“And you saw none?”

“Only a Creole who came down the bayou by boat just as I reached the bank.  He had some message for Coombs—­a snaky-eyed little devil—­but he had nothing to do with the removal of the body, for he was not out of my sight after he landed.”

Bewildered consternation was clearly manifested in the girl’s white face, and yet there was a firmness to the lips that promised anything but surrender.  I was sufficiently a fighting man to comprehend the symptoms, and my own heart throbbed in quick response to her anticipated decision.  For an instant she seemed to struggle to regain her breath.

“Oh, how terrible!  I can scarcely realize that all you have told me can be fact.  It sounds incredible, monstrous.  Why, it is as if we lived in a wild land, and another century.  No novelist could conceive of such a horrible condition.  There were pirates along this coast once—­I have read of them—­but now, in our age of the world, to even dream of such a state of affairs would be madness.  What can it mean?  Have you any theory?”

“Absolutely none; I am groping in the dark, without a single clew.  All I know is that Coombs is a big ruffian, but too cowardly to commit murder.  The Creole might, and I would n’t trust Sallie with a knife on a dark night, but, in my judgment, there are others involved about whom we know nothing.”

“You mean there is a band? that we have stumbled into a rendezvous of outlaws?”

“I suspicion so.  This plantation has been practically abandoned for years.  Even when the Judge was alive he lived in town, and could get no negroes to work out here because they believed the place was haunted.  A bayou comes within a hundred yards of the rear of the house, so concealed by trees and weeds as to be almost invisible until you stand on the banks.  We are only a little over twenty miles from the Gulf.  Altogether this would make an ideal hiding place for Mobile or New Orleans thieves.  I don’t say this is the solution, but it may be.  More likely they will prove to be a local gang, smugglers, or moonshiners with a touch of modern piracy on the side.”

“What do you mean to do?”

The question was asked quietly, and I glanced at her, noting the color had returned to her cheeks.

“I?  Why remain and ferret it out, I suppose,” and I laughed.  “I was never very good at running away, and really I must get at the bottom of this affair.  Coombs is going to have a talk with me later—­intends to make sure who I am, no doubt—­and I may learn something from him during the interview.  Anyhow, I am just obstinate enough to stay it out.”

“What about me?”

“You better return to town; a traveling man on the train said there was a good hotel.  Probably Coombs has some kind of a rig we can drive down in.  I ’ll ask him after breakfast.”

“Is it because you do not wish me with you?”