“Can you prove it? Can you prove it? I’ll give you my fortune, Nick, if you can prove that.”
“We shall see.”
“But——”
“Come forth there, from behind the door,” shouted Nick.
And Harry Royal, deeply moved by what he had heard, with tears in his eyes and sobs shaking him, strode out from his concealment.
Flood reeled a little, staring, gasping for breath, then raised his hands and pointed to the young man he had so unselfishly served.
“But I saw him—I saw him above the body!” he cried wildly.
“I discovered it only by chance, Mose, on my word.”
“But the satchel—you had in your hand the satchel with the money——”
“No, no, on my life, no!” screamed Royal. “It was my own, the satchel I had brought from Boston. I had it when I left your house. I know no more than you of the killing of Cecil Kendall.”