"And Irene is your wife?" said Julius Revington's gasping voice.
"Irene is my wife," replied Guy Kenmore.
"And you love her?" said the dying man, wistfully.
"As my life," was the low, fervent reply.
"I loved her, too, but it was a selfish love," sighed the sufferer. "She despised me, but I bought her promise to be mine by a selfish barter. I had told her that her mother was legally married, and that I would give her her grandfather's confession on the day she became my wife. I was hard and cruel to her. Ask her to forgive me if she can, Mr. Kenmore."
"I will," answered Guy Kenmore, whose grave face had suddenly grown radiant.
A moment later Mr. Stuart asked, gravely:
"And did you really fire a pistol at Elaine's horses to-night, Julius?"
"Yes, and found my death in doing so," he groaned. "The same hand incited me to that desperate deed that did old Ronald Brooke to death. She was furious with rage and fear when she saw her rival on the stage, and she conceived that terrible plan for putting her out of the way. But I am thankful that my nefarious deed failed, although I can scarcely conceive how my victims escaped."
"I can tell you in a moment," answered Guy Kenmore. "In turning an abrupt corner of a street, the carriage parted from the horses, and left us safe, though sadly bruised and frightened in the battered vehicle."