"That shot was meant for me, William Tilghman."
"Perhaps so."
"It was the shot of a hired murderer, who mistook Wonnell's unusual hats for mine, that was not well described to him, or the description of which his drunken and excited memory did not retain."
"Mr. Milburn, please save Vesta this suspicion."
"Oh! that pure soul could not know it," Milburn continued, with a moment's gentleness; "but some of her proud kin, to whom I am less than a dog, did send the assassin. I think I guess the man."
"Do not rush to a conclusion! Remember, Vesta has suffered so much for others' errors."
"He was killed in this room, where Wonnell never came before. The wound shows the shot to have come from a point below, where nothing but Wonnell's hat, and not his features, could be seen. The mistake of bell-crown for steeple-top shows that it was a stranger's job: the poor fool died for me. Now where did the bungler who killed me by proxy come from?"
"I will be frank with you, sir. Joe Johnson, the kidnapper, was also here: Mary says so. To save Virgie from him, I helped her away."
"Now," said Milburn, "what enemy of mine delegated the kidnapper to procure a murderer?"
He waited a moment without response, and answered, in a low tone of voice, his own question: