When Croyden and Macloud left the Carrington residence that evening,
after their call and tea, Elaine and Davila remained for a little while
in the drawing-room rehearsing the events of the day, as women will.
Presently, Davila went over to draw the shades.
"What do you say to a walk before we dress for dinner?" she inquired.
"I should like it, immensely," Elaine answered.
They went upstairs, changed quickly to street attire, and set out.
"We will go down to the centre of the town and back," said Davila.
"It's about half a mile each way, and there isn't any danger, so long
as you keep in the town. I shouldn't venture beyond it unescorted,
however, even in daylight."
"Why?" asked Elaine. "Isn't Hampton orderly?"
"Hampton is orderly enough. It's the curse that hangs over the South
since the Civil War: the negro."
"Oh! I understand," said Elaine, shuddering.
"I don't mean that all black men are bad, for they are not. Many are
entirely trustworthy, but the trustworthy ones are much, very much, in
the minority. The vast majority are worthless--and a worthless nigger
is the worst thing on earth."
"I think I prefer only the lighted streets," Elaine remarked.
"And you will be perfectly safe there," Davila replied.
They swung briskly along to the centre of the town--where the two main
thoroughfares, King and Queen Streets, met each other in a wide circle
that, after the fashion of Southern towns, was known, incongruously
enough, as "The Diamond." Passing around this circle, they retraced
their steps toward home.
As they neared Ashburton, an automobile with the top up and side
curtains on shot up behind them, hesitated a moment, as though
uncertain of its destination and then drew up before the Carrington
place. Two men alighted, gave an order to the driver, and went across
the pavement to the gate, while the engine throbbed, softly.
Then they seemed to notice the women approaching, and stepping back
from the gate, they waited.
"I beg your pardon!" said one, raising his hat and bowing, "can you
tell me if this is where Captain Carrington lives?"
"It is," answered Davila.
"Thank you!" said the man, standing aside to let them pass.
"I am Miss Carrington--whom do you wish to see?"
"Captain Carrington, is he at home?"
"I do not know--if you will come in, I'll inquire."
"You're very kind!" with another bow.
He sprang forward and opened the gate. Davila thanked him with a smile,
and she and Elaine went in, leaving the strangers to follow.
The next instant, each girl was struggling in the folds of a shawl,
which had been flung over her from behind and wrapped securely around
her head and arms, smothering her cries to a mere whisper. In a trice,
despite their struggles--which, with heads covered and arms held close
to their sides, were utterly unavailing--they were caught up, tossed
into the tonneau, and the car shot swiftly away.
In a moment, it was clear of the town, the driver "opened her up," and
they sped through the country at thirty miles an hour.
"Better give them some air," said the leader. "It doesn't matter how
much they yell here."
He had been holding Elaine on his lap, his arms keeping the shawl tight
around her. Now he loosed her, and unwound the folds.
"You will please pardon the liberty we have taken," he said, as he
freed her, "but there are----"
Crack!
Elaine had struck him straight in the face with all her strength, and,
springing free, was on the point of leaping out, when he seized her
and forced her back, caught her arms in the shawl, which was still
around her, and bound them tight to her side.
"Better be a little careful, Bill!" he said. "I got an upper cut on the
jaw that made me see stars."
"I've been very easy with mine," his companion returned. "She'll not
hand me one." However, he took care not to loosen the shawl from her
arms. "There you are, my lady, I hope you've not been greatly
inconvenienced."
"What do you mean by this outrage?" said Davila.
"Don't forget, Bill!--mum's the word!" the chief cautioned.
"At least, you can permit us to sit on the floor of the car," said
Elaine. "Whatever may be your scheme, it's scarcely necessary to hold
us in this disgusting position."
"Will you make no effort to escape?" the chief asked.
"No!"
"I reckon that is a trifle overstated!" he laughed. "What about you,
Miss Carrington?"
Davila did not answer--contenting herself with a look, which was far
more expressive than words.
"Well, we will take pleasure in honoring your first request, Miss
Cavendish."
He caught up a piece of rope, passed it around her arms, outside the
shawl, tied it in a running knot, and quietly lifted her from his lap
to the floor.
"I trust that is satisfactory?" he asked.
"By comparison, eminently so."
"Thank you!" he said. "Do you, Miss Carrington, wish to sit beside your
friend?"
"If you please!" said Davila, with supreme contempt.
He took the rope and tied her, likewise.
"Very good, Bill!" he said, and they placed her beside Elaine.
"If you will permit your legs to be tied, we will gladly let you have
the seat----"
"No!----"
"Well, I didn't think you would--so you will have to remain on the
floor; you see, you might be tempted to jump, if we gave you the
seat."
They were running so rapidly, through the night air, that the country
could scarcely be distinguished, as it rushed by them. To Elaine, it
was an unknown land. Davila, however, was looking for something she
could recognize--some building that she knew, some stream, some
topographical formation. But in the faint and uncertain moonlight,
coupled with the speed at which they travelled, she was baffled. The
chief observed, however.
"With your permission!" he said, and taking two handkerchiefs from his
pocket, he bound the eyes of both.
