A week went by without news until the morning of July 15, when a letter arrived for his wife. It read:
My Own Darling Wife:
Dare I still call you so? Can you ever forgive your wretched, miserable, erring, wicked husband for the great wrong he has done you? If you can, your charity exceeds that of angels.
You know, I presume as much concerning my trouble as I do myself. I know it happened, and I hardly know how. The association’s money was mixed with mine, and, as it was received at all times and in all places, was often forgotten or memorandums mislaid, and before I knew it I was a defaulter for, I supposed, $300 to $500. Then I grew desperate, trying in every way to redeem myself, (well, you know that business was next to nothing, and hoping and expecting by business and collections of debts owing me to come out all right.
The result I need not state. I dared not post my books, for exposure was then inevitable. So they were left.
The most cowardly act of my life I believe was leaving you the way I did. Yet when I left home in the morning I did not dream of it. It was an impulse of the moment, and I followed it. My intention was to commit suicide, and rid you and the world of such a worthless man, but I could not find it in my heart to commit the deed at home. I could not, so I left. Where I have been, Heaven knows – I do not! I know I have ridden and walked in Indiana, Ohio, Illinois, Missouri, and Iowa, and I also know I have not eaten enough since I left for one meal, or slept enough for one night’s sleep. My body and mind have both been in a grand tumult, and this is the first time for days I have been able to recall your name and address.
But one thing today restrains me from death by my own hand. I feel that I would as soon suffer years of terrible imprisonment as to leave this world without another sight of my darling wife and my sweet children. How I have longed to see you! How I think of you every moment – dream of you every sleeping hour.
When I left I put in the bureau drawer for you $100 and took $32 myself. I have now about $1.50 left. What I shall do I know not, but I shall try to get to Chicago some way, and then near enough to Dayton to see you and the darlings once more.
Write to me at Chicago. Get someone to mail the letter in a letter-box, and tell me everything said and done. And above all things, tell me this, can you ever forgive me? Had I this moment offered my choice between all wealth and riches, and on the other hand those words from you, “Tom, I forgive.” would gladly throw all away and take the words from you. Kiss the dear boys and tell them their wicked and unworthy father loves them and their mamma for better than his life.
For Heaven’s sake, let no one know I have written from here. I can bear death far easier than the disgrace of imprisonment – the disgrace to not only me, but to you and the babies.
(Here is a sudden interruption amid a heavy mark that looks as if a capital T was intended.)
I must have fainted, as I find myself on the floor and prostrated. I cannot write any more. Goodbye. God bless you, and shower His best blessings on you as you so richly deserve, for you have been everything good and noble. Farewell!
Your most devoted lover,
Tom
The Building Association looked into the books and discovered that no money was missing and that nobody had been swindled or robbed of funds by Tom. Tom had been ill and in his state he must have mixed his personal finances with that of the building association. His record keeping had mistakes, which led Tom to believe he was in default of $300-$500. He kept the secret to himself for weeks, ashamed and afraid. When he couldn’t take it any longer, he left home intending to kill himself.
The officials of the Building Association say they had no reason to doubt him, they had the utmost confidence in his integrity. The only shame, they said, was that Tom had not put the same trust in his friends as he desired them to place in him. Had he done so, there would have been no reason to leave home. If Tom had owed any money to fix his mistakes, his friends would have gladly helped him.
After newspapers published articles releasing the details of Tom’s suicide, a friend of his wrote to the Wisconsin State Journal sharing his thoughts:
EDITORS STATE JOURNAL:
He was my most intimate and cherished friend and his wretched death tempts me almost to curse the fate that withheld the knowledge of his whereabouts, that I might have saved his life by speeding to him.
Respectfully,
Charles E Clark
Business Manager, Dayton Journal
Dayton Unknown 
Such a shame