this -shambles could speak they might tell you, not but what you know well -enough what I mean." - -"Ah!" cried the man, his eyes glittering. "She's blown the gaff." - -"Precisely. And it should have been blown long ago. You blackmailing -beast! Now, then, I'm here to learn the truth." - -"Oh, she's not told it to you, then?" - -"Yes, she has. But I want it confirmed by you." - -"What am I to confirm?" asked the gypsy, with a savage oath. - -"The story of how you murdered Jenner in this room!" - -He started from his seat with a howl, and flung himself towards Mr. -Cass. But the merchant was ready for this, and pushing back his chair -sprang to his feet. Job found himself recoiling before the barrel of a -revolver. "You get back to your seat, or I'll blow your brains out!" -said Mr. Cass, and said it with such ferocity that the ruffian crawled -back like a whipped dog. But, then, Mr. Cass had the blood of many a -slave-owning Spaniard in his veins, and was much more savage than an -ordinary Anglo-Saxon. "Do you think I would trust myself here without -protection, you wretch?" he asked, resuming his seat. "No; you move, -and I shoot. I am less English than Spanish, let me tell you; and -perhaps I do not consider my actions so carefully as the people of this -country." - -"You re a fierce one, you are, anyway," grumbled the man, climbing up -to his seat with an uneasy eye on the weapon which still covered him. -"My sister is just like you, plucky as a bantam, she is." - -"Which sister do you mean, Mrs. Marshall or Miss Cass? You have two, -you know, adopted sisters?" - -"Oh, she told you that, did she?" said Job, rubbing his head, and -evidently perplexed at the extent of his visitor's knowledge. "Well, it -seems you know a lot, you do!" - -"Enough to hang you," was the curt reply. - -"That's a lie!" shouted Job. "I didn't lay a finger on him." - -"Then how did you become possessed of the red pocket-book?" - -The gypsy started, and gave Mr. Cass another of his keen glances. He -did not reply immediately, but seemed to be reflecting. At length, "How -do I know you are not laying a trap for me? The business I had with the -high-born Gentile lady concerns her only. She has not told me to speak -of hidden things to you." - -"If you don't tell me--and tell me quickly too--you will have to reply -to a magistrate." - -"What magistrate, rye?" - -"The one before whom I will bring you," was a the quiet answer. -"Understand that I have sufficient evidence in my possession to have you -arrested on suspicion of having murdered the man Jenner. For reasons -which you will doubtless appreciate, I am willing to deal gently with -you. But," he raised a threatening finger, "only on condition that you -make a clean breast of all to me--and at once." - -"Anything you do to me, rye, will harm your sister. I hold something -which can break her heart." - -"The bill of exchange you heard Marshall talking about to Jenner?" - -Job fell back in amazement. "You do know all! Yes; I hold the bill--the -forged bill--which can put in prison----" - -"No one. That is quite enough; you need tell no more lies. You got -possession of the pocket-book----" - -"Yes; and I took the bill out before I gave it to the lady." - -"I see," said Mr. Cass tranquilly, although he marvelled at the daring -of the man. "And you made use of your assertion that you had possession -of the bill to blackmail Mrs. Marshall?" - -"I only got a little money out of her, my Gentile. She has been kind to -me, and she has given me this house to die in." - -"Then the sooner you die the better. You are no good to anyone, so far -as I can see. You scoundrel!--to blackmail a lady! She believed you--I -do not. - -"You don't believe I have the bill?" asked Job, incredulously. - -"No; for if you had you would shew it to me." - -"I will not. Why should I?" - -"You cannot shew it to me! I thought as much." - -"Hey! You think so, rye! Then if I haven't the bill, who has?" - -"Mrs. Marshall; for I gave it to her to-day." - -"It is--a lie! a lie!" Job was quite pale now; he saw that his last -card was played, and that he had now very little hold--but still -some--over Mrs. Marshall. - -"It the truth. The bill was taken out of that pocket-book by Jenner -in this room, and placed in hiding. I need not explain where. It is -sufficient for you to know that the bill came into my possession, and -that I gave it to my sister. Your teeth are drawn, tiger!" - -The gypsy saw--that he was beaten, and began to whine. Although he -already bore the impress of death, he did not want to be turned out to -die in the open fields. "What do you want to know, honourable rye?" he -asked, in fawning tones, for he wanted to propitiate the man who could -make a tramp of him. "I will tell you all--all. You know so much that--" - -"Now, then," interrupted Mr. Cass, impatiently, "where did you get the -red pocket-book? Did you snatch it through this window at which I am -sitting and kill Jenner to get it?" - -"No, rye, I swear I did not. I was not near this house; I got the -pocket-book from Jenner." - -"You liar! The bill was in the book when Jenner came to this house, and -if you had stolen it, the bill would have remained there. Jenner did -not leave the house again; he died here." - -Job scratched his head; he was puzzled. "Well, I thought it was Jenner, -rye; if it wasn't him, then who was it?" - -"Marshall--you attacked Marshall on that night. Oh, I know! You tore -his cuff and stole his sleeve-links; and one was found under this very -window. You dropped it there, you murderer!" - -"I ain't a murderer, I tell you," growled the man, getting angry. "I did -try to get some tin out of that Marshall cove; but that was afore I met -Mrs. Marshall. I was sleeping behind a hedge, and I heard Marshall and -Jenner jawing; I listened, and heard all. When they parted I thought -I'd drop on Marshall, rye, and get some money. I was poor and he was -rich. He put out his arms to