New Orleans?" Angela said to Kate. "He's in the car between this and the
dining-car. Please find him, and let him know that I should like to see
him here."

Kate's quest produced Nick; and Mrs. May did not mention Mr. Millard. She
fired her shot without warning.

"This is not my gold bag."

Nick's jaw squared itself. "It is your bag," he insisted.

"Mine had twenty-eight stones. This has thirty. How is that to be
explained?"

"How should I tell?" he echoed, bold as brass. "It's a question for the
police." She had scolded him for confessing. He would not court the lash
again.

"I wonder if you _couldn't_ tell--if you would? I insist, Mr. Hilliard,
that you give me the whole truth, if you know it. And I think you must
know."

"I warned you there was a mystery," he mumbled.

"You gave me the impression that it was a police mystery. Now I believe it
was of your making. A little while ago you asked me to forgive you. Don't
you see I _never_ can, unless you tell the truth about this wretched bag?"

"A little while ago you wouldn't forgive me because I did tell the truth."