“Suspect!” said Josephine, haughtily, albeit her proud heart was beating quickly. “I SUSPECT nothing. I command you to tell me what you KNOW.” Miguel turned with a rapid gesture and closed the door. Then, drawing her away from the window, he said in a hurried whisper,-- “I know that that man has not the name of Baxter! I know that he has the name of Randolph, a young gambler, who have won a large sum at Sacramento, and, fearing to be robbed by those he won of, have walk to himself through the road in disguise of a miner. I know that your brother Esteban have decoyed him here, and have fallen on him.” “Stop!” said the young girl, her eyes, which had been fixed with the agony of conviction, suddenly flashing with the energy of despair. “And you call yourself the servant of my uncle, and dare say this of his nephew?” “Yes, senora,” broke out the old man, passionately. “It is because I am the servant of your uncle that I, and I ALONE, dare say it to you! It is because I perjured my soul, and have perjured my soul to deny it elsewhere, that I now dare to say it! It is because I, your servant, knew it from one of my countrymen, who was of the gang,--because I, Miguel, knew that your brother was not far away that night, and because I, whom you would dismiss, have picked up this pocket-book of Randolph's and your brother's ring which he have dropped, and I have found beneath the body of the man you sent me to fetch.” He drew a packet from his bosom, and tossed it on the desk before her. “And why have you not told me this before?” said Josephine, passionately. Miguel shrugged his shoulders. “What good? Possibly this dog Randolph would die. Possibly he would live--as a lunatic. Possibly would happen what has happened! The senora is beautiful. The American has eyes. If the Dona Josephine's beauty shall finish what the silly Don Esteban's arm have begun--what matter?” “Stop!” cried Josephine, pressing her hands across her shuddering eyes. Then, uncovering her white and set face, she said rapidly, “Saddle my horse and your own at once. Then take your choice! Come with me and repeat all that you have said in the presence of that man, or leave this ranch forever. For if I live I shall go to him tonight, and tell the whole story.” The old man cast a single glance at his mistress, shrugged his shoulders, and, without a word, left the room. But in ten minutes they were on their way to the county town. Day was breaking over the distant Burnt Ridge--a faint, ghostly level, like a funeral pall, in the dim horizon--as they drew up before the gaunt, white-painted pile of the hospital building. Josephine uttered a cry. Dr. Duchesne's buggy was before the door. On its very threshold they met the doctor, dark and irritated. “Then you heard the news?” he said, quickly. Josephine turned her white face to the doctor's. “What news?” she asked, in a voice that seemed strangely deep and resonant.