The Ashiel mystery Part 11

Gimblet heard the change in her tone.

"You think I am talking plat.i.tudes about the weather," he said quickly, "and you think I am unsympathetic for your distress; but, believe me, what I said is very much to the point. If it has not rained the murderer's footmarks will be very much more easily seen, and that is very important."

"You don't know," said Juliet in a voice that trembled ominously. "They have found plenty of footmarks. The Glasgow detectives said they were Sir-Sir David Southern's. They found his gun too, not cleaned; and they say he did it, and they have taken him away, to-to prison." A sob escaped her, but she controlled herself with a great effort and went on: "You must prove that he didn't do it. I know he didn't. Anyone who knew him must know he didn't. Oh you must, you must, find the real murderer!"

Gimblet was silent for a moment before this appeal. It was difficult to know what to say. He knew Macross well for a cautious, intelligent officer; if he had arrested Sir David Southern it seemed pretty certain that there was good evidence against that gentleman. On the other hand Lord Ashiel had seemed to think it likely that his death might wear an appearance calculated to mislead. Still Gimblet had a deep-rooted prejudice against holding out hopes he could not see a good chance of fulfilling, and he had so often been appealed to by distracted women to save their friend and "find the real murderer."

"Will you not begin at the beginning?" he said at last. "I know how you came to be staying at Inverashiel, but I know nothing of what has happened since your arrival, except the bare fact of Lord Ashiel's death. Tell me every detail you can think of, but, first, who else was staying at the castle besides yourself? I suppose they have left now?"

"Yes, they have all gone," said Juliet. "The men went before it all happened, and the others the next day. There were Lady Ruth Worsfold and Mrs. Clutsam; they are both cousins of Lord Ashiel's, and he lends them little houses that belong to him near here, but they were staying at the castle for a week or two. Then there was Miss Julia Romaninov. She is half a Russian, and Lord Ashiel's sister, who is away just now, had invited her. An American girl, Miss Tarver, a great heiress, was there too. The men were Sir George Hatch and Colonel Spicer, who are cousins of Lord Ashiel's; and Mr. Mark McConachan and Sir David Southern, who are his nephews, Mr. McConachan being the son of his dead brother, while Sir David is his younger sister's child.

"I have been here a fortnight. The time has gone quickly. Every one was very nice to me; and, though nothing out of the way happened, it was all new and delightful, and I enjoyed it very much. Lord Ashiel, especially, was kindness itself; he was never tired of explaining to me the customs and traditions of the countryside, and he spared no pains to see that I was amused and entertained. I was with him most of the time, and grew to know him very well. I thought him a wonderful man: so clever, so widely read, so tolerant and sympathetic in his opinions. He was terribly delicate, though; he had continual headaches, and was so easily tired; but he told me it was a new thing for him to feel ill; up till a year or so ago he had always had the best of health. Mrs. Clutsam told me she thought he had been terribly worried over something; she didn't know what it was; and of course it is not so very long since his wife and child died. But he did not strike me as being troubled about anything; his eyes had a sad expression, and sometimes he looked at me in a wondering sort of way; but I never saw him appear worried, and he was always cheerful and lively while I was with him."

"Was he not equally so with the rest of the party?" asked Gimblet. "Did he show his likes and dislikes plainly?"

"I am afraid he did, rather. I think feeling ill and tired made him irritable, and his temper was very quick. But he was always nice to me."

"Who wasn't he nice too?"

"Well, I don't think he liked Miss Romaninov much, In fact, she seemed to get on his nerves, and sometimes he was so rude to her that I used to wonder that she stayed. But she is such a quiet, good-tempered little thing; she never seems to mind anything, and she was really sorry and upset when he died. And he didn't much like the other girl, Miss Tarver, but he made an effort, I think, to bear with her for his nephew's sake. He said to me how glad he was that the boy would be well provided for."

"Which nephew?" asked Gimblet. "I don't understand. What had Miss Tarver to do with it?"

"Sir David Southern was engaged to marry her. She has thrown him over now," said Juliet, and in spite of herself there was a trace of elation in her voice. "As soon as Sir David was suspected of the murder she broke off the engagement."

"Ah," said Gimblet, stooping to pick a piece of bracken, and waving it before him to keep at bay the flies, which were buzzing round them in clouds. He offered another bit silently to his companion, and she took it absently, without a word.

