Townsend lifted a hand. He rose from the chair.
“All right, Nabby,” he broke in. “I shouldn’t wonder if Varunas was wise for once in his life. At least I’m hoping he is wiser just now than some other folks who think they are.”
The great barn, towered and cupolaed in corresponding magnificence with the house, was situated at the rear of the yard, the vegetable garden at one side and the flower beds, beloved by the late Arabella Townsend, upon the other. Behind the barn were hen yards, pigsties, and, beyond these, the rolling acres of Townsend pastures, meadows and pine groves.
In the white painted stables beyond the carriage house the captain found Mr. Gifford seated upon an overturned bucket. Upon his shriveled little face was an expression of huge satisfaction. His puckered lips widened in a grin as Townsend came in.
“Been waitin’ for you, Cap’n Foster,” he announced. “Ain’t touched a thing. Left the whitewashin’ job just as ’twas for you to see. You stay right where you be and I’ll fetch him out.”
He moved down the row of stalls, where polished flanks and carefully brushed tails indicated the care bestowed upon each occupant, and from one led out a horse with a white forehead and a ring of white encircling one of its legs.
“There!” crowed Varunas. “There we be!... No, no! Don’t come no closer, Cap’n Foster. Just stand where you are and get a gen’ral view. Looks enough like Claribel to fool a nigh-sighted person on a dark mornin’, don’t he? He, he!”
Townsend smiled. “Good work, Varunas!” he grunted. “Well? How did it go?”
Mr. Gifford winked. “He went fine,” he declared. “Done that Circle in jig time, he did, and I was hangin’ back on him at that. I give you my word I never realized Hornet had it in him. Why, when I see—”
“Never mind. It is what Seth Emmons saw that interests me just now. Was Seth on hand at the Circle this morning?”