"And with such pretty points, knowst thou any other that wears points as fine?"
"Why, Couthin Giles hath points of azure silk with tags of silver, and Counthillor Neale wears rich ribbon points tipped with crystal, and the other day I saw an Indian, and on his blanket was fastened a single point of green silk, and—what think you?—the tag was of wrought gold with an emerald in the end. It made me laugh to see it worn like that. Oh, and, Mother, 'twas the same Indian we saw to-day in the butheth by the Governor's Spring. 'Twath that I strove to tell thee, but thou wouldtht not hear."
The two women looked at each other and turned pale.
"This Indian—who was he—did ever you see him before?"
"Nay, 'twas on the wharf, and he was selling tobacco and shells; none knew him, for I asked."
"Margaret, oh, Margaret, surely now we have found the guilty man."
"Not so fast, Elinor! The Indian got that point of a white man. The question is, was it before or after the murder."
The smile faded out of Elinor Calvert's face, and she drew a deep sigh.
"Only another blind lead," she murmured.
"Only another link in the chain," said Margaret. "Be of good cheer. You and I are not women to fail in an undertaking into which we have put our whole hearts. Depend upon it, we shall trace the owner of the emerald tag yet."