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 health.

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 a rest by the advice of his doctor. Then he had him removed to Bognor and placed under the charge of Mrs. Jent, 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's 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 quite determined that he should not die if human means could save him. So, with Mrs. Jent, 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, notwithstanding 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 a 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 go-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 pocket-book 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 Geoffrey, preparing to take his departure. I think the motive for the crime will be found in that pocket-book. 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 pocket-book. 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 pocket-book, 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 Neil."

"You are a good man," said Mrs. Jenner shewing 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 have had a long night, but I believe the dawn is at hand."

"Heaven bless you!" she said. Then Geoffrey took his leave, to return to the bedside of Neil 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 Jennie had very truly told her--on admiration for 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 Neil and Geoffrey were abroad, so she had a fair field.

After much thought she concluded that her best plan was to make the attempt through Mrs. Jent, 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. Jent, 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. Jent's calibre. So she made up her mind as to her best course of action.

To see Mrs. Jent 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 one who was so closely connected with her former lover. To avert suspicion, the girl wrote to an old schoolfellow at Brighton asking her for an invitation. "I am tired of a dull country life," wrote Miss Cass, "and I should be so glad of a little amusement. 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 would share in the pleasure to be derived from the visit. So the desired invitation was promptly despatched, and Mr. Cass, quite unsuspicious, permitted his daughter's acceptance of it.

"Perhaps it will put this nonsense about Webster out of your head," he said as he bade her good-bye. 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 Neil's desertion of her, and for Geoffrey's absence, by flirting to her heart's content, and consigning many youths 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. Jent 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. Jent 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 Geoffrey 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! How 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 boarder or two and the money your dear papa allows me I rub along."

"Have you any boarders 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 boarders, 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 at death's door! Aye, and he would have entered it, too, if Mr. Heron had not----"

"Heron? Geoffrey Heron?"

"Yes, dear, that is him, Heaven bless him. Do you----"

"Geoffrey 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. Jent. "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 wish to see."

"And is Mr. Webster here?"

"In the next room, in the most beautiful sleep. I daresay you would like to see him, my dear, for he has often talked of you. But I daren't wake him, it would be dangerous. Mr. Heron has gone to Worthing. Will you wait till he comes back?"

"I might," replied Ruth, thinking that she would like to prove to Heron that she was no fool. "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 calls 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 Geoffrey 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 the 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. So Neil's father and mother had been what this old woman called "wicked people." 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, he 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 a 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 gaol."

"He never told me that!" shrieked Ruth, for she could play her part no longer. "Oh, great Heavens, what a horrible thing! 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," put 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 as 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 I better of you."

"Good gracious! How can you expect me to marry a man whose mother is in gaol?"

"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 Geoffrey Heron!