Part 48 (1/2)

”For the love av goodness, an' how is it yer after askin' me that now?

Sure an' I heard the story many a time, an' I'm after hearin' the ghost last night, an' it's a-s.h.i.+verin' yit Oi am.”

”What did you hear, Granny?”

”Och, an' it was the most divilish yells iver let out av a soul in h.e.l.l. Shure the Dog and the Cat both av thim was scairt, and the owld white-faced cow come a-runnin' an' jumped the bars to get aff av the road.”

Here was what Caleb wanted, and he kept her going by his evident interest. After she tired of providing more realistic details of the night's uproar, Caleb deliberately tapped another vintage of t.i.ttle-tattle in hope of further information leaking out.

”Granny, did you hear of a robbery last week down this side of Downey's Dump?”

”Shure an' I did not,” she exclaimed, her eyes ablaze with interest--neither had Caleb, for that matter; but he wanted to start the subject--”An” who was it was robbed?”

”Don't know, unless it was John Evans's place.”

”Shure an' I don't know him, but I warrant he could sthand to lose.

Shure an' it's when the raskils come after me an' Cal Conner the moment it was talked around that we had sold our Cow; then sez I, it's gittin' onraisonable, an' them divils sh.o.r.ely seems to know whin a wad o' money pa.s.ses.”

”That's the gospel truth. But when wuz you robbed, Granny?”

”Robbed? I didn't say I wuz robbed,” and she cackled. ”But the robbers had the best av intintions when they came to me,” and she related at length her experience with the two who broke in when her Cow was reported sold. She laughed over their enjoyment of the Lung Balm, and briefly told how the big man was sulky and the short, broad one was funny. Their black beards, the ”big wan” with his wounded head, his left-handedness and his accidental exposure of the three fingers of the right hand, all were fully talked over.

”When was it, Granny?”

”Och, shure an' it wuz about three years apast.”

Then after having had his lungs treated, old Caleb left Granny and set out to do some very hard thinking.

There had been robberies all around for the last four years; There was no clue but this: They were all of the same character; nothing but cash was taken, and the burglars seemed to have inside knowledge of the neighbourhood, and timed all their visits to happen just after the householder had come into possession of a roll of bills.

As soon as Caleb turned in at the de Neuville gate, Yan, acting on a belated thought, said:

”Boys, you go on to camp; I'll be after you in five minutes.” He wanted to draw those tracks in the mud and try to trail that man, so went back to the grave.

He studied the marks most carefully and by opening out the book he was able to draw the boot tracks life-size, noting that each had three rows of small hobnails on the heel, apparently put in at home because so irregular, while the sole of the left was worn into a hole. Then he studied the hand tracks, selected the clearest, and was drawing the right hand when something odd caught his attention.

Yes! It appeared in all the impressions of that hand--the middle finger was gone.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The three-fingered hand-print]

Yan followed the track on the road a little way, but at the corner it turned southward and was lost in the gra.s.s.

As he was going back to camp he overtook Caleb also returning.

”Mr. Clark,” he said. ”I went back to sketch those tracks, and do you know--that man had only three fingers on his right hand?”

”Consarn me!” said Caleb. ”Are you sure?”

”Come and see for yourself.”