"I doubt if he could now, seeing that your father--who alone could give evidence as to the falsity of the signature--is dead. But why does he hate Marshall so bitterly?" "Well, it appears that Roper had a daughter who fell in love with him she would have married him, and he had given her every reason to believe that he would. But, of course, he stopped at that, and she died of a broken heart. I don't think there was anything scandalous about the affair--nothing worse than the playing fast and loose with the affections of the unhappy girl." "He always was a scoundrel. I paid him a large sum to leave my firm, as I feared he would do something criminal some day. Then he married my sister. I begged her to give him up; but she was headstrong, and insisted. Great Heavens!" he cried. "And he married her very shortly after he had committed this crime. Yet I doubt very much if he would have had the courage to kill Jenner." "Will you tell me what led you to suspect him?" "In the first place, from the circumstances of his return on that night; in the second, these links." "How is that? I should like to know all from the beginning." "Well, Marshall was staying here on the night of the crime. He looked out of sorts; but he made some excuse--I forget what. After dinner he said he was going out for a walk; it was wet and misty, and I tried to dissuade him. My sister had gone to bed with a headache. I was alone, and, although I never liked him, I wanted to talk to him. But he insisted upon going. About nine he returned, knocked at the library window--that French window over there--and I let him in, torn and muddy and wild with fear! He said that he had been set upon by robbers--footpads. The next morning I heard of the murder, and I spoke to him about it, but he swore that he had not seen Jenner." "Tell me about the links. Are they yours?" "Yes; I bought them many years ago, when I was young and vain. Marshall saw them, and took a great fancy to them; so I gave him the set--and now"--Mr. Cass clenched his hands--"I fear, if he got his deserts, that they would hang him!" And, quite overcome, he bowed his head on the table. CHAPTER XXI. RUTH IS COMFORTED. Presently Mr. Cass raised his head and looked at Geoffrey with such a woebegone expression that the young man started. It seemed as if the merchant had grown suddenly old; lines appeared on his face which had never been there before; his eyes were sunken, and his shoulders had bowed themselves as though the whole weight of his misery had been placed upon them. The transformation was at once startling and painful. "Don't take it so much to heart," said Heron. "After all, we may both be wrong about Marshall." "I hope so. I trust so." was the hoarse reply. "But if he is guilty, what am I to think of myself? I had a suspicion, on the grounds of which I have told you, yet here I have allowed an innocent woman to spend all these years in gaol, when that scoundrel should have been in her place."