u been?' he
continued, as she raised her head and he saw the bruise on her forehead
and the strange pallor of her face.

'In the Tramp House,' the answered, in a voice which was not hers at
all, and made Harold look more curiously at her.

As he did so he saw peeping from a fold of the silk handkerchief the
corner of the tortoise-shell box which he remembered so well, and the
sight of which brought back all the shame and humiliation and pain of
that memorable morning when he had been suspected of taking it.

'What is it? What have you in your hand?' he asked.

Then Jerrie's face, so pale before, flushed scarlet, and her eyes had in
them a wild look which Harold construed into fear, as, without a word,
she laid the box in his hand, and then stood watching him is he opened
it.

Harold's face was whiter than Jerrie's had been, and his voice trembled
as he said, in a whisper:

'Mrs. Tracy's diamonds!'

'Yes, Mrs. Tracy's diamonds,' Jerrie replied, with a marked emphasis on
the _Mrs. Tracy_.

'How came you by them, and where did you find them,' Harold asked next,
shrinking a little from the glittering stones which seemed like fiery
eyes confronting him.

'I can't tell you now. Put them up quick. Don't let any one see them.
Somebody is coming,' Jerrie said, hurriedly, as her ear caught a sound
and her eye an object which Harold neither saw nor heard as he
mechanically thrust the box into his side pocket and then turned just as
Tom Tracy came up on horseback.

'Hallo, Jerrie! hallo, Hal!' he cried, dismounting quickly and throwing
the bridle-rein over his arm. 'And so you are off to that suit?' he
continued, addressing himself to Harold. 'By George, I wish I were a
witness. I'd swear the old man's head off; for, upon my soul, I believe
he is an old liar?' Then turning to Jerrie, he continued: 'Are you
better than you were this morning? Upon my word, you look worse. It's
that infernal watching last night that ails you. I told mother you ought
not to do it.'

Just then a whistle was heard in the distance; the train was at
Truesdale, four miles away.

'You will never catch it,' Tom said, as Harold snatched up his bag and
started to run, 'Here, jump on to Beaver, and leave him at the station.
I can go there for him.'

Harold knew it was impossible for him to make time against the train,
and, accepting Tom's offer, he vaulted into the saddle and galloped
rapidly away, reaching the station just in time to give his