After reading the letter Ted passed it to the major without comment, and walked to the window, that he might not be a witness to his emotion. He was now very sure that by the strangest of circumstances Major Caruthers had come across a bit of personal history, and that it was giving him a heart-tearing experience. In a moment he heard the sound of a sob behind him, followed by others, which, however, subsided gradually, and he heard his name called. Ted came to where the major sat on the side of the bed, holding the photograph in his hand. "It is the picture of my sister," he said quietly, for he was now the master of his emotions. "Then Farnsworth is your brother," said Ted. "Yes, my brother, poor chap," answered the major, gulping down a sob. "It is strange, very strange," muttered Ted, almost to himself. "I felt sure you were related, there was such a strong resemblance between you." "I didn't notice it. Why didn't you speak of it?" "Farnsworth knew that you were his brother, and I have no doubt he would have made himself known to you had he not been compelled to flee before the deputy marshals. I know that he was deeply affected at meeting you, and saw that he hesitated to make himself known." "I didn't know him. I had not seen Fred since he was a little boy, when I went into the service. Then he went away to school, and I to India. I am much older than he, so we did not meet. When I returned to England from India he had disappeared on account of a foolish row with our father. Our only sister, Helen, had married a scamp against the wishes of the family, and had left England also. Shortly after that both our parents died, and I came to America with the intention of finding both my sister and brother, and this is how it has turned out." Tears were coursing down the major's pale cheeks. "Don't you see how it is?" he asked, holding out the photograph to Ted. Suddenly it dawned upon Ted, and he took the photograph and gazed at it eagerly. It was Helen Mowbray, the sister of the major and of Farnsworth, or Fred Caruthers, to give him his real name--the woman who had been strangled to death in her house at Rodeo. This was a shock indeed. The complications which had arisen in these few hours were sufficient to shatter the strongest nerves, and Ted himself trembled a little at the possibilities unfolded by this unforeseen and unexpected knowledge, while it entirely unnerved the major, and left him as weak as a child. What was to be done? It was not likely that Fred Caruthers could be found at once. That he knew that it was his sister who had been murdered, and that he was charged with the crime, would be sufficient to spur him on and on, his brain and heart filled with horror. And that he had just found his brother, who might have given him all the moral support he needed at such a time, only to be driven from him by the fear of mob law, which he knew would give him no chance whatever for his life, was an additional sting.