Having lighted our candles, we descended¹ into the cave and set out along the path I now knew so well. When we reached the pool the guide lit a calcium² light which threw a fierce white glare over the little body of water and the limestone³ cliffs, and even penetrated⁴ to the stalactite draped roof far above our heads. For a moment we stood blinking our eyes scarcely able to see, so sudden was the change from the semi-darkness of our four flickering⁵ candles. Then Terry stepped forward.
 
"Show me where you found the body and point out the spot where the struggle took place."
 
He spoke⁶ in quick, eager tones, so excited that he almost stuttered. It was not necessary for him to act the part of detective any 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 pointed⁷ 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 discovered 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 bent⁸ 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 exclamation⁹ of surprise.
 
"Did any negroes come in with you to recover the body?" he asked.
 
"No," returned the sheriff, "as old man Tompkins said, you couldn't hire a nigger to stick his head in here after the Colonel was found. They say they can hear something wailing¹⁰ around the pool and they think his ghost is haunting it."
 
"They can hear something wailing, can they?" Terry repeated queerly. "Well I begin to believe they can! What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, facing around at us. "How do you account for these peculiar¹¹ foot-prints?"
 
"What prints?" I asked as we all pressed forward.
 
At the moment the calcium light with a final flare¹², died out, and we were left again in the flickering candle light which seemed darkness to us now.
 
"Quick, touch off another calcium!" said Terry, with suppressed impatience¹³. He laid a hand on my shoulder and my arm ached from the tightness of his grip. "There," he said pointing with his finger as the light flared¹⁴ up again. "What do you make of those?"
 
I bent over and plainly traced the prints of bare feet, going and coming and over-lapping one another, just as an animal would 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 everything thoroughly¹⁵, but I was so excited I suppose—"
 
"What did you make of them?" he interrupted, whirling about on Mattison who was looking over our shoulders.
 
"I—I didn't see them," Mattison stammered¹⁶.
 
"For heaven's sake, men," said Terry impatiently. "Do you mean they weren't there or you didn'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, commenced examining the path which led up the incline. He mounted the three stone steps, and with his eyes on the ground, slowly advanced 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 demonstration¹⁷ 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 prints of bare feet which marked the entire vicinity of the struggle. We had both examined them more than once before, and we saw nothing now but what had already appeared. We straightened up and shook our heads.
 
"They're the prints of bare feet," said Mattison, stolidly¹⁸. "But I don't see that they're any different from any other bare feet."
 
Terry handed him the ruler.
 
"Measure them," he said. "Measure this one that's flat on the ground. Now go down and measure one of those prints by the borders of the pool."
 
Mattison took the ruler and complied. As he bent over the marks on the lower border we could see by the light of his candle the look of astonishment¹⁹ that sprang into his face.
 
"Well, what do you find?" Terry asked.
 
"The marks up there are nearly two inches longer and an inch broader."
 
"Exactly."
 
"Terry," I said, "you can't blame us for not finding that out. We examined everything when we took away the body, and those marks below were simply not there. Someone 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 assailant. 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. And besides, how did you account for the fact that there was only one mark? A man engaged 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 dealing²⁰ 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—remains²¹ 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 entrance to the little gallery of the broken column it diverged²², one part leading into the gallery, and the other into a sort of blind alley²³ 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 huddled²⁴ group on the one or two boards he had left us and watched him curiously²⁵ as he made his way down the passage. He paused at the end and examined the ground. We saw him stoop and pick up something. Then he rose quickly with a cry of triumph and came running back to us holding his hands behind him.
 
"It's just as I suspected," he said, his eyes shining with excitement. "Colonel Gaylord had an enemy he did not know."
 
"What do you mean?" we asked, crowding around.
 
"Here's the proof," and he held out towards us a well gnawed²⁶ ham bone in one hand and a cheese rind in the other. "These were the provisions intended for the church social; the pies, I fancy, have disappeared."
 
We stared at him a moment in silent wonder. The sheriff was the first to assert himself.
 
"What have these to do with the crime?" he asked, viewing the trophies²⁷ with an air of disgust.
 
"Everything. The man who stole those is the man who robbed the safe and who murdered Colonel Gaylord.&............