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

the

bay showed him that the water was falling, for in quiet little pools,

within the outer breakwater of rocks, a damp line showed on the granite

a full quarter of an inch above the water. By a rapid calculation of the

time it would take for that watermark to dry, the detective was able to

form some idea of the rate at which the loch was falling, and he thought

he could judge the slope of the beach sufficiently well to calculate

about how long it was since the track in the sand had reached to the

brink of the waves.

 

It was a rough guess, but, if he were right, then a boat had landed in

that bay some forty-two hours ago. But there were other traces, besides,

the tracks of him who had brought the boat ashore. From where Gimblet

stood, a double row of footprints, going and returning, showed plainly

between the water and the stones to which the sand quickly gave place.

They were the tracks left by large boots with singularly pointed toes,

and with no nails on the soles. Emphatically not boots such as any of the

men of those parts would be likely to wear.

 

Gimblet bent over the sand.

 

When he rose once more and stood erect upon the beach, he saw under the

shadow of the pines the figure of a tall thin man with a lean face and

straggling reddish moustache, who was watching him with an eye plainly

suspicious. He was dressed in knickerbockers and coat of rough tweed of a

large checked pattern, and carried a spy-glass slung over his back. The

detective went to him at once.

 

"Are you employed on the Inverashiel estate?" he asked civilly.

 

"I'm Duncan McGregor, his lordship's head keeper," was the reply, given

in the cold tones of one accosted by an intruder.

 

Gimblet hastened to introduce himself and to explain his presence, and

McGregor condescended to thaw.

 

"I should be very much obliged," said Gimblet, "if you would take a look

at the sands where you saw me standing. I'd like to know your opinion on

some marks that are there."

 

The keeper strode down to the beach.

 

"A boat will have been here," he pronounced after a rapid scrutiny.

 

"Lately?" asked Gimblet.

 

He saw the man's eyes go, as his own had done, to the watermarks on

the rocks.

 

"No sae vary long ago," he said, "I'm thinkin' it will hae been the nicht

before lairst that she came here."

 

"Ah," said Gimblet, "I'm glad you agree with me. That's what I thought

myself. Do boats often come ashore on this beach?"

 

McGregor considered.

 

"It's the first time I ever h'ard of onybody doin' the like," he said at

last. "The landin' stage is awa' at the ether side o' the p'int; it's aye

there they land. There's nae a man in a' this glen would come in here,

unless it whar for some special reason. It's no' a vary grand place tae

bring a boat in. The rocks are narrow at the mouth."

 

"Do strangers often come to these parts?"

 

"There are no strangers come to Inverashiel," said the keeper. "The

high road runs at the ether side o' the loch through Crianan, and the

tramps and motors go over it, but never hae I known one o' that kind on

our shore."

 

Gimblet observed with some amusement that the man spoke of motors and

tramps as of varieties of the same breed; but all he said was:

 

"Could you make inquiries as to whether anyone on the estate happens to

have brought a boat in here during the last week? I should be glad if you

could do so without mentioning my name, or letting anyone think it is

important."

 

He felt he could trust the discretion of this taciturn Highlander.

 

"I'll that, sir," was the reply.

 

And Gimblet could see, in spite of the man's unchanging countenance, that

he was pleased at this mark of confidence in him.

 

"Could you take me to the head gardener's house?" he asked, abruptly

changing the subject. "I should rather like a talk with him."

 

McGregor conducted him down the road to the lodge.

 

"It's in here whar Angus Malcolm lives," he remarked laconically. "Good

evening, sir."

 

He turned and strode away over the hillside, and Gimblet knocked at the

door. It was opened by the gardener, and he had a glimpse through the

open doorway of a family at tea.

 

"I'm sorry I disturbed you," he said. "I will look in again another day.

Lord Ashiel referred me to you for the name of a rose I asked about, but

it will do to-morrow."

 

The gardener assured him that his tea could wait, but Gimblet would not

detain him.

 

"I shall no doubt see you up in the garden to-morrow," he said. "The roses

in that long bed outside the library are very fine, and I am interested

in their culture. I wonder they do so well in this peaty soil."

 

"Na fie, man, they get on splendid here," said Malcolm. He liked nothing

better than to talk about his flowers, but, being a Highlander, resented

any suggestion that his native earth was not the best possible for no

matter what purpose. "We just gie them a good dressin' doon wie manure

ilka year."

 

"Do you use any patent fertilizer?" Gimblet asked.

 

"Oh, just a clean oot wie a grain o' basic slag noo and than," said the

gardener. "And I just gie them some lime ilka time I think the ground is

needin' it."

 

"Well, the result is very good," said the detective. "By the way, have

you been working on that bed lately? I picked this up among the violas.

Did you happen to drop it?"

 

He took from his pocket a small paper notebook, and held it out

interrogatively.

