"What kind of money?"

"I dunno,--some funny kind hit was,--what her brother done sent her from
some funny place, I dunno just where."

"When did she send it?"

"'Bout a month 'fore you come."

"And--and did any letter ever come from the bank to tell her that the
money was received by them all right?"

The mountain girl did not answer, but again turned her face away.

"Tell me," Brian insisted. "I--I--must know, Judy," and his voice was
harsh and broken with emotion.

The answer came reluctantly: "I reckon you-all knows where that there
money went ter."

The girl's answer sent a new thought like a hot iron into Brian Kent's
tortured brain. He caught Judy's arm in quick and fearful excitement.
"Judy!" he gasped, imploringly, "Judy, do you--? does Auntie Sue know--?
does she know that I--?"

"How could she help knowin'? She ain't no fool. An' I done heard that
there Sheriff an' the deteckertive man tellin' her 'bout you an' the
bank. An' the Sheriff, he done give her a paper what he said told all
'bout what you-all done, an' she must er burned the paper, or done
somethin' with hit, 'cause I couldn't never find hit after that night.