 CHAPTER 27 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 it, gave his horse to his groom, and told the man to take him home. "'I have to see the Gypsy,' he exclaimed. I find he is here without Mr. Heron's permission. I shall probably remain some time, and I don't want Salton to get cold. Go home.' "'Yes, sir,' said the man, and then ventured to add a few words on his own account. "'Shun't I wait, sir? Joe Lovell 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 Holly Oaks, 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 Joe 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 rim, dies, 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.' "'Gold 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. "'It isn'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. "'I, my gorgeous Gentile, bigger folk, nor the poor Romany.' This was plainly a threat leveled 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 middles,' he said. "'But perhaps he 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 doorpost. "'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 opened mouth that 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 onto 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.' "'Ah, ha, ha, you touched 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 gaffe.' "'Precisely. And it should have been blown long ago.' "'You black-mailing 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 ankle's accent. "'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 Ms. 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 at her app 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 the quiet answer. "'Understand that I have sufficient evidence in my possession to have you arrested on suspicion of having murdered the man-gener. 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 marveled 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 show it to me.' "'I will not. Why should I?' "'You cannot show it to me, I thought as much.' "'Hey, you think so, right? 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 plate and that he had now very little hold, with still some over Mrs. Marshall. "'It is the truth. The bill was taken out of that pocketbook 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, Honorable Rye?' He asked in fawning tones, for he wanted to propitiate the man who could make a trap 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 pocketbook? Did you snatch it through this window of 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 pocketbook 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 before I met Mrs. Marshall. I was sleeping behind a hedge, and I heard Marshall and Jenner jarring. I listened and heard all. When they parted, I thought I'd drop 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 wagon-respond, 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 vise 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'd go after Jenner and get the bill for Marshall's sake. "'Why for Marshall's sake?' asked Mr. Cass coldly. "'Cause I heard she was going to be his Ranny. 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 window 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 how could you see in the dark?' remarked Mr. Cass sarcastically. "'What did it matter?' Job said surly. 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 bail 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 shore the bail, 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. Kass 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. Kass 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 tussled 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 kill Jenner to get that pocketbook, but the lady 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, learned 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 feelers,' 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.' "'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. That 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 28 The Unexpected Happens Jeffrey was at Holy Oaks 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 pocketbook 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, Jeffrey, 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 had 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. Tomorrow 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, Jeffrey.' "'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, Jeffrey, Ruth will see you tomorrow. She is not very well. In fact, she had rather a severe shock today.' This gun-founded 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 pocketbook. "'I thought you would say that,' said Mr. Cass dryly. "'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 pocketbook 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 Jeffrey 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 humor, 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 smelled terribly of petroleum. I dare say 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 an 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 tomorrow 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 shone in, a creature which smirked and grinned and rolled its head in a half-witted way. Jeffrey 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, humoring 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 Jeffrey, the latter could see very clearly. It was a noble piece of gold adorned with the enamored 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 Jeffrey knew that the underfootman, a strapping young giant, was waiting outside in case Mr. Hutt might be compelled to make a too hasty exit. "'Well, Mr. Hutt,' said Jeffrey, 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. You're errant, 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,' Jeffrey 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. Least ways, neither mother nor master said. Hold your tongue, Jerry. I can say this much, that master wants to be up-sides 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. Ah, she was a beauty, and he broke her heart. "'I hope to have made her Mrs. Jerry Hutt,' he added with a sob. But that wicked Mr. Marshall, he had put her 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.' "'Uh,' 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 breast-pin, 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 am 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 breast-pin. "'You can have it.' He threw it to Heron. "'I don't want to be put in jail, 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.' End of Chapter 27 and 28 Chapter 29 and 30 of the Turnpike house by Fergus Hume This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 29 The End of the Turnpike house Perhaps had Heron attacked Jerry less suddenly, and had he not shuned 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 Jeffrey turned him inside out like a glove. The story which Heron extracted from the whimpering creature was what 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 said 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 pocketbook. 