‘Yes, I did. And that cursed confession must have been preserved, in some miraculous way, when the ship went down, for it floated ashore yesterday and my written words are in the papers. Thank goodness! it’s not all decipherable; but there’s no knowing what chemicals may do. Birnie, I must go away again; and this time, I fear, for good. There is God’s hand in this. I shall never know what peace is again.’ Dr. Birnie was fairly astonished. Gurth had never taken him so completely into his confidence as this before. ‘Gurth Egerton,’ he said, presently, ‘you must be mad!’ ‘I was, to sign such a damning document as that.’ ‘And to confess a crime which you never committed.’ ‘But,’ stammered Gurth, ‘you know I——’ ‘I know you stabbed your cousin, certainly, but it was only a scratch. I thought I told you I signed the certificate of his death.’ ‘Yes. To hide the real cause.’ ‘Nonsense! I signed a proper certificate. Ralph Egerton died from what I wrote on the certificate—from a complication of diseases brought on by drink. The wound had nothing to do with it. The bleeding did him good, if anything.’ Gurth Egerton sat like a man in a dream. ‘Do you mean that?’ ‘I mean you’ve been accusing yourself all these years of a crime you never committed. I called a physician in to Ralph—he can be produced, if necessary. The cause of death was what I say.’ ‘Why, in God’s name, did you never tell me this before, Birnie?’ exclaimed Egerton, still half dazed. ‘I never knew you accused yourself of the murder,’ said the doctor, quietly. ‘I showed you the certificate.’ ‘Yes, but I thought——’ ‘My dear fellow,’ exclaimed Birnie, interrupting, ‘you’ve been the victim of an hallucination. The sooner you get rid of the idea that you murdered your cousin, the better; and as to this confession, they’ll never decipher any more. The salt water has destroyed the paper, I take it. No chemistry can restore what does not exist.’ Gurth Egerton fetched a deep breath. He had punished himself all these years for his evil passions. He had fled when no man pursued. God had marked out his penalty, and he had had to bear it. And Marston had used this mare’s nest to frighten him with. Marston believed it true, and had triumphed over him. Ah, now the tables were turned. He was safe, and Marston was still at his mercy. Edward Marston went to the Waterloo terminus and waited for the first train that would take him down home. The first train left at six, and he walked about until it started. He was anxious to go down at once, and relieve his poor Ruth’s suspense. He had gained a week’s respite, and removed a dangerous enemy from his path. He would send Gertie up to the dying man at once. Gertie might plead with him for longer grace still for those who had been so good to her. At any rate, while things were as they were, it would be as well that the girl should be out of the way.