CHAPTER 19 Job becomes civilized. Again and again did Miss Gass wish that she could tell Jenny Braun the story of the broken link and her position with regard to her father. But she had given her promise and was forced to hold her tongue. On her part Jenny always open and honest felt a trifle embarrassed of the secret understanding with Jeffrey Herron regarding the bill of exchange it seemed to her too delicate perception to be wrong for was not the young man her friends love her. But like Ruth herself Jenny had given a promise which could not be broken and she too had to hold her peace. Under these circumstances both girls were less open with each other than usual and on this account did not seek one another as was formerly the case. Jenny made her teaching serve as an excuse and Ruth took to wandering about the country in the society of her own sad thoughts. She had promised her father to refrain from further meddling with the Jenner case but she did not think that this bound her to abstain from visiting the Turnpike house and she was always finding herself in the neighborhood of that ill-olment building. It held the secret of a crime. Several times Ruth had noticed smoke rising from its chimney. She began to think from the recurrence of this phenomenon that some tramp had taken up his abode in the deserted building. Full of nervous apprehension lest the said tramp should find something in the house likely to connect her father with the crime Ruth had more than once made up her mind to see who it was that occupied the Hubble. But on each occasion her courage failed her at the last moment. But one day she screwed up her courage and set out to visit the Turnpike house. She would, asked to risks, if any other piece of evidence connected with the crime had been discovered and if so ascertain who was the finder. As she approached she could see that although the house still looked dilapidated and disreputable in its green jungle some attempt had been made to render it fit for human habitation. The windows had been mended, the door repaired and the roof patched in various places. Ruth walked boldly up the path now trotting down by the footsteps of the new owner and after a glance at the closed door looked in at the window. This was guiltless of blinds or curtain and she could see quite plainly what was going on inside. To her surprise the first person she saw was her auntie Nez seated by the fire and talking eagerly to Job who was astride a chair beside her. The gypsy turned his head rapidly as the shadow of the girl lengthened by the sun fell across the floor and he uttered an exclamation of mingled surprise and vexation. Mrs. Marshall looking up at that moment beheld her niece, the very last person she expected or indeed desired to see in that place.  However there was nothing left for it now but to make the best of the situation so before Ruth had time to recover from her astonishment auntie Nez had passed quickly to the window and had thrown it wide open. Goodness Ruth! Why do you come in that silent way to frighten people?  Ruth struggled to recover from her surprise. I am astonished to see you here auntie Nez, she said when she had found her tongue. I did not know you were acquainted with Job. He is a pensioner of mine, Mrs. Marshall said, composedly, preparing to shut the window. Are you coming in, Ruth? We can walk back together. You know I do not approve of your roaming the country in this uncivilized fashion. It seems I am only following your example, Ruth said pertly. I am a married woman. And Job's patroness remarked Ruth who was too much annoyed by her aunt's manner to be careful. Mrs. Marshall flashed at her a look which bowed a dill for the harmony of their future relations. Yes, I am looking after the poor man. There is nothing wrong in that, I hope. On the contrary, said her niece, and went towards the door. It was opened by Job who during this interview had been most discreetly silent. He winked at the girl, not rudely, but to intimate that he still looked upon her as a Romany sister and ushered her into the room. Mrs. Marshall had resumed her seat by the fire and pointed out the other chair to her niece. Job lent up against the table and regarded the two with a twinkle in his dark eyes. Evidently he anticipated some amusement. Have you been here before, Ruth? asked the elder lady sharply. Once, I was curious to see the place. On account of the murder, I suppose, replied Mrs. Marshall with contempt. Really, Ruth, I do wonder that you should care to concern yourself with such horrors. And why do you come here again? To see Job was the quiet answer. Me and the lady are pals. Put in Job. Oh, yes, she can patter the black tongue and she is a real Romany sister. Perhaps, Ruth, you will explain, said Mrs. Marshall, both puzzled and annoyed. I think Job has already done so, Ruth said, coolly. I met him here by accident when last I came and I talked Romany to him. He has taken me as a sister of the Gypsy folk. I am a female borough. Ruth, haughtiness threw up her hands in horror.  A so Gypsy, a tramp, and you a young lady. And, pray, where did you learn the Gypsy language? At school and out of it, I got a Gypsy woman to teach me. But I do not see why you should forbid me to associate with Job, aunt.  I exclaimed that lady was something of defiance in her manner. But I have taken this poor man under my protection and I intend to make him comfortable. Ruth did not reply immediately. Then she looked up. Last time I was here you watched me auntie-nez, she said slowly. Perhaps I did. Perhaps I did not, replied that lady coldly. She scorned to tell a lie and refused to own the truth. Then you know what I found here, under the window. Job looked up eagerly and exchanged a glance with Mrs. Marshall. But that clever lady preserved an imperturbable countenance. What you found, my dear, is of no consequence to me, she said impatiently and rose to her feet. It is more to the purpose that we should be going. I will arrange about your weekly money, she said, turning to Job. Thank you, lady, said the Gypsy, gratefully.  I won't trouble you long, though. I'm booked before the year is out. Ruth lingered for she wanted to speak to the man alone, but her aunt hurried her away and the last glimpse she had of him was standing in the doorway laughing in anything but a respectful manner.  But such was not the case. Her curiosity was stronger than her prudence. Besides, after the smile she had seen on Job's face she began to doubt her aunt's plausible explanation. Unfortunately Mrs. Marshall escorted her niece right up to the gates of Hollyoaks Park. But she refused to go in. I have left my carriage at the inn, she said, and as your uncle is not very well I must go home at once. I hope you will come and see us, Ruth. You are neglecting me very much. I will come with pleasure, aunt. Will next week do? Any week will do. I am always at home, except on an occasion like this when I am employed in charitable works. I shall expect you next week. When her aunt had gone Ruth waited until she was out of sight, then took a shortcut across the meadows to the turnpike house. Within the hour she again presented herself at the door. It was open so suddenly that she felt sure that Job had been watching her and his greeting proved that such was the case.  He said, come into my tent. You well, that a Romany should dwell under a roof-tree like a Gorgio. It is better for your health than wandering about the roads, said the girl sitting down. I am dying, interrupted Job quietly, and I am not the man to decay like a tree. If I find that I can never recover I will die after my own fashion. I am not afraid. Ruth did not know what reply to make to this. She glanced round hoping to find a fresh topic of conversation. You are comfortable here, quite civilized. I am sure that you will get better now that you are so well housed. I do not think so, lady, but I yielded to Mrs. Marshall's request to take shelter here. One place is as good as another to die in. She is good to me. I have this house and a little money to buy food. Why is she so kind? asked Ruth sharply. Such kindness is not in her nature. Have you done her a good turn? Perhaps I have. Maybe I have not, Job said coolly. See here, sister, I knew you would come back to ask questions. I saw it in your eye. But I know when to keep my mouth shut.  Well, I have no wish to pry into your secrets, Job. Keep your own counsel. I intend to, replied the man. And it is a good thing for your family that I do. What do you mean? Nothing that I can tell you. Job, Ruth looked at him sharply, are you hinting at any disgrace? No. What disgrace could be for so noble a family? I hold my tongue. Because you are paid for it, retorted Ruth. Already her wits were at work trying to search out the reason for all this. She sent it a mystery and began vaguely to connect it with the Jenner case. Half in jest, half in earnest, she asked a leading question. Do you know anything of this murder? No. Do well. I should think not. It was before my time. Yet I wonder you are not afraid to sleep in this room. It was here that the body was found. Job laughed and stared at the restrains on the floor near the window. Yes, it was here, he said. But I know nothing. You know what I found last time I came to this place, she said, recalling the glance exchanged between her aunt and the gypsy. Perhaps, replied Job, then he began to laugh.  You would rob me of my new tent by asking me to speak about what does not concern you. Ah, then you have something to conceal. Perhaps, said Job again. But you may as well stop, sister. I hold my peace until I die. Ruth looked at him fixedly. By this time she felt quite sure that the secret which procured for Job food and fire and roof-tree was connected with the murder. What you know has nothing to do with Mr. Cass, with my father. She asked in a low voice. No, no, on my soul it has not, he said earnestly. Why do you think so, sister? Has it anything to do with the murder? I cannot tell you. You need not, for I can see the truth in your face. Tell me this, do you know what I found under that window? He looked at her. Yes, I know. He said softly and refused to speak another word. 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. All together, when the dinner-hour arrived, Ruth found that he was 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. Jeffery 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. Jenton 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. Here 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 dullness 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 Jenny to amuse him, replied Ruth, for I find it difficult not to become a monomania on a subject myself. Besides, I want her to marry him. Mr. Cass stroked his chin and did not appear to look unfavorably on this proposal. Neil might do worse, he said, after a pause. Jenny is a good little creature and will make him a very adaptable wife. You would never have suited yourself to the boy. Jeffrey 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 Jeffrey, now that I have got over my foolish feeling for Neil. I do wish Jeffrey 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. Jeffrey! 