"And now," said Terry, lighting¹ a fresh cigar, and after a few preliminary puffs², settling down to work again, "we will consider the case of Cat-Eye Mose—a beautiful name, by the way, and apparently³ 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 shrugged⁴ my shoulders. There was nothing to be gained by getting angry. If Terry chose to regard the solving of a murder mystery 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.
 
"And you base your suspicions, do you not, upon the fact that he has queer eyes?"
 
"Not entirely⁵."
 
"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 conclusive—there is no mistake about the foot-prints?"
 
"None whatever; the Mathers niggers both wore shoes, and anyway they didn'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 [Pg 249]examined everything carefully, but it's awfully⁶ mixed up, you know. One really can't tell much about it."
 
Terry impatiently flung himself into the chair again.
 
"I ought to have come down last week! If I had supposed you people could muddle⁷ matters up so thoroughly⁸ I should. I dare say you've trampled⁹ the whole place over till there isn't one of the original marks left."
 
"Look here, Terry," I said. "You act as if Virginia belonged to you. We've all been working our heads off over this business, and you come in at the last moment and quarrel with our data. You can go over tomorrow morning and collect your own evidence if you think it's so far superior to anyone else's. The marks are just as they were. Boards have been laid over them and nothing's been disturbed."
 
"You're rather done up, old man," Terry remarked, smiling across at me good-humoredly. "Of course it's quite on the cards that Cat-Eye Mose committed the crime—but there are a number of objections. As I understand 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 anyone, 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 determined¹⁰ 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 appearance, 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 night he drove Radnor and me home from a party, and I could actually see his eyes shining in the dark. It's the most gruesome thing I ever saw; and take that on top of his habits—he carries snakes around in the front of his shirt—really, one suspects him of anything."
 
"I hope he isn't dead," Terry murmured wistfully. "I'd like a personal interview."
 
He sat sunk down in his chair for several minutes intently examining the end of his fountain pen.
 
"Well," he said rousing himself, "it's time we had a shy at the ghost. We must find out in what way Radnor and Mose were connected with him, and in what way he was connected with the robbery. Radnor could help us considerably¹¹ if he would only talk—the fact that he won't talk is very suggestive. We'll get at the truth without him, though. Suppose you begin and tell me everything from the first appearance of the ha'nt. I should like to get him tabulated¹²."
 
"The first definite thing that reached the house," I replied, "was the night of my arrival 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 entrance. 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 hadn't a suspicion himself."
 
"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 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 constant consultation¹⁴?"
 
"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 didn't show any fear over the stories?"
 
"Not the slightest—appeared rather to enjoy them."
 
"And Radnor—how did he take the matter?"
 
"He was moody¹⁵ and irritable¹⁶. I could see that something was preying¹⁷ on his mind."
 
"How did you explain the matter to yourself?"
 
"I was afraid he had fallen into the clutches of someone who was threatening him, possibly levying¹⁸ blackmail¹⁹."
 
"But you didn't make any attempt to discover the truth?"
 
"Well, it was Rad's own affair, and I didn'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 rumors²⁰ were running about among the............