I went to old Benjamin's little villa, in the by-ways of St.John's Wood.
As soon as he had got over the first surprise of seeing me, he noticed that I looked pale and care-worn.

I confessed at once that I was in trouble.

We sat down together by the bright fireside in his little library (Benjamin, as far as his means would allow, was a great collector of books), and there I told my old friend, frankly and truly, all that I have told here.
He was too distressed to say much.

He fervently pressed my hand; he fervently thanked God that my father had not lived to hear what he had heard.

Then, after a pause, he repeated my mother-in-law's name to himself in a doubting, questioning tone.