“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.”