"And Mr. Cameron knew that?" asked Nestor, his old suspicions, voiced to Fremont at the time they talked of Mother Scanlon, recurring to his mind.
"Of course he knew," was the reply. "With Cameron out of the way, and the boy ignorant of his parentage, I would have been safe. Still, I thought best to put Fremont out of my way also. Then there could have been no danger, for I was the next heir."
"I understand!" Nestor said, greatly shocked at the revelation of the cold-blooded murder plot. "You had seen Fremont about the building, and yet you pretended not to know him after your men had taken him prisoner?"
"I knew him," was the faint reply. "My men captured the boy I described to them. I preferred that my men should think I had captured a marplot who had ruined their plans. Then they would have thought nothing of my killing him. But Ren Downs interfered."
"That is the man who lies dead out there?"
Another nod from the injured man, now almost too weak to talk.
"It was your intention to kill Fremont? You wanted him to try to escape and have him shot down by another?"
"Yes, that was my plan. And Scoby and Felix if necessary. I came here for that."
"Great Scott!" whispered Frank. "I reckon this chap got just what was coming to him! Only he ought to be hanged!"
"Hush!" whispered Nestor. "Look!"