The Captain puffed on his pipe and absently put down his hand to stroke the kitten’s back. “Carter disappeared about a year after his father’s death,” he said. “I ain’t heard tell of him since.”
“He didn’t,” inquired Eve, “take the blue emerald with him, did he?”
“Some said so,” Captain Trout answered. “But I reckon no one rightly knows. But the house—that rightly belongs to your aunt, I was told.”
“To Aunt Cal!” I cried in astonishment.
“Aye. Judd promised her she should have it. But the will, they say, was never found. Some say Carter didn’t want it should be, that he was jealous of Cal for bein’ in the old man’s good graces. But that’s just gossip, I reckon.”
“I think Captain Judd must have been a very interesting person,” declared Eve. “I wish I’d known him.”
“Aye, he was a fine chap. Great loss to the community, his death was.”
“Thank you very much for telling us about him,” I said. I felt that we ought to go back before Aunt Cal came downstairs. I got up, looking doubtfully at the sleeping kitten. It seemed a pity to disturb her.
The Captain appeared to read my thoughts. “Better let her sleep,” he said. “You can stop by for her later—if you want.”
As he uttered these words, I was conscious that another figure had joined our group. Adam had come out of the open kitchen door. He stood for a moment surveying us, advanced to the Captain, sniffed gingerly at the object in his lap; then, without a word—as it were—turned and walked down the steps.