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THE FOUR-POOLS
MYSTERY





In the Cave


THE FOUR-POOLS
MYSTERY
NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
1908


Copyright, 1907, 1908, by
THE CENTURY Co.
Published, March, 1908
THE DE WINNE PRE88


CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I INTRODUCING TERRY PATTEN .
II I ARRIVE AT Four-Pools PLANTATION .
III I MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF THE
HA’NT
IV THE HA’NT GROws MYSTERIOUs .
v CAT-EYE MosB CREATES A SENSATION .
VI WE SEND FOR A DETECTIVE
vII WE SEND HIM BACK AGAIN . . .
VIII THE ROBBERY REMAINs A MYSTERY
Ix THE EXPEDITION To LURAY . . .
x THE TRAGEDY oE THE CAVE . .
XI THE SHERIFF VISITs Four-Pools
XII IMAKE A PROMISE To PolIY .
XIII THE INQUEST • • • • • e -
XIV THE JURY’s VERDICT . . . . .
V
PAGE
14
26
39
58
76
92
108
119
135
143
151
168
186


CONTENTS
xv FALSE CLUEs .
xv1 TERRY CoMEs
xv.11 WE SEARCH THE ABANDoNED CABINs
xv.111 TERRY ARRIVEs ATA CoNCLUSION
XIX TERRY FINDS THE BONDs .
xx Pol.I.Y MAKES A CoNFESSION .
XXI MR. TERENCE KIRKwooD PATTEN OF
NEW YORK
xxII THE DISCOVERY OF CAT-EYE MosE .
xxIII MOSE TELLs HIS STORY
xxIV PoDLY MAKES A PROPosAL.
PAGE
196
206
222
247
262
271
285
296
314
329


THE FOUR-POOLS
MYSTERY





THE FOUR-POOLS
MYSTERY
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCING TERRY PATTEN
gery case that I first made the acquaint-
ance of Terry Patten, and at the time I
should have been more than willing to forego
the pleasure.
Our firm rarely dealt with criminal cases,
but the Patterson family were long standing
clients, and they naturally turned to us when
the trouble came. Ordinarily, so important a
matter would have been put in the hands of
one of the older men, but it happened that I
was the one who had drawn up the will for
I' was through the Patterson-Pratt for-
[3]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
Patterson Senior the night before his suicide,
therefore the brunt of the work devolved
upon me. The most unpleasant part of the
whole affair was the notoriety. Could we
have kept it from the papers, it would not
have been so bad, but that was a physical im-
possibility; Terry Patten was on our track,
and within a week he had brought down upon
us every newspaper in New York.
The first I ever heard of Terry, a card was
sent in bearing the inscription, “Mr. Terence
K. Patten,” and in the lower left-hand corner,
“of the Post-Dispatch.” I shuddered as I
read it. The Post-Dispatch was at that
time the yellowest of the yellow journals.
While I was still shuddering, Terry walked
in through the door the office boy had inad-
vertently left open.
He nodded a friendly good morning,
helped himself to a chair, tossed his hat and
gloves upon the table, crossed his legs com-
fortably, and looked me over. I returned the
scrutiny with interest while I was mentally
framing a polite formula for getting rid of
him without giving rise to any ill feeling. I
[4]


INTRODUCING TERRY PATTEN
had no desire to annoy unnecessarily any of
the Post-Dispatch's young men.
At first sight my caller did not strike me as
unlike a dozen other reporters. His face was
the face one feels he has a right to expect of a
newspaper man—keen, alert, humorous; on
the look-out for opportunities. But with a
second glance I commenced to feel interested.
I wondered where he had come from and
what he had done in the past. His features
were undeniably Irish; but that which chiefly
awakened my curiosity, was his expression. It
was not only wide-awake and intelligent; it
was something more. “Knowing” one would
say. It carried with it the mark of experience,
the indelible stamp of the street. He was a
man who has had no childhood, whose educa-
tion commenced from the cradle.
I did not arrive at all of these conclusions
at once, however, for he had finished his in-
spection before I had fairly started mine.
Apparently he found me satisfactory. The
smile which had been lurking about the cor-
ners of his mouth broadened to a grin, and
I commenced wondering uncomfortably what
[5]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
there was funny about my appearance. Then
suddenly he leaned forward and began
talking in a quick, eager way, that required
all my attention to keep abreast of him.
After a short preamble in which he set forth
his view of the Patterson-Pratt case—and a
clearsighted view it was—he commenced ask-
ing questions. They were such amazingly
impudent questions that they nearly took my
breath away. But he asked them in a manner
so engagingly innocent that I found myself
answering them before I was aware of it.
There was a confiding air of bonne camara-
derie about the fellow which completely put
one off one's guard.
At the end of fifteen minutes he was on the
inside track of most of my affairs, and was
giving me advice through a kindly desire to
keep me from getting things in a mess. The
situation would have struck me as ludicrous
had I stopped to think of it; but it is a fact
I have noted since, that, with Terry, one does
not appreciate situations until it is too late.
When he had got from me as much in-
formation as I possessed, he shook hands cor-
[6]


INTRODUCING TERRY PATTEN
dially, said he was happy to have made my
acquaintance, and would try to drop in again
some day. After he had gone, and I had had
time to review our conversation, I began to
grow hot over the matter. I grew hotter still
when I read his report in the paper the next
morning. I could not understand why I had
not kicked him out at first sight, and I sin-
cerely hoped that he would drop in again, that
I might avail myself of the opportunity.
He did drop in, and I received him with the
utmost cordiality. There was something en-
tirely disarming about Terry's impudence.
And so it went. He continued to comment
upon the case in the most sensational manner
possible, and I railed against him and forgave
him with unvarying regularity. In the end
we came to be quite friendly over the affair.
I found him diverting at a time when I was
in need of diversion, though just what attrac-
tion he found in me, I have never been able to
fathom. It was certainly not that he saw a
future source of “stories,” for he frankly re-
garded corporation law as a pursuit devoid of
interest. Criminal law was the one branch
[7]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
of the profession for which he felt any
respect.
We frequently had lunch together; or
breakfast, in his case. His day commenced
about noon and lasted till three in the morn-
ing. “Well, Terry, what 's the news at the
morgue today?” I would inquire as we settled
ourselves at the table. And Terry would rat-
tle off the details of the latest murder mystery
with a cheerfully matter-of-fact air that
would have been disgusting had it not been so
funny.
It was at this time that I learned his history
prior to the days of the Post-Dispatch. He
was entirely frank about himself, and if one
half of his stories were true, he has achieved
some amazing adventures. I strongly sus-
pected at times that the reporting instinct got
ahead of the facts, and that he embroidered
incidents as he went along.
His father, Terry Senior, had been an Irish
politician of considerable ability and some
prominence on the East River side of the city.
The boy's early education had been picked up
in the streets (his father had got the truant
[8]


INTRODUCING TERRY PATTEN
officer his position) and it was thorough.
Later he had received a more theoretical train-
ing in the University of New York, but I
think it was his early education which stuck
by him longest, and which, in the end, was
probably the more useful of the two. Armed
with this equipment, it was inevitable that he
should develop into a star reporter. Not only
did he write his news in an entertaining form,
but he first made the news he wrote about.
When any sensational crime had been
committed which puzzled the police, Terry
had an annoying way of solving the mys-
tery himself, and publishing the full partic-
ulars in the Post-Dispatch with the glory
blatantly attributed to “our reporter.” The
paper was fully aware that Terence K.
Patten was an acquisition to its staff. It had
sent him on various commissions to various
entertaining quarters of the globe, and in the
course of his duty he had encountered expe-
riences. One is forced to admit that he was
not always fastidious as to the rôle he played.
He had cruised about the Mediterranean as
assistant cook on a millionaire's yacht, and
[9]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
had listened to secrets between meals. He
had wandered about the country with a
monkey and a hand-organ in search of a
peddler he suspected of a crime. He
had helped along a revolution in South
America, and had gone up in a captive
war balloon which had broken loose and
floated off.
But all this is of no concern at present.
I am merely going to chronicle his achieve-
ment in one instance—in what he himself has
always referred to as the “Four-Pools Mys-
tery.” It has already been written up in re-
porter style as the details came to light from
day to day. But a ten-year-old newspaper
story is as dead as if it were written on parch-
ment, and since the part Terry played was
rather remarkable, and many of the details
were at the time suppressed, I think it de-
serves a more permanent form.
It was through the Patterson-Pratt busi-
ness by a roundabout way that I got mixed
up in the Four-Pools affair. I had been
working very hard over the forgery case; I
spent every day on it for nine weeks—and
[10]


INTRODUCING TERRY PATTEN
nearly every night. I got into the way of
lying awake, puzzling over the details, when
I should have been sleeping, and that is the
sort of work which finishes a man. By the
middle of April, when the strain was over, I
was as near being a nervous wreck as an ordi-
narily healthy chap can get.
At this stage my doctor stepped in and or-
dered a rest in some quiet place out of reach
of the New York papers; he suggested a
fishing expedition to Cape Cod. I apathet-
ically fell in with the idea, and invited Terry
to join me. But he jeered at the notion of
finding either pleasure or profit in any such
trip. It was too far from the center of crime
to contain any interest for Terry.
“Heavens, man! I’d as lief spend a vaca-
tion in the middle of the Sahara Desert.”
“Oh, the fishing would keep things going,”
I said.
“Fishing! We'd die of ennui before we
had a bite. I’d be murdering you at the end
of the first week just for some excitement.
If you need a rest—and you are rather seedy
—forget all about this Patterson business and
[11]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
plunge into something new. The best rest in
the world is a counter-irritant.”
This was Terry all over; he himself was
utterly devoid of nerves, and he could not
appreciate the part they played in a man of
normal make-up. My being threatened with
nervous prostration he regarded as a joke.
His pleasantries rather damped my interest
in deep-sea fishing, however, and I cast about
for something else. It was at this juncture
that I thought of Four-Pools Plantation.
“Four-Pools” was the somewhat fantastic
name of a stock farm in the Shenandoah Val-
ley, belonging to a great-uncle whom I had
not seen since I was a boy.
A few months before, I had had occasion to
settle a little legal matter for Colonel Gay-
lord (he was a colonel by courtesy; so far as
I could discover he had never had his hands on
a gun except for rabbit shooting) and in the
exchange of amenities which followed, he had
given me a standing invitation to make the
plantation my home whenever I should have
occasion to come South. As I had no pros-
pect of leaving New York, I thought nothing
[12]


INTRODUCING TERRY PATTEN
of it at the time; but now I determined to take
the old gentleman at his word, and spend my
enforced vacation in getting acquainted with
my Virginia relatives.
This plan struck Terry as just one degree
funnier than the fishing expedition. The doc-
tor, however, received the idea with enthu-
siasm. A farm, he said, with plenty of out-
door life and no excitement, was just the
thing I needed. But could he have foreseen
the events which were to happen there, I
doubt if he would have recommended the
place for a nervous man.
[13]


CHAPTER II
I ARRIVE AT FOUR-POOLS PLANTATION
S I rolled southward in the train—
A “jerked” would be a fitter word; the
roadbeds of western Virginia are
anything but level—I strove to recall my old
time impressions of Four-Pools Plantation.
It was one of the big plantations in that part
of the state, and had always been noted for its
hospitality. My vague recollection of the
place was a kaleidoscopic vision of music and
dancing and laughter, set in the moonlit back-
ground of the Shenandoah Valley. I knew,
however, that in the eighteen years since my
boyhood visit everything had changed.
News had come of my aunt's death, and of
Nan's runaway marriage against her father's
wishes, and of how she too had died without
ever returning home. Poor unhappy Nannie!
I was but a boy of twelve when I had seen her
[14]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
shouldered young man of twenty-three or
thereabouts, came forward to meet me. I
should have recognized him for Radnor any-
where, so striking was his resemblance to the
brother I had known. He wore a loose flannel
shirt and a broad-brimmed felt hat cocked on
one side, and he looked so exactly the typical
Southern man of the stage that I almost
laughed as I greeted him. His welcome was
frank and cordial and I liked him from the
first. He asked after my health with an
amused twinkle in his eyes. Nervous prostra-
tion evidently struck him as humorously as it
did Terry. Lest I resent his apparent lack of
sympathy however, he added, with a hearty
whack on my shoulder, that I had come to the
right place to get cured.
A drive over sweet smelling country roads
behind blooded horses was a new experience
to me, fresh from city streets and the rumble
of elevated trains. I leaned back with a sigh
of content, feeling already as if I had got my
boyhood back again. -
Radnor enlivened the three miles with sto-
ries of the houses we passed and the people
[16]


FOUR-POOLS PLANTATION
who lived in them, and to my law-abiding
Northern ears, the recital indubitably smacked
of the South. This old gentleman—so Rad
called him—had kept an illicit still in his
cellar for fifteen years, and it had not been
discovered until after his death (of delirium
tremens). The young lady who lived in that
house—one of the belles of the county—had
eloped with the best man on the night before
the wedding and the rightful groom had shot
himself. The one who lived here had eloped
with her father's overseer, and had rowed
across the river in the only available boat, leav-
ing her outraged parent on the opposite bank.
I finally burst out laughing.
“Does everyone in the South run away to
get married? Don’t you ever have any legiti-
mate weddings with cake and rice and old
shoes?” As I spoke I remembered Nannie.
and wondered if I had touched on a delicate
subject.
But Radnor returned my laugh.
“We do have a good many elopements,” he
acknowledged. “Maybe there are more cruel
parents in the South.” Then he suddenly
2 [17]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
sobered. “I suppose you remember Nan?” he
inquired with an air of hesitation.
“A little,” I assented.
“Poor girl!” he said. “I’m afraid she had
a pretty tough time. You’d best not mention
her to the old gentleman—or Jeff either.”
“Does the Colonel still feel hard toward
them?” -
Radnor frowned slightly.
“He does n’t forgive,” he returned.
“What was the trouble with Jeff?” I Ven-
tured. “I have never heard any particulars.”
“He and my father did n’t agree. I don’t
remember very much about it myself; I was
only thirteen when it happened. But I know
there was the devil of a row.”
“Do you know where he is?” I asked.
Radnor shook his head.
“I sent him some money once or twice, but
my father found it out and shut down on my
bank account. I’ve losttrack of him lately—he
isn’t in need of money though. The last Iheard
he was running a gambling place in Seattle.”
“It’s a great pity!” I sighed. “He was a
fine chap when I knew him.”
[18]


FOUR-POOLS PLANTATION
Radnor echoed my sigh but he did not
choose to follow up the subject, and we passed
the rest of the way in silence until we turned
into the lane that led to Four-Pools. After
the manner of many Southern places the
house was situated well toward the middle of
the large plantation, and entirely out of sight
from the road. The private lane which led to
it was bordered by a hawthorn hedge, and
wound for half a mile or so between pastures
and flowering peach orchards. I delightedly
breathed in the fresh spring odors, wondering
meanwhile how it was that I had let that
happy Virginia summer of my boyhood slip
so entirely from my mind.
As we rounded a clump of willow trees we
came in sight of the house, set on a little rise
of ground and approached by a rolling sweep
of lawn. It was a good example of colonial—
white with green blinds, the broad brick
floored veranda, which extended the length of
the front, supported by lofty Doric columns.
On the south side a huge curved portico
bulged out to meet the driveway. Stretching
away behind the house was a sleepy box-bor-
[19]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
dered garden, and behind this, screened by a
row of evergreens, were clustered the barns
and out-buildings. Some little distance to the
left, in a slight hollow and half hidden by an
overgrowth of laurels, stood a row of one-
story weather-beaten buildings—the old negro
cabins, left over from the slave days.
“It’s just as I remember it!” I exclaimed
delightedly as I noted one familiar object
after another. “Nothing has changed.”
“Nothing does change in the South,” said
Radnor, “except the people, and I suppose
they change everywhere.” -
“And those are the deserted negro cabins?”
I added, my eye resting on the cluster of gray
roofs showing above the shrubbery.
“Just at present they are not so deserted as
we should like,” he returned with a suggestive
undertone in his voice. “You visit the plan-
tation at an interesting time. The Gaylord
ha’nt has reappeared.”
“The Gaylord ha’nt!” I exclaimed in aston-
ishment. “What on earth is that?”
Radnor laughed.
“One of our godless ancestors once beat a
[20]


FOUR-POOLS PLANTATION
slave to death and his ghost comes back, off
and on, to haunt the negro cabins. We
had n’t heard anything of him for a good
many years and had almost forgotten the
story, when last week he reappeared. Devil
fires have been seen dancing in the laurels at
night, and mysterious moanings have been
heard around the cabins. If you have ever
had anything to do with negroes, you can
know the state our servants are in.”
“Well!” said I, “that promises entertain-
ment. I shall look forward to meeting the
ha’nt.”
We had reached the house by this time, and
as we drew up before the portico the Colonel
stood on the top step waiting to welcome
me. He was looking much as I remem-
bered him except that his hair had turned
from black to white, and his former imper-
ious bearing had become a trifle querulous.
I jumped out and grasped his outstretched
hand.
“I’m glad to see you, my boy! I’m glad
to see you,” he said cordially.
My heart warmed toward the oldman’s “my
[21]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
55
boy.” It had been a good many years since
anyone had called me that.
“You ’ve grown since I saw you last,” he
chuckled, as he led the way into the house
through the group of negro servants who had
gathered to see me arrive.
My first fleeting glimpse through the open
doors told me that it was indeed true, as Rad-
nor had said, nothing had changed. The fur-
niture was the same old-fashioned, solidly
simple furniture that the house had contained
since it was built. I was amused to see the
Colonel's gloves and whip thrown carelessly
on a chair in the hall. The whip was the one
token by which I remembered him.
“So you’ve been working too hard, have
you, Arnold?” the old man inquired, looking
me over with twinkling eyes. “We 'll give
you something to do that will make you for-
get you’ve ever seen work before! There are
half a dozen colts in the pasture just spoiling
to be broken in; you may try your hand at
that, sir. And now I reckon supper's about
ready,” he added. “Nancy does n’t allow any
loitering when it’s a question of beat biscuits.
[22]


FOUR-POOLS PLANTATION
Take him up to his room, Rad—and you
Mose,” he called to one of the negroes hang-
ing about the portico, “come and carry up
Marse Arnold's things.”
At this one of them shambled forward and
began picking up my traps which had been
dumped in a pile on the steps. His appear-
ance struck me with such an instant feeling of
repugnance, that even after I was used to
the fellow, I never quite overcame that first
involuntary shudder. He was not a full-
blooded negro but an octoroon. His color was
a muddy yellow, his features were sharp in-
stead of flat, and his hair hung across his fore-
head almost straight. But these facts alone
did not account for his queerness; the most
uncanny thing about him was the color of his
eyes. They had a yellow glint and narrowed
in the light. The creature was bare-footed
and wore a faded suit of linsey-woolsey; I
wondered at that, for the other servants who
had crowded out to see me, were dressed in
very decent livery. -
Radnor noticed my surprise, and re-
marked as he led the way up the winding
[23]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
staircase, “Mose is n’t much of a beauty, for
a fact.”
I made no reply as the man was close be-
hind, and the feeling that his eyes were boring
into the middle of my back was far from
pleasant. But after he had deposited his load
On the floor of my room, and, with a sidewise
glance which seemed to take in everything
without looking directly at anything, had
shambled off again, I turned to Rad.
“What 's the matter with him?” I de-
manded. -
Radnor threw back his head and laughed.
“You look as if you ’d seen the ha’nt!
There’s nothing to be afraid of. He does n’t
bite. The poor fellow's half witted—at least
in some respects; in others he ’s doubly
witted.”
“Who is he?” I persisted. “Where did he
come from?”
“Oh, he ’s lived here all his life—raised on
the place. We’re as fond of Mose as if he
were a member of the family. He 's my
father's body servant and he follows him
around like a dog. We don’t keep him
[24]


FOUR-POOLS PLANTATION
dressed for the part because shoes and stock-
ings make him unhappy.”
“But his eyes,” I said. “What the deuce is
the matter with his eyes?”
Radnor shrugged his shoulders.
“Born that way. His eyes are a little
queer, but if you've ever noticed it, niggers'
eyes are often yellow. The people on the
place call him ‘Cat-Eye Mose.’ You need n’t
be afraid of him,” he added with another
laugh, “he’s harmless.”
[25]


CHAPTER III
I MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF THE HA’NT
E had a sensation at supper that
night, and I commenced to real-
ize that I was a good many miles
from New York. In response to the invita-
tion of Solomon, the old negro butler, we
seated ourselves at the table and commenced
on the cold dishes before us, while he with-
drew to bring in the hot things from the
kitchen. As is often the case in Southern
plantation houses the kitchen was under a
separate roof from the main house, and con-
nected with it by a long open gallery. We
waited some time but no supper arrived. The
Colonel, becoming impatient, was on the point
of going to look for it, when the door burst
open and Solomon appeared empty-handed,
every hair on his woolly head pointing a dif-
ferent direction.
[26]


THE HA’NT
“De ha’nt, Marse Cunnel, de ha’nt! He's
sperrited off de chicken. Right outen de oven
from under Nancy's eyes.”
“Solomon,” said the Colonel severely,
“what are you trying to say? Talk sense.”
“Sho’s yuh bohn, Marse Cunnel; it 's de
libbin’ truf I's tellin' yuh. Dat ha'nt has
fotched dat chicken right outen de oven, an’
it's vanished in de air.”
“You go out and bring that chicken in and
don’t let me hear another word.”
“I cayn't, Marse Cunnel, 'deed I cayn’t.
Dere ain’t no chicken dere.”
“Very well, then! Go and get us some ham
and eggs and stop this fuss.”
Solomon withdrew and we three looked at
each other.
“Rad, what 's the meaning of this?” the
Colonel demanded querulously.
“Some foolishness on the part of the nig-
gers. I’ll look into it after supper. When
the ha’nt begins abstracting chickens from the
oven I think it’s time to investigate.”
Being naturally curious over the matter, I
commenced asking questions about the history
[27J


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
and prior appearances of the ha’nt. Radnor
answered readily enough, but I noticed that
the Colonel appeared restless under the in-
quiry, and the amused suspicion crossed my
mind that he did not entirely discredit the
story. When a man has been born and
brought up among negroes he comes, in spite
of himself, to be tinged with their ideas.
Supper finished, the three of us turned
down the gallery toward the kitchen. As we
approached the door we heard a murmur of
voices, one rising every now and then in a
shrill wail which furnished a sort of chorus.
Radnor whispered in my ear that he reckoned
Nancy had “got um” again. Though I did
not comprehend at the moment, I subse-
quently learned that “um” referred to a sort
of emotional ecstasy into which Nancy occa-
sionally worked herself, the motive power be-
ing indifferently ghosts or religion.
The kitchen was a large square room, with
brick floor, rough shack walls and smoky raf-
ters overhead from which pended strings of
garlic, red peppers and herbs. The light was
supplied ostensibly by two tallow dips, but in
[28]


THE HA’NT
reality by the glowing wood embers of the
great open stove bricked into one side of the
wall.
Five or six excited negroes were grouped
in a circle about a woman with a yellow tur-
ban on her head, who was rocking back and
forth and shouting at intervals:
“Oh-h, dere 's sperrits in de air! I can
smellum. I can smell um.”
“Nancy!” called the Colonel sharply as we
stepped into the room.
Nancy paused a moment and turned upon
us a pair of frenzied eyes with nothing much
but the whites showing. -
“Marse Cunnel, dere’s sperrits in de air,”
she cried. “Sabe yuhself while dere’s time.
We’s all a-treadin’ de road to destruction.”
“You’ll be treading the road to destruction
in mighty short order if you don’t keep still,”
he returned grimly. “Now stop this foolish-
ness and tell me what 's gone with that
chicken.”
After a great deal of questioning and
patching together, we finally got her story,
but I cannot say that it threw much light
[29]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
upon the matter. She had put the chicken in
the oven, and then she felt powerful queer, as
if something were going to happen. Suddenly
she felt a cold wind blow through the room,
the candles went out, and she could hear the
rustle of “ghostly gahments” sweeping past
her. The oven door sprang open of its own
accord; she looked inside, and “dere wa’n’t no
chicken dere!”
Repeated questioning only brought out the
same statement but with more circumstantial
details. The other negroes backed her up, and
the story grew rapidly in magnitude and hor-
ror. Nancy's seizures, it appeared, were con-
tagious, and the others by this time were al-
most as excited as she. The only approxi-
mately calm one among them was Cat-Eye
Mose who sat in the doorway watching the
scene with half furtive eyes and something re-
sembling a grin on his face.
The Colonel, observing that it was a good
deal of commotion for the sake of one
small chicken, disgustedly dropped the in-
quiry. As we stepped out into the gallery
again, I glanced back at the dancing firelight,
[30]


THE HA’NT
the weird cross shadows, and the circle of
dusky faces, with, I confess, a somewhat
creepy feeling. I could see that in such an
atmosphere, it would not take long for super-
stition to lay its hold on a man.
“What’s the meaning of it?” I asked as we
strolled slowly toward the house.
“The meaning of it,” Radnor shrugged, “is
that some of them are lying. The ha’nt, I
could swear, has a good flesh and blood appe-
tite. Nancy has been frightened and she be-
lieves her own story. There 's never any use
in trying to sift a negro's lies; they have so
much imagination that after five minutes they
believe themselves.”
“I think I could spot the ghost,” I re-
turned. “And that 's your precious Cat-Eye
Mose.”
Radnor shook his head.
“Mose does n’t need to steal chickens. He
gets all he wants.”
“Mose,” the Colonel added emphatically,
“is the one person on the place who is abso-
lutely to be trusted.”
We had almost reached the house, when we
[31]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
were suddenly startled by a series of shrieks
and screams coming toward us across the
open stretch of lawn that lay between us and
the old negro cabins. In another moment an
old woman, her face twitching with terror,
had thrown herself at our feet in a species of
convulsion.
“De ha’nt! De ha’nt! He 's a-beckon-
ing,” was all we could make out between her
InOa.InS.
The other negroes came pouring out from
the kitchen and gathered in a frenzied circle
about the writhing woman. Mose, I noted,
was among them; he could at least prove an
alibi this time.
“Here Mose, quick! Get us some torches,”
Radnor called. “We’ll fetch that ha'nt up
here to answer for himself.—It ’s old Aunt
Sukie,” he added to me, nodding toward the
woman on the ground whose spasms by this
time were growing somewhat quieter. “She
lives on the next plantation and was probably
taking a cross cut through the laurel path that
leads by the cabins. She 's almost a hundred
and is pretty nearly a witch herself.”
[32]


THE HA’NT
Mose shambled up with some torches—pine
knots dipped in tar, such as they used for
hunting 'possums at night, and he and I and
Radnor set out for the cabins. I noticed that
none of the other negroes volunteered to as-
sist; I also noticed that Mose went on ahead
with a low whining cry which sent chills chas-
ing up and down my back.
“What's the matter with him?” I gasped,
more intent on the negro than the ghost we
had come to search.
“That’s the way he always hunts,” Radnor
laughed. “There are a good many things
about Mose that you will have to get used to.”
We searched the whole region of the aban-
doned quarters with a considerable degree of
thoroughness. Three or four of the larger
cabins were used as store houses for fodder;
the rest were empty. We poked into all of
them, but found nothing more terrifying than
a few bats and owls. Though I did not give
much consideration to the fact at the time, I
later remembered that there was one of the
cabins which we did n’t explore as thoroughly
as the rest. Mose dropped his torch as we
3 [33]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
entered, and in the confusion of relighting it,
the interior was somewhat slighted. In any
case we unearthed no ha'nt that night; and
we finally gave up the search and turned back
to the house.
“I suspect,” Radnor laughed, “that if the
truth were known, old Aunt Sukie's beckon-
ing ha’nt would turn out to be nothing more
alarming than a white cow waving her tail.”
“It 's rather suggestive coming on top of
the chicken episode,” I observed.
“Oh, this won’t be the end! We 'll have
ha’nt served for breakfast, dinner and supper
during the rest of your stay. When the nig-
gers begin to see things they keep it up.”
When I went upstairs that night, Rad fol-
lowed close on my heels to see that I had
everything I needed. The room was a huge
four windowed affair, furnished with a cano-
pied bed and a mahogany wardrobe as big as
a small house. The nights still being chilly, a
roaring wood fire had been built, adding a
note of cheerfulness to an otherwise sombre
apartment.
“This was Nan's room,” he said suddenly.
[34]


