"I don't see how you can help it," was his cool reply. "If she's in, she's in, and I'm not to blame. However, we won't quarrel about it now; we'll pay her a call in the morning." He ran his eyes over the clippings again, then added, "There are just two more points connecting Radnor Gaylord with the murder that need explaining: the foot-prints in the cave and the match box. The foot-prints I will dismiss for the present because I have not seen them myself and I can't make any deductions from hearsay evidence. But the question of the match box may repay a little investigation. I want you to tell me precisely what happened in the woods before you went into the cave. In the first place, how many older people were there in the party?" "Mr. and Mrs. Mathers, a lady who was visiting them and Colonel Gaylord." "There were two servants, I understand, besides this Mose, to help about the lunch. What did they do?" "Well, I don't know exactly. I wasn't paying much attention. I believe they carried things over from the hotel, collected wood for the fire, and then went to a farm house for water." "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."