'That is Sanchia!' Helen was positive. 'There is a man with her.
It---- Do you think----'

He did not know why she should think what he knew she did think; what
he himself was thinking. It was altogether too far to distinguish one
man from another. It might even be Longstreet himself. But he knew
that she feared it was Jim Courtot, to whom naturally Sanchia would
turn at a moment like this; and never from the first did he doubt that
it was Courtot.

'It's some one of Sanchia's crowd,' he said with high assumption of
carelessness. 'But here is what I can't understand! Your father told
Sanchia; she has raced off and staked; and as sure as fate, they are on
the wrong hill! Sanchia wouldn't make a blunder like that!'

Helen was frowning meditatively. She understood what Howard had in
mind, and she, too, was perplexed.

'Do you know,' she cried suddenly, 'I think we have failed to do papa
justice!'

'What do you mean?'

'He never said outright that he had told her; he merely let us think
that he had. He never once said positively that he had faith in
Sanchia; he just said, over and over, that one accused should be given
a chance to prove his innocence! Now, supposing that he had led
Sanchia to think that his mine was over yonder on that other hill? He
would be risking nothing; and at the same time he would be giving her
that chance. No,' and it was a very thoughtful Helen who spoke, 'I