THE HA’NT
“Nan's room!” I echoed glancing about the
shadowy interior. “Rather heavy for a girl.”
“It is a trifle severe,” he agreed, “but I dare
say it was different when she was here. Her
things are all packed away in the attic.” He
picked up a candle and held it so that it
lighted the face of a portrait over the man-
tle. “That 's Nan—painted when she was
eighteen.”
“Yes,” I nodded. “I recognized her the
moment I saw it. She was like that when I
knew her.”
“It used to hang down stairs but after her
marriage my father had it brought up here.
He kept the door locked until the news came
that she was dead, then he turned it into a
guest room. He never comes in himself; he
won’t look at the picture.”
Radnor spoke shortly, but with an under-
lying note of bitterness. I could see that he
felt keenly on the subject. After a few de-
sultory words, he somewhat brusquely said
good night, and left me to the memories of
the place.
Instead of going to bed I set about un-
[35]


THE HA’NT
to deserve this fate? Merely set up her will
against his, and married the man she loved.
Her husband was poor, but from all I ever
heard, a very decent chap. As I studied the
eager smiling face, I felt a hot wave of anger
against her father. What a power of vindic-
tiveness the man must have, still to cherish
rancour against a daughter fifteen years in
her grave! There was something too poig-
nantly sad about the unfulfilled hope of the
picture. I blew out the candles to rid my
mind of poor little Nannie's smile.
I sat for some time my eyes fixed moodily
on the glowing embers, till I was roused by
the deep boom of the hall clock as it slowly
counted twelve. I rose with a laugh and a
yawn. The first of the doctor's orders had
been, “Early to bed!” I hastily made ready,
but before turning in, paused for a moment
by the open window, enticed by the fresh
country smells of plowed land and sprouting
green things, that blew in on the damp breeze.
It was a wild night with a young moon hang-
ing low in the sky. Shadows chased them-
selves over the lawn and the trees waved and
[37]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
shifted in the wind. It had been a long time
since I had looked out on such a scene of
peaceful tranquillity as this. New York with
the hurry and rush of its streets, with the
horrors of Terry's morgue, seemed to lie in
another continent.
But suddenly I was recalled to the present
by hearing, almost beneath me, the low shud-
dering squeak of an opening window. I
leaned out silently alert, and to my surprise I
saw Cat-Eye Mose—though it was pretty
dark I could not be mistaken in his long lop-
ing run—slink out from the shadow of the
house and make across the open space of lawn
toward the deserted negro cabins. As he ran
he was bent almost double over a large black
bundle which he carried in his arms. Though
I strained my eyes to follow him I could make
out nothing more before he had plunged into
the shadow of the laurels.
[38]


CHAPTER IV
THE HA’NT GROws MYSTERIOUS
my dressing, eager to get down stairs and
report my last night's finding in regard
to Mose. My first impulse had been to rouse
the house, but on soberer second thoughts I
had decided to wait till morning. I was glad
now that I had; for with the sunlight stream-
ing in through the eastern windows, with the
fresh breeze bringing the sound of twittering
birds, life seemed a more cheerful affair than
it had the night before, and the whole aspect
of the ha’nt took on a distinctly humorous
tone.
A ghost who wafted roast chickens through
the air and out of doors on a breeze of its own
constructing, appealed to me as having an
original mind. Since my midnight discovery
I felt pretty certain that I could identify the
I WAKED early and hurried through with
[39]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
ghost; and as I recalled the masterly way in
which Mose had led and directed the hunt, I
decided that he was cleverer than Rad had
given him credit for. I went down stairs with
my eyes and ears wide open prepared for
further revelations. The problems of my
profession had never led me into any consid-
eration of the supernatural, and the rather
evanescent business of hunting down a ha’nt
came as a welcome contrast to the very mate-
rial details of my recent forgery case. I had
found what Terry would call a counter-irri-
tant.
It was still early, and neither the Colonel
nor Radnor had appeared; but Solomon was
sweeping off the portico steps and I ad-
dressed myself to him. He was rather coy at
first about discussing the matter of the ha’nt,
as he scented my scepticism, but in the end he
volunteered:
“Some says de ha’nt's a woman dat one o'
de Gaylords long time ago, should o' married
an’ did n’t, an’ dat pined away an died. An’
some says it 's a black man one o’ dem
whupped to deaf.”
[40]


THE HA’NT GROWS MYSTERIOUS
“Which do you think it is?” I inquired.
“Bress yuh, Marse Arnold, I ain’t thinkin’
nuffen. Like es not hit ’s bofe. When one
sperrit gits oneasy 'pears like he stir up all de
odders. Dey gets so lonely like lyin’ all by
dereselves in de grave dat dey’re 'most crazy
for company. An’ when dey cayn't get each
odder dey’ll take humans. De human what’s
consorted wid a gohs, Marse Arnold, he ’s
nebber hisself no moah. He ’s sort uh half-
minded like Mose.”
“Is that what ’s the matter with Mose?” I
pursued tentatively. “Does he consort with
ghosts?”
“Mose was bawn dat way, but I reckon
maybe dat was what was de matter wid his
mudder, an he cotched it.”
“That was ratheran unusual thing, lastnight,
was n’t it, for a ha’nt to steal a chicken?”
“’Pears like ha’nts must have dere jokes
like odder folkses,” was as far as Solomon
would go. -
At breakfast I repeated what I had seen
the night before, and to my indignation both
Radnor and my uncle took it calmly.
[41]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“Mose is only a poor half witted fellow but
he 's as honest as the day,” the Colonel de-
clared, “and I won’t have him turned into a
villain for your entertainment.”
“He may be honest,” I persisted, “but just
the same he knows what became of that
chicken! And what’s more, if you look about
the house you’ll find there 's something else
missing.”
The Colonel laughed good-naturedly.
“If it raises your suspicions to have Mose
prowling around in the night, you’ll have to
get used to suspicions; for you ’ll have 'em
during the rest of your stay. I’ve known
Mose to stop out in the woods for three nights
running—he 's as much an animal as he is a
man; but he’s a tame animal, and you needn’t
be afraid of him. If you’d followed him and
his bundle last night I reckon you ’d have
made a mighty queer discovery. He has his
own little amusements and they are n’t ex-
actly ours, but since he does n’t hurt anybody
what 's the use in bothering? I’ve known
Mose for well on to thirty years, and I’ve
never yet known him to do a meanness to any
[42]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
name. The other three lying in the pastures
higher up were used for watering the stock
and were kept clean and free from plant
growth. But the lower pool, abandoned like
the cabins, had been allowed to overflow its
banks until it was completely surrounded with
rushes and lily pads. A rank growth of wil-
low trees hung over the water and shut out all
but the merest glint of sunlight.
Above this pool the cabins stretched in a
double row occupying the base of the declivity
on which the “big house” stood. There were
as many as a dozen, I should think, built of
logs and unpainted shack, consisting for the
most part of a single large room, though a
few had a loft above and a rough lean-to
in the rear. A walk bordered by laurels
stretched down the center between the two
rows, and as the trees had not been clipped for
a good many years, the shade was somewhat
Sombre. Add to this the fact that one or two
of the roofs had fallen in, that the hinges
were missing from several doors, that there
was not a whole pane of glass in all the dozen
cabins, and it will readily be seen that the
[44]


THE HA’NT GROWS MYSTERIOUS
place gave rise to no very cheerful fancies. I
wondered that the Colonel did not have the
houses pulled down; they were not a souvenir
of past times which I myself should have
cared to preserve.
The damp earth where the shade was thick-
est, plainly showed the marks of foot-prints—
some made by bare feet, some by shoes—but I
could not follow them for more than a yard
or so, and I could not be certain they were not
our own traces of the night before. I poked
into every one of the cabins, but found noth-
ing suspicious about their appearance. I did
not, to be sure, ascend to any of the half
dozen lofts, as there were no stairs and no
suggestion of a ladder anywhere about. The
open traps however which led to them were so
thickly festooned with spider webs and dirt,
that it did not seem possible that anyone had
passed through for a dozen years. Finding
no sign of habitation, either human or spirit-
ual, I finally turned back to the house with a
philosophic shrug and the reflection that Cat-
Eye Mose's nocturnal vagaries were no affair
of mine.
[45]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
During the next few days we in the front
part of the house heard only faint echoes of
the excitement, though I believe that the
ha’nt, both past and present, was the chief
topic of conversation among the negroes, not
only at Four-Pools but among the neighbor-
ing plantations as well. I spent my time
those first few days in getting acquainted
with my new surroundings. The chief busi-
ness of the farm was horse raising, and the
Colonel kept a well stocked stable. A riding
horse was put at my disposal, and in company
with Radnor I explored the greater part of
the valley.
Wevisited atanumberof houses in theneigh-
borhood, but there was one in particular where
we stopped most frequently, and it did not
take me long to discover the reason. “Math-
ers Hall”, an ivy-covered rambling structure,
red brick with white trimmings—in style half
colonial, half old English—was situated a
mile or so from Four-Pools. The Hall had
sheltered three generations of Matherses, and
the fourth generation was growing up. There
was a huge family, mostly girls, who had mar-
[46]


THE HA’NT GROWS MYSTERIOUS
ried and moved away to Washington or Rich-
mond or Baltimore. They all came back in
the summer however bringing their babies
with them, and the place was the center of
gaiety in the neighborhood. There was just
one unmarried daughter left—Polly, nineteen
years old, and the most heartlessly charming
young person it has ever been my misfortune
to meet. As is likely to be the case with the
baby of a large family, Polly was thoroughly
spoiled, but that fact did not in the least
diminish her charm.
Report had it, at the time of my arrival,
that after refusing every marriageable man
in the county, she was now trying to make up
her mind between Jim Mattison and Radnor.
Whether or not these statistics were exagger-
ated, I cannot say, but in any case the many
other aspirants for her favor had tacitly
dropped out of the running, and the race was
clearly between the two.
It seemed to me, had I been Polly, that it
would not take me long to decide. Rad was
as likable a young fellow as one would ever
meet; he came from one of the best families
[47]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
in the county, with the prospect of inheriting
at his father's death a very fair sized fortune.
It struck me that a girl would have to search
a good while before discovering an equally
desirable husband. But I was surprised to
find that this was not the general opinion in
the neighborhood. Radnor's reputation, I
learned with something of a shock, was far
from what it should have been. I was told
with a meaning undertone that he “favored”
his brother Jeff. Though many of the stories
were doubtless exaggerated, I learned subse-
quently that there was too much truth in some
of them. It was openly said that Polly Math-
ers would be doing a great deal better if she
chose young Mattison, for though he might
not have the prospect of as much money as
Radnor Gaylord, he was infinitely the steadier
of the two. Mattison was a good-looking and
rather ill-natured young giant, but it did not
strike me at the time, nor later in the light of
succeeding events, that he was particularly
endowed with brains. By way of occupation,
he was described as being in “politics”; at
that time he was sheriff of the county,
[48]


THE HA’NT GROWS MYSTERIOUS
and was fully aware of the importance of the
office.
I fear that Polly had a good deal of the
coquette in her make-up, and she thoroughly
enjoyed the jealousy between the two young
men. Whenever Radnor by any chance in-
curred her displeasure, she retaliated by trans-
ferring her smiles to Mattison; and the vir-
tuous young sheriff took good care that
if Rad committed any slips, Polly should
hear of them. As a result, they succeeded in
keeping his temper in a very inflammable
State. -
I had not been long at Four-Pools be-
fore Icommenced to see that there was an under-
current to the life of the household which I
had not at first suspected. The Colonel had
grown strict as he grew old; his experience
with his elder son had made him bitter, and he
did not adopt the most diplomatic way of
dealing with Radnor. The boy had inherited
a good share of his father's stubborn temper
and indomitable will; the two, living alone,
inevitably clashed. Radnor at times seemed
possessed of the very devil of perversity; and
4 [49]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
if he ever drank or gambled, it was as much
to assert his independence as for any other
reason. There were days when he and his
father were barely on speaking terms.
Life at the plantation, however, was for the
most part easy-going and flexible, as is likely
to be the case in a bachelor establishment. We
dropped cigar ashes anywhere we pleased,
cocked our feet on the parlor table if we saw
fit, and let the dogs troop all over the place.
I spent the greater part of my time on horse-
back, riding about the country with Radnor on
business for the farm. He, I soon discovered,
did most of the actual work, though his father
was still the nominal head of affairs. The
raising of thorough-breds is no longer the
lucrative business that it used to be, and it re-
quired a good manager to bring the balance
out on the right side of the ledger. Rad was
such a spectacular looking young fellow that
I was really surprised to find what sound busi-
ness judgment he possessed. He insisted
upon introducing modern methods where his
father would have been content to drift along
in the casual manner of the old South, and his
[50]


THE HA’NT GROWS MYSTERIOUS
clear-sightedness more than doubled the in-
come of the place.
In the healthy out-of-door life I soon for-
got that nerves existed. The only thing which
at all marred the enjoyment of those first few
days was the knowledge of occasional clash-
ings between Radnor and his father. I think
that they were both rather ashamed of these
outbreaks, and I noticed that they tried to
conceal the fact from me by an elaborate if
somewhat stiff courtesy toward each other.
In order to make clear the puzzling series
of events which followed, I must go back to,
I believe, the fifth night of my arrival. Rad-
nor was giving a dance at Four-Pools for the
purpose, he said, of introducing me into
society; though as a matter of fact Polly
Mathers was the guest of honor. In any case
the party was given, and everyone in the
neighborhood (the term “neighborhood” is
broad in Virginia; it describes a ten mile
radius) both young and old came in carriages
or on horseback; the younger ones to dance
half the night, the older ones to play cards
and look on. I met a great many pretty girls
[51]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
that evening—the South deserves its reputa-
tion—but Polly Mathers was by far the pret-
tiest; and the contest for her favors between
Radnor and young Mattison was spirited and
open. Had Rad consulted his private wishes,
the sheriff would not have been among the
guests.
It was getting on toward the end of the
evening and the musicians, a band of negro
fiddlers made up from the different planta-
tions, were resting after a Virginia reel that
had been more a romp than a dance, when
someone—I think it was Polly herself—sug-
gested that the company adjourn to the laurel
walk to see if the ha’nt were visible. The
story of old Aunt Sukie's convulsions and of
the spirited roast chicken had spread through
the countryside, and there had been a good
many laughing allusions to it during the eve-
ning. Running upstairs in search of a hat I
met Rad on the landing, buttoning something
white inside his coat, something that to my
eyes looked suspiciously like a sheet. He
laughed and put his finger on his lips as he
went on down to join the others.
[52]


THE HA’NT GROWS MYSTERIOUS
It was a bright moonlight night almost as
light as day. We moved across the open lawn
in a fairly compact body. The girls, though
they had been laughing all the evening at the
exploits of the ha'nt, showed a cautious ten-
dency to keep on the inside. Rad was in the
front ranks leading the hunt, but I noticed
as we entered the shrubbery that he disap-
peared among the shadows, and I for one was
fairly certain that our search would be re-
warded. We paused in a group at the nearer
end of the row of cabins and stood waiting for
the ha’nt to show himself. He was obliging.
Four or five minutes, and a faint flutter of
white appeared in the distance at the farther
end of the laurel walk. Then as we stood
with expectant eyes fixed on the spot, we saw
a tall white figure sway across a patch of
moonlight with a beckoning gesture in our
direction, while the breeze bore a faintly whis-
pered, “Come! Come!” We were none of us
overbold; our faith was not strong enough to
run the risk of spoiling the illusion. With
shrieks and laughter we turned and made
helter-skelter for the house, breaking in
[53]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
among the elder members of the party with
the panting announcement, “We’ve seen the
ha’nt!”
Polly loitered on the veranda while supper
was being served, waiting, I suspect for Rad-
nor to reappear. I joined her, very willing
indeed that the young man should delay.
Polly, her white dress gleaming in the moon-
light, her eyes filled with laughter, her cheeks
glowing with excitement, was the most en-
trancing little creature I have ever seen. She
was so bubbling over with youth and light-
heartedness that I felt, in contrast, as if I
were already tottering on the brink of the
grave. I was just thirty that summer, but if
I live to be a hundred I shall never feel so old
again.
“Well Solomon,” I remarked as I helped
myself to some cakes he was passing, “we’ve
been consorting with ghosts tonight.”
“I reckon dis yere gohs would answer to de
name o’ Marse Radnah,” said Solomon, with
a wise shake of his head. “But just de same
it ain’t safe to mock at ha’nts. Dey’ll get it
back at you when you ain’t expectin’ it!”
[54]


THE HA’NT GROWS MYSTERIOUS
After an intermission of half an hour or
so the music commenced again, but still no
Radnor. Polly cast more than one glance
in the direction of the laurels and the
sparkle in her eyes grew ominous. Presently
young Mattison appeared in the doorway and
asked her to come in and dance, but she said
that she was tired, and we three stood laugh-
ing and chatting for some ten minutes longer,
when a step suddenly sounded on the gravel
path and Radnor rounded the corner of the
house. As the bright moonlight fell on his
face, I stared at him in astonishment. He
was pale to his very lips and there were
strained anxious lines beneath his eyes.
“What’s the matter, Radnor?” Polly cried.
“You look as if you’d found the ha’nt!”
He made an effort at composure and
laughed in return, though to my ears the
laugh sounded very hollow.
“I believe this is my dance, is n’t it, Polly?”
he asked, joining us with rather an over-acted
air of carelessness.
“Your dance was over half an hour ago,”
Polly returned. “This is Mr. Mattison’s.”
[ 55]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
She turned indoors with the young man,
and Rad following on their heels, made his
way to the punch bowl where I saw him toss
off three or four glasses with no visible in-
terval between them. I, decidedly puzzled,
watched him for the rest of the evening. He
appeared to have some disturbing matter on
his mind, and his gaiety was clearly forced.
It was well on toward horning when the
party broke up, and after some slight con-
versation of a desultory sort the Colonel, Rad
and I went up to our rooms. Whether it was
the excitement of the evening or the coffee I
had drunk, in any case I was not sleepy. I
turned in, only to lie for an hour or more with
my eyes wide open staring at a patch of moon-
light on the ceiling. My old trouble of in-
somnia had overtaken me again. I finally
rose and paced the floor in sheer desperation,
and then paused to stare out of the window at
the peaceful moonlit picture before me.
Suddenly I heard, as on the night of my
arrival, the soft creaking of the French win-
dow in the library, which opened on to the
veranda just below me. Quickly alert, I
[56]


THE HANT GROws MYSTERIOUS
leaned forward determined to learn if possi-
ble the reason for Mose's midnight wander-
ings. To my astonishment it was Radnor who
stepped out from the shadow of the house,
carrying a large black bundle in his arms. I
clutched the frame of the window and stared
after him in dumb amazement, as he crossed
the strip of moonlit lawn and plunged into the
shadows of the laurel growth.
[57]


CHAPTER V
CAT-EYE MOSE CREATES A SENSATION
OR the next week or so things went
F rather strangely on the plantation.
I knew very well that there was an
undercurrent of which I was supposed to
know nothing, and I appeared politely uncon-
scious; but I won’t say but that I kept my
eyes and ears as wide open as was possible
without appearing to spy. The chicken epi-
sode and Aunt Sukie's convulsions turned out
to be only the beginning of the ha’nt excite-
ment; scarcely a day passed without some
fresh supernatural visitation. Radnor pooh-
poohed over the matter before the Colonel and
me, but with the negroes I know that he en-
couraged rather than discouraged their fears,
until there was not a man on our own or any
of the neighboring plantations who would
[58]


CAT-EYE MOSE
have ventured to step foot within the laurel
walk, either at night or in the daytime—at
least there was only one. Cat-Eye Mose took
the matter of the ha’nt without undue emo-
tion, a point which struck me as suggestive,
for I knew that Mose was as superstitious as
the rest when the occasion warranted.
Once at least I saw Radnor and Mose in
consultation, and though I did not know the
subject of the conference my suspicions were
very near the surface. I came upon them in
the stables talking in low tones, Rad appar-
ently explaining, and Mose listening with the
air of strained attention which the slightest
mental effort always called to his face. At
my appearance Radnor raised his voice and
added one or two directions as to how his guns
were to be cleaned. It was evident that the
subject had been changed.
Everything that was missing about the
place—and there seemed to be an abnormal
amount—was attributed to the ha’nt. I do
not doubt but that the servants made the ha’nt
a convenient scapegoat to answer for their
own shortcomings, but still there were several
[59]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
suggestive depredations—horse blankets from
the stable, clothes from the line and more edi-
bles than roast chicken from Nancy's larder.
The climax of absurdity was reached when
there disappeared a rather trashy French
novel, which I had left in the summer house.
I asked Solomon about it, thinking that one
of the servants might have brought it in.
Solomon rolled his eyes and suggested that
the ha’nt had cotched it. I laughingly com-
mented upon the occurrence at the supper
table and the next day Rad handed me the
book; Mose had found it, he said, and had
brought it up to his room.
All of these minor occurrences were
stretched over a period of, say ten days after
the party, and though it gave me the uncom-
fortable feeling that there was something in
the air which I did not understand, I did not
let it worry me unduly. Radnor seemed to be
on the inside track of whatever was going on,
and he was old enough to take care of his own
affairs. I knew that he had more than once
visited the laurel walk after the house was
supposed to be asleep; but I kept this know-
[60]


CAT-EYE MOSE
ledge to myself, and allowed no hint to reach
the Colonel.
I had, during these first few weeks, all the
opportunity I wished of studying Mose's
character. Radnor was occupied a good deal
of the time—spring on a big river plantation
is a busy season—and as I had professed my-
self fond of shooting, the Colonel turned me
over to the care of Cat-Eye Mose. Had I
myself been choosing, I should have selected
another guide. But Mose was the best hunter
on the place, and as the Colonel was quite un-
troubled by his vagaries, it never occurred to
him that I might not be equally confident. In
time I grew used to the fellow, but I will ad-
mit that at first I accepted his services with
some honest trepidation. As I watched him
going ahead of me, crouching behind bushes,
springing from hummock to hummock, silent
and alert, quivering like an animal in search
of prey, my attention was centered on him
rather than on any possible quarry.
I shall never forget running across him in
the woods one afternoon when I had gone out
snipe shooting alone. Whether he had fol-
[61]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
lowed me or whether we had chosen the same
vicinity by chance, I do not know; but at any
rate as I came out from the underbrush on
the edge of a low, swampy place, I almost
stepped on the man. He was stretched face
downward on the black, oozy soil with his arm
buried in a hole at the foot of a tree.
“Why Mose!” I cried in amazement, “what
on earth are you doing here?”
He responded without raising his head.
“I’s aftah a snake, sah. I see a big fat
gahtah snake a-lopin’ into dis yere hole, an’
he ’s skulkin’ dar now thinkin’ like he gwine
to fool me. But he cayn’t do dat, sah. I’s
got'im by detail, an’ I’ll fotch'im out.”
He drew forth as he spoke a huge black and
yellow snake, writhing and hissing, and pro-
ceeded to smash its head with a stone. I shut
my eyes during the operation and when I
opened them again I saw to my horror that
he was stuffing the carcass in the front of his
shirt.
“Good heavens, Mose!” I cried, aghast.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“Boil it into oil, sah, to scar de witches off.”
[62]


CAT-EYE MOSE
Inquiry at the house that night brought out
the fact that this was one of Mose's regular
occupations. Snake's oil was in general
favor among the negroes as a specific against
witches, and Mose was the chief purveyor of
the lotion. Taken all in all he was about as
queer a human being as I have ever come
across, and I fancy, had I been a psychologist
instead of a lawyer, I might have found him
an entertaining study.
I heard about this time some fresh rumors
in regard to Radnor; one—and it came pretty
straight—that he ’d just lost a hundred dol-
lars at poker. A hundred dollars may not
sound like a very big loss in these days of
bridge, but it was large for that place, and it
represented to Radnor exactly two months’
pay. As overseer of the plantation, the Colo-
nel paid him six hundred dollars a year, a
little enough sum considering the work he did.
Rad had nothing in his own right; aside from
his salary he was entirely dependent on his
father, and it struck me as more than foolish
for a young man who was contemplating
marriage to throw away two months earnings
[63]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
in a single game of poker. The conviction
crossed my mind that perhaps after all Polly
was wise to delay.
I heard another rumor however which was
graver than the poker affair; it was only a
rumor, and when traced to its source turned
out to be nothing more tangible than some-
body's hazarded guess, but without the slight-
est cause the same suspicion had already pre-
sented itself to me. , And that was, that the
ha’nt was a very flesh and blood woman.
Radnor was clearly in some sort of trouble;
he was moody and irritable, so sharp with the
farm hands that several of them left, and un-
usually taciturn with the Colonel and me. To
make matters worse Polly Mathers was treat-
ing him with marked indifference, and openly
bestowing her smiles upon Mattison; what the
trouble was I could only conjecture, but I
feared that she too had been hearing
TUImOTS.
The ha’nt stories had been repeated and ex-
aggerated until they contained no semblance
of truth. By this time, not only the laurel
walk was haunted, but the spring-hole as well;
[64]


CAT-EYE MOSE
and it soon became a region of even greater
fear than the deserted cabins. The “spring-
hole” was a natural cavity in the side of a hill
a half mile or so back from the house. It was
out of this cavity that the underground
stream flowed which fed the pools, and fur-
nished such valuable irrigation to the place.
All that part of Virginia is undermined with
limestone caverns, and my uncle's was by no
means the only plantation that could boast the
distinction of a private cave. The entrance
was half hidden among rugged piled-up
boulders dripping with moisture; and was not
inviting. I remembered chasing a rabbit into
this cavern when I was a boy, and though it
would have been an easy matter to follow him,
I preferred to stay outside in the sunshine.
The spring-hole, then, was haunted. This did
not strike me as strange. I rather wondered
that it had not been from the first; it was a
likely place for ghosts. But the thing which
did surprise me, was the fact that it was Mose
who brought the news.
We were sitting on the portico after supper
one night—it was almost dark and the glow
5 [65]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
from our cigars was the one visible point in
the scenery—when Mose came bounding
across the lawn with his peculiar loping run
and fairly groveled at Radnor's feet, his teeth
chattering with fear.
“I’s seen de ha’nt, Marse Rad; de shonuff
ha’nt all dressed in black an’ risin’ outen de
spring-hole.”
“You fool!” Radnor cried. “Get on your
feet and behave yourself.”
“It was de debbil,” Mose chattered. “His
face was black an his eyes was fire.”
“You ’ve been drinking, Mose,” Radnor
said sharply. “Get off to the quarters where
you belong, and don’t let me see you again
until you are sober,” and he shunted the fel-
low out of the way before he had time to say
any more.
I myself was tolerably certain that Mose
had not been drinking; that, at least, was not
in the list of his peculiar vices. He appeared
to be thoroughly frightened—if not, he was a
most consummate actor. In the light of what
I already knew, I was considerably puzzled
by this fresh manifestation. The Colonel
[66]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“Yes,” I said, “I think so; how much do
you want?”
“A hundred dollars if you can spare it.
Fact is I’m a little hard up, and I’ve got a
bill to meet. I have some money invested but
I can’t put my hands on it just this minute.
I’ll pay you in a week or so as soon as I get
some cash—I would n’t ask you, only my
father is so blamed reluctant about paying
my salary ahead of time.”
I wrote out a check and handed it to him.
“Rad,” I said, “you ’re perfectly welcome
to the money; I’m glad to accommodate you,
but if you’ll excuse my mentioning it, I think
you ought to pull up a bit on this poker busi-
ness. You don’t earn so much that if you’re
thinking of getting married you can afford to
throw any of it away.—I’m only speaking
for your good; it ’s no affair of mine,” I
added as I saw his face flush.
He hesitated a moment with the check in
his hand; I know that he wanted to give it
back, but he was evidently too hard pressed.
“Oh, keep the money!” I said. “I don’t
want to pry into your private affairs, only,” I
[68]


