"This very pretty conspiracy to involve the United States in a war
with Mexico," Nestor continued, "was unwittingly foiled by a
desperate crime--perhaps committed by yourself."
CHAPTER XV.
ACCUSING EACH OTHER.
Don Miguel stopped in his nervous pacing of the small space
in front of the tents and thrust his passion-swept face to
within a foot of that of the speaker.
"A desperate crime!" he repeated. "Do you have the temerity
to mention my name in connection with crime?"
"On the night of your visit to Mr. Cameron," Nestor went on,
coolly, "you dined at one of the famous lobster palaces on
Times Square. Early in the evening, let us say not far
from nine o'clock, you left the restaurant and took a cab
for the Cameron building. You spoke both French and Spanish
to the driver, as well as English, and tipped him liberally,
paying the charge in gold."
Don Miguel swung away again, his face expressive of a desire to do murder.
"You found Mr. Cameron in his office," Nestor continued, "busy
with the papers of the Tolford estate. There are only two
persons who know what took place at that interview, Mr. Cameron
and yourself, but we are certain that the purpose of it was to
urge Mr. Cameron to complete the contract for munitions of war
which was under discussion. It is also quite likely that,
failing in this, you sought the return of the compromising
letters which you had written to him."
The enraged diplomat made a desperate dash for the freedom of
the hills, such a short distance away, but was brought back by
a guard--brought back almost frenzied with the hate of the boy
that possessed him.
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