 CHAPTER XIII Job the Soprango In another week Ruth took leave of the delights of Brighton much to the regret of Mrs. Presser. A letter from Holly Oaks had advised her that Mrs. Chisell and her three children were down on a visit and that Jenny Braun, in the capacity of governess, was with them. After 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. Chisell 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 Chisell was at Holly Oaks she sent word that she would not enter her brother's house until it was purged of the presence of his eldest daughter. In reply to this amiable message Mrs. Chisell hoped her auntie-nez would not spoil her visit by coming over. Upon which Mrs. Marshall made a point of calling every other day and remarking openly and unfavorably upon her niece's management of her children. These comments were really quite undeserved for the three children whom Mrs. Chisell, insufficiently 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 grade 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. Just 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. Jeffrey Herron. What a fool you have made of yourself falling in love with that violin creature! She cried Mrs. Chisell 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 Chisell. And thank you, Amy, I have a right to choose a husband for myself. You are not fit to do so, remarked Mrs. Chisell with her customary tact. If you were a sensible girl you would marry Jeffrey Herron and take a good position in the county. I would not marry Mr. Herron 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 auntie Naz, 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 am the last person in the world to interfere, cried Mrs. Chisell. I think a girl should settle those things for herself. But I must say I should be happy if I saw you marry to Jeffrey Herron. In that case you'll live for many a long day yet. And Ruth made a hurried exit. This was one of many tips they had. In spite of Ruth's diplomacy, Amy would make trouble. So in despair, Miss Cass asked auntie Naz to come as often as possible, and the amiable lady knowing Amy did not want her to good care to come. So Ruth was left in peace. For when the battles were raging she generally took refuge with Jenny. One of the first things she did on meeting Miss Braun was to tell her all about Nail's troubles, that she had promised Jeffrey to say nothing about them did not matter to her. Where she was a woman and found it difficult enough to keep a secret, besides which she knew that Jenny 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 Jenny everything. Isn't it terrible, dear? She said when Miss Braun 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 Jeffrey 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 biased my judgment in any way. You must keep my secret, Jenny, until I have told my father. When he has consented, which I know he will do very willingly, Jeffrey 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, Jenny dear. Miss Braun colored. 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. Jenny 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 dare say 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'm going out now to make my grand discovery at the Turnpike House. And you, Jenny? 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 if you said a word to him. Now promise me, Ruth, that you will not interfere. Not without telling you. Oh, you stupid deer, 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 for my matchmaking for a time, Jenny. I'm glad of that. You are so impetuous, you know. Mrs. Cass laughed and with a nod took her departure. Mrs. Chisell 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 chaperone, but then Ruth is so headstrong. And Mrs. Chisell 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 traveled through Tibet 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 beeline for her destination right across country. She passed through fields and clambered over hedges. She slipped along by path, 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 cold 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 aside glance of admiration at her. Duval, 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 in the tent of the Romany. I'm no gorgeo 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, wine the man! Were 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. One and girl surveyed each other in silence. What is your name? Ruth asked coolly. Job, he said, I belong to the levels I do, and I'm a sapangro 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 angro 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 level. 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 Kalo-Jib. I took a fancy to learn your tongue, and I learned it from a gypsy. I knew Lurian, Dukkarippin, Hakkarippin, 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 somber tone, still looking at her. Soon I shall be in the earth with my sap, my only friend. You had better go to Holly Oaks and get some food. Holly Oaks? He repeated, fixing his shining eyes on this, to him, very extraordinary gentile lady. Do you live there? Is your name Kass? Yes, I am the daughter of Mr. Kass of Holly Oaks. Do well, 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 a nont. She is not Romany. Mrs. Marshall? No, she knows nothing of the Kalo-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 sap, my gorgeous gentile lady? Ugg, no. She recoiled with a shriek from the wriggling reptile. Take the nasty thing away. He stared and thrust it again into his bosom. Oh, 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 Holly Oaks and get some food. Duvel, he cried quickly. I am for the road. My hunger is great. Farewell, sister, I shall see you again. And he swung off with a hacking cough, sharing 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 Jeffery 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 enameled thereon with exquisite art. On the other side was a catch which proved that the oval had formed part of a cufflink. 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. Fancy my finding it after all these years. The rain from the eaves as they did bear. 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 14 The Clairvoyant If Ruth had but gone carefully through the deserted Hubble, she would have made yet another discovery. Her instinct had not played her fast 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 enameled 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 jewelry. 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 Jeffrey. 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 so 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 as 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 the thing of such ghastly associations. It was her own fault. She had forgotten that it wasn't that drawer when she had told the children that they might play with her chiffons. What 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 could have been drawing the vehicle but no horse was to be seen. Where is your Gigi? Cope's Aunt Ruth. Gone to grass, list George, who was precocious beyond telling. You bring him back from grass, Georgey, 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. Dubbin is ill. He is in the paddock, was all 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 on her way, hoping to learn something from Mrs. Garvey about the broken link. Mrs. Garvey was a thin, pale woman who practiced 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 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 bear 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 bear 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 a 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 Gazz 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 gender 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 shutter. 