 

"Na, I hinna dropped it," answered the gardener. "It micht have been some

one fay the castel. I hinna been near that rose-bed for fower or five

days. And it couldna hae been lying there afore the rain."

 

Indeed, the little book showed no trace of damp on its green cover.

 

"I asked in the castle, but no one claimed it," said Gimblet. "Perhaps

it belongs to one of your men?"

 

"There's been naebody been workin' there this week. So it disna belong

tae neen o' the gair'ners, if it's there ye fund't," repeated Malcolm.

"There's been nae work deen on that bed for the last fortnicht or mair. I

was thinkin' o' sendin' a loon ower't wie a hoe in a day or twa. Ye see,

wie the murrder it's been impossible tae get ony work done; apairt fay

that we've been busy wie the fruit and ether things."

 

"I didn't notice any weeds," said Gimblet. "But I won't keep you any

longer, now. Perhaps to-morrow afternoon I may see you in the garden, and

if so I shall get you to tell me the name of that rose."

CHAPTER XII

 

Juliet failed to extract much comfort from Gimblet when, about six

o'clock, she met him coming up through the garden to Inverashiel Cottage.

 

All the afternoon she had possessed her soul in what patience she could

muster, which was not a great deal. Still, by dint of repeating to

herself that she must give the detective time to study the facts, and

opportunity to verify them at his leisure and in his own way, she had

managed to get through the long inactive hours, and to force herself not

to dwell upon the vision of David in prison, which, do as she would, was

ever before her eyes.

 

Events had followed one another so fast during the last few days that her

mind was dulled, as by a succession of rapid blows, and she was hardly

conscious of anything beyond the unbearable pain caused by the cumulative

shocks she had undergone.

 

First had come the heart-rending knowledge that David loved her;

heart-rending only because he was bound to Miss Tarver, for, if it had

not been for that paralyzing obstacle, she knew she would have gladly

followed him to the ends of the earth. Indeed, in spite of everything,

his betrayal of his feelings towards her had filled her with a joy that

almost counterbalanced the hopeless misery to which, on her more

completely realizing the situation, it gradually gave place.

 

Then had come the swift physical disaster from which she had barely

escaped with her life. She had not had time to recover from this when, a

few hours later, she had been called upon to face the emotions and

agitations aroused by the news of her relationship to Lord Ashiel, and

the history of her birth and parentage. In the midst of this excitement

had come the sudden tragedy of which she had been a witness, and which

had overwhelmed and prostrated her with grief and horror. Next day she

had been obliged to undergo the ordeal of being cross-questioned by the

police, and close upon that had come the final catastrophe of David's

arrest and departure. This last shock so overshadowed all the rest of her

misfortunes that it stimulated her to action, and she had herself run

most of the way to the post office two miles down the road, to send the

telegram of appeal to Gimblet.

 

Once that was dispatched, hope revived a little in her heart.

 

Lord Ashiel, her father, had told her to send for the detective if she

were in trouble. Well, she was in trouble; she had sent for him; he would

come, and somehow he would find a way of putting straight this hideous

nightmare in which she found herself living. How happy, in comparison,

had been her life in Belgium, in the household of her adopted father and

stepmother! She could have found it in her heart to wish she had never

left their roof; but that would have involved never making the

acquaintance of David, a possibility she could not contemplate.

 

Even now the remembrance of the rapidity with which Miss Tarver had

packed her traps, renounced her betrothed and all his works, and fled

from the scene of disaster by the first available train, did much to

cheer her in the midst of all her depression.

 

It was not, however, until some time after Lady Ruth Worsfold had asked

her to stay with her for the present, and she had removed herself and her

belongings to the cottage, that she realized how impossible it was for

her to make good her position as Lord Ashler's daughter and heir. She had

his word for it, and that was enough for her; but she understood, as soon

as it occurred to her, that more would be required by the law before she

could claim either the name or the inheritance which should be hers.

 

In the meantime, though touched by the generosity of the new Lord Ashiel,

who offered to waive his rights in her favour, and indeed suggested other

plans for enabling her to remain at the castle as its owner, she felt

that what he proposed was absolutely impossible, and while she thanked

him, declined firmly to do anything of the sort.

 

At the back of her mind was the conviction that the will her father had

spoken of would come to light. It would surely be found, if not by

herself, then by Gimblet. She acceded to Mark's request that she should

join him in looking through his uncle's papers. They went over those in

the library together before she left the house.

 

Now that Gimblet had come back from the castle, where he had spent half

the day, he must have good news for her, she felt persuaded. But to all

her questions he would only reply that he had nothing definite to tell

her, and that she must wait till to-morrow or even longer. Indeed, she

thought he seemed anxious to get away from her, and asked at once if he

might see his room.

 

"I want a bath more than anything," he said. And then, taking pity on her

distress, "I wouldn't worry myself too much about Sir David's safety if I

were you," he added, looking at her with a