He unlocked the desk, and found a quire of letter-paper. He dipped a
pen in ink, tried it, and then began to write.
He wrote, "_London, July 20th_," and "_My Dear Boyd_;" and having
written thus much, he came to a stop. The easiest part of the letter
was finished.
Captain Jernam sat with his elbows resting on the table, looking
straight before him, in pure absence of mind. As he did so, his eyes
were caught suddenly by an object lying amongst the pens and pencils in
the tray before him.
That object was a bent gold coin.
His face grew pale as he snatched up the coin, and examined it closely.
It was a small Brazilian coin, bent and worn, and on one side of it was
scratched the initial "_G_."
That small battered coin was very familiar to George Jernam's gaze, and
it was scarcely strange if the warm life-blood ebbed from his cheeks,
and left them ashy pale.
The coin was a keepsake which he had given to his murdered brother,
Valentine, on the eve of their last parting.
And he found it here--here, in Joseph Duncombe's desk!
For some moments he sat aghast, motionless, powerless even to think. He
could not realize the full weight of this strange discovery. He could
only remember the warm breath of the tropical night on which he and his
brother had bidden each other farewell--the fierce light of the
tropical stars beneath which they had stood when they parted.
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