His voice broke, and he bowed his head upon his wrinkled hands. No tears came––but the thin shoulders shook, and a dry sob tore its way from the gaunt throat.
Blaine waited until the paroxysm had ceased, and then urged, gently:
“Go on, Hicks. You have something to tell me?”
“Yes, sir. The coroner and the press call it accidental death, but I––may God forgive me for saying it––I know better! He left word where none could find it but me, that you knew the truth, and he bade me give you––this!”
He produced a large, square envelope from an inner pocket, and extended it in his trembling hand to the detective. Without glancing at it, Blaine laid it on the desk before him.
“Where did you discover this?”
“There is a flat, oblong casket of old silver, shaped somewhat like a humidor––a family relic, sir––which stands upon the center-table in the den. Whenever Mr. Rockamore had any message to leave for me in writing, concerning his confidential business, which he did not wish the other servants to have access to, he always slipped it into the casket. After the coroner had come and gone this morning, and some of the excitement had died down, I went back to the den, to straighten it. I don’t know why, but somehow I half suspected the truth. Perhaps it was the expression of his face––so peaceful and resigned, with all the hard, sneering lines the years had brought gone from it, so that he looked almost like a boy again, the bonny boy who used to ride helter-skelter on his pony through the lanes of Staffordshire, long ago.”
The aged man spoke half to himself and seemed to 274 have fallen into a reverie, which Blaine made no attempt to break in upon. At length he roused himself with a little start, and went on.
“At any rate, when I had the room in order, and was standing by the table taking a last look about, my hand rested on the casket, and quite without thinking, sir, I raised the lid. There within it lay a sealed envelope with my name on it! Inside was a certified check for two thousand pounds made out to me––he didn’t forget me, even at the last––and that letter for you, together with a little note asking me to––to take him home. Is it true, sir, that you do know the whole truth?”