“Sage advice!” returned Croyden mockingly. “If I let future events decide for me, the end’s already fixed.” 274
The big clock on the landing was chiming seven when they rang the bell at Ashburton and the maid ushered them into the drawing-room. Mrs. Carrington was out of town, visiting in an adjoining county, and the Captain had not appeared. He came down stairs a moment later, and took Macloud and Croyden over to the library.
After about a quarter of an hour, he glanced at his watch a trifle impatiently.—Another fifteen minutes, and he glanced at it again.
“Caroline!” he called, as the maid passed the door. “Go up to Miss Davila’s room and tell her it’s half-after-seven.”
Then he continued with the story he was relating.
Presently, the maid returned; the Captain looked at her, interrogatingly.
“Mis’ Davila, she ain’ deah, no seh,” said the girl.
“She is probably in Miss Cavendish’s room,—look, there, for her,” the Captain directed.
“No, seh! I looks dyar—she ain’ no place up stairs, and neither is Mis’ Cav’dish, seh. Hit’s all dark, in dey rooms, seh, all dark.”
“Very singular,” said the Captain. “Half-after-seven, and not here?”