"

"But Mrs. Mathers, it seems, attended to lighting the fire?"

"Yes, she and the Colonel made the fire and started the coffee."

"Ah!" said Terry with a note of satisfaction in his voice. "The matter
begins to clear. Was Colonel Gaylord in the habit of smoking?"

"He smoked one cigar after every meal."

"Never any more than that?"

"No, the doctor had limited him. The Colonel grumbled about it
regularly, and always smoked the biggest blackest cigar he could find."

"And where did he get his matches?"

"Solomon passed the brass match box from the dining-room mantelpiece
just as he passed it to us to-night."

"Colonel Gaylord was not in the habit of carrying matches in his pockets
then?"

"No, I think not."

"We may safely assume," said Terry, "that in this matter of making the
fire, if the two were working together, the Colonel was on his knees
arranging the sticks while Mrs. Mathers was standing by, giving
directions. That, I believe, is the usual division of labor. Well, then,
they get to the point of needing a light. The Colonel feels through his
pockets, finds that he hasn't a match and--what happens?"

"What did happen," I broke in, "was that Mrs. Mathers turned to a group
of us who were standing talking at one side, and asked if any of us had
a match, and Rad handed her his box. That is the last anyone remembers
about it."

"Exactly!" said Terry. "And I think I can tell you the rest. You can see
for yourself what took place. Mrs. Mathers went back to the spot where
they were building the fire, and the Colonel took the match box from
her. No man is ever going to stand by and watch a woman strike a
match--he can do it so much better himself. At this point, Mrs.
Mathers--by her own testimony--was called away, and she doesn't
remember anything further about the box. She thinks that she returned
it. Why? For no reason on earth except that she usually returns things.
As a matter of fact, however, she didn't do it this time. She was called
away and the Colonel was left to light the fire alone. He recognized the
box as his son's and he dropped it into his pocket. At another time
perhaps he would have walked over and handed it back; but not then. The
two were not speaking to each other. Later, at the time of the struggle
in the cave, the box fell from the old man's pocket, and formed a most
damaging piece of circumstantial evidence against his son.

"On the whole," Terry finished, "I do not think we shall