“There were five cars and they all used my car park,” he said. “Oh, and two men tipped me. I suppose I may keep the five shillings?”
“I should think you’ve earned it,” said Gavin. “Are you tired?”
“Oh, no, but I’m hungry. I didn’t have time for much tea, and I don’t think Mrs. Dame had any.”
On the following day Laura took him for a walk to see whether they could find anywhere to swim. There was a large lake on the other side of the hill, but it was surrounded by reed beds of such density that Hamish became discouraged, and suggested that they turn back and go for a drive in the car. Left to herself, Laura would have gone on, but she gave in gracefully and they returned to the castle.
During the walk Hamish had given her a detailed account of the visitors of the day before. Laura had listened appreciatively. There was one remark of his which had impressed her, however. When he had described the first party who had turned up, he had mentioned the gentleman’s satirical enquiry about the house being haunted.
“I told him I was going to do some research, and then one of the ladies said it wouldn’t be the house that was haunted. I wonder what she meant?” he had said. Laura had replied lightly that she supposed the woman found it more romantic to believe that the castle, rather than the house, had the reputation for having a ghost, and then they spotted some wild duck flying over the water and the conversation took a different turn.
On the way back, however, Hamish suddenly said,
“You know, mamma, it was, now I come to think it over, rather peculiar yesterday.”
“About the ghost?” asked Laura, on whom his report of the woman’s remark had made more impression than she had allowed him to realise. “I don’t see anything peculiar in people wanting to know whether an old building is haunted. Some just do it for a leg-pull.”
“Yes, I know. That’s what the man was doing—trying to pull my leg. But that wasn’t the only thing.”
“Oh?”
“No. I followed up another party—they were rather loud-voiced and sort of jolly, I suppose. They brought sausages and crisps, and beer in tins, and sat on the step of their car to have their tea, and left greasy paper bags and the beer tins about in the courtyard. I couldn’t very well say anything, of course, so I just cleared it all up, but I thought they looked the kind of people who might carve their names on things, so I followed them about, and when they were standing looking at the flanking towers, one of them asked me where it was that it happened. I begged her pardon and she just laughed and said to think nothing of it. I was quite pleased when they went, because I don’t think they really appreciated anything they saw. When I suggested that they might like to buy one of the souvenirs they laughed, and the man said not unless I could guarantee that it came off the right tower. Rather mysterious, don’t you think, mamma?”
“They sound the sort of people who hope somebody was murdered in the castle—Princes in the Tower sort of stuff,” said Laura. “On Saturday your father and I will take over, and then you and I can compare notes afterwards.”
She reported the conversation to Gavin and Dame Beatrice after dinner that night, and added that she wondered whether it was a good idea to allow Hamish to be in charge of the visitors. When Saturday came, however, her son begged so hard to be allowed to keep the gate again that his father gave permission, and elected, to Laura’s relief, to stay with him; so Gavin and Hamish remained on duty at the castle and Laura and Dame Beatrice drove to the nearest seaside place, some forty miles away, for Laura to test the opportunities for bathing.
They used Gavin’s car and Laura drove, for Dame Beatrice had sent back her own car and her chauffeur George, the car to be garaged and George to take a fortnight’s leave. He was then to place himself at the disposal of Dame Beatrice’s usual stand-in at her London clinic until Gavin’s leave expired and he and his car were obliged to return to London.
The bathing facilities proved to be adequate. Laura went for a swim, she and Dame Beatrice had tea at an hotel and they returned to the castle for a rather late dinner to learn that a motor-coach load had turned up and had been admitted to the house in parties of six organised by Gavin and the driver.
“Thirty-six of them,” said Hamish exultantly, “and I sold three souvenirs at sixpence each, but I couldn’t charge them for parking, because the motor-coach was a bit too wide to go through the gatehouse archway.”