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. Hum! I hope he has found no new mayor'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 on 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 Jeffrey 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. Jeffrey refused to have any dinner. He had dined before leaving home, he said, but he did not decline a cigar and a 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.  He talked lightly on the sultry 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 Jeffrey Cooley, 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 merchants started and changed color. 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 God 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 showed her the one her aunt had picked up and she recognized 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 jumped to conclusions. My meaning was quite different. The expression on Mr. Cass's face was one of half 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 enameled 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.  Mr. Cass began to grow angry at this mysterious description.  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 Marshal, your brother-in-law. Marshal? Mr. Cass sprang to his feet and his face turned positively gray. This time, Jeffrey 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 Marshal? 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 Marshal 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 to his seat. What, what grounds have you? Such an accusation. Is it not true? Upon my word of honor, I cannot say. I think you can, Mr. Cass. You know that Mrs. Jenner is innocent and that Marshal 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 Marshal 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 honor of my family. I hope to be one of the family myself soon, Jeffrey 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 Marshal, I would have managed it, if only I had been sure. But this bill... Oh, 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 Marshal. 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, Jeffrey said with a flush. I can make Marshal 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 there from 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 Jeffrey 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 Marshal killed him to get possession of it, how came it into your hands? Because Marshal lost the fruits of his wickedness, he never gained possession of this bill. Jenner was too clever for him. It seems, as I learned from Mrs. Jenner, that she left him alone while she put her child to bed. During that time he, fearing no doubt, lest Marshal shall try and recover it, sewed it up in the body of a toy horse with which his boy had been playing. Nios sent the horse to George Chisel, your grandson, and he, as children will, cut up the animal. Miss Bronn saw this paper among the stuffing and gave it to me. Does she know, as 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 a roper! He knows nothing about it. If you knew how he hated Marshal, 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 this signature, is dead. But why does he hate Marshal 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.  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, foot-pads. 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 in 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 desserts that they would hang him. And quite overcome he bowed his head on the table. CHAPTER XXI RUTH IS COMFORTED Presently Mr. Cass raised his head and looked at Jeffrey with such a woe-begone expression that the young man started. It seemed as if the merchant had grown suddenly old. Lines appeared on his face which had never been there before. His eyes were sunken, and his shoulders had bowed themselves as though the whole weight of his misery had been placed upon them. The transformation was at once startling and painful. Don't take it so much to heart, said Heron. After all, we may both be wrong about Marshall. I hope so. I trust so, was the horse reply. But if he is guilty, what am I to think of myself? I had a suspicion on the grounds of which I have told you. Yet here I have allowed an innocent woman to spend all these years in jail, when that scoundrel should have been in her place. As to that you could hardly have accused your sister's husband. He was not married to her at the time. If I had insisted upon an explanation that night when he came in torn and dirty at yonder window, I might have prevented the marriage. I do not think that even the mad love that Ines had for him would have stood such a test. But Mrs. Jenner held her tongue when she should have spoken out, so I had no clue. Even if she had spoken out she could have done nothing. She was silent because she fancied that Neil and his madness had killed his father. She never suspected Marshall. But retrospection can do no good. The thing is done, and what we have to consider now is how best to get out of it. If Marshall is guilty he must give us a written confession and leave the country without our connivance. What purpose would it serve to have him suffer at this stage? Besides, from all I have heard from Mrs. Jenner her scamp of a husband quite deserved his fate. Marshall's confession would set her free. At the cost of publicity, burst out Mr. Cass. How, three asterisks, disgrace, Heron! Think of my sister, of Ruth, of Amy, my married daughter. It would mean ruin to the mall. And you, how could you marry into such a family? Oh, as to that I am not afraid to face the world. I should be a mean hound if I were to visit Marshall's sins on Ruth. Whatever happens you may be certain that Ruth will be my wife and that she will receive from me all the love and affection due to so charming and honest a girl. Thank you, Heron. He grasped the young man's hand. But, exclaimed the younger man, as to Marshall, when we know the truth for certain we will decide how to act. Above all, we must not be in a hurry. You say you gave the links to him. I did, and what is more, he wore them on that night. I remember his calling my attention to them at dinner. Huh! Then he alone could have lost that one at the Turnpike house. I suppose you did not notice if one was missing from his cuff when he came into this room. No, I never gave the matter a thought. There was no reason why I should. I believed that he had been attacked by gypsies. You know how many there are always about these lonely roads. An assault of that nature would have been quite enough to account for the mud on his clothes and their torn condition. I never thought he had met Jenner. Was there bad blood between them? Well, I am not quite sure. It seems that Marshall had persecuted Mrs. Jenner with his attentions, but her husband was not of the sort to take any trouble about that. He and Marshall had been boon companions for a long time. Whether they parted on account of some row I don't know, but one thing is clear, that Jenner saw Marshall again when Marshall called on Julian Roper to discount that bill and finding that it was a forgery stole it to come down here and blackmail his former friend. How could he find out that it was a forgery? Oh, very easily. Roper might have talked, or Jenner might have listened. At all the bents he knew the truth. I suppose they met that night at the Turnpike House. No, said Heron, suddenly recollecting his conversation with the dead man's widow. Jenner had seen Marshall before he came to the Turnpike House. Of course Marshall might have followed him and watched him through the window, then seeing the pocketbook, which he suppose would contain the bill, he might have killed him and cleared off. But this Marshall must tell us. That's if he can be made to tell. I'll force it out of him, Mr. Cass said grimly. Those sleeve-links, for instance. He has to explain how he came to lose one at the Turnpike House. I remember after Marshall went away from here the housemaid brought me the pair enameled with the pack of cards and the horse which she said Mr. Marshall had left in his room. I thought he must be tired of them and that he had probably taken the other pair with him by mistake. So I put those he had left into my desk and I thought no more about it. When Mildred wanted a roach for her doll I separated them and gave one to the child, the one with the horse. The one with the pack of cards I left on my table, intending to give it to Ethel. I have the champagne bottle-link which was dropped under the window, Jeffrey said. Now, what has become of the other one, the ballet girl? No doubt that also will be found at the Turnpike House, said Mr. Cass. I must tell you that the fastening of the links was somewhat worn and that a slight tug would have broken them. In putting his arm through the window to grasp the knife, which Mrs. Jenner says was on the table, I dare say Marshall's cuff caught in an ale and the links were torn apart. Both would have fallen to the ground. One has been found, the other no doubt is still on the ground. In that case we must make a search to-morrow, said Jeffrey rising. No, we must see Marshall first, Mr. Cass said very decidedly. I would go over with you tonight, but that would make Ines suspicious. I do not want her to know anything of all this, and after all we may be mistaken, but he must give us an explanation. I will write a note to him this evening and ask him to come over to-morrow. You call here, Heron, at eleven o'clock and we will force the truth out of him. Very well, I think that would be the best. I hope he will be able to exculpate himself. If Mrs. Marshall should get to know, she would fight for her husband tooth and nail.  