Pesca hesitated. ‘A man brought me some information,’ he said. ‘I had to see the body, and send a report about it.’
‘A man,’ I said. ‘What kind of man?’
‘A stranger,’ said Pesca. ‘I didn’t know him. A man with a scar on his left cheek.’ He saw the understanding in my face, and held up his hand. ‘No more questions, my friend. Please!’
We never spoke about it again, but I think Pesca was telling me that the Brotherhood had taked their revenge. And so Count Fosco, that extraordinary, evil man, passed from this world.
. . .
The following year our first child was born – a son. Six months later my newspaper sent me to Ireland and, when I returned, I found a note from my wife saying and Marian and little Walter had gone to Limmeridge House. She begged me to follow as soon as possible. Very surprised, I caught the next train. When I got there, Marian and Laura told me MrFairlie was dead and that MrKyrle had advised them to go to Limmeridge House.
Laura came close to me and I half realized some great change was happening in our lives.
‘Do you know who this is, Walter?’ Marian asked, holding up my little son, with tears of happiness in her eyes. ‘This is the boy who will one day inherit Limmeridge House.’
So she spoke. In writing those last words, I have written everything. Marian was the good friend of our lives – let Marian end our story.