“The lost pitcher—stolen the day my mother died—and I was warned never to try to find who stole it.” He turned to the light of the west window.
“It is the very thing I found in the cave that night. The man who took it may have been over there.” He glanced out of the window and saw a thin twist of blue smoke rising above the ledges across the river.
“Who can have had it all this time, and why return it now?” he questioned. As he turned the pitcher in his hands a paper fell out.
“The message inside!” He spread out the paper and read “the message inside.”
Well for him that Dr. Fenneben had left him alone. The shining face and eyes aglow changed suddenly to a white, hard countenance as he read this message inside. It ran:
“Victor Burleigh. First, don't ever try to follow me. The day you do I'll send you where I sent your father. No Burleigh can stay near me and live. Now be wise.
“Second. You saved the baby I left in the old dugout. Before God I never meant to kill it then. The thought of it has cursed my soul night and day till I found out you had saved him.
“Third. The girl you want to marry—go and marry. Do anything, good or bad, to destroy Burgess.
“Fourth. The money Burgess had is yours, only because I'm giving it to you. It belongs to Bug Buler. He couldn't talk plain when you saved him. He's not Bug Buler; he's Bug Burleigh, son of Victor Burleigh, heir to V. B.'s money in the law. I've got all the proofs. You see why you can have that money. Nobody will ever know but me. Don't hunt for me and I'll never tell. TOM GRESH.”
The paper fell from Victor Burleigh's hands. The world, that ten minutes ago was a rose-hued sunset land, was a dreary midnight waste now. The one barrier between himself and Elinor had fallen only to rise up again.