Chapter 12

THE TOY HORSE.

Geoffrey Heron would as soon have expected to see the sea-serpent off shore as to meet Ruth Cass 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 Cass!" he stammered, taking off his hat and exhibiting a very red face and confusion of manner usually absent from his demeanour. "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 now 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, you refused in the meanest manner. 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 gaol. 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 am 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. Cass 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. Jent--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 valour, and kept away."

"I see. But I don't think your discretion will serve you in the long run. Here is a seat, and there are few people about. 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? Oh, you are stupid. Why, 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," Geoffrey 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. Jent. 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 very beginning."

Seated on the iron bench with his gaze fixed seaward, Heron 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, Geoffrey 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," Heron 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 she 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 Heron, anxiously.

"Well, it is this way," said Miss Cass, drawing 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, Geoffrey," 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 Heron, not in a coquettish way, but rather wistfully.

Geoffrey 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, Geoffrey," 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. Yes, I will marry you, for you are--a man!"

"But I can 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 as 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 schoolfellow." 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. The mere fact that she held her tongue is so wonderful for a woman that I am sure she did not kill her husband."

"Oh, she is innocent enough; let us accept that as a foregone conclusion," said Geoffrey, hastily. He would not reveal the real 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, Geoffrey, 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 pocket-book 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. She told me all about the murder, but nothing relating to her past life."

"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 clerk 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 likely 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 that 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. Jent's and 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," Heron 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 another."

"Why didn't he do that in his will?"

"Well, I expect because it was hardly worth 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 sister's 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 Jennie Brawn to teach him?"

"Has she really? And what may she be going to teach him--how to write poetry?"

"Geoffrey, I really can't have you making fun of Jennie, 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."

Geoffrey laughed and held open the gate. Ruth was received by her old nurse with some stiffness, for Mrs. Jent had not yet forgiven the trick which had been played upon her. But the girl apologised 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 Neil'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. Jent 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, Geoffrey?"

"Yes, I do," he confessed, "but I cannot tell you why. Don't ask me."

"Has it to do with Neil?"

"Don't ask me," he repeated, with a frown. "I decline to tell you."

Meanwhile Mrs. Jent had prepared the table, observing betweenwhiles that Neil still slept. Geoffrey 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. Jent, 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. Jent nodded her head. "I don't know what possesses Mr. Neil 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. Jent with energy. "Throw it into the fire."

"No, no," cried Geoffrey, picking it up. "Neil 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 Geoffrey, 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 Geoffrey, laughing, while Mrs. Jent 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"--said Ruth in parenthesis--"the face of the murderer looking through the window."

"I don't believe a word of it," laughed Geoffrey, with the scepticism of a man of the world. "It is ridiculous. 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 convert of you by getting Mrs. Garvey to say who killed Neil's father."

"Hush!" murmured Mrs. Jent, glancing nervously at the inner door. "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 down with me." And take it she did, with results quite unexpected to herself, to Heron, and to Mrs. Jent.

Then she had a cup of tea and was escorted by Geoffrey to the station. Needless to say she teased him the whole way.