Chapter 7 and 8 of the Turnpike House by Fergus Hume. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 7 Webster's Childhood Knowing what he did of Neil Webster, Mr. Cass was quite prepared to see him fade upon hearing the terrible truth, but to his unconcealed astonishment the young man beyond losing his color remained unmoved. I should like to hear the whole story, please," he said quietly. Mr. Cass was almost frightened by his calmness. A glass of wine. No, I want nothing. You have told me the worst. What remains to be said can affect me but little. The whole story, please, from the beginning. When I am in possession of the facts I may be able to see some way of saving my mother from her unjust fate. Her unjust fate! Repeated Mr. Cass with a flush. Why, man alive, she had all the justice the English law could give. Did she admit her guilt? She neither admitted nor denied it. Not a word would she say good or bad, for or against. Throughout the trial she maintained an absolute silence and went to prison uncomplainingly. To my mind that looks like innocence. The merchant moved restlessly in his chair. Do not force me to say unpleasant things," he remarked irritably. I want you to say exactly what you feel, retorted Neil. I am here to hear the truth, however disagreeable. It is only by knowing all that I can help my mother. If you will not tell me, then I must see the lawyers who were concerned in the case. I don't think they will mind giving me pain. But if you are the friend I take you to be, you will speak out. His self-possession was so much at variance with his usual demeanor that Mr. Cass stared. If you will have it then, he said roughly, I believe your mother was guilty. Had there been the slightest chance of proving her innocence she would have done so for your sake. Ah, my poor mother! Nail-space grew soft and tender, and a look of deep affection came into his eyes. My mother! How she loved me! Can you remember her love? Asked Mr. Cass doubtfully. Now I can. He raised his hand to his forehead. It all comes back to me, all. That dream has given me the key to the past, and the memories of my childhood rush back upon me. I know how I hated my father. His face grew dark, and I know also how badly he treated my mother, if she killed him she did right. Mr. Cass shuttered. I quite believe all that, he said dryly.   Very probably, remarked Nail just as dryly, indeed I did try. What? I don't understand. I dare say not, seeing my mother kept silence from the time of her arrest. But I remember that on the night my father was murdered at the Turnpike House I flew at him with a knife. I forgot all that took place after that, except that I was in the room and saw his dead body lying under the open window. The open window. He repeated quietly and with significance. Do not forget that, Mr. Cass. What do you mean? I mean that someone else might have killed him. The window was open. Why should it have been open unless the true murderer had gained entrance by it and had fled through it when his deed was accomplished? I do not believe that my mother is guilty in spite of her silence. She has some reason for holding her tongue. I can't think what the reason can be, replied Mr. Cass, wearily leaning his head on his hands. For love of you she would have chosen to remain free. Yet when a word, according to you, might have saved her, she held her tongue and risked the gallows. For the first time Nail Webster shuddered. How was it she escaped that, he asked in a low voice. The case was so extraordinary that a petition to the home secretary was got up and he commuted the sentence to one of imprisonment for life. Yet I must tell you the general opinion was that she was guilty. She was pitied for all that when the story of her husband's brutality came out in the evidence.  Jenner deserved his fate. He treated his wife abominably. She had been left to starve, after having been put to many shifts. Webster raised his hand with a cry of pain. I remember, don't, he said. My poor mother! I can recall in some degree, that is so far as a child could have understood, our terrible life in London. Then we came down here. Yes, I did what I could for your mother, for I had always respected her very much. But she was a difficult person to manage, and she refused my help on the ground that it was charity. So it was, said Nail, between his teeth, and I have lived on your charity ever since. My dear lad, Mr. Cass laid his hand on the young man's arm. Don't be so thin-skinned. Whatever I have done you have more than repaid me by your success. And if you feel that you cannot bring yourself to accept the money I have spent upon your education, why then pay me a sum to be agreed upon between us? Surely that will set your mind at rest. Nail shook his head. The obligation remains the same, he said gloomily. I shall ever remain grateful to you, and I will repay the money. I know that whosoever else may be as scoundrel and the world is full of them, you at least are a good man. Mr. Cass winced as Nail held out his hand. But the feeling passed away in a moment and he did not refuse the proper friendship. The best of us are bad, he said with a sigh, but I do my best to behave as a man should. However, he added, glancing at the clock, it is growing late. Would you hear the rest of this story to-morrow morning? No, and Nail settled himself resolutely in his chair. Now that I have heard so much I want to know all. My mother lived in the Turnpike House, did she not? Yes, it was a tumbledown old place and belonged to Heron's father. To Heron's father, Nail made a rye face for he did not like the idea. She paid no rent for it, continued Mr. Cass, taking no notice of the interruption. Heron refused to accept any. Then she did sewing for several people in the village. My sister, Mrs. Marshall, who was then unmarried, gave her work and sometimes food when she would accept it, which was not often. In this way then she lived and found all her joy in you. I have a faint memory of that terrible life, said Nail musingly. My poor mother, with her bright hair and blue eyes, always so kind and tender to me. Then that night, ah, how it all comes back to me! The dream, the dream! And in his agitation he rose to his feet. It was a shadow of the past, that dream. I was playing with a toy horse by the fire. My mother was sewing. Then he came, my father. I remember running at him with a knife and afterwards, nothing. Is that the very last of your memories? asked Mr. Cass, watching him keenly and with an uneasiness he found it hard to disguise.  Yes. No, that is, I remember the dead body with the blood. And afterwards the cold, the mist, the—the— He made a gesture as though brushing away the past. I remember nothing more. The cold and mist are easily explained, Mr. Cass said after a pause. Your mother, after the murder, took you in her arms and fled from the scene of her crime. Don't say that, cried the young man. Give her the benefit of the doubt. Mr. Cass smiled sadly. Unfortunately, there was no doubt, my dear boy. Your father was killed with a buck-handled knife which had been used to cut bread, and— The knife! The knife! muttered Nail, straining his memory. Yes, it was a buck-handled knife I ran at him. The knife was your mother's and was found beside the body of the dead man. Undoubtedly your father came back after his release from prison and insulted the woman he had ruined. I can't bear it, not a word more of that, only the fact.  How do you know that? Because the table was spread for supper and the knife was of the kind that is used to cut bread. When I remember something about eating, muttered Nail, go on, please. The murder was discovered next morning by a woman who had gone to the Turnpike house to get what Mrs. Jenner was doing for her.  The police were informed and search was made.  She had succumbed to cold but she still lived. But she had died all together, said Nail, sadly. You were in a high fever, raving mad. What did I rave about?  That had something to do with bringing the crime home to her. Cruel, cruel, to take a child's ravings as evidence. That was not done, said Mr. Cass sharply. The law treated the prisoner. Nail winced, perfectly fairly. But the suspicion was instilled into the hearts of those who had heard your words. She didn't deny the charge. She denied nothing, hardly opened her mouth, in fact. I got a lawyer to her. I saw her myself and implored her to speak, but she obstinately refused. All she asked was that I should take charge of you which I promised I would do. Nail looked up sharply and asked the pointed question. Why? I don't think you should ask me that, Mr. Cass said somewhat pained. Have I not proved myself a friend to you? Was it not natural that I should feel sympathy for a girl who had been a member of my household?  Why should you suspect me of any motive save that of sorrow for the ruin of a woman whom I had liked as a bright girl and pity for a helpless child? Give me if I am wrong. Nail shook hands with much penitence. But I am suspicious now of all the world. Heaven help me. Go on. There is very little more to tell. I took charge of you as I had promised, and I placed you with Mrs. Gent, who is an old servant of mine. You were seriously ill and were not expected to live.  