WHAT MR. CASS HAD TO SAY.
Mr. Cass arrived home in a more cheerful frame of mind. His business,
whatever it was, had evidently prospered, and the look of anxiety which
his face had worn had given place to his usual imperturbable smile. He
was relieved, too, to hear that Amy had gone. Altogether, when, the
dinner hour arrived, Ruth found that he was as pleased as ever to be
alone with her.
"By the way, my dear," he said, after the dessert was placed on the
table and they had had some desultory chat, "we are about to have a
visitor."
"Geoffrey?" asked Ruth, eagerly. She was longing to see her lover again.
"No; Neil Webster. I have been to Bognor to see him. He is much better,
poor fellow, though still far from well. However, he is coming down
here, where he will be surrounded with more comfort than Mrs. Jent can
provide. Before long I hope he will be quite restored to health."
"I am glad he is coming, papa." She hesitated, and then continued in a
low voice: "Are you going to assist him?"
"I thought we had agreed to close that discussion, Ruth?" said her
father with some coldness. "Assist him? What can I do? I have told him
that I will endeavour to prove his mother's innocence, but I have not
much hope of success. Whatever you may say, Ruth, I believe the woman
is guilty."
"I think she is innocent," cried the girl, throwing back her head with
a look of defiance.
"I know you do. Well, if her innocence can be proved so much the
better. At present Neil has promised not to worry more than he can
help. I want to see him on his feet again, therefore he must have
cheerful company to distract his mind."
"Is that why you asked him down here?" asked Ruth, ironically. "I am
afraid his spirits will not rise in this house. Amy left it because she
found the dulness intolerable."
"Amy is a frivolous butterfly, my dear. I hope you have more sense. You
must do your best to amuse Neil, and above all you must say nothing to
him about this case. It is becoming a sort of monomania with him, and
his thoughts must be kept off it."
"In that case I shall get Jennie to amuse him," replied Ruth "for I
find it difficult not to become a monomaniac on the subject myself.
Besides, I want her to marry him."
Mr. Cass stroked his chin and did not appear to look unfavourably on
this proposal. "Neil might do worse," he said, after a pause. "Jennie
is a good little creature and will make him a very adaptable wife. You
would never have suited yourself to the boy. Geoffrey Heron is more in
your way, Ruth. He will be at once your husband and your master."
"So long as he is not a domestic tyrant I do not care. I am very, very
fond of Geoffrey, now that I have got over my foolish feeling for Neil.
I do wish Geoffrey would come to see me oftener."
At that moment, as if in answer to her words, a servant appeared with
a card, which he presented to his master. "Queer!" exclaimed Mr. Cass,
glancing at it through his eye-glass. "Here is the very man you want."
"Geoffrey!" she cried, joyfully.
"Yes; I wonder why he did not send me notice of his coming. He wants
to see me on business. Business!" he repeated, with a frown. "Humph! I
hope he has found no new mare's nest with your assistance."
"I have meddled no more with the case, papa, if that is what you mean,"
said Miss Cass. "But where is he?"
"In the library. I will see him first. You can talk to him afterwards."
"Ask him to stay, papa," said Ruth, following her father to the door of
the dining-room.
"Of course he can stay if he likes," Mr. Cass said, looking at his
daughter as if he were about to make some remark. However, he thought
better of it and hurried out. Ruth guessed that it had been in his
mind to say something about the unhappy affair in which they were
all interested. She was irritated at not being admitted into his
confidence, for her nerves were worn thin with the constant strain.
However, he had been quite determined to see Geoffrey alone; and all
she could do was to possess herself in patience until such time as the
conversation should have ended.
Meanwhile the two men were sitting opposite one another in Mr. Cass's
room. Geoffrey refused to have any dinner; he had dined before leaving
home, he said, but he did not decline a cigar and glass of good port.
Mr. Cass was at once convinced, from the expression of tragic gravity
on the young man's face, that he had something serious to say, and he
concluded that it had to do with the Jenner case. But he was not going
to commit himself by introducing the subject lest he might appear too
eager. He talked lightly on desultory matters and waited for Heron to
begin.
"Mr. Cass," he said, at last, "I have come to renew our former
conversation."
"Oh, the Jenner murder, I suppose?" Mr. Cass said, lightly. "I thought
as much; but I did not know that you intended to pursue the matter."
"Nor did I of my own free will," replied Geoffrey, coolly; "but
circumstances have thrust upon me fresh discoveries, and I want your
assistance."
