But Ashton-Kirk shook his head.
“No,” said he. “Just at this time I think Campe is perfectly safe from Alva and his crowd. When you first came to me with the story I felt that the matter was one of life and death—that it would not wait an hour. But after studying things hereabouts for a little I saw that in this I had been mistaken. The criminals will not be in a hurry to murder Campe. He is the last of his family, and they want what he knows, or can give, more than they want his life.”
It was fully five o’clock, and the dusk was thickening when they heard the heavy braying of the auto horn outside. A little later the two ladies whisked past the library door, and then Campe entered, dusty, and with an eager look.
“You must have had a good run,” said Ashton-Kirk.
“I kept them away as long as I could without attracting their attention. But,” and the eager look increased, “what news?”
“We’ve looked around a bit,” said Ashton-Kirk, “both inside and outside; and we saw a number of things which interested us greatly.”
Campe stood looking at the speaker for a moment; then he said:
“I can see that you are not ready to tell me the result of your investigation. Very well. But when the time comes,” and here his lips twitched a little, “don’t delay.”
At dinner Miss Knowles was very lovely, and the elder lady was flushed and animated.
“An automobile trip,” thought Bat, as he listened to the spinster’s chatter “should be prescribed for the good lady frequently. It’s done her good.”