He shook his head. "I have been ill for days. To-day the doctor told me I could go out. I overheard my hostess asking her husband if he thought it would hurt me to tell me about Ruth. I at once demanded an explanation and when I had been told that Ruth was in jail charged with the murder of her husband, I waited to hear no more but took the train and came straight to you. I naturally supposed—that is, of course—knowing your love for her I assumed you would do your best to free her by—by taking her side," he said brokenly.
I sighed. Once more the miserable details had to be recounted and then I laughed harshly. Mr. Trenton looked at me as though he thought that I must have taken leave of my senses. For the moment I verily think I had, for the thought came all unbidden that I was another Ancient Mariner relating my tale to all who crossed my path, only I could not remember what crime I had committed that I should be punished in so terrible a manner.
"Do you suppose it could have been in a former reincarnation?" I asked him in all seriousness.
"For heaven's sake, man, brace up!" cried Mr. Trenton alarmed. "You can't afford to go to pieces now!"
I passed my hand wearily across my brow. "I—I guess I'm pretty nearly all in," I mumbled, sinking into a chair.
Ruth's father looked across at me compassionately. "Poor boy," he said gently. "I won't worry you for your story to-night."
"Have you any objections to my remaining here with you?" he continued presently, as I preserved an unbroken silence. "I—I can't bear to return—to that crime-haunted house," he added with a shudder.
"Certainly. Glad to have you. I'll ring for Jenkins," I murmured vaguely, trying to rise. But my legs refused to support me and my head fell back heavily against the cushions.
When next I opened my eyes I was in my bed and Jenkins was moving softly about the room.
"What time is it, Jenkins?" I asked, sitting up.