The Spanish blood, I suppose. By the way, he went on looking at Heron with a faint smile. I am half Spanish too, and no doubt I am credited with a fiery temper. Best now, Heron, you thought from my silence that I had killed this man. Jeffrey nodded with some embarrassment. I did, he said frankly, but can you blame me? Appearances were against you. Mr. Cass shrugged his shoulders. No, I don't blame you, he said, but you might have given me the benefit of the doubt. Appearances are against Marshall too. Well, we shall see if he is as wrongly suspected as I was. Are you going now? It is early. I should like to see Ruth for a few minutes. Well, she will be quite as glad to see you. She is dull, poor girl, and the horror of this thing, so much as she knows of it at least, has got on her nerves. Go and see her and come here at eleven tomorrow. Of course, you will tell her nothing. Certainly not. Good night. By the way, I forgot to tell you that Webster is coming down next week. He is much better and I think the change will do him good. Ha! Will you tell him of this discovery? I don't know. What do you think? I should say nothing until we are quite certain. Let us hold our own counsel for the honour of the family. I think you are right, said Mr. Cass with a sigh. Heaven grant for the happiness of us all that we are wrong in our suspicions. Now go, my dear boy, and leave me to think the matter over. Ruth is waiting for you. Heron found Ruth in the winter garden and in tears. She told him she was the most miserable girl in the world, and that nobody cared for her, which last statement Mr. Heron was not inclined to hear without ventured to put forward his own claims. My darling girl, how can you say so? He asked, pressing her closely in his arms. I love you more than all the world. Every man says that when he can think of nothing else to say, replied Ruth, who was much too disturbed to be wholly just. And if you really loved me, you wouldn't have neglected me so. My dear, I was busy. You know what took up my time. Yes, I know, and I wish I didn't know. This horrid business has troubled me more than and night. I wonder my hair hasn't turned gray. Nonsense, cried Jeffrey. It is as black as ever. Black as the outlook of our lives. Heron could not help a smile at this grand eloquent speech. It was so unlike Ruth to indulge in what the Americans call tall talk. Leave the wretched affair alone, dear, he said, kissing her. You need not trouble your pretty head any more about it. But I must, she insisted. If my suspicions are not set at rest, I shall go mad. And the worst of it is, I have promised my father to tell you nothing. If I could only speak freely to you, it would ease my mind. Then ease it and speak freely, Ruth. Oh, you need not shake your head. I know what you are talking about, those sleeve links. Yes, that is it! She cried hysterically. I have nearly killed myself with anxiety over the whole thing.  No, my dear, only a very foolish girl. But you can set your mind at rest once and for all. Your father is perfectly innocent of what you impute to him. He had nothing to do with the crime, and he believed in all good faith that Mrs. Jenner was the guilty person. Ruth rose to her feet and a smile of relief dispelled her tears. Oh, how delighted I am! she said excitedly. I shan't worry any more. Oh, how thankful I am! What a weight is off my mind! But why didn't he tell me before? He had his reasons. Reasons which he has explained to me. They need not trouble you, my dear. I think you had better put the whole affair out of your mind. I will, now that Popeye is free from the stigma. He does not know that I thought he was seriously mixed up in the case. He wouldn't never forgive me if he did. Don't ever tell him, Jeffrey. No, I won't. Now don't worry any more. But Jeffrey, if Mrs. Jenner is not guilty, who is? Ah, we must find that out, replied Heron, thinking it best not to reveal anything about Mr. Marshall, an explanation which would only have caused fresh trouble. If you are wise, Ruth, you will leave the matter alone. I intend to, she said. But there is one thing I want to tell you, Jeffrey, Job Lovell. Who is he? The gypsy. Didn't I tell you about him? Yes, I think you did say something about having met him at the Turnpike House. Well, what has he been doing? Nothing, except that he has taken up his abode at the Turnpike House. Like his impudence, cried the young man. Why, that house is mine, and if he wanted to live in the wretched hovel, he should have come to me. Besides, I do not wish anyone to live in that shamble. I intend to have it pulled down, and so get rid of all the legends which haunt the neighborhood. I wish you would pull it down. It is an ill-omant place, a blot on the landscape, and the sooner it is removed, the better it will be for the countryside. The people round here think it is haunted, you know, and that keeps up the memory of the murder. If the house were pulled down, there would be an end of it all, and the sooner the better. But I do not know what Aunt Ines will say. Mrs. Marshall, cried Jeffrey, looking at her sharply, what has she got to do with it? That is what I want to tell you. It seems that Aunt Ines has taken an interest in Job. She suggested that he should patch up the house and live in it. She has arranged to allow him so much a week to live on. Huh! That is strange. Mrs. Marshall is not usually so philanthropic. That's exactly what I thought, and that made me think that Papa had something to do with the murder and that Aunt Ines was shielding him. By assisting Job, I went to see him the other day and I found Aunt Ines there. She was very angry with me for having gone. I saw Job afterwards and he would tell me nothing, but he hinted at a secret between him and Aunt Ines. Now I think, don't think anything about it, Heron said with a forced laugh. Your aunt is getting charitable in her old age. Believe me, there is nothing between her and the gypsy relative to the murder whatever he may say. But he talked, Jeffrey. I dare say, I wonder he did not threaten. I will hear this for myself and if he knows anything, which I very much doubt, I will get it out of him. My dear, how can you think your aunt knows anything about the matter? Now, Ruth, you must promise me to leave it all alone and think no more about it. Very well, she said with unusual meekness. Then you don't think Aunt Ines has anything to do? Any knowledge, I mean? I am quite sure she has not. She is kind to Job out of pure charity. Now I must say good night and once more, don't worry. But as he drove home he came to the conclusion that Mrs. Marshall's kindness to the gypsy was meant in some way to shield her husband. And that complicates matters, thought Heron. Chapter 22 At Bay On the following morning Jeffrey arrived precisely at the time appointed by Mr. Cass and was shown at once into the library. His host was there alone, for Marshall, with his usual want of punctuality, had not yet appeared. Jeffrey was informed of the sudden change in Ruth. Your visit did her good last night, said her father with a smile. I told her not to worry herself, that all was quite right, and she seemed comforted. But she told me something which seems to hint that Mrs. Marshall knows of her husband's guilt. And he repeated Ruth's tale about the gypsy and Mrs. Marshall's kindness to him, her extraordinary kindness, he termed it. Mr. Cass listened attentively but shook his head. I don't agree with you, he said. You do not know Ines as I do. While they were still speaking, in whispers like two guilty people, Marshall bustled into the room in what he would have called his breezy fashion. In reality, his manner was simply aggressive and noisy, but it gave him the air of being, what he wanted to be thought, a creature too guileless and unconventional to conceal his feelings. Good day, Cass! He cried loudly to his former partner and nodding to Heron. Well, here I am. What's the matter? Got into any trouble? No, I have not got into any trouble, was Mr. Cass's emphatic reply. This boy, then, and Marshall turned smilingly to Jeffrey, upon whom he looked as a possible member of the family. You're in trouble, eh? Eh? Well, young men will be young men. I am sure you speak from experience, Marshall, said Mr. Cass, while Heron contented himself with a shake of the head. But there is nothing wrong with Heron. Very glad, I'm sure, Marshall said insolently. It seemed as though he sent some trouble in the air and thought to meet it with Bluff. As yet he had not the faintest idea that the coming conversation was to be serious for him personally. Well, he went on, as you are all right and Heron is a good boy, why have you asked me to come over? Can't you guess? asked Jeffrey, angered by the man's manner. He lifted his eyebrows. No, he said tranquilly, I really am at a loss to understand why. Cast your thoughts back twelve years, interrupted Mr. Cass sharply, and then perhaps you will understand why. What do you mean? asked his brother-in-law, a thrill running through him. He saw now that this was going to be serious for him. Do you remember the night when you came in at yonder window muddy and ragged, Mr. Cass said slowly, when you told me a lie, that you had been attacked by foot-pads, and it was no lie, cried the man, moistening his dry lips. I told you what had actually happened. Oh, no, you didn't. For instance, you never told me that you had seen Jenner.  I did not see Jenner, he said. Nor did you tell me that you had been at the Turnpike House, continued Mr. Cass, not noticing the interruption. That I deny I was not near the Turnpike House. With a look of scorn, Mr. Cass picked up an object which was lying on the table and held it out. Do you know what this is? A piece of gold so far as I can see, what is that to me? Evidence that you were at the Turnpike House on that night. I tell you, I was not there. He cried desperately. Oh, don't trouble yourself to tell lies, Mr. Cass said wearily. They will avail you nothing in the end. Since you do not choose to recognize this object, let me tell you that it is a part of the set of links I gave you shortly before that murder. Links, I, I only wore them once. I know you did and on that night you lost one pair and left the other in your bedroom where they were found by the housemate and returned to me. You would have been better advised had you destroyed them, Marshal. Why should I have destroyed them? I lost one pair, it is true. The catch between the ovals was worn and the links broke.  Marshal uttered a loud cry and started to his feet, his face crimson with rage and shaking with what looked very much like terror. I deny that, he cried, I deny that I was at the Turnpike House that I killed. This link was found under the window, interrupted Mr. Cass, the man who wore it was the man who killed Jenner. You are the man. I killed Jenner. It is a lie. Marshal continued to stare at the piece of gold which his brother in law continued to hold up as though he were fascinated. He drew his hand across his brow as he uttered his denial in a weak voice and seemed to be trying to recall something. Why should I have killed him? He asked. It was now Heron's turn. He drew from his pocket the bill of exchange. Perhaps this was supply the motive, he said coldly. This forgery, discounted by Julian Roper.  He recognized it only too well. For years he had been dreading this moment and now that it had arrived the sight of the document proved too much for him. With a strangled cry he tugged at his collar then fell like a log on the floor. The strong man, the guilty man had fainted. And neither Mr. Cass nor Heron were moved by the catastrophe. It was to them decisive evidence of his guilt and when they recalled the lifelong imprisonment of Mrs. Jenner they could find no pity in their hearts for the detected rogue.  Nothing in their eyes could expiate his guilt. It would be better if he died now, said Mr. Cass as he watched Heron loosen his collar and ash-cold water on his face. Pardon me, not at all, replied the younger man looking up for a moment. If he died now there would be no confession.  