But he limited
himself to events, and did not touch on his mental battles, and David
saw and noted it. The real story, he knew, lay there, but it was not
time for it. After a while he raised himself in his bed.

"Call Lucy, Dick."

When she had come, a strangely younger Lucy, her withered cheeks flushed
with exercise and excitement, he said:

"Bring me the copy of the statement I made to Harrison Miller, Lucy."

She brought it, patted Dick's shoulder, and went away. David held out
the paper.

"Read it slowly, boy," he said. "It is my justification, and God
willing, it may help you. The letter is from my brother, Henry. Read
that, too."

Lucy, having got Dick's room in readiness, sat down in it to await his
coming. Downstairs, in the warming oven, was his supper. His bed, with
the best blankets, was turned down and ready. His dressing-gown and
slippers were in their old accustomed place. She drew a long breath.

Below, Doctor Reynolds came in quietly and stood listening. The house
was very still, and he decided that his news, which was after all
no news, could wait. He went into the office and got out a sheet of
note-paper, with his name at the top, and began his nightly letter to
Clare Rossiter.

"My darling," it commenced.

Above, David lay in his bed and Dick read the papers in his hand. And as
he read them David watched him. Not once, since Dick's entrance, had
he mentioned Elizabeth. David lay still and pondered that. There was
something wrong about it. This was Dick, their own Dick; no shadowy
ghost of the past, but Dick himself. True, an older Dick, strangely
haggard and with gray running in the brown of his hair, but still
Dick; the Dick whose eyes had lighted at the sight of a girl, who had
shamelessly persisted in holding her hand at that last dinner, who had
almost idolatrously loved her.

And he had not mentioned her name.

When he had finished the reading Dick sat for a moment with the papers
in his hand, thinking.

"I see," he said finally. "Of course, it's possible. Good God, if I
could only think it."

"It's the answer," David said stubbornly. "He was prowling around, and
fired through the window. Donaldson made the statement at the inquest
that some one had been seen on the place, and that he notified you that
night after dinner. He'd put guards around the place."

"It gives me a fighting chance, anyhow." Dick got up and threw back his
shoulders. "That's all I want. A chance to fight.