"Because you are paid for it," retorted Ruth. Already her wits were at work trying to search out the reason for all this: she scented a mystery and began vaguely to connect it with the Jenner case. Half in jest, half in earnest, she asked a leading question. "Do you know anything of this murder?" "No. Duvel! I should think not. It was before my time." "Yet I wonder you are not afraid to sleep in this room. It was here that the body was found." Job laughed, and stared at the stains on the floor near the window. "Yes; it was here," he said. "But I know nothing." "You know what I found last time I came to this place?" she said, recalling the glance exchanged between her aunt and the gypsy. "Perhaps," replied Job; then he began to laugh. "Oh, you are a rare one, lady, you are!" he said. "You would rob me of my new tent by asking me to speak about what does not concern you." "Ah! Then you have something to conceal?" "Perhaps," said Job again. "But you may as well stop, sister. I hold my peace until I die." Ruth looked at him fixedly. By this time she felt quite sure that the secret which procured for Job food, and fire, and roof-tree, was connected with the murder. "What you know has nothing to do with Mr. Cass--with my father?" she asked in a low voice. "No, no; on my soul it has not," he said, earnestly. "Why do you think so, sister?" "Has it anything to do with the murder?" "I cannot tell you." "You need not, for I can see the truth in your face. Tell me this, do you know what I found under that window?" He looked at her. "Yes, I know," he said, softly, and refused to speak another word. CHAPTER XX. WHAT MR. CASS HAD TO SAY. Mr. Cass arrived home in a more cheerful frame of mind. His business, whatever it was, had evidently prospered, and the look of anxiety which his face had worn had given place to his usual imperturbable smile. He was relieved, too, to hear that Amy had gone. Altogether, when, the dinner hour arrived, Ruth found that he was as pleased as ever to be alone with her. "By the way, my dear," he said, after the dessert was placed on the table and they had had some desultory chat, "we are about to have a visitor." "Geoffrey?" asked Ruth, eagerly. She was longing to see her lover again. "No; Neil Webster. I have been to Bognor to see him. He is much better, poor fellow, though still far from well. However, he is coming down here, where he will be surrounded with more comfort than Mrs. Jent can provide. Before long I hope he will be quite restored to health." "I am glad he is coming, papa." She hesitated, and then continued in a low voice: "Are you going to assist him?" "I thought we had agreed to close that discussion, Ruth?" said her father with some coldness. "Assist him? What can I do? I have told him that I will endeavour to prove his mother's innocence, but I have not much hope of success. Whatever you may say, Ruth, I believe the woman is guilty."