I knew that he had sunk pretty low in the nine years since his disappearance, but I could never think of him otherwise than as I myself remembered him.

He had been the hero of my boyhood and I revolted from the thought of deliberately setting out to prove him guilty of his father's murder.
I spurred my horse into a gallop, miserably trying to escape from my suspicion; but the more I put it from me as impossible, the surer I became that at last I had stumbled on a clue.

Automatically, I began adjusting the evidence to fit this new theory, and reluctant as I was to see it, every circumstance from the beginning fitted it perfectly.
Jeff had returned secretly to the neighborhood, had taken up his abode in the old negro cabins and made his presence known only to Mose.

Mose had stolen the chicken for him, and the various other missing articles.
They had resurrected the ha'nt to frighten the negroes away from the laurel walk, and the night of the party Rad, in his masquerade, had accidentally discovered his brother.

Jeff demanded money, and Rad undertook to supply it in order to get him away without his father's knowing.