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Updated: May 24, 2025
Carshaw and Winifred were married quietly. Their honeymoon consisted of the trip to Massachusetts when he began work in the cotton mill. Meiklejohn fulfilled his promise. When the Costa Rica cotton concession reached its zenith he sold out, resigned his seat in the Senate and transferred to Winifred railway cash and gilt-edged bonds to the total value of a half a million dollars.
"Why are you buttin' in?" he cried furiously. "This young lady is a friend of mine. I'm tryin' to pull her out of a difficulty, but she's got me all wrong. Anyhow, what business is it of yours?" Fowle's anger was wasted, since Carshaw seemed not to hear.
Carshaw thanked him, and in a few minutes they were again looking at the tall gate and the dark masses of the garden trees silhouetted against the sky. They had not encountered many wayfarers during their three journeys. The presence of a car at the entrance to such a pretentious place would not attract attention, and the scaling of the wall was only a matter of half a minute.
Then the boy lounged away to the farther end of the room; and suddenly, with a bump, he was on the floor and in the promised fit. "Halloo!" cried Carshaw, while from both Winifred and Rachel came little cries of alarm for a fit has the same effect as a mouse on the nerves of women. "He's in a fit!" screamed the aunt.
"Why on earth doesn't Carshaw marry the girl?" said Clancy. "I dunno. He's straight, isn't he?" "Strikes me that way." "Me, too. Anyhow, let's pick up a few threads. I've a notion that Senator Meiklejohn thinks he has side-stepped the Bureau." Clancy laughed.
"At present, sir, he is not in town." Carshaw made no further inquiry; he knew it was useless. In the morning another telegram: "No news!" He set his teeth, and smilingly agreed to accompany his mother to the lawyers'. She came away in tears. Those serious men strongly approved of her son's project. "Rex has all his father's grit," said the senior partner.
At her request a smart clerk was lent to her for a couple of hours. They consulted various records. The clerk made many notes on foolscap sheets in a large, round hand, and Mrs. Carshaw, seated in the train, read them many times through her gold-mounted lorgnette.
"It would be a sad blow for mother if we were held for furious driving. These blessed machines jump from twelve to forty miles an hour before you can wink twice." Carshaw abated his ardor. Nevertheless, they were in East Orange forty minutes after crossing the ferry. Unhappily, from that hour, the pace slackened. Gateway House had been rented from a New York agent for "Mr. and Mrs.
Just then a bend of the road and a patch of woodland hid the two cars from each other; but they had hardly come out upon a reach of straight road again when another shot was fired. Carshaw, however, was now crouched low over the steering wheel, and using the hood of the car as a breast-work; though, since he was obliged to look out, his head was still more or less exposed.
He looked again at the brown-stone house, but night was closing in so rapidly that he could not distinguish a face at any of the windows. "Let us get there quickly I'll be late for dinner," he said, and the three returned by the way Carshaw had come. Thus it was that Rex Carshaw, eligible young society bachelor, was drawn into the ever-widening vortex of "The Yacht Mystery."
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