"I would rather you knew it from me, since you must know it. Mr. Anstruther is instructed to detain me on suspicion of being somehow implicated." He looked imploringly at the detective, who came gallantly to his rescue.
"Merely on suspicion, Miss Austen," he said, in a full rich voice that conveyed confidence somehow. "I am more sorry than I can say that it falls to me to come on such an errand, but I fancy you would be the last to wish me not to do my duty."
Ralph kissed Gwendolen, who clung to him.
"We must show a brave front, Gwen," he said. "It's horrible to think that anybody can suspect me of having had a hand in the dear old man's death, but since somebody does, the only thing now is to clear myself before the world." He turned to Mrs. Austen. "If I should happen to be unable to come home to-morrow, I wonder if you would mind taking up your quarters at the Manor House? I should like to think that you and Gwen were there, and it might be well if someone was available to help Mr. Tracy if necessary."
"Of course we will if you wish it," Mrs. Austen said. She was boiling over with indignation at the outrage, but controlled herself admirably, partly for her daughter's sake and partly from a natural pride which forbade her to betray emotion. Indeed, they were all wonderfully self-possessed.
"A thousand thanks," Ralph said gratefully. "Martin will see you home and will come on to get me anything I may want. Good-night, Mrs. Austen. Good-night, my darling."
He pressed his lips passionately upon her mouth, and she returned him kiss for kiss. Then, with head erect and a proud look on his frank and boyish face, he led the way downstairs, followed by the detective; while, on the houseboat, Gwendolen, clasping her mother's hand, strained longing eyes upon his figure until it was lost to sight amid the shadows of the trees.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A FAITHFUL SERVANT.
For Ralph, in the period of forced inactivity that followed, existence became a nightmare; the charge against him being one of murder, bail was not granted, and his innocence, instead of making his incarceration tolerable, added to its horror. He felt stifled, and raged at being shut up within the four walls of a cell in this glorious summer weather, when, but for the crass imbecility of some over-zealous detective, he might have been luxuriating in the sunshine with Gwendolen on the Thames. By degrees, too, a morbid nervousness took possession of him. When brought before the magistrates he was astounded at the weight of evidence that seemed to have been piled up against him in the interval; what a clever counsel for the Crown might make of it all he was afraid to think, and talking about it to Mr. Tracy afterwards, frankly admitted that he was beginning to feel uncomfortable.