“Any funny questions?” asked Laura, when she was alone with her husband, Hamish having gone to bed and Dame Beatrice having removed herself to her own room so that the couple (who, in her opinion, were able to see all too little of one another) could be together without a third party being present.
“Funny questions? Oh, you mean of the ghoulish sort? One or two of the coach party asked me whether there were any bloodstains to be seen. I told them their guess was as good as mine, so they rushed off, in a hopeful spirit, to look for them. I don’t know whether all custodians of ancient monuments are asked these idiotic questions, or whether we’re specially favoured. The coach party was followed up by a female who arrived on a motor-scooter and, upon being shown over the house by me while Hamish was having his tea, asked me whether I was psychic.”
“What did you say?”
“I said not so that she’d notice, to which she responded ‘Pity, pity,’ and we left it at that.”
“Do you think the castle has got a sinister reputation?”
“Well, if it has, and it brings the customers along, all the better, say I.”
“So long as Hamish doesn’t get ideas in his head!”
“The only ideas Hamish has in his head at present are that we took four pounds fourteen and six today, and that he must try to hit upon some extra wheezes with which to fleece the general public. I’ve promised to do some pencil sketches for him to sell.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The Boatmen
“For the wee worms are my bedfellows
An’ cauld clay is my sheets…”
Proud Lady Margaret
The Open Afternoons, as Laura termed them, soon established a pattern. On Wednesdays came the small parties of what might be called the private visitors to the castle, and on Saturdays, in addition to these, came the motor-coach trippers, surprisingly well-behaved if not always particularly litter-conscious.
After the first Wednesday and Saturday it became Dame Beatrice’s practice to give the servants the afternoon and evening off. A substantial lunch served to the tenants at midday was followed by a cold-snack self-service supper, and the servants were expected to be back before half-past ten. It was nearly four miles to the nearest bus stop and it became Gavin’s humane and kindly practice to load up his car with cook, parlourmaid, and housemaid and transport them thither, returning to meet them when they alighted at night from the ten o’clock bus. This concession had the double advantage of pleasing the servants and also of insuring that they returned at the agreed time.
The gardener, a single man, lodged at the home farm on the south side of the hill, and the kitchenmaid preferred a chair, a love-story, and a bag of sweets to other, more active pleasures. As, for the rest of the week, she seemed to be on her feet from morning to night—for she was an extremely willing girl—Dame Beatrice commended her prudence in taking her weight off them when she could.
On the last Wednesday of Gavin’s leave—he was due to return to duty on the following Monday—he had promised to take his son sea-fishing from a boat. Hamish, with thoughts of catching a shark, was in high excitement, and, having taken the maids to the bus stop, father and son drove on, instead of returning to the castle.
Left alone, except for the kitchenmaid washing up the dishes used at lunch, Laura and Dame Beatrice put out small table, chair, large pudding basin, Visitors’ Book, roll of tickets, and half-a-dozen attractive little pencil sketches done by Gavin at his son’s behest, and Laura was preparing to seat herself at the receipt of custom when Dame Beatrice remarked,
“It is a parti
cularly fine afternoon. Why do you not go off and enjoy yourself? We need not expect an overwhelming number of visitors, I think. Wednesdays are never very busy, and three rooms take but little time to show. I can easily manage by myself.”
“Well, so can I, then. You go off and enjoy yourself.”
“I am not as fond of walking as you are, and I have letters to write. Take your tea and a book. It would be a pity to waste such a lovely afternoon.”
Allowing herself to be persuaded, Laura agreed to take what she protested would be only a short walk. She went northwards of the castle by a woodland path which ran uphill for a mile or so and then dropped gently down through more woods to the considerable lake which she had previously visited with Hamish.
