In Her Own Right Read online

  VI

  CONFIDENCE AND SCRUPLES

  The next month, to Croyden, went pleasantly enough. He was occupiedwith getting the household machinery to run according to his ideas--andstill retain Moses and Josephine, who, he early discovered, wereinvaluable to him; in meeting the people worth knowing in the town andvicinity, and in being entertained, and entertaining--all very quietlyand without ostentation.

  He had dined, or supped, or played Bridge at all the houses, had givena few small things himself, and ended by paying off all scores with agarden party at Clarendon, which Mrs. Carrington had managed for himwith exquisite taste (and, to him, amazing frugality)--and, morewonderful still, with an entire effacement of _self_. It was Croyden'sparty throughout, though her hand was at the helm, her braindirected--and Hampton never knew.

  And the place _had_ looked attractive; with the house set in its widesweep of velvety lawn amid great trees and old-fashioned flowers andhedges. With the furniture cleaned and polished, the old chinascattered in cupboard and on table, the portraits and commissionsfreshly dusted, the swords glistening as of yore.

  And in that month, Croyden had come to like Hampton immensely. Theabsence, in its society, of all attempts at show, to make-believe, toimpress, to hoodwink, was refreshingly novel to him, who, hitherto, hadknown it only as a great sham, a huge affectation, with every onestriving to outdo everyone else, and all as hollow as a rotten gourd.

  He had not got used, however, to the individual espionage of thecountry town--the habit of watching one's every movement, and tellingit, and drawing inferences therefrom--inferences tinctured according tothe personal feelings of the inferer.

  He learned that, in three weeks, they had him "taken" with everyeligible girl in town, engaged to four and undecided as to two more.They busied themselves with his food,--they nosed into his drinks, hiscigars, his cigarettes, his pipes,--they bothered themselves about hismeal hours,--they even inspected his wash when it hung on the line!Some of them, that is. The rest were totally different; they let everyone alone. They did not intrude nor obtrude--they went their way, andpermitted every one to go his.

  So much had been the way of Northumberland, so much he had been used toalways. But--and here was the difference from Northumberland, the vitaldifference, indeed--they were interested in you, if _you_ wished themto be--and it was genuine interest, not pretense. This, and the waythey had treated him as one of them, because Colonel Duval had beenhis father's friend, made Croyden feel very much at home.

  At intervals, he had taken old Parmenter's letter from its secretdrawer, and studied it, but he had been so much occupied with gettingacquainted, that he had done nothing else. Moreover, there was nopressing need for haste. If the treasure had kept on Greenberry Pointfor one hundred and ninety years, it would keep a few months longer.Besides, he was a bit uncertain whether or not he should confide insomeone, Captain Carrington or Major Borden. He would doubtless needanother man to help him, even if the location should be easilydetermined, which, however, was most unlikely. For him, alone, to goprying about on Greenberry Point, would surely occasion comment andarouse suspicion--which would not be so likely if there were two ofthem, and especially if one were a well-known resident of Maryland.

  He finally determined, however, to go across to Annapolis and look overthe ground, before he disclosed the secret to any one. Which was thereasonable decision.

  When he came to look up the matter of transportation, however, he wassurprised to find that no boat ran between Annapolis and Hampton--orany other port on the Eastern Shore. He either had to go by water toBaltimore (which was available on only three days a week) and thencefinish his journey by rail or transfer to another boat, or else he hadto go by steam cars north to Wilmington, and then directly south againto Annapolis. In either case, a day's journey between two towns thatwere almost within seeing distance of each other, across the Bay. Ofthe two, he chose to go by boat to Baltimore.

  Then, the afternoon of the day before it sailed, he received awire--delivered two hours and more after its receipt, in the leisurelyfashion of the Eastern Shore. It was from Macloud, and datedPhiladelphia.

  "Can I come down to-night? Answer to Bellevue-Stratford."

  His reply brought Macloud in the morning train.

  Croyden met him at the station. Moses took his bag, and they walked outto Clarendon.

  "Sorry I haven't a car!" said Croyden--then he laughed. "The truth is,Colin, they're not popular down here. The old families won't havethem--they're innovations--the saddle horse and the family carriage arestill to the fore with them. Only the butcher, and the baker and thecandlestick maker have motors. There's one, now--he's the candlestickmaker, I think. This town is nothing if not conservative. It reminds meof the one down South, where they wouldn't have electric cars. Finallyall the street car horses died. Then rather than commit the awful sinof letting _new_ horses come into the city, they accepted the trolley.The fashion suits my pocketbook, however, so I've no kick coming."