CAT-EYE MOSE
laughed, “I do want to see you win out ahead
of Mattison, and I’m afraid you’re not going
about it the right way.”
“Thank you, Arnold,” he returned, “I want
to win a great deal more than you want me to
—and if it's gambling you’re afraid of, you
can ease your mind, for I’ve sworn off. It’s
not a poker debt I want this money for to-
night; I would n’t be so secretive about the
business, only it concerns another person more
than me.”
“Radnor,” I said, “I heard an ugly rumor
the other day. I heard that the ghost was a
live woman who was living in the deserted
cabins under your connivance. I did n’t be-,
lieve it, but just the same it is not a story
which you can afford to have even whis-
pered.”
Radnor raised his head sharply.
“Ah, I see!” His eyes wavered a moment
and then fixed themselves miserably on my
face. “Has—has Polly Mathers heard that?”
“Yes,” I returned, “I fancy she has.”
He struck the table with a quick flash of
anger.
[69]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“It 's a damned lie! And it comes from
Jim Mattison.”
AND now as to the events which followed dur-
ing the night. I’ve repeated them so many
times to so many different persons that it is
difficult for me to recall just what were my
original sensations. I went to bed but I
did n’t go to sleep; this ha’nt business was
getting on my nerves almost as badly as the
Patterson-Pratt case. After a time I heard
someone let himself softly out of the house;
I knew well that it was Radnor and I did n’t
get up to look. I didn’t want the appearance
even to myself of spying upon him. After
three quarters of an hour or so I was sud-
denly startled alert by hearing the squeak-
squeak of a whippletree out on the lawn. It
was the Colonel’s buckboard which stood in
need of oiling; I recognized the sound. Curi-
osity was too much for me this time. I
slipped out of bed and hurried to the window.
It was pretty dark outside, but there was a
faint glimmer of starlight.
“Whoa, Jennie Loo; whoa!” I heard Rad’s
[70]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
I was suddenly startled awake by a succession
of the most horrible screams I have ever heard.
In an instant I was on my feet in the middle
of the floor. Striking a match and lighting a
candle, I grabbed an umbrella—it was the
only semblance of a weapon anywhere at
hand—and dashed into the hall. The Colonel’s
door was flung open at the same instant, and
he appeared on the threshold, revolver in
hand.
“Eh, Arnold, what 's happened?” he cried.
“I don’t know,” I gasped, “I 'm going
down to see.” -
We tumbled down stairs at such a rate that
the candle went out, and we groped along in
total darkness toward the rear of the house
from where the sounds were coming. The
cries had died down by this time into a hor-
rible inarticulate wail, half animal, half hu-
man. I recognized the tones with a cold
thrill; it was Mose. We found him grovel-
ing on the floor of the little passage that led
from the dining-room to the serving room. I
struck a light and we bent over him. I hated
to look, expecting from the noise he was mak-
[72]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
propped him up with some whiskey and sent
him off to bed still twittering with terror.
The Colonel was bent on routing out Rad-
nor to share the excitement and I with some
difficulty restrained him, knowing full well
that Rad was not in the house. We made a
search of the premises to assure ourselves that
there was nothing tangible about Mose's
ha’nt; but I was in such a hurry to get the
Colonel safely upstairs again, that our search
was somewhat cursory. We both overlooked
the little office that opened off the dining-
room. In spite of my manoeuvres the Colonel
entered the library first and discovered that
the French window was open; he laid no stress
on this however, supposing that Mose was the
guilty one. He bolted it with unusual care,
and I with equal care slipped back and un-
bolted it. I finally persuaded him that Mose's
ha’nt was merely the result of a fevered imag-
ination fed on a two weeks' diet of ghost sto-
ries, and succeeded in getting him back to bed
without discovering Radnor's absence. I lay
awake until I heard the sound of carriage
wheels returning across the lawn, and, a few
[74]


CAT-EYE MOSE
minutes later, footsteps enter the house and
tip-toe upstairs. Then as daylight was begin-
ning to show in the east I finally fell asleep,
worn out with puzzling my head for an ex-
planation which should cover at once Rad's
nocturnal drive and Mose's ha’nt.
[75]


CHAPTER VI
WE SEND FOR A DETECTIVE
came down stairs to find the Colonel pac-
ing the length of the dining-room, his
head bent, a worried frown upon his brow.
He came to a sudden halt at my appearance
and regarded me a moment without speaking.
I could see that something of moment had
happened, but I could fathom nothing of its
nature from his expression.
“Good morning, Arnold,” he said with a
certain grim pleasantness. “I have just been
making a discovery. It appears that Mose's
ha’nt amounted to more than we gave him
credit for. The safe was robbed during the
night.”
“The safe robbed!” I cried. “How much
was taken?”
I SLEPT late the next morning, and
* . - -
[76]


WE SEND FOR A DETECTIVE
“Something over a hundred dollars in cash,
and a number of important papers.”
He threw open the door of the little office,
and waved his hand toward the safe which
occupied one end. The two iron doors were
wide open, the interior showing a succession
of yawning pigeon holes with the cash drawer,
half pulled out and empty. Several papers
were spilled on the floor underneath.
“He evidently had no use for my will nor
for Kennisburg street railway stock—I don’t
blame him; it would n’t sell for the paper it’s
written on.” •
Radnor's step sounded on the stair as he
came running down—whistling I noted.
“Ah—Rad,” the Colonel called from the
office doorway. “You’re a good sleeper.”
Radnor stopped his whistle as his eye fell
upon our faces, and his own took on a look of
anxiety. -
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Has any-
thing happened?”
“It appears the ha’nt has robbed the safe.”
“The ha’nt?” Rad's face went visibly
white, and then in a moment it cleared; his
[77]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
expression was divided between relief and
dismay.
“Oh!” he said, “you’ve missed the money?
I meant to get down first and tell you about
it, but overslept. I took a hundred dollars out
of the safe last night because I wanted the .
cash—you had gone to bed so I did n’t say
anything about it. I will ride into the village
this morning and get it out of the bank in
time to pay the men.”
“You took a hundred dollars,” the Colonel
repeated. “And did you take the securities
also and the bag of coin?” He waved his
hand toward the safe. Radnor's eye followed
and his jaw dropped.
“I did n’t touch anything but the roll of
bills in the cash drawer. What’s missing?”
“Five thousand dollars in bonds, a couple of
insurance policies and one or two deeds—also
the bag of coin. Mose saw the ha’nt in the
night, and Arnold and I came down to inves-
tigate; we unfortunately neglected the office
in our search, or we might have cornered him.
Do you happen to remember whether or not
you closed the safe after you took out the
[78]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
bother of going in to the bank. So long as I
balance the books all right, I see no reason
why I should not do so.”
“H'm!” said the Colonel. “Two days ago
you came to me and wanted two months’ pay
in advance because you had overdrawn your
bank account, and I refused to give it to you.
Where, may I ask, were you intending to get
the hundred dollars to pay back this amount?”
A quick flush spread over Radnor's face.
“I already had it—Arnold will tell you
that, for I borrowed it of him.”
“Certainly,” I put in pacifically—“that 's
all settled between Rad and me. I have his
note and was glad to accommodate him.”
“Don’t you get enough from me, that you
must ask the guests in my house to supply you
with money?”
Radnor's flush deepened but he said noth-
ing. I could see by his eyes however that he
would not stand much more.
“Then after you had helped yourself to the
money, the bonds were stolen by someone
else?” said the Colonel.
“So it appears,” said Radnor.
[80]


WE SEND FOR A DETECTIVE
“And have you any theory as to the iden-
tity of the thief?”
Rad hesitated a visible instant before re-
plying. The flush left his face and the pallor
came back, but in the end he raised his eyes
and answered steadily.
“No, father, I have not. I am as much
mystified as you are.”
“And you heard nothing in the night? As
I said before, you are an excellent sleeper!”
Rad caught an ironical undertone in his
father’s voice.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“I am a trifle deaf myself, but still he
wakened me.—It 's strange that you should
be the only one in the house who could sleep
through it.” -
“Sleep through what? I don’t know what
you’re talking about.”
I cut in hastily and explained our adven-
ture with Mose's ha’nt.
Radnor listened with troubled eyes but
made no comment at the end. His father was
watching him keenly, and I don’t know
whether it was intuition or some knowledge
6 ..[81]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
of the truth that made him suddenly put the
question:
“You were of course in the house all
night?”
“No,” Radnor returned, “I was not. I
did n’t get in till early this morning and I
suppose the excitement occurred during my
absence.”
“I suppose I may not be permitted to
inquire where you spent the night—that too
is a private matter?”
“Yes,” said Radnor, easily, “that too is a
private matter.”
“And would throw no light on the rob-
bery?” -
“None whatever.”
Solomon brought in the breakfast and we
three sat down, but not to a very cheerful
meal. The Colonel wore an angry frown and
Rad an air of anxious perplexity. Neither
of them indulged in any unnecessary conver-
sation. I knew that the Colonel was more up-
set by his son's reticence than by the robbery
of the bonds, and that it was my presence
alone which restrained him from giving vent
[82]


WE SEND FOR A DETECTIVE
to his anger. As we rose from the table he
said stiffly:
“Well, Rad, have you any suggestion as to
how we shall set to work to track down the
thief?”
Radnor slowly shook his head.
“I shall have to talk with Mose first and
find out what he really saw.”
“Mose!” The Colonel laughed shortly.
“He ’s like all the rest of the niggers. He
does n’t know what he saw—No sir! I’ve had
enough of this ha’nt business; it 's one thing
when he spirits chickens from the oven, it ’s
another when he takes to spiriting securities
from the safe. I shall telegraph to Wash-
ington for a first class detective.”
“If you take my advice,” said Rad, “you’ll
not do that. A detective ’s not much good
outside the covers of a book. He'll stir up a
lot of notoriety and present a bill; and you’ll
be no wiser than you were before.”
“Whoever stole those bonds will be market-
ing them within a few days; the interest falls
due the first of May. I am not so rich that I
can let five thousand dollars go without a
[83]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
move to get it back. I shall telegraph today
for a detective.”
“Just as you please,” said Radnor with a
shrug, and he turned toward the door that
opened on the gallery. Mose was visible at
the end evidently recounting to an excited
audience his experiences of the night. Rad
beckoned to him and the two turned together
across the lawn toward the laurel walk.
It was an hour or so later that Rad pre-
sented himself at my door. His colloquy
with Mose had increased rather than lessened
the mystified look on his face. He waited for
no preliminaries this time, but plunged im-
mediately into the matter that was on his mind.
“Arnold, for heaven's sake, stop my father
from getting a detective down here. I don’t
dare say anything, for my opposition will
only make him do it the more. But you have
some influence with him; tell him you ’re a
lawyer, and will take charge of it yourself.”
“Why don’t you want a detective?” I asked.
“Good Lord, has n’t our family had noto-
riety enough? Here’s Nan eloping with the
overseer, and Jeff the scandal of the county
[84]


WE SEND FOR A DETECTIVE
for five years. I can’t turn around but some
malicious interpretation is put on it, and now
that the family ghost has taken to cracking
safes gossip will never stop. Get a detective
down here who goes nosing about the neigh-
borhood in search of information and there’s
no telling where the thing will end. Those
bonds can’t be far. Aren’t we more likely to
get at the truth, if we lie low and don’t let on
we’re after the thief?”
“Radnor,” I said, “will you tell me the ab-
solute truth? Have you any suspicion as to
who took those securities? Do you know any
facts which might lead to the apprehension of
the thief?”
He remained silent a moment, then he par-
ried my question with another.
“What time did all that row occur in the
night?”
“I don’t know; I did n’t think to look, but I
should say it was somewhere in the neighbor-
hood of three o'clock. I did n’t go to sleep
again, and it was about half an hour later that
you drove in.”
“You heard me?”
[85]


WE SEND FOR A DETECTIVE
story. He is n’t given to seeing visions, and
as you know, he is n’t afraid of the dark. He
saw something that scared him; but what it
was, I’ll be darned if I know!”
“Then why not get a detective down and
see if he can’t find out?”
Radnor lowered his eyes a moment, then
raised them frankly to mine.
“Oh, hang it, Arnold; I’m in the deuce of a
hole! There 's something else that I don’t
want found out. It’s absolutely unconnected
withtherobbery, but you bringadetective down
here and he’s certain to stumble on that instead
of the other. I’d tell you if I could, but really
I can’t just now. It’s nothing I’m to blame
for—my conduct lately has been immaculate.
You get my father to abandon this detective
plan, and we 'll buckle down together and
root out the truth about the robbery.”
“Well,” I promised, “I’ll see what I can
do; but as the Colonel says, five thousand dol-
lars is a good deal of money to let slip
through your hands without making an effort
to get it back. You and I will have to finish
the business if we undertake it.”
[87]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“We will!” he assured me. “We can cer-
tainly get at the truth better than an outsider
who does n’t know any of the facts. You
switch off the old gentleman from putting it
in the hands of the police and everything will
come out right.”
He went off actually whistling again.
Whatever had been troubling him for the past
two weeks had been sloughed off during the
night, and all that remained now was the dan-
ger of detection; with this removed he was his
old careless self. The loss of the securities
was apparently not bothering him. Radnor
always did exhibit a lordly disregard in
money matters.
I lost no time in taking my errand to the
Colonel, but I could discover him in none of
the down stairs rooms nor anywhere else about
the place. It occurred to me, after half an
hour of searching, to see if his horse were in
the stable; as I had surmised it was not. He
had ordered it saddled immediately after
breakfast and had ridden off in the direction
of the village, one of the stablemen informed
me. I had my own horse saddled, and ten
[88]


WE SEND FOR A DETECTIVE
minutes later was riding after him. It sur-
prised me that he should have acted so
quickly; the Colonel was usually rather given
to procrastination, while Rad was the one who
acted. His promptness proved that he was
angry. -
Four-Pools is about two miles from the vil-
lage of Lambert Corners which consists of a
single shady square. Two sides of the square
are taken up with shops, the other two with
the school, a couple of churches, and a dozen
or so of dwellings. This composes as much
of the town as is visible, the aristocracy being
scattered over the outlying plantations, and
regarding the “Corners” merely as a source
of mail and drinks. Three miles farther down
the pike lies Kennisburg, the county seat,
which answers the varied purposes of a
metropolis.
I reined in before “Miller's place,” a spa-
cious structure comprising a general store on
the right, the post and telegraph office on the
left, and in the rear a commodious room
where a white man may quench his thirst. A
negro must pass on to “Jake's place,” two
[89]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
doors below. A number of horses were tied
to the iron railing in front and among them I
recognized Red Pepper. I found the Colonel
in the back room, a glass of mint julep at his
elbow, an interested audience before him. He
was engaged in recounting the story of the
missing bonds, and it was too late for me to
interrupt. He referred in the most casual
manner to the hundred dollars his son had
taken from the safe the night before, a fortu-
nate circumstance, he added, or that too would
have been stolen. There was not the slightest
suggestion in his tone that he and his son had
had any words over this same hundred dollars.
The Gaylord pride could be depended on for
hiding from the world what the world had no
business in knowing.
The telegram to the detective agency, I
found, had already been dispatched, and the
Colonel was awaiting his answer. It came in
a few moments and was delivered by word of
mouth, the clerk seeing no reason why he
should put himself to the trouble of writing it
out.
“They say they’ll put one o’ their best men
[90]


WE SEND FOR A DETECTIVE
on the case, Colonel, an he 'll get to the
Junction at five-forty tonight.”
The Colonel and I rode home together, he
in a more placable frame of mind. Though I
dare say he disliked as much as ever the idea
of losing his bonds, still the éclat of a robbery,
of a magnitude that demanded a detective,
was something of a palliative. It was not
everyone of his listeners who had five thou-
sand dollars in bonds to lose. I knew that it
would be useless to try to head off the detec-
tive now, and I wisely kept silent. My mind
was by no means at rest however; for an un-
known reason I did not want a detective any
more than Radnor. I had the intangible feel-
ing that there was something in the air which
might better not be discovered.
[91]


CHAPTER VII
WE SEND HIM BACK AGAIN
HE detective came. He was an inof-
| fensive young man, and he set to work
to unravel the mystery of the ha’nt
with visible delight at the unusual nature of
the job. Radnor received him in a spirit of
almost anxious hospitality. A horse was
given him to ride, guns and fishing tackle
were placed at his disposal, a box of the Colo-
nel’s best cigars stood on the table of his room,
and Solomon at his elbow presented a succes-
sion of ever freshly mixed mint juleps. I
think that he was dazed and a trifle suspicious
at these unexpected attentions; he was not
used to the largeness of Southern hospitality.
However, he set to work with an admirable
zeal.
He interviewed the servants and farm-
hands, and the information he received in re-
[92]


WE SEND HIM BACK AGAIN
gard to things supernatural would have filled
three volumes; he was staggered by the
amount of evidence at hand rather than the
scarcity. He examined the safe and the
library window with a microscope, crawled
about the laurel walk on his hands and knees,
sent off telegrams and gossiped with the
loungers at “Miller's place.” He interviewed
the Colonel and Radnor, cross-examined me,
and wrote down always copious notes. The
young man's manner was preeminently pro-
fessional.
Finally one evening—it was four days
after his arrival—he joined me as I was stroll-
ing in the garden smoking an after dinner
pipe.
“May I have just a word with you, Mr.
Crosby?” he asked.
“I am at your service, Mr. Clancy,” said I.
His manner was gravely portentous and
prepared me for the statement that was com-
ing.
“I have spotted my man,” he said. “I
know who stole the securities; but I am afraid
that the information will not be welcome.
[93]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
Under the circumstances it seemed wisest to
make my report to you rather than to Colonel
Gaylord, and we can decide between us what
is best to do.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded. In
spite of my effort at composure, there was
anxiety in my tone.
“The thief is Radnor Gaylord.”
I laughed. -
“That is absolutely untenable. Rad is in-
capable of such an act in the first place, and in
the second, he was not in the house when the
robbery occurred.”
“Ah! Then you know that? And where
was he, pray?”
“That,” said I, “is his own affair; if he did
not tell you, it is because it is not connected
with the case.”
“So! It is just because it is connected with
the case that he did not tell me. I will tell
you, however, where he spent the night; he
drove to Kennisburg—a larger town than
Lambert Corners, where an unusual letter
would create no comment—and mailed the
bonds to a Washington firm of brokers with
[94]


WE SEND HIM BACK AGAIN
whom he has had some dealings. He took the
bag of coin and several unimportant papers in
order to deflect suspicion, and his opening the
safe the night before for the hundred dollars
was merely a ruse to allow him to forget and
leave it open, so that the bonds could appear
to be stolen by someone else. Just what led
him to commit the act I won’t say; he has
been in a tight place for several months back
in regard to money. Last January he turned
a two-thousand dollar mortgage, that his
father had given him on his twenty-first birth-
day, into cash, and what he did with the cash
I have n’t been able to discover. In any case
his father knows nothing of the transaction;
he thinks that Radnor still holds the mort-
gage. This spring the young man was hard
up again, and no more mortgages left to sell.
He probably did not regard the appropria-
tion of the bonds as stealing, since everything
by his father's will was to come to him ulti-
mately.
“As to all this hocus-pocus about the ha’nt,
that is easily explained. He needed a scape-
goat on whom to turn the blame when the
[95]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
bonds should disappear; so he and this Cat-
Eye Mose between them invented a ghost.
The negro is a half crazy fellow who from the
first has been young Gaylord’s tool; I don’t
think he knew what he was doing sufficiently
to be blamed. As for Gaylord himself, I
fancy there was a third person somewhere in
the background who was pressing him for
money and who could n’t be shaken off till the
money was forthcoming. But whatever his
motive for taking the bonds, there is no doubt
about the fact, and I have come to you with
the story rather than to his father.”
“It is absolutely impossible,” I returned.
“Radnor, whatever his faults, is an honorable
man in regard to money matters. I have his
word that he knows no more about the rob-
bery of those bonds than I do.”
The detective laughed.
“There is just one kind of evidence that
does n’t count for much in my profession, and
that is a man's word. We look for something
a little more tangible—such as this for exam-
ple.”
He drew from his pocket an envelope, took
[96]


WE SEND HIM BACK AGAIN
from it a letter, and handed it to me. It was
a typewritten communication from a firm of
brokers in Washington.
“RADNOR F. GAYLORD, Esq.,
“Four-Pools Plantation, Lambert Corners, Va.
“Dear Mr. Gaylord:
“We are in receipt of your favor of April
29th. in regard to the sale of the bonds. The
market is rather slow at present and we shall
have to sell at 98%. If you care to hold on to
them a few months longer, there is every
chance of the market picking up, and we feel
sure that in the end you will find them a good
investment.
“Awaiting your further orders and thank-
ing you for past favors,
“We are,
“Very truly yours,
“JACOBY, HAIGHT & Co.”
“Where did you get hold of that?” I asked.
“It strikes me it’s a private letter.”
“Very private,” the young man agreed. “I
had trouble enough in getting hold of it; I
7 [97]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
had to do some fishing with a hook and pole
over the transom of Mr. Gaylord’s door. He
had very kindly put the tackle at my dis-
posal.”
“You were n’t called down here to open the
family’s private letters,” I said hotly.
“I was called down here to find out who
stole Colonel Gaylord’s bonds, and I’ve done
it.”
I was silent for a moment. This letter
from the brokers staggered me. April twen-
ty-ninth was the date of the robbery, and I
could think of no explanation. Clancy, notic-
ing my silence, elaborated his theory with a
growing air of triumph. -
“This Mose was left behind the night of the
robbery with orders to rouse the house while
Radnor was away. Mose is a good actor and
he fooled you. The obvious suspicion was
that the ghost had stolen the bonds and you
set out to find him—a somewhat difficult task
as he existed only in Mose's imagination. I
think when you reflect upon the evidence, you
will see that my explanation is convincing.”
“It is n’t in the least convincing,” I re-
[98]


WE SEND HIM BACK AGAIN
torted. “Mose was not acting; he saw some-
thing that frightened him half out of his
senses. And that something was not Rad-
nor masquerading as a ghost, for Radnor
was out of the house when the robbery took
place.”
“Not necessarily. The robbery took place
early in the evening before all this rumpus
occurred. Even if Mose did see a ghost, the
ghost had nothing to do with it.”
“You have absolutely no proof of that; it is
nothing but surmise.”
Clancy smiled with an air of patient toler-
ance.
“How about the letter?” he inquired.
“How do you explain that?”
“I don’t explain it; it is none of my busi-
ness. But I dare say Radnor will do so read-
ily enough—there he is going toward the sta-
bles; we will call him over.”
“No, hold on, I have n’t finished what I
want to say. I was employed by Colonel
Gaylord to find out who stole the bonds and I
have done so. But the Colonel did not sus-
pect the direction my investigations would
[99]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
take or he never would have engaged
me. Now I am wondering if it would
not be kinder not to let him know? He ’s
had trouble enough with his elder son;
Radnor is all he has left. The young man
seems to me like a really decent fellow—I
dare say he 'll straighten up and amount to
something yet. Probably he considered the
money as practically his already; anyway he’s
been decent to me and I should like to do him
a service. Now say we three talk it over to-
gether and settle it out of court as it were.
I’ve put in my time down here and I’ve got
to have my pay, but perhaps it would be bet-
ter all around if I took it from the young man
rather than his father.”
This struck me as the best way out of the
muddle, and a very fair proposition, consid-
ering Clancy's point of view. I myself did
not for an instant credit his suspicions, but I
thought the wisest thing to do was to tell Rad
just how the matter stood and let him explain
in regard to the letter. I left Clancy waiting
in the summer house while I went in search of
Rad. I wished to be the one to do the ex-
[100]


WE SEND HIM BACK AGAIN
plaining as I knew he was not likely to take
any such accusation calmly.
I found him in the stables, and putting my
hand on his shoulder, marched him back
toward the garden.
“Rad,” I said, “Clancy has formed his con-
clusions as to how the bonds left the safe, and
I want you to convince him that heismistaken.”
“Well? Let’s hear his conclusions.”
“He thinks that you took them when you
took the money.”
“You mean that I stole them?”
“That 's what he thinks.”
“He does, does he? Well he can prove it!”
Radnor broke away from me and strode
toward the summer house. The detective re-
ceived his onslaught placidly; his manner sug-
gested that he was used to dealing with excita-
ble young men.
“Sit down, Mr. Gaylord, and let's discuss
this matter quietly. If you listen to reason, I
assure you it will go no further.”
“Do you mean to say that you accuse me of
stealing those bonds?” Radnor shouted.
Clancy held up a warning hand.
[101]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“Don’t talk so loud; someone will hear you.
Sit down.” He nodded toward a seat on the
other side of the little rustic table. “I will ex-
plain the matter as I see it, and if you can
disprove any of my statements I shall be more
than glad to have you.”
Radnor subsided and listened scowlingly
while the detective outlined his theory in a
perfectly non-personal way, and ended by
producing the letter.
“Where did you get that?” Rad demanded.
“Out of your coat pocket which I hooked
over the transom of the door.” He made the
statement imperturbably; it was evidently a
matter of everyday routine.
“So you enter gentlemen's houses as their
guest and spend your time sneaking about
reading their private correspondence?”
An angry gleam appeared in Clancy's eye
and he rose to his feet.
“I did not come to your house as your
guest. I came on business for Colonel Gay-
lord. Now that my business is completed I
will make my report to him and go.”
Radnor rose also.
[102]


WE SEND HIM BACK AGAIN
“It’s a lie, and you have n’t a word of proof
to show.”
Clancy significantly tapped the pocket that
held the letter.
“That,” said Radnor contemptuously, “re-
fers to two bonds which I bought last winter
with some money I got from selling a mort-
gage. I preferred to have the investment in
bonds because they are more readily negotia-
ble. I left them at my broker's as collateral
for another investment I was making. Last
week I needed some ready money and wrote
to them to sell. My statement can easily be
substantiated; no reputable detective would
ever base any such absurd charge on the con-
tents of a letter he did not understand.”
“Of course,” said the detective, “we have
tried to get at the matter from the other end;
but Jacoby, Haight & Company refuse to
discuss the affairs of their clients. I did not
press the point as I did not want to stir up
comment. However,” he smiled, “I must
confess, Mr. Gaylord, that I think your ex-
planation a trifle fishy. Perhaps you will an-
swer one question. Did you mail your letter
[103]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
to them in Kennisburg the night of the rob-
bery with a special delivery stamp?”
“It happens that I did, but it was merely a
coincidence and has nothing to do with the
robbery.”
“Will you be kind enough to explain why
you drove to Kennisburg in the night and
why you needed the money so suddenly?”
“No, I will not. That is a matter which
concerns. me alone.”
“Very well! As it happens I do not base
my charge on the letter; I had already formed
my opinion before I knew of its existence.
Do you deny that you yourself have encour-
aged the belief in the ghost among the ne-
groes? That on more than one occasion,
you, or your accomplice, Cat-Eye Mose,
have masqueraded as the ghost? That, while
you were pretending to Colonel Gaylord
to be as much puzzled by the matter as
he, you were in truth at the bottom of the
whole business?”
Radnor glanced uneasily at me and hesita-
ted before replying.
“No,” he said at length, “I don’t deny that,
[104]


WE SEND HIM BACK AGAIN
but I do affirm that it has nothing to do with
the robbery.”
The detective laughed.
“You must excuse me, Mr. Gaylord, if I
stick to the opinion that I have solved the puz-
zle.”
He turned with a motion toward the house,
and Radnor barred the entrance.
“Do you think I lie when I say I know
nothing of those bonds?”
“Yes, Mr. Gaylord, I do.”
For a moment I thought that Radnor was
going to strike him, but I pulled him back and
turned to Clancy.
“He knows nothing about the bonds,” said
I, “but nevertheless you must not take any
such story to Colonel Gaylord. He is an old
man, and while he would not believe his son
guilty of theft, still it would worry him.
There is something else that happened that
night—entirely uncriminal—but which we do
not wish him to hear about. Therefore I am
not going to let you go to him with this non-
sensical tale that you have cooked up.”
This was a trial shot on my part but it hit
[105]


WE SEND HIM BACK AGAIN
other end. Then pack your bag and go. A
carriage will be ready to take you to the Junc-
tion in half an hour.” -
“Just wait a moment, Mr. Clancy,” Rad
called after him as he turned away. He drew
a note book from his pocket and ripping out
a page scrawled across the face:
“JACOBY, HAIGHT AND Co.
“Gentlemen:—You will oblige me by an-
swering any questions which the bearer of this
note may ask concerning my past transac-
tions with you.
“RADNOR F. GAYLORD.”
“There,” said Rad, thrusting it toward him,
“kindly make use of that when you get to
Washington, and in the future I should ad-
vise you to base your charges on something a
little more substantial.”
His manner was insultingly contemptuous,
but Clancy swallowed it with smiling good
nature.
“I shall be interested in continuing the in-
vestigation,” he observed as he pocketed the
paper and withdrew.
[107]


CHAPTER VIII
THE ROBBERY REMAINS A MYSTERY
S. we got rid of the detective. But mat-
ters did not readily settle down again
into their old relations. The Colonel
was irritable, and Rad was moody and sullen.
He showed no tendency to confide in me as to
the truth about the ha’nt, and I did not probe
the matter further. In a day or so he brought
me three hundred dollars, to cover the amount.
I had loaned him, together with the “black-
mail,” as he insisted upon calling it. The
money, he informed me, was from the pro-
ceeds of the bonds he had sold. He showed
me at the same time several letters from his
brokers establishing beyond a doubt that the
story he had told was true. As to the stolen
bonds, their whereabouts was as much a mys-
tery as ever, and Rad appeared to take not
the slightest interest in the matter. Since the
detective had been summoned, he had washed
his hands of all responsibility.
[108]


