"You!" Moya cried. Kilmeny bowed. "The bad penny turned up again, Miss Dwight." Scorn of him flashed in her dark eyes. She stood straight and rigid, but in spite of herself she breathed fast. "You've forgotten your promise. You've lost faith again," he charged. His impudence stirred contemptuous anger. "I know you now, sir," she told him with fine contempt. "And you promised to believe in me." He said it quietly, with just a touch of bitterness in the reproach of his wistful voice. The first hint of startled doubt came into her eyes. It was as if he had breathed into a marble statue the pulse of life. He had known her vivid as a thrush in song, a dainty creature of fire and dew. She stood now poised as it were on the edge of hope. "How could I believe when I found your guilt on you? What right have you to ask it?" "So you found the paper in the hat, did you?" "Yes." "Certain about my guilt this time, are you?" He said it almost with a sneer, but nothing could crush the resurgent glow in her heart. Against the perilous and emotional climax which was growing on her she set her will in vain. Why was it that the mere presence of this man called to her so potently and shook her confidence in his guilt? "We found the money," she explained, thinking to confound him. "I guessed that. It was gone when I went to look for it this morning. I've come for it now." His assurance amazed her. "Come for it!" she repeated. "It isn't here." "No, I didn't expect to find it in your purse. But it is at the Lodge." "No." "Where, then?" "I shan't tell you. The money will be returned to those from whom it was stolen." He looked at her with hard, narrowed eyes. "It will be returned, will it? When?" "To-day. Within a few hours." "Who is going to return it?" Moya had it on the tip of her tongue to tell, but pulled up in time. "I think we'll not go into that." The American looked at his watch. The hands showed the hour to be 2:30. If the money was to be returned that day someone must already be on the way with it. He had seen his cousin, Captain Kilmeny, take the Gunnison road in a trap not half an hour earlier. "So the captain is taking it back to-day?" he mused aloud, wary eyes on Moya's face. A startled expression leaped to her countenance. She had told more than she had intended. "I didn't say so." "I say so." Beneath his steady gaze her lashes fell. He nodded, sure that he had guessed correctly. "I intended to have a talk with you and straighten out some things," he went on. "But I find I haven't time now. We'll postpone it till to-morrow. I'll meet you here at ten o'clock in the morning." "No," she told him. The wave of hope had ebbed in her. Given the opportunity to explain the evidence against him, he had cared more to find out what they were doing with the stolen money. He had no time to save his good name. "Ten in the morning. Remember. It's important. I want to see you alone. If I'm not on time wait for me."