fight, and I did grab his wrist; but I -didn't steal his links, I swear! Then I heard someone coming, and I ran -away, while he went home. I came back to the Waggoner's Pond and then -followed the lady. I knew she was hiding not far from me in the hedge." - -"How could you tell that, in the mist and darkness?" - -"I've eyes like a cat, and can see through stones," said Job, in a -sulky tone. "Black don't make no difference to me. I knew her, I -tell you rye and thought she go after Jenner and get that bill for -Marshall's sake." - -"Why for Marshall's sake?" asked Mr. Cass, coldly. - -"'Cause I heard she was going to be his rani--marry him, as you -Gentiles call it. I went after her, and caught her up. I offered to -do the job for money. She said she'd give me lots if I got her the -pocket-book. I said I'd give it her next day. Then I came to this house -where we are now and waited in the hedge on the other side of the road. -I saw the winder was open, but nothing more. There was a cry and a -yell, and a cove comes dashing down the road, I after him and caught -him up, though he run like the wind. I fell on him, and I said: 'Give -us the red pocket-book!' He fought, but said nothing. I thought he was -Jenner." - -"Oh, but you could see in the dark!" remarked Mr. Cass, sarcastically. - -"What did that matter?" Job said, surlily. "I didn't know Jenner when I -saw him; he was a stranger to me." - -"True enough," said Mr. Cass. "Go on." - -"Well, he fought and twisted, and I grabbed on to his throat then he -half gave in, and pushed the pocket-book further into his pocket. I -held him down and got it out. I didn't know he'd been knifing Jenner. -I took the pocket-book to an old barn where I was going to sleep for -the night, and looked through it; I couldn't find no bill, and thought -I'd had all my trouble for nothing. So thinking she'd give me no money, -I made up my mind as I'd tell her I'd got the bill and would keep it -till she paid up; she believed the yarn, and I saw she was afraid. She -asked me to shew her the bill; but I said I wouldn't, as she might put -it in the burning fire. In one way or another I made her think I could -do her husband harm with the bill, so she paid up well. Oh, yes," said -the scoundrel, generously, "I will say she was a real gentle lady." - -"And all the time you hadn't the bill, you beast!" - -Job slapped his thigh. "That's the joke of it," he said, and began to -cough again. Mr. Cass watched him with an expression of contempt. - -The secret of the murder seemed as far off as ever Like an elusive -phantom it flitted just within reach, but when the seer hoped to grasp -it, it was still the same distance ahead. Twice or thrice had Mr. -Cass been on the verge of solving the mystery, and now again it was -impenetrable as always before. He saw no reason to doubt this man's -story; yet he was doubtful. He made one more attempt to get at the -truth. "Who was this man you struggled with?" he asked. - -"I don't know--I could not see much of him because we were fighting -hard, my rye. But I've often thought he was the same cove as I heard -the steps of when I tusselled with Marshall." - -"How could you tell that?" - -"I can't tell, rye," was the candid response, "but I feel it was the -same. When I heard of the murder next morning, I knew he'd killed -Jenner to get that pocket-book; but the lady she said she didn't know. -I told her it was Jenner, and she thought I'd tackled him going to the -house; but it was when the man had left the house, and then Jenner was -inside--dead." - -Mr. Cass had by this time learnt as much as he was capable of taking -in; and the mystery of the murder was deeper than ever. He resolved -that he would go away and think the matter over quietly. "I will go -now," he said. - -"And give me up to the peelers?" asked Job, with a scowl. - -"No, I am doubtful now if you are guilty. I cannot say; but I shall not -tell the police just now; I will see you again. One thing, don't go -near Mrs. Marshall." And he left, his brain in a perfect whirl. - -"Won't I just!" growled Job. "I'll get some more money out of her and -cut the country. No, I won't." Here he sniffed the petroleum. "I'll try -that game first. The Gentiles chuck me; the Romany won't have me! There -ain't nothing but that," he sniffed again, "for poor Job!" And he swore. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. -THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. - - -Geoffrey was at Hollyoaks when Mr. Cass arrived home. He had come over -simply to see Ruth, never dreaming that any further revelations about -the case awaited him. But his host lost no time, and at once invited -him and Neil Webster into the library. There he left them for a moment -while he went upstairs to see his daughter and tell her that all was -well with her aunt. - -"You need not trouble your head, my dear," he said. "Your aunt got that -pocket-book from Job, who"--here, for obvious reasons, he suppressed -the truth--"who picked it up on the road. Now, is your mind at rest?" - -"Completely." She kissed her father fondly. "But Geoffrey! I sent down -to say that I was ill; he will be disappointed." - -"I will speak to him. Meanwhile try and get some sleep. You can see him -another time." - -In this way he managed to set her mind at rest; then he returned to -the library to have the matter out with the two young men. He found a -letter lying on the table, and, making some excuse, opened it at once; -for he had become so accustomed now to the occurrence of unforeseen -events that the sight of an envelope addressed in an unknown hand made -him anxious lest it should bring some new element of trouble. - -"Ah, Neil," he said, as he ran his eyes over the contents, "this is -from the prison chaplain. Your mother wishes to see me." - -"Can't I go with you?" asked the young man, rousing himself. - -"I think not. She told you to keep away, and it is only right that you -should obey