Mellen opened one after another of the epistles and read--they were in Elsie's writing--they proved the truth of the villain's assertions. The smaller paper was a marriage certificate. The roll of bills--each note for a thousand dollars--was the price of Elizabeth's bonds. Mellen staggered back with one heartbroken cry. "I have touched you," exclaimed the man! "There lies your precious sister in a dead faint--here I am, dying, a criminal, but your brother-in-law none the less--stoop down, I want to whisper something." Mellen bent his head, for his enemy was dying. "It is a fair certificate you see, but I was a married man all the time." As Ford whispered these words a fiendish smile covered the lips on which death was scattering ashes. Mellen started forward with a wild impulse to choke the ebbing life from his lips, but they whispered hoarsely: "You can't fight a dying man--you'll only put me out of this cursed pain if you choke me." Mellen stood transfixed. "I'll tell you the story," continued Ford; "novels always have dying confessions in them--hear mine. I tell you because it is too late to remedy what you have done--your wife is gone--I'm glad of it. She was ten thousand times too good for any of you. She's dead, I dare say; just the woman to do it, without a word, and all for that little heap of froth." Mellen could not speak; he felt about blindly for support, and sank into a chair. "I always hated you," Ford went on, and the hatred of a life burned in his voice and convulsed his face. "When we were boys together, I swore to pay you off for getting that old man's money away from me, his rightful heir. That was bad enough, but your insolent kindness, your infernal, condescending generosity, was ten times worse. Mighty willing, you were, to dole out money that was more mine than yours, and claim gratitude for it. But I had a little revenge at the time, remember. I took away the woman you loved--I cheated you out of money--that was something, but not enough. I came back to this country just after you sailed from Europe, and even before I ever saw the woman who became your wife, or your sister, I had formed my plan--it succeeded. I met that bunch of flimsy falsehood--I made her love me--made her mad for me--you wince--I'm glad of it. But mind me, I would not have married her after all, but that I thought she had inherited half her old uncle's property. It would not have been worth while to saddle myself with a thing like that. Then came your turn to laugh, if you had but known it. I was taken in--sold. The creature had not a cent, and no hope of one if she offended you.