He opened the door for her, and as she was passing out, he stooped and touched her hair with his lips. She smiled up at him, and her lips softly breathed the word "Dearest!"
Could she have seen the change which came over his face the moment the door was shut behind her, she would have been startled, indeed. The transformation was marvelous. The real man was alone with himself.
"Poor Roden, indeed!" he murmured. "But what about poor Felix? And alas!--and alas! What about poor Madeline?"
He was standing in the middle of the floor, turning over the letter absently between his fingers.
"How little she dreams of the awful knowledge which a few short hours must inevitably bring her? For there must be no more delay. This mad act of Rodd's has served to bring matters to a climax a little sooner than I intended. Today is Thursday, and Saturday was the day I had fixed on in my mind as the one on which my long hidden secret should be laid bare to the world. But now that the end is so near, it matters not whether the revelation be made today or a few hours hence. Yes, after twenty years--the end!--just as the past with its dread secret was beginning to assume the vagueness of a half forgotten dream, and life was becoming sweeter to me than ever it had been before. If, perchance, I see tomorrow's sunrise, it will scarcely be from the windows of Fairlawn!"
He crossed to the chair vacated by his wife, and sat down in it.
"I may as well read what that foolish Rodd has to urge in defense of his insane action, although I know quite well beforehand the line of argument he will take."
With that he opened the letter and began to read:
Sunbridge Jail, Thursday, 6 A.M.
My Dear Foster Brother: