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 282 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 wish to see?” 283

“Captain Carrington, is he at home?”

“I do not know—if you will come in, I’ll inquire.”

“You’re very kind!” with another bow.

He sprang forward and opened the gate. Davila thanked him with a smile, and she and Elaine went in, leaving the strangers to follow.

The next instant, each girl was struggling in the folds of a shawl, which had been flung over her from behind and wrapped securely around her head and arms, smothering her cries to a mere whisper. In a trice, despite their struggles—which, with heads covered and arms held close to their sides, were utterly unavailing—they were caught up, tossed into the tonneau, and the car shot swiftly away.

In a moment, it was clear of the town, the driver “opened her up,” and they sped through the country at thirty miles an hour.

“Better give them some air,” said the leader. “It doesn’t matter how much they yell here.”

He had been holding Elaine on his lap, his arms keeping the shawl tight around her. Now he loosed her, and unwound the folds.

“You will please pardon the liberty we have taken,” he said, as he freed her, “but there are——”

Crack!

Elaine had struck him straight in the face with all her strength, and, springing free, was on the 284 point of leaping out, when he seized her and forced her back, caught her arms in the shawl, which was still around her, and bound them tight to her side.

“Better be a little careful, Bill!” he said. “I got an upper cut on the jaw that made me see stars.”

“I’ve been very easy with mine,” his companion returned. “She’ll not hand me one.” However, he took care not to loosen the shawl from her arms. “There you are, my lady, I hope you’ve not been greatly inconvenienced.”

“What do you mean by this outrage?” said Davila.

“Don’t forget, Bill!—mum’s the word!” the chief cautioned.

“At least, you can permit us to sit on the floor of the car,” said Elaine. “Whatever may be your scheme, it’s scarcely necessary to hold us in this disgusting position.”

“Will you make no effort to escape?” the chief asked.

“No!”

“I reckon that is a trifle overstated!” he laughed. “What about you, Miss Carrington?”

Davila did not answer—contenting herself with a look, which was far more expressive than words.

“Well, we will take pleasure in honoring your first request, Miss Cavendish.”

He caught up a piece of rope, passed it around her arms, outside the shawl, tied it in a running 285 knot, and quietly lifted her from his lap to the floor.

“I trust that is satisfactory?” he asked.

“By comparison, eminently so.”

“Thank you!” he said. “Do you, Miss Carrington, wish to sit beside your friend?”

“If you please!” said Davila, with supreme contempt.

He took the rope and tied her, likewise.

“Very good, Bill!” he said, and they placed her beside Elaine.

“If you will permit your legs to be tied, we will gladly let you have the seat——”

“No!——”

“Well, I didn’t think you would—so you will have to remain on the floor; you see, you might be tempted to jump, if we gave you the seat.”

They were running so rapidly, through the night air, that the country could scarcely be distinguished, as it rushed by them. To Elaine, it was an unknown land. Davila, however, was looking for something she could recognize—some building that she knew, some stream, some topographical formation. But in the faint and uncertain moonlight, coupled with the speed at which they travelled, she was baffled. The chief observed, however.

“With your permission!” he said, and taking two handkerchiefs from his pocket, he bound the eyes of both.

“It is only for a short while,” he explained—“matter 286 of an hour or so, and you suffer no particular inconvenience, I trust.”

Neither Elaine nor Davila condescended to reply.

After a moment’s pause, the man went on:

“I neglected to say—and I apologize for my remissness—that you need fear no ill-treatment. You will be shown every consideration—barring freedom, of course—and all your wants, within the facilities at our command, will be gratified. Naturally, however, you will not be permitted to communicate with your friends.”

“How nice of you!” said Elaine. “But I should be better pleased if you would tell us the reason for this abduction.”

“That, I regret, I am not at liberty to discuss.”

“How long are we to remain prisoners?” demanded Davila.

“It depends.”

“Upon what?”

“Upon whether something is acceded to.”