I am glad I did not, cried Nail with vehemence. I have lived to vindicate my mother's innocence. You are not likely to where others have failed, Mr. Cass said sadly. However, although I thought it would be better for yourself and for all concerned that you should not recover, I did not feel justified in letting you slip through my fingers. I got the best doctors to see you and they managed to pull you round after months of suspense. But the memory of your childhood, up to the time of your illness, was gone from you forever. It was just as well, seeing how terrible that childhood had been. I made no attempt to revive your dormant memory and I warned Mrs. Gent not to say anything either. We supplied you with a fictitious past. I know, said Nail with a faint smile, the American parents. I believed in them until I went to New York. Then I made inquiries. But as I could find no trace of them and could hear nothing about them, I began to doubt their existence. If it had not been for my relating that dream you would not have informed me of the truth. No, Mr. Cass said honestly. I would not, seeing what pain it must have inflicted upon you. I should have simply requested you to forget Ruth and go away. The rest I would have spared you. I thank you for your forbearance, Nail said politely, but coldly. But Providence knew that I had a duty to perform and so gave me back the past. Oh, it was no miracle, he went on with a shrug. I am not a believer in the supernatural as you know.  No. I confess that I am amazed that the dream should have been so accurate, or indeed that it should have come to you at all. Things I have heard are only the impressions of our waking hours and more confused forms, said Webster quietly, and as I had received no injury to the brain itself my memory was only dormant not destroyed. It was awakened by the sight of the face in that photograph. Ah, so it was, Mr. Cass said, and the sight recalled your instinctive hatred for the man. That was why you fainted. Exactly. And no doubt all that night my brain was busily running back through the years. Then I found the turnpike house. What took you there? Nail shrugged his shoulders. It might have been an accident, but I do not think it was. My own belief is that the awakening of memory drew me there and when I got into that room all came back to me in my sleep. However, I know the truth now, so nothing else matters. Once forth I devote myself to proving the innocence of my mother. You will never do that, Mr. Cass said decisively. You think so because you believe her guilty. I believe her wrongs drove her mad and that it was an affit of madness she killed her husband. Yes. Well, I don't agree with you, Neo said. The first thing I intend to do is to see her. Where is she? Cass wrote down the information on a slip of paper and threw it across the table to the young man. But I think you are starting on a wild goose chase, he said. Take my advice and leave the matter alone. You are Neil Webster, the violinist. You have no connection with crime. No. I am Gilbert Jenner, the son of a murdered man and of a womanly wrongfully accused. I loved your daughter, Mr. Cass. I love her still, but I give her up. I will not see her again. Tomorrow morning I leave this house forever. No, said his host with decision. If you intend to make an attempt to prove your mother's innocence I have a right to help you and to know your plans. So be it. Do your appointed work. He offered his hand. As to Ruth, Neil interrupted him. She is a dream of the past. My new life has nothing to do with love but with revenge. The next morning Neil Webster was conspicuous by his absence. His excuse was that he had been suddenly recalled to town on business. Mrs. Marshall was not deceived and on the first available opportunity she drew her brother aside. You have got rid of him, I see. She remarked with evident satisfaction. But Ruth will not submit quietly to all this. In the first place she will refuse to believe that he has given her up, such as sacrifice is beyond the conception of a pretty girl. In the second. Wait a bit, Ines. Let us dispose of number one first of all. Ruth will be convinced that Webster has given her up for the simple reason that he has left a letter telling her so. Ah, then that is why she has not come down to breakfast. I dare say she is weeping and storming in her room. I'll go and— No, no, leave her alone. If you go and annoy her there is no knowing what she will do. You know how headstrong. You should have trained her better, said his sister. All the training in the world will not tame our mother's blood in her or in you for the matter of that. I know I am strong-minded if that is what you mean.  No doubt we both mean the same thing. With the difference finished Mrs. Marshall. Jenny Braun was loud in her lamentations when she came to hear of the master's departure. She went at once to Ruth and found that young lady far from tearful pacing her bedroom in a towering rage. Jenny paused at the door. She saw that Ruth had a pencil-scribbled note in her hand. What is the matter? asked Miss Braun, amazed at this exhibition of temper. Ruth bounced upon her. Matter enough—she cried, flourishing the letter—here is Neil gone to town in the most unexpected manner, without even an excuse to me. Read this, Jenny. He says he has called away on business, said the young lady, when she had mastered the contents of the note. Well, that is, no doubt the truth. The truth? Shall. You don't know men, my dear. They tell lies in the most plausible manner. But Neil cannot deceive me. All I want to know is who the woman is. Miss Braun's freckled face grew crimson. You have no right to say such a thing as that. It is not like a lady. I am a woman before I am a lady, cried Ruth, and a jealous woman at that. Don't I know how all the creatures swarm after him just because he is handsome and famous? He has told me all sorts of things about the notes and the presents they send him, and— It was not nice of him to do that, remarked Jenny for once blaming her idol. Well, Ruth dropped into a chair fairly worn out by her rage. It was not his fault. I worried him into telling me everything. He did not want to. I must do him that justice. How did you worry him into betraying others? You are a woman, and I ask that. Oh, I forgot. You are not in love. Or rather, no man is in love with you.  Besides, he did not mention names. He only told me that he got heaps of presents and letters. But I want to know who the woman is he has gone up to meet. I dare say there is no woman. My dear Jenny, you don't know men. Your Webster is devoted to you. So he says, huh, Ruth, why he shows it in every way. I'll put on, cried Miss Cass, determined not to be pacified. But I'll get the truth out of my father. I hear from the servants that Neil was with him in the library for three hours last night. Then that is the explanation.  Nonsense.  No. There is something else, a woman I am sure. But I'll get the truth out of my father. I have as wild a temper as auntie Nez when I'm roused. I can be nice enough, Jenny, as you know. But oh, how nasty I can be when I make up my mind. You have evidently made up your mind now, said Miss Braun, who had known all about Ruth's temper when they were at school together. And at this juncture, judging from previous experience, she considered it prudent to retire before she herself could be brought under the harrow. Ruth left alone did not rage any more. She put on her prettiest dress, bathed her eyes, which were reddened with tears, and went down to try and cajole her father. Mr. Cass was in the library, and one look at her face was enough to tell him why she had come. He argued, however, from her studied amiability that she wasn't a particularly aggravating mood. But long experience of his mother and sister had taught him how to deal with this sinister sweetness. He was immediately on his guard. For as he well knew if the truth was to be got out of him, his daughter was the one to get it. Dear Papa, she said, sinking into a chair beside the desk and patting his hand. I am in great trouble. I know. Determined that he would carry the war into the enemy's camp. Mr. Webster was with me last night. Ruth started to her feet with a tragic expression on her face. And you have forbidden our marriage, she cried, and her air was that of a sit-in's. What else did you expect? Her father asked. Neil is a good fellow, but he is not the son-in-law I want. And indeed I should be sorry for his own sake to see him marry you. He is too gentle and kind. What you want, my young lady, is a master. No man shall ever master me, his daughter said calmly. And has he given me up without a word? No, he said a good many words. But I am adamant so far as this ridiculous marriage is concerned. He accepted the inevitable after some fighting and took his departure this morning before you were up. I see, he added, glancing at the note in her hands, that he has written to you. Yes, Ruth gave it to him, but it explains nothing. It explains all there is to explain, said Mr. Cass. Let the matter drop. Neil has gone away on business. So we will say nothing about his love for you. You'll soon get over it. Indeed I shan't, sobbed the girl, now on the tearful tack. It is cruel of you to send him away when I love him so. I don't believe he gave me up because you refused. There is something else. There is nothing else. Mr. Cass's tone was decisive. But Ruth's fine ear caught something of hesitation in his voice, and she dropped her haggard ship from her eyes with a triumphant air. I knew there was something else. What is it? Something about his parents? Mr. Cass started and changed color at this chance shot. Good heavens, child!  