He so evidently alluded to the anonymous letter that Richard did not affect to misunderstand him. It might be better to speak openly.
"I believe you wrote that, Rane."
"True. I did. But not to injure your brother. I thought Alexander must be a bad man--that he must be leading Edmund North into difficulties to serve himself. I had no cause to spare him, but the contrary, for he had injured me, was injuring me daily; and I wrote what I did to Mr. North, hoping it might expose Alexander and damage him. There: you have it. I would rather have had my hand cut off than have hurt your brother. I wished afterwards that it had been cut off first. But it was too late then."
And because of that anonymous letter Dr. Rane knew, and Richard felt, that the accusation, now made, gathered weight. When a man has been guilty of one thing, we think it a reason why he may be guilty of another.
A silence ensued. They sat, the table between them. The room was rather dark. The lamp was shaded, the fire had burned low; before the large window wore stretched the sombre curtains. Richard North would have given some years of his life for this most distressing business never to have come into it.
He went on with what he had to say. Dr. Rane, motionless now, kept his hand over his face whilst he listened. Richard told of the public commotion; of the unparalleled shock it had been to himself, of the worse shock he feared it might be to his father. Again there was an interruption: but Dr. Rane in speaking did not raise his face.
"Is my liberty in danger?"
"Not yet--in one sense of the word. I believe you are under the surveillance of the police."
"Watched by them?"
"Yes. But only to see that you do not get away."