ree old slaves--yes, sir. He wouldn't even see
me; Joe, his old nigger, would fetch orders for this or that. Once or
twice I rode out to see him, but I wa'n't even allowed inside that door;
the message I got was that he couldn't be disturbed, and the last time
I come he sent me word that if I annoyed him again he would be forced
to terminate our business relations. That was pretty strong talk, wa'n't
it, when you consider that I could have sold the roof from over his
head and the land from under his feet? Oh, well, I just put it down to
childishness." There was a brief pause, then Crenshaw spoke again.
"I reckon, sir, if you know anything about the old general's private
affairs you don't feel no call to speak on that point?" he observed,
and with evident regret. He had hoped that Bladen would clear up the
mystery, for certainly it must have been some sinister tragedy that had
cost the general his grip on life and for twenty years and more had made
of him a recluse, so that the faces of his friends had become as the
faces of strangers.

"My dear sir, I know nothing of General Quintard's private, history. I
am even unacquainted with my clients, who are distant cousins, but his
nearest kin--they live in South Carolina. I was merely instructed
to represent them in the event of his death and to look after their
interests."

"That's business," said Crenshaw, nodding.

"All I know is this: General Quintard was a conspicuous man in these
parts fifty years ago; that was before my time, Mr. Crenshaw, and I take
it, too, it was before yours; he married a Beaufort."

"So he did," said Crenshaw, "and there was one child, a daughter; she
married a South Carolinian by the name of Turberville. I remember that,
fo' they were married under the gallery in the hall. Great folks,
those Turbervilles, rolling rich. My father was manager then fo' the
general--that was nearly forty years ago. There was life here then, sir;
the place was alive with niggers and the house full of guests from one
month's end to another." He drummed on the desktop. "Who'd a thought it
wa'n't to last for ever!"

"And what became of the daughter who married Turberville?"

"Died years ago," said Crenshaw. "She was here the last time about
thirty years back. It wa'n't so easy to get about in those days, no
roads to speak of and no stages, and besides, the old general wa'n't
much here nohow; her going away had sort of broken up his home, I
reckon. Then the place s