THE ROBBERY A MYSTERY
I think it was the morning after Clancy's
departure that Solomon handed me a pale
blue envelope bearing in the upper left-
hand corner the device of the Post-Dis-
patch. I laughed as I ripped it open; I had
almost forgotten Terry's existence. It con-
tained a characteristic pencil scrawl slanting
across a sheet of yellow copy paper.
“ARNOLD CROSBY, Esq.,
“Turnips Farm, Pumpkin Corners, Va.
“Dear Sir:
“Enclosed please find clipping. Are the
facts straight and have the missing bonds
turned up? If not, don’t you want me to run
down and find them for you? Should like to
meet an authenticated ghost. Would n’t be
a bad Sunday feature article. Give it my love.
Is it a man or lady? Things are also moving
nicely in New York—two murders and a child
abducted in one week.
“How are crops?
“Yours truly,
“T. P.
“Wire me if you want me.”
[109]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
The clipping was headed, “Spook Cracks
Safe,” and was a fairly accurate account of
the ha’nt and the robbery. It ended with the
remark that the mystery was as yet unsolved,
but that the best detective talent in the coun-
try had been engaged on the case.
I tossed the letter to Radnor with a laugh;
he had already heard of Terry's connection
with the Patterson-Pratt affair.
“Perhaps we could n’t do better than to get
him down,” I suggested; “he ’s most abnor-
mally keen at ferreting out a mystery that
promises any news—if any one can learn
the truth about those bonds, he can.”
“I don’t want to know the truth,” Radnor
growled. “I’m sick of the very name of
bonds.” -
And this had been his attitude from the
moment the detective left. My own insis-
tence that it was our duty to track down the
thief met with nothing but a shrug. Another
person might have suspected that this apathy
only proved his own culpability in the theft,
but such a suspicion never for a moment
crossed my mind. He was, as he said, sick of
[110]


THE ROBBERY A MYSTERY
the very name of bonds, and with a person of
his temperament that ended the matter.
Though I did not comprehend his attitude,
still I took him at his word. There was some-
thing about Rad's straightforward way of
looking one in the eye that impelled belief.
As I had heard the Colonel boast, a Gaylord
could not tell a lie. -
The things a Gaylord could and could not
do, were, I acknowledge, to a Northern ethi-
cal sense a trifle mystifying. A Gaylord
might drink and gamble and fail to pay his
debts (not his gambling debts; his tailor and
his grocer); he might be the hero of many
doubtful affairs with women; he might in a
sudden fit of passion commit a murder—there
was more than one killing in the family an-
nals—but under no circumstances would his
“honah” permit him to tell a lie. The reser-
vation struck me somewhat humorously as an
anti-climax. But nevertheless I believed it.
When Rad said he knew nothing of the stolen
bonds I dismissed the possibility from my
mind.
Though I was relieved to feel that he was
[111]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
not guilty, still I was worried and nervous
over the matter. I felt that it was criminal
not to do something, and yet my hands were
tied. I could scarcely undertake an investi-
gation myself, for every clue led across the
trail of the ha’nt, and that, Rad made it clear,
was forbidden ground. The Colonel, mean-
while, was comparatively quiet, as he sup-
posed the detective was still working on the
case. I accordingly did nothing, but I kept
my eyes open, hoping that something would
turn up.
Rad’s temper was absolutely unbearable
for the first week after the detective left. The
reason had nothing to do with the stolen
bonds, but was concerned entirely with Polly
Mathers's behavior. She barely noticed Rad's
existence, so occupied was she with the ec-
static young sheriff. What the trouble was,
I did not know, but I suspected that it was
the whispered conjectures in regard to the
ha’nt.
I remember one evening in particular that
she snubbed him in the face of the entire
neighborhood. We had arrived at a party a
[112]


THE ROBBERY A MYSTERY
trifle late to find Polly as usual the center of a
laughing group of young men, all clamoring
for dances. They widened their circle to ad-
mit Rad in a way which tacitly acknowledged
his prior claim. He inquired with his most
deferential bow what dances she had saved
for him. Polly replied in an off-hand man-
ner that she was sorry but her card was al-
ready full. Rad shrugged nonchalantly, and
sauntering toward the door, disappeared for
the rest of the night. When he turned up at
Four-Pools early in the morning, his horse,
Uncle Jake informed me, looked as if it had
been ridden by “de debbil hisself.”
With Radnor in this state, and the Colo-
nel growing daily more irritable over the con-
tinued mystery of the bonds, it is not strange
that matters between them were at a high
state of tension. As I saw more of the Colo-
nel’s treatment of Rad, I came to realize that
there was considerable excuse for Jefferson’s
wildness. While he was a kind man at heart,
still he had an ungovernable temper, and an
absolutely tyrannical desire to rule every one
about him. His was the only free will al-
8 [113]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
lowed on the place. He attempted to treat
Rad at twenty-two much as he had done at
twelve. A few months before my arrival (I
heard this later) he had even struck him,
whereupon Radnor had turned on his heel and
walked out of the house, and had only con-
sented to come back two weeks later when he
heard that the old man was ill. If two men
ever needed a woman to manage them, these
were the two. I think that if my aunt had
lived, most of the trouble would have been
avoided.
Rad was not the only one, however, who
felt the Colonel’s irritation over the robbery.
His treatment of the servants was harsh and
even cruel. Everybody on the place went
about in a half-cowed fashion. He treated
Mose like a dog. Why the fellow stood it, I
don’t know. The Colonel seemed never to
have learned that the old slave days were over
and that he no longer owned the negroes body
and soul. His government of the plantation
was in the manner of a despot. Everybody
—from his own son to the merest pickaninny
—was at the mercy of his caprice. When he
[114]


THE ROBBERY A MYSTERY
was in good humor, he was kindness itself to
the darkies; when he was in bad humor, he
vented his anger on whoever happened to be
nearest.
I shall never forget the feeling of indigna-
tion with which I first saw him strike a man.
A strange negro was caught one morning in
the neighborhood of the chicken coop, and
was brought up to the house by two of the sta-
ble-men. My uncle, who was standing on the
portico steps waiting for his horse, was in a
particularly savage mood, as he had just come
from an altercation with Radnor. The man
said that he was hungry and asked for work.
But the Colonel, almost without waiting to
hear him speak, fell upon him in a fit of blind
rage, slashing him half a dozen times over the
head and shoulders with his heavy riding crop.
The negro, who was a powerfully built fel-
low, instead of standing up and defending
himself like a man, crouched on the ground
with his arms over his head.
“Please, Cunnel Gaylord,” he whimpered,
“le me go! I ain’t done nuffen. I ain’t steal no
chickens. For Gord’s sake, doan whip me!”
[115]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
I sprang forward with an angry exclama-
tion and grasped my uncle's arm. The fellow
was on his feet instantly and off down the
lane without once glancing back. The Colo-
nel stood a moment looking from my indig-
nant face to the man disappearing in the dis-
tance, and burst out laughing.
“I reckon I won’t be troubled with him any
more,” he remarked as he mounted and rode
away, his good humor apparently quite re-
stored. -
I confess that it took me some time to get
over that scene. But the worst of it was that
he treated his own servants in the same sum-
mary fashion. The thing that puzzled me
most was the way in which they received it.
Mose, being always at hand, was cuffed about
more than any negro on the place, but as far
as I could make out, it only seemed to in-
crease his love and veneration for the Colonel.
I don’t believe the situation could ever be in-
telligible to a Northern man.
So matters stood when I had been a month
at Four-Pools. My vacation had lasted long
enough, but I was supremely comfortable
[116]


THE ROBBERY A MYSTERY
and very loath to go. The first few weeks of
May had been, to my starved city eyes, a daz-
zling pageant of beauty. The landscape
glowed with yellow daffodils, pink peach
blossoms, and the bright green of new wheat;
the fields were alive with the frisky joyous-
ness of spring lambs and colts, turned out to
pasture. It was with a keen feeling of reluc-
tance that I faced the prospect of New
York's brick and stone and asphalt. My
work was calling, but I lazily postponed my
departure from day to day.
Things at the plantation seemed to have
settled into their old routine. The wherea-
bouts of the bonds was still a mystery, but the
ha’nt had returned to his grave—at least, in so
far as any manifestations affected the house.
I believe that the “sperrit of de spring-hole”
had been seen rising once or twice from a
cloud of sulphurous smoke, but the excite-
ment was confined strictly to the negro quar-
ters. No man on the place who valued a
whole skin would have dared mention the
word “ha’nt” in Colonel Gaylord’s presence.
Relations between Rad and his father were
[117]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
rather less strained, and matters on the whole
were going pleasantly enough, when there
suddenly fell from a clear sky the strange and
terrible series of events which changed every-
thing at Four-Pools.
[118]


CHAPTER IX
THE EXPEDITION TO LURAY
r | WowARD eleven o’clock one morning,
the Colonel, Radnor and I were es-
tablished in lounging chairs in the
shade of a big catalpa tree on the lawn. It
was a warm day, and Rad and I were just
back from a tramp to the upper pasture—a
full mile from the house. We were address-
ing ourselves with considerable zest to the
frosted glasses that Solomon had just placed
on the table, when we became aware of the
sound of galloping hoofs, and a moment later
Polly Mathers and her sorrel mare, Tiger
Lilly, appeared at the end of the sunflecked
lane. An Irish setter romped at her side, and
the three of them made a picture. The horse's
shining coat, the dog's silky hair and Polly's
own red gold curls were almost of a color. I
believe the little witch had chosen the two on
[119]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
purpose. In her dark habit and mannish hat,
with sparkling cheeks and laughing eyes, she
was as pretty an apparition as ever enhanced
a May morning. She waved her crop gaily
and rode toward us across the lawn.
“Howdy!” she called, in a droll imitation
of the mountain dialect. “Ain’t you-uns
guine to ask me to 'light a while, an’ set a bit,
an’ talk a spell?”
Radnor's face had flushed quickly as he
perceived who the rider was, but he held him-
self stiffly in the background while the Col-
onel and I did the honors. It was the first
time, I know, that Polly and Rad had met
since the night she refused to dance with him;
and her appearance could only be interpreted
as a desire to make amends.
She sprang lightly to the ground, turned
Tiger Lilly loose to graze about the lawn,
and airily perched herself on the arm of a
chair. There was nothing in her manner, at
least, to suggest that her relations with any
one of us were strained. After a few mo-
ments of neighborly gossip with the Colonel
and me—Rad was monosyllabic and remote—
[120]


THE EXPEDITION TO LURAY
she arrived at her errand. Some friends from
Savannah were stopping at the Hall on their
way to the Virginia hot springs, and, as is
usual, when strangers visit the valley, they
were planning an expedition to Luray Cave.
The cave was on the other side of the moun-
tains about ten miles from Four-Pools. Since
I had not yet visited it (that was at least the
reason she gave) she had come to ask the three
of us to join the party on the following day.
Rad was sulky at first, and rather curtly
declined on the ground that he had to attend
to some business. But Polly scouted his ex-
cuse, and added significantly that Jim Mat-
tison had not been asked. He accepted this
mark of repentance with a pleased flush, and
before she rode away, he had become his for-
mer cheerful self again. The Colonel also de-
murred on the ground that he was getting too
old for such diversions, but Polly laid her
hands upon his shoulders and coaxed him into
acquiescence—even a mummy must have un-
bent before such persuasion. As a matter of
fact though, the Colonel was only too pleased
with his invitation. It flattered him to be in-
[121]


THE EXPEDITION TO LURAY
I rose early the next morning, and as I
went down stairs I saw Solomon crawling
around on his hands and knees on the parlor
floor, collecting the remnants of a French
clock which had stood on the mantelpiece.
“How did that clock come to be broken?”
I asked a trifle sharply, thinking I had caught
him in a bad piece of carelessness.
“Cayn’t say, sah,” Solomon returned, ris-
ing on his knees and looking at me mourn-
fully. “I specs ole Marsa been chastisin'
young Marsa again. It 's powe'ful destruc-
tive on de brick-yuh-brack.”
I went on out of doors, wondering sadly if
Radnor could have been drinking, and accus-
ing myself for not having gone to the party
and kept him straight. It was evident at
breakfast that something serious had hap-
pened between him and his father. The Col-
onel appeared unusually grave, and Rad,
after a gruff “good morning,” sat staring at
his plate in a dogged silence. Throughout the
meal he scarcely so much as exchanged a
glance with his father. I tried to talk as if I
noticed nothing; and in the course of the
[123]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
somewhat one-sided conversation, happened
to mention our proposed trip to Luray. Rad
returned that he had visited the cave a good
many times and did not care about going. I
was puzzled at this, for I knew that the cave
was not the chief attraction, but I discreetly
dropped the subject and shortly after we rose
from the table.
As I left the room I saw the Colonel walk
over and lay his hand on Radnor's arm.
“You will change your mind and go, my
boy,” he said.
But Rad shook the hand off roughly and
turned away. As I went on out to the stablesto
give orders about the horses, I felt in anything
but the proper spirits for a day of merry-mak-
ing. However much the Colonel may have
been to blame in their quarrel of the night be-
fore—and the French clock told its own story
—still I could not help but feel that Rad should
have borne with him more patiently. The
scene I had just witnessed in the dining-room
made me miserable. The Colonel was a proud
man and apology came hard for him, his son
might at least have met him half way.
[1241


THE EXPEDITION TO LURAY
Going upstairs to my room a few minutes
later, I caught a glimpse through the open
door, of someone standing before the mantel-
piece. Thinking it was Radnor waiting to
consult me, I hurried forward and reached
the threshold before I realized that it was the
Colonel. He was standing with folded arms
before the picture, his eyes, gleaming from
under beetling brows, were devouring it hun-
grily, line by line. His face was set rigidly
with a look—whether of sorrow or loneliness
or remorse, I do not know; but I do know
that it was the saddest expression I have ever
seen on any human face. It was as if, in a
single illuminating flash, he had looked into
his own soul, and seen the ruin that his un-
governed pride and passion had wrought
against those he loved the most.
So absorbed had he been with his thoughts,
that he had not heard my step. I turned and
stole away, realizing suddenly that he was an
old man, broken, infirm; that his life with its
influence for good or evil was already at an
end; he could never change his character now,
no matter how keenly he might realize his de-
[125I]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
fects. Poor little Nannie's wilfulness was at
last forgiven, but the forgiveness was fifteen
years too late. Why could not that moment
of insight have come earlier to Colonel Gay-
lord, have come in time to save him from his
mistakes?
I passed out of doors again, pondering
somewhat bitterly the exigencies of human
life. The bright spring morning with its
promise of youth and joy seemed jarringly
out of tune. The beauty was but surface
deep, I told myself pessimistically; under-
neath it was a cruel world. Before me in the
garden path, a jubilant robin was pulling an
unhappy angle worm from the ground, and a
little farther on, under a blossoming apple
tree, the kitchen cat was breakfasting on a
baby robin. The double spectacle struck me
as significant of life. I was casting about for
some philosophical truths to fit it, when my
revery was interrupted by a shout from Rad-
InOI".
I turned to find the horses—three of them
—waiting at the portico steps. Rad was go-
ing then after all. He and his father had evi-
[126]


THE EXPEDITION TO LURAY
dently patched up some sort of a truce, but I
soon saw that it was only a truce. The two
avoided crossing eyes, and as we rode along
they talked to me instead of to each other.
The party met at Mathers Hall. The plan
was for us to ride to Luray that morning,
spend most of the afternoon there, and then
return to the Hall for a supper and dance in
the evening. The elder ladies took the car-
riage, while the rest of us went on horseback,
a couple of servants following in the buck-
board with the luncheon. Mose, bare-feet,
linsey-woolsey and all, was brought along to
act as guide and he was fairly purring with
contentment at the importance it gave him
over the other negroes. It seems that he had
been in the habit of finding his way around in
the cave ever since he was a little shaver, and
he knew the route, Radnor told me, better
than the professional guides. He knew it so
well, in fact, that the entire neighborhood was
in the habit of borrowing him whenever expe-
ditions were being planned to Luray.
We left our horses at the village hotel, and
after eating a picnic lunch in the woods, set
[127]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
out to make the usual round of the cave. Lu-
ray has since been lighted with electricity and
laid out in cement walks, but the time of
which I am writing was before its exploita-
tion by the railroad, and the cavern was still
in its natural state. Each of us carried either
candles or a torch, and the guides were sup-
plied with calcium lights which they touched
off at intervals whenever there was any spe-
cial object of interest. This was the first cav-
ern of any size that I had ever visited and I
was so taken up with examining the rock for-
mations and keeping my torch from burning
my hands that I did not pay much attention
to the disposal of the rest of the party. It
took over two hours to make the round, and
we must have walked about five miles. What
with the heavy damp air and the slippery
path, I, for one, was glad to get out into the
sunshine again.
I joined the group about Polly Mathers
and casually asked if she knew where Radnor
had gone.
“I have n’t seen him for some time; I think
he must have come out before us,” she replied.
[128]


THE EXPEDITION TO LURAY
“And unless I am mistaken, Colonel Gay-
lord,” she added, turning to my uncle, “he left
my coat on that broken column above Crystal
Lake. I am afraid that he is n’t a very good
cavalier.”
The Colonel, I imagine, had been a very
good cavalier in his own youth, and I do not
think that he had entirely outgrown it.
“I will repair his fault, Miss Polly,” the
old man returned with a courtly bow, “and
prove to you that the boy does not take after
his father in lack of gallantry.”
“No, indeed, Colonel Gaylord!” Polly ex-
claimed. “I was only joking; I should n’t
think of letting you go back after it. One of
the servants can get it.”
I shortly after ran across Mose and sent
him back for the coat, and the incident was
forgotten. We straggled back to the hotel in
twos and threes; the horses were brought out,
and we got off amidst general confusion.
I rode beside the carriage for a couple of
miles exchanging courtesies with Mrs. Math-
ers, and then galloped ahead to join the other
riders. I was surprised to see neither my un-
9 [129]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
cle nor Radnor anywhere in sight, and in-
quired as to their whereabouts.
“I thought they were riding with you,” said
Polly, wheeling to my side. “You don’t sup-
pose,” she asked quickly, “that the Colonel
was foolish enough to go back for my coat,
and we’ve left him behind?”
One of the men laughed.
“He has a horse, Miss Polly, and he knows
how to use it. I dare say, even if we did leave
him behind, that he can find his way home.”
“I sent Mose back for the coat,” I re-
marked. “The Colonel probably feels that he
has had enough frivolity for one day, and has
preferred to ride straight on to Four-Pools.”
It occurred to me that Rad and his father
had ridden home together to make up their
quarrel, and the reflection added considera-
bly to my peace of mind. I had felt vaguely
uncomfortable over the matter all day, for I
knew that the old man was always miserable
after a misunderstanding with his son, and I
strongly suspected that Radnor himself was
far from happy.
When we arrived at Mathers Hall, Polly
[130]


THE EXPEDITION TO LURAY
slipped from her saddle and came running up
to me as I was about to dismount. She laid
her hand on the bridle and asked, in the sweet-
est way possible, if I would mind riding back
to the plantation to see if the Colonel were
really there, as she could not help feeling an-
xious about him. I noticed with a smile that
she made no comment on the younger man’s
defection, though I strongly suspected that
she was no less interested in that. I turned
about and galloped off again, willing enough
to do her bidding, though I could not help
reflecting that it would have been just as easy
for her, and considerably easier for me, had
she developed her anxiety a few miles back.
When I reached the four corners where the
road to Four-Pools branches off from the
valley turnpike, I saw the wagon coming with
the two Mathers negroes in it, but without
any sign of Mose. I drew up and waited for
them.
“Hello, boys!” I called. “What’s become
Of Mose?”
“Dat's moh 'n I can say, Mista Ahnold,”
one of the men returned. “We waited foh
[131I]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
him a powe'ful while, but it 'pears like he 's
'vaporated. I reckon he 's took to de woods
an is gwine to walk home. Dat Cat-Eye
Mose, he ’s monstrous fond ob walkin’!”
I do not know why this incident should have
aroused my own anxiety, but I pushed on to
the plantation with a growing feeling of un-
easiness. Nothing had been seen of either the
Colonel or Mose, Solomon informed me, but
he added with an excited rolling of his eyes:
“Marse Rad, he come back nearly an hour
ago an’ stomp roun’ like he mos' crazy, an’
den went out to de gahden.”
I followed him and found him sitting in the
summer house with his elbows on his knees
and his head in his hands.
“What 's the matter, Rad?” I cried in
alarm. “Has anything happened to your
father?”
He looked up with a start at the sound of
my voice, and I saw that his face was pale.
“My father?” he asked in a dazed way. “I
left him in the cave. Why do you ask?”
“He did n’t come back with the rest of us,
and Polly asked me to find him.”
[132]


THE EXPEDITION TO LURAY
“He’s old enough to take care of himself,”
said Radnor without looking up.
I hesitated a moment, uncertain what to do,
and then turned back to the stables to order a
fresh horse. To my astonishment I found the
stable-men gathered in a group about Rad’s
mare, Jennie Loo. She was dashed with
foam and trembling, and appeared to be
about used up. The men fell back and eyed
me silently as I approached.
“What's happened to the horse?” I cried.
“Did she run away?”
One of the men “reckoned” that “Marse
Rad” had been whipping her.
“Whipping her!” I exclaimed in dismay.
It was unbelievable, for no one as a rule was
kinder to animals than Radnor; and as for his
own Jennie Loo, he could n’t have cared more
for her if she had been a human being. There
was no mistaking it however. She was
crossed and recrossed with thick welts about
the withers; it was evident that the poor beast
had been disgracefully handled.
Uncle Jake volunteered that Rad had gal-
loped straight into the stable, had dropped
[133]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
the bridle and walked off without a word;
and he added the opinion that a “debbil had
done conjured him.” I was inclined to agree.
There seemed to be something in the air that
I did not understand, and my anxiety for the
Colonel suddenly rushed back fourfold. I
wheeled about and Ordered a horse in an un-
necessarily sharp tone, and the men jumped
to obey me.
It was just sunset as I mounted again and
galloped down the lane. For the second time
that day I set out along the lonely mountain
road leading to Luray, but this time with a
vague fear gripping at my heart. Why had
Radnor acted so strangely, I asked myself
again and again. Could it be connected with
last night's quarrel? And where was the Col-
onel, and where was Mose?
[1341


CHAPTER X.
THE TRAGEDY OF THE CAVE
T was almost dark by the time I reached
I the village of Luray. I galloped up to
the hotel where we had left our horses
that morning and without dismounting called
out to the loafers on the veranda to ask if
anyone had seen Colonel Gaylord. Two or
three of them, glad of a diversion, got up and
sauntered out to the stepping-stone where I
waited, to discuss the situation.
What was the matter? they inquired.
Had n’t the Colonel gone home with the rest
of the party?
No, he had not, I returned impatiently, and
I wanted to know if any of them had seen him.
They consulted together and finally decided
that no one had seen him, and at this the sta-
ble boy vouchsafed the information that Red
Pepper was still in the barn.
[135]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“I thought maybe the Colonel was intend-
ing to make me a present of that horse,” the
landlord observed with a grin, as he joined the
group.
A chuckle ran around the circle at this sally.
It was evident that the Colonel did not have
a reputation in the county for making pres-
ents. I impatiently gathered up my reins and
one of the men remarked:
“I reckon young Gaylord got home in good
time. He was in an almighty hurry when he
started. He did n’t stop for no farewells.”
With numerous interruptions and humor-
ous interpolations, they finally managed to
tell me in their exasperatingly slow drawl that
Rad had come back to the hotel that after-
noon before the rest of the party, had drunk
two glasses of brandy, called for his horse, and
galloped off without speaking a word to any-
one except to swear at the stable boy. The
speaker finished with the assertion that in his
opinion Rad Gaylord and Jeff Gaylord were
cut out of the same block.
I shifted my seat uneasily. This informa-
tion did not tend to throw any light on the
[136]


THE TRAGEDY OF THE CAVE
question of the Colonel's whereabouts, and I
was in no mood just then to listen to any more
gossip about Rad.
“I’m not looking for young Gaylord,” I
said shortly. “I know where he is. It’s the
Colonel I 'm after. Neither he nor Cat-
Eye Mose have come back, and I’m afraid
they’re lost in the cave.”
The men laughed at this. People did n’t
get lost in the cave, they said. All anyone had
to do was to follow the path; and besides, if
the Colonel was with Mose he could n’t get
lost if he tried. Mose knew the cave so well
that he could find his way around it in the
dark. Colonel Gaylord had probably met
some friends in the village and driven home
with them.
But I would not be satisfied with an expla-
nation of that sort. The Colonel, I knew, was
not in the habit of abandoning horses in any
such casual manner; and even supposing he
had gone home with some friends, he would
scarcely have taken Mose along.
I dismounted, turned my horse over to the
stable boy, and announced that the cave must
[137]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
be searched. This request was received with
some amusement. The idea of getting out a
search party for Cat-Eye Mose struck them
as peculiarly ludicrous. But I insisted, and
finally one of the men who was in the habit of
acting as guide, took his feet down from the
veranda railing with a grunt of disapproval
and shambled into the house after some can-
dles and a lantern. Two or three of the others
joined the expedition after a good deal of
chaffing at my expense.
We set out for the mouth of the cave by a
short cut that led across the fields. It was
quite dark by this time, and as there was no
moon our one lantern did not go far toward
lighting the path. We stumbled along over
plowed ground and through swampy pastures
to the music of croaking frogs and whip-poor-
wills. At first the way was enlivened by hu-
morous suggestions on the part of my com-
panions as to what had become of Colonel
Gaylord, but as I did not respond very freely
to their bantering, they finally fell silent with
only an occasional imprecation as someone
stubbed his toe or caught his clothing on a
[138]


THE TRAGEDY OF THE CAVE
brier. After a half hour or so of plodding we
came to a clear path through the woods and
in a few minutes reached the mouth of the
CaVe.
A rough little shanty was built over the en-
trance. It was closed by a ramshackle door
which a child could have opened without any
difficulty; there was at least no danger of the
Colonel’s having been locked inside. Light-
ing our candles, we descended the rough stone
staircase into the first great vault, which
forms a sort of vestibule to the caverns. With
our hands to our mouths we hallooed several
times and then held our breath while we
waited for an answer. The only sound which
came out of the stillness was the occasional
drip of water or the flap of a bat's wing. Had
the Colonel been lost in any of the winding
passages he must have heard us and replied,
for the slightest sound is audible in such a
cavern, echoing and re-echoing as it does
through countless vaulted galleries. The si-
lence, however, instead of assuring me that he
was not there only increased my uneasiness.
What if he had slipped on the wet clay, and
[139]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
having injured himself, was lying uncon-
scious in the darkness?
The men wished to turn back, but I insisted
that we go as far as the broken column which
lies in a little gallery above Crystal Lake.
That was the place where the coat had been
left, and we could at least find out if either the
Colonel or Mose had returned for it. We set
out in single file along the damp clay path,
the light from our few candles only serving to
intensify the blackness around us. The huge
white forms of the stalactites seemed to fol-
low us like ghosts in the gloom; every now and
then a bat flapped past our faces, and I won-
dered with a shiver how anyone could get up
courage to go alone into such a hole as that.
“Crystal Lake” is a shallow pool lying in a
sort of bowl. On the farther side the path
runs up seven or eight feet above the water
along the broken edge of a cliff. A few steps
beyond the pool the path diverges sharply to
the left and opens into the little gallery of the
broken column.
Just as we were about to ascend the two or
three stone steps leading to the incline, the
[140] *


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
must go back an’ get the coroner. It’s agen
the law to touch the body until he comes.”
It went to my heart to leave the old manly-
ing there at the bottom of that pool, but I
could not prevail on one of them to help me
move him. The coroner must be brought,
they stubbornly insisted, and they restrained
me forcibly when I would have waded into
the water. We turned back with shaking
knees and hurried toward the mouth of the
cave, slipping and sliding in the wet clay as
we ran. I, for one, felt as though a dozen
assassins were following our footsteps in the
dark. And all the time I had a sickening feel-
ing that my uncle's death only foreshadowed
a more terrible tragedy. The guide's: “This
ain’t no accident; it ’s murder,” kept running
in my head, and much as I tried to drive the
thought from me, a horrible suspicion came
creeping to my mind that I knew who the
murderer must be.
**
[142]