He said, and no sooner had he said it than he repented his rashness. For thereby she had gained an advantage which she would not be slow to seize. Why? She said very slowly with her eyes fixed on her father's perturbed face. It was just this way. Well told me about his parents having died in America and how you had brought him up at Bognor. Did he tell you nothing else? Mr. Cass was beginning to feel that she was too much for him. This was an opportunity which the girl was too clever to lose. Well, he did not tell me everything, she said, he couldn't, you know. I'm glad he had that much sense, Mr. Cass said with relief. Ah, Papa, now I have caught you, cried Miss Cass, clapping her hands. I know nothing, then, except that you brought him up. But you admit that there is something else which has stopped the marriage. He saw that he had been overreached. I can tell you nothing, he said. Very well, Papa, she said, turning to go. I'll write to Neil and ask him to tell me the truth. He won't tell you. Oh, yes, he will. He loves me and I can get anything out of him. Girl, Ruth, her father seized her arm. If you can be sensible, do not write to Webster. He has gone out of your life of his own free will. I will never, never believe that, and she flushed angrily. Do you think I don't know when a man loves me or not? I will see him and learn the truth. I forbid it, and Ruth saw that her father was very angry. With the cunning of a woman who is determined to get her way, she suddenly yielded, telling that she could best gain her ends under the mask of peace. Very well, Papa, she said with a few tears, but it is very hard on me. I love him and you have sent him away, for no fault of his own, I'm sure. He is not in fault. He is unfortunate. In his parents, she asked, amongst other things, was the reply. My dear child, he took her hand. If you are wise, you will leave things as they are. I should like you to marry Heron, but if you do not wish it, I will not press the matter. As to Neal, put him out of your head once and for all. He can never be your husband. Now go." And he pushed her gently outside the library door. What on earth can it be, thought the girl, as she took her way to the winter garden? Has Neal committed some crime, or has? She had reached this point in her meditations when she suddenly came upon Mr. Marshall. He was pale and had a look of alarm on his face. When he saw her, he gave a startled cry. Why, good gracious uncle, what is the matter? asked Ruth. Oh, it's you, replied Marshall. I thought, never mind what I thought, I'm upset. Oh aunt Ines has been giving you a bad time, said the girl, with some amusement. She knew very well what a tight hand that lady kept over her elderly Don Juan, and when her uncle nodded, she continued, I am upset myself, uncle. He has gone away. Are you talking of Neal Webster? He asked with an obvious effort. Yes. Did you know how much I cared for him, uncle, and what's the matter? For Mr. Marshall, with an ejaculation, had jumped up and was looking at her with an expression of dismay. Nothing is the matter, he gasped, and it was quite evident that he was not speaking the truth. But I must confess I did not know that you cared for him. Ridiculous. Why, he could never marry you. So Papa says, replied Ruth somewhat disconsolently, he has refused his consent. Quite right, quite right, Ruth, put the ocean between yourself and that man, but never have anything to do with him. It is, he looked round and approached his lips to her ear, it is dangerous. Don't say I told you. And before she could recover from her astonishment, he had slipped away with an alacrity surprising and so heavy a man. Ruth remained standing, utterly perplexed by the manner of her usually careless and good-natured uncle. I wonder if he knows why Neal has gone away, she thought. I will find out the reason, she went on to herself. I am as obstinate as they are, since they won't tell me I will write to Neal. This she proceeded to do demanding to know the cause of his departure. If you love me as you say you will not give me up at my father's bidding, I am ready to brave his anger for your sake. Can you not be as brave as I? The reply came as she had expected by return, and it was with a violently beating heart that she tore it open. I must give you up, he wrote. It is in vain to fight against the destiny that parts us. I love you still, but it is my duty to forget you. Do this same, for only in that way can you be happy. Oh, he is mad, cried Ruth angrily, and if he thinks he can put me off in this way he will find his mistake. I will know, she stamped her foot. I will, I will. Notwithstanding Ruth's refusal of him, Jeffrey Heron had not gone away. He was too deeply in love with her for that, and remained like a moth bluttering round a candle. Sometimes he felt annoyed with himself, but he was no longer his own master. Then, much to his surprise, the girl sought him of her own free will. He was delighted, though he wisely strove not to show it. She suggested a walk in order that they might not be interrupted. After some preliminary skirmishing, she led the conversation up to the departure of Neil Webster. I am sorry, she said with a sigh. You need hardly tell me that, replied Jeffrey, not very amably, for he was annoyed by the speech and the sigh. I know he is a lucky man. If he is lucky he does not value his luck. What do you mean? I understood from Miss Braun that you were engaged to marry him. Ah, that's just it. I was engaged, but now he has gone away without a word. I don't believe he cares one bit about me. What a fool, O Ruth, if you only knew.  Well, I refused because I could not really love you, but you know that I do like you extremely. Even that is something. And if it were not for Neil, well, I might bring myself to marry you. No, he said firmly, I also have my pride. Much as I want you to be my wife I will not consent to that unless you can tell me that you love me. Won't liking do? No, gruffly, liking will certainly not do. I might grow to love you in time. I wish you could, but what does all this mean? She thought for a moment, then she said, I hope you won't think me bold for speaking openly, but the fact is, well, I was engaged to Neil and he has broken our engagement. Ah, exclaimed the young man, and how can I remedy the situation? Go to him and ask why he went away. I cannot. Do you expect me to bring my rival back to you? If you loved me and wished me to be happy you would. I don't want to see you happy with another fellow, and his manner was eminently human. I want you to myself. Well, you will not get me by behaving in this way, cried Ruth, now thoroughly exasperated.  Jeffrey temporized. Supposing Webster were to persist in his refusal to come back to you, would there be a chance for me? Miss Cass looked straight before her with her nose in the air. I really don't know, she said codely. I make no bargains. Very well, said Jeffrey most unexpectedly. I'll do it. End of chapters seven and eight. Chapters nine and ten of the Turnpike House by Fergus Hume. This Libra Box recording is in the public domain. Chapter nine. The Embassy of Jeffrey Herron. Within that week the House Party at Hollyhokes broke up. Mr. and Mrs. Marshall returned to their own house, which was only four miles away. Jenny Braun went back to Bedford Park and the family of nine, and Jeffrey Herron took his way to his London chambers. So Ruth was left to the society of her father, and she made up her mind that she would say no more about Neil. Indeed, she half intimated to Mr. Cass that she might after all marry her other lover, an intimation which delighted the worthy merchant beyond words.  Believe me, you would do wisely. You see, my love, you could not have been really in love with Webster since you have so soon forgotten him. She answered him meekly enough. I dare say you are right, Papa. Neil has behaved very badly to me, and I think no more of him. Poor fellow, sighed Mr. Cass. Really, Papa, exclaimed the girl. You are difficult to please. At your desire I have given him up. Now you think I have treated him badly. My dear, I said nothing of the sort, protested the embarrassed Mr. Cass. All the same I wish he had not set his heart on you. Oh, he has not done that, or he would not have been so ready to give me up. My dear, you do not understand. Ruth went away thinking over this last speech. No, she murmured to herself. I do not understand, but I shall soon. I ought to hear from Jeffrey in a few days. After all, I am really beginning to think I like him better than Neil. What Jenny said was quite right, although I would not for the world acknowledge it to her. I am not the wife for a man like him. I want to be considered, and I am sure Jeffrey would do all in his foward to please me and make me happy. Neil? Well, I think he might have been rather a trial. A week after Neil's departure, Mr. Cass received a letter from him which caused the worthy merchant much perplexity. He shut himself up in his library to think it over. Webster had gone away with the fullest intention of proving his mother's innocence, yet this short letter intimated that he had abandoned the idea. I have seen my mother, he wrote, and I see it is best to take your advice and let sleeping dogs lie. I am going abroad shortly, and it is not likely that I shall see you for many months. Never again will I come to your house, and I only hope that you will impress upon Ruth the necessity of forgetting me as speedily as possible. I cannot trust myself to see her again, so I must leave this task to you. Poor lad, sighed Mr. Cass as he finished the letter. It is bitter for him that he should have to suffer for the sins of his parents, but I wonder why he has stopped short on his endeavour to prove Mrs. Jenner's innocence. What can she have said to him? I have a good mind to see him, or her. He added as an afterthought, then changed his mind. No, it would only revive sad memories. The matter is settled by this letter and it is best to let sleeping dogs lie. I will think no more of it. So he said, but so he did not do. His conscience frequently took pleasure in reminding him of the whole story and, despite all his philosophical resolves to let sleeping dogs lie, he knew very well that he ought to rouse them. But this he could not bring himself to do. Too much was at stake and a bolder man than Mr. Cass would have shrank from the consequences. In this frame of mind he did his best to argue that he was right and he failed in the attempt. Meanwhile, Jeffrey was in town. He had learnt from Ruth that Neil occupied rooms in the Waverly Hotel in Cherry Square a quiet, unpretentious establishment. Three times, Heron called at the hotel only to be told that Mr. Webster was out of town. The fourth time he was more lucky and found the young man at home. Neil Webster looked extremely ill. Dark circles under his eyes told of sleepless nights and his restless movements hinted at a nervous system which had gone to pieces. Moreover, his