TERRY ARRIVES AT A CONCLUSION
"And now," said Terry, lighting a fresh 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 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 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 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 examined
everything carefully, but it's awfully 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
muddle matters up so thoroughly I should. I dare say you've trampled 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 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 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
considerably 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 tabulated."
"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 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 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 moody and irritable. I could see that something was preying 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 levying blackmail."
"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 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
evening 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?"
"The Colonel was angry because he had been bragging about Mose not
being afraid, and Rad was dazed. He didn'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 conclusion
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 shamming, 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 didn't gain much by raising all that hullabaloo 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 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 robbery that the ha'nt excitement rather died down. Then I
believe there were some rumors 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 pajamas, a French novel, some brandy, quite a lot of
things to eat--fresh loaves of bread, preserves, 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."
"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 moments 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 convenience 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 Radnor knew about him--and
didn't get much enjoyment out of the knowledge. It took money to get
rid of him--a hundred dollars down and the promise of more to come.
Radnor himself drove him off in the carriage the night he left, and Mose
obliterated all traces of his presence. So much for number one.
"As for number two, he appeared three or four days before the robbery
and haunted pretty much the whole place, especially the region of the
spring-hole. In appearance he was nine feet tall, transparent, and
black. Smoke came from his mouth and blue flames from his eyes. There
was a sulphurous odor about him. He was first seen rising out of the
spring-hole, and there is a passage in the bottom of the spring-hole
that leads straight down to hell. Solomon is my authority.
"I asked him how he explained the apparition and he reckoned it was the
ghost of the slave who was beaten to death, and that since his old
master had come back to haunt the laurel walk, he had come back to haunt
his old master. That sounds to me like a plausible explanation. As soon
as it's light I'll have a look at the spring-hole."
"Terry," I said disgustedly, "that may make a very picturesque
newspaper story, but it doesn't help much in unravelling the mystery."
"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 significant. 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 number 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 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 isn'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 bumping against a stone wall."
"We'll have Rad over to dinner with us tomorrow 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 haven'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 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-Dispatch 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 nervous; 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 needn't worry any more."