Col.  Warner’s countenance changed, and he inwardly execrated the imprudence that had made his secret plan known to one of the intended victims.

“Is this true, Col.  Warner?” asked Parker.

“No, it’s a lie!” returned the colonel, with an oath.

“Gentlemen!” said George Melville, calmly, “you can choose which you will believe.  I will only suggest that this man managed very adroitly to find out where each one of us kept his money.  You can also consider whether I have any cause to invent this story.”

It was clear that the passengers were inclined to put faith in Melville’s story.

“Gentlemen!” said the Colonel, angrily, “I never was so insulted in my life.  I am a man of wealth, traveling on business; I am worth a quarter of a million at least.  To associate me with road agents, whom I have as much reason to fear as you, is most ridiculous.  This young man may be well-meaning, but he is under a most extraordinary hallucination.  It is my belief that he dreamed the nonsense he has been retailing to you.”

“Ask the driver to stop the stage,” said Mr. Benson, a gentlman from Philadelphia.  “If Mr. Melville’s story is trustworthy, we may at any time reach the spot where the highwayman is lurking.  We must have a general consultation, and decide what is to be done.”

This proposal was approved, and the driver drew up the stage.

“I don’t propose to remain in the company of men who so grossly misjudge me,” said the Colonel, with dignity, as he made a motion to leave his fellow passengers.

“Stay here, sir!” said Mr. Benson, in a tone of authority.  “We cannot spare you yet.”

“Do you dare to detain me, sir?” exclaimed Warner, menacingly.

“Yes, we do,” said the German.  “Just stay where you are, Mr. Colonel, till we decide what to do.”

As each one of the company had produced his revolver, the Colonel thought it prudent to obey.

“I am disgusted with this fooling,” he said, “You’re all a pack of cowards.”

“Driver,” said George Melville, “has this stage ever been robbed?”

“Several times,” the driver admitted.

“When was the last time?”

“Two months since.”

“Where did it happen?”

“About a mile further on.”

“Did you ever see this gentleman before?” he asked, pointing to the colonel.

“Yes,” answered the driver, reluctantly.

“When did he last ride with you?”

“On the day the stage was robbed,” answered the driver.

The passengers exchanged glances, and then, as by a common impulse, all turned to Col.  Warner, to see how he would take this damaging revelation.  Disguise it as he might, he was clearly disconcerted.

“Is this true, colonel?” asked Benson.

“Yes, it is,” answered Col.  Warner, with some hesitation.  “I was robbed, with the rest.  I had four hundred dollars in my wallet, and the road agent made off with it.”