"He seemed very fond of Mr. McConachan," she said, "and I think he liked every one else as well. Yes, I am sure he did, though he did have a dreadful quarrel with Sir David two days before he was killed; and he was angry with him once before that."

"Ah," said Gimblet again. "How was that?"

"The first time it was my fault, or partly my fault," Juliet went on. "It was out shooting, and I couldn't go as fast as the others, so I lagged behind and nearly got shot by accident, as Mr. McConachan thought we were in front of him. Sir David was with me, and Lord Ashiel was fearfully angry with him, and said he'd no business to let me get in a place where I might have been killed. He was rather cross with him for the next few days, though I told him it was my fault; and then the other day, when Sir David annoyed him again, there was a frightful row."

"Was that your fault too?" asked Gimblet with a smile.

"No, it really wasn't. Sir David had a dog, a retriever, to which he was devoted, but which Lord Ashiel hated. It was not a well-trained dog, I must admit, and it used to pay very little attention to its master, except at meal times, when it became very affectionate, not only to him, but to every one. The truth is that he spoilt it, and never punished it when it did wrong, or took any trouble to make it behave better. I heard that before I arrived there was trouble about it, as it did a lot of damage in the garden, trampling down the flower-beds, and knocking Lord Ashiel's favourite plants to pieces-he was very fond of gardening-and the very first day they went out shooting it ran away for miles, and Sir David after it, which delayed one of the drives half an hour. His uncle had been very cross about that, they said, and told Sir David he must keep it on a chain; but the next day it ate a grouse it was supposed to be retrieving, and Lord Ashiel was furious, and said that if it did anything more of the kind he'd have it killed.

"However, after that, all went well. The dog was kept tightly chained, and nothing happened till the other day. We were all out on the moors, waiting in the b.u.t.ts for the last drive to begin. Everything had gone badly with the shooting that day; the birds all went the wrong way; there were hardly enough guns for driving, anyhow; there was a high wind, and the shooting had been shocking; no one had shot well except Mr. McConachan, who is such a good shot; every one had been wounding their birds, and that always annoyed Lord Ashiel. He was in a very bad temper, and though he was not cross with me, I was rather afraid he might be, so I went and stood with Sir David. Miss Tarver was watching Sir George Hatch in the next b.u.t.t, and then came Colonel Spicer, with Mr. McConachan and Lord Ashiel right at the end of the line.

"We had been waiting some time, when Sir David whispered to me that the birds were coming, and crouched down under the wall of the b.u.t.t. His loader was kneeling behind him ready to hand him his second gun, with two cartridges stuck between his fingers to reload the first one. We were all intent on the grouse, and no one noticed that that wretched dog had worked his head out of his collar and was roaming about behind us. Just at that moment a mountain hare came lolloping along the crest of the hill, and, deceived by the stillness, came to a pause just opposite us and sat up on its hind legs to brush its whiskers with its paw. Its toilette didn't last long, however, for by that time the dog had caught its wind, and with a series of yelps had hurled itself upon it. The hare was off in a second, and away they went, straight down the line, the dog making as much noise as a whole pack of hounds as he bounded and leapt over the thick heather. Sir David started up with an exclamation of dismay, and I, too, stood up and looked over the top of the b.u.t.t. Following the direction of his eyes, I saw clouds of grouse streaming away to the left, all turning as they came over the hill, and wheeling away from us towards the north.

"The drive was absolutely spoilt. The hare and its pursuer had by this time gone the whole length of the b.u.t.ts, and looked like going till Christmas. Lord Ashiel had come out into the open, and we saw him put his gun to his shoulder. The dog gave one last leap, and rolled over before the report reached our ears. It was a quarter of a mile away from us."

Juliet paused; she was out of breath; they had been walking fast and were within sight of the castle gates. The way led along the side of Loch Ashiel, and the castle rose in front of them on a tall rocky promontory, which jutted far into the water.

"Let us rest here a few minutes," said Gimblet. "It is too much to ask you to talk while we are walking up that hill, and I don't want you to leave out any details, however unimportant they may appear to you."

CHAPTER VIII

They had reached a place where a wide horseshoe of beach ran down to the loch. For more than a week there had been no rain to speak of. The season as a whole had been dry, and the water was very low; tufts of gra.s.s dotted the sh.o.r.e; brambles and young alders were springing up bravely, determined to make the most of their time. At the back stretched a meadow, part of which had been cut for hay; the rest of it was so full of weeds and wild flowers, ragweed, burdock and the red stalks of sorrel, that it had been left untouched, and filled the foreground with colour. The gra.s.s had gone to seed and turned a rich reddish purple; beneath it grew wild geraniums whose leaves were already scarlet. Bluebells and scabious made a haze of mauve, and everywhere the warm, sandy stalks of the dried gra.s.ses shone yellow through the patch.

