[CHAPTER XI.]
RUTH'S DIPLOMACY.
Whatever might have been Neil Webster's intentions as to saving his mother by proving himself guilty, they were frustrated by a severe illness. His body could no longer bear the strain of constant worry and mental torture, and he was seized with an attack of brain fever. Then it was that Heron proved himself indeed a friend; he attended to the sick man and procured for him the very best advice. No brother could have done more for the poor fellow than did Geoffrey. Putting entirely aside his desire to be near Ruth and to prosecute his courtship, he devoted himself to restoring Neil to health.
Furthermore, at his friend's special request in the early stages of his illness, Geoffrey took all measures to prevent Mr. Cass hearing of the precarious state in which he lay. For Neil considered that the merchant had done quite enough for him and did not wish to give him any more trouble; so Geoffrey informed Mr. Cass that the young violinist had gone abroad for a rest by the advice of his doctor. Then he had him removed to Bognor and placed under the charge of Mrs. Jent, impressing upon her the necessity for secrecy. Thus it came about that for nearly two months he lay ill in bed at Bognor without any suspicion being aroused in Mr. Cass's mind.
To Ruth young Heron wrote and explained that Neil had given her up, but that he refused to say why he had done so. He added that he himself was going to Paris for a month or so, but that if she wanted him back he would return at the end of that time. Having thus sacrificed himself on the shrine of friendship, he went down to watch Neil through his dangerous illness. For he was quite determined that he should not die if human means could save him. So, with Mrs. Jent, he nursed his friend with the greatest tenderness.
Another friendly act he performed. He visited Mrs. Jenner and learned from her all the particulars of the case. At first she sternly refused to tell him anything, but when he informed her that her son was ill and that his only chance of recovery--this was a little embroidery of his own--lay in the hope of her innocence being established, she gave way. He had already succeeded in impressing upon her the fact that Neil could not have killed his father, notwithstanding all appearances to the contrary.
"From what you say, Mrs. Jenner," he remarked, "your husband was a strong man. Neil--I must still call him Neil--was a puny child. It is impossible that he could have struck such a blow. At best his strength could not have been equal to it, and Jenner could have brushed him aside as easily as he could a fly."
"That is true," said the woman, thoughtfully. "I found him with a knife in his hand standing beside the body."
"He might have entered the room and picked up the knife."
"But if this is go-and I begin to see things from your point of view--who killed my husband? I can swear that I did not, and if my child is innocent, who is guilty?"