her. To-morrow I will go up; and when I return you shall -know all that has passed between us. Meantime, I have a painful story -to tell you and Geoffrey. - -"Oh!" said Heron, quickly. "More about this case?" - -"Yes: I think we are getting near the truth now. I have made several -important discoveries. By the way, Geoffrey, Ruth will see you -to-morrow; she is not very well--in fact, she had rather a severe shock -to-day." - -"This confounded case, of course!" remarked Heron, forming his own -conclusions; and naturally enough, for his mind was now wholly occupied -with Mr. Cass's promised revelation. - -"Yes; about the case," said Mr. Cass again. "I want you to give me your -closest attention. And, first, both of you must promise me to say -nothing of what I have told you until I have given you leave. For the -matter concerns a member of my family." - -And forthwith he plunged into the middle of the exciting history, and -told it with as much detail as he could remember. It was necessary -to make things perfectly clear to his listeners, as he relied upon -their judgment to help him out of the cul-de-sac into which the whole -affair was now wedged. At the conclusion of the story Neil, who had -been more or less excited throughout, although he had refrained from -interruption, jumped up and began to pace the room. - -"There isn't the slightest doubt," he said, "that Job Lovell killed my -father to get possession of that pocket-book. - -"I thought you would say that," said Mr. Cass, drily; "and what do you -say, Heron?" - -"It seems probable that Job did kill the man," said Heron, with a grave -nod. "Marshall, you say, Mr. Cass, was in this house at the time: your -sister had got back to her bedroom. Now, only these two knew that the -bill was in the pocket-book or had any interest in getting it." - -"You forget Job; he knew all." - -"Job must be the murderer!" exclaimed Neil, with flashing eyes, "and my -mother is innocent. Now she must be released." - -"I will see to that," said Mr. Cass, composedly. "But you must let me -manage the matter in my own way. I do not wish the rascalities of my -precious brother-in-law made public. If Job can be proved guilty, he -must be punished. In any case, as soon as we are certain of his guilt, -Mrs. Jenner must be released." Mr. Cass paused, then added abruptly: "I -hold you both to your promise." - -"If I had my way," said Neil, "I would go at once to Job, and force -the whole truth out of him. As it is, I shall not move in the matter -until you give me permission. My mother told me to leave things as they -were--you have asked me to do the same. I owe you too much, Mr. Cass, -to break my promise." - -Mr. Cass, much affected by this speech, shook the young man warmly by -the hand; then turned an inquiring eye upon Geoffrey, who answered the -look. "I will do nothing, Mr. Cass, since it is your pleasure to thresh -the matter out yourself. But I only warn you that Job may kill himself." - -"How do you mean kill himself--on account of this murder?" - -"Maybe--I don't know. But he is dying slowly, and in much pain. His -fellow-gypsies will have nothing to do with him--he is too much of an -outcast even for the Romany! I heard from one of my servants that Job, -in a drunken humour, had threatened to put an end to himself by burning -down the Turnpike House. In order to do this, I believe he has lately -bought a large quantity of petroleum. - -"Ha!" exclaimed Mr. Cass, suddenly, "I know. The house smelt terribly -of petroleum; I daresay he has soaked the whole place in it, that it -may burn the more quickly. What is to be done? The man seems to be in -earnest." - -"You must get his confession as to how he committed the crime." - -"That would be the best thing, no doubt," assented Mr. Cass, "but -to-morrow I want to go up and see Mrs. Jenner. She seems to be very -ill, and wishes to see me at once." - -"Heron had quite made up his mind that he would see Job the first -thing in the morning; but Providence intervened with a sprained ankle. -Returning home late from Hollyoaks, he was overtaken by darkness, -and in some way--how he could not explain--he stumbled and rose with -an aching ankle, which next morning was so painful and swollen that -his housekeeper begged of him to give himself a day's rest; but he -declined this advice, and managed to drag himself to the library. It -was a dreary day, but towards the end the monotony was broken by the -announcement of a visitor; and to his surprise, a figure in rusty black -clothes was shewn in--a creature which smirked and grinned and rolled -its head in a half-witted way; Geoffrey stared. - -"Jerry Hutt!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing in this -galley?" - -"I am Mr. Hutt when I pay visits," said Jerry, with dignity. "Only when -I'm put upon at home by mother and master am I called Jerry." - -"Well, then, Mr. Hutt," said Mr. Heron, humouring the strange creature, -"I should like to know your business. Take a seat." - -Jerry obeyed, first going through the ceremony of dusting a spotless -chair so that his rusty suit might take no harm. He had furbished -himself up for the occasion, and wore a flaring red tie as spruce as -Julian Roper's green one, and as ill-suited to the person who wore -it. In this was stuck a pin which, when he had seated himself near -Geoffrey, the latter could see very clearly. It was an oval piece of -gold adorned with the enamelled figure of a ballet-girl! - -While the unconscious visitor sat smirking blandly on his chair, Mr. -Heron rang the bell; and when the butler entered, spoke a few whispered -words, upon which the man cast a startled look at Jerry and hurried -from the room. In three minutes the door of the room half opened and -closed again. Then Geoffrey knew that the under footman--a strapping -young giant--was waiting outside in case Mr. Hutt might be compelled to -make a too hasty exit. - -"Well, Mr. Hutt," said Geoffrey, "what is