“It began five years ago. Miss Denison and her parents were staying at Pau. I was in the same hotel and I met them. I knew nothing then of their position and wealth and all that, for I had not been long in London. I loved her, and a great hope came into my life. One begins to weary after a while of toiling just to make money for oneself. For a few days all seemed changed, the whole world was new and bright to me. Suddenly I got an intimation from the father of the lady that my calls were no longer acceptable. I could not imagine the reason. I asked for an interview to explain matters, and he refused it. I left at once. I did not yet know how hard I should find it to give her up. It was only as I left the hotel that I learned that Peters, Peters whom I had not met since we quarrelled at Saigon, and of whom I last heard of the day that Longhurst died, was in the hotel and had called on my friends. Now I see clearly that I am wrong to draw inferences, but again, I ask, could I help inferring what I did?
“More than four years passed. I tried hard to create new interests for myself in artistic things, making all sorts of collections; and I developed an ambition to be a personage in London society. Then I saw Miss Denison again, and I knew that I had not forgotten her, and could not do so. I knew now what had happened, and so I absolutely insisted on an explanation. I had it out with the father. I satisfied him absolutely. In a few weeks’ time I was engaged. For the first time in my life I was happy. That was only a month before I came to Long Wilton. I must tell you that Peters had known the Denisons long, and that I knew Miss Denison had been fond of him, but we naturally did not talk of him much, and I did not know he was at Long Wilton. There, to my complete surprise, I saw Peters again. I would not avoid him, but I certainly did not wish to meet him. He, however, came up to me and spoke quite cordially. I do not know whether he had reflected and thought he had been hard on me, but he seemed to wish to make amends, and I at that time, just for a few short hours, had not got it in my heart to be other than friendly with any man.
“That evening I spent at his house. You, Mr. Callaghan, were there, and you must have seen that something happened. I at any rate saw that something I said had revived all Peters’ suspicions of me, and this time with the addition of a suspicion, which was true, that I had murdered Longhurst.
“Now, I ask you, if you have any lingering idea that that was why I killed him, how was it possible that he could ever prove me guilty? Have you any inkling of how he could have done it? I have not. Now what could induce me, on account of a mere idle suspicion on the part of a man who need be nothing to me, to run the risk amounting almost to certainty of being hanged for murdering him?
“But my conscience was active then, for a reason which any man who has loved may guess. I wanted to clear up all with Peters. I could not get him alone that evening, and I had to go next day. I returned the first day I could, bringing certain materials for clearing up the early transaction about which he had first suspected me. I was honestly determined to make a clean breast to him about Longhurst. You can hardly wonder that I meant to feel my way with him in this. I tried to get to close quarters with him. Mr. Callaghan saw enough to know how unsuccessful I was. I tried all the time, again and again, to draw Peters into intimate talk about our days in the East, but he always seemed to push me away. I determined very soon to obtain a letter from a friend, whom I will not name now, who knew how Longhurst had treated me, which I could show to Peters; so I wrote to him. But in the meantime relations with Peters grew harder and harder. I will not spin out excuses, but all his old animosity to me returned, and I began while I was waiting for that letter to feel once again the old rancour I had felt. This man had hurt me by suspecting me falsely, when, had he shown me confidence, he could have made a better man of me; he had spoilt my best chance of a career; he had poisoned my relations with Longhurst, and so brought about the very crime of which he was now lying in wait to accuse me; he had thwarted my love for four miserable years. On the top of all that came this letter” (he had held a letter in his hand all the time he was speaking), “and it shall speak for itself. But first one question. You may remember when you first saw me at Long Wilton. Well, I came really as it happened upon an errand for Miss Denison. Mrs. Nicholas, in the village, you may not know, had been her nurse. But that does not matter. Between my first visit and my return, do you happen to remember that a Mrs. Bulteel was staying at the hotel, and visited Mr. Peters of whom she was an old friend?”
Callaghan remembered that it was so.
“Mrs. Bulteel is, I have always supposed, the lady referred to in this letter, which reached me (will you note?) by the five o’clock post at Peters’ house, seven hours before I killed him.”
He
