It was some minutes later—I cannot say how many—that one of the servants disturbed us by asking if we knew anything about Zadok.
“He has not come home,” said he, “and here is a man who wants him.”
“What man?” asked Arthur.
“Oh, that detective chap. He never will leave us alone.”
I arose. In an instant enlightenment had come to me. “It’s nothing,” said I with my eyes on Carmel; but the gesture I furtively made Arthur, said otherwise.
A few minutes later we were both in the driveway. “We are on the brink of a surprise,” I whispered. “I think I understand this Sweetwater now.”
Arthur looked bewildered, but he took the lead in the interview which followed with the man who had made him so much trouble and was now doing his best to make us all amends.
Zadok could not be found; he was wanted by the district attorney, who wished to put some questions to him. Were there any objections to his searching the stable-loft for indications of his whereabouts?
Arthur made none; and the detective, after sending the Cumberlands’ second man before him to light up the stable, disappeared beneath the great door, whither we more slowly followed him.
“Not here!” came in a shout from above, as we stepped in from the night air; and in a few minutes the detective came running down the stairs, baffled and very ill at ease. Suddenly he encountered my eye. “Oh—I know!” he cried, and started for the gate.