aps he thinks that since he is in love with you and you with him
that gives him some claim," Moya suggested dryly.

"Of course that's what he thinks. But it's absurd. I'm not going to
marry Dobyans Verinder because I want to. He knows that as well as you
do. Why does he blame me, then? Goodness knows, it's hard enough to
marry the man without having my friends misunderstand."

Moya asked an unnecessary question. "Why do you marry him, then?"

"You know perfectly well," flashed Joyce petulantly. "I'm taking him
because I must."

"Like a bad-tasting dose of medicine?"

Her friend nodded. "I _can't_ let him go. I just _can't_. Jack Kilmeny
ought to see that."

"Oh, he sees it, but you can't blame him for being bitter."

At the recollection of his impudence anger flared up in Joyce.

"Let him be as bitter as he pleases, then. I happen to know something he
would give a good deal to learn. Mr. Jack Kilmeny is going to get into
trouble this very night. They've laid a plot----"

She stopped, warned by the tense stillness of Moya.

"Yes?" asked the Irish girl.

"Oh, well! It doesn't matter."

"Who has laid a plot?"

"I've no business to tell. I just happened to overhear something."

"What did you overhear?"

"Nothing much."

"I want to know just what you heard."

Against the quiet steadfast determination of this girl Joyce had no
chance. A spirit that did not know defeat inhabited the slender body.

Bit by bit Moya forced out of her the snatch of conversation she had
overheard while at breakfast.

"It's a secret. You're not to tell anyone," Joyce protested.

Her friend drummed on the arm of the chair with the tips of her fingers.
She was greatly troubled at what she had learned. She was a young woman,
singularly stanch to her friends, and certainly she owed something to
Verinder. The whole party were his guests at Goldbanks. He had brought
them in a private car and taken care of them munificently. There were
times when Moya disliked him a good deal, but that would not justify an
act of treachery. If she warned Jack Kilmeny--and Moya did not pretend
to herself for an instant that she was not going to do this--she would
have to make confession to Verinder later. This would be humiliating,
doubly so because she knew the man believed she was in love with the
Goldbanks miner.

In her heart the Irish girl did not doubt that Jack was guilty, but this
would not prevent her from saving him if she could. There ca