"Striver himself--by letter, that is," said Dredge, bringing out some papers from the pocket of his overcoat. "He is an accomplice after the fact. Miss Destiny, who actually committed the crime is dead, and her body--or what remains of it--lies at Tarhaven waiting the inquest, which will be held to-morrow. But Joseph will be searched for and arrested, as he knew the truth all along."
"Why did he not tell it?" asked Gertrude anxiously.
"I think you are to blame, Miss, or rather your sweet looks, Miss. Striver wished to use what he had learned in order to marry you."
"But what did he learn?" I asked, while Gertrude blushed at the complimentary tone of the officer.
"I am coming to that," said Dredge calmly, "all in good time, Mr. Vance. Two days ago I received a letter from Joseph Striver. It stated that he was sailing from a certain port to some foreign land, which he refused to name."
"Where is the letter written from?"
"There is no address given, Mr. Vance, but the postmark is that of London. It was posted at the General Post Office, so Striver has covered up his tracks very carefully. By this time he is doubtless on the high seas, and it will be difficult to trace him."
"Well?" I demanded impatiently, "and what did he say in his letter?"
Dredge took out an epistle--written on foolscap, as had been the one to me--and spread it out on the table. "There is no need to read it," he said gravely, "as I know the contents by heart."
"Yes; go on." Gertrude and myself were all attention.