"I told you he was a smart n.i.g.g.e.r. Not a word could they get out of him, beyond a general denial of any wrongdoing."

"Dave Campion was at the 'Hundred' the day my father died," said Betty.

"I met him as I was riding down the Green Drive on my way to 'Powersthorp.' I dare say he took the drive in preference to the regular carriage road so as to avoid observation."

"About what time of the day was that?" asked Warriner.

"Close to one o'clock. I was lunching with Hilda Powers, and had been late in starting."

"That's an important point," mused Warriner.

"Do you think I ought to go to the hearing and testify?" continued Betty, evidently troubled.

"Not the least in the world," said Warriner promptly. "Sheriff Greenough may be countrified, but he can see through a grindstone with a hole in it as quickly as the next man. Undoubtedly he knows all about Campion's visit to the 'Hundred' that morning, and has his witnesses to prove it."

Warriner had business farther on, and presently he left us with the understanding that he would be at the magistrate's court at three o'clock. I was rather surprised to hear Betty express a wish to accompany me to Calverton. "Not to the hearing," she explained; "I don't think I could stand that. But I have some shopping to do, and then I'll go to Mary Crandall's for a cup of tea. You can pick me up there."

I felt bound in courtesy to invite Miss Trevor to make one of the party. But she refused, with a curtness that was almost rude. "I shan't waste any time running up blind alleys," she said sharply. "There won't be a shred of direct evidence against Campion, and the Court will be obliged to discharge him."

"But the matchbox," I persisted. "Surely he will have to explain very convincingly how it came to be in his possession."

"Well, you might ask Judge Hendricks why he doesn't read the papers once in a while," replied Miss Trevor, her black eyes snapping and her thin upper lip curling disdainfully. Evidently it was not for me to argue the case any further, and, personally, I was only too pleased that I should now have Betty to myself on the trip to Calverton and back.

Shortly after luncheon we started, Betty driving her own pony pair to a trim basket-phaeton. To think of going anywhere nowadays in other form of conveyance than the gas-wagon! But I fully appreciated the distinction of an equipage really well turned out, and then I was sitting at Betty Graeme's side; yes, I found it all very pleasant.

Arrived at Calverton I dropped Betty at White and Callender's, put up the team at a livery stable, and found my way to Justice Hendricks'

chambers. Warriner joined me a few minutes later, and presently my former acquaintance, Sheriff Greenough, brought in the prisoner and the hearing began.

Dave Campion was a rather good-looking mulatto, keen-eyed, and apparently quite able to take care of his own interests. On being questioned by the judge, he made no secret of his having been at the "Hundred" the morning of June the twenty-first.

"Had you not been warned by Mr. Francis Graeme not to trespa.s.s upon his property?" asked Judge Hendricks.

"Yes, sir."

"Why did you disregard that injunction?"

"I went to the 'Hundred' on business."

"What sort of business?"

"Private, sir. With Mr. Graeme himself."

"Did you see him?"

"No, sir. Marcus, the house-boy, told me that he was at work in the library, and had left orders not to be disturbed."

"Then you were in the house?"

"Yes, sir. I went to the kitchen door, and Marcus took me to the butler's pantry."

"Where was Effingham?"

"At work in the dining room. I didn't see him at all."

"How long were you in the house?"

"About twenty minutes, I should say, sir. It was just quarter after one o'clock when I went away."

"What did you do then?"

"I went to the south lawn, and saw Zack Cameron."

"He bought some article, or articles, from you?"

"Yes, sir."

"How did Mr. Graeme's matchbox come into your possession?"

"I found it in the road nearly opposite S. Saviour's Church?"

"When?"

"About two weeks ago, sir."

"And you came to the 'Hundred' intending to return it to Mr. Graeme?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's all for the present. No; wait a moment. What particular article did you sell to Zack Cameron?"

Campion hesitated for a barely perceptible interval; then he answered steadily: "A pint of whiskey, sir."

"You knew that you were breaking the law?"

"Yes, sir."

On the whole Campion's testimony had been in his favor. His answers had been clear and apparently ingenuous, and his frank admission of the minor offence of illicit liquor selling added weight to his other statements.

Zack Cameron, on being closely interrogated, owned that he had not been entirely truthful about the presence of strangers at the "Hundred" on the morning in question. He admitted that the peddler, Dave Campion, had appeared on the south lawn a few minutes after he and Zeb has started on their post-meridian stint.

"What did you buy of him?"

Zack rolled his eyes, and looked excessively uncomfortable.

"Campion says it was a pint of whiskey. Is that true?"

"Ya.s.sah, dat am puff.e.c.kly c'rect. You see, Boss, I had a toofache----"

"Stand down," ordered the magistrate, and Marcus was called.