In the morning Jane Morton prepared to meet Mrs. Brenton, and make her
confession. She called at the Brenton residence, but found it closed,
as it had been ever since the tragedy of Christmas morning. It took her
some time to discover the whereabouts of Mrs. Brenton, who, since the
murder, had resided with a friend except while under arrest.
For a moment Mrs. Brenton did not recognize the thin and pale woman who
stood before her in a state of such extreme nervous agitation, that it
seemed as if at any moment she might break down and cry.
"I don't suppose you'll remember me, ma'am," began the girl, "but I
worked for you two weeks before--before----"
"Oh yes," said Mrs. Brenton, "I remember you now. Have you been ill? You
look quite worn and pale, and very different from what you did the last
time I saw you."
"Yes," said the girl, "I believe I have been ill.".
"You _believe_; aren't you sure?"
"I have been very ill in mind, and troubled, and that is the reason I
look so badly,--Oh, Mrs. Brenton, I wanted to tell you of something that
has been weighing on my mind ever since that awful day! I know you can
never forgive me, but I must tell it to you, or I shall go crazy."
"Sit down, sit down," said the lady, kindly; "you know what trouble I
have been in myself. I am sure that I am more able to sympathize now
with one who is in trouble than ever I was before."
"Yes, ma'am; but you were innocent, and I am guilty. That makes all the
difference in the world."
"Guilty!" cried Mrs. Brenton, a strange fear coming over her as she
stared at the girl; "guilty of _what_?"
"Oh, madam, let me tell you all about it. There is, of course, no
excuse; but I'll begin at the beginning. You remember a while before
Christmas that John came to see me one night, and we sat up very late in
the kitchen, and your husband came down quietly, and when we heard him
coming we put out the light and just as John was trying to get away,
your husband shot twice at him, and hit him the second time?"
"Oh yes," said Mrs. Brenton, "I remember that very well. I had forgotten
about it in my own trouble; but I know that my husband intended to do
something for the young man. I hope he was not seriously hurt?"
[Illustration: "Guilty! Guilty of what?"]
"No, ma'am; he is able to be about again now as well as ever, and is not
even lame, which we expected he would be. But at the time I thought he
was going to be lame all the rest of his life, and perhaps that is the
reason I did what I did. When everything was in confusion in the house,
and it was certain that we would all have to leave, I did a very wicked
thing. I went to your room, and I stole some of your rings, and some
money that was there, as well as a lot of other things that were in the
room. It seemed to me then, although, of course, I know now how wicked
it was, that you owed John something for what he had gone through, and
I thought that he was to be lame, and that you would never miss the
things; but, oh! madam, I have not slept a night since I took them. I
have been afraid of the police and afraid of being found out. I have
pawned nothing, and they are all just as I took them, and I have brought
them back here to you, with every penny of the money. I know you can
never forgive me, but I am willing now to be given up to the police,
and I feel better in my mind than I have done ever since I took
the things."
"My poor child!" said Mrs. Brenton, sympathetically, "was that _all_?"
"All?" cried the girl. "Yes, I have brought everything back."
"Oh, I don't mean that, but I am sorry you have been worried over
anything so trivial. I can see how at such a time, and feeling that you
had been wronged, a temptation to take the things came to you. But I
hope you will not trouble any more about the matter. I will see that
John is compensated for all the injury he received, as far as it is
possible for money to compensate him. I hope you will keep the money.
The other things, of course, I shall take back, and I am glad you came
to tell me of it before telling any one else. I think, perhaps, it is
better never to say anything to anybody about this. People might not
understand just what temptation you were put to, and they would not know
the circumstances of the case, because nobody knows, I think, that John
was hurt. Now, my dear girl, do not cry. It is all right. Of course you
never will touch anything again that does not belong to you, and the
suffering you have gone through has more than made up for all the wrong
you have done. I am sure that I forgive you quite freely for it, and I
think it was very noble of you to come and tell me about it."
Mrs. Brenton took the package from the hands of the weeping girl, and
opened it. She found everything there, as the girl had said. She took
the money and offered it to Jane Morton. The girl shook her head.
"No," she cried, "I cannot touch it. I cannot, indeed. It has been
enough misery to me already."
"Very well," said Mrs. Brenton. "I would like very much to see John.
Will you bring him to me?"
The girl looked at her with startled eyes.
"You will not tell him?" she said.
"No indeed, I shall tell him nothing. But I want to do what I can for
him as I said. I suppose you are engaged to be married?"
"Yes," answered the girl; "but if he knew of this he never, never would
marry me."
"If he did not," said Mrs. Brenton, "he would not be worthy of you. But
he shall know nothing about it. You will promise to come here and see me
with him, will you not?"
"Yes, madam," said the girl.
"Then good-bye, until I see you again."
Mrs. Brenton sat for a long time thinking over this confession. It took
her some time to recover her usual self-possession, because for a moment
she had thought the girl was going to confess that she committed murder.
In comparison with that awful crime, the theft seemed so trivial that
Mrs. Brenton almost smiled when she thought of the girl's distress.
* * * * *
"Well," said John Speed to Mr. Brenton, "if that doesn't beat the Old
Harry. Now I, for one, am very glad of it, if we come to the real truth
of the matter."
"I am glad also," said Brenton, "that the girl is not guilty, although I
must say things looked decidedly against her."
"I will tell you why I am glad," said Speed. "I am glad because it
will take some of the superfluous conceit out of that French detective
Lecocq. He was so awfully sure of himself. He couldn't possibly be
mistaken. Now, think of the mistakes that man must have made while he
was on earth, and had the power which was given into his hands in Paris.
After all, Stratton is on the right track, and he will yet land your
friend Roland in prison. Let us go and find Lecocq. This is too good to
keep."
"My dear sir," said Brenton, "you seem to be more elated because of your
friend Stratton than for any other reason. Don't you want the matter
ferreted out at all?"
"Why, certainly I do; but I don't want it ferreted out by bringing an
innocent person into trouble."
"And may not Stephen Roland be an innocent person?"
"Oh, I suppose so; but I do not think he is."
"Why do you not think so?"
"Well, if you want the real reason, simply because George Stratton
thinks he isn't. I pin my faith to Stratton."
"I think you overrate your friend Stratton."
"Overrate him, sir? That is impossible. I love him so well that I hope
he will solve this mystery himself, unaided and alone, and that in going
back to Chicago he will be smashed to pieces in a railway accident, so
that we can have him here to congratulate him."