Geoffrey nodded with some embarrassment. "I did," he said, frankly. "But can you blame me? Appearances were against you."
Mr. Cass shrugged his shoulders. "No, I don't blame you," he said. "But you might have given me the benefit of the doubt. Appearances are against Marshall, too. Well, we shall see if he is as wrongly suspected as I was. Are you going now? It is early."
"I should like to see Ruth for a few minutes."
"Well, she will be quite as glad to see you. She is dull, poor girl, and the horror of this thing--so much as she knows of it at least--has got on her nerves. Go and see her, and come here at eleven to-morrow. Of course, you will tell her nothing."
"Certainly not. Good-night."
"By the way, I forgot to tell you that Webster is coming down next week. He is much better, and I think the change will do him good."
"Humph! Will you tell him of this discovery?"
"I don't know. What do you think?"
"I should say nothing until we are quite certain. Let us our own counsel for the honour of the family."
"I think you are right," said Mr. Cass with a sigh. "Heaven grant, for the happiness of us all, that we are wrong in our suspicions. Now go, my dear hoy, and leave me to think the matter over. Ruth is waiting for you."