Chapter 28

THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS.

Geoffrey was at Hollyoaks when Mr. Cass arrived home. He had come over simply to see Ruth, never dreaming that any further revelations about the case awaited him. But his host lost no time, and at once invited him and Neil Webster into the library. There he left them for a moment while he went upstairs to see his daughter and tell her that all was well with her aunt.

"You need not trouble your head, my dear," he said. "Your aunt got that pocket-book from Job, who"--here, for obvious reasons, he suppressed the truth--"who picked it up on the road. Now, is your mind at rest?"

"Completely." She kissed her father fondly. "But Geoffrey! I sent down to say that I was ill; he will be disappointed."

"I will speak to him. Meanwhile try and get some sleep. You can see him another time."

In this way he managed to set her mind at rest; then he returned to the library to have the matter out with the two young men. He found a letter lying on the table, and, making some excuse, opened it at once; for he had become so accustomed now to the occurrence of unforeseen events that the sight of an envelope addressed in an unknown hand made him anxious lest it should bring some new element of trouble.

"Ah, Neil," he said, as he ran his eyes over the contents, "this is from the prison chaplain. Your mother wishes to see me."

"Can't I go with you?" asked the young man, rousing himself.

"I think not. She told you to keep away, and it is only right that you should obey her. To-morrow I will go up; and when I return you shall know all that has passed between us. Meantime, I have a painful story to tell you and Geoffrey.

"Oh!" said Heron, quickly. "More about this case?"

"Yes: I think we are getting near the truth now. I have made several important discoveries. By the way, Geoffrey, Ruth will see you to-morrow; she is not very well--in fact, she had rather a severe shock to-day."

"This confounded case, of course!" remarked Heron, forming his own conclusions; and naturally enough, for his mind was now wholly occupied with Mr. Cass's promised revelation.

"Yes; about the case," said Mr. Cass again. "I want you to give me your closest attention. And, first, both of you must promise me to say nothing of what I have told you until I have given you leave. For the matter concerns a member of my family."

And forthwith he plunged into the middle of the exciting history, and told it with as much detail as he could remember. It was necessary to make things perfectly clear to his listeners, as he relied upon their judgment to help him out of the cul-de-sac into which the whole affair was now wedged. At the conclusion of the story Neil, who had been more or less excited throughout, although he had refrained from interruption, jumped up and began to pace the room.

"There isn't the slightest doubt," he said, "that Job Lovell killed my father to get possession of that pocket-book.

"I thought you would say that," said Mr. Cass, drily; "and what do you say, Heron?"

"It seems probable that Job did kill the man," said Heron, with a grave nod. "Marshall, you say, Mr. Cass, was in this house at the time: your sister had got back to her bedroom. Now, only these two knew that the bill was in the pocket-book or had any interest in getting it."

"You forget Job; he knew all."

"Job must be the murderer!" exclaimed Neil, with flashing eyes, "and my mother is innocent. Now she must be released."

"I will see to that," said Mr. Cass, composedly. "But you must let me manage the matter in my own way. I do not wish the rascalities of my precious brother-in-law made public. If Job can be proved guilty, he must be punished. In any case, as soon as we are certain of his guilt, Mrs. Jenner must be released." Mr. Cass paused, then added abruptly: "I hold you both to your promise."

"If I had my way," said Neil, "I would go at once to Job, and force the whole truth out of him. As it is, I shall not move in the matter until you give me permission. My mother told me to leave things as they were--you have asked me to do the same. I owe you too much, Mr. Cass, to break my promise."

Mr. Cass, much affected by this speech, shook the young man warmly by the hand; then turned an inquiring eye upon Geoffrey, who answered the look. "I will do nothing, Mr. Cass, since it is your pleasure to thresh the matter out yourself. But I only warn you that Job may kill himself."

"How do you mean kill himself--on account of this murder?"

"Maybe--I don't know. But he is dying slowly, and in much pain. His fellow-gypsies will have nothing to do with him--he is too much of an outcast even for the Romany! I heard from one of my servants that Job, in a drunken humour, had threatened to put an end to himself by burning down the Turnpike House. In order to do this, I believe he has lately bought a large quantity of petroleum.

"Ha!" exclaimed Mr. Cass, suddenly, "I know. The house smelt terribly of petroleum; I daresay he has soaked the whole place in it, that it may burn the more quickly. What is to be done? The man seems to be in earnest."

"You must get his confession as to how he committed the crime."

"That would be the best thing, no doubt," assented Mr. Cass, "but to-morrow I want to go up and see Mrs. Jenner. She seems to be very ill, and wishes to see me at once."

