Verinder told her so much. Red
signals of defiance blazed on both cheeks. Whatever it was, she did not
intend to believe him.

Verinder disclosed a proper reluctance. "Bleyer says he doesn't know."

"Oh, he _says!_ I want him to tell what he thinks."

"You won't like it," the mine owner warned.

"I'll be the best judge of that." Joyce swung upon Bleyer. "You hear,
sir. You're to tell me what you mean."

"I don't mean anything." He paused, then looked straight at Joyce with a
visible harshness. "I'll tell you what the common gossip is if you want
to know, Miss Seldon. They say he is a highgrader."

"And what is a highgrader?" demanded Moya.

"A highgrader is one who steals rich ore from the mine where he works,"
answered Verinder smugly.

Moya, eyes hot and shining, flashed her challenge at him. "I don't
believe it--not a word of it, so far as Mr. Kilmeny is concerned."

"Afraid that doesn't change the facts, Miss Dwight. It's a matter of
general knowledge." Beneath Verinder's bland manner there lurked a
substratum of triumph.

"General fiddlesticks! Don't believe it, Joyce," cried Moya stormily.
"He doesn't even work as a miner. He owns his own lease."

"He used to work in the mines, even if he doesn't now. There are
stories----"

"Ridiculous to think it of Mr. Kilmeny," exploded Moya. "We've done
nothing but insult him ever since we've known him. First he was a
highwayman. Now he is a thief. Anything else, Mr. Verinder?"

"Everybody knows it," retorted Verinder sulkily.

"Then prove it. Put him in prison. Aren't there any laws in the state?
If everybody knows it, why isn't he arrested?" the Irish girl flamed.

"Moya," chided Lady Farquhar gently.

Her ward turned upon Lady Jim a flushed face stirred by anger to a vivid
charm. "Can't you see how absurd it is? He owns his own lease. Mr.
Bleyer admits it. Is he robbing himself, then?"

The muscles stood out on the cheeks of the superintendent like cords. He
stuck doggedly to his guns. "I didn't say he stole the ore himself. The
charge is that he buys it from the men who do take it. His lease is an
excuse. Of course he pretends to get the ore there."

"It's the common talk of the camp," snapped Verinder contemptuously.
"The man doesn't even keep it under decent cover."

"Then prove it ... prove it! That ought to be easy--since everybody
knows it." Moya's voice was low, but her scornful passion lashed the
Englishman as with a whip.

"By Jove, that'