The horseman hesitated and galloped into the shadows. A moment later a tall shrouded figure on horseback slowly approached.
"Cut your wheel," the old Governor said to the girl. He stepped from the buggy without assistance. "Now turn round and wait for me." Cleo obeyed, and the venerable statesman with head erect, his white hair and beard shining in the moonlight calmly awaited the approach of the younger man.
Norton dismounted and led his horse, the rein hanging loosely over his arm.
"Well, Governor Carteret"—the drawling voice was low and quietly determined.
The white-haired figure suddenly stiffened:
"Don't insult me, sir, by talking through a mask—take that thing off your head."
The major bowed and removed his mask.
When the old man spoke again, his voice trembled with emotion, he stepped close and seized Norton's arm:
"I think not," was the even answer. The deep brown eyes were holding the older man's gaze with a cold, deadly look. "Were you ever arrested, Governor, by the henchmen of a peanut politician and thrown into a filthy jail without warrant and held without trial at the pleasure of a master?"