pair of feet had
been bare. Mose had taken part in the struggle, and dreadful as was the
assurance, it was infinitely better than that other suspicion.

"It was Mose who committed the murder!" I cried to the coroner as I
pointed to the foot-prints in the clay.

He bent over beside me and examined the marks.

"Ah----Mose was present," he said slowly, "but so was someone else. See,
here is the print of the Colonel's boot and there beside it is the
print of another boot; it is fully an inch broader."

But it was difficult to make out anything clearly, so trampled was the
path. Our whole party had passed over the very spot not an hour before
the tragedy. Whatever the others could see, I, myself, was blind to
everything but the indisputable fact that Mose had been there.

As we were making ready to start back to the mouth of the cave, a cry
from one of the men called our attention again to the scene of the
struggle. He held up in his hand a small, gleaming object which he had
found trodden into the path. It was a silver match box covered with
dents and mud and marked "R. F. G." I recognized it instantly; I had
seen Radnor take it from his pocket a hundred times. As I looked at it
now my hope seemed to vanish and that same sickening suspicion rushed
over me again. The men eyed each other silently, and I did not have to
ask what they were thinking of. We turned without comments and started
on our journey back to the village. The body was carried to the hotel
to await the coroner's permission to take it home to Four-Pools. There
was nothing more for me to do, and with a heavy heart I mounted again to
return to the plantation.

Scarcely had I left the stable yard when I heard hoofs pounding along
behind me in the darkness, and Jim Mattison galloped up with two of his
men.

"If you are going to Four-Pools we will ride with you," he said, falling
into pace beside me while the officers dropped behind. "I might as well
tell you," he added, "that it looks black for Radnor. I'm sorry, but
it's my duty to keep him under arrest until some pretty strong
counter-evidence turns up."

"Where's Cat-Eye Mose?" I cried. "Why don't you arrest him?"

The sheriff made a gesture of disdain.

"That's nonsense. Everyone in the county knows Cat-Eye Mose. He wouldn't
hurt a fly. If he was present at the time of the crime it was to help
his master, and the man who killed Colonel Gaylord killed him too. I've
known him all my life and I can