He held it towards Rodney, who was able to read in embroidered lettering on the silk lining: “Dan. Purcell.”

Rodney nodded. “Yes,” he said, “but of course there was no doubt. Is it necessary for us to do anything more?” He indicated the creepers with a gesture of weariness and disgust.

“No,” replied Thorndyke. “We have seen the body and can swear to its identity and I can certify as to the cause of death. We can produce this hat, with a bullet hole, as I perceive, in the back, corresponding to the injury that we observed in the skull. I can also certify as to the death of Varney and can furnish a sworn declaration of the facts that are within my knowledge. That may possibly be accepted, by the authorities, having regard to the circumstances, as rendering any further inquiry unnecessary. But that is no concern of ours. We have established the fact that Daniel Purcell is dead, and our task is accomplished.”

“Yes,” said Rodney, “our quest has been successful beyond my expectations. But it has been an awful experience. I can’t get the thought of poor Varney out of my mind.”

“Nor I,” said Phillip. “And yet it was the best that could have happened. And there is a certain congruity in it, too. They are down there together. They had been companions, in a way friends, the best part of their lives and in death they are not divided.”

The End

Transcriber’s Notes

This transcription follows the text of the edition published by A. L. Burt Company in 1925. However, the following alterations have been made to correct what are believed to be unambiguous errors in the text: