The Ashiel Mystery by Mrs. Charles Bryce (mini ebook reader TXT) 📕

Inverashiel.

 

One of the deck hands dumped his luggage out on to the side of the loch

and the boat moved on again.

 

A track led across the moor, and down it Gimblet saw a farm cart

advancing, driven by a man who shouted as he approached:

 

"The young leddy's comin' doon tae meet ye, sir."

 

And behind him, on the near skyline, the detective beheld the hurrying

figure of a girl.

 

Leaving the man with the cart to grapple with his luggage, which was not

of large dimensions, Gimblet walked to meet Juliet. As they drew near,

she stopped and held out her hand.

 

"Mr. Gimblet?" she asked.

 

"Yes," he said; "and you are Miss Byrne, are you not?"

 

He looked at her keenly as he spoke, noticing that her eyes were red and

swollen, and that her whole bearing was eloquent of sorrow and want of

sleep. She lifted a miserable face to him.

 

"Yes," she said. "I am so glad you have come, but it has seemed a long

while. I suppose you couldn't get here before. Do you know all that has

happened?"

 

"I know that Lord Ashiel is dead," said the detective. "Hardly more

than that. Will you tell me all there is to tell before we go up to

the castle?"

 

"I have left the castle, and am staying with Lady Ruth Worsfold, whose

house you can just see through the trees," she said. "Will you come there

first, or shall we go straight to the castle. It is about a mile through

the woods."

 

"Let us walk straight up," said Gimblet. "You can tell me as we go. I

have, as you say, been a long while getting here, but it is fortunate

that the day is fine. I hope it has not rained during the last

thirty-six hours?"

 

"I don't know," said the girl. "No; I believe it has been fine. But I

haven't taken much notice what the weather has been like." She was

disappointed and indignant that he should talk in this trivial strain,

when her own heart was nearly bursting, and her every nerve stretched and

tingling. She had pinned all her hopes on the arrival of the famous

detective.

 

Gimblet heard the change in her tone.

 

"You think I am talking platitudes 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 butts 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 butt, 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 butt. 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 butt.

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 butts, 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