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

will you?'

 

"And so I left him, and made my way to the library. As I passed through

the billiard-room, Mr. McConachan, who was knocking the balls 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 title, 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 principal

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 title 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.

 

"Rather indignant, though completely mystified, I promised again. He

seemed satisfied, and said he would write the whole thing down for me. He

moved from the hearth, where we had been sitting, to the writing-table,

which stands in the middle of the room, in front of the window. He sat

down at it, and I stood a little behind him, looking on as he took a

sheet of notepaper and turned over the pens in the tray in search of a

pencil. The room was very hot; the tufts of peat smouldering in the

grate, and the two lamps, combined with the fumes of Lord Ashiel's cigar

to render the atmosphere oppressive to a person with a violent headache.

I glanced longingly towards the window. It was not entirely hidden by the

heavy curtains which were drawn across it, for they did not quite meet in

the middle, and I could see perfectly well that the window was shut. For

a moment I hesitated, torn between the desire for fresh air and the fear

that my father might feel too cold. He was terribly chilly. I decided to

ask him, and turned to him again as he took up the pencil and examined

the point critically.

 

"'Would you mind,' I was beginning; but at that instant a loud report

sounded just outside the window. Lord Ashiel fell forward on to the table

with a low cry, his hand clasped to his ribs. 'Oh, what is it?' I cried,

bending over him; 'you are hurt; you are shot! Oh, what shall I do!' He

was making a great effort to speak, I could see that plainly enough; but

no words would come, and he seemed to be choking. At last he managed to

get out a few words. 'Gimblet,' he gasped, 'the clock--eleven--steps--'

and then with a groan his hand dropped from his side, his head rolled

back upon the table, and a silence followed, more horrible to me than

anything that had gone before.

 

"I saw now that his shirt was already soaked with blood; and, as in

terror I called again upon his name, the dreadful truth was borne in upon

me, and I knew that he was dead."

 

Juliet's voice failed her; she spoke the last few words in a quavering

whisper, and if Gimblet had looked at her at that moment he would have

beheld a countenance drawn and distorted by horror.

 

But he was very much occupied, and did not look up. With a notebook open

on his knee, he was busily writing down what she had said.

 

"You are sure of the words?" he asked, as his pencil sped across the

page. "'Gimblet--the clock--eleven--step,' is that it?"

 

His matter-of-fact voice soothed and reassured her. This little

grey-haired man, sitting at her side, was somehow a very comfortable

companion to one whose nerves were badly overwrought. Juliet pulled

herself together.

 

"Steps," she corrected, and her voice sounded almost natural again.

"Not step."

 

"Do you suppose," asked the detective, "that he meant the English word,

steps, or the Russian, steppes?"

 

"I don't know," said Juliet, surprised. "I never thought of it. But, Mr.

Gimblet, I have not told anyone but you that he spoke after he was hit. I

thought perhaps that he might have wished those last words of his to be

kept private."

 

"Quite right," said Gimblet approvingly. "He did right to trust your

discretion. And now, please, go on," he added, putting down his pencil;

"what happened next?"

 

And Juliet answered him in a tone as calm as his own:

 

"I think I must have fainted."

CHAPTER IX

 

"The next thing I remember, was finding myself lying on the floor, and,

when I tried to get up, seeing everything in the room swinging about me

like the swinging boats at a fair. I don't know how long I had been

unconscious, but when,