There was no well-defined path round the lake, but a narrow track had been trodden here and there, probably by boys bent on exploration, Laura thought. She had the lake to herself, so far as she could see, but this was not very far, as silver birches and the tall, thick reed-beds screened a good deal of the view. The reeds, in fact, had provided a major disappointment, for when, accompanied by Hamish, she had looked for a possible bathing-place, the reeds, so far as she had been able to ascertain, were as impenetrable as a jungle. Now that she was alone she proposed to circumnavigate the whole of the lake to look for a spot where it might be possible to enter the water.
In addition to a small haversack which contained food and a paperback detective story, Laura had slung binoculars over her shoulder and from time to time she stopped and, through them, studied the lake and the surrounding countryside. Suddenly, from what appeared to be the broadest part of the reed-bed, out came a boat containing two men. They were readily distinguishable through the glasses. Laura watched them for a short while and then walked on. Where a boat could gain access to the water, so could she, she concluded, and, the trodden way becoming a little better defined, she mended her pace and walked briskly.
By this time she was well beyond the point at which she and Hamish had given up the quest for a bathing-place. For the next ten minutes trees hid the boat from view, but, when she came to the end of the lakeside covert, which here included a close-set belt of silver birches, she discovered how the boatmen had contrived to be where they were. A deep, slow-moving stream, which apparently fed the lake, flowed directly across her path and there was no bridge.
“Good enough,” thought Laura, halting on the bank. “I’ll swim here tomorrow.” She unhitched the field-glasses and the haversack and seated herself. The bank was grassy and shelved gently down to the river, a pleasant spot for a picnic. Laura took her time. There were still hours of daylight to come and the weather was warm and pleasant.
When she had eaten the food, read a couple of chapters, and finished the tea in the thermos flask, she decided that, as she could not complete her tour of the lake, she might as well explore the bank of the stream. After a skirmish with gorse and brambles, she found a path. It meandered with the windings of the river, and, after twenty minutes of walking, Laura rounded a bend and found herself in view of a landing-stage on the opposite bank. Behind the landing-stage a short, broad staithe had been cut and at the farther end of the staithe was a small boathouse containing a roomy dinghy with an outboard motor, a punt, a skiff, and a canoe. Beyond the boathouse, and to the right of it, Laura could see a fairly large chalet-type house.
As she looked at it, a woman came out, walked as far as the head of the staithe, and threw some water from a bucket into the river. She did not appear to notice Laura, but shaded her eyes and gazed downstream before she returned to the house. Laura thought that something about her was familiar, and that she might be Mrs. Dysey. She continued her walk, enjoying the air, the sunshine, and the river scenery, until she decided that, as it was well over an hour since she had had her picnic, it was time that she went back to help cope with the visitors to the castle.
She had retraced her steps to within a hundred yards of where the stream joined the lake when she heard the sound of oars. The boatmen were returning. Round the bend they came, and she stood still to watch them go by. Instead of that, however, they pulled in to the bank and the older of the two, a man in his sixties, Laura thought, caught at an overhanging branch to stay the progress of the boat. As it was obvious that his intention was to speak to her, Laura waited politely.
“What are you doing here, madam?” he demanded.
“I am out for a walk,” replied Laura, considerably surprised at the question and nettled by the tone in which it had been couched.
“Don’t you realise that you’re trespassing?”
“No, I certainly had no idea that I was.”
“Well, you are. These banks are private property.”
“I apologise, if that is so, but I’ve seen no indication of anything of the sort.”
“We shall have to put up notices. Have you done any damage?”
“Certainly not.”
“Left any litter about?”
“Look here,” said Laura, “I’ve apologised for trespassing, and now I shall be very much obliged if you will either alter your tone or allow me to conclude this conversation and go on my way.”
The younger man spoke for the first time.
“You mustn’t mind him,” he said. “His bark is much worse than his bite. Besides, he’s a bit cross because he hasn’t caught anything. Now, look,” he added to the older man, “you can see the lady’s harmless, Uncle. You’ve had your say. Bid her good-bye nicely and let her get back home.”