The most meritorious of men could not have looked dignified under such circumstances, much less Frank Marshall, who was so to speak in the dock before two prejudiced judges. I suppose you are going to give me up, he said. On the contrary, we want to get you out of this trouble for the sake of the family, said Mr. Cass coldly. Though by rights you should hang. They don't hang for forgery, stammered the wretched creature arranging his collar. Sha, I am not speaking of the minor crime but of the greater. It was you who murdered Jenner. I did not, I swear I did not. You did, I am convinced of it. He came down here with that bill in order to blackmail you and you killed him. He made no attempt to assert his dignity. You can kick a man when he is down if you like, he said in a quavering voice, even though he is your sister's husband, but you have no right to accuse him of a crime he did not commit. I tell you I forged that bill, but I did not kill the man. You knew that he was in the neighborhood. No, I was as much astonished as you could have been when I heard of his death. If you are innocent, it was Heron who spoke. How did it happen that a part of the links he were wearing were found under the window of the house? You must have dropped it there. I did not. He seemed to be reflecting. If you want to know the truth, the pair of links was torn from me by the foot-pads who attacked me. I daresay they killed him. Rubbish! cried Mr. Cass, looking at him with disgust. Why do you tell such lies? You met Jenner on that night, although you denied it when I questioned you. I was afraid of being implicated in the murder. I knew if you had the slightest suspicion of me you would have stopped my marriage with Inés and I loved her. You loved her money, you mean. Well, then I loved her money. Marshall cried violently. I was on the brink of ruin. It was only her that stood between me and the streets. I had to pay Roper the five hundred pounds. He could not have prosecuted as the bill was missing, but he could have talked, and he would have talked had I not paid him the full sum. It was only when I had possession of the money, my wife's money, that I was able to shut his mouth. I knew before then that the bill was lost. Because Jenner had shown it to you on that night. Marshall turned away sullenly, but still under compulsion answered. Yes, he did. I had received a letter from him saying that he was coming here with the bill and would sell it to me. He asked me to meet him at the wagon and respond half a mile from the turnpike house where his wife was staying. As I had no money and wasn't his power absolutely, for by showing the bill to you, Cass, he would have had my marriage with your sister broken off. I was forced to meet him, and I did meet him at seven o'clock. Oh, so you did go out that night to meet him. I did, he said defiantly. I dare not tell you, for you have always had so many absurd prejudices. So I told you I was going for a walk and stole out to meet Jenner at the wagon and respond. I said that if he would wait till I was married and could handle money, I would buy the bill. So, finding that unless I made your sister my wife, I should never have a penny, he consented. Oh, said Mr. Cass, he consented to go without his pound of flesh. A man like Jenner, bloodsucker and thief. He had to choose between exposing me and getting nothing or waiting and being paid, said Marshall vehemently. Besides, he knew that Roper was after him because he had stolen the bill, and that if he made a fuss, whatever row I might get into he would be in trouble himself. So he agreed to wait until I had married Inés and then to accept a thousand pounds. Meanwhile he kept the bill and promised to hold his tongue about it. He said he was going to see his wife at the Turnpike House, and that he would get money from her which would enable him to lie low for a time while Roper was searching for him. It was a range that when I was married and had paid him the thousand pounds he should go to America. I agreed to all this. I could do nothing else, and then we parted. Is that the truth? Heron asked skeptically. Yes, it is. You can believe or disbelieve it as you like. I left him by the wagoner's pond, and that was the last I saw of him alive or dead. On my way back to the house I was attacked by some tramps who took my watch. They wrenched my links off, that is, one pair, the missing pair, and were about to take the other when they heard someone coming and made off. I returned here and told Cass as little as I could, in case he might see fit to stop my marriage with his sister. I wished a heaven I had stopped it, Mr. Cass said fiercely. I don't believe a word you say. End of chapters twenty-one and twenty-two. Chapters twenty-three and twenty-four of the Turnpike House by Fergus Hume. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter twenty-three. Still in doubt. Marshall, seeing that the two men were silent, began to recover his self-command. I see you don't believe me. Perhaps there is no reason why you should, but I swear I do not know who killed Jenner. If I had known I should have got that bill out of him. Oh, said Jeffrey, and you would have condoned his sin so long as he gave you back the evidence of your own. I would. Every man for himself in this world. I would have told him whosoever he was that if he did not give me back the bill I would denounce him to the police. But I have not the least idea who the guilty person is. He wiped his face. And all these years I have lived in misery, fearing daily and hourly that the bill would turn up. I knew Roper would not spare me if he got possession of it. No wonder, remarked Heron, seeing how badly you treated his daughter Elsa. The culprit had the grace to blush. Elsa Roper was never a penny the worst by me, he said. When I used to go to her father's office to procure money she chose to fall in love with me. I made capital out of that as I do out of most things. Don't be so shameless, man! Interposed his brother-in-law sharply. Marshall sickened him with his fluent villainy. Oh, you were always a puritan, sneered Marshall. However, that is neither here nor there. I let the girl believe that I cared for her in order to get her father to part with his money, but I never intended to marry her. And she died of a broken heart, put in Heron. So the old man says, as though a woman never died of such a thing, she caught a chill and was carried off because she was not sufficiently well nourished. That is the truth, although old Roper prefers to put it down to me. If he had fed her better she would be alive now. But he chose to think I killed her and would do me a serious injury if he could. I am glad the bill did not fall into his hands. Where did you get it? He asked, turning to Jeffrey. Or if you can tell me the name of the person who had it, I can tell you who was the assassin of Jenner. Oh, it is quite true. Jenner showed me the bill that night by the wagoner's pod. I would have taken it by force, but he was stronger than I. There was no chance of my getting the better of him. But I noticed that he took it out of a red pocketbook. Now that pocketbook was never produced at the trial, so the assassin must have it. Then you don't think Mrs. Jenner killed him? She? She wouldn't have killed a fly. No, she did not kill him. If she had, that red pocketbook would have been produced in court. I have been living in fear ever since, wondering who had it, though I always intended to make use of the murder should the assassin have tried to blackmail me. Who did you get the bill from, Heron? I did not get it from anyone. Jenner evidently thought that you might come after him to steal it, so according to his wife, he sewed it up in the body of a toy horse with which his child had been playing. Lately, Neil wished to give this toy to George Chisell, so it came into Ruth's possession. The boy cut it open, and Miss Braun found the bill. She gave it to me, and I at once saw Roper about it. Besides, I read up my father's diary and found that his name had been forged. Did he know that I had done it? Yes, Roper called on him to tell him so. If my father had not died, Mr. Marshall, you would have found yourself in prison for forgery. No, I should not.  No one could have prosecuted me without producing the document. I know enough law for that. Besides, I had paid the money to Roper, and that I did only to avoid a scandal. Does Ruth know about this, or Miss Braun, or George? They know nothing, replied Mr. Cass. Ruth does not even know of the existence of this bill. George has butted a child and took no notice of it. As for Miss Braun, she thinks the signature is all right. She will hold her tongue.  I feel certain that you committed it. No one else could have had so powerful a motive. Still, someone else might have had a motive for all that. I am sure Mrs. Jenner is innocent, but her husband had lots of enemies, and many would gladly have done it. Could they have escaped the consequences? The only thing that puzzles me is the disappearance of the red pocketbook. I understand all about the bill now. It could not have been made use of. Well, the whole affair is a mystery, but all I can say is that I did not kill the man. I knew if it came to the pinch I could always prove that. It has come to the pinch now, said Mr. Cass sternly. Prove your innocence if you can, for my part I believe you are guilty.  On that night, if you remember, we had dinner at six. A light dinner, dished up in a hurry. Your wife had to go to London. You told her you would have some supper at nine, did you not? Yes, I remember something of that, said Mr. Cass, after a pause. Was I not into supper? Yes, you were. I remember that, too. And supper was at nine. Yes, it was ordered for nine, and I postponed it till half past because I did not feel hungry. I was here when you gave the order because you asked me whether I would prefer supper at once or wait. That is true enough. Well? Well, if you will look again into the evidence given at the trial of that unfortunate woman, you will find that the doctor said that Jenner had been killed at nine o'clock. Therefore it could not have been I who struck the blow. By your own showing, I was with you at the time. Now, am I innocent or guilty? Mr. Cass looked at Jeffrey. All this is true enough, he said quietly. I begin to believe that you did not do it after all. If you can be so honest as to admit that I was in this room at nine o'clock, I could not have killed Jenner, who was at that very time being murdered by some unknown person four miles away. I am a forger, I admit that, but here he became finely scornful. I am not a murderer. Foolish I may have been, wicked I never was. The two listeners gazed at each other in amazement. Then Marshall went on. Now I know where the bill is, I feel relieved, he said, and his self-pity was almost pathetic. I can sleep in peace, more especially when it has been destroyed. As he spoke, he had vast his hand towards the table with the intention of taking the paper. Mr. Cass anticipated him and snatched the incriminating document away. No, Marshall, he said, putting it in his pocket. I keep this. You are too dangerous a man to be allowed to go your own way. I use this bill as a whip to manage you. Behave yourself and act a decent part for the remainder of your life and no one shall ever know of this. But try any of your tricks and you will be laid by the heels. Do you call this honorable? Blustered Marshall. I call it caution. You are quite safe with me and I am sure our friend Heron will say nothing. Certainly. I shall be guided entirely by Mr. Cass. But Roper might get hold of it and then I should be lost. Roper will not get hold of it. I keep it, Marshall. It is for your wife's sake only that I am thus lenient. So far as you are concerned, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see you suffering a just punishment.  