"What is the matter, Mr. Heron? Are you ill?" asked the child, rising.
"No, I am not ill, dear. But give me back my brooch."
"I don't like it," she said, thrusting it into his hand. "A nasty bottle! Mine with the horse was much nicer. I'll ask grandfather to give me another. Now I'm going to play, Mr. Heron, do ask Aunt Ruth to give me back my dear little brooch."
The prattle of the child worried him terribly. "Yes, yes," he said, impatiently; "but run away and play now, dear." And as Mildred scampered off "Great Heavens!" he thought. "Can Cass have murdered the man? Impossible! He could have had no motive."
He was thankful to be alone, for he felt that in his present state of mind he could speak to no one. Therefore, still thinking of the new discovery he had made he felt annoyed to see Jennie Brawn leave the children and come towards him. He would have escaped her by walking off, but she called to him, and he had, perforce, to remain. She looked anxious and worried.
"Mr. Heron, I wish to speak to you particularly," she said. "I am so glad to find you alone. You look ill."
"I have had rather a shock, but really I am all right," he said, with an attempt at a smile. "What is it, Miss Brawn?"
"Well," she said, "it is a somewhat curious story. You know Ruth brought back with her a toy horse which she put into a drawer in her bedroom. She gave the children permission to open the drawer, and there they found the horse, George took possession of it and hid it away. Well, he produced the animal the other day; pulled it out of its hiding-place and proceeded to cut it open-to see what was the matter with it he said: I was in the room and watched him without paying much attention. If I had had my wits about me I should have recognised Ruth's horse and would not have allowed him to touch it. But, however, he did so and pulled out all the stuffing. I saw that he was making a mess on the carpet and went to stop him. Then I found among the stuffing a paper with your name on it. I waited for an opportunity of giving it to you, and here it is." And Jennie put into his hand a bill of exchange, old, discoloured and crumpled.
Hardly knowing what he was doing Heron glanced at the document and saw that his father's signature--Geoffrey Heron--was written across the bill, while the signature at the foot was that of Frank Marshall.