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SIMON
BY
J. STORER CLOUSTON
AUTHOR OF "THE MAN FROM THE CLOUDS," "THE SPY IN BLACK," "THE LUNATIC AT LARGE," ETC.
NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Solitary Passenger 9 II. The Procurator Fiscal 16 III. The Heir 23 IV. The Man from the West 31 V. The Third Visitor 40 VI. At Night 48 VII. The Drive Home 56 VIII. Sir Reginald 67 IX. A Philosopher 74 X. The Letter 80 XI. News 89 XII. Cicely 100 XIII. The Deductive Process 106 XIV. The Question of Motive 114 XV. Two Women 123 XVI. Rumour 128 XVII. A Suggestion 135 XVIII. L1200 143 XIX. The Empty Compartment 148 XX. The Sporting Visitor 154 XXI. Mr. Carrington's Walk 161 XXII. Mr. Carrington and the Fiscal 168 XXIII. Simon's Views 176 XXIV. Mr. Bisset's Assistant 185 XXV. A Telegram 196 XXVI. At Stanesland 201 XXVII. Flight 209 XXVIII. The Return 216 XXIX. Brother and Sister 224 XXX. A Marked Man 229 XXXI. The Letter Again 240 XXXII. The Sympathetic Stranger 247 XXXIII. The House of Mysteries 253 XXXIV. A Confidential Conversation 261 XXXV. In the Garden 271 XXXVI. The Walking Stick 278 XXXVII. Bisset's Advice 285 XXXVIII. Trapped 291 XXXIX. The Yarn 301 XL. The Last Chapter 312
SIMON
I
THE SOLITARY PASSENGER
The train had come a long journey and the afternoon was wearing on.The passenger in the last third class compartment but one, lookingout of the window sombrely and intently, saw nothing now but desolatebrown hills and a winding lonely river, very northern looking underthe autumnal sky.
He was alone in the carriage, and if any one had happened to study hismovements during the interminable journey, they would have concludedthat for some reason he seemed to have a singularly strong inclinationfor solitude. In fact this was at least the third compartment he hadoccupied, for whenever a fellow traveller entered, he unostentatiouslydescended, and in a moment had slipped, also unostentatiously, into anempty carriage. Finally he had selected one at the extreme end of thetrain, a judicious choice which had ensured privacy for the last coupleof hours.
When the train at length paused in the midst of the moorlands and forsome obscure reason this spot was selected for the examination oftickets, another feature of this traveller's character became apparent.He had no ticket, he confessed, but named the last station as his placeof departure and the next as his destination. Being an entirelyrespectable looking person, his statement was accepted and he slippedthe change for half a crown into his pocket; just as he had done anumber of times previously in the course of his journey. Evidently thepassenger was of an economical as well as of a secretive disposition.
As the light began to fade and the grey sky to change into a deepergrey, and the lighted train to glitter through the darkening moors, andhe could see by his watch that their distant goal was now within anhour's journey, the man showed for the first time signs of a livelierinterest. He peered out keenly into the dusk as though recognising oldlandmarks, and now and then he shifted in his seat restlessly and alittle nervously.
He was a man of middle age or upwards, of middle height, and thickset.Round his neck he wore a muffler, so drawn up as partially to concealthe lower part of his face, and a black felt hat was drawn down overhis eyes. Between them could be seen only the gleam of his eyes, thetip of his nose, and the stiff hairs of a grizzled moustache.
Out of his overcoat pocket he pulled a pipe and for a moment looked atit doubtfully, and then, as if the temptation were irresistible, hetook out a tobacco pouch too. It was almost flat and he jealouslypicked up a shred that fell on the floor, and checked himself at lastwhen the bowl was half filled. And then for a while he smoked veryslowly, savouring each whiff.
When they stopped at the last station or two, the reserved and exclusivedisposition of this traveller became still more apparent. Not only washe so muffled up as to make recognition by an unwelcome acquaintanceexceedingly difficult, but so long as they paused at the stations he satwith his face resting on his hand, and when they moved on again, an airof some relief was apparent.
But a still more remarkable instance of this sensitive passion forprivacy appeared when the train stopped at the ticket platform justoutside its final destination. Even as they were slowing down, he fellon his knees and then stretched himself at full length on the floor, andwhen the door was flung open for an instant, the compartment was to allappearances empty. Only when they were well under way again did thisretiring traveller emerge from beneath the seat.
