His splendid mind no
longer ruled his splendid body. His body itself, relaxing, sank forward,
his head at one side, his hand dropping limp. A smile drew down the
corner of his mouth--a smile horrible in its pathos; mocking, and yet
beseeching.
* * * * *
At last I rubbed the blood from my own face and stooped to read what he
had written. Then I thanked God that he was dead, knowing how impossible
it would have been elsewise for me to stay my hand. These were the
words:
"I, Gordon Orme, dying July 21, 1861, confess that I killed John
Cowles, Senior, in the month of April, 1860, at the road near
Wallingford. I wanted the horse, but had to kill Cowles. Later took
the money. I was a secret agent, detailed for work among U.S. Army
men.
"I, Gordon Orme, having seduced Grace Sheraton, asked John Cowles
to marry her to cover up that act.
"I, Gordon Orme, appoint John Cowles my executor. I ask him to
fulfill last request. I give him what property I have on my person
for his own. Further, I say not; and being long ago held as dead, I
make no bequests as to other property whatsoever.
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