lips were dry, his eyes feverishly bright. The room was luxuriously furnished. The prevailing colour was a dark red and on the walls were hung portraits of his favourite composers. Curiously enough, the furniture was upholstered in a soft shade of grey, the effect of which in the warm, tinted room was, to say the least of it, somewhat odd. A revolving bookcase filled with books, mostly of poems, stood near Louis Kain's Escortoir. But the glory of the room was a magnificent grand piano standing alone at one end of the apartment. I suppose you are surprised to see me, Webster, said the young squire abruptly. Well, I must admit that I am. We could hardly be called the best of friends at any time, I think. Still, we have not been enemies, Webster, because two men may happen to be rivals. They need not have a bad opinion of each other. You are very good, Neil said faintly. Don't be sarcastic. There is no need, I assure you. The remark made Webster laugh. Why do you laugh? Asked the other sharply. I was wondering whether I could make a friend of you and the thought of our relative positions with Miss Cass made me scout the possibility. We can never be friends. Why not? I like you very well. I don't see why you should be so bitter to me. I am not bitter. In fact, you would be my friend, I think, if it were not for Miss Cass. I am ready to be your friend in any case, said Heron quickly, and don't think me a mean brute to hate a man because he is more lucky than I. Lucky, sighed Neil, sitting up. Heaven help you if you are not a luckier man than I. Well, when we know one another better, we may be friends. I need one badly enough, Heaven knows. But first of all, to pave the way to our better acquaintance, why have you come here? I will answer you frankly. Miss Cass has informed me that you have broken off your engagement to her. Now you know that I am very much in love with her and that I wish her to be my wife. She loves you, I think. No, pardon me, Webster said, lifting one thin hand. She does not really care for me. I have come to that conclusion after much thought. She admires my talents, but you possess what wins a woman's eyes and her heart in the long run. Strength. You are complimentary, Heron said good-humoredly, but I think most women would admire you. All I want to know is whether your engagement with Miss Cass is really at an end, because in that case I'll sail in and try my luck. Webster lent back. It was hard to give up this girl, and although he had really done so, yet there was the official announcement to be made. But it had to be done for knowing what he knew he felt that no truly honest man in his place would hold her to her promise. So Neil braced himself up to make the sacrifice and spoke out with decision. My engagement to Miss Cass is at an end, he said. She will never be my wife, nor is it probable that I shall ever see her again. She is free to marry you. Indeed, I hope she will. And here his voice quivered. I wish you joy. Well, Heron said thoughtfully, I can't deny that I'm glad to hear this, for Ruth Cass is all the world and more to me. At the same time I am sorry, for I can see that you feel this very deeply. Is it of your own free will that you do this? And he eyed Webster curiously. In one way it is, in another it is not. A few weeks ago I had a right to marry her, now I have none. Can I help you? Heron asked. No, no, impossible. The man was so shaken and ill that Jeffrey asked no more questions. He went over and shook hands. As you have withdrawn, I will try my luck. But I also may fail. And if I do, I hope I shall bear the disappointment as well as you do. If you will allow me, I will come and see you again. I shall be glad to see you. But are you not going back to Holly Oaks? No, replied Jeffrey. I shall be in town for a week or so, and if I can see you again, so much the better. Come by all means, then. I am usually at home during the evening. I'm afraid I can't ask you to dine just now. I really do not feel well enough. That's all right, Heron said brightly. I know you feel bad, but you have behaved like a Briton. That was Jeffrey thought there could not be a higher praise. And if I can help you in any way I will, I have an idea you know that we shall be friends after all. We have made a good start anyhow, said Neil. Goodbye. When Jeffrey had gone, the unhappy man buried his face in the sofa cushions and wept bitterly. He had crushed down his feelings throughout the interview, but now nature would have her way. Oh heavens, he wailed. Shall I never know peace again? Chapter 10 The Great Secret It was small wonder that Neil had decided to give Ruth up. For the first time he saw what he was, a miserable creature who in marrying would be committing a deadly sin. It was not to be thought of. And he thanked heaven that he had self-command sufficient to put temptation away from him. His renunciation of her was to him the least of his sorrows. He found some comfort in the visits of Jeffrey Heron who came almost every day and sat long with the unfortunate man, although he could not in the least understand his sufferings. But he strove to talk of general subjects which would draw his mind away from the one on which he was brooding. And in the main he succeeded, though when he had gone, Neil always relapsed into the torture of thought once he had been drawn for the moment. During these visits Neil observed his visitor closely and very soon came to the conclusion that he was a right good fellow with vastly more heart than the general mass of humanity. Once or twice he found himself on the point of confiding in him and asking his advice, but a feeling of dread withheld him. He liked Heron, he enjoyed his company, and he was afraid of losing him. So he tried to put himself aside and insisted that he was not as ill as he looked. But the crisis came one evening when Jeffrey was with him. Neil had been very ill all day and when the young squire entered shortly after eight o'clock he found him lying on the sofa almost in a fainting condition. Jeffrey was alarmed. I tell you what, old chap, you should see a doctor, he said. Neil shook his head. Doctors can do no good. All their drugs cannot cure me. What is it, Macbeth says? Thou canst not minister to a mind diseased. But your mind is not diseased. How do you know that? He clenched his hands. I have not told you my secret. No, and I don't want to know it. What? You don't want to know why I gave Miss Cass up? No, for then I should have to tell her she would get it out of me in some way.  I know what one woman is at least and she is a mother, murmured Neil. No, you must not tell Ruth. It could do no good and might do much harm. Then speak of something else. You are exciting yourself unnecessarily. Even as he spoke the nerve storm came on with unusual violence. The wretched man seemed possessed by seven demons which tore him in pieces. He rose from his seat and strode furiously about the room, trying to prevent himself from crying out. Finally he dropped exhausted into a chair and sobbed violently. Jeffrey Heron quite astonished at this outburst, hastily got a glass of water, but in seizing it Webster broke it with the strength of his grasp. I must tell you, I must, he panted. I must tell someone or die. My mother is in prison, on a charge of murder. She was accused of killing, killing, I say, my father. And he fell back, weeping, trembling, completely crushed. Good heavens, cried Heron, stepping back. His pity for the poor young fellow was sincere and now he felt he could understand in some degree what a torture his life had been to him. He could understand moreover why Neil had surrendered all claim to the hand of Ruth. You, you won't tell her. No, on my honor I won't, said Jeffrey. I wish you had not told me, but now that I do know your secret is at any rate safe with me. The Valyrian, said Neil, nodding towards the sideboard and while Heron got it, he loosened his collar and drenched himself with cold water. Then he mixed a stiff dose of the drug and drank it with a sigh of relief. Heron looked at him anxiously. I had better go now, hadn't I? He said, you must go to bed. Tomorrow morning. No, no, I shall be all right soon. The Valyrian will soothe me. I have told you so much that I must tell you all. I should have said nothing about it, but for the nervous fit which came over me just now. Sit down. Accordingly, Jeffrey waited, letting a cigar the while. Now that the information had been imparted to him almost against Webster's will, he was anxious to hear the whole story. He determined that Ruth at least should never know it. Try as she might, she would never get it out of him. He made up his mind, too, that he would be a friend to the unfortunate creature who was so cruelly afflicted. Not only that, but he would give what advice and aid lay in his power to ameliorate the situation. But he doubted whether the position could be amended. Neil thanked him by a look and returned to his sofa in a quieter frame of mind. The fury of the attack had left him weak and faint, but he insisted on speaking and as he did so, his strength gradually came back. To Jeffrey, this sudden recuperation seemed a little short of miraculous, for he was quite unaware of the power of the nerves to recover themselves. I had better begin by asking you a few questions, he began. But are you sure you are strong enough? I shall be all right directly. The truth has to be told now, and moreover I want your advice. I'll do anything in my power, Heron said. You are a good fellow. How I have misunderstood you. Well, I will repay you by giving up Ruth to you. I shall never marry her, nor indeed anyone. Heaven help me. Why not, Jeffrey asked. You have seen what I am. What sort of husband or father should I make? But this is beside the point. Here what I have to tell and advise me what to do. In the first place, do you know the Turnpike house? Great heavens, are you talking about that murder? Yes, I dare say you remember it. Remember it, I should think so. Why, nothing was talked about at West Ham for months but that crime. A man was found in the house stabbed to the heart. His wife was accused of the murder she was taken with her child while trying to escape. Yes, was the calm reply. My father was the murdered man. My mother was the woman accused of the crime, and I, the child. Then your name is Jenner. Yes, a name to be proud of, is it not? But I have not the courage to take it. Ah, he shuddered. Think if all that were known. How could I appear in public? People would come not to hear me play but to see a man who had been connected with a mysterious crime whose mother was suffering punishment for that crime. I should kill myself if it were known.  