Her cheeks flamed.

“That depends,” she replied; “I had excellent training.  The marvel is even greater than you suppose, for behold this case also filled with necessities.  Is this our train?”

“Yes,” and I took up the grip she designated as hers.  “Let us get settled and into the diner, for I am hungry as a wolf.”

I had procured opposite sections, and, before retiring, we studied the papers, together with Vail’s letter of instruction, and thus came to a complete understanding.  She was quick-witted, and spoke frankly, and yet, when I finally lay down in my berth I felt less well acquainted with her than before.  Somehow, in a manner inexplainable, a vague barrier had arisen between us.  I could not trace it to any word or action on her part, and yet I felt held away as by an invisible hand.  Her very cordiality exhibited a reserve which made me clearly comprehend that the slightest familiarity would be checked.  Evidently she had determined coolly to carry out the deceit, to act her part to perfection, because of the reward, and she meant I should comprehend her exact position.  I fell asleep dissatisfied, half believing she was also playing a part with me, although it was impossible to conceive her purpose.  The conception even came that she was herself an adventuress, yet I throttled the thought instantly, unwilling to harbor it.

It was at the close of the following afternoon when our train reached Carrollton.  The depot must have been a mile from the town, and very few people were upon the platform, two drummers and ourselves the only ones to disembark.  The traveling men hastened to the nearest hack, while I glanced about in search of a conveyance.  The only other vehicle present was a two-seated surrey, driven by a rather disreputable negro.  I approached in some doubt.

“No, sah,” he said, grinning.  “Dis yere am my own curridge, sah; tain’t nuthin’ ter do wid de Henley plantation.  I reckon dey done did n’t git no telegram.  Dey sure did n’t less dey wus oxpectin’ one, an’ cum inter town after it.  Yes, sah, I know whar de place am all right.  I done worked dar onct.  I reckon you ’se Massa Philip Henley, sah; though you ‘ve sure growd some since I saw you de las’ time.  I ‘se ol’ Pete, sah; I reckon you remembers ol’ Pete.”

“Of course I do,” I returned heartily, encouraged by his words to believe I would pass muster.  “Can you drive us out?”

The negro scratched his head.

“I reckon as how I can, sah, leastwise so far as ther gate.  It’s going to be plum dark when we gits dar, an’ dis nigger don’t fool round dar none in de dark.”

“Why, what’s the trouble, Pete?”

“Cause ol’ Massa Henley’s ghost was hangin’ round, sah.  I ain’t nebber seen it myself, an’ I don’t want to, for he was sure bad ’nough alive, but dar ’s niggers what has.”

“Oh, pshaw,” I laughed, turning toward the silent girl.  “We will risk the ghost if you ’ll drive us out.  Put in the grips.”