man with an inexorable duty to perform, and no wish to stop until
it was finished.

But truth was stamped unmistakably in every word and every look.

"Only the desk light was turned on, but that gave light enough for me to
see my brother sitting dead in his chair. I satisfied myself that he
was really dead, and then, in a sort of daze, I looked about the room.
Though I felt benumbed and half unconscious, physically, my thoughts
worked rapidly. On the desk before him I saw his will."

An irrepressible exclamation from Mr. Randolph was the only sound that
greeted this astonishing statement.

"Yes," and Mr. Crawford took a document from the same drawer whence he
had taken the pistol; "there is Joseph Crawford's will, leaving all his
property to Florence Lloyd."

Mechanically, Mr. Randolph took the paper his client passed to him, and,
after a glance at it, laid it on the table in front of him.

"That was my crime," said Philip Crawford solemnly, "and I thank God
that I can confess it and make restitution. I must have been suddenly
possessed of a devil of greed, for the moment I saw that will, I knew
that if I took it away the property would be mine, and I would then run
no danger of being ruined by my stock speculations. I had a dim feeling
that I should eventually give all, or a large part, of the fortune to
Florence, but at the moment I was obsessed by evil, and I--I stole my
brother's will."

It was an honest confession of an awful crime. But under the spell
of that strong, low voice, and the upright bearing of that impressive
figure, we could not, at the moment, condemn; we could only listen and
wait.

"Then," the speaker proceeded, "I was seized with the terrific,
unreasoning fear that I dare say always besets a malefactor. I had but
one thought, to get away, and leave the murder to be discovered by some
one else. In a sort of subconscious effort at caution, I took my pistol,
lest it prove incriminating evidence against me, but in my mad frenzy of
fear, I gave no thought to the gold bag or the newspaper. I came home,
secreted the will and the revolver, and ever since I have had no doubts
as to the existence of a hell. A thousand times I have been on the point
of making this confession, and even had it not been brought about as it
has, I must have given way soon. No mortal could stand out long under
the pressure of remorse and regret that has been on me this past week.
Now, gentlemen, I have told you all. The