“Where is your home?” demanded the older man. “Look here, if you’ll promise not to spread it abroad, you can come along here if you like, but I can’t have every Tom, Dick, and Harry milling around. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly,” said Laura, her annoyance giving way to a feeling of amusement. “Thank you for the permission. I had really come along this afternoon to find out whether it was possible to get into the lake for a swim.”
“Swim in the lake! Good God, young woman, it’s a great deal colder than Dante’s Hell.”
“I’ve swum in Lake Ullswater at this time of year.”
“Oh, well, it’ll be your funeral, nobody else’s!”
“I may, then?”
“On your own head be it! I fell in once, out of a canoe, and I assure you it’s not an experience I care to repeat. Where did you say you came from?”
“I didn’t say, but actually I’m staying at Dysey Castle.”
“Staying at Dysey Castle? Good God, what next?”
“We’ve rented it for three months. It was advertised. Why, what’s the matter with it?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing! What should be the matter with it?”
“Dysey by name and dicey by nature, that castle,” put in the younger man. “So Auntie Etta has managed to let it all right? I suppose people’s memories are short, or else ghouls and vampires have become the tenants. Are you a ghoul?” He smiled as he asked the question.
“No, I don’t think so,” Laura replied. She laughed, but somewhat unconvincingly, she felt. She disliked the persistent suggestion that there was something sinister about the castle.
“Well, we must be getting along. If you catch pneumonia in that lake, don’t you blame me. Damn’ foolish gals will do damn’ foolish things. Good afternoon to you,” said the older man, letting go of the branch he was holding.
He sounded almost genial. The younger man pushed off from the bank. Laura watched the boat until it reached the bend, then she waved a cheerful hand and gained the lakeside. It seemed quite a long way home, but that was because she wanted to tell her employer about the mysterious references to the castle. She had not liked to ask the boatmen for an explanation, but their remarks tied in unpleasantly with the questions which had been asked by some of the Wednesday and Saturday visitors, she felt.
She returned to the castle to find Dame Beatrice seated placidly at the table in front of the gatehouse archway. A small pile of stamped and addressed envelopes was beside the pudding-basin, in whic
h reposed two half-crowns.
“You don’t seem to have had many visitors,” Laura remarked. “I’ll make you some tea.” She did this, and then brought out another chair and seated herself by the side of her employer. “I’ve met our nearest neighbours, apart from the people at the home farm.” She described the encounter with the two boatmen. “It does seem as though there’s some mystery attached to this place,” she added, in conclusion.
“Not a true mystery; merely an unexplained death,” said Dame Beatrice.
“How do you know?”
“I asked. My visitors this afternoon were two young men who came on motor-cycles. I showed them the three rooms in the house and then suggested that they should explore the walls and the keep for themselves. One of them asked me whether I did not feel nervous at being alone in such a place. I explained that I was not alone, and enquired their reason for thinking that I might be nervous. It transpired that there has been an unexplained death—possibly a murder—here.”
“Good gracious me! How long ago?”
“The summer before last. It seems that there was reason to suspect foul play, but that nothing has ever come of the enquiry which the County Police conducted.”
“They should have called in Scotland Yard.”
“I suppose there was not enough to go on. Although the circumstances were suspicious, the death could have been accidental. The body was found at the foot of a flanking tower, but the young men did not know which, and betrayed disappointment at my equal lack of knowledge. They seemed to think that I should have pressed Mrs. Dysey for details. They were oblivious of the fact that, as I had heard nothing about the death, I was hardly to be blamed for not having put their questions to her.”
“Wonder whether Gavin knows anything about it? It’s rather a habit of his, when he’s on leave and we’re away, to make friends with the local inspector or superintendent. If he’s done that this time, I should think they’re bound to have told him about this place. Of course, he wouldn’t mention it to me. He’s still under the impression that I need to be shielded from the baser facts of life. Anyway, I bet that if he has made himself known to the local police, he’s got the whole story from them.”
The Croaking Raven Page 3