They sat down at the edge of the beach and leant back against the overhanging turf. Opposite to them the little town of Crianan clung to the steep rocks below Ben Ghusy, the houses looking as if they stood piled one on top of another in a rough pyramid; and the whole surmounted by the high walls and tower of the Roman Catholic monastery which dominated the scene, and always seemed to Juliet to wear a look of stern defiance, as if it were offering a challenge to that other fortress that frowned back at it. She could imagine the monks in the old days, standing on its parapet and daring the Lords of Inverashiel to do their worst. Far away down the loch lay the hills, scarce more deeply grey than the water; beyond them more distant tops melted into the sky. The grey ripples lapped gently on jagged shingle, and a persistent housefly buzzed loudly round their heads; at that hour there were as yet few midges, and it was very peaceful, very solitary, very desolate.

"I don't know," said Juliet, going on with her story where she had left off, "which was more angry, Lord Ashiel or Sir David. After the first few minutes, in which they both said things I am sure they regretted afterwards, neither of them would speak to the other, and it was a very uncomfortable evening for every one. The next day was better. Colonel Spicer and Sir George left by the morning train, both going on to shoot in other parts of Scotland. Mrs. Clutsam went away too; she had some one coming to stay with her at her own house near by. Both the young men went stalking on different parts of the forest, and Lord Ashiel and I, with the two other girls, spent the morning on the loch trolling for salmon; but we didn't get a rise.

"In the afternoon I walked up the river with Julia Romaninov; we talked about our schooldays. She had been at school in Germany, and I in Switzerland. After a while she got tired and went home, but I went on by myself, for I had a lot of things to think of, and was glad to be alone. I came at last to a great pool among the rocks, where the river comes down in a fall from far above in a cloud of spray and foam. I stood on a stone at the water's edge and watched the trout rising in the pool. The river was low and the water very clear. Standing on the rocks above it, it seemed as if I could see every pebble at the bottom, except where they were hidden in the ripples which spread away from beneath the fall. The pool is like the bottom of a well; high rocks rear themselves round it to a great height; they are veiled in a greenness of fern and moss, and near the top many trees have found a roothold in the crevices and bend forward towards each other over the water, as divers poise themselves before leaping down. Through a narrow opening opposite the fall the river makes its way onward. As I stood there a stone must have come down from the heights above. I did not see it, and the noise of the waterfall deadened any sound of its descent, but suddenly I felt a heavy blow between the shoulders, and I must have tumbled forward into the pool below.

"The next thing I remember was looking up into the anxious friendly face of Andrew Campbell, one of the ghillies at Inverashiel. It seemed to be hanging above me in the sky, which was the only other thing I could see, and I wondered vaguely why I saw it upside down. My head was aching cruelly and I couldn't imagine what was the matter, though I was too weak and faint to care. To cut my adventure short, Andrew had come to a pool lower down the river just as I floated into it on top of the current; he had fished me out, and was now restoring me to life again. I was got back to the house, how I hardly know, put to bed, and actually wept over by Lord Ashiel. By the evening I had so far recovered that I was able to come down to dinner, though I should not have done so if it had not been for the anxiety of my host, as my head still felt as if it was going to split. I received many congratulations on my escape, and Lord Ashiel, when he spoke of it, was so much moved that every one was quite embarra.s.sed, and I myself was touched beyond expression at the affection he did not attempt to conceal. He was very silent after that, but in spite of him dinner that night was a merry meal. Every one was in the best of spirits, or else a.s.sumed them for the time being. We all joked and laughed over my adventure, and Mr. McConachan said I bore a charmed life, since I had escaped being killed by his careless shot, and now the river refused to drown me. It was not till the servants had left the room, and we were preparing to do the same, that Lord Ashiel spoke again.

"Lady Ruth had got up, and was moving towards the door, and the other girls and I were following her, when he called her back. 'Will you wait a minute, Ruth,' he said. 'I have something to tell you and my young friends here.' He smiled round at all of us, including Sir David, to whom he hadn't spoken since the affair of the dog. 'I have some good news which I want you to share with me.' He took me by the hand and drew me forward. 'I want,' said he, 'to introduce you all to a young lady whom you do not know. This is Juliet McConachan, my dear and only daughter.'

