I am not come here to play the part of your father-confessor. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. He is here by your side. He looked melancholy enough, it is true. She had a vision of policemen, reproving magistrates, a crowded court, public disgrace. Nobody can trust you. “It may be more difficult than you think,” she said. You cannot do a murder and expect that you will not be punished. Had you died, I should have fully obeyed the instructions on that envelope.
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