CHAPTER XI
THE SHERIFF VISITS FOUR-POOLS
E found the coroner and told our
story. He sent word to Kennis-
burg, the county-seat, for the
sheriff to come; and then having called a doc-
tor and three or four other witnesses, we set
out again for the cave. The news of the trag-
edy had spread like wild-fire, and half the
town of Luray would have accompanied us
had the coroner not forcibly prevented it.
He stationed two men at the entrance of the
cave to keep the crowd from pushing in. I
myself should have been more than willing to
wait outside, but I felt that it was my duty by
Radnor to be present. If any discoveries
were made I wished to be the first to know it.
It was sad business and I will not dwell
upon it. One side of the old man's head had
been fractured by a heavy blow. He had been
[143]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
dead several hours when we found him, but
the doctor could not be certain whether
drowning, or the injury he had sustained, had
been the immediate cause of death. Dangling
from a jagged piece of rock half way down
the cliff, we found Polly Mathers's coat, torn
and drabbled with mud. The clay path above
the pool was trampled in every direction’way
out to the brink of the precipice; it was evi-
dent, even to the most untrained observer, that
a fierce struggle of some sort had taken place.
I was the first one to examine the marks, and
as I knelt down and held the light to the
ground, I saw with a thrill of mingled horror
and hope that one pair of feet had been bare.
Mose had taken part in the struggle, and
dreadful as was the assurance, it was infinitely
better than that other suspicion.
“It was Mose who committed the murder!”
I cried to the coroner as I pointed to the foot-
prints in the clay.
He bent over beside me and examined the
marks.
& ©
Mose was present,” he said slowly,
“but so was someone else. See, here is the
[144]


THE SHERIFF
print of the Colonel's boot and there beside it
is the print of another boot; it is fully an inch
broader.”
But it was difficult to make out anything
clearly, so trampled was the path. Our
whole party had passed over the very spot
not an hour before the tragedy. What-
ever the others could see, I, myself, was blind
to everything but the indisputable fact that
Mose had been there.
As we were making ready to start back to
the mouth of the cave, a cry from one of the
men called our attention again to the scene of
the struggle. He held up in his hand a
small, gleaming object which he had found
trodden into the path. It was a silver match
box covered with dents and mud and marked
“R. F. G.” I recognized it instantly; I had
seen Radnor take it from his pocket a hun-
dred times. As I looked at it now my hope
seemed to vanish and that same sickening sus-
picion rushed over me again. The men eyed
each other silently, and I did not have to ask
what they were thinking of. We turned with-
out comments and started on our journey
10 [145]


THE SHERIFF
known him all my life and I can swear he's
innocent.”
“You’ve known Radnor all your life,” I re-
turned bitterly.
“Yes,” he said, “I have—and Jefferson
Gaylord, too.”
I rode on in silence and I do not think I
ever hated anyone as, for the moment, I hated
the man beside me. I knew that he was think-
ing of Polly Mathers, and I imagined that I
could detect an undertone of triumph in his
voice.
“It’s well known,” he went on, half to him-
self and half to me, “that Radnor sometimes
had high words with his father; and to-day,
they tell me at the hotel, he came back alone
without waiting for the others, and while his
horse was being saddled he drank off two
glasses of brandy as if they had been water.
All the men on the veranda marked how white
his face was, and how he cursed the stable boy
for being slow. It was evident that some-
thing had happened in the cave, and what
with finding his match box at the scene of
the crime-circumstantial evidence is pretty
strong against him.”
[147]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
I was too miserable to think of any answer;
and, the fellow finally having the decency to
keep quiet, we galloped the rest of the way in
silence.
Though it must have been long after mid-
night when we reached the house, lights were
still burning in the downstairs rooms. We
rode up to the portico with considerable
clamor and dismounted. One of the men held
the horses while Mattison and the other fol-
lowed me into the house. Rad himself, hear-
ing the noise of our arrival, came to the door
to meet us. He was quite composed again
and spoke in his usual manner.
“Hello, Arnold! Did you find him, and is
the party over?”
He stopped uncertainly as he caught sight
of the others. They stepped into the hall and
stood watching him a moment without saying
anything. I tried to tell him but the words
seemed to stick in my throat.
“A—a terrible thing has happened, Rad,” I
stammered out.
“What 's the matter?” he asked, a sudden
look of anxiety springing to his face.
[148]


THE SHERIFF
“I am sorry, Rad,” Mattison replied, “but
it is my duty to arrest you.”
“To arrest me, for what?” he asked with a
half laugh.
“For the murder of your father.”
Radnor put out his hand against the wall to
steady himself, and his lips showed white in
the lamp light. At the sight of his face I
could have sworn that he was not acting, and
that the news came with as much of a shock to
him as it had to me.
“My father murdered!” he gasped. “What
do you mean?”
“His dead body was found in the cave, and
circumstantial evidence points to you.”
He seemed too dazed to grasp the words
and Mattison said it twice before he compre-
hended.
“Do you mean he ’s dead?” Rad repeated.
“And I quarrelled with him last night and
would n’t make it up—and now it’s too late.”
“I must warn you,” the sheriff returned,
“that whatever you say will be used against
you.”
“I am innocent,” said Radnor, brokenly,
[149]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
and without another word he prepared to go.
Mattison drew some hand-cuffs from his
pocket, and Radnor looked at them with a
dark flush.
“You need n’t be afraid. I am not going
to run away,” he said. Mattison dropped
them back again with a muttered apology.
I went out to the stable with one of the men
and helped to saddle Jennie Loo. I felt all
the time as though I had hold of the rope that
was going to hang him. When we came back
he and the sheriff were standing on the por-
tico, waiting. Rad appeared to be more com-
posed than any of us, but as I wrung his hand
I noticed that it was icy cold.
“I’ll attend to everything,” I said, “and
don’t worry, my boy. We’ll get you off.”
“Don’t worry!” He laughed shortly as he
leaped into the saddle. “It’s not myself I’m
worrying over; I am innocent,” and he sud-
denly leaned forward and scanned my face in
the light from the open door. “You believe
me?” he asked quickly.
“Yes,” I cried, “I do! And what 's more,
I’ll prove you’re innocent.”
[150]


CHAPTER, XII
I MAKE A PROMISE TO POLLY
HE next few days were a nightmare
| to me. Even now I cannot think of
that horrible period of suspense and
doubt without a shudder. The coroner set to
work immediately upon his preliminary inves-
tigation, and every bit of evidence that turned
up only seemed to make the proof stronger
against Radnor.
It is strange how ready public opinion is to
believe the worst of a man when he is down.
No one appeared to doubt Rad's guilt, and
feeling ran high against him. Colonel Gay-
lord was a well-known character in the coun-
try-side, and in spite of his quick temper and
rather imperious bearing he had been a gen-
eral favorite. At the news of his death a wave
of horror and indignation swept through the
valley. Among the roughs in the village I
[151]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
heard not infrequent hints of lynching; and
even among the more conservative element,
the general opinion seemed to be that lawful
hanging was too honorable a death for the
perpetrator of so brutal a crime.
I have never been able to understand the
quick and general belief in the boy's guilt, but
I have always suspected that the sheriff did
not do all in his power to quiet the feeling. It
was to a large extent, however, the past re-
asserting itself. Though Radnor's record
was not so black as it was painted, still, it was
not so white as it should have been. People
shook their heads and repeated stories of how
wild he had been as a boy, and how they had
always foreseen some such end as this. Re-
ports of the quarrels with his father were told
and retold until they were magnified beyond
all recognition. The old scandals about Jeff
were revived again, and the general opinion
seemed to be that the Gaylord boys were de-
generates through and through. Rad’s per-
sonal friends stood by him staunchly; but they
formed a pitifully small minority compared to
the general sensation-seeking public.
[152]


I MAKE A PROMISE TO POLLY
I visited Radnor in the Kennisburg jail on
the morning of my uncle's funeral and found
him quite broken in spirit. He had had time
to think over the past, and with his father ly-
ing dead at Four-Pools, it had not been pleas-
ant thinking. Now that it was too late, he
seemed filled with remorse over his conduct
toward the old man, and he dwelt continually
on the fact of his having been unwilling to
make up the quarrel of the night before the
murder. In this mood of contrition he merci-
lessly accused himself of things I am sure he
had never done. I knew that the jailer was
listening to every word outside, and I became
unspeakably nervous for fear he would say
something which could be twisted into an in-
criminating confession. He did not seem to
comprehend in the least the danger of his own
position; he was entirely taken up with the
horror of his father's death. As I was leav-
ing, however, he suddenly grasped my hand
with tears in his eyes.
“Tell me, Arnold, do people really believe
me guilty?”
I knew by “people” he meant Polly Math-
[153]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
ers; but I had not had an opportunity to
speak with her alone since the day of the
tragedy.
“I have n’t talked to anyone but the
sheriff,” I returned.
“Mattison would be glad enough to prove
it,” Radnor said bitterly, and he turned his
back and stood staring through the iron bars
of the window, while I went out and the
jailer closed the door and locked it.
All through the funeral that afternoon I
could scarcely keep my eyes from Polly Ma-
thers's face. She appeared so changed since the
day of the picnic that I should scarcely have
known her for the same person; it seemed
incredible that three days could make such a
difference in a bright, healthy, vigorous girl.
All her youthful vivacity was gone; she was
pale and spiritless with deep rings beneath her
eyes and the lids red with crying. After the
services were over, I approached her a mo-
ment as she stood in her black dress aloof
from the others at the edge of the little family
burying-ground. She greeted me with a
tremulous smile, and then as her glance wan-
[154]


I MAKE A PROMISE TO POLLY
dered back to the pile of earth that two men
were already shoveling into the grave, her
eyes quickly filled with tears.
“I loved him as much as if he were my own
father,” she cried, “and it’s my fault that he’s
dead. I made him go!”
“No, Polly, it is not your fault,” I said de-
cisively. “It was a thing which no one could
foresee and no one could help.”
She waited a moment trying to steady her
voice, then she looked up pleadingly in my
face.
“Radnor is innocent; tell me you believe it.”
“I am sure he is innocent,” I replied.
“Then you can clear him—you ’re a law-
yer. I know you can clear him!”
“You may trust me to do my best, Polly.”
“I hate Jim Mattison!” she exclaimed, with
a flash of her old fire. “He swears that Rad
is guilty and that he will prove him so. Rad
may have done some bad things, but he ’s a
good man—better than Jim Mattison ever
thought of being.”
“Polly,” I said with a touch of bitterness,
“I wish you might have realized that truth
[155]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
earlier. Rad is at heart as splendid a chap as
ever lived, and his friends ought never to have
allowed him to go astray.”
She looked away without answering, and
then in a moment turned back to me and held
out her hand.
“Good-by. When you see him again please
tell him what I said.”
As she turned away I looked after her, puz-
zled. I was sure at last that she was in love
with Radnor, and I was equally sure that he
did not know it; for in spite of his sorrow at
his father's death and of the suspicion that
rested on him, I knew that he would not have
been so completely crushed had he felt that
she was with him. Why must this come to
him now too late to do him any good, when he
had needed it so much before? I felt momen-
tarily enraged at Polly. It seemed somehow
as if the trouble might have been avoided had
she been more straightforward. Then at the
memory of her pale face and pleading eyes I
relented. However thoughtless she had been
before, she was changed now; this tragedy
had somehow made a woman of her over
[156]


I MAKE A PROMISE TO POLLY
night. When Radnor came at last to claim
her, they would each, perhaps, be worthier of
the other.
I returned to the empty house that night
and sat down to look the facts squarely in the
face. I had hitherto been so occupied with
the necessary preparations for the funeral,
and with instituting a search for Cat-Eye
Mose, that I had scarcely had time to think, let
alone map out any logical plan of action.
Radnor was so stunned by the blow that he
could barely talk coherently, and as yet I had
had no satisfactory interview with him.
Immediately after the Colonel's death, I
had very hastily run over his private papers,
but had found little to suggest a clue.
Among some old letters were several from
Nannie's husband, written at the time of her
sickness and death; their tone was bitter.
Could the man have accomplished a tardy re-
venge for past insults? I asked myself. But
investigation showed this theory to be most
untenable. He was still living in the little
Kansas village where she had died, had mar-
ried again, and become a peaceful plodding
[157]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
citizen. It required all his present energy to
support his wife and children—I dare say the
brief episode of his first marriage had almost
faded from his mind. There was not the
slightest chance that he could be implicated.
I sifted the papers again, thoroughly and
painstakingly, but found nothing that would
throw any light upon the mystery. While I was
still engaged with this task, a message came
from the coroner saying that the formal in-
quest would begin at ten o’clock the next
morning in the Kennisburg court-house. This
gave me no chance to plan any sort of cam-
paign, and I could do little more than let mat-
ters take their course. I hoped however that
in the progress of the inquest, some clue
would be brought to light which would render
Radnor's being remanded for trial impossible.
So far, I had to acknowledge, the evidence
against him appeared overwhelming. A mo-
tive was supplied in the fact that the Colonel's
death would leave him his own master and a
rich man. The well-known fact of their fre-
quent quarrels, coupled with Radnor's fierce
temper and somewhat revengeful disposition,
[158]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“To throw suspicion on Mose.”
This was the universal opinion; no one,
from the beginning, would listen to a word
against Mose. In his case, as well as in Rad-
nor’s, the past was speaking. Through
all his life, they said, he had faithfully
loved and served the Colonel, and if necessity
required, he would willingly have died for
him.
But for myself, I continued to believe in
the face of all opposition, that Mose was
guilty. It was more a matter of feeling with
me than of reasoning. I had always been sus-
picious of the fellow; a man with eyes like
that was capable of anything. The objection
which the sheriff raised that Colonel Gaylord
was both larger and stronger than Mose and
could easily have overcome him, proved noth-
ing to my mind. Mose was a small man, but
he was long-armed and wirey, doubtless far
stronger than he looked; besides, he had
been armed, and the nature of his weapon was
clear. The floor of the cave was strewn with
scores of broken stalactites; nothing could
have made a more formidable weapon than
[160]


I MAKE A PROMISE TO POLLY
one of these long pieces of jagged stone used
as a club.
As to the motive for the crime, who could
tell what went on in the slow workings of his
mind? The Colonel had struck him more than
once—unjustly, I did not doubt—and though
he seemed at the moment to take it meekly,
might he not have been merely biding his
time? His final revenge may have been the
outcome of many hoarded grievances that no
one knew existed. The fellow was more than
half insane. What more likely than that he
had attacked his master in a fit of animal pas-
sion; and then, terrified at the result, escaped
to the woods? That seemed to me the only
plausible explanation.
No facts had come out concerning the ha’nt
or the robbery, and I do not think that either
was connected in the public mind with the
murder. But to my mind the death of Colo-
nel Gaylord was but the climax of the long
series of events which commenced on the night
of my arrival with the slight and ludicrous ep-
isode of the stolen roast chicken. I had been
convinced at the time that Mose was at the
11 [161]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
bottom of it, and I was convinced now that he
was also at the bottom of the robbery and the
murder. How Radnor had got drawn into
the muddle of the ha’nt, I could not fathom;
but I suspected that Mose had hoodwinked
him as he had the rest of us.
Assuming that my theory was right, then
Mose was hiding; and all my energies from
the beginning had been bent toward his dis-
covery. The low range of mountains which
lay between Four-Pools Plantation and the
Luray valley was covered thickly with woods
and very sparsely settled. Mose knew every
foot of the ground; he had wandered over
these mountains for days at a time, and must
have been familiar with many hiding places.
It was in this region that I hoped to find him.
Immediately after the Colonel's death I
had offered a large reward either for Mose's
capture, or for any information regarding his
whereabouts. His description had been tele-
graphed all up and down the valley and every
farmer was on the alert. Bands of men had
been formed and the woods scoured for him,
but as yet without result. I was hourly ex-
[162]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
to shield any one? Do you know who killed
your father?”
“I know no more about who killed my
father than you do.”
“Do you know about the ha’nt?”
“Yes,” he said desperately, “I do; but it is
not connected with either the robbery or the
murder and I cannot talk about it.”
I argued and pleaded but to no effect. He
sat on his cot, his head in his hands staring at
the floor, stubbornly refusing to open his lips.
I gave over pleading and stormed.
“It’s no use, Arnold,” he said finally. “I
won’t tell you anything about the ha’nt; it
does n’t enter into the case.”
I sat down again and patiently outlined my
theory in regard to Mose.
“It is impossible,” he declared. “I have
known Mose all my life, and I have never yet
known him to betray a trust. He loved my
father as much as I did, and if my life de-
pended on it, I should swear that he was faith-
ful.”
“Rad,” I beseeched, “I am not only your
attorney, I am your friend; whatever you say
[164]


I MAKE A PROMISE TO POLLY
to me is as if it had never been said. I must
know the truth.”
He shook his head.
“I have nothing to say.”
“You have got to have something to say,” I
cried. “You have got to go on the stand and
make an absolutely open and straightforward
statement of everything bearing on the case.
You have got to appear anxious to find and
punish the man who murdered your father.
You have got to gain public sympathy, and
before you go on the stand you owe it to your-
self and me to leave nothing unexplained be-
tween us.”
He raised his eyes miserably to mine.
“Must I go on?” he asked. “Can’t I refuse
to testify—I don’t see that they can punish
me for contempt of court; I’m already in
prison.”
“They can hang you,” said I, bluntly.
He buried his face in his hands with a
groan.
“Arnold,” he pleaded, “don’t make me face
all those people. You can see what a state my
nerves are in; I have n’t slept for three
[165]


I MAKE A PROMISE TO POLLY
Radnor's face flushed and a quick light
sprang into his eyes.
“What do you mean?”
I repeated what Polly had said and I added
my own interpretation. The effect was elec-
trical. He straightened his shoulders with an
air of trying to throw off his despondency.
“I’ll do my best,” he promised. “Heaven
knows I’d like to know the truth as well as
you—this doubt is simply hell!”
A knock sounded on the door and a sher-
iff's officer informed us that the hearing was
about to begin.
“You have n’t explained your actions on
the day of the murder,” I said hurriedly. “I
must have a reason.”
“That’s all right—it will come out. If you
just keep ’em off the ha’nt, I’ll clear every-
thing else.”
“If you do that,” said I, immeasurably re-
lieved, “there 'll be no danger of your being
held for trial.” I rose and held out my hand.
“Courage, my boy; remember that you are
going to prove your innocence, not only for
your own, but for Polly's sake.”
[167]


CHAPTER XIII
THE INQUEST
HE coroner's court was packed; and
| though here and there I caught a face
that I knew to be friendly to Radnor,
the crowd was made up for the most part of
morbid sensation seekers, eager to hear and
believe the worst.
The District Attorney was present; indeed
he and the coroner and Jim Mattison were
holding a whispered consultation when I en-
tered the room, and I did not doubt but that
the three had been working up the case to-
gether. The thought was not reassuring; a
coroner, with every appearance of fairness,
may still bias a jury by the form his questions
take. And I myself was scarcely in a posi-
tion to turn the trend of the inquiry; I doubt
if a lawyer ever went to an inquisition with
less command of the facts than I had.
The first witness called was the doctor who
[168]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
He drunk two glasses straight off without
blinkin’.”
“Had he ordered anything to drink in the
morning when they left their horses?” the
coroner interrupted at this point.
“No, he did n’t go into the bar-room—and
it was n’t usually his custom to slight us
either.” -
A titter ran around the room and the coro-
ner rapped for order. “This is not the place
for any cheap witticisms; you will kindly con-
fine yourself to answering my questions.—
Did Mr. Gaylord appear to have been drink-
ing when he returned from the cave?”
The landlord closed his right eye specula-
tively. “No, I can’t say as he exactly ap-
peared like he ’d been drinking,” he said with
the air of a connoisseur, “but he did seem to
be considerably upset about something. He
looked mad enough to bite; his face was pale,
and his hand trembled when he raised his
glass. Three or four noticed it and won-
dered—” -
“Very well,” interrupted the coroner,
“what did he do next?”
[170]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
Jake nodded with a grin. “I don’t remem-
ber just the words—I get swore at so much
that it don’t make the impression it might—
but it was good straight cussin’ all right.”
“And he struck you as being agitated?”
Jake's grin broadened. “I think you might
say agitated,” he admitted guardedly. “He
was mad enough to begin with, an’ now the
brandy was gettin’ to work. Besides, he was
in an all-fired hurry to leave before the rest o'
the party come back, an’ while I was bringin'
out the horse, he heard 'em laughin'. They
was n’t in sight yet, but they was makin’ a lot
o’ noise. One o’ the girls had stepped on a
snake an’ was squealin’ loud enough to hear
her two miles off.”
“And Gaylord left before any of them saw
him?”
The boy nodded. “He got off all right.
‘You forgot to pay for your horse, I yelled
after him, and he threw me fifty cents and it
landed in the watering-trough.”
This ended his testimony.
Several members of the picnic party were
next called upon, and nothing very damaging
[172]


THE INQUEST
to Radnor was produced. He seemed to be
in his usual spirits before entering the cave,
and no one, it transpired, had seen him after
he came out, though this was not noted at the
time. Also, no one had noticed him in conver-
sation with his father. The coroner dwelt
upon this point, but elicited no information
one way or the other.
Polly Mathers was not present. She had
been subpoenaed, but had become too ill and
nervous to stand the strain, and the doctor had
forbidden her attendance. The coroner, how-
ever, had taken her testimony at the house, and
his clerk read it aloud to the jury. It dealt
merely with the matter of the coat and where
she had last seen Radnor.
“Question. ‘Did you notice anything pecu-
liar in the behavior of Radnor Gaylord on the
day of his father's death?’
“Answer. “Nothing especially peculiar—
no.”
“Q. ‘Did you see any circumstance which
led you to suspect that he and his father were
not on good terms?’
“A. ‘No, they both appeared as usual.”
[173]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“Q. ‘Did you speak to Radnor in the cave?”
“A. ‘Yes, we strolled about together for a
time and he was carrying my coat. He laid
it down on the broken column and forgot it.
I forgot it too and did n’t think of it again
until we were out of the cave. Then I hap-
pened to mention it in Colonel Gaylord’s pres-
ence, and I suppose he went back for it.’
“Q. “You did n’t see Radnor Gaylord after
he left the cave?”
“A. ‘No, I did n’t see him after we left the
gallery of the broken column. The guide
struck off a calcium light to show us the for-
mation of the ceiling. We spent about five
minutes examining the room, and after that
we all went on in a group. Radnor had not
waited to see the room, but had gone on ahead
in the direction of the entrance.’”
So much for Polly's testimony—which
added nothing.
Solomon, frightened almost out of his wits,
was called on next, and his testimony brought
out the matter of the quarrel between Col-
onel Gaylord and Radnor. Solomon told of
finding the French clock, and a great many
[174]


THE INQUEST
things besides which I am sure he made up.
I wished to have his testimony ruled out, but
the coroner seemed to feel that it was sug-
gestive—as it undoubtedly was—and he al-
lowed it to remain.
Radnor himself was next called to the stand.
As he took his place a murmur of excitement
swept over the room and there was a general
straining forward. He was composed and
quiet, and very very sober—every bit of ani-
mation had left his face.
The coroner commenced immediately with
the subject of the quarrel with his father on
the night before the murder, and Radnor
answered all the questions frankly and openly.
He made no attempt to gloss over any of the
details. What put the matter in a peculiarly
bad light, was the fact that the cause of the
quarrel had been over a question of money.
Rad had requested his father to settle a defi-
nite amount on him so that he would be inde-
pendent in the future, and his father had re-
fused. They had lost their tempers and had
gone further than usual; in telling the story
Radnor openly took the blame upon himself
[175]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
where, in several instances, I strongly sus-
pected that it should have been laid at the door
of the Colonel. But in spite of the fact that
the story revealed a pitiable state of affairs as
between father and son, his frankness in as-
suming the responsibility won for him more
sympathy than had been shown since the
murder.
“How did the clock get broken?” the cor-
oner asked.
“My father knocked it off the mantelpiece
onto the floor.”
“He did not throw it at you as Solomon
surmised?”
Radnor raised his head with a glint of
anger.
“It fell on the floor and broke.”
“Have you often had quarrels with your
father?”
“Occasionally. He had a quick temper and
always wished his own way, and I was not so
patient with him as I should have been.”
“What did you quarrel about?”
“Different things.”
“What, for instance?”
[176]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
Upon being urged to give the gist of the con-
versation he replied that his father had wished
to make up their quarrel, but on the old basis,
and he had refused. The Colonel had re-
peated that he was still too young a man to
give over his affairs into the hands of another,
—that he had a good many years before him
in which he intended to be his own master.
Radnor had replied that he was too old a man
to be treated any longer as a boy, and that he
would go away and work where he would be
paid for what he did.
“And may I ask,” the coroner inquired
placidly, “whether you had any particular
work in mind when you made that statement,
or was it merely a figure of rhetoric calculated
to bring Colonel Gaylord to terms?”
Rad scowled and said nothing, and the rest
of his answers were terseness itself. -
“Did you and your father have any further
conversation on the ride over, or in the course
of the day?”
“No.”
“You purposely avoided meeting each
Other?”
[178]


THE INQUEST
“I suppose so.”
“Then those words after breakfast when
you threatened to leave home were abso-
lutely the last words you ever spoke to your
father?”
It was a subject Radnor did not like to
think about. His lips trembled slightly and
he answered with a visible effort.
“Yes.”
A slight murmur ran around the room,
partly of sympathy, partly of doubt.
The coroner put the same question again
and Radnor repeated his answer, this time
with a flush of anger. The coroner paused a
moment and then continued without com-
ment:
“You entered the cave with the rest of the
party?”
“Yes.”
“But you left the others before they had
made the complete round?”
“Yes.”
“Why was that?”
“I was not particularly interested. I had
seen the cave many times before.”
[179]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“Where did you leave the party?”
“I believe in the gallery of the broken col-
umn.”
“You left the cave immediately?”
“Yes.”
“Did you enter it again?”
“NO.”
“You forgot Miss Mathers's coat and left it
in the gallery of the broken column?”
“So it would seem.”
“Did you not think of that later and go
back for it?”
Radnor snapped out his answer. “No, I
did n’t think anything about the coat.”
“Are you in the habit of leaving young la-
dies’ coats about in that off-hand way?”
A titter ran about the room, and Rad did
not deign to notice this question.
I was indignant that the boy should be made
to face such an ordeal. This was not a regu-
lar trial and the coroner had no right to be
more obnoxious than his calling required.
There was a glint of anger in Radnor's eyes;
and I was uneasily aware that he no longer
cared what impression he made. His answers
[180]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
some reason he had veered completely, and his
manner warned me not to push the matter. I
took my seat and the questioning continued.
“Mr. Gaylord,” said the coroner, severely,
“you have heard the evidence respecting your
peculiar behavior when you returned to the
hotel. Three witnesses have stated that you
were in an unnaturally perturbed condition.
Is this true?”
Radnor supposed it must be true. He did
not wish to question the gentlemen's veracity.
He did not remember himself what he had
done, but there seemed to be plenty of wit-
nesses who did remember.
“Can you give any reasons for your strange
conduct?”
“I have told you several times already that
I can not. I did not feel well, and that is all
there was to it.”
A low murmur of incredulity ran around
the room. It was evident to everyone that he
was holding something back, and I could see
that he was fast losing the sympathy he had
gained in the beginning. I myself was at a
loss to account for his behavior; as I was ab-
[182]


THE INQUEST
solutely in the dark, however, I could do noth-
ing but let matters take their course. Rad-
nor was excused with this, and the next half
hour was spent in a consideration of the foot-
prints that were found in the clay path at the
scene of the murder. The marks of Cat-Eye
Mose were admitted immediately, but the
others occasioned considerable discussion.
Facsimiles of the prints were produced and
compared with the riding boots which the Col-
onel and Radnor had worn at the time. The
Colonel’s print was unmistakable, but I my-
self did not think that the alleged print of
Radnor's boot tallied very perfectly with the
boot itself. The jury seemed satisfied how-
ever, and Radnor was called upon for an ex-
planation. His only conjecture was that it
was the print he had left when he passed over
the path on his way to the entrance.
The print was not in the path, he was in-
formed; it was in the wet clay on the edge of
the precipice. -
Radnor shrugged. In that case it could
not be the print of his boot. He had kept to
the path.
[183]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
In regard to the match box he was equally
unsatisfactory. He acknowledged that it
was his, but could no more account for its
presence in the path than the coroner himself.
“When do you remember having seen it
last?” the coroner inquired.
Radnor pondered. “I remember lending
it to Mrs. Mathers when she was building a
fire in the woods to make the coffee; after that
I don’t remember anything about it.”
“How do you account for its presence at
the scene of the murder?”
“I can only conjecture that it must have
dropped from my pocket without my noticing
it on my way out of the cave.”
The coroner observed that it was an unfor-
tunate coincidence that he had dropped it in
just that particular spot.
This effectually stopped Radnor's testi-
mony. Not another word could be elicited
from him on the subject, and he was finally
dismissed and Mrs. Mathers called to the
stand.
She remembered borrowing the match box,
but then someone had called her away and she
[184]


