"Go on, mon brave," he said. "I will do what I can for you--and myself."
"It's about those letters I found in your possession," Prout said, "the letters to you from your brother. I know they are from your brother, because I have seen him, and also his handwriting. You need not be afraid of him, because he is far beyond being injured by any one in the world."
"Say," the other whispered fiercely. "Poor Leon--is he dead?"
Prout nodded. It was some little time before the other spoke. His next question startled the detective.
"Was he murdered?" came the hoarse whisper.
"He was. You didn't know he was dead, yet you guessed how he died. He was the victim of what you call the Corner House----"
"Ah, I remember now. I was too busy to read, but I heard people speaking about it. My poor brother, my poor Leon."
"Leon--?"
"Leon Lalage."
"Your brother's name was Leon Lalage?" Prout asked.