“Set his life upon a cast,
And must abide the hazard of the die.”
“Mr. Maxwell, you came to America to find the lost Captain Henry Carlingford, heir to the great Carlingford estates. You thought you were on a hopeless quest, did you not?” Warren nodded. It was noticeable that the man spoke in well-bred phrases, and had dropped his Southwestern accent. “You found the captain all right, but you never knew it. White Eagle was the man you wanted!”
There was a cry of astonishment from the listeners. Winona was in tears. Into Judah’s eyes there crept the old ferocious glitter as he said:
“And so you murdered him! I have suspected as much for two years.”
“No, no, Judah; I wasn’t in that. Titus did the killing.”
Now Warren lost sight of all personal interest in the case, seeing nothing but its legal aspect. He wrote rapidly, questioning the man closely.
“Why did Col. Titus commit this murder? How came you to know this?”
With great effort Thomson replied:
“Titus hated him because he stood between him and a vast fortune, and he was also jealous of his wife’s love for Henry Carlingford; he was her lover from childhood, and she loved him until death.”
“Then if you know this, I want you to tell me who killed young Lord George. Miss Venton was affianced to him. You can tell if you will, for Miss Venton married Colonel Titus.” Warren spoke sternly and solemnly.