"No," answered Sturgis gravely, "I did not think it likely she knew as much about this matter as we do, and I shrank from the ordeal of revealing to her the fact of her husband's crime and tragic death. I wished, at any rate, to exhaust all other means of obtaining information before resorting to this one."
"Of course, of course," said Dunlap somewhat impatiently; "the woman is naturally to be pitied; but I could not allow any sentimental consideration to stand in the way of the discharge of my duty to our depositors."
"What did you learn from her?" asked the reporter.
"When I reached the house the maid told me that Mrs. Arbogast had spent the previous evening at her sister's house in the country and had not yet come back. I was about to leave, intending to return later in the evening, when the lady herself arrived. Upon learning who I was she seemed somewhat surprised but invited me in. As we passed into the parlor the maid handed her mistress a letter, stating that it had come by the morning's mail. Mrs. Arbogast glanced at the envelope but did not open it. At my first cautious questions she seemed to be very much surprised. Arbogast had announced to her by telegram the previous day that he would be obliged to go out of town for a few days on business. He allowed her to infer that he would soon return, and that his business was connected with the affairs of the bank. She could not understand how it happened that I knew nothing of this trip. 'But,' said she, 'I have just received a letter from him, which will, doubtless, explain matters.' She evidently knew nothing of her husband's peculation. Thereupon, she opened the envelope and took out this letter. I observed her closely. At the first words I saw her cheeks blanch and a look of agony pass over her features as she instinctively pressed her hand to her heart. I knew then that the letter contained some important revelation, and I became anxious to obtain possession of it. When she had done I could see that she was laboring under a strong emotion; but she controlled herself, replaced the letter in its envelope, and said merely: 'This does not tell me my husband's whereabouts; but I shall doubtless have further news of him in the course of a few days.' I saw that she was attempting to shield him in the supposition that he was still alive. I therefore broke the news of his death to her as gently as I could. The first shock seemed to utterly unnerve her; but after awhile she became somewhat calmer. 'After all, it is better so,' she said, at last. Then she handed me this letter. There was no further reason for withholding it. Read it now."
"It is postmarked at the general post-office at five o'clock," said Sturgis; "it was therefore mailed before or during Chatham's visit to the bank. It may have been mailed by Arbogast before the scrubbing was done, or perhaps by the chorewoman when she left the bank."
The reporter drew the letter from its envelope and read:
"The Knickerbocker Bank,
"New York, December 31, 1896.
"My Darling Wife,
"When you receive this letter I shall be far away—a disgraced criminal—and you will be worse than a widow.