  "What do you want with a car here, anyway?" Macloud asked. "It looks asif you could walk from one end of the town to the other in fifteenminutes."

  "You can, easily."

  "And the baker et cetera have theirs only for show, I suppose?"

  "Yes, that's about it--the roads, hereabout, are sandy and poor."

  "Then, I'm with your old families. They may be conservative, at times atrifle too much so, but, in the main, their judgment's pretty reliable,according to conditions. What sort of place did you find--I mean thehouse?"

  "Very fair!"

  "And the society?"

  "Much better than Northumberland."

  "Hum--I see--the aristocracy of birth, not dollars."

  "Exactly!--How do you do, Mr. Fitzhugh," as they passed a policeman inuniform.

  "Good morning, Mr. Croyden!" was the answer.

  "There! that illustrates," said Croyden. "You meet Fitzhugh every placewhen he is off duty. He _belongs_. His occupation does not figure, inthe least."

  "So you like it--Hampton, I mean?" said Macloud.

  "I've been here a month--and that month I've enjoyed--thoroughlyenjoyed. However, I do miss the Clubs and their life."

  "I can understand," Macloud interjected.

  "And the ability to get, instantly, anything you want----"

  "Much of which you don't want--and wouldn't get, if you had to writefor it, or even to walk down town for it--which makes for economy,"observed Macloud sententiously.

  "But, more than either, I miss the personal isolation which one canhave in a big town, when he wishes it--and has always, in somedegree."

  "And _that_ gets on your nerves!" laughed Macloud. "Well, you won'tmind it after a while, I think. You'll get used to it, and be quiteoblivious. Is that all your objections?"

  "I've been here only a short time, remember. Come back in six months,say, and I may have kicks in plenty."

  "You may find it a bit dreary in winter--who the deuce is that girlyonder, Geoffrey?" he broke off.

  They were opposite Carrington's, and down the walk toward the gate wascoming the maid of the blue-black hair, and slender ankles. She wore ablue linen gown, a black hat, and her face was framed by a white silkparasol.

  "That is Miss Carrington," said Croyden.

  "Hum!--Your house near here?"

  "Yes--pretty near."

  Macloud looked at him with a grin.

  "She has nothing to do with your liking the town, I suppose?" he said,knowingly.

  "Well, she's not exactly a deterrent--and there are half a dozen moreof the same sort. Oh, on that score, Hampton's not half bad, myfriend!" he laughed.

  "You mean there are half a dozen of _that_ sort," with a slight jerk ofhis head toward Miss Carrington, "who are unmarried?"

  Croyden nodded--then looked across; and both men raised their hats andbowed.

  "And how many married?" Macloud queried.

  "Several--but you let them _alone_--it's not fashionable here, as yet,for a pretty married woman
to have an affair. She loves her husband, oracts it, at least. They're neither prudes nor prigs, but they are not_that_."

  "So far as you know!" laughed Macloud. "But my experience has been thatthe pretty married woman who won't flirt, if occasion offers wherethere is no danger of being compromised, is a pretty scarce article.However, Hampton may be an exception."

  "You're too cynical," said Croyden. "We turn in here--this isClarendon."

  "Why! you beggar!" Macloud exclaimed. "I've been sympathizing withyou, because I thought you were living in a shack-of-a-place--and,behold!"

  "Yes, it is not bad," said Croyden. "I've no ground for complaint, onthat head. I can, at least, be comfortable here. It's not bad inside,either."

  That evening, after dinner, when the two men were sitting in thelibrary while a short-lived thunder storm raged outside, Macloud, aftera long break in the conversation--which is the surest sign ofcamaraderie among men--observed, apropos of nothing except the talk ofthe morning:

  "Lord! man, you've got no kick coming!"

  "Who said I had?" Croyden demanded.

  "You did, by damning it with faint praise."

  "Damning what?"

  "Your present environment--and yet, look you! A comfortable house, finegrounds, beautiful old furnishings, delicious victuals, and two negroservants, who are devoted to you, or the place--no matter which, for itassures their permanence; the one a marvelous cook, the other acompetent man; and, by way of society, a lot of fine, old antebellumfamilies, with daughters like the Symphony in Blue, we saw thismorning. God! you're hard to please."

  "And that is not all," said Croyden, laughing and pointing to theportraits. "I've got ancestors--by purchase."

  "And you have come by them clean-handed, which is rare.--Moreover, Ifancy you are one who has them by inheritance, as well."

  Croyden nodded. "I'm glad to say I have--ancestors are distinctlyfashionable down here. But _that's_ not all I've got."