it?" - -"I thought you were never going to speak," said Jerry, in an injured -tone, "and I'm that hungry and dry, you wouldn't think!" - -"First we will have our talk, Mr. Hutt; then I will see about having -you provided with refreshment. Your errand! quick!" - -"It was the master sent me here," Jerry said, becoming more respectful -as he delivered his message; it was as though the spell of the sender -were on him. "He bids me say that if you can give him that bill of -exchange, he's willing to buy it." - -"That's very good of him," Geoffrey said, ironically. "And why does he -want the bill of exchange you speak of?" - -Jerry nodded mysteriously. "I know; but I mustn't tell," he said. - -"You must tell, or I won't discuss the matter with you." - -"Well, it isn't a secret; leastways, neither mother nor master said -'Hold your tongue, Jerry.' I can say this much, that master wants to be -upsides with that Mr. Marshall--you know why." - -"What do you know about Mr. Marshall?" - -Suddenly the smirking creature was transformed into a furious beast. -"I know that he killed Miss Elsa, he did!" shouted Jerry; and the man -outside was instantly on the alert to run in and aid his master. "Aye! -She was a beauty, and he broke her heart. I hoped to have made her Mrs. -Jerry Hutt," he added, with a sob, "but that wicked Mr. Marshall he -had her put in the ground. I'll never see her again! But I want to lay -him by the heels. I do, quite as much as master does; and that bill of -exchange will do it. - -"Ah! you know all about the bill of exchange, then?" - -Jerry nodded. "I listened after you went away, and I know it was the -same as they spoke of at the time of the murder. Ugh!" he shivered, -"that were a gory murder, bless my soul!" - -"We will leave the bill alone for the time being, Jerry, and talk of -something else--that beautiful breastpin, for instance! Where did you -get the thing from, Mr. Hutt?" - -Hutt blinked, quite pleased that Mr. Heron should admire his jewellery. -"I picked it up," he said, nodding. "It wasn't a pin, but I made it one -myself." - -"And where did you pick it up, Jerry?" - -He shook his head. "I can't tell you that," he snapped, and frowned. - -"Well, I know that you picked it up not far from the Turnpike House, -my friend, and that you dropped the other part of the link under the -window." - -"The window!" gasped Jerry, turning almost blue with suppressed fear. - -"Yes; the window of the Turnpike House through which you killed -Jenner." Hutt stared blankly at him, his eyes starting from his head. -Then he gave vent to a long howl like that of a beaten dog, and slipped -on to his knees. "Oh, don't hurt me!" he sobbed. "I never did anything! -I'll tell you all. I'm frightened--the master said I'd be caught some -day!" - -"Then you did kill him!" Heron almost shouted. - -"No, I didn't," snuffled the man. "You can't hang me for not doing what -I didn't do! Here!" loosening the breastpin, "you can have it." He -threw it to Heron. "I don't want to be put in gaol, please--please!" - -His dim brain had seized upon the idea--from the few words Heron had -spoken--that the gentleman knew all, and could hang him. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. -THE END OF THE TURNPIKE HOUSE. - - -Perhaps had Heron attacked Jerry less suddenly, and had he not shewn by -a few chosen remarks that he knew a good deal, the half-witted creature -might not have confessed. But his weak nature gave way altogether. And -during the next half-hour Geoffrey turned him inside out like a glove. -The story which Heron extracted from the whimpering creature was this -Roper had always suspected, and rightly, that Jenner had hidden the -forged bill before he went to prison. When the man came out, he got to -know the date of his discharge, and set Jerry to follow him in order -that he might see where he went to get the document. Jerry was on the -track for many days, and saw that he procured it from an old friend, -who, ignorant of its value, had taken charge of it. The document was -in a sealed envelope, and Jerry had seen Jenner place it in a red -pocket-book. All this he reported to Roper, and he was then ordered to -follow Jenner, and get it from him at all costs. - -Jerry got again on the track of the released prisoner, and followed -him down to Westham. In one way or another the spy kept himself out of -sight, for Jenner, having been Roper's clerk, knew the lad--as he then -was. The rest may be told in Jerry's own words, which were many and -rambling: - -"He got down here on a misty, rainy night, sir," he said, fiddling with -his clumsy fingers, "and I kept at his heels. At a wayside pub he took -victuals and drink; I watched the door from the other side of the road, -and ate what I had with me. I daren't go inside lest he should see me." - -"Didn't you lose him in the mist?" asked Geoffrey, who was listening -eagerly. - -"I never lose anything, sir," returned Jerry. "I can see anywhere, and -foller like a dog. You don't slip me! I've had enough follering to do -for the master. Well, Jenner he goes to a large pool of water." - -"The Waggoner's Pond. Go on." - -"Oh, that's it, is it? I never know'd. Well, there he meets with Mr. -Marshall. Oh, I know'd his voice. I was hiding near them behind a -hedge, I was; and a ghost came past me, sir--a ghost with a long black -dress." - -Heron saw that the man was ignorant that Mrs. Marshall also had been -listening; and this was all the better. It was as well that Jerry had -taken her for a ghost. - -"I hate him so, you see," explained Jerry. "He killed Miss Elsa, and -I was cruel fond of her, I was. Well, them two was talking about the -bill, and Jenner he shewed it to Marshall, but he wouldn't give it up -till he got money for it. Marshall said he'd give him money when he was -married and after that they parted. I tried to foller Jenner, but I -thought the other--Marshall--'ud spot me. I didn't mind, though, as I -know'd Jenner