“And now,” he continued, “I will take up the thread of my narrative in Quebec a few months ago, where I made the acquaintance of Denzil Carew and Christopher Burley. I was struck at once by the remarkable likeness the former bore to Osmund Maiden as I remembered him. As for the law clerk, I suspected what his errand was, and from that time I began to consider the chances of passing myself off for Osmund Maiden. We had been of the same age, not unlike each other, and he had told me every incident of his early life. The thing seemed impossible at first, but when I learned from a paper at Fort York that the Earl of Heathermere and his two elder sons were dead, I was more than ever set on gaining the rich prize.
“And a strange fate played the game into my hands later, as you shall see. You remember the cryptogram at old Fort Beaver, Carew. Well, that gave me something to think about—I had an inkling of the truth then. And soon afterward I found the key to it. How? you will ask. I will tell you. It was in the locket worn by the Indian you shot—the Indian who had killed your father years before. I managed to take it out and conceal it——”
“You stole it!” I cried bitterly.
“Call it that, if you like,” he answered, with a shrug of the shoulders. “I tore up the key, but here is a translation of the cryptogram.”
He handed me a slip of paper, and I read aloud the following:
“To my son, Denzil Carew: To discover secret of my birth, search for papers in North Tower, behind third stone above door. Your father.
“Bertrand Carew.”
“That same night,” resumed Captain Rudstone, “when I was on guard at the camp, I slipped away into the storm. I reached Port Beaver the next day, read the cryptogram, and found the papers; with them were the receipt for the trunk at Fort Garry and the key. I was now in possession of proofs which I believed would secure for me the title and estates of the Earl of Heathermere. But I need say no more—you know the rest. I have failed in the hour of triumph, and I accept my defeat with the philosophy that has ever been a part of my nature. If I felt any scruples, Carew, they were on your account. You are a good fellow, and I am glad you have come into your own. As for me I suppose I must pay the penalty of my misdeeds.”
With that the captain finished his story and stood regarding us with an impassive, cynical look on his handsome face. I confess that I pitied him from my heart, as I thought of hia wasted talents, of the months of comradeship we had spent together. Indeed, I had never liked him more than I did at that moment, and yet he would have robbed me without compunction of my birthright.
“This is a serious matter, Captain Rudstone,” Macdonald said sternly. “You have confessed to a great crime. I will decide to-morrow what is to be done with you. For the present I must keep you in safe custody.”