Mr. Cass looked up sharply, and replied with studied carelessness: "Of
course I will do my best to help you, my dear fellow; but really I do
not see how I can."
"You will soon see when I have told you of my discovery," was the grim
answer. "About those links, you know----"
The merchant started and changed colour. "Ah!" he said. "Ruth told you?"
"Some time ago; but what she did not tell me, and what you did not
reveal, Mr. Cass, was that you were the owner of those links."
"How can you be certain on that point?" asked Mr. Cass, calmly. "What
have you found out to make you think that they--at any rate the broken
one Ruth got under the window of the Turnpike House--have anything to
do with me?
"I will tell you," he said, leaning forward and looking very directly
at his host. "You gave a portion of one of those links to your
granddaughter Mildred for her doll. I found the child crying because
Ruth had taken what she called a 'brooch' from her. At first I did not
connect it with the one Ruth had found, but when she described it I
guessed that it was part of the set; to make certain I shewed her the
one her aunt had picked up, and she recognised it at once as the double
of her brooch, with the difference in the design, of course. You did
not tell me of this, Mr. Cass.
"Why should I have told you?" Mr. Cass's tone was slightly defiant. "I
did give such a link to Mildred, and it was one of a set."
"Have you the set?" asked Heron. "Forgive my asking you, but I have a
good reason for doing so."
"I know what your reason is," replied the merchant, raising his voice;
"but you are wrong; I did not drop that link at the Turnpike House--I
did not murder Jenner!"
"Nothing was further from my mind," protested the young man. "You jump
to conclusions; my meaning was quite different."
The expression on Mr. Cass's face was one half of relief, half of
uneasiness.
"What do you mean, then?" he demanded. "I have a right to know."
"You shall know. It was in order to tell you that I came over this
evening. But first, have you the remaining links?"
Mr. Cass crossed the room to an old-fashioned desk which stood in a
corner, and began to search. In five minutes he returned to his seat by
the fire, bringing with him an oval enamelled with a pack of cards.
"That is all I have," he said. "Mildred has the one with the horse on
it; you have the other with the champagne bottle."
"And the ballet girl? Where is that one?" Mr. Cass was silent and
shifted uneasily in his chair. "That I cannot tell you until I know
more clearly what you have discovered."
"You shall know all. It may save a certain person from a relentless
enemy. Yes; you may look, Mr. Cass! I tell you there is one man who
hates another with all the intensity of his soul, and will only too
willingly do him an injury."
Mr. Cass began to grow angry at this mysterious description. "One
man--another man?" he repeated. "What do you mean? Who is the enemy?"
"Julian Roper."
"And who is he?" Heron looked at him in astonishment. If faces were to
be read, his host knew nothing of this man. "I am surprised that you do
not know who Roper is," he said, slowly.
"Why should I? I never even heard his name, that I can recollect. If he
has any grudge against me, I cannot understand the reason, seeing, as I
have said, that he is unknown to me."
"I did not say that he had a grudge against you."
"No, but you hinted as much. After all, I suppose I am the man who is
so well hated. At least, I can take your speech in no other way."
"I don't mean you at all. I allude to Marshall--your brother-in-law."
"Marshall!" Mr. Cass sprang to his feet and his face turned positively
grey; this time Geoffrey had no reason to complain of indifference: it
was plain that his host feared the revelation about to be made against
his sister's husband. "I don't quite understand," he said. "What has
Marshall----"
"I think you understand very well, Mr. Cass; and I can only wish that
during our last conversation you had spoken out. If you want the truth
in plain words, I say that Frank Marshall murdered Jenner at the
Turnpike House to recover a bill of exchange on which he had forged my
father's name."
"Stop! Stop!" cried Mr. Cass, dropping back into his seat. "What--what
grounds have you--such an accusation----"
"Is it not true?"
"Upon my word of honour, I cannot say."
"I think you can, Mr. Cass. You know that Mrs. Jenner is innocent and
that Marshall is guilty."
The merchant became vehement. "I cannot say that!" he cried, dashing
his fist on the table. "Because I don't know. I did suspect Marshall
myself--on certain grounds; but I knew nothing of this bill--I could
not fathom his motive. I was doubtful, and so I came to the conclusion
that Mrs. Jenner was the guilty person. I would have told you all this
before, Heron, but the honour of my family----"
"I hope to be one of the family myself, soon," Geoffrey said, quietly;
"and you cannot suppose that I am less anxious than you are to avoid a
scandal. I must know the truth now, at all costs."
