"I do not think so, lady. But I yielded to Mrs. Marshall's request to take shelter here. One place is as good as another to die in; she is good to me; I have this house--and a little money to buy food."
"Why is she so kind?" asked Ruth, sharply. "Such kindness is not in her nature. Have you done her a good turn?"
"Perhaps I have; maybe I have not," Job said, coolly. "See here, sister, I knew you would come back to ask questions. I saw it in your eye; but I know when to keep my mouth shut."
"You do--when it pays you. Well, I have no wish to pry into your secrets, Job. Keep your own counsel."
"I intend to," replied the man. "And it is a good thing for your family that I do."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing that I can tell you."
"Job"--Ruth looked at him sharply--"are you hinting at any disgrace?"
"No: what disgrace could befall so noble a family? I hold my tongue."
"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?"