You had better look out, Cass, said Marshall, threateningly. I can make you pay dearly for these insults. Can any person possibly insult you? Sneered Mr. Cass. Do what you like, but remember, he touched his breast pocket. I will exact payment. Now you know. As for the rest, I don't want you in my house again, but as that might provoke remark on the part of Ines and lead to an explanation, I will permit you to call occasionally, but I hope your visits will be rare. Were I in your place, I should go abroad. Now you can go. The man was livid with rage. He was evidently inclined to make trouble. He knew that he could go pretty far, for only the direst extremity would force Mr. Cass into creating a scandal by producing the bill. But he could find nothing to say in face of the threat held over him, and cowed by the looks of the two men he finally sneaked out of the room.  Truly the man was bad to the core. Do you believe him? Asked Heron when they were alone. Yes, what he says is perfectly correct. I confess I am greatly relieved. So am I.  He might, but that we shall never get out of him. On the other hand I am inclined to think he does not know, for believing the assassin to have had the bill he would have made an attempt to get it from him. But what is to be done next? Mrs. Jenner is still in jail and ill. And that reminds me, said Jeffrey, taking a letter out of his pocket. I had this from Neil this morning. I intended to show it to you, but our interview with our friend put it out of my head. He is coming down today. What? Exclaimed Mr. Cass running his eyes over the letter. Is he well enough to travel? Oh yes, he has a wonderful recuperative power. You see, he says there that he intends to see his mother. It appears she has sent for him. He must have gone to her yesterday as he is coming down today. I am anxious to see him, for I cannot help wondering why she should have sent for him. Do you think she might have something to tell him? No, Mr. Cass shook his head. I saw her the other day.  She is in the infirmary now and very ill. I don't think the end is far off. I expect she sent for Neil to bid him good-bye. Mr. Cass paused for a moment. You know, Heron, he said, in spite of all the trails you have followed, I cannot help thinking that she really killed her husband. I cannot believe it. The person who committed the murder was the man who got those links, who dropped one under the window. Ah, then we shall never find out. Marshall might know. He might have recognized the foot-bads who attacked him that night, suggested, Heron. Then he started struck with a sudden idea. By the way, is it possible that the gypsy Job was one of them? That would explain how he comes to be so intimate with your sister. I don't see that, remarked Mr. Cass with a frown. If she knew that Job had attacked her husband and had afterwards murdered Jenner, he would receive but short shrift from the hands of Inez. She is no sentimentalist. But don't you see, persisted Jeffrey, she may think that he has the bill. She may be keeping her knowledge of the murder quiet, so that Job may not produce the document and incriminate her husband. Inez knows nothing about the bill. You heard what her husband said.  Nevertheless, I believe on this occasion he spoke the truth. I cannot believe that my sister, in spite of her love for that reptile, would go as far as to grovel to a gypsy and shield a murderer. No, the gypsy might have been one of those who attacked Marshall on that night, but I do not believe that he killed Jenner. Don't trouble any more about the matter, Heron. We have done all we could with no result. Besides, Mrs. Jenner, poor soul, will soon be released from her unjust imprisonment. If indeed it be unjust, death will set her free. What about Neil and his wish to see his mother cleared? We shall see what he says about that, replied Mr. Cass, closing the subject in a more peremptory manner than was usual with him. The same afternoon Neil Webster arrived at Holly Oaks, looking a shadow of his former self, pale and fragile and very downcast. Ruth and Jenny both gave him a cordial welcome, and neither his host nor Jeffrey Heron were lacking in heartiness. But all the kindness and attention he received served only to make the young man more melancholy. Observing this and knowing that he had seen his mother, Mr. Cass took the first opportunity to draw him into the library. It might be that Mrs. Jenner had told a poor fellow something. It appeared that she had. Yes, I saw her, Neil said, and replied to Mr. Cass's question. She is dying. I have seen her for the last time. She cannot live many days now. Indeed, I wanted to stay beside her till the end, but she would not hear of it. She said that I was to go away and remember always that she had loved me. For the rest I was to put her out of my mind and live as good a life as I could. Then she kissed me, and we parted. Is that all? That is all. Except that she has commanded me to stop searching for the real assassin of my father. Did she say that? Yes. She said no one would ever find out the truth and, moreover, that my father had deserved his fate. She was sure I had not committed the crime. She swore that she herself was guiltless, but she said that it was quite impossible that the truth should ever come to light. Do you think she knows the truth, Neil? No, I am sure she does not. She said if she did she would have told me if only to put my mind at rest, but she knows nothing. Poor mother. And what do you intend to do? Abay her commands, said Neil. I shall search no more. Chapter 24 Another Piece of Evidence Ruth let Miss Braun take entire possession of Neil. In spite of his languid ways, Webster was an interesting study to a woman. So Miss Kaz founded a trifle dull, for Jeffrey had returned to his own place and did not come over to Holly Oaks quite so often as she thought he might have done. Yet she rarely intruded upon Jenny and Neil, but allowed them to drift into a companionship which she devoutly hoped would result in a closer tie of marriage. Jenny continued to give the usual lessons to her little pupils, and after school hours Ruth took them off her hands so that she might be free to entertain Neil. After a time he recovered sufficient interest in his music to take up his violin, and with Jenny he spent long hours going over his old music and experimenting on new. Meanwhile Ruth naturally found the house extremely dull without Jeffrey, so she spent as much time as possible in long walks in riding her bicycle and in paying visits. One day she recollected her promise to call and see her aunt Ines. Mr. Marshall had gone for a change to Brighton where, no doubt, he was enjoying himself after his usual selfish fashion. His wife had declined to accompany him giving as her reason that she had more to do than waste her time among a pack of fools, as she was wont to designate the rest of the world. So she remained at home and attended to her duties in mother a joyless way. She still retained a mild love for her husband, she despised his weaknesses, she hated his lack of principle, but some sentiment of love remained at the bottom of her soul. Companionship had begotten toleration and on the whole she thought she was not worse off than other women. She, at least, could govern her husband's weaker nature and could curb his follies. And this somewhat unsatisfactory employment gave her plenty to do, so she succeeded in passing her life in an endurable fashion. Fortunately for her she was not a woman who had the capacity for being bored. Nine out of ten women would have killed themselves out of sheer weariness of the flesh, but Mrs. Marshall continued to live on, grimly. Ruth had often wondered in her secret soul if her aunt were doing penance for some hidden sin. It was the only way in which she could account for the asceticism of her life. She lived in an ugly house in which all the rooms were hideous both in color and design, all save those which were occupied by the master of the house. His apartments, furnished by himself, were charming in every way. As she stood now in the stone-hued drawing-room, the melancholy of the place struck Ruth more than ever, and, moreover, glancing round the room, she caught sight of a copy of Thomas Acampus. She's taking to religion, she thought, turning over the leaves. I really wonder if there is a secret in her past life to account for. But at this moment a grim maid-servant entered to interrupt her conjectures. If you please, miss, she said, Mistress is in the garret starring things and she wants to know if you will go up to her there. Oh, certainly! said Ruth, wondering if her aunt were mad that she should invite a visitor to go poking about among old lumber, even though that visitor were her niece. But she meekly followed the maid up to the top of the house and was introduced into a long, low, wide attic immediately under the roof. Here Aunt Ines in a stone-colored dress with a severe face gave her an icy greeting. In spite of the summer warmth the garret was chilly and this, joined to her reception, made the girl shiver. I am glad you have remembered me at last, Ruth, said Mrs. Marshall in her most metallic tones. I was beginning to think you had forgotten me. I found it difficult to leave the house aunt. Neil Webster is there and, of course, I have had to attend to him. I heard the young man was back again, she said in a muffled voice, and truly I wonder that my brother should have him in the house. Why shouldn't he? Neil is a good fellow. But his mother is not a good woman. She belongs to the criminal classes. My dear aunt, cried Ruth, I am sure the poor woman is more sinned against than sinning. What do you know of her? asked the good lady, turning a terrible eye on her niece. Has your father? Yes, he has, and I found out a great deal for myself. I am sure Mrs. Jenner did not kill her husband. You know nothing at all about it. Mrs. Jenner was a minx. I knew her well when she lived at Holly Oaks and taught Amy. I lived there myself and managed the house too, for your poor mother never did have any idea of how to conduct an establishment. Mrs. Jenner, a bold, bad woman. She came down to West Ham after the arrest of her abominable husband and lived at the Turnpike house. And there her husband called to see her on the night he was murdered. On the night she murdered him, corrected Mrs. Marshall vehemently. Will you be wiser than the law, Ruth? I tell you it was she who struck the blow. I do not say she had not good cause, for the man was a brute, but she had no right to take his life. She didn't, she didn't, as severated Ruth with quite as much vehement as her aunt had shown. The blow was struck through the window for the sake of getting a red. Why, whatever is the matter aunt? Nothing, nothing, gasped Mrs. Marshall. She had seated herself suddenly on a convenient box and with her hand to her side was gazing at her niece with an ashen face. A stitch in the side, that's all, child. Why did your father tell you all this? And what does he know about the Red Pocket Book? I have heard scraps of information at times, said Ruth, trying to get out of the unpleasant position in which her tongue had placed her. But I know very little, I don't want to have anything to do with the matter. Please don't ask me anything more about it, aunt. You have said so much that I must know all, said Mrs. Marshall, so fiercely that the girl was frightened. If you refuse to tell me I shall speak to your father. He is the very best person to whom you could speak, replied Miss Gas, with some defiance in her voice for her temper was rising at her aunt's tone. But please don't bring me into it. I shall act as I think best. If this case has been reopened, as I judge from your words, it has been. Why was I not informed? I refer you to Papa, said Ruth coldly, and after all, she added, I do not see what you have to do with it, auntie Ness.  