Most beloved friend,
I am sorry I left you without finishing the tale of that dreadful day! I had written so much, my wrist hurt, and I heard gossiping in the hall, so I felt compelled to listen. I was worried that the servants had found remains of Stevenson’s blood on the staircase or the bannister, but they were merely gossiping about minor things, so I have come back in to finish the story for you.
Catherine let out a cry when she saw all the blood, but I must commend her for her composure. She did not swoon or panic but descended the stairs to get a better view.
“Is he dead?” she whispered.
“Most certainly,” I replied. I went to where the body lay and prodded it with my toe. Catherine gave a gasp.
“What shall we do?”
“It was an accident,” I said. “I was trying to stop him from go
