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This would explain Rad's actions in the hotel, his white face later when I found him in the summer house. And Jeff, still quivering from the boy's accusation, had gone back into the cave and met his father as the old man was coming from the little gallery of the broken column with Polly Mathers's coat.
"And now," said Mattison, rising, "I suppose the first thing, is to see about Radnor's release, though I swear I don't know yet what was the matter with him on the day of the crime." "I believe you have the honor of Miss Polly Mathers's acquaintance? Perhaps she will enlighten you," suggested Terry. A look of illumination flashed over Mattison's face. Terry laughed and rose.
Rad's temper was absolutely unbearable for the first week after the detective left. The reason had nothing to do with the stolen bonds, but was concerned entirely with Polly Mathers's behavior. She barely noticed Rad's existence, so occupied was she with the ecstatic young sheriff. What the trouble was, I did not know, but I suspected that it was the whispered conjectures in regard to the ha'nt.
See, here in the corner are drops of candle grease and the remains of a fire. On the day of the Mathers's picnic he doubtless saw the party pass through and recognized Colonel Gaylord. It brought to his mind the thrashing he had received. While he was still brooding over the matter, the Colonel came back alone, and it flashed into the fellow's mind that this was his chance.
"Would you rather go the short way over the mountains by a very rough road, or the long way through Kennisburg?" I inquired. "What's that?" he asked. "Oh, the short way by all means but first I want to call at the Mathers's." "It would simply be a waste of time." "It won't take long and since Radnor won't talk I've got to get at the facts from the other end. Besides, I want to see Polly myself."
He had been dead several hours when we found him, but the doctor could not be certain whether drowning, or the injury he had sustained, had been the immediate cause of death. Dangling from a jagged piece of rock half way down the cliff, we found Polly Mathers's coat, torn and drabbled with mud.
"Where did you leave the party?" "I believe in the gallery of the broken column." "You left the cave immediately?" "Yes." "Did you enter it again?" "No." "You forgot Miss Mathers's coat and left it in the gallery of the broken column?" "So it would seem." "Did you not think of that later and go back for it?" Radnor snapped out his answer. "No, I didn't think anything about the coat."
The Mathers's parlor is a long cool dim room with old-fashioned mahogany furniture and jars of roses scattered about. It was so dark after the bright sunshine of the rest of the house, that for a moment I didn't discover the occupants until the sound of Polly's sobbing proclaimed their whereabouts.
"Mattison would be glad enough to prove it," Radnor said bitterly, and he turned his back and stood staring through the iron bars of the window, while I went out and the jailer closed the door and locked it. All through the funeral that afternoon I could scarcely keep my eyes from Polly Mathers's face.
Why did he choose that particular time to make his request? You say he has had practical charge of affairs for the past three years. Why did he not wish to be independent last year? Or why did he not postpone the desire until next year?" I shrugged my shoulders. "You'll have to ask Radnor that." I had my own suspicions, but I did not wish to drag Polly Mathers's name into the discussion.
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