Mrs. Darling paused to dry her eyes, maintaining with an effort her outward composure. Appreciating her feelings, Nick waited a few moments and then inquired:
“Are you sure, Mrs. Darling, that his death was not due to an accident?”
“Positively,” she replied. “To begin with, Mr. Carter, he left this letter on the chiffonier in my bedroom. You may read it.”
She took it from the library table while speaking and tendered it to the detective.
Nick read it, the following few lines written with pen and ink.
“My Dear Myra: Forgive me for the step I am going to take. I am driven to it by feelings I cannot describe. I am sick and tired of the whole business—of life itself. I am going to end it. Forgive and forget me.
“Cyrus.”
Nick replaced the letter on the table, saying considerately:
“There seems, indeed, to be no reasonable doubt of Mr. Darling’s intentions. You recognize the writing, I infer.”
“Yes, surely,” she replied. “Furthermore, Mr. Carter, there were found in the ruins numerous articles that positively identify my husband’s remains. They included the buttons on his garments, which were entirely consumed; also his pocketknife, his false teeth, and a plain[Pg 6] gold ring. His revolver also was found near by, and it is supposed that he shot himself after setting fire to the boathouse, presumably to make sure that his terrible design could not miscarry.”