"Yes," said Webb. "Go where the others are going."

"Certainly, sir. And, if you be a stranger, I can tell you most of the
names."

Andrew could have tipped him on the spot. He should be able to identify
those people at last! He felt that he had advanced another step!

"We'll drive slow and meet them on their return," said the driver. He
indicated with a gesture of contempt a passing carriage.

"You see them, sir? They be people that comes to the hotels and goes
away and talks about spending the summer in Newport. But any one could
tell that they're just hotel people, and that the hack is hired. They
don't deceive nobody here."

The words gave Andrew a hint for which he was thankful. He understood
that he must not stay at the hotel. Where should he go, however? He must
take a "cottage," he supposed.

They rolled down a thick-leaved avenue and out over the stubby
sand-hills by the sea. Here and there a large mansion crowned the
heights, and Andrew was glad to see the traditional cottage in full
relief. He paid it scant attention, however. The procession of carriages
had already turned, and his faithful guide uttered many a name which
sounded like old sweet music in his ears. Some of the younger faces were
unfamiliar; but they, too, bore names that the newspapers had made
famous.