If Mose's eyes looked as they did to-day I fancy the fright was mutual.
The ghost, in his excitement, dropped one package of papers, but bolted with the rest.
He made for his lair in the spring-hole and examined his booty.
The bonds were no more than old paper; he tossed them aside.
But the pennies and five-cent pieces were real; he lit out for the village with them.
The robbery was not discovered till morning and by that time the fellow was at 'Jake's place' on his way toward being the drunkest nigger in the county.
"He stayed at the Corners a week or so until the money was gone, then he came back to the spring-hole.
But he made the mistake of venturing out by daylight; the stable-men caught him and took him to the Colonel, and you know the rest.
"As soon as I heard the story of the beating I decided to follow it up; and when I heard of a jet black spirit rising from the spring-hole, I decided to follow that up too.
At daylight this morning I routed out one of the stable-men, and we went down and examined the spring-hole; at least I examined it while he stood outside and shivered.
It yielded an even bigger find than I had hoped for.
Chucked off in a corner and trampled with mud I found the bonds.
A pile of clothing and carriage cushions formed a bed.
There were the remains of several fires and of a great many chickens—the whole place was strewn with feathers and bones; he had evidently raided the roosts more than once.
"When I finished with the spring-hole it still lacked something of six o'clock and I rode over to the village hoping to get an answer to my telegram.
I wanted to get Jeff's case settled.
'Miller's store' was not open but 'Jake's place' was, and it was not long before I got on the track of my man.
There was no doubt but that I had him accounted for up to the time of the thrashing; after that I could only conjecture.
He had not appeared in the village again; the supposition was that he had taken to the woods.
Now he might or he might not have come in the direction of Luray.
All the facts I had to go upon were, a man of criminal proclivities, who owed Colonel Gaylord a grudge, and who was used to hiding in caves.
It was pure supposition that he had come in this direction and it had to be checked at every point by fact.
I didn't mention my suspicions because there was no use in raising false hopes and because, well—"
"You wanted to be dramatic," I suggested.
"Oh, yes, certainly, that's my business.
Well, anyway I felt I was getting warm, and I came over here this morning with my eyes open, ready to see what there was to see.
"The first thing I unearthed was this story of the church social provisions.
There had, then, been a thief of some sort in the neighborhood just at the time of Colonel Gaylord's murder.
The further theft of the boots fitted very neatly into the theory.
If the fellow had been tramping for a couple of days his shoes, already worn, had given out and been discarded.
The new ones, as we know, were too small—he left them at the bottom of the pasture—and went bare-footed.
The marks therefore in the cave, which everyone ascribed to Mose, were in all probability, not the marks of Mose at all.
Actual investigation proved that to be the case.
The rest, I think, you know.
The Four-Pools mystery has turned out to be a very simple affair—as most mysteries unfortunately do."
"I reckon you're a pretty good detective, Mr. Patten," said Mattison with a shade of envy in his voice.
Terry bowed his thanks and laughed.
"As a matter of fact," he returned, "I am not a detective of any sort—at least not officially.
I merely assume the part once in a while when there seems to be a demand.
Officially," he added, "I am the representative of the New York Post-Dispatch, a paper which, you may know, has solved a good many mysteries before now.
In this case, the Post-Dispatch will of course take the credit, but it wants a little more than that.
It wants to be the only paper tomorrow morning to print the true details.
We four are the only ones who know them.
I should, perhaps, have been a little more circumspect, and kept the facts to myself, but I knew that I could trust you."
His eye dwelt upon the sheriff a moment and then wandered to Pete Moser who had sat silently listening throughout the colloquy.
"Would it be too much," Terry inquired, "to ask you to keep silent until tomorrow morning?"
"You can trust me to keep quiet," said Mattison, holding out his hand.
"Me too," said Moser. "I reckon I can make up something that'll satisfy the boys about as well as the real thing."
"Thank you," Terry said. "I guess you can all right!
There doesn't seem to be anything the matter with your imaginations down here."