  "There is only one thing more--money," said Macloud. "You haven't foundany of it down here, have you?"

  "That is just what I don't know," Croyden replied, tossing away hiscigarette, and crossing to the desk by the window. "It depends--onthis." He handed the Parmenter letter to Macloud. "Read it through--theendorsements last, in their order--and then tell me what you think ofit."...

  "These endorsements, I take it," said Macloud, "though without date andsigned only with initials, were made by the original addressee,Marmaduke Duval, his son, who was presumably Daniel Duval, and DanielDuval's son, Marmaduke; the rest, of course, is plain."

  "That is correct," Croyden answered. "I have made inquiries--ColonelDuval's father was Marmaduke, whose son was Daniel, whose son wasMarmaduke, the addressee."

  "Then why isn't it true?" Macloud demanded.

  "My dear fellow, I'm not denying it! I simply want your opinion--whatto do?"

  "Have you shown this letter to anyone else?"

  "No one."

  "Well, you're a fool to show it even to me. What assurance have youthat, when I leave here, I won't go straight to Annapolis and stealyour treasure?"

  "No assurance, except a lamblike trust in your friendship," saidCroyden, with an amused smile.

  "Your recent experience with Royster & Axtell and the Heights shouldbeget confidences of this kind?" he said sarcastically, tapping theletter the while. "You trust too much in friendship, Croyden. Tests ofhalf a million dollars aren't human!" Then he grinned. "I alwaysthought there was something God-like about me. So, maybe, you're safe.But it was a fearful risk, man, a fearful risk!" He looked at theletter again. "Sure, it's true! The man to whom it was addressedbelieved it--else why did he endorse it to his son? And we can assumethat Daniel Duval knew his father's writing, and accepted it.--Oh, it'sgenuine enough. But to prove it, did you identify Marmaduke Duval'swriting--any papers or old letters in the house?"

  "I don't know," returned Croyden. "I'll ask Moses to-morrow."

  "Better not arouse his curiosity--darkies are most inquisitive, youknow--where did you find the letter?"

  Croyden showed him the secret drawer.

  "Another proof of its genuineness," said Macloud. "Have you made anyeffort to identify this man Parmenter--from the records atAnnapolis."

  "No--I've done nothing but look at the letter--except to trace theDuval descent," Croyden replied.

  "He speaks, here, of his last will and testament being left with Mr.Dulany. If it were probated, that will establish Parmenter, especiallyif Marmaduke Duval is the legatee. What do you know of Annapolis?"

  "Nothing! I never was there--I looked it up on the map I found, here,and Greenberry Point is as the letter says--across the Severn Riverfrom it."

  Macloud laughed, in good-natured raillery.

  "You seem to have been in a devil of a hurry!" he said. "At the samerate of progression, you will go to Annapolis some time next spring,and get over to Greenberry Point about autumn."

  "On the contrary, it's your coming that delayed me," Croyden smiled."But for your wire, I would have started this morning--now, if you willaccompany me, we'll go day-after-to-morrow."

  "Why delay?" said Macloud. "Why not go to-night?"

  "It's a long journey around the Bay by rail--I'd rather cross to Baltimoreby boat; from there it's only an hour's ride to Annapolis by electriccars. And there isn't any boat sailing until day-after-to-morrow."

  "Where's the map?" said Macloud. "Let me see where we are, and whereAnnapolis is.... Hum! we're almost opposite! Can't we get a boat inthe morning to take us across direct--charter it, I mean? TheChesapeake isn't wide at this point--a sailing vessel ought to make itin a few hours."

  "I'll go you!" exclaimed Croyden. He went to the telephone and calledup Dick. "This is Geoffrey Croyden!" he said.--"I've a friend who wantsto go across the Bay to Annapolis, in the morning. Where can I find outif there is a sailing vessel, or a motor boat, obtainable?... what'sthat you say?... Miles Casey?--on Fleet Street, near the wharf?...Thank you!--He says," turning to Macloud, "Casey will likely takeus--he has a fishing schooner and it is in port. He lives on FleetStreet--we will walk down, presently, and see him."

  Macloud nodded assent, and fell to studying the directions again.Croyden returned to his chair and smoked in silence, waiting for hisfriend to conclude. At length, the latter folded the letter and lookedup.

  "It oughtn't to be hard to find," he observed.

  "Not if the trees are still standing, and the Point is in the sameplace," said Croyden. "But we're going to find the Point shifted aboutninety degrees, and God knows how many feet, while the trees will havelong since disappeared."

