Richards,
sitting there with his chair tilted back against the wall and his chin
between his knees, heard something fall. It was his wife. He sprang to
her side, but she cried out:
"Leave me alone, I am too happy. Read the letter--read it!"
He did. He devoured it, his brain reeling. The letter was from a
distant State, and it said:
"I am a stranger to you, but no matter: I have something to tell. I
have just arrived home from Mexico, and learned about that episode. Of
course you do not know who made that remark, but I know, and I am the
only person living who does know. It was GOODSON. I knew him well,
many years ago. I passed through your village that very night, and
was his guest till the midnight train came along. I overheard him
make that remark to the stranger in the dark--it was in Hale Alley. He
and I talked of it the rest of the way home, and while smoking in his
house. He mentioned many of your villagers in the course of his
talk--most of them in a very uncomplimentary way, but two or three
favourably: among these latter yourself. I say 'favourably'--nothing
stronger.
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