August Bordine had suspected this for some time, and was consequently the least astonished of any present.
"Although you cast me into that well, I did not perish," proceeded the detective, after a moment. "The well was not deep, and there was no water in it, so that the fall only stunned me a little. I soon recovered, and managed to climb to the surface on the jagged stones. It is not necessary to detail how I made my way from the building. No one saw me, and once free, I resolved to disguise myself completely, and thus work to better advantage.
"You of course supposed me dead, and so proceeded with more boldness than you would otherwise have done. This suited me. Your resemblance to August Bordine puzzled me for a time. I did not discover the truth until I saw you both together the time that my faithful Tige prevented you from murdering Bordine in the fisherman's shanty. I dogged your steps and found where your wife lived. I mistrusted you meant to destroy her, and at one time tried to frighten you from your wicked purpose. I failed, but succeeded in capturing you at last."
The detective paused.
The criminal said nothing.
He could not; he was completely broken up, and would have sunk to the ground had not one of the stout policemen supported him with his arms.
A low sob fell on the ears of all.
The eyes of the group turned to Rose. She rested on the breast of August and was weeping bitterly.
She, too, was broken up.
When the wicked cause of all the trouble was led away to prison, and none remained in the little garden but the old mother, August, and Rose, the latter disengaged himself from his hands and said, with a quiver in her voice and a moisture in her eye: