"I don't care," Joyce answered petulantly. "He's so hard. Why can't he be nice about this? Why can't he understand--instead of sneering at me? It's a good deal harder for me than for him. Think of fifty years of Dobyans Verinder." "Would you care to write Mr. Kilmeny a note? I'll take it to him if you like," Moya suggested gently. Joyce considered. "No, I couldn't put it on paper. But--you might tell him." "I don't think I could quite do that." "If it came up right; just show him how I'm placed." "Perhaps. Shall I tell him that you asked me to warn him?" Joyce nodded, eyes shining. She was a young woman capable of changing her mind in the snap of a finger. Dainty and exquisite as apple blossoms, she was like a young plant with delicate tendrils forever reaching out. Love she must have and ever more of it. To admiration she was sensitive in every fiber. Whenever she thought of Jack Kilmeny's contempt tears scorched her eyes. It was like Moya that she carried her warning immediately and directly. Kilmeny was not easy to find. He had been seen entering the office of a lawyer, but had left before she arrived. The attorney understood Jack to say that he was going to an assayer's office, and the young woman learned there that he had not been seen yet by the assayer. From here she walked toward his boarding house, thinking that she might catch him at lunch. A quick step on the boardwalk behind her caught the girl's attention. Almost at the same moment a voice hailed her. "Whither away, Miss Dwight?" She turned, heart beating fast. "I was looking for you, Mr. Kilmeny." "And you've found me. What luck--for Jack Kilmeny!" His friendly smile--the same one that had claimed comradeship on the Gunnison--beamed upon her with its hint of irony. A miner with a dinner bucket was coming toward them. Moya spoke quickly. "I want to see you ... alone. I've something important to tell you." His cool eyes searched her face alertly. "Come up with me to the old Pandora dump." They took a side street that ran up the hill, presently came to the end of it, and stopped at the foot of a trail leading to the abandoned shaft-house. The girl fired her news at him point blank. "Mr. Verinder has found out what you mean to do to-night and you are to be trapped." "What I mean to do?" he repeated. "About the ore--shipping it or something. I don't know exactly--somebody was drinking and talked, I think." Moya, watching Kilmeny's face, saw only the slightest change. The eyes seemed to harden and narrow the least in the world. "Tell me all you know about it." She repeated what Joyce had overheard, adding that her friend had asked her to tell him. The faintest ironic smile touched his face. "Will you thank Miss Seldon for me, both for this and many other favors?" "You don't understand Joyce. You're not fair to her," Moya said impulsively. "Perhaps not." A sudden warmth kindled in his eyes. "But I know who my real friends are. I'm fair to them, neighbor."