Hugh tried to put the bits of the puzzle together. His eyes fell upon the dead body at his feet. “Then—this man—they must have shot him in place of me.”
“Yes,” her dry throat gasped out.
McClintock stooped to feel the heart. It did not beat. He turned the body for a look at the face. Then, “God!” he cried.
The face that stared up at him with sightless eyes was the face of Ralph Dodson.
Vicky wailed in distress. “Oh, Hugh! I did it. I killed him! I brought him here.”
“How? What do you mean?”
She caught her hands together in a gesture of despair. “I sent Tommie for him—told him to come. I wanted him to save you.”
Hugh looked down at the face of the man who had hated him so bitterly. His face muscles twitched. He was greatly touched.
“He died in my place—to save me,” he said gently.
“No. I didn’t tell him what I wanted him for—only that I wanted him right away. And he came—and——” She broke down utterly. Innocently she had been the cause of the death of a man who loved her. Without thought she had lured him into the ambush his own brother had prepared for his enemy.