I cried; "you're a young man yet."

He shook his head at this, but made no answer in words, and left me
with some abruptness and no further speech.

Now that the confession was in my hands I knew not what course to
pursue, and fell to wondering how much reviewing it might cause of the
testimony which had cleared Danvers Carmichael, and what possible
trouble from that might come home to Nancy's door. It was but nine
o'clock; a thought seized me before I reached the house, and I sent
MacColl to Arran Towers with a request that Mr. Danvers come to me
immediately. It had been over a year since he had crossed my threshold,
and although he was back in the country above three months, with
Nancy's conduct still unexplained, friendly intercourse between the
houses was impossible.

"There's a welcome been waiting for you o'er long," I said to him as he
entered the room, and here the fine directness of him answered me:

"I've never had for you a thought not of the kindest; but your
daughter's conduct to me; Lord Stair, has rendered----" and before he
finished I put out my hand to stay him.

"I wouldn't go on if I were you, Danvers! I wouldn't say that which I
might come to regret. Ye haven't known all, and ye may have misjudged,"
and here I began at the other end.

"The one who killed the Duke of Borthwicke has confessed the deed. I
have the confession here!" I said, touching the paper I had from Hugh
Pitcairn as it lay on the table.

"The one who killed the duke!" Danvers cried, in amazement. "The man
confessed himself a suicide."

"Danvers," I went on, "I am afraid that letter was not written by the
duke, not _all_ written by the duke. It was on separate sheets, if you
remember, the first one naturally without signature. It is this part
which I believe to have been partly written by another."

If ever there was a mystified face it was Danvers's as he stood trying
to make something of my words.

"Let me tell you the whole story," I went on, "a bit at a time, and
when I bungle it in the telling stop me till ye get it clear, for the
future between us is just hanging on the tale I tell.

"The night of the murder I saw ye, Danvers, going back to Stair,
bareheaded, in the snow, upon what errand I knew not; and when Nancy
and I went down the steps of the little porch, she picked up something
and hid it in the lace of her cloak; but in her room that night, when
she fainted, I saw it was your cap, all of which she held sile