The Four Pools Mystery by Jean Webster (book recommendations .TXT) 📕

/> "Well, we naturally looked into the matter."

"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 whereabouts 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. 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 existed only in their own imaginations."

"You believe then that there was no foundation 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 connection with the murder of your father?"

"No!" said Radnor.

"That is all, Mr. Gaylord.--James Clancy."

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 Radnor, but gave his evidence in a quick incisive way which forced the breathless attention of every one in the room. He told without interruption 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 suppose you lost something in the way of a fee?"

The detective looked slightly uncomfortable over the question.

"Well, no, as it happened I didn'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 hadn'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 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 troubling Colonel Gaylord with any such made-up story."

"Mr. Clancy is testifying," observed the coroner. "Now, Mr. Clancy, as I understand 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 accommodation 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 didn't want to stir up trouble. We all know that it isn't the innocent who pay blackmail," he added parenthetically.

"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 detective 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 belief 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 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 returned, picking it out from a bundle of papers on the table and handing it to him. "I am sorry to take up so much time with a matter 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 everyone 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 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 office 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 order to get rid of him. Nobody's character, nobody's correspondence, was safe while he was in the house."

The detective retired amidst general laughter and I could see that feeling had veered again in Radnor's favor. The total effect of the evidence respecting the ha'nt and the robbery was good rather than bad, and I more than fancied that I was indebted to the sheriff for it.

Radnor was not called again and that was the end of the testimony in regard to him. The rest of the time was taken up with a consideration of Cat-Eye Mose and some further questioning of the negroes in regard to the ha'nt. Old Nancy created considerable diversion with her account of the spirited roast chicken. It had changed materially since I heard it last. She was emphatic in her statement that "Marse Rad didn't have nuffen to do wif him. He was a sho' nuff ha'nt an' his gahments smelt o' de graveyard."

The evidence respecting Mose brought out nothing of any consequence, and with that the hearing was brought to a close. The coroner instructed the jury on two or three points of law and ended with the brief formula:

"You have heard the testimony given by these witnesses. It remains for you to do your duty."

After an interminable half hour the jury-men filed back to their seats and the clerk read the verdict:

"We find that the said Richard Gaylord came to his death in Luray Cavern on the 19th day of May, by cerebral hemorrhage, the result 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 stubborn 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.


CHAPTER XV

FALSE CLUES

The fight had now fairly begun. The district attorney was working up the side of the prosecution, aided, I was sure, by the over-zealous sheriff. It remained for me to map out some definite plan of action and organize the defence.

As I rode back to Four-Pools in the early evening after the inquest, I continued to dwell upon the evidence, searching blindly for some clue. The question which returned most persistently to my mind was "What has become of Cat-Eye Mose?" It was clear now that upon the answer to this question hinged the ultimate solution of the mystery. I still clung to the belief that he was guilty and in hiding. But five days had elapsed since the murder, and no trace of him had been discovered. It seemed incredible that a man, however well he might know his ground, could, with a whole county on his track, elude detection 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 nothing from the past that afforded even the suggestion 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 neighborhood, 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 knowing 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, 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, miserably 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 neighborhood, 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 negroes away from the laurel walk, and the night of the party Rad, in his masquerade, had accidentally discovered his brother. Jeff demanded money, and Rad undertook to supply it in order to get him away