s 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.

"Thank you!" said the man, standing aside to let them pass.

"I am Miss Carrington--whom do you wi