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But it won't do for me to jump at conclusions until I get more data. I suppose you realize what is the peculiarly significant point about the murder?" "You mean Mose's disappearance?" "Well, no. I didn't have that in mind. That's significant enough to be sure, but nothing but what you would naturally expect.
"This Mose was left behind the night of the robbery with orders to rouse the house while Radnor was away. Mose is a good actor and he fooled you. The obvious suspicion was that the ghost had stolen the bonds and you set out to find him a somewhat difficult task as he existed only in Mose's imagination. I think when you reflect upon the evidence, you will see that my explanation is convincing."
After dinner, while we were drinking to Mose's health and smoking cigars, Judge Smith requested me to show our honored guest the baby ticket. I did, and downed him for a bottle, but it did not cost him a cent, for his Queen City money was no good in the Crescent City so long as he remained with the Judge, for they were kindred spirits.
They halted at the seat occupied by Mose. They looked at him and then at a photograph they had with them. Finally one of them put his hand on Mose's shoulder, and said: "We want you's." So he smiled one of those sweet smiles of his, and said: "Officers, this is all a joke. I am Judge of the Police Court of Cincinnati, and I am well acquainted with the Judge of your Court.
In the light of what I already knew, I was considerably puzzled by this fresh manifestation. The Colonel fretted and fumed up and down the veranda, muttering something about these fool niggers all being alike. He had bragged considerably about Mose's immunity in respect to ha'nts, and I think he was rather dashed at his favorite's falling-off. I held my peace, and Radnor returned in a few minutes.
We made a search of the premises to assure ourselves that there was nothing tangible about Mose's ha'nt; but I was in such a hurry to get the Colonel safely upstairs again, that our search was somewhat cursory. We both overlooked the little office that opened off the dining-room.
Now, good-by, lad, and take care of yourself." Mose's voice trembled as he took Delmar's hand and said: "Good-by, Mr. Delmar, I'm awfully obliged to you." "That's all right now git." Mose, once more on his own horse, galloped off to the West, his heart big with love for his stern benefactor.
So he pa gwine whop him fo' tellin' a fib 'bout dey ain' no ghosts whin yiver'body know' dey is ghosts; but de school-teacher, whut board at Unc' Silas Diggs's house, she tek' note de hair ob li'l' black Mose's head am plumb white, an' she tek' note li'l' black Mose's face am de color ob wood-ash, so she jes retch' one arm round dat li'l' black boy, an' she jes snuggle' him up, an' she say': "Honey lamb, don't you be skeered; ain' nobody gwine hurt you.
I shut my eyes during the operation and when I opened them again I saw to my horror that he was stuffing the carcass in the front of his shirt. "Good heavens, Mose!" I cried, aghast. "What are you going to do with that?" "Boil it into oil, sah, to scar de witches off." Inquiry at the house that night brought out the fact that this was one of Mose's regular occupations.
Yas, sah, dey-all say dem wo'ds so fas' it soun like de wind whin it moan frough de turkentine-trees whut behind de cider-priss. An' yevery hair whut on li'l black Mose's head turn white. Dat whut happen whin a li'l black boy gwine meet a ghost convintion dat a-way. Dat's so he ain't gwine fergit to remimber dey ain't no ghosts.
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