"Yes," I said, "that's the kind the Colonel always smoked--a fresh box
was stolen from the dining-room cupboard a day or so after I got here.
Solomon said it was the ha'nt, but we suspected it was Solomon."
"Was the cupboard unlocked?"
"Oh, yes; any of the house servants could have got at it."
"Well," said Terry, poking his head from the windows for a view of the
ground beneath, "that's all there seems to be here; we might as well go
down."
We boosted up the two meal bags again, and started back toward the
house. Terry's eyes studied his surroundings keenly, whether for the
sake of the story he was planning to write or the mystery he was trying
to solve, I could only conjecture. His glance presently fixed on the
stables where old Uncle Jake was visible sitting on an upturned pail in
the doorway.
"You go on," he ordered, "and have 'em put dinner or supper or whatever
you call it on the table, and I'll be back in three minutes. I want to
see what that old fellow over there has to say in regard to the ghost."
It was fifteen minutes later that Terry reappeared.
"Well," I inquired as I led the way to the dining-room, "did you get any
news of the ghost?"
"Did I! The Society for Psychical Research ought to investigate this
neighborhood. They'd find more spirits in half an hour than they've
found in their whole past history."
Terry's attention during supper was chiefly directed toward Nancy's
fried chicken and beat biscuits. When he did make any remarks he
addressed them to Solomon rather than to me. Solomon was loquacious
enough in general, but he had his own ideas of table decorum, and it was
evident that the friendly advances of my guest considerably scandalized
him. When the coffee and cigars were brought on, Terry appeared to be on
the point of inviting Solomon to sit down and have a cigar with us; but
he thought better of it, and contented himself with talking to the old
man across my shoulder. He confined his questions to matters concerning
the household and the farm, and Solomon in vain endeavored to confine
his replies to "yes, sah," "no, sah," "jes' so, sah!" In five minutes he
was well started, and it would have required a flood-gate to stop him.
In the midst of it Terry rose and dismissing me with a brief, "I'll join
you in the library later; I want to talk to Solomon a few minutes," he
bowed me out and shut the door.
I was amused rather than annoyed by this summary dismissal. Terry had
been in the house not quite two hours, and I am sure that a third
person, looking on, would have picked me out for the stranger. Terry's
way of being at home in any surroundings was absolutely inimitable. Had
he ever had occasion to visit Windsor Castle I am sure that he would
have set about immediately making King Edward feel at home.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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