THE INQUEST
could not remember what she had done with it.
She thought she must have returned it because
she always did return things, but she was not
at all sure. Very possibly she had kept it, and
dropped it herself on her way out of the cave.
It was evident that she did not wish to say
anything which would incriminate Radnor;
and she was really too perturbed to remember
what she had done. Several other people
were questioned, but no further light could be
thrown on the subject of the match box; and
so it remained in the end, as it had been in the
beginning, merely a very nasty piece of cir-
cumstantial evidence.
This ended the hearing for the day, and the
inquest was postponed until ten o’clock the
following morning. So far, no word had been
dropped touching the ha'nt, but I was filled
with apprehension as to what the next day
would bring forth. I knew that if the subject
came up, it would end once for all Radnor's
chances of escaping trial before the grand
jury. And that would mean, at the best, two
months more of prison. What it would mean
at the worst I did not like to consider.
[185]


THE JURY'S WERDICT
“Yes.”
“Please describe just what was stolen.”
“Five bonds—Government four per cents
—a bag of coin—about twenty dollars in all—
and two deeds and an insurance policy.”
“You have not been able to trace the thief?”
“NO.”
“In spite of every effort?”
“Well, we naturally looked into the mat-
ter.”
“But you have been able to form no theory
as to how the bonds were stolen?”
“No, I have no theory whatever.”
“You employed a detective I believe?”
“Yes”
“And he arrived at no theory?”
Radnor hesitated visibly while he framed
an anSWer.
“He arrived at no theory which successfully
covered the facts.”
“But he did have a theory as to the where-
abouts of the bonds, did he not?”
“Yes—but it was without any foundation
and I prefer not to go into it.”
The coroner abandoned the point. “Mr.
[187]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
Gaylord, there has lately been a rumor among
the negroes working at your place, in regard
to the appearance of a ghost, has there not?”
“Yes.”
“Can you offer any light on the subject?”
“The negroes are superstitious and easily
frightened, when the rumor of a ghost gets
started it grows. The most of the stories ex-
isted only in their own imaginations.”
“You believe then that there was no foun-
dation whatever to any of the stories?”
“I should rather not go into that.”
“Mr. Gaylord, do you believe that the ghost
had any connection with the robbery?”
“No, I do not.”
“Do you think that the ghost had any con-
nection with the murder of your father?”
“No!” said Radnor.
“That is all, Mr. Gaylord.—James Clan-
cy.”
At the name Radnor suddenly raised his
head and half turned back as if to speak, but
thinking better of it, he resumed his chair and
watched the approach of the detective with an
angry frown. Clancy did not glance at Rad-
[188]


THE JURY'S VERDICT
nor, but gave his evidence in a quick incisive
way which forced the breathless attention of
every one in the room. He told without inter-
ruption the story of his arrival at Four-Pools
and his conclusions in regard to the ha’nt and
the theft; he omitted, however, all mention of
the letter.
“Am I to understand that you never made
your conclusions known to Colonel Gaylord?”
the coroner asked.
“No, I had been employed by him, but I
thought under the circumstances it was kinder
to leave him in ignorance.”
“That was a generous stand to take. I sup-
pose you lost something in the way of a fee?”
The detective looked slightly uncomforta-
ble over the question.
“Well, no, as it happened I did n’t. There
was a sort of cousin–Mr. Crosby”—he
nodded toward me—“visiting in the house
and he footed the bill. He seemed to think
the young man had n’t intended to steal, and
that it would be pleasanter all around if I left
it for them to settle between themselves.”
“I protest!” I cried. “I distinctly stated
[189]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
my conviction that Radnor Gaylord knew
nothing of the bonds, and I paid him to get
rid of him because I did not wish him troub-
ling Colonel Gaylord with any such made-up
story.” -
“Mr. Clancy is testifying,” observed the
coroner. “Now, Mr. Clancy, as I under-
stand it, you discovered as you supposed the
guilty man, and instead of going to your
employer with the story and receiving your
pay from him, you accepted it from the
person you had accused—or at least from his
friend?”
“I’ve explained the circumstances; it was a
mere matter of accommodation.”
“I suppose you know what such accommo-
dation is called?”
“If you mean it was blackmail—that 's
false! At least,” he added, quickly relapsing
into good nature, “it was a mighty generous
kind of blackmail. I could have got my pay
fast enough from the Colonel but I did n’t
want to stir up trouble. We all know that it
is n’t the innocent who pay blackmail,” he
added parenthetically.
[190]


THE JURY'S VERDICT
“Do you mean to insinuate that Mr. Crosby
is implicated?”
“Lord no! He ’s as innocent as a lamb.
Young Gaylord was too smart for him; he
hoodwinked him as well as the Colonel into
believing the bonds were stolen while he was
out of the house.”
A smile ran around the room and the detec-
tive was excused. I sprang to my feet.
“One moment!” I said. “I should like to
ask Mr. Clancy some questions.”
The young man was turned over to me,
plainly against his wishes.
“What proof have you, Mr. Clancy, that
the bonds were not stolen while Mr. Gaylord
was out of the house?”
“Well, my investigations led me to the be-
lief that he stole them, and that being the case,
it must have been done before he left the
house.”
“I see! And your investigations concerned
themselves largely with a letter which you
filched from Mr. Gaylord’s coat pocket in the
night, did they not?”
“Not entirely—the letter merely struck me
[191]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
as corroborative evidence, though I have since
learned—”
“Mr. Clancy,” I interrupted sternly,
“did you not tell me at the time, that that
letter was absolute proof of his guilt—yes
Or no?”
“I may have said so but—”
“Mr. Clancy, will you kindly repeat what
was in that letter.”
“It referred to some bonds; I don’t know
that I can recall the exact words.”
“Then I must request you to read it,” I re-
turned, picking it out from a bundle of pa-
pers on the table and handing it to him. “I
am sorry to take up so much time with a mat-
ter that has nothing to do with the murder,” I
added to the coroner, “but you yourself
brought up the subject and it is only fair to
hear the whole story.”
He nodded permission, and ordered Clancy
to read the letter. The detective did so
amidst an astonished hush. It struck every-
one as a proof of guilt, and no one could
understand why I had forced it to the
front.
“Now Mr. Clancy,” said I, “please tell
[192]


THE JURY'S VERDICT
the jury Mr. Gaylord's explanation of this
letter.”
Clancy with a somewhat sheepish air gave
the gist of what Radnor had said.
“Did you believe that story when you first
heard it?” I asked.
“No,” said he, “I did not, because—”
“Very well! But you later went to the of-
fice of Jacoby, Haight & Co., and looked over
the files of their correspondence with Radnor
Gaylord and verified his statement in every
particular, did you not?”
“Yes, I did, but still—”
“That is all I wish to ask, Mr. Clancy. I
think the reason is evident,” I added, turning
to the jury, “why I was willing to pay in or-
der to get rid of him. Nobody’s character,
nobody's correspondence, was safe while he
was in the house.”
The detective retired amidst general laugh-
ter and I could see that feeling had veered
again in Radnor's favor. The total effect of
the evidence respecting the ha'mt and the rob-
bery was good rather than bad, and I more
than fancied that I was indebted to the sheriff
for it.
18 [193]


THE JURY'S VERDICT
day of May, by cerebral hemorrhage, the re-
sult of a wound inflicted by some blunt
weapon in the hands of a person or persons
unknown. We recommend that Radnor
Fanshaw Gaylord be held for trial before the
Grand Jury.”
Rad appeared dazed at the verdict; though
in the face of the evidence and his own stub-
born refusal to explain it, I don’t see how he
could have expected any other outcome. As
for myself, it was better than I had feared.
[195]


FALSE CLUES
ever well he might know his ground, could,
with a whole county on his track, elude detec-
tion so effectually.
Supposing after all that he were not guilty,
but the sheriff's theory that he had been killed
and the body concealed, were true; then who,
besides Radnor, could have had any motive
for committing the crime? There was noth-
ing from the past that afforded even the sug-
gestion of a clue. The old man seemed to
have had no enemies but his sons. His sons?
The thought of Jeff suddenly sprang into my
mind. If anyone on earth owed the Colonel a
grudge it was his elder son. And Jeff had
more than his share of the Gaylord spirit
which could not lightly forgive an injury.
Could he have returned secretly to the neigh-
borhood, and, following his father into the
cave, have quarreled with him? Heaven
knows he had cause enough! He may, in his
anger, have struck the old man without know-
ing what he was doing, and overcome with
horror at the result, have left him and fled.
I was almost as reluctant to believe him
guilty of the crime as to believe it of Radnor,
[197]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
but the thought having once come, would not
be dismissed. I knew that he had sunk pretty
low in the nine years since his disappearance,
but I could never think of him otherwise than
as I myself remembered him. He had been
the hero of my boyhood and I revolted from
the thought of deliberately setting out to
prove him guilty of his father's murder.
I spurred my horse into a gallop, misera-
bly trying to escape from my suspicion; but
the more I put it from me as impossible, the
surer I became that at last I had stumbled on
a clue. Automatically, I began adjusting the
evidence to fit this new theory, and reluctant
as I was to see it, every circumstance from the
beginning fitted it perfectly.
Jeff had returned secretly to the neighbor-
hood, had taken up his abode in the old negro
cabins and made his presence known only to
Mose. Mose had stolen the chicken for him,
and the various other missing articles. They
had resurrected the ha’nt to frighten the ne-
groes away from the laurel walk, and the
night of the party Rad, in his masquerade,
had accidentally discovered his brother. Jeff
[198]


FALSE CLUES
demanded money, and Rad undertook to sup-
ply it in order to get him away without his
father's knowing. That was why he had bor-
rowed the hundred dollars from me, and had
written to his brokers to sell the bonds. It
was Jeff who was sitting beside Radnor the
night they drove across the lawn. But un-
known to Rad, Jeff had found his way back
and had robbed the safe, and Rad suspecting
it, had refused to make an investigation.
During the eleven days that intervened be-
tween the robbery and the murder Jeff had
still been hiding in the vicinity—possibly in
the neighborhood of Luray, certainly no
longer in the cabins, for he had no desire to
meet his brother.
But on the day of the picnic they had met
and quarreled. Rad had charged him with
the robbery and they had parted in a high
state of anger. This would explain Rad's ac-
tions in the hotel, his white face later when I
found him in the summer house. And Jeff,
still quivering from the boy's accusation, had
gone back into the cave and met his father
as the old man was coming from the little
[199]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
gallery of the broken column with Polly
Mathers's coat. What had happened there I
did not like to consider; they both had uncon-
trolled tempers, and in the past there had
been wrongs on both sides. Probably Jeff's
blow had been harder than he meant.
In the evening when Mattison and I
brought the news of the murder, Rad must
have known instantly who was the real cul-
prit. That was why he had kept silent; that
was why he so vehemently insisted on Mose's
innocence. I had found the light at last—
though the darkness had been almost better.
What must I do? I asked myself. Was it
my duty to search out Jefferson and convict
him of this crime? No one could tell what
provocation he may have had. Why not let
matters take their course? There was nothing
but circumstantial evidence against Radnor.
Surely no jury would convict him on that. I
could work up a sufficient case against Mose
to assure his acquittal. He would be released
with a blot on his name, he would be regarded
for the rest of his life with suspicion; but in
any event there seemed to be no outcome
[200]


FALSE CLUES
which would not involve the family in endless
trouble and disgrace. And besides, if he him-
self elected to be silent, had I any right to
speak? Then I pulled myself together. Yes,
it was not only right for me to speak; it was
my duty. Rad should not be allowed to sac-
rifice himself. The truth, at whatever cost,
must be brought out.
My first move must be to discover Jeff’s
whereabouts on the day of his father's murder.
It ought not to be difficult to trace a man who
had come more than once under the surveil-
lance of the police. Having made up my
mind as to the necessary course, I lost no time
in putting it into action. I barely waited to
snatch a hasty supper before riding back to
the village. From there I sent a fifty-word
telegram to the chief of police in Seattle ask-
ing for any information as to the whereabouts
of Jefferson Gaylord on the nineteenth of
May.
It was ten o’clock the next morning before
an answer came. So sure was I of what it was
going to contain, that I read the words twice
before comprehending them.
[201]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“Jefferson Gaylord spent May nineteenth in
lumber camp thirty miles from Seattle. Well-
known character. Mistaken identity impossi-
ble.
“HENRY WATERSON,
“Police Commissioner.”
I had become so obsessed with the horror of
my new theory; so sure that Jeff was the mur-
derer of his father that I could not readjust
my thoughts to the idea that he had been at
the time of the crime three thousand miles
away. The case, then, still stood exactly
where it had stood from the beginning. Six
days had passed since the murder and I was
not one inch nearer the truth. Six days! I
realized it with a dull feeling of hopelessness.
Every day now that was allowed to pass only
lessened the chance of our ever finding Mose
and solving the mystery.
I still stood with the telegram in my hand
staring at the words. I was vaguely aware
that a boy from “Miller's place” had ridden
up to the house on a bicycle, but not until Sol-
omon approached with a second yellow envel-
[202]


FALSE CLUES
ope in his hand was I jostled back into a state
of comprehension.
“Nurr telegram, Mars' Arnold.”
I snatched it from him and ripped it open,
hoping against hope that at last a clue had
turned up.
“NEw York, May 25.
“Post-Dispatch wants correspondent on spot.
If you have any facts to give out, save them
for me. Arrive Lambert Junction three-fifty.
“TERENCE K. PATTEN.”
Under the terrible strain of the past six
days I had completely forgotten Terry's exis-
tence and now the memory of his cool imperti-
nence came back to me with a rush. For the
first moment I felt too angry to think; I had
not credited even his presumption with any-
thing like this. His interference in the Pat-
terson-Pratt business was bad enough, but he
might have realized that this was a personal
matter. He was calmly proposing to turn
this horrible tragedy into a story for the Sun-
day papers—and that to a member of the
[203]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
murdered man's own family. Hot with in-
dignation, I tore the telegram into shreds and
stalked into the house. I paced up and down
the hall for fifteen minutes, planning what I
should say to him when he arrived; and then,
as I calmed down, I commenced to see the
thing in its true light.
The whole account of the crime to the mi-
nutest detail, had already appeared in every
newspaper in the country, together with the
most outrageous stories of Radnor's past ca-
reer. At least nothing could be worse than
what had already been said. And after all,
was not the truth—any truth—better than
these vague suspicions, this terrible suspense?
Terry could find the truth if any man on earth
could do it. He had, I knew, unraveled other
tangles as mysterious as this. He was used
to this sort of work, and bringing to the mat-
ter a fresh mind, would see light where it was
only darkness to me. I had been under such
a terrific strain for so long and had borne so
much responsibility, that the very thought of
having someone with whom I could share it
gave me new strength. My feeling toward
[204]


FALSE CLUES
him veered suddenly from indignation to
gratitude. His irrepressible confidence in
himself inspired me with a like confidence,
and I wondered what I had been thinking of
that I had not sent for him at once. To my
jaded mind his promised arrival appeared
better than a clue—it was almost equal to a
solution.
[205]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
I should have laughed had I been feeling
less anxious. His greeting was so entirely
characteristic in the way he shuffled through
the necessary condolences and jumped, with
such evident relish, to the gruesome details.
As I gathered up the reins and backed
away from the hitching-post, Terry broke out
with:
“Here, hold on a minute. Where are you
going?”
“Back to Four-Pools,” I said in some sur-
prise. “I thought you’d want to unpack your
things and get settled.”
“Have n’t much time to get settled,” he
laughed. “I have an engagement in New
York the day after to-morrow. How about
the cave? Is it too late to visit it now?”
“Well,” I said dubiously, “it 's ten miles
across the mountains and pretty heavy roads.
It would be dark before we got there.”
“As far as that goes, we could visit the cave
at night as well as in the daytime. But I
want to examine the neighborhood and inter-
view some of the people; so I suppose,” he
added with an impatient sigh, “we’ll have to
[208]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
Polly Mathers, and Jim Mattison, and I was
as brief as possible in my replies; I did not
care to make Polly the heroine of a Sunday
feature article. He was also persistent in re-
gard to Jefferson's past. I told him all I
knew, added the story of my own suspicions,
and ended by producing the telegram proving
his alibi.
“H'm!” said Terry folding it thoughtfully
and putting it in his pocket. “It had occurred
to me too that Jeff might be our man—this
puts an end to the theory that he personally
committed the murder. There are some very
peculiar points about this case,” he added.
“As a matter of fact, I don’t believe that Rad-
nor Gaylord is any more guilty of the crime
than I am—or I should n’t have come. But
it won’t do for me to jump at conclusions un-
til I get more data. I suppose you realize
what is the peculiarly significant point about
the murder?” -
“You mean Mose's disappearance?”
“Well, no. I did n’t have that in mind.
That 's significant enough to be sure, but
nothing but what you would naturally expect.
[210]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
sider the first. Could avarice have been
the motive for Colonel Gaylord's murder?
The body had not been robbed, you tell
me?”
“No, we found a gold watch and considera-
ble money in the pockets.”
“Then, you see, if the motive were avarice,
it could not have been immediate gain. That
throws out the possibility that the murderer
was some unknown thief who merely took ad-
vantage of a chance opportunity. If we are
to conceive of avarice as the motive, the crime
must have been committed by some person
who would benefit more remotely by the Colo-
nel's death. Did anyone owe him money that
you know of?” -
“There is no record of anything of the sort
and he was a careful business man. I do not
think he would have loaned money without
making some memorandum of it. He held
several mortgages but they, of course, revert
to his heirs.”
“I understood that Radnor was the only
heir.”
“He is, practically. There are a few minor
[212]


TERRY COMES
bequests to the servants and to some old
friends.”
“Did the servants know that anything was
to go to them?”
“No, I don’t think they did.”
“And this Cat-Eye Mose, did he receive a
share?”
“Yes, larger than any of the others.”
“It seems that Colonel Gaylord, at least,
had confidence in him. And how about the
other son? Did he know that he was to be
disinherited?”
“I think that the Colonel made it plain at
the time they parted.”
Terry shook his head and frowned.
“This disinheriting business is bad. I don’t
like it and I never shall. It stirs up more ill-
feeling than anything I know of. Jeff seems
to have proved an alibi, however, and we will
dismiss him for the present.”
“Rad has always sympathized with Jeff,” I
said.
“Then,” continued Terry, “if the servants
did not know the contents of the will, and we
have all of the data, Radnor is the only one
[213]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
who could knowingly have benefited by the
Colonel's death. Suppose we take a glance at
motives of fear. Do you know of anyone who
had reason to stand in fear of the Colo-
nel? He was n’t oppressing anybody? No
damaging evidence against any person in
his possession? Not levying black-mail was
he?”
“Not that I know of,” and I smiled
slightly.
“It’s not likely,” mused Terry, “but you
never can tell what is going to come out when
a respectable man is dead.—And now as to re-
venge. With a man of Colonel Gaylord's
character, there were likely to be a good many
people who owed him a bad turn. He seems
to have been a peppery old gentleman. It’s
quite on the cards that he had some enemies
among his neighbors?”
“No, so far as I can discover, he was very
popular in the neighborhood. The indigna-
tion over his death was something tremendous.
When it first got out that Rad was accused of
the crime, there was even talk of lynching
him.”
[214]


TERRY COMES
“So?–Servants all appeared to be fond of
him?”
“The old family servants were broken-
hearted at the news of his death. They had
been, for the most part, born and bred on the
place, and in spite of his occasional harshness
they loved the Colonel with the old-fashioned
devotion of the slave toward his master. He
was in his way exceedingly kind to them.
When old Uncle Eben died my uncle watched
all night by his bed.”
“It 's a queer situation,” Terry muttered,
and relapsed into silence till we reached the
jail.
It was an ivy-covered brick building set
back from the street and shaded by trees.
“Rather more home-like than the Tombs,”
Terry commented. “Should n’t mind taking
a rest in it myself.”
We found Radnor pacing up and down
the small room in which he was confined, like
a caged animal; the anxiety and seclusion
were beginning to tell on his nerves. He
faced about quickly as the door opened and at
sight of me his face lightened. He was grow-
[215]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
ing pathetically pleased at having anyone
with whom he could talk. -
“Rad,” I said with an air of cheerfulness
which was not entirely assumed, “I hope
we're nearing the end of our trouble at last.
This is Mr. Patten–Terry Patten of New
York, who has come to help me unravel the
mystery.”
It was an unfortunate beginning; I had
told him before of Terry's connection with the
Patterson-Pratt affair. He had half held out
his hand as I commenced to speak, but he
dropped it now with a slight frown.
“I don’t think I care to be interviewed,” he
remarked curtly. “I have nothing to say for
the benefit of the Post-Dispatch.”
“You’d better,” said Terry, imperturbably.
“The Post-Dispatch prints the truth, you
Know, and some of the other papers don’t.
The truth 's always the best in the end. I
merely want to find out what information you
can give me in regard to the ghost.”
“I will tell you nothing,” Radnor growled.
“I am not giving statements to the press.”
“Mr. Gaylord,” said Terry, with an as-
[216]


TERRY COMES
sumption of gentle patience, “if you will ex-
cuse my referring to what I know must be a
painful subject, would you mind telling me
if the suspicion has ever crossed your mind
that your brother Jefferson may have re-
turned secretly, have abstracted the bonds
from the safe, and, two weeks later, quite ac-
cidentally, have met Colonel Gaylord alone in
the cave—”
Radnor turned upon him in a sudden fury;
I thought for a moment he was going to strike
him and Isprang forward and caught his arm.
“The Gaylords may be a bad lot but they
are not liars and they are not cowards. They
do not run away; they stand by the consequen-
ces of their acts.”
Terry bowed gravely.
“Just one more question, and I am through.
What happened to you that day in the cave?”
“It’s none of your damned business!”
I glanced apprehensively at Terry, uncer-
tain as to how he would take this; but he did
not appear to resent it. He looked Radnor
over with an air of interested approval and his
smile slowly broadened.
[217]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
stopped to open the gate into our own home
lane, that he suddenly burst out with the ques-
tion:
“Where do the Mathers people live?”
“A couple of miles farther down the pike
—they have no connection whatever with
the business, and don’t know a thing about
it.”
“Ah—perhaps not. Would it be too late to
drive over to-night?”
“Yes,” said I, “it would.”
“Oh, very well,” said he, good-humoredly.
“There’ll be time enough in the morning.”
I let this pass without comment, but on one
thing I was resolved; and that was that Polly
Mathers should never fall into Terry's
clutches.
“There are a lot of questions I want to ask
about your ghost, but I’ll wait till I get my
bearings—and my dinner,” he added with a
laugh. “There was n’t any dining car on that
train, and I breakfasted early and omitted
lunch.”
“Here we are,” I said, as we came in sight
of the house. “The cook is expecting us.”
[220]


CHAPTER XVII
WE SEARCH THE ABANDONED CABINS
66 OW,” said Terry, as Solomon and the
\ suitcase disappeared upstairs, “let’s
you and I have a look at those
haunted cabins.”
“I thought you were hungry!”
“Starving—but I still have strength
enough to get that far. Solomon says supper
won’t be ready for half an hour, and we
haven’t half an hour to waste. I’m due in the
city the day after to-morrow, remember.”
“You won’t find anything,” I said. “I’ve
searched every one of those cabins myself and
the ha’nt did n’t leave a trace behind him.”
“I think I'll just glance about with my
own eyes,” laughed Terry. “Reporters some-
times see things, you know, where corporation
lawyers don't.”
“Just as you please,” I replied. “Four-
Pools is at your disposal.”
[222]


THE ABANDONED CABINS
I led the way across the lawn and into the
laurel growth. Terry followed with eyes
eagerly alert; the gruesome possibilities of the
place appealed to him. He pushed through
the briars that surrounded the first cabin and
came out on the slope behind, where he stood
gazing down delightedly at the dark waters
of the fourth pool.
“My word! This is great. We’ll run a
half-page picture and call it the “Haunted
Tarn.” Did n’t know such places really ex-
isted—thought writers made 'em up. Come
on,” he called, plunging back to the laurel
walk, “we must catch our ghost; I don’t want
this scenery to go to waste.”
We commenced at the first cabin and went
down the row thoroughly and systematically.
At Terry's insistence one of the stable men
brought a ladder and we climbed into every
loft, finding nothing but spiders and dust.
The last on the left, being more weatherproof
than the others, was used as a granary. A
space six feet square was left inside the door,
but for the rest the room was filled nearly to
the ceiling with sacks of Indian meal.
[223]


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“How about this—did you examine this
cabin?”
“Well, really, Terry; there is n’t much
room for a ghost here.”
“Ghosts don’t require much room; how
about the loft?”
“I did n’t go up—you can’t get at the tra
without moving all the meal.” -
“I see!” Terry was examining the three
walls of sacks before us. “Now here is a sack
rather dirtier than the rest and squashy. It
looks to me as if it had had a good deal of
rough handling.”
He pulled it to the floor as he spoke, and
another with it. A space some three feet
high was visible; by crawling one could
make his way along without hitting the
ceiling. -
“Come on!” said Terry, scrambling to the
top of the pile and pulling me after him,
“we’ve struck the trail of our ghostly friend .
unless I’m very much mistaken.—Look at
that!” He pointed to a muddy foot-mark
plainly outlined on one of the sacks. “Don’t
disturb it; we may want to compare it with the
[224]


THE ABANDONED CABINS
marks in the cave.—Hello! What 's this?
The print of a bare foot—that 's our friend,
Mose.”
He took out a pocket rule and made careful
measurements of both prints; the result he set
down in a note book. I was quite as excited
now as Terry. We crawled along on all fours
until we reached the open trap; there was no
trace here of either spider-webs or dust. We
scrambled into the loft without much diffi-
culty, and found a large room with sloping
beams overhead and two small windows, in-
nocent of glass, at either end. The room was
empty but clean; it had been thoroughly
swept, and recently. Terry poked about but
found nothing.
“H'm!” he grunted. “Mose cleaned well.
—Ah! Here we are!”
He paused before a horizontal beam along
the side wall and pointed to a little pile of
ashes and a cigar stub.
“He smokes cigars, and good strong ones—
at least he is n’t a lady. Did you ever see a
cigar like that before?”
“Yes,” I said, “that 's the kind the Colonel
15 [225]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
always smoked—a fresh box was stolen from
the dining-room cupboard a day or so after I
got here. Solomon said it was the ha’nt, but
we suspected it was Solomon.”
“Was the cupboard unlocked?”
“Oh, yes; any of the house servants could
have got at it.”
“Well,” said Terry, poking his head from
the windows for a view of the ground beneath,
“that 's all there seems to be here; we might
as well go down.”
We boosted up the two meal bags again,
and started back toward the house. Terry's
eyes studied his surroundings keenly, whether
for the sake of the story he was planning to
write or the mystery he was trying to solve, I
could only conjecture. His glance presently
fixed on the stables where old Uncle Jake was
visible sitting on an upturned pail in the door-
way.
“You go on,” he ordered, “and have 'em
put dinner or supper or whatever you call it
on the table, and I’ll be back in three minutes.
I want to see what that old fellow over there
has to say in regard to the ghost.”
[226]


THE ABANDONED CABINS
It was fifteen minutes later that Terry re-
appeared.
“Well,” I inquired as I led the way to the
dining-room, “did you get any news of the
ghost?”
“Did II The Society for Psychical Re-
search ought to investigate this neighborhood.
They’d find more spirits in half an hour than
they’ve found in their whole past history.”
Terry's attention during supper was chiefly
directed toward Nancy's fried chicken and
beat biscuits. When he did make any re-
marks he addressed them to Solomon rather
than to me. Solomon was loquacious enough
in general, but he had his own ideas of table
decorum, and it was evident that the friendly
advances of my guest considerably scandal-
ized him. When the coffee and cigars were
brought on, Terry appeared to be on the point
of inviting Solomon to sit down and have a
cigar with us; but he thought better of it, and
contented himself with talking to the old man
across my shoulder. He confined his ques-
tions to matters concerning the household and
the farm, and Solomon in vain endeavored to
[227]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
confine his replies to “yes, sah,” “no, sah,”
“jes' so, sah!” In five minutes he was well
started, and it would have required a flood-
gate to stop him.
In the midst of it Terry rose and dismissing
me with a brief, “I’ll join you in the library
later; I want to talk to Solomon a few min-
utes,” he bowed me out and shut the door.
I was amused rather than annoyed by this
summary dismissal. Terry had been in the
house not quite two hours, and I am sure that
a third person, looking on, would have picked
me out for the stranger. Terry's way of be-
ing at home in any surroundings was abso-
lutely inimitable. Had he ever had occasion
to visit Windsor Castle I am sure that he
would have set about immediately making
King Edward feel at home.
He appeared in the library in the course of
half an hour with the apology: “I hope you
did n’t mind being turned out. Servants are
sometimes embarrassed, you know, about tell-
ing the truth before any of the family.”
“You did n’t get much truth out of Solo-
mon,” I retorted.
[2281