You are absolutely safe with me. But if Ruth should ask you, Ruth shall never hear it from me. When I said just now that she might cajole me, I was thinking of trivial things, but this terrible story shall remain a secret forever. You can speak to me as you would to a confessor. There are some things, Webster, which a man does not do, and this is one of them. I am glad you have told me.  Now listen, and he recounted all the circumstances, his dream, and the causes which had led up to his identification as the son of the accused woman. Jeffrey was more startled than ever, especially when Mr. Cass's name was mentioned. "'And does he know all this?' he asked. Then in reply to Neal's nod, he added, "'No wonder he would not let you marry his daughter.' "'No wonder,' said the young man bitterly, "'touch pitch and defile yourself. But it was not he who stopped the marriage, it was myself.  See what I am, a mass of nerves. Think of the terrible history of my parents. Then imagine me asking any woman to share my misery. Well, now that you know all, what do you say?' Heron looked rather helplessly at him. "'What can I say?' he remarked, hesitatingly. It seems that your mother murdered your father under great provocation and is now in prison. Well, I think it would be best for you to put the matter out of your head and go abroad. It is not the slightest use you seeing her.' "'I have already done so,' Neal said quietly. "'Jeffrey started from his seat. You visited her in prison,' he asked. "'Yes, I learnt where she was from Mr. Cass and I went to see her at once. For I loved my mother as much as I hated my father. Poor mother! Her hair is white now and her face aligned. But she was mad with joy at first on seeing me and then very angry. Why was she angry? Ah, that is the strangest part of the whole affair. I am now going to tell you something that no one else knows, not even Mr. Cass.' Fire ahead. "'When I went to the prison,' Neal continued, "'I did not believe that my mother was guilty. Cass had told me she was, but I did not agree with him. Only from her own lips would I learn the truth and to the prison I went in order to learn it. I saw the governor and asked to see Mrs. Jenner but did not give my real name. I merely said that I was a distant relative of hers and wanted an interview. Well, I saw her, alone.' "'Were you allowed to do that?' I thought. "'That a woman-mortar would be present?' "'Well, one was, but she stayed outside the door where she could hear little, if anything.  Yes, she knew me, for I am the very image of what she was in youth. I have her fair hair and blue eyes, but not her good looks. She knew me, but she would only half admit it. Why was that?' "'Well, for one reason, because the water was outside and she did not wish our relationship known. Another was that she feared to give way altogether if she once said that I was her son. So all the time she addressed me as Mr. Webster and she talked of her son to me. "'She must be a woman of wonderful self-command,' said Geoffrey, now thoroughly interested. "'A woman in a thousand, as you will admit, before I have done. Ah, what a mother!  She did not want her son ever to know of her existence or of her history, nor did she ever wish to see him.  A painful position for you. Heaven knows how painful.' He was sitting up now and speaking rapidly. I fell into her humor, for her eyes warned me to do that. Besides, she stood aloof and refused to respond to my feelings. I accepted the situation and told her that her son was a violinist and famous. I am afraid I talked a great deal too much about myself and in a boastful vein, too. But you will understand that, Heron. I wanted to give her all the joy I could. I wanted to prove to her that her sacrifice had not been in vain. Sacrifice? What on earth do you mean by that? Ah, now comes the most painful part of the story. I asked her if she were truly guilty, but she refused to answer. And I knew in my heart that she was innocent. I saw a look in her eyes, which asked how I, her own son, could dare to doubt her innocence. But not a word did she say. And you, what did you say? I told her, still in the character of a relative, that I did not believe she killed Jenner, for by that name I spoke of him. And I declared that I intended to devote my life to proving her innocence and that I was about to reopen the case. What happened then? Asked Jeffrey, seeing from the growing agitation of the young man that he was coming to the crisis of his painful tale. She became angry and was violently moved. After glancing at the door, she abandoned the attitude she had taken up of treating me as a stranger and forbade me to reopen the case. She commanded me to leave things as they were. I refused, I swore that I would set her free. In a low voice, she implored me to let the matter rest. Again I refused and in spite of all that she could say, I held to my purpose. By this time, as you will understand, we had abandoned our masks. At last she clapped her hands and said that there was no help for it. No help for what? I am about to tell you. She caught me by the hand and bent forward to speak in a whisper and these are her very words. Do nothing, I suffer for your sake. Great heavens, do you mean to say that she hinted that it was you who killed him? She did more than hint, she said that I did. She told me that on that night she had gone away to get some money for my father, that while she was in another part of the house, she heard a cry and came back to the room to find me there standing beside the dead body of my father, the knife still in my hand. She was certain that I had done it for earlier in the evening I had rushed at him with the same knife.  She was taken and accused of the crime. For my sake she held her tongue and suffered. No one knows this, not even Mr. Cass, to whom she gave me that I might be brought up by a good man. All this she told me in a low hurried voice. Then she bad me leave matters as they were or her curse would be upon me. I promised to do nothing, she made me promise. Then I loved her. Since then, oh, what a life has been mine. And he flung himself on the sofa to bury his face in the cushions. Heron pitied him sincerely. Are you sure that this is true? He asked. For it seems to me that if you really had been guilty of killing your father, you would have remembered something about it. No, I do not think so. I am subject to trances and on that night agitated as I was by the sight of my father I fell into one. I must have done the thing as in a dream, then passed at once into the fever which robbed me of my memory until it was revived by the dream. I can remember my childhood now but I certainly remember nothing about the murder. My last memory is that of rushing at my father with a knife with which I afterwards killed him. It must be true. Yes, I am a criminal. Nonsense, a boy of ten and mad for the time being. You are not a criminal. No one could say so. If your mother had been wise, she would have told the truth so as to save herself. She preferred to save me. And if she had explained all this, who would have believed her? No one. She would simply have been accused of trying to prove me guilty in order to hide her own sin. But now that you know all, I want to have your advice. How am I to act? Leave things as they are, Jeffrey said promptly. But my mother is innocent. I know if what she says is true. I believe it, Neil cried. I really believe it. Ah, but will anyone else? To me I confess it seems a trifle far fetched. Even if you came forward and accused yourself, the whole story rests on her evidence and you will not be believed. No, Webster, leave the matter as it stands and stick to the name you are known by. Your mother wishes it, and since she has done so much for you, it is only right you should obey her. I don't know what to do, Neil clasped his hands. Shall I remain silent? Take my advice and remain silent, Heron replied, and he meant what he said. And remember, he added, that I am always your friend. End of chapters 9 and 10 Chapters 11 and 12 of The Turnpike House by Fergus Hume This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 11 Ruth's Diplomacy Whatever might have been Neil Webster's intentions as to saving his mother by proving himself guilty, they were frustrated by a severe illness. His body could no longer bear the strain of constant worry and mental torture, and he was seized with an attack of brain fever. Then it was that Heron proved himself indeed a friend. He attended to the sick man and procured for him the very best advice. No brother could have done more for the poor fellow than did Geoffrey. Putting entirely aside his desire to be near Ruth and to prosecute his courtship, he devoted himself to restoring Neil to help. Furthermore, at his friend's special request in the early stages of his illness, Geoffrey took all measures to prevent Mr. Cass' hearing of the precarious state in which he lay. For Neil considered that the merchant had done quite enough for him and did not wish to give him any more trouble. So Geoffrey informed Mr. Cass that the young violinist had gone abroad for arrest by the advice of his doctor. Then he had removed him to Bognor and placed under the charge of Mrs. Gent, impressing upon her the necessity for