was going to the Turnpike House to see his wife." - -"But you were a stranger! How did you know where that was?" - -"I had passed it in the afternoon, and from what Marshall said to -Jenner, I know'd it was the Turnpike House. Well, sir, I scrambled a -lot, and got mixed---- I don't know where I got. Then I heard a scuffle -and a cry, and saw in the mist two men fighting." - -"Marshall and Job," thought Heron; then aloud, "Go on!" - -"I thought as someone else might be after the red book, so I was going -to run forward when one cove he slipped away, and after groaning awful -the other he went too. He was shaken a lot by the fight. I stayed where -I was for a time, then I creeps forward and lights a match." - -"What did you do that for?" - -"I wanted to see if in the fight the red book had been dropped. How -was I to know that one of them wasn't Jenner in spite of his going on -to the Turnpike! When I casts a light," he resumed. "I saw something -glittering on the ground. It was a broken link, and I examined it by -another match. There was two links. One piece was a champagne bottle, -just as you said, sir, and the other was my pin with the girl; I -thought they were pretty and saw they were gold, so I puts them into my -coat pocket." - -"How did you lose them, then?" Geoffrey asked, thinking this -explanation perfectly feasible. - -"I only lost one--the champagne bottle," said Jerry quite gravely, -"'cause there was a hole in my pocket I know'd nothing of. The other I -took home and got made into a pin. I never know'd till you spoke where -I lost the one! Was it under the Turnpike window?" he inquired. - -"It was found there," assented Heron. - -Jerry scratched his head. "I must have shook it out when I was looking -in at the window," he muttered. - -"Oh, you did look in at the window, then?" - -"Of course I did, sir. Wasn't I follering Jenner? After I picked up the -links I went straight to the Turnpike but didn't get there for a long -time through having mistook the way. I see a light in the window, and I -sneaks up to it through the bushes. The window was open and Jenner he -was leaning against it. On a table, under the window, I saw a knife, -and the red pocket-book with the bill. Jenner was talking to himself -and cursing some child----" - -"Poor Neil," muttered Heron. - -"I waited a bit to steal the book, when I heard Jenner give a yell, and -saw a kid come into the room looking frightful; he ran at Jenner who -gave a skip and dodged him. The child's eyes was like diamonds, and -fixed; I never seed anything like the looks of him in my born days. -Jenner he screeched again and pitched himself at the child to fall on -top of him--leastways it looked like it. But I didn't wait; I saw my -chance, and grabbing the pocket-book I ran like a deer, I did. Just as -I got a little way off a cove jumped out on me and collared my throat -singing out for the red book. I wouldn't give it up, and shoved it -deeper into my pocket; but he held me down with one hand and dug it out -with the other. My heart!" sighed Jerry rubbing his hand, "didn't the -master give me beans for not having that pocket-book!" - -"Didn't you know who robbed you?" - -"No; I wished I had known. I'd have got the book next week when the -talk of the murder was past. But the master got a scare from that, -though I told him, as I tell you, that it wasn't me. He said 'Lie low,' -so I did lie low, and after a time he gave up the idea of getting the -bill, till you came the other day, and he thought you might have it. So -I've come to buy it if you will sell." - -"We'll talk about that later, Jerry. Are you sure Jenner was alive when -you left the window?" - -"I swear it! He was just making for the kid." - -"Had he the knife in his hand?" - -"Not as I knows, sir. I think it was on the table. Jenner just ran at -the kid with his mouth open; he was in a cruel fright. But I cut and -didn't wait to see anything." - -"Then, do you think the child killed Jenner?" - -"Lor' no, sir!" cried Jerry, amazed. "A weak little thing like that! -'Sides, the kid hadn't the knife. 'Twas on the table, I'm sure." - -"Can you guess, then, who killed him?" - -"No, sir, I can't. All I know is that I didn't. But now you know, just -say if I'm to have the bill!" - -"I'll tell you to-morrow morning." - -"I must know to-night; the master wants me back to-night." - -"He can't have you, then," said Heron, drily. "You stay here to-night, -I want you to repeat your story to someone else." - -"I won't then! I was a fool to tell; but I don't know nothing." - -"You must stay here." - -"I never killed him!" wept Jerry; then he turned sullen and made a grab -at his hat. "I'll go," he said, and made for the door. - -"Stephen," called Geoffrey; and Jerry found himself face to face with a -big footman who seized him with iron hands. - -"Here! here!" he shouted, struggling and roaring. "Let me go; I never -did nothing to Jenner. Let me go!" - -"Lock him up in some empty room, Stephen," cried Mr. Heron, "and give -him food and wine; he must be kept here all night. I will take the -responsibility. Confound this foot! If I were only able to walk! Oh, -I'll keep you, Mr. Hutt; we haven't done with each other yet." - -Jerry's cunning came suddenly to his aid, and he ceased struggling. "If -you give me grub and wine I'll stop," he said. "I ain't done nothing to -Jenner; and I ain't afraid." - -"Take him away, Stephen, and do what I tell you," said Geoffrey, -sharply; and Jerry Hutt soon found himself locked in an out-shed with a -tray of food and a bottle of beer for his supper. - -At intervals Stephen, the footman, came in to see that he was safe; -the creature noticed this, and made his plans accordingly. Immediately -after Stephen had departed after one of these peeps, he scrambled up -the rough woodwork and managed to get to the window, which was closed -merely by a hasp, no one having the least idea that the man would -attempt to escape. Jerry broke