“Great heavens!” he gasped, wiping cold perspiration from his brow. “Your story throws a great light upon the matter which I have in hand, Mr. Harmon.”
“The deuce you say!” gasped the captain of the Vigilantes.
“It is the truth,” cried Frank. “I think I can tell you the true fate of Ralph Rodman, and you will agree that Cliff is the projector of one of the most awful double plots of crime that human being could be capable of.”
The Vigilantes all gathered around the young inventor, agog with interest.
“Ye don’t mean it?” gasped Harmon, with amazement. “Ye’re huntin’ Cliff then ther same as we are?”
“Yes.”
“What fer?”
“To force a confession or explanation from him of a mysterious murder of which his own uncle, James Travers, of New York, has been adjuged guilty and who is now in prison awaiting his sentence of hanging about a year from now.
“Oh, this villain is a deep one. But I have told you of that mysterious murder and, as Heaven is my judge, I believe the victim of that murder which was purposely thrown upon Travers was Rodman. You see Cliff’s object in throwing the murder upon Travers was to see him hang and thus inherit his vast wealth.”
For a moment after this statement silence reigned.