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. Faulted, 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 than 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 Jeffrey 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 Jeffrey 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 a fusion 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 that Jeffrey 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 defense. 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, and then she forbade him to reopen 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, Jeffrey, 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, Jeffrey said when she had finished. I think the next step is to show 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 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 Sopengro 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 Levengro. Then they dropped the subject and were busy talking of themselves and their prospects when Mrs. Chisel glided into the room and Jeffrey 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 enameled 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, grand-papa gave me that brooch, replied the child. End of chapters 13 and 14. Chapters 15 and 16 of The Turnpike House by Fergus Hume. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 15, 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 weedled 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 enameled 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 Jeffrey 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 said 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 offered advice and blame her for having made herself ill in some way which Mrs. Chisel herself would have avoided. Then in came Jenny 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 Bronson Queries. All I want is a good night's rest. In the morning I shall be myself again. And with this answer Jenny had to be content. Left to herself, Ruth began herself communings. It crossed her mind that her father who had always been a great admirer of beauty might have been attracted to 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 this 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 Jenny Braun as governess. I do not say she does not do her best, she said magnanimously, but oh dear me, Jane Braun, so she invariably referred to Jenny, has no more idea of teaching than a hot and taut. I know how the things 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 are only a child. Children are much sharper than their elders give them credit for. I was ten years of age when Miss Lawrence left and quite old enough to see through her designs. Miss Lawrence, 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 minks, ah, well, it does not do to talk of these things. I see, said Ruth, taking the bull by the horns. Miss Lawrence was pretty, Papa was weak and Mama. 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 Mama 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 minks and made eyes at Papa. I saw something of that and 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 Lawrence 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 10 o'clock. As a rule he saw her only for an hour in the drying 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. Gent 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 only 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 Jeffrey says, Heron, he rose to his feet. What is he to do with all this? He is a friend of Niels, and? A friend of Niels? 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 Jeffrey is nursing Niel at Bognor and Mrs. Jenner's house? He is, then. And Jeffrey wrote telling you that he was abroad and Niel, too, to keep you away from Bognor. Mr. Cass stood as though he had 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 Jeffrey 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 Aaron'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 Aaron 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 on my doing nothing more. The matter is in Jeffrey'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 tears. This train 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 it was 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 show 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 Jeffrey 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'm 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 Niels' 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 Jenny Braun makes a discovery. The next day Mr. Cass informed Ruth that Jeffrey 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 there 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 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 you're 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 write 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 Jeffrey'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 Jeffrey 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 Jeffrey 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 Jeffrey off to the library. He particularly wanted to have a few words alone with him, he said. Aaron 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 Holly Oaks saying he had an important subject to discuss with him. And it had passed through Jeffrey'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 gender 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, Aaron 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, dryly. 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, Aaron, exactly how Ruth found it out? Not knowing that Mr. Cass wished to compare his story with Ruth, Jeffrey willingly consented and informed him of Ruth's visit to Mrs. Gent and how the outcome of it all, so far as he was concerned, had been the 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 Jeffrey. He decided to give her up when he learned 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's 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 a 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 a knife. His memory recommends 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 this 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 pocketbook 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 guards. They were known as the Four Vices. What does Mrs. Jenner say about this? She cannot think who could have warned them. She says she never saw such a set before. Had Jeffrey 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 Jeffrey. Ah, said the merchant significantly. I am not astonished. Jenner was a clerk in my office and as thorough 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 pocketbook, which he flourished in her face, he had the materials for getting money. Now that pocketbook 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 pocketbook, 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 pocketbook. 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, Jeffrey 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 Jenny Braun playing with little George Chisell 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 colors 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 it 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 showed 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 Jeffery, staggering back his ready-faced pale. It cannot be. What is the matter, Mr. Heron? Are you ill? Has the child rising? No, I'm 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 Jenny Braun 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, Ms. Braun? 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 recognized 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 Jenny put into his hand a bill of exchange, old, discolored and crumpled. Hardly knowing what he was doing, Heron glanced at the document and saw that his father's signature, Jeffrey Heron, was written across the bill while the signature at the foot was that of Frank Marshall. End of chapters 15 and 16. Chapter 17 and 18 of The Turnpike House by Fergus Hume. