He attempted no denial of what he was about to do. “How did you know? Did Rosario tell you?” he asked curtly.
“No—no! I found out—just by chance.”
“What chance?” He was plainly disconcerted that she had come to interfere, and as plainly eager to punish the person who had disclosed to her this 291 thing, which he would have liked to do quietly, without her knowledge.
“Never mind that. Nobody is to blame. Say I overheard a sentence. Thank God I did, and I am in time.”
There was no avoiding it now. He had to fight it out with her. “In time for what?” he wanted to know, his eyes narrowing to vicious pin points.
“To save him.”
“No—no! He must die,” cried the Mexican woman.
Melissy was amazed at her vehemence, at the passion of hate that trembled in the voice of the old woman.
MacQueen nodded. “It is out of my hands, you see. He has been condemned.”
“But why?”