"I hope this mistake has gone no farther," he said, at last.
"No," I answered, and genuinely thankful I was that I could say so. "I kept it absolutely to myself."
He breathed a sigh of relief.
"Then no harm has been done. I'm glad of that. I see that you're glad, too."
"Yes," I said; "I am—more glad than I can say."
"And now that you understand the matter," he continued, "I suppose you see it in a different light?"
"In a different light?"
"At least, you'll hardly advise now that I keep silent?"
"By no means," I asserted heartily. "I think it is clearly your duty to tell all you know. You will absolve Harriet Kingdon from responsibility for her act—as you said, change loathing to pity. Besides, if the dead man deserved death, let the world know it."
"I don't know that he did," corrected my companion; "I know nothing about him."