“There,” cried Nick, whirling and pointing to the form of John Lansing standing in the door, “there stands your dead sister’s son, the boy you robbed, the boy you thought murdered!”
The revolver trembled in Montgomery’s hand.
He dropped it, sprang up and stood looking at his nephew as though confronted by a specter.
Suddenly he threw up his hand and fell backward into his seat.
“John!” he groaned; “John!”
Nick sprang to his side.
“Where were you to meet this man Ramsay or Yasmar to-night?” cried Nick. “I knew that you were to meet him and to take Bingham and Cooper with you. Where was it? Tell me, quick!”
Montgomery looked into Nick’s face with frenzied eyes.
It seemed hard for him to comprehend anything.
Nick repeated the question.