After the slight interruption caused by Bent’s collapse and removal, Sir Almeric goes on reading Guy Cheale’s statement from the exact place where he broke off:
“With this money I went abroad, and I was still abroad when the exhumation of Mrs. Garlett took place, and when Mr. Garlett was committed for trial. While abroad—in Spain, as a matter of fact—I became exceedingly ill. I therefore made for home. My sister unwillingly consented to hire a room in the house in which she was then living, namely the house in which I am now.
“In a sense it has been a race between my life and that of Henry Garlett. I hope—I try to persuade myself—that I should, in any case, have made this confession even had I not been a dying man. Had I done so I should of course have put myself first out of the power of English law, which would not have been difficult, as I have always been a rolling stone, as the silly saying is.
“I hope it will not be considered egotistic on my part to put on record my high appreciation of my wife’s fine nature. She is a thoroughly good woman, and I hope that in time she will forgive me, and that some man—a thousand-fold better man than I can claim to be—will make her yet a happy woman.”
And what is happening meantime in the cold, rather dark cell, where so many unhappy prisoners have sat, waiting to be taken upstairs to hear the verdict?
By special leave of the judge, Jean Bower has been allowed to go below and join her lover, who will not now be a prisoner for long.
Together again at last, Harry Garlett and Jean Bower are sitting on a hard wooden bench, hand in hand. They are not alone. Two warders are watching them with stolid faces, and they are still feeling bewildered, oppressed, by this wonderful thing that has happened to them.
Harry Garlett is saying to himself, “Guy Cheale? Guy Cheale! Why, Emily liked him—she liked him.”
The door opens. “Mr. Garlett,” says a kind voice—the voice of the Governor of Grendon Gaol. “Will you and Miss Bower come upstairs to hear the verdict?”
They get up. Still hand in hand they mount the dark stairs. Then the prisoner—he is still a prisoner—raises Jean’s hand and kisses it.