"Thank you, Dick. Now let me speak while I can—let me tell it all. I recognized my nephew in Philadelphia, and you I discovered on the field of Monmouth. I heard you speak of the papers, and it was then I first conceived this awful crime. I wanted the title and estates—I wanted to be Earl of Ravenswood, Dick, and you and your son stood in the way. But I hated you both because you were rebels, else I could hardly have gone so far. I had you carried off the field, and I told the Hessians to kill you—"
"I suspected that, Gerald. I saw and recognized you when you rode by me to the rear. But I was too weak to speak."
"And do you know what I did next, Dick? Do you know that I sent a band of ruffians to steal the papers—that I paid Simon Glass to kill your boy—my own nephew?"
"Yes, I know that, too. I heard it from Nathan, who was mercifully saved from death."
"And can you forgive me, Dick? I have no right to ask it, but I am truly repentant. You won't refuse a dying man?"
Captain Stanbury leaned over and took his brother's hand.
"Gerald, I do forgive you," he said. "I have no right to be a judge, and you are paying the last penalty of your sins."
A look that was almost peaceful came into Major Langdon's eyes. He gasped for breath, and feebly raised his head higher.
"I shall die happier now," he said, "as happy as any man in my circumstances can. But what are you doing here, Spencer? I can't understand it."
In a few words Godfrey explained, and the Major smiled faintly. "You did right, my lad," he whispered. "I am glad that Glass is dead, and that he failed in his purpose. What a wretch I have been! I sent you along, Spencer, so that Glass would know my nephew from his resemblance to you. It is a strange likeness, and I have often wondered at it."