For a moment he muttered as if to himself, then, like a man taking a great resolution, he turned to a large safe and unlocked it. His hand trembled as he did so, as though he were afraid.
"I have only read the manuscript once," he said, "and I have not seen it for twenty years. I tremble as I look for it now. You will know why when you have read it."
He took from the safe a large parcel, wrapped in paper, on which were written the following words:
"THE CONFESSIONS
OF
ROGER TREWINION,
OF
TREWINION MANOR,
CORNWALL.
"May the Lord have mercy upon me a miserable sinner."
"Roger Trewinion was my grandfather," said he, as he saw me looking at the name. "My father was called Roger—I am called Roger—the last of my race. If—ah—if—but I daren't think of that."