There was a brief silence.
"I see now," said Colin slowly. "He told me he knew when he was beaten, and that's evidently what he meant." He paused. "And the letter?" he asked.
Marsden put his hand in his pocket and produced a large square envelope.
"The letter was my chief reason for coming down here. As a matter of fact, it was addressed to you, but under the circumstances I've taken the liberty of opening it."
He presented the envelope to Colin, who, after glancing unbelievingly at his own name, pulled out and unfolded its contents.
"3 ALBERT TERRACE,
"KENSINGTON.
"My dear Gray,—You will probably be surprised at receiving a letter from me, but you must put it down to the whim of a dying man.
"The truth is, I feel that I owe an apology both to you and to Miss Seymour.
"I will make no attempt to defend my conduct. I frankly admit that it justifies practically every one of the uncomplimentary epithets which you hurled at me in the course of your dramatic visit.
"The only accusation against which I must enter a protest is that either Fenton or I was in any way concerned with the murder of my old friend and client, the late Professor Carter. On this point you are entirely mistaken. It was the work of that senseless ruffian Cooper, whom we had employed to assist us in breaking into the Red Lodge when we found it necessary to examine the Professor's papers. I sincerely hope that this information will be of some assistance in bringing him to the gallows.