Chapter 25

THE RED POCKET-BOOK.

"What is the matter, child?" asked Mrs. Marshall, sharply.

But Ruth could not answer. She sat with the red pocket-book in her lap, gazing upon it as though it were a viper. Aunt Inez repeated her question impatiently then, surprised at her niece's silence, she crossed the garret. Her eyes fell at once on the red book, and for a few seconds no word was spoken. Then at last Ruth made a remark, and made it in a hushed voice, as though she feared it might be heard by others than the frozen woman before her.

"It was not produced at the trial," was what she said, looking at her aunt.

Mrs. Marshall might have been a granite image for all the movement she made. Her face was like snow, her eyes fixed as though she were in a cataleptic state. And so she was--for the moment. Only when Ruth, who was the first to recover herself, made a motion to rise did she shew any signs of life. She sighed deeply and removed her eyes from the book.

"I will shew it to my father," said the girl; whereat her aunt changed suddenly into a creature of fire. She snatched at the pocket-book and had it in her grasp before Ruth could close her fingers upon it.

"You will shew it to no one," she said, thrusting it into her pocket. "I forbid you to say a word."

"Tell me how it came to be here, and I will consider if it is right for me to be silent."

"I will explain nothing. Girl, what demon brought you here and shewed you that book? I came up here to look for it; I have been searching for over an hour. You came in and found it in a few minutes. It is fate--fate."

"Aunt Inez," Ruth drew back until she was standing up against the wall, "you--oh, no!--you did not--did not--kill the man!"

Mrs. Marshall shrugged her shoulders, her colour and her courage coming back to her almost as she spoke. "You are at liberty to think so if you like. I will not contradict you. No, indeed. I have other things to do."

"Will you contradict my father?"

"I forbid you to tell your father of this."

"I must! I will know the truth of this matter. There is an innocent woman in gaol for----"

"An innocent woman!" interrupted her aunt, with contempt. "Oh, yes, very innocent!" She paused and looked at Ruth. "Come downstairs," she said. "As you have found what I wanted, we need not remain here."

"You knew that this book was hidden here?"

"Yes; I have known it for years."

"Why did you not produce it at the trial?"

"That is my business."

"How did it come into your possession?"

"Ah! that I refuse to tell you. Think me guilty if you like. It is evident you want to smirch our family name. But I have had enough of this nonsense. You must hold your tongue."

"To all persons save my father. I must tell him, and I will."

"I forbid you."

"It is no use your forbidding me. I tell my father. He has the honour of the family quite as at heart as you have; and he is the man to decide what should be done."

"You will tell?"

"Yes; I am going straight home to tell all."

The eyes of the two women met, and for a moment there was a duel of wills. Then Ruth, with her more youthful fire, got the upper hand; her aunt turned away.

"You are bringing me into great danger," she said; "but have it your own way. Tell your father."

"Aunt! You did not kill the man?"

"Think so if you like."

Mrs. Marshall passed out of the garret. Ruth remained a moment to recover her self-control which had been sorely shaken by this extraordinary conversation. Then she also went down the stairs to the inhabited portion of the house. Mrs. Marshall was not to be seen; and on inquiring of the servant, Ruth learnt that she had locked herself in her bedroom and refused to see anyone. In this dilemma there was nothing left for the girl but to go home, which she proceeded to do feeling sick at heart.

On the way to Hollyoaks a sudden thought struck her. Suppose her aunt were guilty--suppose she had shut herself in her room to commit suicide! If she had not been almost at the gates of the park when this occurred to her she would have run back. But the best thing she could do now was to see her father and implore him to go to Aunt Inez at once. She felt there was no time to be lost, and ran up the avenue as quickly as she could. The window of the library which opened on to the terrace was ajar, so taking this as a short cut she ran up the steps on to the terrace and flung herself into the room with a white and haggard face.

"Ruth! What is the matter? Ruth!" cried Mr. Cass, and sprang forward just in time to catch her in his arms. For a minute or so she could not speak, but when speech did come the words poured out in a torrent.

"Aunt Inez," she cried. "I went to see her. She was in the garret; there I found the red pocket-book--Jenner's book--which was stolen! She will not say if she killed him; yet she knew that the book was in the garret. Oh, see her at once, father--at once! She has locked herself in her bedroom. I believe that she will kill herself!" and the excited girl burst into tears of exhaustion and terror.

Mr. Cass said nothing, but put her into a chair. Indeed, he did not know what to say, or even what to think, for he felt completely stunned. He had suspected Marshall, but never Inez. Even now he did not believe that she could ever have brought herself to commit such a crime.

"Go! Go!" cried Ruth, wringing her hands. "Aunt Inez--you may be too late! She will kill herself, I know she will!"

"No fear of that," said her father, recovering himself somewhat. "She is not the woman to give up the fight in that way, Inez. No, she never killed that beast--never!"

"But, father, the red pocket-book----"

"She will be able to explain how she came by it. She has a temper, and is fierce enough when she is roused; but she would not go so far as that. As to committing suicide, she has no reason for doing that, if she is innocent."

"I hope she is. Oh, I hope she is" wailed Ruth, distracted with terror.

Her father saw that the girl was thoroughly overwrought. In her present state of mind everything would be exaggerated. He intended to go at once and learn the truth from his sister, but he could not leave Ruth in this plight. Before he went he must soothe her. So, pulling himself together--no easy task, at his age, for he had received a severe shock--he sat down beside the terrified girl and took her hand firmly in his own. "See here, child," he said, "however that book got into Marshall's hands your aunt had nothing to do with it. She did not--she could not have killed Jenner. I know it because she was in this house on the night and at the time of the murder."

"Then if she is innocent why didn't she tell me so?"

