“What is it?” asked Herbert, stooping down and speaking in a gentle voice.
“It’s just this,” replied the other in a voice that was not more than audible; “I am satisfied that I’ve reached the end of my rope. The doctor says there’s no hope for me. I suppose it serves me right, but that don’t make me feel any better. I know I’ve led a very miserable existence, and I suppose that as a man lives so he must die. It’s too late for me to do any good in the world now; but while I have the strength and the voice I’d like to clear up one little thing in which I am satisfied you have a personal interest.”
“Yes?” assented Herbert with much eagerness, bending a little lower so that he might hear the man’s voice; “what is it about?”
“It’s about the robbery of John Black’s house in Cleverly.”
“I thought so,” exclaimed Herbert, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of the moment; “what is it you want to tell me?”
“Well,” said the other, “you know all about the rumors that flew around Cleverly at that time. Your father’s name was involved. I want to tell you, and it’s a dying man who is speaking to you, that he was innocent of that.”
“I know it,” replied Herbert; “but who was guilty?”
“I’ll tell you that very briefly,” answered the stricken man. “You know the kind of fellow I was. I had no scruples. I wanted to live without work. I got acquainted with young Arthur Black, and I am afraid that I was the means of corrupting his morals. I traveled with him a great deal, and he learned many vicious habits through me. Well, this went on for some time, and one day I was filled with the desire of getting a good stake and running off to New York. In the course of my acquaintance with Arthur Black I learned that his father sometimes brought home money from the bank. On this particular day a customer who came in from the country late in the afternoon was anxious to make a deposit. It was after business hours, and the safe had been closed and locked for the day. The cashier, who was charged with the care of the vault, had gone home and could not be reached. To accommodate the depositor, Mr. Black accepted his money and took it home with him that night. I was hanging around the door of the bank at this time and overheard the conversation between the two men. I was tempted. It isn’t necessary to say that it did not take much to tempt me; but I was filled with an unquenchable desire to get hold of that money.
“Well,” continued the wounded man, his voice becoming lower and lower, “I hunted up Arthur immediately and managed to spend the next two hours with him. I pumped him about the habits of his father and the routine of their household. I wanted to know particularly how he was able to get in the house when he left me late at night as he often did. He said, in his innocence, that his mother was always his friend, and that in spite of the anger of his father she persisted in taking care of him. One of the ways she employed to do this was to leave the key of the dead latch of the door under the mat which lay on the front porch. That was the very thing I was anxious to learn, and when I discovered it I left Arthur abruptly, saying that I would see him the next night. It was after midnight when I went around to the Black house. The inmates apparently were asleep. I hung around till nearly one o’clock in the morning, anxious that all the conditions should be ripe for my dishonest enterprise. When I lifted the mat I found the key there as it had been described to me by Arthur Black. I got into the house without difficulty and went to the old man’s desk. It was one of those frail roll-top affairs, and I succeeded in breaking into it without any difficulty. I took the money, and then to throw them off the scent, broke the bolt on the back door to convey the impression that the robber had entered in that manner.”
“What happened then?” asked Herbert eagerly.