with confusion. "I'm all
unstrung and my head's queer--"

Hughie went out and slammed the door.

"You said that Mr. O'Neill--buried--the money--in Uncle's fireplace!"
repeated Joan distinctly. She caught Hannah's arm, her dark frightened
eyes imploring. "Hannah, did he?"

Shaking, Hannah put her apron to her eyes. "Hannah, you must tell me.
It is important that I know. No, don't cry. Did Mr. O'Neill bury the
money--in Uncle's fireplace?"

"Yes," choked Hannah in a low voice. "Oh, Hughie will never forgive
me!"

"How do you know?"

"The doctor. Hughie went on diggin', thinking there must be more,
until he was sick with nerves. The doctor had to tell him."

"And how did the doctor know?"

The girl's strained quiet helped Hannah to regain her self-control.

"Mr. O'Neill went to Rink's hotel to telephone," she faltered, wiping
her eyes, "and Sam Acker put his ear to the door. He--he telephoned
for a lot of ragged money--"

Joan caught her breath.

"And then a week later," gulped Hannah, "when the doctor came to tend
his wife, Sam told it, for Mr. O'Neill had said the doctor sent him
there to telephone. And the doctor never would have told but for
Hughie's nerves. He said so when he pledged us both to keep it secret.
He spoke wonderful about Mr. O'Neill. That I must say. And he called
him somebody Donkeyhote--"

"Where is Mr. O'Neill?"

"He drove down to the village with Mr. Rittenhouse for the mail."

Joan glided away like a shadow.

Don Quixote! And so he had done that strange, fantastic thing for
her--and she had given the money away to Don! Joan stopped at the foot
of the stairway, her face colorless and unbelieving, her mind casting
up a vivid picture of the night of search in the sitting room.
It--could--not--be!

Ah, but it could! For Kenny, reckless and on his mettle, was a
finished actor. And the morning at the telephone! His silence and
constraint had bothered her then not a little. Later, whirling through
the blizzard in a taxi, he had begged her not to do it. And he had
surrendered in the end with a sigh and smiled and kissed her. His
eyes, warmly blue, irresistibly Irish in their tenderness, seemed now
to stare at her with sad reproach. Ah, the kindness of him! Hot
stinging tears rolled slowly down the girl's white cheeks.

"Joan!" It was Brian's voice behind her.

Joan turned, trembling, blinked and smiled.

Something in her face drove his memory back to the m