“By whom?”

“I am not at liberty to say.”

“And if it is not acceded to?” Elaine inquired.

“In that event—it would be necessary to decide what should be done with you.”

“Done with us! What do you mean to imply?”

“Nothing!—the time hasn’t come to imply—I hope it will not come.”

“Why?” said Davila.

“Because.” 287

“Because is no reason.”

“It is a woman’s reason!” said he, laughing lightly.

“Do you mean that your failure would imperil our lives?”

“Something like it?” he replied, after a moment’s thought.

“Our lives!” Davila cried. “Do you appreciate what you are saying!”

The man did not answer.

“Is it possible you mean to threaten our lives?” Davila persisted.

“I threaten nothing—yet.”

“Oh, you threaten nothing, yet!” she mocked. “But you will threaten, if——”

“Exactly! if—you are at liberty to guess the rest.”

“I don’t care to guess!” she retorted. “Do you appreciate that the whole Eastern Shore will be searching for us by morning—and that, if the least indignity is offered us, your lives won’t be worth a penny?”

“We take the risk, Miss Carrington,” replied the man, placidly.

Davila shrugged her shoulders, and they rode in silence, for half an hour.

Then the speed of the car slackened, they ran slowly for half a mile, and stopped. The chief reached down, untied the handkerchiefs, and sprang out. 288

“You may descend,” he said, offering his hand.

Elaine saw the hand, and ignored it; Davila refused even to see the hand.

They could make out, in the dim light, that they were before a long, low, frame building, with the waters of the Bay just beyond. A light burned within, and, as they entered, the odor of cooking greeted them.

“Thank goodness! they don’t intend to starve us!” said Elaine. “I suppose it’s scarcely proper in an abducted maiden, but I’m positively famished.”

“I’m too enraged to eat,” said Davila.

“Are you afraid?” Elaine asked.

“Afraid?—not in the least!”

“No more am I—but oughtn’t we be afraid?”

“I don’t know! I’m too angry to know anything.”

They had been halted on the porch, while the chief went in, presumably, to see that all was ready for their reception. Now, he returned.

“If you will come in,” he said, “I will show you to your apartment.”

“Prison, you mean,” said Davila.

“Apartment is a little better word, don’t you think?” said he. “However, as you wish, Miss Carrington, as you wish! We shall try to make you comfortable, whatever you may call your temporary quarters.—These two rooms are yours,” he continued, throwing open the door. “They are small, but quiet and retired; you will not, I am 289 sure, be disturbed. Pardon me, if I remove these ropes, you will be less hampered in your movements. There! supper will be served in fifteen minutes—you will be ready?”

“Yes, we shall be ready,” said Elaine, and the man bowed and retired. “He has some manners!” she reflected.

“They might be worse,” Davila retorted.

“Which is some satisfaction,” Elaine added.

“Yes!—and we best be thankful for it.”

“The rooms aren’t so bad,” said Elaine, looking around.

“We each have a bed, and a bureau, and a wash-stand, and a couple of chairs, a few chromos, a rug on the floor—and bars at the window.”

“I noticed the bars,” said Davila.

Elaine crossed to her wash-stand.

“They’ve provided us with water, so we may as well use it,” she said. “I think my face needs—Heavens! what a sight I am!”

“Haven’t you observed the same sight in me?” Davila asked. “I’ve lost all my puffs, I know—and so have you—and your hat is a trifle awry.”

“Since we’re not trying to make an impression, I reckon it doesn’t matter!” laughed Elaine. “We will have ample opportunity to put them to rights before Colin and Geoffrey see us.”

She took off her hat, pressed her hair into shape, replaced a few pins, dashed water on her face, and washed her hands. 290

“Now,” she said, going into the other room where Miss Carrington was doing likewise, “if I only had a powder-rag, I’d feel dressed.”

Davila turned, and, taking a little book, from the pocket of her coat, extended it.

“Here is some Papier Poudre,” she said.

