"Try to forgive me—try to know how wretched I am—sick, without work and without means.
"But even pity seems bitter to me now—life has all gone wrong, and only the thought of your innocent face, and the black guilt I tried to fasten on you, has given me the strength to write this letter.
"Ah, what a mockery Christmas is to the unfortunate!
"Yours, in sorrow,
"Louise Dearing."
CHAPTER XXII
STORMBOUND AT TANGLEWOOD
Dorothy dropped the letter in her lap. She was awed, surprised, distressed. Then, Miss Brooks did not take the ring? And why should the woman detective do such a thing?
For an instant only that thought occupied her. The next she pitied Miss Dearing.
"Poor woman!" she sighed to herself. "After all, perhaps she is really a victim of circumstances. And what a letter! If I only could help her—see her before Christmas."