“I wonder now,” he said, coming a step or two forward, “if you have been following me about on the sly for the last day or two? Do you happen to know that I had taken that letter and also the writing Leslie Gilroy left here the other day to Essex the expert? You are sharp enough to know most things. Did you find out about that?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“My meaning is plain enough. It is better to make confession before open detection, is it not?”
“I don’t know anything,” continued Annie; “I have never heard of Mr. Essex before. I am the most wretched, miserable girl in the world. I came to you to confess, not knowing that you were able to expose me. It does not matter now in the very least whether you expose me or not, for I am going to expose myself. I did write that letter. I knew at the time that it was forgery; but I was desperate. Rupert wanted sixty pounds. He said that if he did not get the money he would be locked up; the police were already after him. He owed the money for a debt of such a nature that if he did not pay it he would be locked up.”
“Well, all this is coming to the point with a vengeance,” said Mr. Parker.
Annie clutched hold of the nearest chair to steady herself.
“I am miserable, and I know that I deserve imprisonment, or anything you like to give me,” she said.
“We will leave out the question about your deservings for the present,” said the merchant. “What I want is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
“Well, I did it,” said Annie; “I did commit forgery. I was nearly mad. I have always loved Rupert better than I ought. He was my only brother, and I—I could never turn from him. It was idolatry, and I am punished.”
“Go on with your story,” said Mr. Parker.