"No, Miss Clyde, and I'm inclined to think he was not. However, we must proceed with caution, but we can work swiftly, and, I hope, reach the end soon. Matters are coming to a focus."
As they drove under the Pellbrook porte cochère, a strange-looking figure ran to greet them.
"Hello, darkey boy, who are you?" sang out Stone, as the blackamoor grinned at them.
Iris stared, and then burst out, laughing. "Why, it's Terence!" she cried. "For goodness' sake, Fibsy, what have you been doing?"
The boy was quite as black as any chimney sweep—indeed, as any full-blooded negro. He had run up from the cellar at the approach of the motor, and stood grinning at Iris and Stone.
"I'm on a trail," he said, "and it's a mighty dark one.
"Where will it lead you—to light?" asked Stone, smiling at the earnest, blackened face.
"I hope so, oh, Mr. Stone, I hope so! For the trail is somepin' fierce, be-lieve me!"
"Well, look out, don't get near Miss Clyde, nor me, either! You're a sight, Fibsy!"
"Yessir, I know it," and, without another word, the boy turned and disappeared down the cellar entrance.