NOVEMBER JOE
ducks fly in from the tide each evening, and in the fall very fine sport is to be obtained there, the guns often averaging ten and twenty brace of birds, the latter number being the limit permitted to each shooter by the rules. During the season there are generally two or three members at the clubhouse, which, though but a log hut, is warm and comfortable. In fact, the Tamarind Club has a waiting list of those who desire to belong to it quite out of all proportion to its capacity.
All these facts marshalled themselves and passed through my mind as the train rolled on, and at length I said to Joe:—
"Murder done at the Tamarind Club! It seems incredible. It must be that some poacher has shot one of the guides."
"Maybe," said Joe, "but Miss East said 'a matter of life and death'; what can that mean? That's what I'm asking myself. But here we are! It won't be long before we know a bit more."
The cars drew up at the little siding which is situated within a walk of the Tamarind Club. We jumped down just as a girl, possessing dark
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