"You shall know everything I can tell you. Oh, Heavens! If it should be
so--if he should be guilty! I could never be sure--never; or I would
have taken steps to get that unfortunate woman released; I did not want
her to suffer. In some way--without incriminating Marshall--I would
have managed it, if only I had been sure! But this bill--ah! that was
his motive, and I never knew! He did not tell me that. As to Roper, I
can assure you that this is the first time, to my knowledge, that I
have heard his name."
"Yet he discounted the bill. It was in his office that Jenner was
employed after he had failed on the stage."
"I took no interest in the man after I had dismissed him. I never even
heard his employer's name. He stole the bill, I suppose--ah, yes, I
begin to understand--and he came down here to blackmail Marshall. Quite
so. Great Heavens! Can he be guilty, after all? I'll have the truth out
of him at all costs."
"That is the difficult part of it," Geoffrey said, with a flush. "I
can make Marshall speak out, but I dread his confession. By rights, we
should give him up to the law--and yet the disgrace--the----"
"We must get at the truth first; afterwards we can decide how to get
the woman released, and how to punish my wretched brother-in-law. Tell
me what proof you have against him?"
Heron produced his pocket-book, and took therefrom the bill of
exchange, which he gave to Mr. Cass. He started, as though a snake had
stung him. "Forged?" he asked, placing his finger on the signature of
Geoffrey Heron. Then on a nod from that young man, he added: "Did you
find this among your father's papers? No; that is impossible. Jenner
must have had it on the night he was murdered; yet if Marshall killed
him to get possession of it, how came it into your hands?"
"Because Marshall lost the fruits of his wickedness he never gained
possession of this bill. Jenner was too clever for him; it seems, as I
learn from Mrs. Jenner, that she left him alone while she put her child
to bed. During that time he--fearing, no doubt, lest Marshall should
try and recover it--sewed it up in the body of a toy horse with which
his boy had been playing. Neil sent the horse to George Chisel, your
grandson, and he, as children will, cut up the animal. Miss Brawn saw
this paper among the stuffing, and gave it to me."
"Does she know? Has she said----"
"She knows nothing of the connection of this with the murder--and she
has said nothing for I made her give me her word that she would not. No
one but you, and I, and she are aware of its existence.
"Roper--what of Roper?"
"He knows nothing about it. If you knew how he hated Marshall, you
would be glad that he is ignorant. For he would certainly prosecute if
he got hold of this paper."
"I doubt if he could now, seeing that your father--who alone could give
evidence as to the falsity of the signature--is dead. But why does he
hate Marshall so bitterly?"
"Well, it appears that Roper had a daughter who fell in love with
him she would have married him, and he had given her every reason to
believe that he would. But, of course, he stopped at that, and she died
of a broken heart. I don't think there was anything scandalous about
the affair--nothing worse than the playing fast and loose with the
affections of the unhappy girl."
"He always was a scoundrel. I paid him a large sum to leave my firm,
as I feared he would do something criminal some day. Then he married
my sister. I begged her to give him up; but she was headstrong, and
insisted. Great Heavens!" he cried. "And he married her very shortly
after he had committed this crime. Yet I doubt very much if he would
have had the courage to kill Jenner."
"Will you tell me what led you to suspect him?"
"In the first place, from the circumstances of his return on that
night; in the second, these links."
"How is that? I should like to know all from the beginning."
"Well, Marshall was staying here on the night of the crime. He looked
out of sorts; but he made some excuse--I forget what. After dinner
he said he was going out for a walk; it was wet and misty, and I
tried to dissuade him. My sister had gone to bed with a headache. I
was alone, and, although I never liked him, I wanted to talk to him.
But he insisted upon going. About nine he returned, knocked at the
library window--that French window over there--and I let him in, torn
and muddy and wild with fear! He said that he had been set upon by
robbers--footpads. The next morning I heard of the murder, and I spoke
to him about it, but he swore that he had not seen Jenner."
"Tell me about the links. Are they yours?"
"Yes; I bought them many years ago, when I was young and vain. Marshall
saw them, and took a great fancy to them; so I gave him the set--and
now"--Mr. Cass clenched his hands--"I fear, if he got his deserts, that
they would hang him!"
And, quite overcome, he bowed his head on the table.