"Ostensibly so," nodded Warriner, "but his real business is bootlegging." "You mean whiskey?" "Yes, and worse. You have heard of 'coke'?" "Cocaine powder?" "Yes." "'Happy dust' the darkies call it," added Betty. "Last month father forbade Campion to ever come on the place again." Warriner looked interested. "I suppose Campion resented the exclusion," he remarked. But on this point Betty could say nothing; Mr. Graeme had merely told her that the negro peddler had been warned off the "Hundred" property. "He is a smart nigger," explained Warriner. "And so light in color that you would hardly suspect the dash of the tar brush, as the English say. He was educated at Hampton-Sidney, and talks just like a white man--rather proud of it, too--but worthless in every way, and a menace to the community." "Education then isn't any guarantee of morality among the negroes," I observed. "Why should it be any more than with our own class?" retorted Warriner. "No, Campion is a bad nigger, and even Hampton-Sidney couldn't make him over." "But about the arrest?" I urged. "The fellow was drunk last night, and openly displayed a handsome matchbox; gold with a turquoise set in the spring knob. Several persons recognized it as belonging to Mr. Francis Graeme; in fact, it bore his initials. The police were informed, and the arrest followed." "No explanations were made, I suppose." "I told you he was a smart nigger. 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."