The last faint beat of the retreating hoofs died away. An awkward constraint settled upon the party left at the Lodge. It was impossible to discuss the situation openly, yet it was embarrassing to ignore the subject in the thoughts of all. After a decent interval they began to drop away, one by one, from the group. India followed Moya, and found that young woman in her room. "What are you hiding?" Miss Kilmeny asked quickly. Moya produced from her hatbox a gray sombrero and put it on the table. "I didn't know it was you--thought it might be Lady Jim," she explained. "Why wasn't I to tell Jack Kilmeny that he had taken Ned's hat by mistake?" India wanted to know. "Because it wasn't by mistake." "Not by mistake! What would he want with another man's hat?" "I'm not sure about that. Perhaps he _didn't want his own_. You see, I had started myself to tell him about the mistake, but his eyes asked me plain as words not to speak." "But why--why?" India frowned at the hat, her active brain busy. "It would be absurd for him to want Ned's hat. He must have had some reason, though." "Don't they search prisoners before they lock them up?" Moya asked abruptly. India shook her head. "I don't know. Do they?" "Of course they do." Moya's eyes began to shine. "Now suppose there is something about that hat he didn't want them to see." "How do you mean?" India picked up the hat and turned it round slowly. "It's worn and a bit disreputable, but he wouldn't care for that." Moya found a pair of scissors in her work basket. With these she ripped off the outer ribbon. This told her nothing. Next she examined the inside. Under the sweat pad was a folded slip of paper. She waved it in excitement. "What did I tell you?" "But--if he is innocent--what could there be he wanted to hide?" "I don't know." Moya unfolded the paper enough to see that there was writing in it. "Do you think we ought to read this?" "I don't know," India repeated in her turn. "Perhaps it may be a message to you." Moya's face lighted. "Of course that's it. He wanted to tell us something when the rest were not there, so he used this method." Three cramped lines were penciled on the torn fragment of paper. At wharf above camp. Twelve steps below big rock. In gunny sack three yards from shore. Two pairs of puzzled eyes looked into each other. "What can it mean?" India asked. "I don't know, unless----" "Unless what?" "Can it be a direction for finding something?" "But what? And why should it be hidden in his hat? Besides, he would have no chance to put it in there after he was captured." "Then perhaps it isn't a message to me at all." "That's what we must find out. 'At wharf above camp.' That probably means his fishing camp." "What are you going to do, India?" "I'm going to get Ned to help me find that gunny sack." Moya found herself trembling. She did not know why. It was not doubt of her reckless friend, but none the less she was in a panic.