"Well, you know what she is. No doubt she was angry to think you should conceive her capable of such a crime. She will tell me all she knows, if she has any knowledge, which I am inclined to doubt. But I want you to understand, Ruth, that your aunt is innocent, and that her innocence can be proved by me. Under these circumstances, she will not commit suicide, as you appear to think. I will go over and see her at once, and I shall doubtless have a reassuring report to give you when I return. But you must promise not to worry while I am away; and above all things, Ruth, do not tell anyone of this. There may be trouble."

"I will say nothing--nothing," panted the girl, pressing her hands against her beating heart. "And, indeed, father, I did not meddle with the matter again. The discovery was thrust upon me. You can trust me, indeed you can."

"And you will not make yourself ill with expecting the worst?"

"No, no; I promise I will go to my room and lie down."

"That's a good girl; and I will walk over at once."

"Ride--ride! You don't know what may happen."

"Nothing bad, at all events. Yes, I will ride. Now go to your room, dear, and leave me to attend to this."

"Yes, father," she said, faintly. She had the utmost belief in his capability of arranging the situation. "But kiss me before you go. I am--I am rather frightened."

"Believe me, there is no need for that," said Mr. Cass, with an attempt at a smile. "There is your kiss, now go."

Mr. Cass reviewed the whole situation as he rode over to his sister's house. He reflected that Marshall must have told his wife about the bill, for that and the book were, so to speak, inseparable.

"In a word," thought Mr. Cass, as he dismounted at the door and gave his horse to a groom, "Marshall did not kill the man himself, but he knows who did. But I'll make Inez tell truth in some way. This is no time to consider her feelings."

Following the servant, he went into the stone-coloured drawing-room, and found his sister waiting to receive him. She was dressed in black, without a scrap of white to relieve her funereal aspect.

"I did not expect you to come so soon, Sebastian," she said, in her rich, low voice. "But I knew you would come sooner or later."

"I could hardly help coming after what Ruth told me." Her brother was surprised at her composure.

"What did she tell you?"

"That the red pocket-book belonging to Jenner had been found by her in this house."

"To be particular, the garret," said Mrs. Marshall, pointing to the table. "There it is."

He looked at it with repugnance, and touched it gingerly. Then he opened it, glanced at the name, and laid it down with a sigh. There was no doubt it had been Jenner's property, the name was clear enough. "How did it come into your possession?" he asked, sharply.

"That is not an easy question for me to answer."

"Yet it can be answered, and must be, answered."

"How do you know that I will comply with your 'must'?" she asked, with scorn.

"Oh, I know you are hard to drive, but in this case you must speak out. I have the means to make you, that is if you have any regard for your husband."

"You know how I love him, little as he deserves it. You are talking of the bill. Oh, don't look so astonished. Frank told me of his conversation with you. It was by my advice that he went away."

"Inez, is it possible you can love so base a creature?"

Mrs. Marshall sighed. "To you, Sebastian, I will say things I would not say to any other person. Little as we love one another, still we are brother and sister. I know you would do much for me."

"I would do anything for you, Inez; blood is stronger than water, after all. And you can speak freely to me, your honour is my honour. I can hold my tongue. Speak out freely," he repeated.

"I will," she said, and gave him the kindest look that had been in her eyes for many a long year.

"You know how madly in love I was with Frank when I married him. It was not love, it was infatuation I believed him to be the most perfect and the most misunderstood man in the whole world. I blamed you for getting him out of the business, and I thought to repair your wrong by marrying him. Well, I did; and then what happened?"

"I can guess. The scales fell from your eyes."

"They did, within six months. For even then he deceived me. Yes, after all I had done for him. I had made him rich. I had--but that comes later on in the story. Suffice it to say, that I soon found out that I had married a faithless brute."

"Why did you not get rid of him? I would have helped you."

She cast a look around the dismal room and smiled strangely. "Because I had committed a sin. I came to look upon Frank as the cross laid upon me for the expiation of that sin."

"Good Heavens, Inez! You don't mean to say you killed Jenner? No! What nonsense am I talking? You were in bed on that night."

"I did not kill Jenner," she said, calmly. "Nevertheless I had committed a sin; you shall hear all in good time. Well, I took Frank as my cross, and put up all these years with his infidelities, and drunkenness, and wickedness. I behaved to him as though I still loved him. I have deceived everyone."

"You certainly deceived me for one," said Mr. Cass, bluntly. "I thought you still loved the creature."

"Loved him! Why, I hated him with all my soul. It was only my religious principles, and my desire to expiate my sin, that made me tolerate him."

"In Heaven's name, what is your sin?"

"I'll tell you soon enough," she said. "But do not be afraid. I have not dipped my hands in blood. Let me tell my story in my own way. It is not easy for me to tell it at all. I only do so now in order to avert, worse trouble."

Knowing her obstinacy, her brother saw that it was useless to protest. "Go on," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Have your own way."

"I often wish we had kept to our mother's faith," continued Mrs. Marshall. "She was of the true Church, and Catholicism is such a comforting religion. One has a confessor; that would have done me good. I have often longed to confess and relieve my mind."

"Why did you not confess to me?"

"I had no reason for making you my confidant, Sebastian," she said, icily. "Well, I was of the Protestant faith, and could not confess, so I had to bear my own sorrow as best I could. Frank tried me at times with his dreadful ways, but I had a whip to manage him."

"What was the whip?" asked Mr. Cass, struck by the fact that she used almost the same phrase that he had used to her husband.

"I will tell you shortly; but I mortified my flesh in every way. Look at this house. You know how I love pretty things, and yet I spend my life in the midst of these horrors. I am fond of----"

"See here, Inez," broke in her brother, "I want I to know about this pocket-book. You can tell me your feelings later."