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 17. 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 Jeffrey 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 patronizing the clerk on account of the man's beautiful voice and musical accomplishments. Marshall, too, lived a gay life and was giving 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. 500 pounds, said Jeffrey, looking at the document in question. Huh, 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 pocketbook. The pocketbook has disappeared, but the bill. Hmm, how did he get it 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 Marshal had been the forger. He had drawn the bill that was true, but Jenner might have counterfeited the signature and have assisted Marshal to get the money. Then Jeffrey 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 Marshal's rascality, for it was plainly set down that a certain Mr. Roper had called upon him to show 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 whereupon Roper had intimated that the bill had been presented by Frank Marshal and that the money had been paid to him. Roper had also expressed his intention of having Marshal arrested, but to this Mr. Heron had objected. Bad as he thought the man, he wanted to avoid any serious trouble, less for Marshal's own sake than for that of Miss Inez-Gaz 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 Marshal at his house near Holyoke and told him what had happened. Then Marshal 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 Gaz's heart, he said, and Mr. Heron, pitting 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 500 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, Jeffrey said to himself as he put away the books, oh, this is quite plain, it seems that Mr. Frank Marshal is a pretty scoundrel and there is no doubt that this bill is the blackmailing document referred to by Jenner. Now, I wonder if Marshal 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 Marshal thought it was in the red pocketbook and stole that after he had killed him. That was why the pocketbook disappeared. Probably Marshal himself destroyed it. Huh, I've 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, Jeffrey paid a visit to the jail where Mrs. Jenner was serving her life's 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. Jeffrey 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 Jeffrey'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 West Ham 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. Marshall? 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 Messinez 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 Messinez 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 groveled at his feet. Her infatuation was the talk of all West Ham at the time I was starving at the Turnpike House. Extraordinary! Muse Jeffery. 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, Jeffery 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. Poor 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 Harren 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 saved 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 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 get to the truth of it all. If Marshall will confess his guilt, I will consult 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. Jeffrey 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, Jeffrey departed to follow up the clue. Chapter 18 The Moneylender Mr. Julian Roper had an establishment in Golden Square, Soho. Although this gentleman was over eighty, he had not yet repented of his many inequities but callously continued to conduct his evil transactions. His offices, two dingy rooms, were on the ground floor of the house, the apartment's overhead being occupied by himself, and a crabid 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. Hut was her name, and she had a son who acted as clerk to Julian. When Jeffrey 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 Hut, gave Mr. Heron a broken back 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 Jeffrey 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! Jeffrey, taking no notice of his brusque manner, passed into the back room. It was better lighted and better furnished than a clerk's den. Still, it was sorted 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. Ah, hey! he said, this being the way in which he was accustomed to begin a conversation. Mr. Heron, ah, yes, Mr. Jeffrey Heron, quite so. I knew your father, a good man, Mr. Heron, but strong in his expressions. Jeffrey took this to mean and very rightly, too, that his father had expressed himself in no measured terms as to the money-lenders professional transactions. But he made no comment, merely remarking that he had come to see Mr. Roper on business. Ah, 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 hotly, 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. Ah, 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 Jeffrey. The man started and plucked at his nether lip. Ah, 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. Jeffrey 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. Jeffrey sat down again. He was beginning to see his way to the successful management of this old gentleman. It's a long story, he said, slowly keeping his eyes fixed on the avaricious face of the user. 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 black guard. The one implies the other, Heron said dryly, if all I have heard of you is true. Now, sir, don't you come lie bullying me, whimpered the user, 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 shown 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 attempted dignity which held 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 Jeffrey 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, Jeffrey. Oh, give it to me if you can. I want to see that Marshal in jail, with hard labour, hard labour. He repeated with evident relish. My dear gentlemen, 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 Marshal. 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. Oh, 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 user's eyes. Those hard eyes which had remained dry whilst looking upon much deliberately created misery. He wiped them now with a 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 Marshal? Jeffrey 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 Marshal? 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 Marshal? 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 userer with a frightful energy. If Marshal is to get into trouble, I am the man to assist. He broke my else'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 Marshal's behavior to his daughter, was in the mood to be confidential. He would get all that 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 scam, he said. He was in my employment before Jerry grew up to assist me. I took him off the street, 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 dare say, your father, worthy man, would no doubt tell you. Yes, Jenner took the bill, just when I thought I had Marshal in the palm of my hand. Ah, that was a blow! I would have given hundreds to have kept that bill, to have lodged Marshal in jail. 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 Jeffrey deliberately. He saw that the honor 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, Jeffrey 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 clear 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 is the pity. I'll never get at him now, the beast. Jeffrey rose to go. Well, he said, I have learned something. But I hardly know if it will be of much assistance to me. What are you going to do? asked Roper. 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. End of Chapter 17 and 18