“You blessed thing!” Elaine exclaimed, and, tearing out a sheet, she rubbed it over her face. “Is my nose shiny?” she ended.

A door opened and a young girl appeared, wearing apron and cap.

“The ladies are served!” she announced.

The two looked at each other and laughed.

“This is quite some style!” Davila commented.

“It is, indeed!” said Elaine as she saw the table, with its candles and silver (plated, to be sure), dainty china, and pressed glass.

“If the food is in keeping, I think we can get along for a few days. We may as well enjoy it while it lasts.”

Davila smiled. “You always were of a philosophic mind.”

“It’s the easiest way.”

She might have added, that it was the only way she knew—her wealth having made all roads easy to her.

The meal finished, they went back to their apartment, to find the bed turned down for the night, and certain lingerie, which they were without, laid out for them. 291

“Better and better!” exclaimed Elaine. “You might think this was a hotel.”

“Until you tried to go out.”

“We haven’t tried, yet—wait until morning.” A pack of cards was on the table. “See how thoughtful they are! Come, I’ll play you Camden for a cent a point.”

“I can’t understand what their move is?” said Davila, presently. “What can they hope to accomplish by abducting us—or me, at any rate. It seems they don’t want anything from us.”

“I make it, that they hope to extort something, from a third party, through us—by holding us prisoners.”

“Captain Carrington has no money—it can’t be he,” said Davila, “and yet, why else should they seize me?”

“The question is, whose hand are they trying to force?” reflected Elaine. “They will hold us until something is acceded to, the man said. Until what is acceded to, and by whom?”

“You think that we are simply the pawns?” asked Davila.

“Undoubtedly!”

“And if it isn’t acceded to, they will kill us?”

“They will doubtless make the threat.”

“Pleasant prospect for us!”

“We won’t contemplate it, just yet. They may gain their point, or we may be rescued; in either case, we’ll be saved from dying!” Elaine laughed. 292 “And, at the worst, I may be able to buy them off—to pay our own ransom. If it’s money they want, we shall not die, I assure you.”

“You would pay what they demand?” Davila asked, quickly.

“If I have to choose between death and paying, I reckon I’ll pay.”

“But can you pay?”

“Yes, I think I can pay,” she said quietly. “I’m not used to boasting my wealth, but I can draw my check for a million, and it will be honored without a moment’s question. Does that make you feel easier, my dear?”

“Considerably easier,” said Davila, with a glad laugh. “I couldn’t draw my check for much more than ten thousand cents. I am only——” She stopped, staring.

“What on earth is the matter, Davila?” Elaine exclaimed.

“I have it!—it’s the thieves!”

“Have you suddenly lost your mind?”

“No! I’ve found it! I’ve come out of my trance. It’s Parmenter’s chest.”

“Parmenter’s chest?” echoed Elaine. “I reckon I must be in a trance, also.”

“Hasn’t Mr. Croyden told you—or Mr. Macloud?”

“No!”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t—but I will. Parmenter’s chest is a fortune in jewels.” 293

“A what?”

“A fortune in jewels, which Mr. Croyden has searched for and not found—and the thieves think——”

“You would better tell me the story,” said Elaine, pushing back the cards.

And Davila told her....

“It is too absurd!” laughed Elaine, “those rogues trying to force Geoffrey to divide what he hasn’t got, and can’t find, and we abducted to constrain him. He couldn’t comply if he wanted to, poor fellow!”

“But they will never believe it,” said Davila.

“And, meanwhile, we suffer. Well, if we’re not rescued shortly, I can advance the price and buy our freedom. They want half a million. Hum! I reckon two hundred thousand will be sufficient—and, maybe, we can compromise for one hundred thousand. Oh! it’s not so bad, Davila, it’s not so bad!”

She smiled, shrewdly. Unless she were wofully mistaken, this abduction would release her from the embarrassment of declaring herself to Geoffrey. She could handle the matter, now.