Then Ruth did a very foolish thing, a thing she repented of for many a long day after. What about Job, she asked. Does he also take an interest in the case? Mrs. Marshall sprang forward in the most dramatic fashion and seized her niece by the arm. You have been asking him questions, she said. And what if I have? cried the girl, twisting herself away. Anyone has a right to ask questions, I suppose? But he told me nothing. He had nothing to tell. In that case you need not look so fiercely at me, aunt. Mrs. Marshall realized how indiscreet was her demeanor. Don't trouble about me, child, she said with a forced laugh. I have done nothing to be ashamed of. I never thought you had, aunt. Mrs. Jenner, continued auntie Ness exactly as though she were repeating a lesson, was a flirt. When she married a brute, she only got her just punishment. I did my best to be kind to her, but I always hated her. It is no use my denying the fact. I did hate her.  Oh, yes, said the girl, proudly conscious of her own tiger blood. I can quite understand. I should like to see any woman take Jeffrey from me. And she growled like a playful cat. I believe Mrs. Jenner killed her husband, continued auntie Ness, taking no notice of this speech, and she is being punished for it. As to Job, I merely assist him out of charity. He knows nothing about the murder. It happened before he came to these parts. Now are you satisfied? My dear aunt, I never wanted to be satisfied, replied the girl. I never thought you knew anything about the murder. I don't, I don't, I swear I don't, cried Mrs. Marshall. But this red pocketbook, it was not mentioned at the trial. I know nothing about it, said Ruth promptly. She was not going to be drawn into the discussion. Ask Papa about it. Mrs. Marshall, seeing she would get nothing further out of her niece, returned to the examination of the lumber which was scattered over the floor of the garret. Then we will go down shortly and have some tea, my dear, she said, in her most amiable tone. She was evidently desirous of effacing the impression of her former fierceness. Ruth wondered but little at her aunt's strange demeanor. In a meditative way she watched Mrs. Marshall moving about on the other side of the garret, so close under the slope of the roof that her head touched it. There were two windows, one at each end, but these were so dirty that the place was enveloped in a kind of brown twilight which had, at first, prevented the girl from seeing plainly. As her eyes grew more accustomed to the semi-gloom, she examined the lumber that was piled up on all sides. All the scum of the house had risen to the top and been left in this isolated attic. It was filled with the wreckage which will accumulate even in the most orderly houses. There were also ancient books, files of newspapers and such like things huddled together pale-mell, and overall lay a thick gray dust. Suddenly, as Ruth, growing tired of waiting, shifted her position, the light from the window behind struck out a patch of red. Her eyes wandered mechanically towards the color. It was the red Morocco binding of a narrow book which protruded from the heap. Hardly thinking what she was doing, the girl picked it up, and with the light from behind her strong upon it she examined it minutely. Then her heart seemed to stand still, for it was a pocketbook, perhaps the very red pocketbook which had been stolen by Jenner's murderer, and of which they had been speaking only a few minutes before. Anxious to make quite certain as to this, Ruth slipped off the elastic strap and examined the discolored leaves. For the most part they were blank, but written on the front page was a name, and the name was Jenner. At the sight Ruth uttered a cry. Mrs. Marshall turned sharply. End of chapters 23 and 24 Chapters 25 and 26 of The Turnpike House by Fergus Hume This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 25 The Red Pocketbook What is the matter, child? asked Mrs. Marshall sharply. But Ruth could not answer. She sat with the red pocketbook in her lap, gazing upon it as though it were a viper. Aunt Ynez repeated her question impatiently, then, surprise at her niece's silence, she crossed the garret. Her eyes fell at once on the red book, and for a few seconds no word was spoken. Then, at last, Ruth made a remark and made it in a hushed voice as though she feared it might be heard by others than the frozen woman before her. It was not produced at the trial, was what she said looking at her aunt. Mrs. Marshall might have been a granite image for all the movement she made. Her face was like snow, her eyes fixed as though they were in a cataleptic state. And so she was, for the moment, only when Ruth, who was the first to recover herself, made a motion to rise did she shoo any signs of life. She sighed deeply and removed her eyes from the book. I will show it to my father, said the girl, where at her aunt changed suddenly into a creature of fire. She snatched at the pocketbook and had it in her grasp before Ruth could close her fingers upon it. You will show it to no one, she said, thrusting it into her pocket. I forbid you to say a word. Tell me how it came to be here and I will consider if it is right for me to be silent. I will explain nothing. Girl, what demon brought you here and should you that book? I came up here to look for it. I have been searching for over an hour. You came in and found it in a few minutes. It is fate, fate. Aunty Nez, Ruth drew back until she was standing up against the wall. You, oh, no, you did not, did not kill the man. Mrs. Marshall shrugged her shoulders, her color and her courage coming back to her almost as she spoke. You are at liberty to think so if you like. I will not contradict you. No indeed, I have other things to do. Will you contradict my father? I forbid you to tell your father of this. I must. I will know the truth of this matter. There is an innocent woman in jail for an innocent woman. Interrupted her aunt with contempt. Oh, yes, very innocent. She paused and looked at Ruth. Come downstairs, she said. As you have found what I wanted, we need not remain here. You knew that this book was hidden here? Yes, I have known it for years. Why did you not produce it at the trial? That is my business. How did it come into your procession? All that I refuse to tell you. Think me guilty if you like. It is evident you want to smirch our family name. But I have had enough of this nonsense. You must hold your tongue. To all persons save my father. I must tell him and I will. I forbid you. It is no use you're forbidding me. I tell my father. He has the honor of the family quite as at heart as you have, and he is the man to decide what should be done. You will tell? Yes, I am going straight home to tell all. The eyes of the two women met and for a moment there was a duel of wills. Then Ruth, with her more youthful fire, got the upper hand. Her aunt turned away. You are bringing me into great danger, she said. But have it your own way. Tell your father. Aunt, you did not kill the man? Think so if you like. Mrs. Marshall passed out of the garret. Ruth remained a moment to recover herself control, which had been sorely shaken by this extraordinary conversation. Then she also went down the stairs to the inhabited portion of the house. Mrs. Marshall was not to be seen, and on inquiring of the servant, Ruth learnt that she had locked herself in her bedroom and refused to see anyone. In this dilemma there was nothing left for the girl but to go home, which she proceeded to do feeling sick at heart. On the way to Hollyoaks a sudden thought struck her. Suppose her aunt was guilty.  If she had not been almost at the gates of the park when this occurred to her, she would have run back. But the best thing she could do now was to see her father and implorium to go to Aunt Inez at once. She felt there was no time to be lost and ran up the avenue as quickly as she could. The window of the library which opened onto the terrace was a jar, so taking this as a shortcut she ran up the steps onto the terrace and flung herself into the room with a white and haggard face. Ruth? What is the matter? Ruth! cried Mr. Kaz, and sprang forward just in time to catch her in his arms. For a minute or so she could not speak, but when speech did come the words poured out in a torrent. Aunt Inez, she cried. I went to see her. She was in the garret. There I found the red pocket-book, Jenner's book, which was stolen. She will not say if she killed him, yet she knew that the book was in the garret. Oh, see her at once, Father, at once. She has locked herself in her bedroom. I believe that she will kill herself, and the excited girl burst into tears of exhaustion and terror. Mr. Kaz said nothing but put her into a chair. Indeed he did not know what to say or even what to think, for he felt completely stunned. He had suspected Marshall, but never Inez. Even now he did not believe that she could ever have brought herself to commit such a crime. Go, go! cried Ruth, wringing her hands. Aunt Inez, you may be too late.  