"It is only for a short while," he explained--"matter of an hour or
so, and you suffer no particular inconvenience, I trust."
Neither Elaine nor Davila condescended to reply.
After a moment's pause, the man went on:
"I neglected to say--and I apologize for my remissness--that you need
fear no ill-treatment. You will be shown every consideration--barring
freedom, of course--and all your wants, within the facilities at our
command, will be gratified. Naturally, however, you will not be
permitted to communicate with your friends."
"How nice of you!" said Elaine. "But I should be better pleased if you
would tell us the reason for this abduction."
"That, I regret, I am not at liberty to discuss."
"How long are we to remain prisoners?" demanded Davila.
"It depends."
"Upon what?"
"Upon whether something is acceded to."
"By whom?"
"I am not at liberty to say."
"And if it is not acceded to?" Elaine inquired.
"In that event--it would be necessary to decide what should be done
with you."
"Done with us! What do you mean to imply?"
"Nothing!--the time hasn't come to imply--I hope it will not come."
"Why?" said Davila.
"Because."
"Because is no reason."
"It is a woman's reason!" said he, laughing lightly.
"Do you mean that your failure would imperil our lives?"
"Something like it?" he replied, after a moment's thought.
"Our lives!" Davila cried. "Do you appreciate what you are saying!"
The man did not answer.
"Is it possible you mean to threaten our lives?" Davila persisted.
"I threaten nothing--yet."
"Oh, you threaten nothing, yet!" she mocked. "But you will threaten,
if----"
"Exactly! if--you are at liberty to guess the rest."
"I don't care to guess!" she retorted. "Do you appreciate that the
whole Eastern Shore will be searching for us by morning--and that, if
the least indignity is offered us, your lives won't be worth a penny?"
"We take the risk, Miss Carrington," replied the man, placidly.
Davila shrugged her shoulders, and they rode in silence, for half an
hour.
Then the speed of the car slackened, they ran slowly for half a mile,
and stopped. The chief reached down, untied the handkerchiefs, and
sprang out.
"You may descend," he said, offering his hand.
Elaine saw the hand, and ignored it; Davila refused even to see the
hand.
They could make out, in the dim light, that they were before a long,
low, frame building, with the waters of the Bay just beyond. A light
burned within, and, as they entered, the odor of cooking greeted them.
"Thank goodness! they don't intend to starve us!" said Elaine. "I
suppose it's scarcely proper in an abducted maiden, but I'm positively
famished."
"I'm too enraged to eat," said Davila.
"Are you afraid?" Elaine asked.
"Afraid?--not in the least!"
"No more am I--but oughtn't we be afraid?"
"I don't know! I'm too angry to know anything."
They had been halted on the porch, while the chief went in, presumably,
to see that all was ready for their reception. Now, he returned.
"If you will come in," he said, "I will show you to your apartment."
"Prison, you mean," said Davila.
"Apartment is a little better word, don't you think?" said he.
"However, as you wish, Miss Carrington, as you wish! We shall try to
make you comfortable, whatever you may call your temporary
quarters.--These two rooms are yours," he continued, throwing open the
door. "They are small, but quiet and retired; you will not, I am sure,
be disturbed. Pardon me, if I remove these ropes, you will be less
hampered in your movements. There! supper will be served in fifteen
minutes--you will be ready?"
"Yes, we shall be ready," said Elaine, and the man bowed and retired.
"He has some manners!" she reflected.
"They might be worse," Davila retorted.
"Which is some satisfaction," Elaine added.
"Yes!--and we best be thankful for it."
"The rooms aren't so bad," said Elaine, looking around.
"We each have a bed, and a bureau, and a wash-stand, and a couple of
chairs, a few chromos, a rug on the floor--and bars at the window."
"I noticed the bars," said Davila.
Elaine crossed to her wash-stand.
"They've provided us with water, so we may as well use it," she said.
"I think my face needs--Heavens! what a sight I am!"
"Haven't you observed the same sight in me?" Davila asked. "I've lost
all my puffs, I know--and so have you--and your hat is a trifle awry."
"Since we're not trying to make an impression, I reckon it doesn't
matter!" laughed Elaine. "We will have ample opportunity to put them to
rights before Colin and Geoffrey see us."
She took off her hat, pressed her hair into shape, replaced a few pins,
dashed water on her face, and washed her hands.
"Now," she said, going into the other room where Miss Carrington was
doing likewise, "if I only had a powder-rag, I'd feel dressed."
Davila turned, and, taking a little book, from the pocket of her coat,
extended it.
"Here is some Papier Poudre," she said.
"You blessed thing!" Elaine exclaimed, and, tearing out a sheet, she
rubbed it over her face. "Is my nose shiny?" she ended.
A door opened and a young girl appeared, wearing apron and cap.
"The ladies are served!" she announced.
The two looked at each other and laughed.
"This is quite some style!" Davila commented.
"It is, indeed!" said Elaine as she saw the table, with its candles and
silver (plated, to be sure), dainty china, and pressed glass.
"If the food is in keeping, I think we can get along for a few days. We
may as well enjoy it while it lasts."