“What is it?” asked Davila. “Why are you smiling so queerly?”

“I was thinking of Colin and Geoffrey—and how they are pretty sure to know their minds when this affair is ended.”

“You mean?” 294

“Exactly! I mean, if this doesn’t bring Colin to his senses, he is hopeless.”

“And Mr. Croyden?” Davila queried. “How about him?”

“He will surrender, too. All his theoretical notions of relative wealth will be forgotten. I’ve only to wait for rescue or release. On the whole, Davila, I’m quite satisfied with being abducted. Moreover, it is an experience which doesn’t come to every girl.” She looked at her friend quizzically. “What are you going to do about Colin? I rather think you should have an answer ready; the circumstances are apt to make him rather precipitate.”

The next morning after breakfast, which was served in their rooms, Elaine was looking out through the bars on her window, trying to get some notion of the country, when she saw, what she took to be, the chief abductor approaching. He was a tall, well-dressed man of middle age, with the outward appearance of a gentleman. She looked at him a moment, then rang for the maid.

“I should like to have a word with the man who just came in,” she said.

“I will tell him, Miss.”

He appeared almost immediately, an inquiring look on his face.

“How can I serve you, Miss Cavendish?” he said, deferentially.

“By permitting us to go out for some air—these 295 rooms were not designed, apparently, for permanent residence.”

“It can be arranged,” he answered. “When do you wish to go?”

“At once!”

“Very good!” he said. “You will have no objection to being attended, to make sure you don’t stray off too far, you know?”

“None whatever, if the attendant remains at a reasonable distance.”

He bowed and stood aside.

“You may come,” he said.

“Is the locality familiar?” Elaine asked, when they were some distance from the house.

Davila shook her head. “It is south of Hampton, I think, but I can’t give any reason for my impression. The car was running very rapidly; we were, I reckon, almost two hours on the way, but we can’t be more than fifty miles away.”

“If they came direct—but if they circled, we could be much less,” Elaine observed.

“It’s a pity we didn’t think to drop something from the car to inform our friends which way to look for us.”

“I did,” said Elaine. “I tossed out a handkerchief and a glove a short distance from Hampton—just as I struck that fellow. The difficulty is, there isn’t any assurance we kept to that road. Like as not, we started north and ended east or south of town. What is this house, a fishing club?” 296

“I rather think so. There is a small wharf, and a board-walk down to the Bay, and the house itself is one story and spread-out, so to speak.”

“Likely it’s a summer club-house, which these men have either rented or preËmpted for our prison.”

“The country around here is surely deserted!” said Davila.

“Hence, a proper choice for our temporary residence.”

“I can’t understand the care they are taking of us—the deference with which we are treated, the food that is given us.”

“Parmenter’s treasure, and the prize they think they’re playing for, has much to do with it. We are of considerable value, according to their idea.”

After a while, they went back to the house. The two men, who had remained out of hearing, but near enough to prevent any attempt to escape, having seen them safely within, disappeared. As they passed through the hall they encountered the chief. He stepped aside.

“You enjoyed your walk, I trust?” he said.

Davila nodded curtly. Elaine stopped.

“I feel sorry for you!” she said, smiling.

“You are very kind,” he replied. “But why?”

“You are incurring considerable expense for nothing.”

He grinned. “It is a very great pleasure, I assure you.”

“You are asking the impossible,” she went on. 297 “Mr. Croyden told you the simple truth. He didn’t find the Parmenter jewels.”

The man’s face showed his surprise, but he only shrugged his shoulders expressively, and made no reply.

“I know you do not believe it—yet it’s a fact, nevertheless. Mr. Croyden couldn’t pay your demands, if he wished. Of course, we enjoy the experience, but, as I said, it’s a trifle expensive for you.”

The fellow’s grin broadened.

“You’re a good sport!” he said—“a jolly good sport! But we’re dealing with Mr. Croyden and Mr. Macloud, so, you’ll pardon me if I decline to discuss the subject.”