“There was to be an answer, to show that I delivered the letter to the proper party,” said the old man.
Victor wrote, folded, and sealed the missive and placed it, with a silver coin, in the man’s hand.
“Take it to the one who sent you,” was Victor’s parting admonition.
The old man thanked him. Victor opened the door, and, standing at the head of the stairs, watched the aged messenger as he went slowly down and out into the street. Then Victor returned to his room and read and re-read his letter until the words and the lines became blurred and he could see no more.
It began:
“My Dear Vandemar:
“You will no doubt be surprised when you see the name upon the outside of this letter, and then compare it with the one which you have just read, upon learning that it means one and the same individual. You will also, no doubt, be surprised to learn that your right name is Vandemar Della Coscia, instead of Victor Duquesne, and that your father’s name is not, and never was, Hector Duquesne, but the one which you will find at the end of this letter.”
Vandemar looked and read the name—Manuel Della Coscia.
“An explanation is due you, my son. Seventeen years ago, a man named Conrad Batistelli was found dead in one of his fields, and the evidence pointed to me as the murderer. There was no vendetta between our families, and I could not have pleaded that in justification. I did not commit the deed. The one who did is dead and cannot exonerate me. In order to save him, I consented to leave the island and take you with me. I did not care for my own life, but I did not wish to see yours cut short by the hand of the assassin.
“I have sent for you to come to Corsica because I wish to prove my innocence and to restore to you the noble name which is your birthright. There is no older family on the island than that of Della Coscia, and no young Corsican can boast a prouder lineage of noble and patriotic men. Your ancestors were Corporals, and the honour of their names descends and rightfully belongs to you.