THE ABANDONED CABINS
“I don’t know that I did,” Terry admitted
with a laugh. “There are the elements of a
good reporter in Solomon; he has an imagina-
tion which I respect. The Gaylords appear to
be an interesting family with hereditary tem-
pers. The ghost, I hear, beat a slave to death,
and to pay for it is doomed to pace the laurel
walk till the day of judgment.”
“That 's the story,” I nodded, “and the
beating is at least authentic.”
“H'm!” Terry frowned. “And Solomon
tells me tales of the Colonel himself whipping
the negroes—there can’t be any truth in that?”
“But there is,” I said. “He did n’t hesitate
to strike them when he was angry. I myself
saw him beat a nigger a few days ago,” and I
recounted the story of the chicken thief.
“So! A man of that sort is likely to have
enemies he does n’t suspect. How about Cat-
Eye Mose? Was Colonel Gaylord in the
habit of whipping him?”
“Often,” I nodded, “but the more the Colo-
nel abused Mose, the fonder Mose appeared
to grow of the Colonel.”
“It’s a puzzling situation,” said Terry pac-
[229]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
ing up and down the room with a thoughtful
frown. “Well!” he exclaimed with a sudden
access of energy, “I suppose we might as well
sit down and tackle it.”
He took off his coat and rolled up his shirt
sleeves; then shoving everything back from
one end of the big library table, he settled
himself in a chair and motioned me to one op-
posite.
“Tomorrow morning,” he said as he took
out from his pockets a roll of newspaper clip-
pings and a yellow copy pad, “we will drive
over and have a look at that cave; it ought to
tell its own story. But in the meantime—” he
looked up with a laugh—“suppose we use our
brains a little.”
I did not resent the inference. Terry was
his old impudent self, and I was so relieved at
having him there, assuming the responsibility,
that he might have wiped the floor with me
and welcome.
“Our object,” he commenced, “is not to
prove your cousin innocent of the murder, but
to find out who is guilty. The most logical
method would be to study the scene of the
[230]


THE ABANDONED CABINS
crime first, but as that does not appear feasi-
ble until morning, we will examine such data
as we have. On the face of it the only two
who appear to be implicated are Radnor and
this Cat-Eye Mose—who is a most pictur-
esque character,” Terry added, the reporter
for the moment getting ahead of the detective.
He paused and examined the end of his
fountain pen speculatively, and then ran
through the pile of clippings before him.
“Well, now, as for Radnor. Suppose we
look into his case a little.” He glanced over
one of the newspaper slips and tossed it across
to me. -
“There 's a clipping from the ‘Baltimore
Censor’—a tolerably conservative journal.
What have you to say in regard to it?”
I picked it up and glanced it over. It was
dated May twenty-third–four days after the
murder—and was the same in substance as
many other articles I had read in the past
week.
“No new evidence has come to light in re-
gard to the sensational murder of Colonel
[231]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
youngster,” I admitted, “though never to such
an extent as has been reported. Of late he
had stopped entirely. As for gambling, the
young men around here have got into a bad
way of playing for high stakes, but during the
past month or so Rad had pulled up in that
too. He sometimes backed one of their own
horses from the Gaylord stables, but so did the
Colonel; it ’s the regular thing in Virginia.
As for his ever having been disinherited, that
is a newspaper story, pure and simple. I
never heard anything of the sort, and the
neighborhood has told me pretty much all
there is to know within the last few days.”
“His father never turned him out of the
house then?”
“Never that I heard of. He did leave home
once because his father insulted him, but he
came back again.”
“That was forgiving,” commented Terry.
“In general, though, I understand that the re-
lations between the two were rather strained?”
“At times they were,” I admitted, “but
things had been going rather better for the
last few days.”
[234]


THE ABANDONED CABINS
“Until the night before the murder. They
quarreled then? And over a matter of
money?”
“Yes. Radnor makes no secret of it. He
wanted his father to settle something on him,
and upon his father's refusal some words
passed between them.”
“And a French clock,” suggested Terry.
I acknowledged the clock and Terry pon-
dered the question with one eye closed medita-
tively.
“Had Radnor ever asked for anything of
the sort before?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Why did he ask then?”
“Well, it's rather galling for a man of his
age to be dependent on his father for every
cent he gets. The Colonel always gave him
plenty, but he did not want to take it in that
way.”
“In just what way did he want to take it?”
Terry inquired. “Since he was so infernally
independent why did n’t he get to work and
earn something?”
“Earn something!” I returned sharply.
[235]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“Rad has managed the whole plantation for
the last three years. His father was getting
too old for business and if Rad had n’t taken
hold, things would have gone to the deuce
long ago. All he got as a regular salary was
fifty dollars a month; I think it was time he
was paid for his services.”
“Oh, very well,” Terry laughed. “I was
merely asking the question. And if you will
allow me to go a step further, why did Colonel
Gaylord object to settling something on the
boy?”
“He wanted to keep him under his thumb.
The Colonel liked to rule, and he wished
everyone around him to be dependent on his
Will.”
“I see!” said Terry. “Radnor had a real
grievance, then, after all—just one thing
more on this point. Why did he choose that
particular time to make his request? You say
he has had practical charge of affairs for the
past three years. Why did he not wish to be
independent last year? Or why did he not
postpone the desire until next year?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
[236]


THE ABANDONED CABINS
“You 'll have to ask Radnor that.” I had
my own suspicions, but I did not wish to drag
Polly Mathers's name into the discussion.
Terry watched me a moment without say-
ing anything, and then he too shrugged his
shoulders as he turned back to the newspaper
clippings. -
“I won’t go into the matter of Radnor's
connection with the ha’nt just now; I should
like to consider first his actions on the day of
the murder. I have here a report of the testi-
mony taken at the inquest, but it is not so full
as I could wish in some particulars. I should
like to have you give me the details. First,
you say that Radnor and his father did not
speak at the breakfast table? How was it
when you started?”
“They both appeared to be in pretty good
spirits, but I noticed that they avoided each
other.”
“Very well, tell me exactly what you did
after you arrived at Luray.”
“We left our horses at the hotel and walked
about a mile across the fields to the mouth of
the cave. We had lunch in the woods and at
[237]


THE ABANDONED CABINS
“I see,” said Terry glancing over the
printed report of the inquest, “that the coro-
ner asked at this point if Radnor were in the
habit of forgetting young ladies' coats.
That’s more pertinent than many of the ques-
tions he asked. How about it? Was he in the
habit of forgetting young ladies’ coats?”
“I really don’t know, Terry,” I said some-
what testily.
“It’s a pity you’re not more observing,” he
returned, “for it ’s important, on the whole.
But never mind. I’ll find that out for myself.
Did you notice when he left the rest of the
party?”
“No, there was such a crowd of us that I
did n’t miss him.”
“Very well, we'll have a look at his testi-
mony. He left the rest of you in this same
gallery of the broken column, went straight
out, strolled about the woods for half an hour
or so and then returned to the hotel. I fancy
‘strolled’ is not precisely the right word, but
at any rate it ’s the word he uses. Now that
half hour in the woods is an unfortunate cir-
cumstance. Had he gone directly to the ho-
[239]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
tel from the cave, we could have proved an
alibi without any difficulty. As it is, he had
plenty of time after the others came out to re-
member that he had forgotten the coat, return
for it, renew the quarrel with his father, and
after the fatal result make his way to the hotel
while the rest of the party were still loitering
in the woods.”
“Terry—” I began.
He waved his hand in a gesture of dissent.
“Oh, I’m not saying that 's what did hap-
pen. I’m just showing you that the district
attorney’s theory is a physical possibility.
Let 's glance at the landlord’s testimony a
moment. When Radnor returned for his
horse he appeared angry, excited and in a
hurry. Those are the landlord’s words, and
they are corroborated by the stable boy and
several loungers about the hotel.
“He was in a hurry—why? Because he
wished to get away before the others came
back. He had suddenly decided while he was
in the woods—probably when he heard them
laughing and talking as they came out of the
cave—that he did not wish to see anyone. He
[240]


THE ABANDONED CABINS
was angry—mark that. All of the witnesses
agree there, and I think that his actions carry
out their evidence. He drank two glasses of
brandy—by the way, I understood you to say
he had stopped drinking. He ordered the sta-
ble boy about sharply. He swore at him for
being slow. He lashed his horse quite unnec-
essarily as he galloped off. He rode home at
an outrageous rate. And he was not, Solo-
mon gives me to understand, in the habit of
maltreating horses.
“Now what do you make of all this? Here
is a young man with an unexpended lot of
temper on his hands—bent on being reckless;
bent on being just as bad as he can be.
It 's as clear as daylight. That boy never
committed any crime. A man who had
just murdered his father would not be
filled with anger, no matter what the prov-
ocation had been. He might be overcome
with horror, fear, remorse—a dozen different
emotions, but anger would not be among
them. And further, a man who had commit-
ted a crime and intended to deny it later,
would not proclaim his feelings in quite that
16 [241]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
blatant manner. Young Gaylord had not in-
jured anyone; he himself had been injured.
He was mad through and through, and he
did n’t care who knew it. He expended—you
will remember—the most of his belligerency
on his horse on the way home, and you found
him in the summer house undergoing the nat-
ural reaction. By evening he had got himself
well in hand again and was probably consider-
ably ashamed of his conduct. He does n’t
care to talk about the matter for several rea-
sons. Fortunately Solomon is not so scrupu-
lous.”
“I don’t know what you ’re driving at,
Terry,” said I.
“Don’t you?” he inquired. “Well, really,
it ’s about time that I came down!” He
paused while he scrawled one or two sentences
on his copy pad, then he glanced up with a
laugh. “I don’t know myself, but I think I
can make a pretty good guess. We’ll call on
Miss Polly Mathers in the morning and see if
she can’t help us out.”
“Terry,” I expostulated, “that girl knows
no more about the matter than I do. She has
[242.]


THE ABANDONED CABINS
already given her testimony, and I positively
will not have her name mentioned in connec-
tion with the affair.”
“I don’t see how you can help it,” was his
cool reply. “If she’s in, she’s in, and I’m not
to blame. However, we won’t quarrel about
it now; we’ll pay her a call in the morning.”
He ran his eyes over the clippings again, then
added, “There are just two more points con-
necting Radnor Gaylord with the murder that
need explaining: the foot-prints in the cave
and the match box. The foot-prints I will dis-
miss for the present because I have not seen
them myself and I can’t make any deductions
from hearsay evidence. But the question of
the match box may repay a little investigation.
I want you to tell me precisely what happened
in the woods before you went into the cave.
In the first place, how many older people were
there in the party?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Mathers, a lady who was
visiting them and Colonel Gaylord.”
“There were two servants, I understand,
besides this Mose, to help about the lunch.
What did they do?”
[243]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“Well, I don’t know exactly. I was n’t
paying much attention. I believe they car-
ried things over from the hotel, collected wood
for the fire, and then went to a farm house for
water.”
“But Mrs. Mathers, it seems, attended to .
lighting the fire?”
“Yes, she and the Colonel made the fire and
started the coffee.”
“Ah!” said Terry with a note of satisfac-
tion in his voice. “The matter begins to clear.
Was Colonel Gaylord in the habit of smok-
ing?”
“He smoked one cigar after every meal.”
“Never any more than that?”
“No, the doctor had limited him. The Col-
onel grumbled about it regularly, and always
smoked the biggest blackest cigar he could
find.”
“And where did he get his matches?”
“Solomon passed the brass match box from
the dining-room mantelpiece just as he passed
it to us to-night.”
“Colonel Gaylord was not in the habit of
carrying matches in his pockets then?”
[244]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
away, and she does n’t remember anything
further about the box. She thinks that she re-
turned it. Why? For no reason on earth ex-
cept that she usually returns things. As a
matter of fact, however, she did n’t do it this
time. She was called away and the Colonel
was left to light the fire alone. He recog-
nized the box as his son's and he dropped it
into his pocket. At another time perhaps he
would have walked over and handed it back;
but not then. The two were not speaking to
each other. Later, at the time of the struggle
in the cave, the box fell from the old man’s
pocket, and formed a most damaging piece of
circumstantial evidence against his son.
“On the whole,” Terry finished, “I do not
think we shall have a very difficult time in
clearing Radnor. I had arrived at my own
conclusions concerning him from reading the
papers; what extra data I needed, I managed
to glean from Solomon's lies. And as for
you,” he added, gazing across at me with an
imperturbable grin, “I think you were wise in
deciding to be a corporation lawyer.”
[246]


CHAPTER XVIII
TERRY ARRIVES AT A CONCLUSION
ND now,” said Terry, lighting a fresh
A cigar, and after a few preliminary
puffs, settling down to work again,
“we will consider the case of Cat-Eye Mose—
a beautiful name, by the way, and apparently
a beautiful character. It won’t be my fault
if we don’t make a beautiful story out of him.
You, yourself, I believe, hold the opinion that
he committed the murder?”
“I am sure of it,” I cried.
“In that case,” laughed Terry, “I should be
inclined to think him innocent.”
I shrugged my shoulders. There was noth-
ing to be gained by getting angry. If Terry
chose to regard the solving of a murder mys-
tery in the light of a joke, I had nothing to
say; though I did think he might have realized
that to me, at least, it was a serious matter.
66
[247.]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“And you base your suspicions, do you not,
upon the fact that he has queer eyes?”
“Not entirely.”
“Upon what then?”
“Upon the fact that he took part in the
struggle which ended in my uncle's death.”
“Well, certainly, that does seem rather con-
clusive—there is no mistake about the foot-
prints?”
“None whatever; the Mathers niggers both
wore shoes, and anyway they did n’t go into
the cave.”
“In that case I suppose it ’s fair to assume
that Mose took part in the struggle. Whether
he was the only man or whether there was still
a third, the cave itself ought to tell a pretty
clear story.”
Terry rose and paced up and down the
room once or twice, and then came back and
picked up one of the newspaper clippings.
“It says here that the boot marks of two
different men are visible.”
“That 's the sheriff's opinion,” I replied.
“Though I myself, can’t make out anything
but the marks of Mose and the Colonel. I ex-
[248]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
derstand it, he has the reputation of being a
harmless, peaceable fellow not very bright but
always good-natured. He never resented an
injury, was never known to quarrel with any-
one, took what was given him and said thank
you. He loved Colonel Gaylord and watched
over his interests as jealously as a dog. Well
now, is a man who has had this reputation all
his life, a man whom everybody trusts, very
likely to go off the hook as suddenly as that
and—with no conceivable motive—brutally
kill the master he has served so faithfully? A
man's future is in a large measure determined
by his past.”
“That may all be true enough,” I said, “but
it is very possible that people were deceived in
Mose. I have been suspicious of him from the
moment I laid eyes on him. You may think
it unfair to judge a man from his physical ap-
pearance, but I wish you could once see Cat-
Eye Mose yourself, and you would know
what I mean. The people around here are
used to him and don’t notice it so much, but his
eyes are yellow-positively yellow, and they
narrow in the light just like a cat's. One
[250]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
rival when the roast chicken was stolen—I’ve
told you that in detail.”
“And it was that same night that Aunt
What-Ever-Her-Name-Is saw the ghost in
the laurel walk?”
I nodded.
“Did she say what it looked like?”
“It was white.”
“And when you searched the cabins did you
go into the one where the grain is stored?”
“No, Mose dropped his torch at the en-
trance. And anyway Rad said there was no
use in searching it; it was already full to the
brim with sacks of corn meal.”
“Do you think that Radnor was trying to
divert you from the scene?”
“No, I am sure he had n’t a suspicion him-
self.”
“And what did the thing look like that you
saw Mose carrying to the cabins in the night?”
“It seemed to be a large black bundle. I
have thought since that it might have been
clothes or blankets or something of that sort.”
“So much for the first night,” said Terry.
“Now, how soon did the ghost appear again?”
“Various things were stolen after that, and
[252]


TERRY'S CONCLUSION
the servants attributed it to the ha’nt, but the
first direct knowledge I had was the night of
the party when Radnor acted so strangely. I
told you of his going back in the night.”
“He was carrying something too?”
“Yes, he had a black bundle—it might have
been clothes.”
“And after that he and Mose were in con-
stant consultation?”
“Yes—they both encouraged the belief in
the ha’nt among the negroes and did their best
to keep everyone away from the laurel walk.
I overheard Mose several times telling stories
to the other negroes about the terrible things
the ha’nt would do if it caught them.”
“And he himself did n’t show any fear over
the stories?”
“Not the slightest—appeared rather to en-
joy them.”
“And Radnor—how did he take the mat-
ter?”
“He was moody and irritable. I could see
that something was preying on his mind.”
“How did you explain the matter to your-
Self?”
“I was afraid he had fallen into the clutches
[253]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
of someone who was threatening him, possibly
levying blackmail.”
“But you did n’t make any attempt to dis-
cover the truth?”
“Well, it was Rad's own affair, and I
did n’t want the appearance of spying. I did
keep my eyes open as much as I could.”
“And the Colonel, how did he take all this
excitement about the ha’nt?”
“It bothered him considerably, but Rad
kept him from hearing it as much as he
could.”
“When did the ha’nt appear again after the
party?”
“Oh, by that time all sorts of rumors were
running about among the negroes. The
whole place was haunted and several of the
plantation hands had left. But the next thing
that we heard directly was in the early even-
ing before the robbery when Mose, appearing
terribly frightened, said he had seen the ha’nt
rising in a cloud of blue smoke out of the
spring-hole.”
“And how did the Colonel and Radnor take
this?”
[2541


TERRY'S CONCLUSION
“The Colonel was angry because he had
been bragging about Mose not being afraid,
and Rad was dazed. He did n’t know what to
think; he hustled Mose out of the way before
we could ask any questions.”
“And what did you think?”
“Well, I fancied at the time that he had
really seen something, but as I thought it over
in the light of later events I came to the con-
clusion that he was shamming, both then and
in the middle of the night when he roused the
house.”
“That is, you wished to think him sham-
ming, in order to prove his complicity in the
robbery and the murder; and so you twisted
the facts to suit your theory?”
“I don’t think you can say that,” I returned
somewhat hotly. “It’s merely a question of
interpreting the facts.”
“He did n’t gain much by raising all that
hulabaloo in the middle of the night.”
“Why yes, that was done in order to throw
suspicion on the ha’nt.”
“Oh, I see!” laughed Terry. “Well, now,
let's get to the end of this matter. Was
[255]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
any more seen of the ha'nt after that
night?”
“No, at least not directly. For five or six
days everyone was so taken up with the rob-
bery that the ha’nt excitement rather died
down. Then I believe there were some ru-
mors among the negroes but nothing much
reached the house.”
“And since the murder nothing whatever
has been seen of the ha’nt?”
I shook my head.
“Just give me a list of the things that were
stolen.”
“Well, the roast chicken, a box of cigars,
some shirts off the line, a suit of Rad's paja-
mas, a French novel, some brandy, quite a lot
of things to eat—fresh loaves of bread, pre-
serves, a boiled ham, sugar, coffee-oh, any
amount of stuff! The niggers simply helped
themselves and laid it to the ha’nt. One of
the carriages was left out one night, and in
the morning the cushions were gone and two
lap robes. At the same time a water pail was
taken and a pair of Jake's overalls. And then
to end up came the robbery of the safe.”
[256.]


TERRY's concLUSION
“The ha’nt had catholic tastes. Any of the
things turned up since?”
“Yes, a number of things, such as blankets
and clothes and dishes have gradually drifted
back.”
“The carriage cushions and lap robes—ever
find them?”
“Never a trace—and why anyone should
want ’em, I don’t know!”
“What color were the lap robes?”
“Plain black broadcloth.”
Terry got up and paced about a few mo-
ments and then came back and sat down.
“One thing is clear,” he said, “there are two
ha’nts.”
“Two ha'nts! What do you mean?”
“Just what I say. Suppose for conve-
nience we call them ha’nt number one, and
ha’nt number two. Number one occupied
apartments over the grain bin and haunted the
laurel walk. He was white—I don’t wonder
at that if he spent much time crawling over
those flour sacks. He smoked cigars and read
French novels; Mose waited on him and Rad-
nor knew about him—and did n’t get much
17 [257]


TERRY'S CONCLUSION
“Terry,” I said disgustedly, “that may
make a very picturesque newspaper story, but
it does n’t help much in unravelling the mys-
tery.”
“It helps a good deal. I would not like to
swear to the flames or sulphur or the passage
down to hell, but the fact that he was tall and
black and comes from the spring-hole is sig-
nificant. He was black—mark that—so were
the stolen lap robes.
“Now you see how the matter stands on the
night of the robbery. While ghost number
one was out driving with Radnor, ghost num-
ber two entered the house through the open
library window, found the safe ajar and
helped himself. Let’s consider what he took
—five thousand dollars in government bonds,
two deeds, an insurance policy, and a quart of
small change—a very suggestive lot of loot if
you think about it enough. After the robbery
he disappeared, nothing seen of him for five
or six days; then he turned up again for a day
or so, and finally disappeared forever. So
much for ha’nt number two. He's the party
we’re after. He pretty certainly robbed the
[259]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
safe and he possibly committed the murder—
as to that I won’t have any proof until I see
the cave.”
He stretched his arms with a laugh.
“Oh, this is n’t so bad! All we’ve got to do
now is to identify those two ghosts.”
“I’m glad if you think it’s so easy,” I said
somewhat sullenly. “But I will tell you one
thing, if you go to basing any deductions on
Solomon's stories you’ll find yourself bump-
ing against a stone wall.”
“We’ll have Rad over to dinner with us to-
morrow night,” Terry declared.
He rose and pulled out his watch.
“It 's a quarter before ten. I think it ’s
time you went to bed. You look about played
out. You have n’t been sleeping much of
late?”
“No, I can’t say that I have.”
“I ought to have come down at once,” said
Terry, “but I’m always so blamed afraid of
hurting people's feelings.”
I stared slightly. I had never considered
that one of Terry's weak points, but as he
seemed to be quite in earnest, I let the remark
pass.
“Do you think I could knock up one of the
[260]


TERRY'S CONCLUSION
stable-men to drive me to the village? I know
it 's pretty late but I’ve got to send a couple
of telegrams.”
“Telegrams?” I demanded. “Where to?”
Terry laughed.
“Well, I must send a word to the Post-Dis-
patch to the effect that the Luray mystery
grows more mysterious every hour. That the
police have been wasting their energies on the
wrong scent, but that the Post-Dispatch's
special correspondent has arrived on the scene,
and that we may accordingly look for a
speedy solution.”
“What is the second one?” I asked.
“To your friend, the police commissioner
Of Seattle.”
“You don’t think that Jeff–?”
“My dear fellow, I don’t think, unless I
have facts to think about.—Don’t look so ner-
vous; I'm not accusing him of anything. I
merely want more details than you got; I’m
a newspaper man, remember, and I like local
color even in telegrams. And now, go to
bed; and for heaven's sake, go to sleep. The
case is in the hands of the Post-Dispatch's
young man, and you need n’t worry any
more.”
[261]


TERRY FINDS THE BONDS
I sat up in bed and watched him impa-
tiently. It was evident that he had some news,
and equally evident that he was going to be as
leisurely as possible about imparting it.
“This is a pretty country,” he remarked as
he finished with his coat pockets and com-
menced on the waistcoat. “It would be al-
most worth living in if many little affairs like
this occurred to keep things going.”
“Really, Terry,” I said, “when you refer to
my uncle's murder as a little affair’ I think
you’re going too far!”
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” he returned
good-naturedly, “I guess I am incorrigible. I
did n’t know Colonel Gaylord personally, you
see, and I’m so used to murders that I’ve
come to think it ’s the only natural way of
dying. Anyhow,” he added, as he finally pro-
duced a yellow envelope, “I’ve got something
here that will interest you. It explains why
our young friend Radnor did n’t want to
talk.”
He tossed the envelope on the bed and I ea-
gerly tore out the telegram. It was from the
police commissioner in Seattle and it ran:
[263]


TERRY FINDS THE BONDS
had to be returned and somebody's silence
bought before the thing could be hushed up.
Anyway, Seattle was too hot to hold him and
he lit out and came East. He applied to Rad-
nor, but Radnor was in a tight place himself
and could n’t lay his hands on anything ex-
cept what his father had given him for a birth-
day present. That was tied up in another in-
vestment and if he converted it into cash it
would be at a sacrifice. So it ran along for a
week or so, while Rad was casting about for a
means of getting his brother out of the way
without any fresh scandal. But Mose's sud-
denly taking to seeing ha’nts precipitated
matters. Realizing that his father's patience
had reached its limit, and that he could n’t
keep you off the scent much longer, he deter-
mined to borrow the money for Jeff's journey
back to Seattle, and to close up his own in-
vestment.
“That same night he drove Jeff to the sta-
tion at Kennisburg. The Washington ex-
press does not stop at Lambert Junction, and
anyway Kennisburg is a bigger station and
travellers excite less comment. This is n’t de-
[265]


TERRY FINDS THE BONDS
“He might have confided in me,” I said.
“It would have been a good deal better if he
had. But in order to understand Rad's point
of view, you must take into account Jeff’s
character. He appears to have been a reck-
less, dashing, headstrong, but exceedingly
attractive fellow. His father put up with his
excesses for six years before the final quarrel.
Cat-Eye Mose, so old Jake tells me, moped
for months after his disappearance. Rad, as
a little fellow, worshipped his bad but charm-
ing brother.—There you have it. Jeff turns
up again with a hard luck story, and Mose
and Radnor both go back to their old allegi-
ance.
“Jeff is in a bad hole, a fugitive from jus-
tice with the penitentiary waiting for him.
He confesses the whole thing to Radnor—ex-
tenuating circumstances plausibly to the fore.
He has been dishonest, but unintentionally so.
He wishes to straighten up and lead a respec-
table life. If he had, say fifteen hundred dol-
lars, he could quash the indictment against
him. He is Radnor's brother and the Colo-
nel’s son, but Rad is to receive a fortune while
[267]


TERRY FINDS THE BONDS
He tossed a pile of mildewed papers on the
bed and met my astonishment with a trium-
phant chuckle.
It was true—all five of the missing bonds
were there, the May first coupons still uncut.
Also the deeds and insurance policy, exactly
as they had left the safe, except that they were
damp and mud-stained.
I stared for a moment too amazed to speak.
Finally, “Where did you find them?” I
gasped.
Terry regarded me with a tantalizing
laugh.
“Exactly where I thought I’d find them.
Oh, I’ve been out early this morning! I saw
the sun rise, and breakfasted in Kennisburg
at six forty-five. I'm ready for another
breakfast though. Hurry up and dress.
We’ve got a day's work before us. I’m off
to the stables to talk horses’ with Uncle Jake;
when you ’re ready for breakfast send Solo-
mon after me.”
“Terry,” I implored, “where on the face of
the earth did you find those bonds?”
[269]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“At the mouth of the passage to hell,”
said Terry gravely, “but I’m not quite sure
myself who put them there.”
“Mose?” I queried eagerly.
“It might have been—and it might not.”
He waved his hand airily and withdrew.
[270]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
eyes on the dash-board. As we came to the
four corners at the valley-pike I reined in.
“Would you rather go the short way over
the mountains by a very rough road, or the
long way through Kennisburg?” I inquired.
“What 's that?” he asked. “Oh, the short
way by all means—but first I want to call at
the Mathers’s.”
“It would simply be a waste of time.”
“It won’t take long—and since Radnor
won’t talk I’ve got to get at the facts from
the other end. Besides, I want to see Polly
myself.”
“Miss Mathers knows nothing about the
matter,” said I as stiffly as possible.
“Does n’t shel” said Terry. “She knows a
good many things, and it’s about time she told
them.—At any rate, you must admit that
she ’s the owner of the unfortunate coat that
caused the trouble; I want to ask her some
questions about that. Why can’t girls learn
to carry their own coats? It would save a lot
of trouble.”
It ended by my driving, with a very bad
grace, to Mathers Hall.
[272]


