“I am aware. He told me so today.”
“Well, where is he now? And his enemy, Mr. Thurston?”
Dick still had an arm on her shoulder. She was gazing up into his face, her voice trembling with emotion as she breathlessly plied him with her questions.
“You have come too late, dearest,” Willoughby gently replied.
“Dead!” she exclaimed.
“Both are dead. They fought and rolled over the precipice. I have just found their bodies lying in the chaparral back there.”
Merle leaned forward, sobbing on his breast.
“Take me to him, take me to him,” she cried.
“No, Merle, my dear. It is better not. You must go home. Tia Teresa,” he added, addressing the duenna who had drawn near, “she must go home. Munson has gone to Tejon for help. There will be people arriving here very soon now.”
“He is really dead—Don Manuel?” asked Tia Teresa in a voice of awed sadness.