"I have been for nearly two years in London seeking Mary Mallinson, and always seeking her in vain," he said. "The first and only news I have had of her I found in the newspaper report of the trial yesterday."
He still spoke calmly, but there was something in the look of his eyes which showed me that he was suffering in spirit. A sudden nervousness overcame me, and I was obliged to sit down.
"You knew Mary Mallinson, sir?" I asked, as quietly as I could.
"I am her brother."
I clasped my hands and hid my face in despair. Oh, the bitterness of heart with which I heard him say those simple words!
"You were very kind to her," said the calm, tearless man. "In her name and for her sake, I thank you."
"Oh, sir," I said, "why did you never write to her when you were in foreign parts?"
"I wrote often," he answered; "but each of my letters contained a remittance of money. Did Mary tell you she had a stepmother? If she did, you may guess why none of my letters were allowed to reach her. I now know that this woman robbed my sister. Has she lied in telling me that she was never informed of Mary's place of abode?"
I remembered that Mary had never communicated with her stepmother after the separation, and could therefore assure him that the woman had spoken the truth.
He paused for a moment after that, and sighed. Then he took out a pocket-book, and said: "I have already arranged for the payment of any legal expenses that may have been incurred by the trial, but I have still to reimburse you for the funeral charges which you so generously defrayed. Excuse my speaking bluntly on this subject; I am accustomed to look on all matters where money is concerned purely as matters of business."
I saw that he was taking several bank-notes out of the pocket-book, and stopped him.
"I will gratefully receive back the little money I actually paid, sir, because I am not well off, and it would be an ungracious act of pride in me to refuse it from you," I said; "but I see you handling bank-notes, any one of which is far beyond the amount you have to repay me. Pray put them back, sir. What I did for your poor lost sister I did from my love and fondness for her. You have thanked me for that, and your thanks are all I can receive."