“Well, seein’ as yo’ seems to be an intermit frien’ ob de parties, I doane care ef I do,” said Wilet, and she began, and told Harcourt the whole story of Roma’s two days’ ordeal while a captive on the Isle of Storms. She told him more than she had told the landlord of the Snowden Hotel, whom she did not recognize as a friend of the family. She told him how it was that Roma, captive, guarded, had yet managed to communicate with her friends. For Wilet, either by accident or eavesdropping, had overheard the story of the carrier pigeon, as discussed by Roma and Mr. and Mrs. Gray on the morning of her departure from the island.
“Oh, Roma! your own glorious deliverer!” said Harcourt to himself, when the story was finished. “Now I can brave and bear the very worst that fate may have in store for me. Now you are free, queen!”
He arose, and thanked Wilet for her information, gave each negro a dollar to buy “bakker,” and declining their urgent offers of supper and bed, he bade them good-night, and returned to the boat, near which the boatman was walking up and down, beating his breast and sides to keep warm.
Half an hour’s rapid rowing took them to the mainland.
Harcourt found his supper waiting at the hotel. He had just time to eat it, pay his bill, and catch the night train for West Virginia.
CHAPTER V
DOROTHY HARCOURT’S SECRET
It was a wild, windy, blustering night in March when the train ran into Logwood.
Will Harcourt was the only passenger who got off at that little way station, and he had no luggage but his carpetbag, which he carried in his hand.
It was but eight o’clock, yet it was quite dark, and the station was deserted by all except the ticket clerk and the night porter. There was not a vehicle of any kind on the spot, nor, indeed, if there had been would Harcourt have availed himself of the convenience.
Without even entering the station he stepped from the platform down to the country road, and set off on a brisk walk to Lone Lodge plantation.