“The rest is soon told,” said Adler, his voice sinking to the merest whisper; “I became aware of the excitement that had been created by the robbery and kept myself in seclusion for some days. I felt a little bad when I learned that an effort had been made to place the robbery on your father, and when he died I was almost on the verge of making a confession; but didn’t do it. Some days after this I decided to go to New York with the money, and in a fit of devilishness resolved to take Arthur Black to New York with me. It seemed to me a very clever trick to entertain this foolish boy with the money that I had stolen from his father. You know the rest. We came here and he went from bad to worse until we got into that get-rich-quick concern which led to the breaking up of our partnership. Something happened to him then. What it was I have never discovered; but the boy turned good, and left me, saying that our paths would lie in different directions in the future; and he has kept his word from that day to this. You remember what happened the other night when you had me cornered in old Black’s house. I used Arthur’s name to secure my own liberty. There you have the whole story. I’m sorry for what I’ve done; that’s all I can say.”
The importance of this confession was appreciated by Herbert, who through the assistance of the superintendent, hastily summoned a stenographer and a Notary Public. Although the effort was a very painful one, Adler repeated his story just as he had told it to Herbert. After it had been reduced to writing, he swore to the truth of it, and then having a pen placed within his trembling fingers, signed his name in scrawling lines.
Herbert asked the man if there was anything he could do for him. He said if it was possible to lighten his last hours in any way he would be only too glad to do it; but Adler shook his head in a melancholy way and said he had no request to make. Herbert wanted to know if he had relatives or friends he wished to see before his death. Once more he shook his head, and added:
“My mother died when I was only a few years old; my father never took care of me. I don’t know now whether he is dead or alive, and even if I was aware of his abiding place I would not ask him to come here.”
Herbert felt a strange lump coming into his throat at these words. He wondered with a queer feeling about his heart whether he would have been any better than this dying man if his early life and surroundings had been the same; but when he left the hospital it was with a feeling of elation over the strange manner in which every detail of the Cleverly mystery had been brought to light. The vindication of his father’s memory was absolutely complete, and he could now go out into the world with a firm step and with his head in the air. On his return to his room he told the whole story to Tomlin, who listened with absorbed attention. Late that afternoon he made another call at the Samaritan Hospital. The superintendent, who was in the office, gave him a nod of recognition.
“How is that wounded man?” asked Herbert.
“Dead,” was the terse reply.
CHAPTER XXIV
WHEREIN THE CLOUDS PASS AWAY AND THE SUN SHINES ON HERBERT HARKINS
Herbert Harkins voluntarily assumed the care and disposal of the remains of the unfortunate criminal. The young reporter was acquainted with the Coroner’s undertaker and through his assistance and that of some mutual friends he was able to secure a cheap lot in an out of town cemetery. The obsequies of the departed one were pathetic in the extreme. The only two mourners at the funeral—if they could be called mourners—were Herbert Harkins and Francis Tomlin. The whole affair was tinged with an atmosphere that was at once sombre and desolate; but at all events Adler had been given a Christian burial, and that was the thing that Herbert desired most of all.
“You’re a curious fellow, Harkins,” said Tomlin to the young man on their way home from the cemetery.