Probably Leonard only heard the voice, not the words, for he passed his hand over his face, and looked up to the Doctor, saying dreamily, 'Let me see! Is it all true?' and then, with a grave wistful look, 'It was not I who did that thing, then?'
'My dear!' exclaimed the Doctor, starting forward, and catching hold of his hand, 'have they brought you to this?'
'I always meant to ask you, if I ever saw you alone again,' said Leonard.
'But you don't mean that you have imagined it!'
'Not constantly—not when any one was with me,' said Leonard, roused by Dr. May's evident dismay; and drawn on by his face of anxious inquiry. 'At Milbank, I generally thought I remembered it just as they described it in court, and that it was some miserable ruinous delusion that hindered my confessing; but the odd thing was, that the moment any one opened my door, I forgot all about it, resolutions and all, and was myself again.'
'Then surely—surely you left that horror with the solitude?'
'Yes, till lately; but when it did come back, I could not be sure what was recollection of fact, and what of my own fancy;' and he drew his brows together in painful effort. 'Did I know who did it, or did I only guess?'
'You came to a right conclusion, and would not let me act on it.'
'And I really did write the receipt, and not dream it?'
'That receipt has been in my hand. It was what has brought you here.' And now to hearing ears, Dr. May went over the narrative; and Leonard stood up under the little lamp in the roof of the carriage to read the papers.