You are a clever man, Mr. Gillingham.
"I had Mark's clothes on my hands. I might have left them in the
passage, but the secret of the passage was now out. Miss Norris
knew it. That was the weak point of my plan, perhaps, that Miss
Norris had to know it. So I hid them in the pond, the Inspector
having obligingly dragged it for me first. A couple of keys
joined them, but I kept the revolver. Fortunate, wasn't it, Mr.
Gillingham?
"I don't think that there is any more to tell you. This is a
long letter, but then it is the last which I shall write. There
was a time when I hoped that there might be a happy future for
me, not at the Red House, not alone. Perhaps it was never more
than an idle day-dream, for I am no more worthy of her than Mark
was. But I could have made her happy, Mr. Gillingham. God, how
I would have worked to make her happy! But now that is
impossible. To offer her the hand of a murderer would be as bad
as to offer her the hand of a drunkard. And Mark died for that.
I saw her this morning. She was very sweet.
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