“Ten years.”
“Ten years! Then, indeed, I deserve the severest penalties that the law can inflict! Ten years! I could not believe that from other lips than yours! And that man knew you were there all that time, and yet took no action to set you at liberty! But no; I had told him that it was better so, and I suppose he took it for granted that it was. Yes, he is guiltless in the matter.
“To resume my confession. I escaped with the money intact, as I imagined; but when I came to open the receptacle, far away from you and the cave, I found, to my consternation, that more than half of it was missing, and its room taken up with stones and earth! You had evidently grown so suspicious of me as to abstract the money and conceal it in the cave during my absence in the city. That was the only solution of the mystery that occurred to me.
“How I raged! My punishment was beginning already. But I was not softened; if I had dared, I should have returned to the cave, and dug up every foot of ground within it. But I feared that detectives were already on my track, and I hurried on, a baulked and furious man.
“Greater misfortune was yet to overtake me. The box containing the stolen treasure was torn asunder in a steamboat explosion on the Mississippi, and the treasure was scattered and lost beyond recovery in the muddy waters. Thus I lost what remained to me of the treasure, and was left, penniless, friendless, homeless; a fugitive, an outcast. Since that time, I have lived I know not how; at one time stricken with fever in the tropics; at another time languishing in prison for some petty crime; sick, persecuted, longing for death. Minions of the law often pursued me for minor irregularities; but the secret of my one great crime never came to light. In my distress I joined the army, and hoped to find relief in fighting the battles of my country—my country, to which I was an odious reproach! I often thought of returning to the cave, to discover what had become of you, and to make such restitution as lay in my power; but I never had the moral courage to do so. For the last year, I have lived in this forest, in fellowship with this man, James Horniss.
“I now surrender myself to outraged justice,—voluntarily, even gladly,—for I can endure this way of life no longer. Forgive me, if you can, Mr. Lawrence, for I have been tortured with remorse in all these years.”
The villain’s story was ended; and Uncle Dick, Henry, the officer of the law, and Jim Horniss, fetched a sigh of relief.
They felt extremely sorry for the sick man who had confessed so eloquently and prolixly; but Mr. Lawrence was not so “tortured” with pity as to plead for his release from punishment. In fact, he had nothing to say against the law’s taking its course with him. However, he spoke kindly.
“Mr. Monk,” he said, “I forgive you freely, for it was my own foolishness that led me into your power. As for the money, it seemed fated that it should melt away, and to-day not one cent of it remains. I am glad to see you in a better frame of mind, sir; but I must leave you now to see how it fares with my nephew. Come, Henry.”
“And your story?” asked the confessor, with a curious and eager air.