"Well!" he exclaimed with a sudden access of energy, "I suppose we might as well sit down and tackle it." He took off his coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves; then shoving everything back from one end of the big library table, he settled himself in a chair and motioned me to one opposite.
"Tomorrow morning," he said as he took out from his pockets a roll of newspaper clippings and a yellow copy pad, "we will drive over and have a look at that cave; it ought to tell its own story.

But in the meantime--" he looked up with a laugh--"suppose we use our brains a little." I did not resent the inference.

Terry was his old impudent self, and I was so relieved at having him there, assuming the responsibility, that he might have wiped the floor with me and welcome.
"Our object," he commenced, "is not to prove your cousin innocent of the murder, but to find out who is guilty.

The most logical method would be to study the scene of the crime first, but as that does not appear feasible until morning, we will examine such data as we have.

On the face of it the only two who appear to be implicated are Radnor and this Cat-Eye Mose--who is a most picturesque character," Terry added, the reporter for the moment getting ahead of the detective.
He paused and examined the end of his fountain pen speculatively, and then ran through the pile of clippings before him.
"Well, now, as for Radnor.