open the catch, and soon forced his -ungainly body through the opening. Not paying sufficient attention -to his footing, he fell, and alighted on a manure heap some distance -below. "Spoiling my nice new suit," he grumbled, as he groped round to -get out of the yard in which he now found himself. - -There was some little difficulty about this; but he at last discovered -a gate, which led into a by-lane, and was soon out of Mr. Heron's -grounds, running across country for all he was worth, chuckling at the -way in which he had outwitted his host. - -For quite two hours he wandered on; for he had completely lost his -bearings. The night was fine with a high wind; the moon was at the -zenith, and across her silver face passed cloud after cloud. At -intervals the whole landscape became light as day, and he could see -plainly. But he was a comparative stranger, though he had several times -been down looking for the bill by his master's order. - -Suddenly he emerged on to a common overgrown with gorse, and found -himself on a spot where four roads met. Some distance away a white -house looked spectral in the moonlight. - -"The Turnpike," he said aloud. "My gum! And there's the window I looked -through; the light's in it now, too--just as it was when Jenner was -killed. I wonder who's in there!" - -His curiosity got the better of his fear of Mr. Heron, and with a -surprisingly light step--for the man was heavy--he crept through the -jungle of bushes and sneaked along the wall of the house. "Just like -old times," he said, chuckling. "I hope there ain't no more murders -though." - -Someone was singing a wild song in a drunken voice; and when the clerk -peered through the window--for there was no blind--he saw a man dancing -in the middle of the room. A cheap oil lamp was on the table, and by -its light the dancer executed his fandango, waving a bottle as he did -so. The apartment was bare, and a horrible smell of petroleum was -wafted to Jerry's nostrils. In his curiosity he forgot to keep himself -concealed, and Job--for he was the dancer--saw him. He flung himself -across the room, and before Jerry had realised his danger the gypsy had -seized him; by the collar of his coat and was dragging him through the -window. "Come in, come in, Satan!" yelled the drunken man. "We'll have -another murder! Ho! - -"Let me go--let me go!" screeched Jerry; but he was like a rabbit -caught in a snare, and shortly found himself in a heap on a -petroleum-soaked floor, while Job closed the window, Hutt was -terrified; but he could see no means of escape. - -"Have a drink," shouted Job, thrusting the bottle under Mr. Hutt's nose. - -"You let me go," he whispered, clinging to a chair. "If you don't, my -master will set the police on to you see if he don't." - -"The police!" cried Job. "What do I care for them! They can't do -anything to me; she'll keep them off--she will. I can shew up her -husband it she don't. Drink, drink, or I'll kick you!" - -Partly to avert the carrying-out of this threat, and partly because -he was extremely dry with his race across country, Jerry accepted the -offer, and as the ardent spirits went down his throat, he felt his -courage revive. - -"I'm Jerry Hutt," he exclaimed, "and I work for Mr. Roper. I want the -bill--the bill!" He made a grab at the gypsy. "It will lay him by the -heels," he hissed. - -"Lay who by the heels, hang you?" cried Job, pushing him back. - -"Why, Marshall--I won't call him 'Mister' Marshall--who killed my poor -dear Miss Elsa." - -Job, half stupid with drink, had yet the sense to gather the meaning -of the words. "Blest if I won't know of the red pocket-book, too," he -muttered. - -And even as he spoke, Jerry caught the words, and repeated them. "The -red pocket-book," he shouted. "Do you know where it is? The bill is in -it, and I'll buy it off you; oh, yes, I will. Fifty pounds." - -Job banged his fist so heavily on the table that the lamp tottered. "I -wish I had it now!" he cried. "Fifty pounds-by gum!" - -"Have you the bill there?" asked Jerry, taking another drink. - -"No; I haven't anything," said Job. "She got it out of me." - -"Got what out of you?" - -"Why, the red pocket-book--but the bill wasn't in it," he added. - -For a moment Jerry stared at the man, then dropped the bottle with a -crash on the floor; it broke, and the liquor forming a pool, added its -fumes to the smell of the petroleum. "You had that red book!" stuttered -Jerry, trying hard to clear his brain. "And it was taken from me! You -live here--you were--you, oh, oh!" He sprang from his seat with a roar. -"You took it from me!" - -"Well," said Job, with a growl, "was you the cove as I fought on that -night, and knocked about so?" - -"You robber--you thief!" cried Jerry, crouching for a spring. "Give me -back my property--the book, the bill!" and he flung himself on the -gypsy, who gave a cry of rage. - -"I'll crush you like a fly, as I did before!" Job said, and grappled -with his visitor. - -But Job was not the man he had been twelve years before; he could not -hold his own as he had once done. Shouting and cursing, the two men -swayed round the apartment. Finally, they crashed against the table, -and upset the lamp it fell and burst on the floor. Immediately the -woodwork, soaked as it was in petroleum, broke into flame, and in -almost less time than it takes to tell, the whole room was in a blaze. - -With a yell of terror, Jerry tried to shake himself free, and leap -through the girdle of fire but Job held him fast. - -"No, you don't!" he shouted. "You die with me, whoever you are! I've -made arrangements for this; I never intended to live: but I thought I'd -die alone. Now I've got you!" and he made a clutch at Jerry's throat. - -After that the struggle proceeded in silence, for Job held his peace, -and Jerry could not cry out by reason of those two strong hands fast on -his throat. By this time the room was blazing like a furnace, and the -clothes of the two men were in flames. A frightened wayfarer saw the -fire streaming towards the sky--saw two men vaguely struggling in the -flames. