"Serves me right for killing that poor girl! Yes, I'm to blame that Oswald Langdon and Alice Webster were drowned! But tell the jury, Mary and the children were hungry! Tell them that. Tell the judge about Mary and the children. Don't forget to tell the judge that! Tell everybody about that!"
There was a long silence. With scared faces Sir Donald and Esther bent over the motionless form. The attending physician felt the wrist, listened for heart-throbs. A cordial was administered. That deathlike swoon lasted for several minutes, followed by slow return to consciousness. It was evident that further attempt of the sick man to relate his experiences with these archconspirators then would be unadvisable. The physician said there was some hope of the man's recovery, but that quiet and rest were imperative. Sir Donald and Esther were loth to go, but the hospital rules were strict. They left, much interested in the fate of William Dodge.
The confession, though confirming Sir Donald's theory of this conspiracy, was startling. That Paul Lanier had murdered both Oswald and Alice was evident. But what had become of the bodies? Could it be that the hat and handkerchief were placed where found to mislead as to manner of deaths? Were the bodies still in the river, or buried elsewhere? Perhaps the remains of Oswald and Alice had been reduced to ashes and scattered to the winds. How could the necessary evidence be obtained? How bring their murderers to justice without proof of the "corpus delicti"? Could this dying man know other facts furnishing a clew to establish their deaths? Would it be right to harass him with further inquiry upon the verge of the tomb? Why employ his slender thread of life in unraveling this intricate web. Better point him to that hope which is the refuge of a sinful soul.
But is there any way of saving this guilty wretch, with his crimes unconfessed? First confession, then shriving of the penitent.
Limit the mercy of Heaven? Is the Infinite compassion contingent upon finite fellow tactics?
Sir Donald and Esther felt more solicitude for the sick man's recovery than in further revelations.
Next day they are early callers at the hospital. William Dodge is still alive, but delirious. He slept much of the night, but is flighty, making many wild, incoherent speeches. Receiving permission to see him, Sir Donald and Esther approach the cot.
"No, Mary, I will never let you or the children starve! I got the money from Pierre Lanier! Dear old Pierre Lanier saved my Mary and the children! Put that down! Yes, the old rascal saved Mary and the children from starving! Put that down! Old Pierre saved me from being a murderer! Write that in the book, too! No, I never struck either of them! It was Paul Lanier! He murdered them! Your boy is not a murderer! Mother, I am innocent! Mary's folks said William Dodge could not provide for Mary! I did though! But Mary cried about the children! How Mary and the children ate that night! I got it all from dear old Pierre Lanier!"
There was another pause, and the delirious man seemed to sleep. Suddenly he struck his clenched hand upon the spread and stared wildly.
"You miserable murderer! Keep that money, and I will hang you! Send it to me, or I will tell how Paul killed Alice Webster and Oswald Langdon! That's right! Pay me, and it's all right! I'll never squeal! I need it for Mary and the children! They'll be happy now!"