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 West Ham. In one way or another the spy kept himself out of sight for Jenner, having been Roper's clerk, knew the lad as he was then. 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 dared go inside lest he should see me. Didn't you lose him in the mist? Asked Jeffrey, who was listening eagerly. I never lose anything, sir, returned Jerry. I can see anywhere and falter like a dog. You don't slip me. I've had enough faltering to do for the master. Well, Jenner, he goes to a large pool of water. The wagon respond, go on. Oh, that's it, is it? I never knowed. Well, there he meets with Mr. Marshall. Oh, I knowed 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 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 shoot 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 follow Jenner but I thought the other, Marshall, would have spot me. I didn't mind though as I knowed 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 knowed 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 I signed the miss two men fighting. Marshall and Job thought Heron, then allowed, go on. I thought if someone else might be after the red book so I was going to run forward when one cove he's left 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 cast 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? Jeffrey asked, thinking his explanation perfectly feasible. I only lost one, the champagne bottle, said Jerry quite gravely, because there was a hole in my pocket I knowed nothing of. The other I took home and got made into a pin. I never know till you spoke where I lost the one. Was it under the Turnpike window? he inquired. It was found there, assented Harron. 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 following 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 pocketbook with the bill. Jenner was talking to himself and cursing some child. Poor Neil, muttered Harron. 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 see 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, least ways it looked like it, but I didn't wait. But I didn't wait. I saw my chance and grabbing the pocketbook I ran like a deer. I did. Just as I got a little way off, a cove jumped out on me and caught at 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 pocketbook? Didn't you know who robbed you? No, I wish I had known. I'd have got the book next week when the talk of the murder was passed. But the master got a scare from that, though I told him as I told 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 know, 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? Lord know, sir, cried Jerry, amazed. A weak little thing like that. Besides, the kid hadn't the knife. It was on that 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 tomorrow morning. I must know tonight. The master wants me back tonight. He can't have you, then, said Heron Dryly. You stay here tonight. 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 Jeffrey, and Jeffrey 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. Conn found this foot. If I were only able to walk. Oh, I'll keep you, Mr. Hut. We haven't done with each other yet. Jerry's cunning came suddenly to his aid, and he ceased struggling. If you give me grab 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 Jeffrey, sharply, and Jerry Hut soon found himself locked in and outshed 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. Herman'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 onto 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 turn-bike, 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. Herman 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 realized 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, screamed 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. Hut was terrified, but he could see no means of escape. Have a drink, shouted Job, thrusting the bottle under Mr. Hut'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 shoe up her husband if she don't. Drink, drink, or I'll kick you. Partly to avert the carrying out of his 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 Hut, 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 Mr. Marshall, who killed my poor dear Miss Elsa. Job, half stupid with drink, had yet the sense to gather the meaning of the words. Blast 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 isn't it, and I'll buy it off you. Oh, yes, I will, fifty pounds. Job banked 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 fires streaming towards the sky, saw two men vaguely struggling in the flames. Chapter 30 The Truth At Last It is not impossible, said Jeffrey 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. Harren's library. I have told you several times, Jeffrey, 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 jail. 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 Jeffrey 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 Jeffrey'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, Jeffrey 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 Ines. Sebastian has told me nothing beyond the bare fact as yet. Because I want to tell this 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 murder as, I don't see how the young man can turn out well. And I sincerely hope that he will not marry that unfortunate Jenny Braun. 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 Jeffrey, 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 shown 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 faded with the insensible child in her arms. It was when she came to herself sometime 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 Jeffrey slowly, and I see no reason to disbelieve it, why did Mrs. Jenner tell Neil that he 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. Oh, remarked Jeffrey doubtfully. A queer way of shooing 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 pocketbook was stolen? Asked Jeffrey 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 already been in the pocketbook I should have got it through Joe. I am tired of it all. I hope it has all ended forever. Yes, he nears. 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, Jeffrey 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 Harron. Indeed, I am certain of it. I expect he and Job got quarreling 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 romance church. Well, good-bye, Jeffrey, 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 an 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 Mr. Cass and Jeffrey 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 plowed 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 Jenny Braun 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. Chisell'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 12 years before is 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 Jeffrey Herron, to Mrs. Marshall, and to the governor of jail and the chaplain. But, as for this story, it is told with other names, and the scene is laid 50 miles from the real locality. End of chapters 29 and 30. The End of the Turnpike House by Fergus Hume. Recorded by Céline Meijor.