  "Or the whole Point may be built over with houses!" Macloud responded."Why not go the whole throw-down at once--make it impossible torecover rather than only difficult to locate!" He made a gesture ofdisbelief. "Do you fancy that the Duvals didn't keep an eye onGreenberry Point?--that they wouldn't have noted, in theirendorsements, any change in the ground? So it's clear, in my mind,that, when Colonel Duval transferred this letter to you, the Parmentertreasure could readily be located."

  "I'm sure I shan't object, in the least, if we walk directly to thespot, and hit the box on the third dig of the pick!" laughed Croyden."But let us forget the old pirate, until to-morrow; tell me aboutNorthumberland--it seems a year since I left! When one goes away forgood and all, it's different, you know, from going away for thesummer."

  "And you think you have left it for good and all?" asked Macloud,blowing a smoke-ring and watching him with contemplative eyes--"Well,the place is the same--only more so. A good many people have come back.The Heights is more lively than when you left, teas, and dinners, andtournaments and such like.--In town, the Northumberland's resuming itsregulars--the theatres are open, and the Club has taken the bald-headedrow on Monday nights as usual. Billy Cain has turned up engaged, alsoas usual--this time, it's a Richmond girl, 'regular screamer,' he says.It will last the allotted time, of course--six weeks was the limit forthe last two, you'll remember. Smythe put it all over Li
ttle in thetennis tournament, and 'Pud' Lester won the golf championship. Terry'shorse, _Peach Blossom_, fell and broke its neck in the high jump, atthe Horse Show; Terry came out easier--he broke only his collar-bone.Mattison is the little bounder he always was--a month hasn't changedhim--except for the worse. Hungerford is a bit sillier. Colloden is thesame bully fellow; he is disconsolate, now, because he is beginning totake on flesh." Whereat both laughed. "Danridge is back from the NorthCape, via Paris, with a new drink he calls _The Spasmodic_--it's madeof gin, whiskey, brandy, and absinthe, all in a pint of sarsaparilla.He says it's great--I've not sampled it, but judging from those whohave he is drawing it mild.... Betty Whitridge and Nancy Wellesly haveorganized a Sinners Class, prerequisites for membership in which arethat you play Bridge on Sundays and have abstained from church for atleast six months. It's limited to twenty. They filled it the firstmorning, and have a waiting list of something over seventy-five....That is about all I can think of that's new."

  "Has any one inquired about me?" Croyden asked--with the lingeringdesire one has not to be forgot.

  Macloud shot a questioning glance at him.

  "Beyond the fact that the bankruptcy schedules show you were prettyhard hit, I've heard no one comment," he said. "They think you're inEurope. Elaine Cavendish is sponsor for that report--she says you toldher you were called, suddenly, abroad."

  Croyden nodded. Then, after a pause:

  "Any one inclined to play the devoted, there?" he asked.

  "Plenty inclined--plenty anxious," replied Macloud. "I'm looking a bitthat way myself--I may get into the running, since you are out of it,"he added.

  Croyden made as though to speak, then bit off the words.

  "Yes, I'm out of it," he said shortly.

  "But you're not out of it--if you find the pirate's treasure."

  "Wait until I find it--at present, I'm only an 'also ran.'"

  "Who had the field, however, until withdrawn," said Macloud.

  "Maybe!" Croyden laughed. "But things have changed with me, Macloud;I've had time for thought and meditation. I'm not sure I should go backto Northumberland, even if the Parmenter jewels are real. Had I stayedthere I suppose I should have taken my chance with the rest, but I'mbecoming doubtful, recently, of giving such hostages to fortune. It'sall right for a woman to marry a rich man, but it is a totallydifferent proposition for a poor man to marry a rich woman. Even withthe Parmenter treasure, I'd be poor in comparison with Elaine Cavendishand her millions--and I'm afraid the sweet bells would soon be janglingout of tune."

  "Would you condemn the girl to spinsterhood, because there are few menin Northumberland, or elsewhere, who can match her in wealth?"

  "Not at all! I mean, only, that the man should be able to support heraccording to her condition in life.--In other words, pay all the bills,without drawing on her fortune."

  "Those views will never make you the leader of a popular propaganda!"said Macloud, with an amused smile. "In fact, you're alone in thewoods."

  "Possibly! But the views are not irrevocable--I may change, you know.In the meantime, let us go down to Fleet Street and interview Casey.And then, if you're good, I'll take you to call on Miss Carrington."

  "The Symphony in Blue!" exclaimed Macloud. "Come along, man, comealong!"