y much at home.

At intervals, he had taken old Parmenter's letter from its secret
drawer, and studied it, but he had been so much occupied with getting
acquainted, that he had done nothing else. Moreover, there was no
pressing need for haste. If the treasure had kept on Greenberry Point
for one hundred and ninety years, it would keep a few months longer.
Besides, he was a bit uncertain whether or not he should confide in
someone, Captain Carrington or Major Borden. He would doubtless need
another man to help him, even if the location should be easily
determined, which, however, was most unlikely. For him, alone, to go
prying about on Greenberry Point, would surely occasion comment and
arouse suspicion--which would not be so likely if there were two of
them, and especially if one were a well-known resident of Maryland.

He finally determined, however, to go across to Annapolis and look over
the ground, before he disclosed the secret to any one. Which was the
reasonable decision.

When he came to look up the matter of transportation, however, he was
surprised to find that no boat ran between Annapolis and Hampton--or
any other port on the Eastern Shore. He either had to go by water to
Baltimore (which was available on only three days a week) and thence
finish his journey by rail or transfer to another boat, or else he had
to go by steam cars north to Wilmington, and then directly south again
to Annapolis. In either case, a day's journey between two towns that
were almost within seeing distance of each other, across the Bay. Of
the two, he chose to go by boat to Baltimore.

Then, the afternoon of the day before it sailed, he received a
wire--delivered two hours and more after its receipt, in the leisurely
fashion of the Eastern Shore. It was from Macloud, and dated
Philadelphia.

"Can I come down to-night? Answer to Bellevue-Stratford."

His reply brought Macloud in the morning train.

Croyden met him at the station. Moses took his bag, and they walked out
to Clarendon.

"Sorry I haven't a car!" said Croyden--then he laughed. "The truth is,
Colin, they're not popular down here. The old families won't have
them--they're innovations--the saddle horse and the family carriage are
still to the fore with them. Only the butcher, and the baker and the
candlestick maker have motors. There's one, now--he's the candlestick
maker, I think. This town is nothing if not conservative. It reminds me
of the one down South, wher