Then she saw that he had sat stiffly, that his shoulder, the left shoulder, was carried awkwardly and was evidently bandaged.
"I'm sorry," she said again. And then, determined to tell him before he should ask, "Uncle, I…." Oh, it was so hard to say with him looking at her with those keen, bright eyes of his! "You should have got some one else to help you. I have failed…. I have lost your money for you!"
She dropped her face into her hands, trembling, striving to keep her tears back, feeling now, as she had not felt before, as if she had been altogether to blame for all that had happened, as though it had been her carelessness that had cost her uncle his five thousand dollars. And when at last he did not speak and she looked up again, she saw that his eyes had not changed, that there was no surprise in them, that if he felt anything whatever he hid it.
"Don't cry about it, my dear," he said gently. He even smiled a little. "Tell me about it. You were robbed of it? Before you had more than got out of light of Dry Town?"
"How do you know?" she cried.
"I don't know, my dear. But I do know that the stage came on through, with no attempt at a hold-up, and I guessed that our little ruse didn't fool anybody. When I got the empty strong box from the bank I knew pretty well what to look for."
"But," she told him, flushed with her hope, "we'll get it back! For I know who robbed me, I can swear to him!"
Pollard's hand, lying upon the bed spread, had shut tight. She noticed that and no other sign of emotion.
"And I know!" he said harshly. "Yes, I'll get it back! Now, tell me how it happened."
"It was a man named Buck Thornton…."