I walked over to him.

"That you killed Arthur White," I said.

He took a step towards me and I steadied myself for what might be
coming, but he changed his purpose, whatever it was, and turned away
with a laugh.

"You are mad," he said.

"I have spoken the truth," I answered sternly, "and you know it."

"Your proof!" he demanded.

"It is here," I said, and I held out to him Miles's report; "you may
have it; it will show you that you have no chance."

He seemed to deliberate and then slowly, hesitatingly, like a man making
up his mind to something, he reached out and took the report from me,
and in the act our hands met and at the touch his face flushed, but mine
grew pale and I wavered. Suddenly he extended his hand to me and I took
it.

"It is all right, Dick," he said, but my head was bent and I did not
answer, and when I looked up he was gone.

I never saw him again, but the next morning's mail brought me this
letter from him:

THE LAST LETTER

"You are right; your dogged persistence has at last accomplished its
purpose and my end, and to what good? White is dead, Winters is dead,
and I shall be within a few hours. The tragedy has worked itself out. I
do not know that I am sorry the game is played,--life's game it has
proven with me; neither do I reproach you for your part in it. I might
have lived a few years longer, but I am not sure that I wish to. My life
has lasted sixty years, and they have not been so free from trouble that
I should crave a few more waning ones. The world owes me little, and I
owe it less; let us separate while we are at peace.

"I should wish, if you can find it consistent with that importunate
conscience of yours, that you would leave my memory as it now abides
with my friends, pleasantly, likely, and not overburdensome. I would not
ask even this, but all I take with me, or leave behind, is the
good-will of a few men, and I would as soon as it were not too rudely
ended.

"To you I am a murderer: not a pleasant word for a man to use about
himself; but the truth, nevertheless. I have not always agreed with
other men, and I do not in this, but such would be their verdict and I
recognize it.

"I was the instrument that brought about the death of White, just as I
shall be the instrument of my own death, but it was the original act
conceived in the mind of White that started the train of events that led
successively to both consequences. Had he been different in temperame