Chapter XI
The Rider of the Black Horse
Given the exigency, and through what tortuous and secret channels will not the human mind seek to communicate with its kind! Call it telepathy or what not, the phenomenon itself is a well established fact; one that we accept without attempting to explain it.
Not a syllable of Warriner's message had crossed my lips, and yet by breakfast time the bruit of it was in the very air; the negroes were collecting here and there in little whispering groups; I overheard Eunice Trevor telephoning to Calverton for a confirmation of the report; finally, Betty herself asked me what it all meant. I had just finished telling her the bare facts when Warriner's car came swiftly up the drive; he alighted and we went into the library.
"No use in your going over until three o'clock," he began. "At least that is the time set by the magistrate for the hearing, and it will take several hours to get the material witnesses together. I believe that summonses have been served on some of your people, including Marcus, the house-boy, and Zack and Zeb."
"Who is the man, and what were the circumstances of his arrest?" I asked.
"His name, as I told you last night, is Dave Campion."
"Oh, I know him," put in Betty. "He is a sort of peddler; at least he travels around with a miscellaneous lot of perfumes and hair ribbons for the women, and cheap safety razors for the men."
"Ostensibly so," nodded Warriner, "but his real business is bootlegging."