"Heron had quite made up his mind that he would see Job the first thing in the morning; but Providence intervened with a sprained ankle. Returning home late from Hollyoaks, he was overtaken by darkness, and in some way--how he could not explain--he stumbled and rose with an aching ankle, which next morning was so painful and swollen that his housekeeper begged of him to give himself a day's rest; but he declined this advice, and managed to drag himself to the library. It was a dreary day, but towards the end the monotony was broken by the announcement of a visitor; and to his surprise, a figure in rusty black clothes was shewn in--a creature which smirked and grinned and rolled its head in a half-witted way; Geoffrey stared.

"Jerry Hutt!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing in this galley?"

"I am Mr. Hutt when I pay visits," said Jerry, with dignity. "Only when I'm put upon at home by mother and master am I called Jerry."

"Well, then, Mr. Hutt," said Mr. Heron, humouring the strange creature, "I should like to know your business. Take a seat."

Jerry obeyed, first going through the ceremony of dusting a spotless chair so that his rusty suit might take no harm. He had furbished himself up for the occasion, and wore a flaring red tie as spruce as Julian Roper's green one, and as ill-suited to the person who wore it. In this was stuck a pin which, when he had seated himself near Geoffrey, the latter could see very clearly. It was an oval piece of gold adorned with the enamelled figure of a ballet-girl!

While the unconscious visitor sat smirking blandly on his chair, Mr. Heron rang the bell; and when the butler entered, spoke a few whispered words, upon which the man cast a startled look at Jerry and hurried from the room. In three minutes the door of the room half opened and closed again. Then Geoffrey knew that the under footman--a strapping young giant--was waiting outside in case Mr. Hutt might be compelled to make a too hasty exit.

"Well, Mr. Hutt," said Geoffrey, "what is it?"

"I thought you were never going to speak," said Jerry, in an injured tone, "and I'm that hungry and dry, you wouldn't think!"

"First we will have our talk, Mr. Hutt; then I will see about having you provided with refreshment. Your errand! quick!"

"It was the master sent me here," Jerry said, becoming more respectful as he delivered his message; it was as though the spell of the sender were on him. "He bids me say that if you can give him that bill of exchange, he's willing to buy it."

"That's very good of him," Geoffrey said, ironically. "And why does he want the bill of exchange you speak of?"

Jerry nodded mysteriously. "I know; but I mustn't tell," he said.

"You must tell, or I won't discuss the matter with you."

"Well, it isn't a secret; leastways, neither mother nor master said 'Hold your tongue, Jerry.' I can say this much, that master wants to be upsides with that Mr. Marshall--you know why."

"What do you know about Mr. Marshall?"

Suddenly the smirking creature was transformed into a furious beast. "I know that he killed Miss Elsa, he did!" shouted Jerry; and the man outside was instantly on the alert to run in and aid his master. "Aye! She was a beauty, and he broke her heart. I hoped to have made her Mrs. Jerry Hutt," he added, with a sob, "but that wicked Mr. Marshall he had her put in the ground. I'll never see her again! But I want to lay him by the heels. I do, quite as much as master does; and that bill of exchange will do it.

"Ah! you know all about the bill of exchange, then?"

Jerry nodded. "I listened after you went away, and I know it was the same as they spoke of at the time of the murder. Ugh!" he shivered, "that were a gory murder, bless my soul!"

"We will leave the bill alone for the time being, Jerry, and talk of something else--that beautiful breastpin, for instance! Where did you get the thing from, Mr. Hutt?"

Hutt blinked, quite pleased that Mr. Heron should admire his jewellery. "I picked it up," he said, nodding. "It wasn't a pin, but I made it one myself."

"And where did you pick it up, Jerry?"

He shook his head. "I can't tell you that," he snapped, and frowned.

"Well, I know that you picked it up not far from the Turnpike House, my friend, and that you dropped the other part of the link under the window."

"The window!" gasped Jerry, turning almost blue with suppressed fear.

"Yes; the window of the Turnpike House through which you killed Jenner." Hutt stared blankly at him, his eyes starting from his head. Then he gave vent to a long howl like that of a beaten dog, and slipped on to his knees. "Oh, don't hurt me!" he sobbed. "I never did anything! I'll tell you all. I'm frightened--the master said I'd be caught some day!"

"Then you did kill him!" Heron almost shouted.

"No, I didn't," snuffled the man. "You can't hang me for not doing what I didn't do! Here!" loosening the breastpin, "you can have it." He threw it to Heron. "I don't want to be put in gaol, please--please!"

His dim brain had seized upon the idea--from the few words Heron had spoken--that the gentleman knew all, and could hang him.