Moya, white to the lips, said nothing. A premonition of the truth clutched icily at her heart.
"A masked man stopped me just as I swung round a bend about three miles from Gunnison. He ordered me to throw out the satchel with the money. I did as I was told."
"He had you covered with a weapon?" asked India.
"With a rifle—yes."
"Did you—recognize him?" Moya's throat was dry, so that her question came almost in a whisper.
The captain's eyes met hers steadily. "He stayed in the bushes, so that I didn't see his body well. He was masked."
"But you know who it was. Tell me."
Ned Kilmeny was morally certain of the identity of the robber. He could all but swear to the voice, and surely there were not two men in the county with such a free and gallant poise of the head.
"I couldn't take oath to the man."
"It was your cousin." Moya was pale to the lips.