"It is a strange story," said Edward, when he had finished; "but I see no reason for doubting its credibility. All along I have been possessed by a sort of intuitive certainty that one day the truth would leap to light in a way the least expected, and now it has done so. After all, it will be a relief to have someone to share the secret with."
"You should have shared it with me from the first. But the question now is, what ought to be done next?"
"I scarcely follow you."
"I mean, as regards John Brancker. Ought he not to be told?"
"Told what?"
"What Ephraim Judd told me. It was the last wish of the dying man, as expressed by him to me, that such reparation should be made as was still possible."
"Just so! You would tell John Brancker all about the blood-smears, and also reveal to him the fact that Judd saw him quit the Bank five minutes after he had entered it, although at the trial he swore to the contrary. This you would tell, leaving Brancker to deal with the statement in whatever way might seem most advisable to him."
"That is precisely what I have thought of doing. So far everything seems perfectly clear. But, as regards the latter portion of the confession--supplemented as it is by our father's letter--that concerns John Brancker infinitely more than all the rest."
For the second time the eyes of the brothers met in a long, steady gaze.
"John Brancker was tried for a crime of which he was innocent, and was acquitted," said Edward, in a hard, cold voice. "To-day he is a free man--as free as you or I."