"And if I do, what then?" asked Hal, overborne by the man's conviction and vehemence.
"Tell it!" cried the other, beating his fist upon the desk until the blood oozed from the knuckles. "Tell it in print. Confess, man, and warn others!"
"Veltman, suppose we were to print that whole wretched story to-morrow, including the truth about your relations with her."
"Do it! Do it!" cried the other, choked with eagerness. "I'd thank you on my knees. Penance! Give me my chance to do penance! I'll make my own confession in writing. I'll write it in my own blood if need be."
"Steady, Veltman. Keep cool."
"You think I'm crazy? Perhaps I am. There's a fire at my brain since she died. I loved her, Mr. Surtaine."
"But you sacrificed her, Veltman," returned Hal in a gentler tone, for the man's face was livid with agony.
"Don't I know it! My God, don't I know it! But you can't escape the responsibility because of my sin. It was your paper that helped fool her. She believed in the paper, and in your father."
"The Relief Pills advertising is out. That much I'll tell you."
"Now that it's done its work. Not enough! You and I can't bring Milly back to life, Mr. Surtaine, but we can save other lives in peril. God has given you your chance, in this epidemic."