"I was not really so surprised as he expected. His behaviour to me had made me suspicious, and during the last few days especially I had allowed myself to nourish a hope that we were related. But I was glad. I can't tell you how glad and thankful. Every one else was tremendously surprised. They all cl.u.s.tered round us with questions and exclamations, but Lord Ashiel would say no more just then, and only smiled and beamed, and nodded mysteriously. 'I am not going to answer any questions till I have had a talk with Juliet,' he said. 'This is as much news to her as it is to any of you, and it is only fair that she should be the first to hear the story. For I won't deny that there is a story. Come to me presently, my child,' he went on, addressing himself to me. 'Come to the library in half an hour's time. You will find me there, and I will tell you all about it.'

"I went to the drawing-room, my aching head almost forgotten. I was, of course, intensely excited; indeed I think I scarcely took in any of the kind things that Lady Ruth and the others said to me that evening; at all events I have hardly any idea what they were, and none at all as to what I answered. My one overmastering desire was to be alone; to have time to think; to realize all that the news meant to me; and after a quarter of an hour had pa.s.sed I made some excuse, and left the room. The nearest way to my bedroom was by a back stair, and to reach it I had to pa.s.s through a pa.s.sage leading to the gun-room. The door of that room was ajar, and as I went by Sir David Southern came out.

"'What have you been doing in there at this time of night?' I asked; and oh, Mr. Gimblet, I was so foolish as to repeat this to the Glasgow detective when he questioned me. To think that my careless words have led them to believe Sir David capable of such a crime! But I had no idea of the meaning they would attach to it. You will understand presently how it was. 'I went to clean my rifle,' he answered, shutting the door behind him. 'I always see to that myself. And where are you off to so fast, Cousin Juliet? That is what you are to me, it appears.' And so we talked: about me, and our newly discovered relationship. I need not repeat all that, need I? And, besides, I do not remember everything we said," added Juliet, flushing.

"After a little while, though, I told him how badly my head ached, and he was very sympathetic about it. 'You ought not to have come down to dinner,' he said, 'the dining-room gets so hot and stuffy; it is a low room, and Uncle Douglas never will have the window open, even on a lovely night like this.' There is a door at the foot of the stairs, opposite the gun-room, and as he spoke he drew back the bolt. 'Come out into the garden for a few minutes,' he said, holding the door open for me to pa.s.s, 'a little fresh air will do you more good than anything.'

"The night was warm, I suppose, for Scotland, but cool enough to seem wonderfully fresh and invigorating after the enclosed air within the house. It was very dark, and the sky was overcast, though just above us a star or two was shining, very large and clear. Otherwise I could hardly distinguish anything at all, except the line, about fifty yards away, where the lawn came to an end, and the ground dipped abruptly down towards the loch, so that the level edge of the gra.s.s showed up against the less opaque darkness of the sky, like a black velvet border to a piece of black silk.

"We stood there a little while, till I remembered I must go to the library. My head was already much better when I turned back into the house; Sir David didn't follow me; he seemed to be staring through the gloom in front of him. 'I am going in,' I said. 'What are you looking at?' 'I thought I saw something move over there on the skyline,' he replied; 'do you see anything?' I looked, but could make out nothing. 'Well,' he said, 'if you are going in, I think I'll just go over and see if there's anyone about; you might leave the door open, will you?'

"And so I left him, and made my way to the library. As I pa.s.sed through the billiard-room, Mr. McConachan, who was knocking the b.a.l.l.s about, asked me if I had seen his cousin, and I told him Sir David was outside on the lawn by the gun-room door.

"Lord Ashiel-my father-was waiting for me, and he came to meet me and kissed me tenderly. We were both very much agitated: I was still feeling the effects of my escape from drowning, and he, poor dear, was weak and ill. In short, neither of us was in a fit state to meet the situation calmly; and, if my tears flowed, they were not the only ones that were shed. For a few moments we cried like babies, in each other's arms, and then I pulled myself together, for I knew how bad it was for his health to get into this nervous state. Mr. Gimblet, I needn't tell you all the conversation that followed between us. He told me that you know the whole story, that you are the one person in the world in whom he had confided; so it is unnecessary for me to repeat what he said of his marriage to my mother, of her death, and of his resolve never willingly to look upon me, the baby who had taken her from him. He told me also of the years that had intervened between that day when he had shuffled off his responsibilities on to Mrs. Meredith, and the day, not long ago, when he at last decided to hunt out his daughter.

"He told me of his fears that she should prove to be none other than Julia Romaninov, and of how, in desperation, he had applied to you for help, and of how you had discovered my existence.

"He said he had never really doubted from the moment he first set eyes on me that I was Juliana's child. But he dared not hint such a thing to me till he was certain, and anxious though he was to see a likeness between me and her, or himself, he had not been able to tell himself, truthfully, that he could really see one, until that day. It was when I was brought home that afternoon, so white and faint, so changed by my pallor from what he chose to describe as my usual gay brilliance, that the resemblance suddenly showed itself. He hardly knew that it was I; it might have been Juliana that they were carrying. He said there could be no doubt that I was her daughter; that he for one, required no further proof; though we should probably get it now it was no longer wanted. Sir Arthur Byrne might be able to suggest some way of tracing things. Not that it mattered, for he could not in any case leave me his t.i.tle, and, on the other hand, he had full control of his money, which would be mine before very long.

"I cried out at that, that he must not say so; that it was not money I wanted, but a father, affection, friendship. He repeated that all the same I should have it in course of time. That it was all settled already. Even before he was certain that I was his own child, he liked me well enough to make up his mind about that. He asked me if I remembered that he had stayed at home the other day while the rest of us were on the hill? He said he had made his will that day, and I was the princ.i.p.al legatee, though he had not alluded to me in it by my own name. But he worded it carefully, so that that should make no difference; and though he believed it was quite clear as it was, he would make it over again, as soon as he could obtain legal proof of my birth.

"I supposed I murmured some sort of thanks for his care of my future, and he went on again, saying that he only wished the t.i.tle could come to me too, when he died; but that it would go to Mark, since the little boy his second wife had given him was dead, and I was a girl.

"He said he was afraid that Mark might be a little disappointed, for, if he hadn't found me, Mark and David would have shared his fortune between them; but they would soon get over it, for they were good lads, especially Mark; and David would have plenty of money through this very satisfactory marriage of his. I couldn't help interrupting that money wasn't everything. I am telling you all these trivial things, Mr. Gimblet, because you said I was to try and remember everything, however unimportant."

"Yes," said Gimblet, "that is what I want. Pray go on."

"He only smiled when I said that," Juliet resumed, "and said that different opinions were held on that subject by different people. Then he went on talking about my future life, and said again how glad he would always be that he had consulted you, and how grateful he was for what you had done for him, and that if any trouble cropped up, I was to be sure and send for you at once. He looked to you to protect my interests, and, if necessary, to avenge his death.

"I couldn't think what he meant, and said so; but he only smiled again and said he hoped there would be no need for it. He said he had some papers he must send to you to take care of, some papers that were rather dangerous to their owner, he was afraid, though at the same time they were a safeguard to him. But he shouldn't like me to have anything to do with them, or the boys either, and he must get them away from Inverashiel as soon as he could. In the meantime they were in a safe place where no one would find them, and he would write to you that night and tell you how to look for them, just on the chance that something should happen before he could send them off. His will was with them, too, for the present, but he would send that up to Findlay & Ince. He wouldn't tell me where the papers were; he didn't want me to have anything to do with these tiresome things.

"He said all this with hesitation; with long pauses between the sentences. It seemed to me that he would have liked to tell me more, and I didn't know what to say. Indeed, he seemed to be talking rather to himself than to me, and I am not sure if he heard me when I said that if he had any anxiety I should like to share it, if it were possible. Presently he seemed to take a sudden resolution. He said that there was no reason, at all events, why he should not explain to me how to find the papers. He had written directions in cipher once before and given you the key, but you had lost it, and might do so again. It would be just as well that I should know about it too, in any case. He had had to think out a new method, and at present it was known to no one except himself, which was perhaps not very wise. However, he would send it to you that night, and would explain it to me at once. But first I must promise him, very faithfully, never to mention it to anyone, whatever happened, not to let anyone, except you, ever guess that there was such a thing in existence.

"I promised solemnly; still he hardly seemed satisfied, and looked at me very searchingly, while he said he wondered if I were old enough to understand the importance of this, and if I realized that I was promising not to tell my nearest or dearest; not my adopted father, Sir Arthur Byrne, nor my lover, if I had one. That it was a matter of life and death, that his life was in danger then, and that I would inherit the risk unless I did as he said.