Chapter 23

STILL IN DOUBT.

Marshall, seeing that the two men were silent, began to recover his self-command. "I see you don't believe me. Perhaps there is no reason why you should. But I swear I do not know who killed Jenner. If I had known I should have got that bill out of him."

"Oh!" said Geoffrey. "And you would have condoned his sin so long as he gave you back the evidence of your own."

"I would. Every man for himself in this world. I would have told him, whosoever he was, that if he did not give me back the bill I would denounce him to the police. But I have not the least idea who the guilty person is." He wiped his face. "And all these years I have lived in misery, fearing daily and hourly that the bill would turn up. I knew Roper would not spare me if he got possession of it."

"No wonder," remarked Heron, "seeing how badly you treated his daughter Elsa."

The culprit had the grace to blush. "Elsa Roper was never a penny the worse by me," he said. "When I used to go to her father's office to procure money she chose to fall in love with me. I made capital out of that, as I do out of most things."

"Don't be so shameless, man!" interposed his brother-in-law, sharply. Marshall sickened him with his fluent villainy.

"Oh, you were always a Puritan," sneered Marshall. "However, that is neither here nor there. I let the girl believe that I cared for her in order to get her father to part with his money, but I never intended to marry her."

"And she died of a broken heart," put in Heron.

"So the old man says. As though a woman ever died of such a thing! She caught a chill, and was carried off because she was not sufficiently well nourished; that is the truth, although old Roper prefers to put it down to me. If he had fed her better she would be alive now. But he chooser to think I killed her, and would do me a serious injury it he could. I am glad the bill did not fall into his hands. Where did you get it?" he asked, turning to Geoffrey. "Or if you can tell me the name of the person who had it I can tell you who was the assassin of Jenner. Oh, it is quite true. Jenner shewed me the bill that night by the Waggoner's Pond. I would have taken it by force, but he was stronger than I; there was no chance of my getting the better of him. But I noticed that he took it out of a red pocket-book. Now, that pocket-book was never produced at the trial, so the assassin must have it."

"Then you don't think Mrs. Jenner killed him?"

"She? She wouldn't have killed a fly. No, she did not kill him. If she had, that red pocket-book would have been produced in court. I have been living in fear ever since, wondering who had it, though I always intended to make use of the murder should the assassin have tried to blackmail me. Who did you get the bill from, Heron?"

"I did not got it from anyone. Jenner evidently thought that you might come after him to steal it, so, according to his wife, he sewed it up in the body of a toy horse with which his child had been playing. Lately Neil wished to give this toy to George Chisel, so it came into Ruth's possession. The boy cut it open, and Miss Brawn found the bill. She gave it to me and I at once saw Roper about it. Besides, I read up my father's diary and found that his name had been forged."

"Did he know that I had done it?"

"Yes. Roper called on him to tell him so. If my father had not died, Mr. Marshall, you would have found yourself in prison for forgery."

"No, I should not. You forget that Jenner stole the bill. No one could have prosecuted me without producing the document. I know enough law for that. Besides, I had paid the money to Roper, and that I did only to avoid a scandal. Does Ruth know about this, or Miss Brawn, or George?"

"They know nothing," replied Mr. Cass. "Ruth does not even know of the existence of this bill. George is but a child, and took no notice of it. As for Miss Brawn, she thinks the signature is all right. She will hold her tongue. Oh, you are quite safe so far. But this murder. I feel certain that you committed it; no one else could have had so powerful a motive."

"Still, someone else might have had a motive for all that. I am sure Mrs. Jenner is innocent; but her husband had lots of enemies, and many would gladly have done it, could they have escaped the consequences. The only thing that puzzles me is the disappearance of the red pocket-bock. I understand all about the bill now; it could not have been made use of. Well, the whole affair is a mystery, but all I can say is that I did not kill the man. I knew if it came to the pinch I could always prove that."

"It has come to the pinch now," said Mr. Cass, sternly. "Prove your innocence, if you can for my part I believe you are guilty."

"More fool you!" was the retort. "On that night, if you remember, we had dinner at six--a light dinner, dished up in a hurry--your wife had to go to London; you told her you would have some supper at nine, did you not?"

"Yes, I remember something of that," said Mr. Cass, after a pause.

"Was I not in to supper?"

"Yes, you were; I remember that too."

"And supper was at nine?"

"Yes, it was ordered for nine, and I postponed it till half-past because I did not feel hungry."

"I was here when you gave the order, because you asked me whether I would prefer supper at once, or wait."

"That is true enough. Well?"

"Well, if you will look again into the evidence given at the trial of that unfortunate woman, you will find that the doctor said that Jenner had been killed at nine o'clock. Therefore, it could not have been I who struck the blow. By your own shewing I was with you at the time. Now, am I innocent or guilty?"

Mr. Cass looked at Geoffrey. "All this is true enough," he said, quietly. "I begin to believe that you did not do it after all."

"If you can be so honest as to admit that I was in this room at nine o'clock I could not have killed Jenner, who was at that very time being murdered by some unknown person four miles away. I am a forger, I admit that; but"--here he became finely scornful--"I am not a murderer. Foolish I may have been, wicked I never was."

The two listeners gazed at each other in amazement. Then Marshall went on.

"Now I know where the bill is I feel relieved," he said, and his self-pity was almost, pathetic. "I can sleep in peace, more especially when it has been destroyed." As he spoke he advanced his hand towards the table with the intention of taking the paper. Mr. Cass anticipated him, and snatched the incriminating document away.

"No, Marshall," he said, putting it in his pocket. "I keep this. You are too dangerous a man to be allowed to go your own way. I use this bill as a whip to manage you. Behave yourself, and act a decent part for the remainder of your life, and no one shall ever know of this. But try any of your tricks and you will be laid by the heels."

