"
"I fear that you will never discover more than you have done from me,"
was the quiet reply. "Your father had been living for years in profound
solitude when I found him. Frankly, I considered from the first that
his mind was unhinged. Therein I fancy lies the whole explanation of
his silence and his voluntary disappearance. I am assuming, of course,
that there was nothing in England to make his absence desirable."
"There was nothing," Brooks declared with conviction. "That I can
personally vouch for. His life as a police-court missionary was the
life of a militant martyr's, the life of a saint. The urgent advice of
his physicians alone led him to embark upon that voyage; I see now that
it was a mistake. He left before he had sufficiently recovered to be
safely trusted alone. By the bye," Brooks continued, after a moment's
hesitation, "you have not told me your name, whom I have to thank for
this kindness. Your letters from Canada were not signed."
There was a short silence. From outside came the sound of the pawing
of horses' feet and the jingling of harness.
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