secrecy. Thus it came about that for nearly two months he lay ill in bed at Bognor without any suspicion being aroused in Mr. Cass' mind. To Ruth young Heron wrote and explained that Neil had given her up, but that he refused to say why he had done so. He added that he himself was going to Paris for a month or so, but that if she wanted him back he would return at the end of that time. Having thus sacrificed himself on the shrine of friendship, he went down to watch Neil through his dangerous illness. For he was determined that he should not die if human means could save him. So with Mrs. Gent he nursed his friend with the greatest tenderness. Another friendly act he performed. He visited Mrs. Jenner and learned from her all the particulars of the case. At first she sternly refused to tell him anything, but when he informed her that her son was ill and that his only chance of recovery, this was a little embroidery of his own, lay in the hope of her innocence being established, she gave way. He had already succeeded in impressing upon her the fact that Neil could not have killed his father, not withstanding all appearances to the contrary. From what you say, Mrs. Jenner, he remarked, your husband was a strong man. Neil, I must still call him Neil, was a puny child. It is impossible that he could have struck such a blow. At best his strength could not have been equal to it and Jenner could have brushed him aside as easily as he could have fly. That is true, said the woman thoughtfully. I found him with a knife in his hand standing beside the body. He might have entered the room and picked up the knife. But if this is so, and I begin to see things from your point of view, who killed my husband? I can swear that I did not and if my child is innocent, who is guilty? That is just what we must find out, both to release you from an unjust imprisonment and to set his mind at rest. Now tell me the whole story and especially the events of that night. Then I may be in a position to account for the crime. Cheered somewhat by the view he took, Mrs. Jenner told him all she knew with full details. Two points struck Mr. Heron. One, that the window had been open and that Mrs. Jenner had left her husband standing near it. The other, that he had had in his possession a red pocketbook which had afterwards disappeared. Beyond this, he gathered that her account of the boasts her husband had made on that night that he had had somebody in his power, somebody from whom he intended to extort money. And I quite believe that is true, finished the unhappy woman bitterly. He had the instincts of a blackmailer. Well, said Jeffrey, preparing to take his departure. I think the motive for the crime will be found in that pocketbook. Whoever took it murdered your husband. The window was open, the book as you say on the table and near the window your husband was standing. Also, he added with emphasis, you say the knife was lying beside the pocketbook. Now, if your son had used it, he would have had to pass his father to get it and so would have put him on his guard, even if he had not been prevented from taking it. No, Mrs. Jenner, your son is innocent as innocent as yourself. The assassin seized that knife through the open window and struck the blow in order to get possession of that pocketbook, which contained of that I am sure, some document which would have been used as a lever to extort money. That is my theory and I will make it my business to prove that it is the right one. Meanwhile, I must nurse Neal. You are a good man, said Mrs. Jenner, showing emotion for the first time and what you say seems feasible enough. Go and do the best you can. Heaven will reward you. But my son, my darling boy, he may die. Not if I can help it. I'll pull him round somehow. Keep up your spirits. You've had a long night, but I believe the dawn is at hand. Heaven bless you, she said. Then Jeffrey took his leave to return to the bedside of Neal Webster. While all this was taking place, Ruth had not been idle. She had been annoyed by Heron's letter and much alarmed at his determination to stay away. She was beginning to find out that her feeling for him was stronger than anything the young violinist had inspired in her. But a streak of obstinacy inherited from her Spanish grandmother kept her in a manner true to the man for whom she cared least. Besides this, she was possessed of more than her share of feminine curiosity and never faltered in her determination to learn the real cause of Webster's mysterious departure. She was well aware that her love for him was not genuine, that it had been founded as Jenny had very truly told her on admiration of the artist, not on love for the man, and she was equally certain that she would never marry him. But all the same she was resolved to learn his secret, and for many a weary week she plotted for the achievement of her ends. As far as she knew, both Neal and Jeffrey were abroad so she had a fair field. After much thought, she concluded that her best plan was to make the attempt through Mrs. Gent, who had been her nurse and who had always retained an affection almost motherly for her. And the old woman was a trustful soul, easy enough to manage by the exercise of a little diplomacy. Ruth's plan was to act as she had done with her father, to assume that she knew more than she would admit. In this way, taking into account the simplicity of Mrs. Gent, it was likely that the old woman would let something slip which would put her on the track. And Ruth considered that if she had succeeded with a man like her father, she would certainly have no difficulty with a person of Mrs. Gent's caliber. So she made up her mind as to her best course of action. To see Mrs. Gent without arousing suspicion, it was necessary that she should go down to Bognor without her father's knowledge. He would think it odd that she should at this juncture wish to see anyone who was so closely connected with her former lover. To avert suspicion, the girl wrote to an old school fellow at Brighton asking her for an invitation.  Do ask me down for a week or so. Mrs. Prosser fell into the trap. It seemed natural enough to her that Ruth should want a little gaiety and she was glad to have a pretty girl in her house. The presence of beauty would attract a good many men and, being not averse to an occasional flirtation herself, Mrs. Prosser judged that she should share in the pleasure to be derived from the visit. So the desired invitation was promptly dispatched and Mr. Cass, quite unsuspicious, permitted his daughter's acceptance of it.  To which remark he received no answer. For quite a week Ruth enjoyed herself thoroughly. Mrs. Prosser's house was a bright one. She entertained a great deal, more especially now that she had such a charming friend to amuse and to amuse her. That young lady made amends for Neal's desertion of her and for Jeffrey's absence by flirting to her heart's content and consigning many use to various stages of despair at what they were pleased to call her fickleness. But she never lost sight of her main object which was to drop down on Mrs. Gent without giving that old lady warning of her coming. She would take her entirely by surprise. Accordingly, on the plea that she was going to see her old nurse, Ruth took the train to Bognor and Mrs. Gent welcomed her visitor with open arms. Nor indeed, not having been warned, did she conceal the fact that Mr. Webster was ill in the house and that Jeffrey was nursing him. "'My dear, how pleased I am to see you,' she cried, settling her spectacles on her nose and quite the young lady, too. "'Oh, good of you, my lovey, not to forget your old nurse.' "'As if I ever could,' Ruth said graciously, "'and tell me what you are doing with yourself.' "'Just living, my dear, just living. "'What, with a border or two, and the money your dear papa allows me, I rub along?' "'Have you any borders now?' asked the girl, more for the sake of saying something than because she felt any interest in the subject. "'Well, not what you would call borders, perhaps,' said the old lady, rubbing one withered hand over the other. "'At least one of them isn't. "'He is my dear boy, Neil.' "'Neil?' with unbounded astonishment. "'Neil Webster, why, he is abroad.' "'No such thing. "'He is here, my lovey, and has been for two months.' "'Abroad?' "'Why, the poor darling has been a death's door. "'I, and he would have entered it, too, if Mr. Heron had not.' "'Heron? Jeffrey Heron?' "'Yes, dear, that is him. "'Heaven, bless him. "'Do you?' "'Jeffrey Heron here,' interrupted the girl, rather to herself than to the old woman. "'Why, he wrote to tell me that he was on the continent. "'What does all this mean, I wonder?' "'It's not hard to tell the meaning,' said Mrs. Gent. "'My boy, Neil, fell ill, had brain-fever, poor lad, and Mr. Heron brought him here from London that I might nurse him, and he stayed with me. "'He is almost as fond of my dear boy as I am.' "'Is he?' said Ruth, blankly, considering that the two men were, or had been, rivals for her hand, she could not quite take all this in.' "'Of course he is,' said the old woman, with great energy. "'A better gentleman I never wished to see.' "'What is Mr. Webster here?' "'In the next room, in the most beautiful sleep. "'I dare say you would like to see him, my dear, for he has often talked of you. But I dare not to wake him, it would be dangerous. Mr. Heron has gone to Worthing.  