"Do you call this honourable?" blustered Marshall.

"I call it caution. You are quite safe with me, and I am sure our friend Heron will say nothing."

"Certainly. I shall be guided entirely by Mr. Cass."

"But Roper might get hold of it, and then I should be lost."

"Roper will not get hold of it. I keep it, Marshall. It is for your wife's sake only that I am thus lenient. So far as you are concerned nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see you suffering a just punishment. You are the most unblushing scoundrel I have ever seen!"

"You had better look out Cass," said Marshall, threateningly. "I can make you pay dearly for these insults."

"Can any person possibly insult you?" sneered Mr. Cass. "Do what you like, but remember"--he touched his breast-pocket--"I will exact payment. Now you know. As for the rest, I don't want you in my house again, but as that might provoke remark on the part of Inez, and lead to an explanation, I will permit you to call occasionally; but I hope your visits will be rare. Were I in your place I should go abroad. Now you can go."

The man was livid with rage. He was evidently inclined to make trouble. He knew that he could go pretty far, for only the direst extremity would force Mr. Cass into creating a scandal by producing the bill. But he could find nothing to say in face of the threat held over him; and, cowed by the looks of the two men, he finally sneaked out of the room. Then he left the house, but he had recovered himself sufficiently to make a gay remark to Ruth and Jennie, whom he met returning from their walk. Truly the man was bad to the core.

"Do you believe him?" asked Heron when they were alone.

"Yes, what he says is perfectly correct. I confess I am greatly relieved."

"So am I. But do you think he knows who killed Jenner?"

"He might, but that we shall never get out of him. On the other hand I am inclined to think he does not know, for believing the assassin to have had the bill, he would have made an attempt to get it from him. But what is to be done next? Mrs. Jenner is still in gaol and ill."

"Ah, that reminds me," said Geoffrey, taking a letter out of his pocket. "I had this from Neil this morning. I intended to show it to you, but our interview with our friend put it out of my head. He is coming down to-day."

"What!" exclaimed Mr. Cass, running his eyes over the letter. "Is he well enough to travel?"

"Oh, yes; he has wonderful recuperative power. You see, he says there that he intends to see his mother. It appears she has sent for him. He must have gone to her yesterday as he is coming down to-day. I am anxious to see him, for I cannot help wondering why she should have sent for him. Do you think she might have something to tell him?"

"No." Mr. Cass shook his head. "I saw her the other day. She is quite ignorant who killed her husband; she is in the infirmary now, and very ill. I don't think the end is far off. I expect she sent for Neil to bid him good-bye." Mr. Cass paused for a moment. "You know, Heron," he said, "in spite of all the trails you have followed, I cannot help thinking that she really killed her husband."

"I cannot believe it. The person who committed the murder was the man who got those links--who dropped one under the window."

"Ah--then we shall never find out."

"Marshall might know; he might have recognised the footpads who attacked him that night," suggested Heron. Then he started, struck with a sudden idea. "By the way, is it possible that the gypsy Job was one of them? That would explain how he comes to be so intimate with your sister."

"I don't see that," remarked Mr. Cass, with a frown. "If she knew that Job had attacked her husband, and had afterwards murdered Jenner, he would receive but short shrift from the hands of Inez. She is no sentimentalist."

"But, don't you see," persisted Geoffrey, "she may think that he has the bill--she may be keeping her knowledge of the murder quiet so that Job may not produce the document and incriminate her husband."

"Inez knows nothing about the bill. You heard what her husband said!"

"He is such a liar!" cried Heron, in disgust.

"Nevertheless, I believe on this occasion he spoke the truth. I cannot believe that my sister--in spite of her love for that reptile--would go as far as to grovel to a gypsy and shield a murderer. No; the gypsy might have been one of those who attacked Marshall on that night; but I do not believe that he killed Jenner. Don't trouble any more about the matter, Heron. We have done all we could with no result. Besides, Mrs. Jenner--poor soul--will soon be released from her unjust imprisonment--if, indeed, it be unjust; death will set her free."

"What about Neil and his wish to see his mother cleared?"

"We shall see what he says about that," replied Mr. Cass, closing the subject in a more peremptory manner than was usual with him.

The same afternoon Neil Webster arrived at Hollyoaks, looking a shadow of his former self, pale and fragile, and very downcast. Ruth and Jennie both gave him a cordial welcome; and neither his host nor Geoffrey Heron were lacking in heartiness. But all the kindness and attention he received served only to make the young man more melancholy. Observing this, and knowing that he had seen his mother, Mr. Cass took the first opportunity to draw him into the library: it might be that Mrs. Jenner had told the poor fellow something. It appeared that she had.

"Yes, I saw her," Neil said, in reply to Mr. Cass's question. "She is dying; I have seen her for the last time! She cannot live many days now; indeed, I wanted to stay beside her till the end, but she would not hear of it. She said that I was to go away and remember always that she had loved me. For the rest, I was to put her out of my mind, and live as good a life as I could. Then she kissed me, and we parted."

"Is that all?"

"That is all; except that she has commanded me to stop searching for the real assassin of my father."

"Did she say that?"

"Yes; she said no one would ever find out the truth, and, moreover, that my father had deserved his fate. She was sure I had not committed the crime; she swore that she herself was guiltless; but she said that it was quite impossible that the truth should ever come to light."

"Do you think she knows the truth, Neil?"

"No; I am sure she does not. She said if she did she would have told me, if only to put my mind at rest. But she knows nothing. Poor mother!"

"And what do you intend to do?"

"Obey her commands," said Neil. "I shall search no more."