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. -THE TRUTH AT LAST. - - -"It is not impossible," said Geoffrey, thunderstruck. - -Mrs. Marshall shook her head. "So possible that I always thought so -myself," she said. - -"My own idea was the same," remarked Mr. Cass, who was the third person -of the party now assembled in Mr. Heron's library. "I have told you -several times, Geoffrey, that I believed Mrs. Jenner to be guilty." - -The young man drew a long breath. Even now he could scarcely credit the -news. "So she really did kill her husband?" - -"There can be no doubt about it," said Mr. Cass, pointing to an envelope -lying on the table. "There is a copy of her confession! She signed it -in the presence of the chaplain and the governor of the gaol." - -It was the morning after the burning down of the Turnpike House that -this conversation took place. Information that two charred bodies had -been found among the ruins had led Geoffrey to believe that Jerry had -perished along with Job. Stephen had informed him on the previous -night that the creature had made his escape, and no pursuit had been -attempted. There was no doubt in Geoffrey's mind that Jerry had gone to -see Job at the Turnpike House; but why he should have done so, and why -it had come about that he and the gypsy should have met their deaths -together, he could not think. Nor was the mystery ever cleared up. -But if the death of Jerry remained a mystery that of Jenner did not. -Towards noon Mr. Cass made his appearance together with his sister to -see Mr. Heron. After some little talk about the fire, Geoffrey detailed -what had been confessed to him on the previous night. - -"How did it all come about?" he asked now. - -"That's what I want to know," said Inez. "Sebastian has told me nothing -beyond the bare fact as yet." - -"Because I want to tell the story once and for all, and then put it out -of my mind," said her brother, solemnly. "You see, Heron, my sister and -you both know all about this case. What you have told us about Jerry -Hutt's visit supplies the last link which brings the crime home to Mrs. -Jenner. I am not going to tell anyone else how the murder took place. -I have asked the governor and the chaplain not to tell Neil the truth -when he goes up for the funeral. He has had enough trouble, poor boy; -I, for one, do not want him to have any more. He believes now that his -mother is innocent----" - -"Oh, indeed!" interrupted Mrs. Marshall, with a haughty curl of her -lip. "And who does he believe guilty?" - -"Job, the gypsy. He thinks that the man set fire to the Turnpike House -and destroyed himself, so as to escape the penalty of his crime. I -think it only merciful that he should be allowed to remain under that -impression." - -"I quite agree with you," said Heron, heartily. "And you, Mrs. -Marshall?" - -She bowed her head. "I have no ill-will towards the young man, although -I hated his mother. But she has gone to her account, so I will say no -more about her. As to Neil Webster, as he calls himself----" - -"And will continue to call himself," interposed Mr. Cass, sternly. - -"I will say nothing to him," continued Mrs. Marshall, taking no notice -of this interruption. "I do not wish to visit the sins of the parents -upon the children; but with one parent murdered and the other parent -a murderess, I don't see how the young man can turn out well. And I -sincerely hope that he will not marry that unfortunate Jenny Brawn." - -"If he asks her to marry him, she will not accept him blindly," said -Mr. Cass, "for I intended to tell her the whole story--suppressing the -fact that Mrs. Jenner was guilty." - -"That is well," put in Geoffrey. "But I should like to hear the story -of Mrs. Jenner's crime." - -"I can tell it to you in a few words," said Mr. Cass. "The clerk's tale -has brought the story up to the time when Jenner flung himself on the -child. Well, Mrs. Jenner heard his cry, and rushed down into the room. -Jenner was mad with rage at the uncanny hatred shewn to him by his own -son, and had him by the hair of the head, shaking him as a terrier -does a rat. Mrs. Jenner rushed at him--she thought he would kill the -child--they struggled, and he struck her. While this was going on she -found herself near the table, and seeing the knife, blindly snatched -it up, throwing her husband to one side. Then, clutching the child to -her breast and holding out the knife to keep off the infuriated man, -she tried to make her escape from the house. But Jenner was blind with -fury, both against the child and against his wife who had instilled -such hatred into the mind of the boy. He rushed at her; she cried out -that she was holding the knife, but he took no notice of her, and ran -up against the blade, which buried itself in his heart. He fell, and -his wife fainted with the insensible child in her arms. It was when -she came to herself some time afterwards that she recalled what she -had done. But it was by accident that she had killed him--and this she -swore most solemnly; she denied that she had ever intended murder. Then -she fled from the house into the darkness until she fell insensible -under a hedge. The rest you know." - -Mrs. Marshall laughed again at this account. "I believe she killed him -on purpose," she said. - -"She had every reason to do it," Mr. Cass said, coldly, "but all the -same, I believe she has spoken the truth. Jenner died by accident." - -"If this is so," said Geoffrey, slowly, "and I see no reason to -disbelieve it, why did Mrs. Jenner tell Neil that she had killed his -father?" - -"I asked her that, and her answer was that she was afraid, if Neil -reopened the case, some evidence might be brought forward to prove that -she had really committed the murder. She had told her son that she was -innocent, and she did not wish him to