Part 88

He was late, and when he arrived at Ashburton, Captain Carrington and Macloud were just about to start in pursuit.

"I found these!" he said, tossing the glove and the handkerchief on the table--"on the west side of the road, about half a mile from town."

Macloud picked them up.

"The violets are familiar--and the handkerchief is Elaine's," said he. "I recognize the monogram as hers."

"What do you make of it?" Captain Carrington demanded.

"Nothing--it passes me."

His glance sought Croyden's.

A shake of the head was his answer.

The Captain strode to the telephone.

"I'm going to call in our friends," he said. "I think we shall need them."

XVIII

THE LONE HOUSE BY THE BAY

When Croyden and Macloud left the Carrington residence that evening, after their call and tea, Elaine and Davila remained for a little while in the drawing-room rehearsing the events of the day, as women will. Presently, Davila went over to draw the shades.

"What do you say to a walk before we dress for dinner?" she inquired.

"I should like it, immensely," Elaine answered.

They went upstairs, changed quickly to street attire, and set out.

"We will go down to the centre of the town and back," said Davila. "It's about half a mile each way, and there isn't any danger, so long as you keep in the town. I shouldn't venture beyond it unescorted, however, even in daylight."

"Why?" asked Elaine. "Isn't Hampton orderly?"

"Hampton is orderly enough. It's the curse that hangs over the South since the Civil War: the negro."

"Oh! I understand," said Elaine, shuddering.

"I don't mean that all black men are bad, for they are not. Many are entirely trustworthy, but the trustworthy ones are much, very much, in the minority. The vast majority are worthless--and a worthless nigger is the worst thing on earth."

"I think I prefer only the lighted streets," Elaine remarked.

"And you will be perfectly safe there," Davila replied.

They swung briskly along to the centre of the town--where the two main thoroughfares, King and Queen Streets, met each other in a wide circle that, after the fashion of Southern towns, was known, incongruously enough, as "The Diamond." Passing around this circle, they retraced their steps toward home.

As they neared Ashburton, an automobile with the top up and side curtains on shot up behind them, hesitated a moment, as though uncertain of its destination and then drew up before the Carrington place. Two men alighted, gave an order to the driver, and went across the pavement to the gate, while the engine throbbed, softly.

Then they seemed to notice the women approaching, and stepping back from the gate, they waited.

"I beg your pardon!" said one, raising his hat and bowing, "can you tell me if this is where Captain Carrington lives?"

"It is," answered Davila.