"He is, practically.
There are a few minor bequests to the servants and to some old friends."
"Did the servants know that anything was to go to them?"
"No, I don't think they did."
"And this Cat-Eye Mose, did he receive a share?"
"Yes, larger than any of the others."
"It seems that Colonel Gaylord, at least, had confidence in him.
And how about the other son?
Did he know that he was to be disinherited?"
"I think that the Colonel made it plain at the time they parted."
Terry shook his head and frowned.
"This disinheriting business is bad.
I don't like it and I never shall.
It stirs up more ill-feeling than anything I know of.
Jeff seems to have proved an alibi, however, and we will dismiss him for the present."
"Rad has always sympathized with Jeff," I said.
"Then," continued Terry, "if the servants did not know the contents of the will, and we have all of the data, Radnor is the only one who could knowingly have benefited by the Colonel's death.
Suppose we take a glance at motives of fear.
Do you know of anyone who had reason to stand in fear of the Colonel?
He wasn't oppressing anybody?
No damaging evidence against any person in his possession?
Not levying blackmail was he?"
"Not that I know of," and I smiled slightly.
"It's not likely," mused Terry, "but you never can tell what is going to come out when a respectable man is dead.—And now as to revenge.
With a man of Colonel Gaylord's character, there were likely to be a good many people who owed him a bad turn.
He seems to have been a peppery old gentleman.
It's quite on the cards that he had some enemies among his neighbors?"
"No, so far as I can discover, he was very popular in the neighborhood.
The indignation over his death was something tremendous.
When it first got out that Rad was accused of the crime, there was even talk of lynching him."
"So?—Servants all appeared to be fond of him?"
"The old family servants were broken-hearted at the news of his death.
They had been, for the most part, born and bred on the place, and in spite of his occasional harshness they loved the Colonel with the old-fashioned devotion of the slave toward his master.
He was in his way exceedingly kind to them.
When old Uncle Eben died my uncle watched all night by his bed."
"It's a queer situation," Terry muttered, and relapsed into silence till we reached the jail.
It was an ivy-covered brick building set back from the street and shaded by trees.
"Rather more home-like than the Tombs," Terry commented. "Shouldn't mind taking a rest in it myself."
We found Radnor pacing up and down the small room in which he was confined, like a caged animal; the anxiety and seclusion were beginning to tell on his nerves.
He faced about quickly as the door opened and at sight of me his face lightened.
He was growing pathetically pleased at having anyone with whom he could talk.
"Rad," I said with an air of cheerfulness which was not entirely assumed, "I hope we're nearing the end of our trouble at last.
This is Mr. Patten—Terry Patten of New York, who has come to help me unravel the mystery."
It was an unfortunate beginning; I had told him before of Terry's connection with the Patterson-Pratt affair.
He had half held out his hand as I commenced to speak, but he dropped it now with a slight frown.
"I don't think I care to be interviewed," he remarked curtly. "I have nothing to say for the benefit of the Post-Dispatch."
"You'd better," said Terry, imperturbably.
"The Post-Dispatch prints the truth, you know, and some of the other papers don't.
The truth's always the best in the end.
I merely want to find out what information you can give me in regard to the ghost."