I know she will. No fear of that, said her father, recovering himself somewhat. She is not the woman to give up the fight in that way, Inez. No, she never killed that beast. Never. But, Father, the red pocket-book. She will be able to explain how she came by it. She has a temper, and it's fierce enough when she is roused, but she would not go so far as that. As to committing suicide, she has no reason for doing that if she is innocent. I hope she is. Oh, I hope she is! wailed Ruth, distracted with terror. Her father saw that the girl was thoroughly overwrought. In her present state of mind, everything would be exaggerated. He intended to go at once and learn the truth from his sister, but he could not leave Ruth in this plight. Before he went, he must soothe her. So, pulling himself together, no easy task at his age, for he had received a severe shock. He sat down beside the terrified girl and took her hand firmly in his own. See here, child, he said. However that book got into Marshall's hands, your aunt had nothing to do with it. She did not, she could not have killed Jenner. I know it because she was in this house on the night and at the time of the murder. Then if she is innocent, why didn't she tell me so? Well, you know what she is. No doubt she was angry to think you should conceive her capable of such a crime. She will tell me all she knows if she has any knowledge which I am inclined to doubt. But I want you to understand, Ruth, that your aunt is innocent, and that her innocence can be proved by me. Under these circumstances she will not commit suicide as you appear to think. I will go over and see her at once, and I shall doubtless have a reassuring report to give you when I return. But you must promise not to worry while I am away, and above all things, Ruth, do not tell any one of this. There may be trouble. I will say nothing, nothing, panted the girl, pressing her hands against her beating heart. And indeed, Father, I did not meddle with the matter again. The discovery was thrust upon me. You can trust me. Indeed you can. And you will not make yourself ill with expecting the worst. No, no. I promise I will go to my room and lie down. That's a good girl, and I will walk over at once. Ride, ride. You don't know what may happen. Nothing bad at all events. Yes, I will ride. Now go to your room, dear, and leave me to attend to this. Yes, Father, she said faintly. She had the utmost belief in his capability of arranging the situation.  I am, I am rather frightened. Believe me, there is no need for that, said Mr. Cass, with an attempt at a smile. There is your kiss. Now go. Mr. Cass reviewed the whole situation as he wrote over to his sister's house. He reflected that Marshall must have told his wife about the bill, for that and the book were so to speak inseparable. In a word, thought Mr. Cass, as he dismounted at the door and gave his horse to a groom. Marshall did not kill the man himself, but he knows who did. But I'll make Inez tell the truth in some way. This is no time to consider her feelings. Following the servant, he went into the stone-colored drawing-room and found his sister waiting to receive him. She was dressed in black, without a scrap of white to relieve her frunereal aspect. I did not expect you to come so soon, Sebastian, she said in her rich voice. But I knew you would come sooner or later. I could hardly help coming after what Ruth told me. Her brother was surprised at her composure. What did she tell you? That the red pocket-book belonging to Jenner had been found by her in this house. To be particular, the garret, said Mrs. Marshall, pointing to the table. There it is. He looked at it with repugnance and touched it gingerly. Then he opened it, glanced at the name, and laid it down with a sigh. There was no doubt it had been Jenner's property, the name was clear enough. How did it come into your possession? he asked sharply. That is not an easy question for me to answer. Yet it can be answered and must be answered. How do you know that I will comply with your must? she asked with scorn. Oh, I know you are hard to drive, but in this case you must speak out. I have the means to make you, that is, if you have any regard for your husband. You know how I love him, little as he deserves it. You are talking of the bill. Oh, don't look so astonished. Frank told me of his conversation with you. It was by my advice that he went away. Inez, is it possible you can love so basic creature? Mrs. Marshall sighed. To you, Sebastian, I will say things I will not say to any other person. Little as we love one another, still we are brother and sister. I know you would do much for me. I would do anything for you, Inez. Blood is stronger than water, after all. And you can speak freely to me. Your honor is my honor. I can hold my tongue. Speak out freely. He repeated. I will, she said, and gave him the kindest look that had been in her eyes for many a long year. You know how madly in love I was with Frank when I married him. It was not love. It was infatuation. I believed him to be the most perfect and the most misunderstood man in the whole world. I blamed you for getting him out of the business, and I thought to repair your wrong by marrying him. Well, I did. And then what happened? I can guess the scales fell from your eyes. They did within six months, for even then he deceived me. Yes, after all I had done for him. I had made him rich. I had, but that comes later on in the story. Suffice it to say that I soon found out that I had married a faithless brute. Why did you not get rid of him? I would have helped you. She cast a look around the dismal room and smiled strangely. Because I had committed a sin. I came to look upon Frank as the cross laid upon me for the expiation of that sin. Good heavens, Ines, you don't mean to say you killed Jenner. No, what nonsense am I talking? You were in bed on that night. I did not kill Jenner, she said calmly. Nevertheless I had committed a sin. You shall hear all in good time. Well, I took Frank as my cross and put up all these years with his infidelity and drunkenness and wickedness. I behaved to him as though I still loved him. I have deceived everyone. You certainly deceived me for one, said Mr. Kaz bluntly. I thought you still loved the creature. Loved him? Why, I hated him with all my soul. It was only my religious principles and my desire to expiate my sin that made me tolerate him. In heaven's name what is your sin? I'll tell you soon enough, she said, but do not be afraid. I have not dipped my hands in blood. Let me tell my story in my own way. It is not easy for me to tell it at all. I only do so now in order to avert worse trouble. Knowing her obstinacy her brother saw that it was useless to protest.  Have your own way. I often wish we had kept to our mother's faith, continued Mrs. Marshall. She was of the true church and Catholicism is such a comforting religion. One has a confessor. That would have done me good. I have often longed to confess and relieve my mind. Why, did you not confess to me? I had no reason for making you my confidante, Sebastian, she said icily. Well, I was of the Protestant faith and could not confess, so I had to bear my own sorrow as best I could. Frank tried me at times with his dreadful ways, but I had a whip to manage him. What was the whip? Asked Mr. Cass, struck by the fact that she used almost the same phrase that he had used to her husband. I will tell you shortly, but I mortified my flesh in every way. Look at this house. You know how I love pretty things, and yet I spent my life in the midst of these horrors. I am fond of. See here, Inez, broken her brother. I want to know about this pocketbook. You can tell me your feelings later. Chapter 26 The Penance of Inez Sebastian's abrupt interruption of his sister's enthusiastic confession was as a douche of cold water on glowing iron. The iron forthwith cooled. That is to say Mrs. Marshall from flesh and blood became stone again. Of course I will tell you all you wish to know. She said in even tones with about as much feeling as might have been expected from a cuckoo. But since you will not let me tell my story in my own way, I think it is best that you should put your own questions, then I shall know precisely what you do want. Don't be angry, entreated her brother, but tell me all for the sake of the family. Where did you learn that Frank had committed forgery? At the wagoner's pond. Mr. Cass started from his seat and stared down at his sister in surprise. He remembered what Marshall had told him about that appointment at the wagoner's pond. What, he cried, were you out on the night of the murder? Did you overhear the conversation between Marshall and Jenner? Oh, it was Jenner, was it? She said quite composedly. Well, I guessed as much, though I could never be quite sure.  She looked up with scorn and contempt. Frank never told me anything but what was wrung out of him by fear. Besides, we did not speak of these things. Like him I preferred to let sleeping dogs lie. Her brother had taken his seat again and deep in thought paid little attention to what she was saying. I thought you were in bed on that night with a headache. A woman's excuse, she said coolly. I had no headache, but I had a very keen desire to find out why Frank had an appointment on that night and with whom. I suspected another woman, you can guess her name. Mrs. Jenner. Ah, but he did not go out to meet her, cried Mr. Cass impatiently. He had an appointment with her husband. I found that out later. But I heard him asking one of the servants where the wagoner's pond was, and if he could find it in the dark. I knew then that he intended to go there that night for some purpose. The name of Mrs. Jenner was not mentioned, but as she was in the neighborhood, well, you know what a woman's feelings are. You jumped to conclusions. Yes, they were wrong, but that did not matter. At all events I was satisfied that he did not meet the woman. I slipped out of a side door unknown to everyone. My headache was a pretext that I might be at the meeting place. Had he done so, I would have broken off the engagement. Yes, much as I loved him, or rather, much as I was infatuated, I would have broken it off at the eleventh hour had he put such an insult on me. And yet you married him. Oh, what is the use of that parrot cry, she said impatiently. You have already said that five or six times. Because I am so amazed that your pride did not come to your aid when you knew the use to which he intended to put your money. To him you were not the woman he loved, but the banker upon whom he intended to draw. And yet I married him, she said with a cold smile. Women are strange creatures, I confess. Yet you always considered me proud. See how mistaken you were. I had more weakness than you thought me capable of possessing. I was wildly, madly in love with him. At all events I intended to marry him, and what is more, I intended to get back that incriminating bill from Jenner without the expenditure of a penny. I saw that he had replaced it in his red pocket-book. Well, I made up my mind that I would get that pocket-book. Yet you never guessed the man was Jenner, remarked her brother ironically. I was suspicious, but not certain. However, I did not go after Jenner at once, for I knew where to find him. I wanted Frank to be out of the way before I left my hiding-place. I was behind a hedge, and not alone. What do you mean by that? asked Mr. Cass, startled. I mean what I say. Several times, while I was crouching in the wet grass, I heard the breathing of someone no great distance off. Well, I found that other person. When? Sometime afterwards? On the contrary. The person threw himself in my way within half an hour after I was on my way to the turnpike-house. Wait a moment, cried Mr. Cass, with suppressed excitement. I know who it was—the gypsy Job. Ah! replied Mrs. Marshall without betraying much surprise. Ruth told you something. Jeffrey did. Ruth had told him. Mrs. Marshall rose with a bound. And pray, what has Mr. Heron to do with this matter? A good deal. Rejoined her