learn the truth. It was only on -my giving a promise not to tell him that she consented to make the -confession. She wants him to think of her only as a mother who loved -him--not as a murderess." - -"Humph!" remarked Geoffrey, doubtfully. "A queer way of shewing her -love, to put it into the head of an imaginative neurotic creature like -Neil that he himself was guilty!" - -"It will not do him any harm," said Mr. Cass. "I don't pretend to say -that I approve of her clearing her own name at the expense of Neil's -peace of mind: but it is not for us to judge, and before she died she -repented of having made that statement." - -"Did she know how the red pocket-book was stolen?" asked Geoffrey, -abruptly. - -"No; she had been so busy struggling with Jenner for possession of the -child, she said, that she took no notice of anyone at the window. That -was why Jerry, as you say, was able to put his hand in and take the -book. It was lucky for the clearing-up of the case that Jenner had sewn -the bill inside the toy horse. If Roper had got hold of it, he would -have made it hot for Marshall. He hates him like poison on account -of----" - -"I have heard enough of that story," interrupted Mrs. Marshall, "and -you seem to forget, Sebastian, that if the bill had really been in the -pocket-book I should have got it through Job. I am tired of it all. I -hope it is all ended for ever." - -"Yes, Inez. You will hear no more about it. In a few days Mrs. Jenner -and her story will be buried, and we will all try and forget the past. -Neil must never know." - -"I shall not tell him." - -"Nor I," said Mrs. Marshall, with, for her, remarkable generosity. "No -one knows the truth but ourselves, and we will keep silence. What about -those poor wretches who have been burnt?" - -"Well, Geoffrey must tell how Jerry Hutt came to see him, and in some -way we must prove the remains to be his. After all, the corpse--what is -left of it--may not be Jerry!" - -"I think it is," said Heron. "Indeed, I am certain of it. I expect he -and Job got quarrelling about the bill, and Job set fire to the house -in order to burn them both. Jerry did not burn willingly, I am sure of -that. Job no doubt detained him in the burning house until it was too -late." - -Mrs. Marshall shuddered. Job, indeed, was wicked, as well she knew. But -now she was relieved from his blackmailing, and had only her husband -to deal with. And she resolved--now that she was in possession of the -bill--to make short work of him. Her thoughts still seemed inclined to -separation and the Romish Church. - -"Well, good-bye, Geoffrey," Mr. Cass said, shaking hands. "I hope -your ankle will soon be right. Ruth is coming over to see you. But, -remember, not a word to her." - -"Not a word," said the young man. "But I say, Cass, if I were you -I should burn that copy of the confession. The original, in the -possession of the authorities, will be sufficient to prove Mrs. -Jenner's guilt should anyone else be accused, which is not likely after -all. Burn it." - -"I intend to do so." And Mr. Cass dropped the document into the fire. -"I only brought it back so that you might be sure she was guilty. Ah, -it is in ashes already! I wish we could get rid of all our painful -memories so easily!" But to the end of my life I shall never forget -this case. And these were the last words they spoke on the subject, -for both Mr. Cass and Geoffrey ever afterwards carefully avoided all -mention of it. Nor was there even the Turnpike House to remind them of -the tragedy, for it had been burnt to the ground. And Mr. Heron had the -site ploughed and enclosed in the field adjoining; so that the next -year corn waved where the blood-stained habitation had stood. - -Mrs. Marshall carried out her intention of separating from her husband; -she gave him a portion of her money, and made him a present of the -forged bill, and he betook himself and his money to Paris. Neil -buried his mother and mourned her for many months. Then he made his -reappearance in public, and was more successful than ever. Now that -time was healing his wounds, he began to think about his future, and -the first thing he did was to ask Jennie Brawn to share it with him. -She, poor girl, accepted him with joy; and at once sent the good news -to Ruth. Mr. Cass thereupon went up to London, and called upon the -girl at his daughter's house, for she was still teaching Mrs. Chisel's -children. He told her the whole story, not thinking it fair that she -should marry Neil in ignorance of the truth. And at first she was -horrified; but declared that nothing could alter her determination to -marry him. - -"I love him," she said, and that was all. - - -* * * * * * * * * * * * * - - -The strange story of the burning of the two men, and that of the murder -which had taken place in the same house twelve years before is even now -often told by winter firesides. But few know the truth, that the mother -of Neil Webster, the famous violinist, was the guilty person in the -tragedy of the Turnpike House. The truth was disclosed to Mr. Cass, to -Geoffrey Heron, to Mrs. Marshall, and to the Governor of Gaol, and the -chaplain. But as for this story it is told with other names; and the -scene is laid fifty miles from the real locality. - - - -[THE END.] - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Turnpike House, by Fergus Hume - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TURNPIKE HOUSE *** - -***** This file should be named 55782.txt or 55782.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/7/8/55782/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page images published as -a serial on page 2 in the Cheshire Observer starting 18 -January 1902 -(http://newspapers.library.wales/view/4281236/4281238) and -ending with 26 April 1902 as provided on the internet by -Welsh Newspapers Online. - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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