"Certainly. Come in with me now if you like."
Dr. Brabazon led the way to his favourite room, the study, and they sat down there in the subdued light of the summer's evening. The sun had set; a crimson glow lingered in the west, and the evening star shone in the clear sky. Perhaps Mr. Henry was glad of the semi-light; it is the most welcome of all for an embarrassing interview.
"I have been anxious for you to return," he began in a low, distinct tone. "I did not like to make my communication to you by letter, and yet there was little time to spare."
"Why was there little?" interrupted the master.
"Because, sir, you may have occasion to look out for some one to replace me in the College."
"Are you going to leave?"
"Not of my own accord; but you will in all probability dismiss me when you have heard my confession."
He made a pause, but the doctor, waiting for more, did not break it. They were, as usual, near the window, and what light there was fell full on Mr. Henry. His hands lay on his knee listless; his face was bent, in its sad earnestness, towards the master. A strange look of contrition was upon it.
"I hardly know which you would deem the worse crime, Dr. Brabazon," he resumed; "the theft you were led to suspect me of, or the real offence of which I am guilty. I have not stolen property; but my whole life since I came here has been one long-acting deceit."
"Why, what can you mean?" exclaimed the doctor, who had nearly forgotten that there remained anything to explain, and was again putting full trust in his German master.