"What is it?" asked Brock, taking the blue envelope drowsily. "A letter from your old friend, Dr. Carson." Brock woke up with a start. He was clearly agitated. "From a dead man? What does it mean?" "A message of some import, no doubt," said Mallow. "Young Carson brought it home with him, but forgot to deliver it." "A voice from the grave!" muttered Brock, unheeding. His hands were busy with two papers--a closely written letter, and a dozen long pages of foolscap of aggressively official appearance. Mallow's fingers itched to take them up, but he judiciously restrained himself; and watched the vicar skim his eye over the letter. Its perusal seemed to move him greatly. "Wrong, wrong," he said, folding it up. "Better to let the dead past bury its dead," and shuffling the papers into their envelope, he slipped it under his pillow. Mallow was struck by his remark. It tended to confirm his long-entertained suspicions. "Mr. Brock," he asked, after a moment, "was there a secret in the life of the late Mr. Bellairs?" "Why should you think so?" said the vicar, nervously. "I have not forgotten about the sealed letter which forced Olive into marrying Carson. She asked you what its hint of evil meant. You told her to take no notice of it." "That was her best course," said Mr. Brock, still agitated. "So long as she married Angus, there was no need for her to trouble about the letter." "Then there is a secret?" insisted Mallow. Mr. Brock shifted uneasily. "Whose life is free from sin?" he said, in low tones. "Yes, there--is--a secret." "Had it to do with Olive's marriage?" "Yes; if she had refused Angus, there might have been trouble." "What kind of trouble?" "Don't ask me," said the vicar, with a shiver. "I must ask you. Olive guesses that there is a secret, and she wishes to know it." "She shall never know it from me," said the vicar, his face more pallid than ever. "I say let the dead past bury its dead." "You said that before when you read that letter. The secret is told in that enclosed document?" "Yes," said Brock, reluctantly. "Then Olive must read it--I must read it. We must know the truth." The vicar remained silent, and his brow wrinkled. "Who gains knowledge gains sorrow," he said, aphoristically. "It will do neither you nor Olive any good to learn the follies of a young man. However, I will read the document, and--if I can legitimately do so--I will send it to Olive." "Is the secret so very terrible, then?" "It is very terrible." "Is her father----" "Mr. Mallow," protested the vicar, wiping his wet forehead, "I have said all I intend to say, until I read this letter. If I can send it to Olive, it shall be sent. Please leave me. I--I have overtaxed my strength. Touch the bell, please, as you go out."