“Yes, I did. I did everything with my eyes open. I ought to suffer for it. The only trouble is that those I love will suffer with me. But don’t you think the restoration of fortune will bring back Mr. Darley’s mind?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell about that. He is very queer.”
“Do you have a doctor for him?”
“Oh, no. I’d be afraid they’d want to take him away. I expect I’m selfish about it. But bring the boy here. He is old enough. We can talk it over with him, and maybe his father will recognize him.”
“I can come any time, then?” said Sydney.
“Yes, now I know who you are.”
“Good night, then. I shall see you soon again. I feel better than when I came.”
Sydney rose and walked to the door without assistance. As soon as the boys saw him they hurried out to help him into the carriage. Within three minutes they were driving towards home and a church clock near by chimed one—for half past twelve.
“Boys,” began Sydney, “I have something to tell you. I was not glad before that I was not your own brother. I am glad of it now, because—I am a criminal.”
There was a pause. No one spoke. There was no sound but the rattle of the wheels. It was too dark to see the expression on the faces of the twins. Rex was leaning partly forward, one hand gripping Roy’s knee. He could think of nothing save the night Mr. Keeler had spent with them and the horror they had had of him before they found out that it was his brother whose picture was in that book.