“Dead!” exclaimed the ranger, starting up and glancing at Silvia, who was weeping tears of sorrow. “Wayland Sanford dead?”
“Yes; he fell dead with the heart disease a few moments after you left that night. He was buried in the glade where he died.”
The ranger dropped into a chair. A silence that was broken only by Silvia’s sobs fell upon the place. Young Lyman watched the ranger’s face with deep interest, and saw that he was terribly agitated.
Presently Silvia raised her head from the table and asked:
“Mr. Rainbolt, what was written upon that paper which you gave father the night you met him?”
The ranger was much surprised by the question, but replied:
“I wrote that Rodger Rainbolt and Warren Walraven were one and the same person.”
“Then your name is not Rodger Rainbolt?” asked Silvia.
“No; my name is Warren Walraven.”
“And did you know my father? and did he know you?”