And when he did emerge, his conduct continued to be of a piece with thiscurious performance. He glanced out of the window for an instant at thelights of the platform ahead, and the groups under them, and the arch ofthe station roof against the night sky, and then swiftly stepped acrossthe carriage and gently opened the door on the wrong side. By the timethe train was fairly at rest, the door had been as quietly closed againand the man was picking his way over the sleepers in the darkness, pastthe guard's van and away from the station and publicity. Certainly hehad succeeded in achieving a singularly economical and private journey.
For a few minutes he continued to walk back along the line, and thenafter a wary look all round him, he sprang up the low bank at the side,threw his leg over a wire fence, and with infinite care began to makehis way across a stubble field. As he approached the wall on the furtherside of the field his precautions increased. He listened intently,crouched down once or twice, and when at last he reached the wall, hepeered over it very carefully before he mounted and dropped on the otherside.
"Well," he murmured, "I'm here, by God, at last!"
He was standing now in a road on the outskirts of the town. On the onehand it led into a dim expanse of darkened country; on the other thelights of the town twinkled. Across the road, a few villas stood backamidst trees, with gates opening on to a footpath, the outlying housesof the town; and the first lamp-post stood a little way down this path.The man crossed the road and turned townwards, walking slowly andapparently at his ease. What seemed to interest him now was not his ownneed for privacy but the houses and gates he was passing. At one opengate in particular he half paused and then seemed to spy somethi
ng aheadthat altered his plans. Under a lamp-post a figure appeared to belingering, and at the sight of this, the man drew his hat still moreclosely over his face and moved on.
As he drew near the lamp the forms of two youths became manifest,apparently loitering there idly. The man kept his eyes on the ground,passed them at a brisk walk and went on his way into the town.
"Damn them!" he muttered.
This incident seemed to have deranged his plans a little for hismovements during the next half hour were so purposeless as to suggestthat he was merely putting in time. Down one street and up another hewalked, increasing his pace when he had to pass any fellow walkers, andthen again falling slow at certain corners and looking round himcuriously as though those dark lanes and half-lit streets werereminiscent.
Even seen in the light of the infrequent lamps and the rays from thinlyblinded windows, it was evidently but a small country town of a hard,grey stone, northern type. The ends of certain lanes seemed to open intothe empty country itself, and one could hear the regular cadence ofwaves hard by upon a shore.
"It doesn't seem to have changed much," said the man to himself.
He worked his way round, like one quite familiar with the route hefollowed, till at length he drew near the same quiet country road whencehe had started. This time he stopped for a few minutes in the thickestshadow and scanned each dim circle of radiance ahead. Nobody seemed nowto be within the rays of the lamps or to be moving in the darknessbetween. He went on warily till he had come nearly to the same open gatewhere he had paused before, and then there fell upon his ears the soundof steps behind him and he stopped again and looked sharply over hisshoulder.
Somebody was following, but at a little distance off, and afterhesitating for an instant, he seemed to make up his mind to risk it, andturned swiftly and stealthily through the gates. A short drive of somepretentions ran between trees and then curved round towards the house,but there was no lodge or any sign of a possible watcher, and the manadvanced for a few yards swiftly and confidently enough. And then hestopped abruptly. Under the shade of the trees the drive ahead was pitchdark, but footsteps and voices were certainly coming from the house. Inan instant he had vanished into the belt of plantation along one side ofthe drive.
The footsteps and voices ceased, and then the steps began again, timidlyat first and then hurriedly. The belt of shrubs and trees was just thickenough to hide a man perfectly on a moonless cloudy night like this. Yeton either side the watcher could see enough of what was beyond to notethat he stood between the dark drive on one hand and a lighter space ofopen garden on the other, and he could even catch a glimpse of thehouse against the sky. Light shone brightly from the fanlight over thefront door, and less distinctly from one window upstairs and through theslats of a blind in a downstairs room. For a moment he looked in thatdirection and then intently watched the drive.
The footsteps by this time were almost on the run. The vague forms oftwo women passed swiftly and he could see their faces dimly turnedtowards him as they hurried by. They passed through the gates and weregone, and then a minute later men's voices in the road cried out agreeting. And after that the silence fell profound.
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