Has he also spoken of me?' "'Often and often, my dear. Why, he loves you. He has told me so a dozen times.' The girl stuck her pretty chin in the air and looked supercilious. "'Well, he is nothing to me,' she said crossly. "'I don't like deceitful people.' "'Oh, now don't defend him,' she added, seeing that Mrs. Jent was about to deliver herself of an indignant speech. I know more than you do. As to Mr. Webster, well, he was good enough to say that he cared for me too.' "'I know.' He has often spoken of you to me, but he has got over his fancy.' "'Oh, indeed,' cried Ruth, more angry than ever. He caused his love for me a fancy, does he? Just like a man!' Then she suddenly recollected her errand and resolved to make the best use of her time before Jeffrey could come back and interfere. "'Poor Mr. Webster! No doubt he is grieving for his parents.' The old lady started. "'What do you know of them?' she asked sternly. "'All that he could tell me,' was the reply. He was engaged to me and he told me all about himself and his people.' "'How foolish of him,' Mrs. Jent said under her breath. But I hope you don't think any less of him, my dear. After all, he is not responsible for the wickedness of his father and mother.' Ruth nearly jumped out of her seat.  And moreover he was suffering for what they had done in not being allowed to marry her. That was the way she put it. But she said nothing and Mrs. Jent went on talking in the firm belief that her listener knew all the facts of the case. Of course it was a long time before he knew anything about his parents. Neither Mr. Cass nor I would tell him you know. But last Christmas, when he was staying with you, my dear, you found it all out. It was at Christmas that he told me about them, put in Ruth. But she did not add that it was of the American parents he had spoken. Indeed, she could not make out whether Mrs. Jent was alluding to them or to some other persons of whom she knew nothing. She felt confused. "'Ah, well,' went on the old lady with her sigh. I suppose the discovery was too much for him and he had to tell someone. And why not you?' But my dear, she laid a withered hand on the girl's arm. If he had loved you he would never have told you about that nasty turnpike house murder. Did he tell you his name was Jenner, my dear?' "'No,' said the girl faintly. She knew the truth now. Only that his parents—oh, I can't speak of it.' "'It is terrible,' the old lady shook her head, to think of his mother having murdered her husband and being in jail. "'He never told me that,' shrieked Ruth, for she could play her part no longer. "'Oh, great heavens!  No wonder my father would not let the marriage take place.' "'The marriage?' stammered Mrs. Jent, rising with an expression of alarm on her face. "'Yes, I was engaged to him and suddenly he gave me up. My father said he would never allow me to marry him. I could not make out the reason. Now I know it, and oh, how horrible it is!' "'Then you did not know the truth?' "'No, no,' Neil told me about his American parents. "'That was the story we made up to keep him quiet, but in the old woman. "'Yes, Mr. Cass, and I thought it best he should not know. He found out the truth for himself, and now I have told it to you.' "'I am glad you have,' said Ruth, taking her hand. "'Dear nurse, I have behaved so badly. I wanted to find out why Neil had given me up, and his father would not tell me I came to you. But I have been punished for my curiosity. Still, I'm glad. I'm glad. I must give him up now.' "'Indeed, Miss,' said Mrs. Jent, bristling with indignation, "'I think you ought to stand by the poor boy more than ever. "'Oh, Miss, how could you play me such a trick? I do hope you'll keep all this to yourself.' "'Of course I will. All the effect it will have upon me is that I shall think no more of Neil.' "'Ah, Mrs. Jent, shook her head. I thought better of you.' "'Good gracious, how can you expect me to marry a man whose mother is in jail?' "'That is not his fault. But take your own way, Miss. I think you have behaved badly in tricking me into speaking secrets. I shall tell your father at once.' "'I shall tell him myself. You shan't be blamed, nurse. I am a wicked girl to have done what I have done. There, don't cry. I'm not worth it. I'll go away and not bother you.' And before Mrs. Jent could say another word, Ruth was out of the house and walking swiftly along the parade. Then the unexpected happened, for the first person she met was Jeffrey Heron. CHAPTER XII THE TOY HORSE Jeffrey Heron would as soon have expected to see the sea-serpent offshore as to meet Ruth Gass walking along the Bognor parade. However, there she was, and he had to meet her to explain himself as best he could and to put himself right in her eyes. "'Miss Gass,' he stammered, taking off his hat and exhibiting a very red face and confusion of manner usually absent from his demeanor, "'I am astonished to meet you here.' "'I daresay,' replied the girl, her nose in the air. "'There can be no doubt about that after all the stones you told me, but I am not astonished. I have been to see Mrs. Jent.' "'What? Have you seen Webster?' "'I said Mrs. Jent.' "'No, Mr. Webster does not know that I am here.' "'He was asleep and Mrs. Jent refused to disturb him even for me. "'Now what have you to say for yourself?' "'It is a long story,' he said uneasily. "'In that case we had better sit down. But I must go back to the cottage. "'In that case I'll go with you. "'We don't part, Mr. Heron, until I have an explanation of all this. "'Part of it I understand already.' "'What do you understand?' he asked, startled. "'For one thing I know why Neil left me.' "'Impossible.' "'Nothing is impossible to a woman who has set her heart on finding out what she wants to know.' "'Neil refused to tell me. Papa refused.  "'Well, I have found out from Mrs. Jent.' "'She never told you,' cried Heron agitated. "'Not of her own free will. I got it out of her. But I know now what is the matter. "'Ah, I see you don't believe me. "'You are still incredulous.' "'Just listen then.' "'Neil's real name is Jenner. "'His mother killed his father and is now in jail. "'Am I right?' "'Perfectly.' "'He was relieved to find that she did not know the worst. "'I congratulate you on your diplomacy. "'I thought you were going to use a nastier word. "'I'm sure you were tempted to.' "'No, believe me. "'How can I believe you when you behave as you have done? "'Why are you here instead of in Paris?' "'Because when I saw Webster I found he was very ill. "'Someone had to look after him, "'and I seemed to be the right person just then. "'You would not have had me leave the poor fellow to die?' "'No,' Ruth held out her hand, which he seized eagerly. "'On the whole I think you are a very good man, Mr. Heron. "'But why did you tell me that you were in Paris "'and that Neil also was abroad?' "'I did so at his request. "'He considered that he had given your father enough trouble "'and, knowing that in all probability "'he would have a long illness, "'he asked me to conceal his whereabouts "'so that Mr. Cash should not come down.' "'Oh, I understand. "'But about yourself. "'Why did you hide?' "'In the first place I wanted to look after him. "'In the second I did not wish to see you.' "'Oh, thank you!' cried Ruth, highly indignant. "'Don't misunderstand me,' he said. "'Anxious Neil told me his story, "'the story you have got out of Mrs. Gent, "'and I did not feel justified "'in allowing anything so terrible to reach your ears. "'I knew that I was as wax in your hands "'and that you would probably force me to tell. "'So I judged discretion to be the better part of Valor "'and kept away. "'I see, but I don't think your discretion "'will serve you in the long run.  "'Now, Mr. Heron, sit down "'and tell me everything from the beginning. "'Oh, but I won't have any buts about it,' "'said Ruth, peremptorily. "'I know the worst, but I know it only in fragments. "'I want to know the whole.' "'Why?' asked Heron, taking his seat beside her. "'Can't you guess?  "'Wait to help poor Neil, of course.' "'Ah, you are still in love with him,' said Heron, "'with a jealous pang. "'No, I am not. "'I found out long since that I loved someone else better. "'Oh, I am not going to tell you his name. "'I have my secrets as well as you. "'But I still like and admire Neil "'in spite of his misfortunes and I want to help him. "'You are doing that already and I admire you for it. "'Well, we will work together.' "'I should like nothing better, but,' "'Jeffery hesitated, "'can I trust you?' "'The secret isn't mine, you know.' "'No, it is mine,' said Miss Cass, very coolly. "'I share it with you and Mrs. Gent. "'Whether I know all or not, I am not prepared to say, "'but you are going to tell me all. "'Now then,' he hesitated. "'Very good,' he said at length. "'I will tell you all I know "'and we will work together to get this poor woman "'restored to freedom.' "'What? Is she innocent?' "'I am certain of that. "'Whosoever murdered, Jenner, it was not his wife. "'But she was found guilty.' "'She is not the first innocent person "'who has been found guilty. "'Wait till you have heard the whole story. "'Then you shall judge.' "'I certainly should not think of judging beforehand,' "'she said disdainfully. "'You must not think me silly. "'Now go on from the beginning.' Seeded on the iron bench with his gaze fixed seaward, Harren employed the best part of an hour in telling the story. Ruth, for the most part, listened quietly, only now and again putting a question so much to the point as to amaze her companion. And as he neared the end, and these questions and comments became more frequent, Jeffrey congratulated himself on having taken her into his confidence. "'Poor Neil,' she sighed at last, "'how he must have suffered.' "'And how he does suffer,' Harren said gloomily. "'He loves his mother beyond any created being, "'and he will never be at peace until he sees her rescued "'from the fate to which he has been so unjustly condemned.' "'That shall be our task,' responded Ruth with alacrity. "'Neil is too weak a man to take this burden upon him. "'Now I know why I could never love him altogether, "'why I was never satisfied.' "'What do you mean?' asked Harren anxiously. "'Well, it is this way,' said Miss Cass, "'drying figures on the gravel with the tip of her umbrella. "'I fell in love with him when I heard him play. "'He looked so handsome and so noble, so inspired. "'But when we were together "'something always seemed to be wanting. "'I know now what it was, strength, the strength of a man. "'I believe, Jeffrey,' she went on "'without noticing that she was using his Christian name, "'that what a woman wants in a husband is a master. "'I wonder if I shall ever get what I want. "'I don't know. "'Are there such men?' "'She looked sideways at Harren, not in a coquettish way, "'but rather wistfully. "'Jeffrey felt that embarrassment, "'which every honest man feels "'at the thought of having an egotistical speech "'forced upon him. "'He loved this girl, and he was sure that she loved him. "'Well, Jeffrey,' she said, "'after waiting in vain for a reply, "'I will be your wife. "'You will, my dearest.' "'Hush, don't take my hands. "'Don't speak so loud. "'We are in a public place, remember, "'and many eyes are on us.  "'But I could never be your master, dearest,' he said, filled with delight, "'for who would rule a dove?' "'Ah, but that is where you are mistaken. "'I am not a dove by any manner of means. "'I am a very self-willed girl. "'My presence here proves that. "'I know you won't be a tyrant "'and thwart me in little things, "'but when I am your wife, "'I know that you, not I, will have the last word, "'and that is what I wish it to be. "'Well, perhaps there is some truth in what you say,' he admitted, "'but you shall have your own way, dear. "'Always.' "'Yes, always, that is, "'when it fits in with your own ideas, "'but I am quite willing to take you on those terms. "'You are strong, as Neil, poor fellow, is weak, "'and that reminds me,' she added hastily, "'that we must not waste time in talking about ourselves. "'I must get back to Brighton.' "'Are you staying there? "'May I?' "'Yes, I am staying with an old school fellow. "'She gave him her address, "'and you may come over when you can, "'but don't neglect poor Neil for me. "'We must settle this business first. "'Let us talk of it.' "'I would rather talk of you,' he said ruefully. "'However, duty before pleasure. "'What were you going to say?' "'This. "'I believe that Mrs. Jenner is not guilty. "'If she were, she would have asserted her innocence.  "'Oh, she is innocent enough. "'Let us accept that as a foregone conclusion,' "'said Jeffrey hastily. "'He would not reveal the reason why Mrs. Jenner "'had not spoken lest Neil's secret should come to light, "'so he let Ruth make what she liked "'out of the woman's silence. "'Very good. "'We have decided that she is innocent. "'Now we must find out who is guilty. "'I agree with you, Jeffrey, "'that the murder was committed by some stranger. "'Jenner was near the window, "'and the crime was committed "'in order to get possession of that red pocketbook "'which had the materials for blackmailing in it. "'Now what we have to learn "'is what manner of life he led in the past, "'find out with whom he associated "'and who there was he would have been likely to blackmail. "'Then we shall know who killed him. "'Now how are we to obtain all that information? "'From Mrs. Jenner, I will see her again.  "'There is another person who can tell,' "'Ruth said thoughtfully. "'My father. "'Oh, I know. "'I found out, how it doesn't matter, "'that Jenner was a cleric in Papa's office, "'that Mrs. Jenner was my sister Amy's governess. "'I'll ask her. "'She may know something about Mrs. Jenner "'and her husband lightly to throw light on all this. "'And I must go to the turnpike house, "'for there I may find some evidence. "'I don't know what, but something,' Ruth sighed. "'I will go to the turnpike house "'if only out of curiosity. "'Now this is what we have to do. "'You must see Mrs. Jenner and find out all you can, "'setting it down in writing. "'I will question Papa and Amy "'and write down all they tell me. "'And I will go to the turnpike house, "'then we will meet and compare notes. "'Is it agreed?' "'She rose to her feet. "'Yes, it is agreed, but do not go yet. "'I must or I shall not catch my train "'and, besides, I am hungry and thirsty. "'I want to go back to Mrs. Jensen, get a cup of tea. "'Come.' "'Will you see Neil?' "'He asked as they walked towards the cottage. "'She shook her head. "'I think not. "'The sight of me will only agitate him. "'You need not say anything about my having been "'until he is quite better. "'It is odd that you should have spoken of your sister,' "'Haron said abruptly, "'for Neil has been worrying about her, "'or at least about her eldest boy, George.' "'Ah, George is a great friend of his and adores him. "'But what is he worrying about George for?' "'Well, he got it into his head some little time ago "'that he was going to die, "'and he wanted to leave George some gift or other.' "'Why didn't he do that in his will?' "'Well, I expect because it was hardly worse "'setting down in a legal document, "'for the gift is only a toy horse, "'a brown animal of but little beauty. "'Neil has had it all his life "'and has an extraordinary affection for it. "'Nothing would do but that I should take it to George. "'So now, as you will no doubt be going up "'to your sisters in town, "'you might save me the journey by taking it for me. "'Will you, dear? "'It is wrapped up and all ready to go.' Ruth laughed. "'Oh, I will take it with pleasure, "'and I'm quite sure George will be delighted. "'He is five now and just the age for such a toy. "'By the way, I suppose you know that Amy "'has engaged Jenny Braun to teach him.' "'Has she really?' "'And what may she be going to teach him? "'How to write poetry?' "'Jeffrey, I really can't have you making fun of Jenny, "'for she is the dearest girl in all the world. "'Now I know what you are going to say "'and you may just save yourself the trouble. "'It was I who asked Amy to engage her. "'Her family are all so poor "'and she makes next to nothing out of her poetry "'besides, her sister is old enough to look after the house. "'Amy is paying her very well, too. "'I will say that for Amy, she is not shabby over money.' Jeffrey laughed and held open the gate. "'Ruth was received by her old nurse with some stiffness, "'for Mrs. Gent had not yet forgiven the trick "'which had been played upon her. "'But the girl apologized so charmingly "'that the heart of the old dame was softened, "'and when she heard from Mr. Heron "'that Miss Cass was going to help him prove "'Mrs. Jenner's innocence, "'and so restore Neal's peace of mind, "'she became quite herself again. "'Though I don't see, sir, how you are going "'to help Mrs. Jenner,' she said. "'She killed him sure enough. "'She killed him?' "'No, she didn't,' Ruth said decidedly. "'I am certain she is innocent.' "'If she was, why didn't she say so?' "'Mrs. Gent asked. "'That Mr. Heron is going to find out from her.' "'I shall ask her, of course,' Heron said in some confusion. "'Ruth's eyes were on him like a flash, "'and Ruth's eyes saw more than they were intended to see. "'You know why she did not speak, Jeffrey?' "'Yes, I do,' he confessed. "'But I cannot tell you why. "'Don't ask me.' "'Has it to do with Neal?' "'Don't ask me,' he repeated with a frown. "'I declined to tell you.' "'Meanwhile Mrs. Gent had prepared the table, "'observing between Wiles that Neal still slept. "'Jeffrey had already been to see him, "'having seized the opportunity, "'while Ruth and her old nurse were making up their tiff, "'and he reported that the invalid looked much better "'for the rest. "'He had brought with him a paper parcel. "'Here is the horse, Ruth,' he said. "'The horse,' cried Mrs. Gent, "'who was pouring out the tea. "'Is that my dear boy's horse, "'the one he wants to give to little Master Chisel?' "'Yes, I should have sent it long ago, "'but now Miss Ruth will take it.' "'Don't you miss, don't you?' said the old woman. "'It will bring no good luck to the child. "'That was the toy with which my dear boy was playing "'when his father was murdered. "'Ugh!' exclaimed the girl, "'dropping the parcel with horror. "'Ah, you may well say that. "'And Mrs. Gent nodded her head. "'I don't know what possesses Mr. Neal "'to give it to Master George. "'It is true my dear boy loves it, "'but think of the history. "'He has forgotten it.' "'He carried that toy with him "'when his poor mother ran away into the night. "'All through his illness he held to it, "'and when we took it away, "'he cried so much that we had to give it back. "'The nasty thing,' finished Mrs. Gent with energy, "'throw it into the fire.' "'No, no,' cried Jeffery, picking it up. "'Neal would never forgive us if we did that. "'I'll keep it here and not give it to George at all. "'Give it to me,' and Ruth took the parcel from him. "'I won't let George have it, "'but I'll take it down with me to Hollyoaks. "'What for?' asked Jeffery uneasily. "'It has disagreeable associations.' "'For that very reason,' said Ruth, "'there is a clairvoyant near our place, "'a lady I know very well. "'If you put a thing into her hands, "'she can tell you all about it.' "'Nonsense,' cried Jeffery, laughing, "'while Mrs. Gent held up her hands "'and muttered something about the witch of Endor.' "'It is not nonsense,' Ruth said energetically. "'Mrs. Garvey tells the most wonderful things. "'At all events I'll try her with this. "'Who knows but she may see in her vision, "'which this will bring to her?' "'I said, Ruth, in parenthesis, "'the face of the murderer looking through the window.' "'I don't believe a word of it,' laughed Jeffery, "'with the skepticism of a man of the world.  "'However, if you like, you can try, "'but don't ask me to be present at your hanky-panky. "'I won't,' laughed Ruth, "'but I'll make a convert of you "'by getting Mrs. Garvey to say who killed Neil's father.' "'Hush,' murmured Mrs. Gent, "'glancing nervously at the innerdor. "'He will hear. "'Make no mistake, Miss. "'Mrs. Jenner did it. "'I am certain she did not. "'However, I trust Mrs. Garvey to put us on the right track. "'I take the horse with me. "'And take it she did, "'with results quite unexpected to herself, "'to Heron and to Mrs. Gent.' "'Then she had a cup of tea "'and was escorted by Jeffery to the station. "'Needless to say, she teased him the whole way.'" End of chapters 11 and 12.