His promptness proved that he was angry.
Four-Pools is about two miles from the village 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 spacious 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 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 fortunate 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 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 eclat 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 thousand dollars in bonds to lose.
I knew that it would be useless to try to head off the detective now, and I wisely kept silent.
My mind was by no means at rest however; for an unknown reason I did not want a detective any more than Radnor.
I had the intangible feeling that there was something in the air which might better not be discovered.
CHAPTER VII WE SEND HIM BACK AGAIN
The detective came.
He was an inoffensive 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 Colonel's best cigars stood on the table of his room, and Solomon at his elbow presented a succession 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 regard 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 professional.
Finally one evening—it was four days after his arrival—he joined me as I was strolling 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 coming.
"I have spotted my man," he said. "I know who stole the securities; but I am afraid that the information will not be welcome.
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 incapable 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!