brother dryly. You may as well sit down, Inez. Jeffrey is perfectly discreet. He is going to marry Ruth, you know. It will be as much to his interest as mine to keep this affair secret. Well, so you met this gypsy blackguard? Yes, halfway on the road to the turnpike-house. In spite of the darkness and the mist, he knew me in a moment. Instinct, I suppose. How could he have met you, had you met him before? Lots of times. I knew the Romany dialect and used to talk to Job. I really wonder at you, Inez, taking up with such scum. As for Ruth, I'll talk to her. She shall have nothing more to do with him. Oh, as to that, remarked his sister, shrugging her shoulders, the creature is dying. He is consumptive and is drinking himself to death. I have placed him in the turnpike-house, without Mr. Heron's permission, by the way, and I allow him a small summer week so that he may die in peace. So that you may keep your secret, you mean? It will soon be a secret no longer. Job, as I say, knew me. He told me that he had been sleeping behind the hedge, near me, I suppose, and had been aroused by the sound of voices. He recognized Frank's voice, for he had often spoken to him, but Jenner he did not know any more than I did. Naturally, Jenner was a comparative stranger in these parts. Go on. Well, Job had heard all about the Red Pocket Book and the bill. I saw in a twinkling that here was the instrument I required. I promised him twenty pounds if he would get me that Red Pocket Book. Inez, did you send the man to murder Jenner? No, I did not. I never thought he would go so far as that, and as a matter of fact, Job has always denied to me that he struck the blow. He certainly would tell you that to save his neck. Well, after I had made this arrangement with him and had told him that Jenner was at the Turnpike House, I returned home. I entered by the side door and slipped up to my room without anyone being the wiser. I certainly was not, said her brother.  What about Job's murdering mission? He did not commit the murder, insisted Mrs. Marshall. He came next day and brought me the pocket book. I opened it, but could not find the bill. Then I accused Job of having taken it. He grinned, but would say nothing. He understand, Sebastian, he had not got the bill, but he wanted to have me in his power. I see, but you could have turned the tables on him by having him arrested for the crime. No, he knew of the bill, of Frank's disgrace. I thought if he were arrested he would tell all, which he certainly would have done. Then Frank would have been prosecuted. Remember, I thought Job had the bill. All these years I have believed he had it in his possession. You do not know the blackmail I have paid that man. He was always worrying me for money. At last, seeing he was ill, I put him into the Turnpike House. And, well, I have told you all that. But now you know why I assisted him. Assisted a murderer? Job denied that he had killed the man. Then how did he get the pocket book? He said that he had met Jenner before he got to the Turnpike House and robbed him of the book.  Jenner had the book when he was in that room before he was killed. Mrs. Jenner said that the book was on the table near the window, and my own opinion is that the blow must have been struck through the window and the book stolen. But why believe Mrs. Jenner more than Job? I will tell you all. The bill was in the pocket book. You yourself saw Jenner put it there. Well, he thought Marshall might steal the bill, so he sewed it up in the body of a toy horse with which his child was playing. Neil kept the horse, and a short time ago he sent it to George, who cut the animal open. The bill was found, and it is now in my possession. So you see, Job could not have taken the pocket book which contained the bill before Jenner got to the house. He must have murdered the man and stolen the book after the bill had been placed inside the horse. But nothing of all this came out at the trial. No one knew anything about it, at least of all Mrs. Jenner. But now you are satisfied that Job committed that murder. I suppose so, it looks like it. Oh, the wretch, to let me think all these years that he had the bill, and that he was innocent of killing the man. Had you no suspicion of his guilt? She thought for a moment. I confess I had, she said after a pause. But you see, I had to put all such suspicions behind my back. If I had denounced Job, I thought he would have produced the bill and ruined Frank. I see. Well, here is the bill. No one knows of it but Heron, and he will say nothing. I thought of keeping it as a useful whip for your husband should he treat you cruelly. But now that I find you do not care for him, I think it had better be destroyed. No, she said, putting it into her pocket. I will keep it to hold over Frank myself. I hate him and would gladly divorce him, which I could easily do. But I am as proud of the family name as you are, and I do not want a scandal. So I shall not separate from him. But now I shall know how to make him behave himself. She tapped her pocket with a grim smile. Did you ever speak to him about the Red Pocket Book? No, he never knew I had it. I put it away and afterwards sent it up to the Garrett, where I thought it would be safe. Hardly anyone ever goes there but myself. Besides, if I had told Frank, he would have worried Job about giving him the bill, and Heaven only knows what would have happened then. No, I was wrong, I suppose, but I acted for the best. When Frank told me that he had seen you and that the bill was in your possession, I went up to the Garrett, intending to find the pocketbook and destroy it. Then I was foolish enough to ask Ruth. She found it by chance and, well, you know the rest. Yes, I know the rest, said Mr. Cass grimly, and among other things.  Inez, I know you always hated her, but would you have let her lose her life? No, if she had been in danger of that, I would have come forward and told all I knew, even at the cost of disgrace. I would not have had the blood of a fellow creature on my soul. But, to tell you the truth, Sebastian, as Mrs. Jenner did not defend herself, I really believed she was guilty and Job innocent. He confessed to having robbed Jenner. She would say nothing. So, of the two, I thought Job the innocent one. Can you blame me? Partly. I blame you for not having told me this long ago. I always suspected your husband. Now I know that he is innocent, and I should have known it all along, seeing that he was in the house, in my house, when the crime was committed. If you had spoken out, I would have managed to get Mrs. Jenner off in some way without exposing the whole of this dreadful story. Job should be punished. Think what that would mean to us all, said his sister, warningly. I will contrive to evade the worst, but I must have that poor woman released. End of chapters 25 and 26


Nef used to be in the projects all day cussing down him cuss you live a better life.


The use of textbooks in university courses is as common as ice cream on a hot summer day. On average, students in the US spend about $600 per year on textbooks. Canadian students spend around $385 per semester. Commercial textbooks are expensive, and students report that these prices negatively impact their learning and time to graduation. But as some professors have discovered, there is an alternative to the expensive textbooks that come from commercial publishers. These alternatives are called Open Educational Resources, or OER. OER are teaching and learning materials that are free, and give students permissions to access, read, and share them. These resources come with licenses that allow instructors to revise or remix them to better fit with their courses. Some professors already use OER. Others have not even heard of them, but when they do, they wonder if these free resources are as effective or of the same quality as the textbooks they currently use. Over the past few years, several researchers have been studying Open Educational Resources. Dr. John Hilton recently published a systematic analysis of the effectiveness of these resources and of the perceptions students and professors have about them. Based on the results of this research, we think that Open Educational Resources have the potential to make higher education more accessible to students. Dr. Hilton's paper focused on the available literature. The literature consisted of 16 empirical studies that examined courses where OER had replaced traditional textbooks. Some of these studies looked at learning outcomes and student success rates to judge how effective these resources were. Others looked at the perception students and professors had of Open Educational Resources. Here's what the analysis of these studies showed. The studies that looked at the effectiveness of OER generally compared groups of students who had used the resources to groups of students that had used the textbook. Most of these studies found that students who used the OER had higher test scores, lower failure rates, or lower dropout rates than students who had used the traditional textbook. Only one study suggested that OER were connected with lower levels of success for some of the students. The studies that looked at student and professor perceptions of OER revealed that the majority of students and professors viewed Open Educational Resources positively. A sizable majority felt that OER were of better quality than traditional textbooks. About half said that they were of similar quality, and only a few thought that OER were inferior. Students liked OER because they were free. Professors liked the open content and up-to-date material. In his paper, Dr. Hilton is careful to note that none of the studies he reviewed claimed that OER caused higher test scores or fewer dropouts. Many studies had design limitations that might have influenced their findings. For example, in a number of studies, the Open Educational Resources were just one part of a larger course redesign, such as flipping or blending. Full summaries and critiques of each of the studies are included in the paper, and can be found on the website of the Open Education Group, which is constantly being updated to include new material. To recap, there are two key findings in this work. First, using Open Educational Resources does not decrease student learning. Students generally did better, not worse, when using free OER compared to expensive textbooks. Second, OER are generally perceived to be as good as if not better than traditional textbooks. Students and professors both expressed that OER were of high quality, and unlike printed textbooks, they offered flexibility. These findings should lead us to question the value of traditional textbooks. As Dr. Hilton asks, if the average college student spends so much money on textbooks, and yet performs no better than the student who uses free OER, what exactly is being purchased with all that money? A more detailed discussion of the significant implications can be found in the published paper. Thanks a lot for tuning in. If you liked the summary of this paper, please share it with your friends, colleagues and students.