"That is not the truth," she said. "Alan knew before he went to Mexico.
He knew long before. That was the other ghost—the one he could not lay.
Don't lie to me. I know."
And then yielding to her command Dick began again and told her the truth, serving Alan's memory well by the relation. One thing only he kept back. After all he had no proof that the young engineer had been right in his conjecture that Alan had wanted the dagger to find him. There was no need of hurting Tony with that.
"Dick—I can't call you John yet. I can't even think about you to-night though I am so thankful to have you back safe and well. I can't be glad yet for you. I can't remember any one but Alan. You will forgive me, I know. But tell me. It was a terrible thing he did to you. Do you forgive him really?" The girl's deep shadowed eyes searched the young man's face, challenging him to speak the truth and only that.
He met the challenge willingly. He had nothing to conceal here. Tony might read him through and through and she would find in him neither hate nor rancor, nor condemnation.
"Of course I forgive him, Tony. He did a terrible thing to me you say. He did a much more terrible thing to himself. And he made up for everything over and over by what he did for me in Mexico. He might have let me die. I should have died if he had not come. There is no doubt in the world of that. He could not have done more if he had been my own brother. He meant me to like him. He did more. He made me love him. He was my friend. We parted as friends with a handshake which was his good-by though I didn't know it."
It was a fatal speech. Too late Dick realized it as he saw Tony's face.
"Dick, he meant to let himself get killed. I've thought so all along and now I know you think so too."
"I didn't mean to let that out. Maybe I am mistaken. We shall never know. But I believe he was not sorry to let the dagger get him. He had given up everything else. It wasn't so hard for him to give up the one thing more—the thing he didn't want anyway—life. Life wasn't much to him after he gave you up, Tony. His love was the biggest thing about him. I love you myself but I am not ashamed to say that his love was a bigger thing than mine every way, finer, more magnificent, the love of a genius whereas mine is just the love of an every day man. It was love that saved him."
"Dick, do you believe that the real Alan is dust—nothing but dust down in a grave?" demanded Tony suddenly.
"No, Tony, I don't. I can't. The essence of what was best in him is alive somewhere. I know it. It must be. His love for you—for all beauty—they couldn't die, dear. They were big enough to be immortal."