POLLY MAKES A CONFESSION
“You wait here until I come out,” said
Terry, coolly, as I drew up by the stepping
stone and commenced fumbling for a hitching
strap.
“Not much!” said I. “If you interview
Polly Mathers I shall be present at the inter-
view.”
“Oh, very well!” he returned resignedly.
“If you ’d let me go about it my own way,
though, I’d get twice as much out of her.”
The family were at breakfast, the servant
informed me. I left Terry in the parlor while
I went on to the dining-room to explain the
object of our visit.
“There is a friend of mine here from New
York to help us about the trial”—I thought it
best to suppress his real profession—“and he
wants to interview Miss Polly in regard to the
coat. I am very sorry—”
“Certainly,” said Mrs. Mathers, “Polly
is only too glad to help in any way possi-
ble.”
And to my chagrin Polly excused herself
and withdrew to the parlor, while her father
kept me listening to a new and not very val-
18 [273]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
uable theory of his in regard to the disap-
pearance of Mose. It was fifteen minutes be-
fore I made my escape and knocked on the
parlor door. I turned the knob and went in
without waiting for a summons.
The Mathers's parlor is a long cool dim
room with old-fashioned mahogany furniture
and jars of roses scattered about. It was so
dark after the bright sunshine of the rest of
the house, that for a moment I did n’t discover
the occupants until the sound of Polly's sob-
bing proclaimed their whereabouts. I was
somewhat taken aback to find her sitting in a
corner of the big horsehair sofa, her head bur-
ied in the cushions, while Terry, nonchalantly
leaning back in his chair, regarded her with
much the expression that he might have worn
at a “first night” at the theatre. It might also
be noted that Polly wore a white dress with a
big bunch of roses in her belt, that her hair
was becomingly rumpled by the cushion, and
that she was not crying hard enough to make
her eyes red.
“Hello, old man!” said Terry and I fancied
that his tone was not entirely cordial. “Just
[274]


POLLY MAKES A CONFESSION
sit down and listen to this. We’ve been hav-
ing some interesting disclosures.”
Polly raised her head and cast him a re-
proachful glance, while with a limp wave of
the hand she indicated a chair.
I settled myself and inquired reassuringly,
“Well, Polly, what’s the trouble?”
“You tell him,” said Polly to Terry, as she
settled herself to cry again. .
“I’ll tell you,” said Terry, glancing warily
at me, “but it 's a secret, remember. You
must n’t let any of those horrid newspaper
men get hold of it. . Miss Mathers would hate
awfully to have anything like this get into the
papers.”
“Oh, go on, Terry,” said I, crossly, “if
you’ve got anything to tell, for heaven's sake
tell it!”
“Well, as far as we’d got when you inter-
rupted, was that that afternoon in the cave
she and Radnor had somehow got separated
from the rest of the party and gone on
ahead. They sat down to wait for the
others on the fallen column, and while
they were waiting Radnor asked her to
9
[275]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
marry him, for the seventh—or was it the
eighth time?”
“The seventh, I think,” said Polly.
“It’s happened so often that, she's sort of
lost track; but anyway, she replied by asking
him if he knew the truth about the ghost. He
said, yes, he did, but he could n’t tell her; it
was somebody else's secret. On his word of
honor though there was nothing that he was
to blame for. She said she would n’t marry a
man who had secrets. He said that unless she
took him now, she would never have the
chance again; it was the last time he was going
to ask her—is that straight, Miss Mathers?”
“Y-yes,” sobbed Polly from the depths of
her cushion.
Terry proceeded with a fast broadening
smile; it was evident that he enjoyed the reci-
tal.
“And then being naturally angry that any
man should presume to propose for the last
time, she proceeded to be perfectly horrid’ to
him.–Go on, Miss Mathers. That’s as far as
you’d got.”
“I—I told him—you won’t tell anyone?”
“No.”
[276]


POLLY MAKES A CONFESSION
“I told him I’d decided to marry Jim Mat-
tison.”
“Ah—” said Terry. “Now we’re getting
at it! If you don’t mind my asking, Miss
Mathers, was that just a bluff on your part,
or had Mr. Mattison really asked you?”
Polly sat up and eyed him with a sparkle of
resentment.
“Certainly, he’d asked me—a dozen times.”
“I beg pardon!” murmured Terry. “So
now you’re engaged to Mr. Mattison?”
“Oh, no!” cried Polly. “Jim doesn’t know
I said it—I did n’t mean it; I just wanted to
make Radnor mad.”
“I see! So it was a bluff after all? Were
you successful in making him mad?”
She nodded dismally.
“What did he say?”
“Oh, he was awfully angry! He said that
if he never amounted to anything it would be
my fault.”
“And then what?”
“We heard the others coming and he
started off. I called after him and asked him
where he was going, and he said he was going
to the d–devil.”
[2771


POLLY MAKES A CONFESSION
You see his emotions when he came out of that
cave were mixed. There was probably a good
deal of disappointment and grief down below.
his anger, but that for the moment was decid-
edly in the lead. He had been badly treated,
and he knew it. What’s more, he did n’t care
who else knew it. He was in a thoroughly vi-
cious mood and ready to wreak his anger on
the first thing that came to hand. That hap-
pened to be his horse. By the time he got
home he had expended the most of his temper
and his disappointment had come to the top.
You found him wrestling with that. By even-
ing he had brought his philosophy into play,
and had probably decided to brace up and try
again. And that,” he finished, “is the whole
story of our young gentleman’s erratic be-
havior.”
“I wonder I did n’t think of it myself,” I
said.
Terry smiled and said nothing.
“Radnor is naturally not loquacious about
the matter,” he resumed presently. “For one
thing, because he does not wish to drag Polly's
name into it, for another, I suppose he feels
[281]


POLLY MAKES A CONFESSION
clear him, with never a hint that she could ex-
plain the most suspicious circumstance against
him.”
“You ’ve got me,” Terry laughed. “I
give up when it comes to finding out why
women do things. If you had asked her, you
know, she would have told you; but you never
said a word about it.”
“How could I ask her when I did n’t know
anything about it?”
“I managed to ask her,” said Terry, “and
what 's more,” he added gloomily, “I prom-
ised it should n’t go any further—that is, than
is necessary to get Rad off. Now don’t you
call that pretty tough luck, after coming 'way
down here just to find out the truth, not to be
allowed to print it when I’ve got it? How in
the deuce am I to account for Rad’s behavior
without mentioning her?”
“You need n’t have promised,” I suggested.
“Oh, well,” Terry grinned, “I’m human!”
I let this pass and he added hastily, “We’ve
disposed of Jeff; we’ve disposed of Radnor,
but the real murderer is still to be found.”
“And that,” I declared, “is Cat-Eye Mose.”
[283]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“It’s possible,” agreed Terry with a shrug.
“But I have just the tiniest little entering
wedge of a suspicion that the real murderer is
not Cat-Eye Mose.”
[284]


MR. PATTEN OF NEW YORK
tive. They look upon him as omnipotent and
omniscient, and every man squirms before him
in the fear that his own little sins will be
brought to light.” Terry laughed in prospect.
“Introduce me as a detective by all means!”
“Anything you like,” I laughed in return.
“I’ll introduce you as the Pope if you think
it will do any good.” There was no keeping
Terry suppressed, and his exuberance was
contagious. I was beginning to feel light-
hearted myself.
The hotel at Luray was a long rambling
structure which had been casually added to
from time to time. It was painted a sickly,
mustard yellow (a color which, the landlord
assured me, would last forever) but it ’s bril-
liancy was somewhat toned by a thick coating
of dust. A veranda extended across the front
of the building flush with the wooden side-
walk. The veranda was furnished with a rail-
ing, and the railing was furnished at all times
of the day—except for a brief nooning from
twelve to half-past—with a line of boot-soles
in assorted sizes.
We drew up with a flourish before the
[287]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
wooden steps in front of the hotel, and I
threw the lines to the stable boy who came for-
ward to receive us with an amusing air of im-
portance. His connection with the Luray
tragedy conferred a halo of distinction, and he
realized the fact. It was not every one in the
neighborhood who had had the honor of being
cursed by a murderer. As we alighted Terry
stopped to ask him a few questions. The boy
had told his story to so many credulous audi-
ences that by this time it was well-nigh unrec-
ognizable. As he repeated it now for Terry's
benefit, the evidence against Radnor appeared
conclusive. A full confession of guilt could
scarcely have been more damning.
Terry threw back his head and laughed.
“Take care, young man,” he warned,
“you 'll be eating your words one of these
days, and some of them will be pretty hard to
swallow.”
As we mounted the steps I nodded to sev-
eral of the men whom I remembered having
seen before; and they returned an interested,
“How-dy-do? Pleasant day,” as they cast a
reconnoitering glance at my companion.
[288]


MR. PATTEN OF NEW YORK
“Gentlemen,” I said with a wave of my
hand toward Terry, “let me introduce Mr.
Terence Kirkwood Patten, the well-known
detective of New York, who has come down to
look into this matter for us.”
The chairs which were tipped back against
the wall came down with a thud, and an
awed and somewhat uneasy shuffling of
feet ensued.
“I wish to go through the cave,” Terry re-
marked in the crisp, incisive tones a detective
might be supposed to employ, “and I should
like to have the same guide who conducted
Mr. Crosby the time the body was discov-
ered.”
“That 's Pete Moser, he ’s out in the back
lot plowin’,” a half dozen voices responded.
“Ah, thank you; will some one kindly call
him? We will wait here.”
Terry proceeded with his usual ease to
make himself at home. He tipped back his
hat, inclined his chair at the same dubious an-
gle as the others, and ranged his feet along the
railing. He produced cigars from various
pockets, and the atmosphere became less
19 [289]


MR. PATTEN OF NEW YORK
to make him an active enemy that I tolerated
his presence at all.
I presented Terry; though Mattison took
his calling more calmly than the others, still I
caught several sidewise glances in his direc-
tion, and I think he was impressed.
“Happy to know you, Mr. Patten,” he re-
marked as he helped himself to a chair and set-
tled it at the general angle. “This is a pretty
mysterious case in some respects. I rode over
myself this morning to look into a few points
and I shall be glad to have some help —though
I'm afraid we’ll not find anything that 'll
please you.”
“Anything pleases me, so long as it ’s the
truth,” Terry threw off, as he studied the
sheriff, with a gleam of amusement in his
eyes; he was thinking, I knew, of Polly Ma-
thers. “I hope,” he added, assuming a se-
verely professional tone, “that you have n’t
let a lot of people crowd into the cave and
tramp up all the marks.”
The landlord, who was standing in the
doorway, chuckled at this.
“There ain’t many people that you could
[291]


MR. PATTEN OF NEW YORK
“If that happened in the North we should
look around the neighborhood for a sick small
boy.”
“It was n’t no boy this time—leastways not
a very small one,” the man affirmed, “for that
same day a pair o' my boots that I’d left in
the wood house just naturally walked off by
theirselves, an I found ’em the next day at
the bottom o' the pasture. It would take a
pretty sizeable fellow that my boots was too
small for,” he finished with a grin.
“They are a trifle conspicuous,” one of the
others agreed with his eyes on the feet in ques-
tion.
I caught an interested look in Terry's
glance as he mentally took their measure, and
I wondered what he was up to; but as our mes-
senger and Pete Moser appeared around the
corner at the moment, I had no time for spec-
ulation. Terry let his chair slip with a bang
and rose to his feet.
“Ah, Mr. Moser! I’m glad to see you,”
he exclaimed with an air of relief. “It’s get-
ting late,” he added, looking at his watch,
“and I must get this business settled as soon
[293]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
as possible; I have another little affair waiting
for me in New York. Bring plenty of cal-
cium light, please. We want to see what
we’re doing.”
As the four of us were preparing to start,
Terry paused on the top step and nodded
pleasantly to the group on the veranda.
“Thank you for your information, gentle-
men. I have no doubt but that it will be of
the greatest importance,” and he turned away
with a laugh at their puzzled faces.
The sheriff and I were equally puzzled. I
should have suspected that Terry, in the rôle
of detective, was playing a joke on them, had
he not very evidently got something on his
mind. He was of a sudden in a frenzy of im-
patience to reach the cave, and he kept well
ahead of us most of the way.
“I suppose,” said Mattison as he climbed a
fence with tantalizing deliberation—we were
going by way of the fields as that was shorter
—“I suppose that you are trying to prove
that Radnor Gaylord had nothing to do with
this murder?”
“That will be easy enough,” Terry threw
[294]


MR. PATTEN OF NEW YORK
back over his shoulder. “I dropped him long
ago. The one I'm after now is the real mur-
derer.”
Mattison scowled slightly.
“If you can explain what it was that hap-
pened in that cave that upset him so mightily,
I’d come a little nearer to believing you.”
Terry laughed and fell back beside him.
“It 's a thing which I imagine may have
happened to one or two other young men of
this neighborhood—not inconceivably your-
self included.”
Mattison, seeing no meaning in this sally,
preserved a sulky silence and Terry added:
“The thing for us to do now is to bend all
our energies toward finding Cat-Eye Mose.
I doubt if we can completely explain the mys-
tery until he is discovered.”
“And that,” said the sheriff, “will be never!
You may mark my words; whoever killed the
Colonel, killed Mose, too.”
“It’s possible,” said Terry with an air of
sadness, “but I hope not. I came all the way
down from New York on purpose to see
Mose, and I should hate to miss him.”
[295]


THE DISCOVERY
longer. He had forgotten that he ever was a
reporter—he had forgotten almost that he
was a human being.
From where we stood we pointed out the
place above the pool where the struggle had
occurred, the spot under the cliff where the
body had lain, and the jagged piece of rock
on which we had found the coat. Moser even
laid down upon the ground and spread out
his arms in the position in which we had dis-
covered the Colonel's body.
“Very well, I see,” said Terry. “Now the
rest of you stay back there on the boards; I
don’t want you to make a mark.”
He stepped forward carefully to the edge
of the water and bent over to examine the
soft, yellow clay which formed the border of
the pool on the lower side. Instantly he
straightened up with a sharp exclamation of
surprise.
“Did any negroes come in with you to re-
cover the body?” he asked.
“No,” returned the sheriff, “as old man
Tompkins said, you could n’t hire a nigger
to stick his head in here after the Colonel was
[297]


THE DISCOVERY
make in pacing a cage. I shivered slightly.
It was a terribly uncanny sight.
“Well?” said Terry sharply. The place
was beginning to get on his nerves too.
“Terry,” I said uneasily, “I never saw
them before. I thought I examined every-
thing thoroughly, but I was so excited I sup-
pose—” -
“What did you make of them?” he inter-
rupted, whirling about on Mattison who was
looking over our shoulders.
“I—I did n’t see them,” Mattison stam-
mered.
“For heaven's sake, men,” said Terry im-
patiently. “Do you mean they were n’t there
or you did n’t notice them?”
The sheriff and I looked at each other
blankly, and neither answered.
Terry stood with his hands in his pockets
frowning down at the marks, while the rest of
us waited silently, scarcely daring to think.
Finally he turned away without saying a
word, and, motioning us to keep back, com-
menced examining the path which led up the
incline. He mounted the three stone steps,
[299]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
and with his eyes on the ground, slowly ad-
vanced to the spot where the struggle had
taken place.
“How tall a man did you say Mose was?”
he called down to us.
“Little short fellow—not more than five
feet high,” returned the sheriff.
Terry took his ruler from his pocket and
bent over to study the marks at the scene of
the struggle. He straightened up with an air
of satisfaction.
“Now I want you men to look carefully at
those marks on the lower borders of the pool,
and then come up here and look at these.
Come along up in single file, please, and keep
to the middle of the path.”
He spoke in the tone of one giving a dem-
onstration before a kindergarten class. We
obeyed him silently and ranged in a row along
the boards.
“Come here,” he said. “Bend over where
you can see. Now look at those marks. Do
you see anything different in them from the
marks below?”
The sheriff and I gazed intently at the
[300]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
marks below were simply not there. Some-
one has been in since.”
“So I conclude. Now, Mattison,” he
added to the sheriff, “come here and show me
the marks of Radnor Gaylord's riding boots.”
Mattison returned and pointed out the
mark which he had produced at the inquest,
but his assurance, I noticed, was somewhat
shaken.
“That,” said Terry half contemptuously,
“is the mark of Colonel Gaylord. You must
remember that he was struggling with his as-
sailant. He did not plant his foot squarely
every time. Sometimes we have only the heel
mark: sometimes only the toe. In this case
we have more than the mark of the whole foot.
How do I account for it? Simply enough.
The Colonel's foot slipped sideways. The
mark is, you see, exactly the same in length
as the others, but disproportionately broad.
At the heel and toe it is smudged, and on the
inside where the weight was thrown, it is
heavier than on the outside. The thing is
easy enough to understand. You ought to
have been able to deduce it for yourselves.
[802]


THE DISCOVERY
And besides, how did you account for the fact
that there was only one mark? A man en-
gaged in a struggle must have left more than
that behind him. No; it is quite clear. At
this point on the edge of the bank there was
no third person. We are dealing with only
two men—Colonel Gaylord and his murderer;
and the murderer was bare-footed.”
“Mose?” I asked.
“No,” said Terry, patiently, “not Mose.”
“Then Who?”
“That—remains to be seen. I will follow
him up and find out where he comes from.”
Terry held his candle close to the ground
and followed along the path. At the en-
trance to the little gallery of the broken col-
umn it diverged, one part leading into the
gallery, and the other into a sort of blind alley
at one side. Terry paused at the opening.
“Give me some more calcium light,” he
called to the guide. “I want to look into this
passage. And just hand me some of those
boards,” he added. “It’s very necessary that
we keep the marks clear.”
The rest of us stood in a huddled group on
[303]


THE DISCOVERY
over the matter, the Colonel came back alone,
and it flashed into the fellow's mind that this
was his chance. He may have been afraid at
first or he may have hesitated through kind-
lier motives. At any rate he did not attack
the Colonel immediately, but retreated into
the passage, and the old man passed him with-
out seeing him and went on into the galle
and got the coat. -
“In the meantime, the negro had made up
his mind, and as the Colonel came back, he
crept along behind him. It is hard to trace
the marks, for another bare-footed man has
walked over them since. But see, in this place
at the edge of the path, there’s the mark of a
palm, showing where the assassin's hand
rested when he crouched on the ground. He
sprang upon the old man from the rear and
they struggled together over the water—
touch off a light, please—you see how the clay
is all trampled over on both sides of the path,
'way out to the brink of the pool. There is no
second set of marks here to obliterate it; we
are dealing with just two people—Colonel
Gaylord and his assassin.”
Terry bent low and picked up from a crev-
[307]


THE DISCOVERY
fell on his hands and knees in this place and
slid back. That accounts for those long drag-
ging marks, which none of you appear to have
noticed. Mose did his best, but he could not
reach his master in time. The murderer see-
ing—or rather hearing him, for it must have
been dark—was seized with sudden fear, and
with a convulsive effort he threw the old man
against the rock wall here, where his head
struck on this broken stalactite. If you look
carefully you can see the marks of blood. He
then hurled him into the pool and fled.”
“It sounds plausible enough,” said the
sheriff slowly, “but there are one or two
points which I’m afraid will not bear examin-
ing. Suppose your man did thrown the Colo-
nel into the water and run for it, then what, I
should like to know, has become of Cat-Eye
Mose?”
- “That,” said Terry, knitting his brows, “is
still a mystery and a fairly deep one. There
is something uncommonly strange about those
tracks on the lower borders of the pool and I
confess they puzzle me. Only one explana-
tion occurs to me now and that is not pleas-
[309]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
ant to think of. We have some clues to work
with however, and we ought not to be long in
getting at the truth. If I had had your
chance of examining the cave on the day of
the crime,” he added, “I think I should
know.”
“You might, and again you might not,”
said Mattison. “It 's easy enough for you
fellows to come down here and make up a
story about a lot of people you’ve never seen,
but I’ll tell you one thing, and that is that
you’re not so likely to hit the truth as the men
who 've been brought up in the country. In
the first place it comes natural to niggers to
be whipped and they don’t mind it. In the
second place if your tramp did want to take
it out on the Colonel why should he be scared
by Mose, who was a little bit of a sawed-off
cuss that I could lick with one hand tied be-
hind me? You may be able to impress a
New York jury with a ham bone and a cheese
rind, Mr. Patten, but I can tell you, sir, that a
Virginia jury wants witnesses.”
“We shall do our best to provide some,”
said Terry, coolly.
[310]


THE DISCOVERY
“And perhaps you can tell,” added Matti-
son with the triumphant air of clinching the
matter, “what has become of the five thousand
dollars in bonds? You can never make me be-
lieve that any nigger—”
“Oh, they ’re back in the safe at Four-
Pools. I found ’em this morning in the
spring-hole where the man had thrown them
away.—Now, gentlemen,” he added with a
touch of impatience, “I want to try a little ex-
periment before we leave the cave. Will you
all please put out your lights? I want to see
how dark it really is in here.”
We blew out our candles and stood a mo-
ment in silence. At first all was black around
us, but as our eyes became accustomed to the
darkness, we saw that a faint light filtered
in from somewhere in the roof above our
heads. We could make out the pale blur of
the white rock wall on one side and the merest
glimmer of the pool below.
“No,” Terry began, “he could have seen
nothing; he must have—” He broke off sud-
denly and gripping my arm whispered out,
“What ’s that?” f
[3111


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
“Where?” I asked.
“Up there; straight ahead.”
I looked up and saw two round eyes which
glittered like a wild beast's, staring at us out
of the darkness. A cold chill ran up my back
and I instinctively huddled closer to the
others. For a moment no one spoke and I
heard the click of Terry's revolver as he
cocked it. Then it suddenly came over me
what it was, and I cried out:
“It’s Cat-Eye Mose!”
“Good Lord, he can see in the dark! Strike
a light, some one,” Terry said huskily.
The sheriff struck a match. We lit our can-
dles with trembling hands and pressed for-
ward (in a body) to the spot where the eyes
had appeared.
Crouched in a corner of a little recess half
way up the irregular wall, we found Mose,
shivering with fear and looking down at us
with dumb, animal eyes. We had to drag
him out by main force. The poor fellow was
nearly famished and so weak he could scarcely
stand. What little sense he had ever
possessed seemed to have left him, and
[312]


MOSE TELLS HIS STORY
dropped. Mose, with a cry, ran forward to
his master's assistance, but when the negro
saw him climbing up the bank he suddenly
screamed, and hurling the old man from him,
turned and fled.
“The fellow must have taken him for the
devil when he saw those eyes, and I don’t won-
der!” Terry interpolated at this point.
After the Colonel’s murder, it seems that
Mose, crazed by grief and fear, had watched
us carry the body away, and then had stayed
by the spot where his master had died. This
accounted for the marks on the border of the
pool. Knowing all of the intricate passages
and hiding places as he did, it had been an
easy matter for him to evade the party that
had searched for his body. He ate the food
the murderer had left, but this being ex-
hausted, he would, I have n’t a doubt, have
died there himself with the unreasoning faith-
fulness of a dog.
When he finished his rambling and in some
places scarcely intelligible account, we sat for
a moment with our eyes upon his face, fascin-
ated by his look. Every bit of repugnance I
[315]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
had ever felt toward him had vanished, and
there was left in its place only a sense of pity.
Mose's cheeks were hollow, his features
sharper than ever, and his face was almost
pale. From underneath his straight, black,
matted hair his eyes glittered feverishly, and
their expression of uncomprehending anguish
was pitiful to see. He seemed like a dumb
animal that has come into contact with death
for the first time and asks the reason.
Terry took his eyes from Mose's face and
looked down at the table with a set jaw. I do
not think that he was deriving as much pleas-
ure from the sight as he had expected. We
all of us experienced a feeling of relief when
the doctor appeared at the door. We turned
Mose over to him with instructions to do what
he could for the poor fellow and to take him
back to Four-Pools.
As the door shut behind them, the sheriff
said (with a sigh, I thought), “This business
proves one thing: it ’s never safe to lynch a
man until you are sure of the facts.”
“It proves another thing,” said Terry,
dryly, “which is a thing you people don’t
[316]


MOSE TELLS HIS STORY
work and plot and scheme to overthrow him;
and in the end succeed. The big man never
knew what struck him. He thought it was
luck, chance, a turn of the wheel. He never
dreamed that it was his own character hitting
back. I’ve seen it so often, I’m a fatalist.
I don’t believe in chance. It was Colonel
Gaylord who killed himself, and he com-
menced it fifty years ago.”
“It’s God’s own truth, Terry!” I said sol-
emnly.
The sheriff had listened to Terry's words
with an anxiously reminiscent air. I won-
dered if he were reviewing his own political
past, to see if by chance he also had un-
wittingly crushed a worm. He raised his
eyes to Terry's face with a gleam of ad-
miration.
“You ’ve been pretty clever, Mr. Patten,
in finding out the truth about this crime,” he
acknowledged generously. “But you could n’t
have expected me to find out,” he added, “for
I did n’t know any of the circumstances. I
had never even heard that such a man existed
as that chicken thief—and as to there being
[319]


MOSE TELLS HIS STORY
mined to get rid of Jeff immediately. While
he drove him to the station he left Mose be-
hind to straighten up the loft; and Mose,
coming into the house to put some things
away, met ghost number two just after he
had robbed the safe. If Mose's eyes looked.
as they did to-day I fancy the fright was
mutual. The ghost, in his excitement,
dropped one package of papers, but bolted
with the rest. He made for his lair in the
spring-hole and examined his booty. The
bonds were no more than old paper; he tossed
them aside. But the pennies and five-cent
pieces were real; he lit out for the village with
them. The robbery was not discovered till
morning and by that time the fellow was at
‘Jake's place on his way toward being the
drunkest nigger in the county.
“He stayed at the Corners a week or so until
the money was gone, then he came back to
the spring-hole. But he made the mistake
of venturing out by daylight; the stable-men
caught him and took him to the Colonel, and
you know the rest.
“As soon as I heard the story of the beat-
[323]


THE FOUR-POOLS MYSTERY
ing I decided to follow it up; and when I
heard of a jet black spirit rising from the
spring-hole, I decided to follow that up too.
At daylight this morning I routed out one of
the stable-men, and we went down and exam-
ined the spring-hole; at least I examined it
while he stood outside and shivered. It
yielded an even bigger find than I had hoped
for. Chucked off in a corner and trampled
with mud I found the bonds. A pile of cloth-
ing and carriage cushions formed a bed.
There were the remains of several fires and
of a great many chickens—the whole place
was strewn with feathers and bones; he had
evidently raided the roosts more than once.
“When I finished with the spring-hole it
still lacked something of six o'clock and I
rode over to the village hoping to get an
answer to my telegram. I wanted to get
Jeff’s case settled. ‘Miller's store was not
open but Jake's place was, and it was not
long before I got on the track of my man.
There was no doubt but that I had him ac-
counted for up to the time of the thrashing;
after that I could only conjecture. He had
[324]


CHAPTER XXIV
POLLY MAKES A PROPOSAL
WAS dropped in Kennisburg to attend
I to the legal formalities respecting Rad-
nor's release, while Terry appropriated
the horses and drove to Mathers Hall. His
last word to Mattison and me was not to
let a whisper reach Radnor's ear as to the
outcome of the investigation. He wanted
a spectacular dénouement. The sheriff as-
sented very soberly. The truth had at last
forced itself upon him that his chances with
Polly were over.
Terry reappeared, two hours later, with a
very excited young woman beside him. They
joined us in the bare little parlor of the jail,
and if Mattison needed any further proof
that the end had come, Polly's greeting fur-
nished it. An embarrassed flush rose to her
[329]


POLLY MAKES A PROPOSAL
“Well!” Polly sighed. “If you did mean
it, then I suppose I’ll have to ask you. Will
you marry me, Radnor?”
I laid a hand on Terry's arm and backed
him, much against his will, into the corridor.
“Jove! You don’t suppose he ’s going to
refuse her?” he inquired in a stage whisper.
“No such luck,” I laughed.
We took a couple of turns up and down
the corridor and cautiously presented our-
selves in the doorway. Polly was telling, be-
tween laughing and crying, the story of
Mose's discovery. Radnor came to meet us,
his left arm still around Polly, his right hand
extended to Terry.
“Will you shake hands, Patten?” he asked.
“I’m afraid I was n’t very decent, but you
know—”
“Oh, that 's no matter,” said Terry, easily.
“I was n’t holding it up against you. But I
hope you realize, Gaylord, that it's owing to
me you ’ve won Miss Mathers. She never
would have got up the courage to ask you,
if—” -
“Yes, I should!” flashed Polly. “I wanted
[331]


POLLY MAKES A PROPOSAL
making and it comes as easy as a murder
mystery!”
“You think that their engagement is due to
you?”
“But is n’t it? If it were n’t for me they’d
have it all to go over again from the begin-
ning, and there 's no telling how long they’d
take about it.”
“I hope they appreciate your services, Ter-
ry. You ’re so modest that what you do is
in danger of being overlooked.”
“They appreciate me fast enough,” re-
turned Terry, imperturbably. “I promised
Polly to spend my first vacation with 'em
after they’re married—Oh, you 'll see; I’ll
make a farmer one of these days!”
I laughed and then said seriously:
“Whether you made the marriage or not,
you have cleared Radnor's name from any
suspicion of dishonor, and I don’t know how
we can ever sufficiently show our gratitude.”
“That 's all right,” said Terry with a
deprecatory wave of his hand. “I enjoyed it.
Never did anything just like it before. I’ve
arranged a good many funerals of one sort or
[333]