Simon

by J. Storer Clouston

  XXXI

  THE LETTER AGAIN

  On the morning after Sir Malcolm's fleeting visit to the Kings Arms, themanageress was informed by her friend Mr. Carrington that he would likea car immediately after breakfast.

  "I really must be a little more energetic, or I'll never find anythingto suit me," he smiled in his most leisurely manner. "I am thinking ofrunning out to Keldale to have another look at the place. It might beworth taking if they'd let it."

  "But you've been to Keldale already, Mr. Carrington!" said MissPeterkin. "I wonder you don't have a look at one of the other places."

  "I'm one of those fellows who make up their minds slowly," he explained."But when we cautious fellows do make up our minds, well, somethinggenerally happens!"

  Circumstances, however, prevented this enthusiastic sportsman frommaking any further enquiry as to the letting of the Keldale shootings.When Bisset appeared at the front door consternation was in his face. Itwas veiled under a restrained professional manner, but not sufficientlyto escape his visitor's eye.

  "What's up?" he asked at once.

  Bisset looked for a moment into his sympathetic face, and then in gravewhisper said:

  "Step in, sir, and I'll tell ye."

  He led him into a small morning room, carefully closed the door, andannounced,

  "Miss Farmond has gone, sir!"

  "Gone. When and how?"

  "Run away, sir, on her bicycle yesterday afternoon and deil a sign ofher since!"

  "Any luggage?"

  "Just a wee suit case."

  "No message left, or anything of that kind?"

  "Not a word or a line, sir."

  "The devil!" murmured Carrington.

  "That's just exac'ly it, sir!"

  "No known cause? No difficulty with Lady Cromarty or anything?"

  "Nothing that's come to my ears, sir."

  Carrington stared blankly into space and remained silent for severalminutes. Bisset watched his assistant with growing anxiety.

  "Surely, sir," he burst forth at last, "you're not thinking this goes toindicate any deductions or datas showing she's guilty?"

  "I'm dashed if I know what to think," murmured Carrington still lost inthought.

  Suddenly he turned his eyeglass on the other.

  "By Jove!" he exclaimed, "the day before yesterday I passed that girlriding on a bicycle towards Keldale House after dark! Do you know whereshe had been?"

  "Into the town, sir. I knew she was out, of course, and she justmentioned afterwards where she had been."

  "Have you any idea whom she saw or what she did?"

  Bisset shook his head.

  "I have no datas, sir, that's the plain fac'."

  "But you can't think of any likely errand to take her in so late in theafternoon?"

  "No, sir. In fact, I mind thinking it was funny like her riding aboutalone in the dark like yon, for she's feared of being out by hersel' inthe dark; I know that."

  Carrington reflected for a few moments longer and then seemed to dismissthe subject.

  "By the way," he asked, "can you remember if, by any chance, SirReginald had any difficulty or trouble or row of any kind with anyonewhatever during, say, the month previous to his death? I mean with anyof the tenants, or his tradesmen--or his lawyer? Take your time andthink carefully."

  * * * * *

  Carrington dismissed his car at Mr. Rattar's office. When he was showninto the lawyer's room, he exhibited a greater air of keenness thanusual.

  "Well, Mr. Rattar," said he, "you'll be interested to hear that I've gotrather a new point of view with regard to this case."

  "Indeed?" said Simon, and his lips twitched a little as he spoke. Therewas no doubt that he was not looking so well as usual. His face hadseemed drawn and worried last time Carrington had seen him; now itmight almost be termed haggard.

  "I find," continued Carrington, "that Sir Reginald displayed a curiousand unaccountable irritability before his death. I hear, for instance,that a letter from you had upset him quite unduly."

  Carrington paused for an instant, and his monocle was full on Simon allthe time, and yet he did not seem to notice the very slight but distinctstart which the lawyer gave, for he continued with exactly the sameconfidential air.

  "These seem to me very suggestive symptoms, Mr. Rattar, and I amwondering very seriously whether the true solution of his mysteriousdeath is not--" he paused for an instant and then in a low and earnestvoice said, "suicide!"

  There was no mistake about the lawyer's start this time, or about thecurious fact that the strain seemed suddenly to relax, and a look ofrelief to take its place. And yet Carrington seemed quite oblivious toanything beyond his own striking new theory.

  "That's rather a suggestive idea, isn't it?" said he.

  "Very!" replied Simon with the air of one listening to a revelation.

  "How he managed to inflict precisely those injuries on himself is atpresent a little obscure," continued Carrington, "but no doubt a reallyexpert medical opinion will be able to suggest an explanation. Thetheory fits all the other facts remarkably, doesn't it?"

  "Remarkably," agreed Simon.

  "This letter of yours, for instance, was a very ordinary businesscommunication, I understand."

  "Very ordinary," said Simon.

  "Of course, you have a copy of it in your letter book--and also SirReginald's reply?"

  There was a moment's pause and then Simon's grunt seemed to be forcedout of himself. But he followed the grunt with a more assured,"Certainly."

  "May I see them?"

  "You--you think they are important?"

  "As bearing on Sir Reginald's state of mind only."

  Simon rang his bell and ordered the letter book to be brought in. WhileCarrington was examining it, his eyes never left his visitor's face, butthey would have had to be singularly penetrating to discover a trace ofany emotion there. Throughout his inspection, Carrington's air remainedas imperturbable as though he were reading the morning paper.

  "According to these letters," he observed, "there seems to have been atrifling but rather curious misunderstanding. In accordance with writteninstructions of a fortnight previously, you had arranged to let acertain farm to a certain man, and Sir Reginald then complained that youhad overlooked a conversation between those dates in which he hadcancelled these instructions. He writes with a warmth that clearlyindicates his own impression that this conversation had been perfectlyexplicit and that your forgetfulness or neglect of it was unaccountable,and he proposes to go into this and one or two other matters in thecourse of a conversation with you which should have taken place thatafternoon. You then reply that you are too busy to come out so soon, butwill call on the following morning. In the meantime Sir Reginald ismurdered, and so the conversation never takes place and no explanationpasses between you. Those are the facts, aren't they?"

  He looked up from the letter book as he spoke and there was no doubt henoticed something now. Indeed, the haggard look on Simon's face and abead of perspiration on his forehead were so striking, and so singularin the case of such a tough customer, that the least observant--or themost circumspect--must have stared. Carrington's stare lasted only forthe fraction of a second, and then he was polishing his eyeglass withhis handkerchief in the most indifferent way.

  A second or two passed before Simon answered, and then he said abruptly:

  "Sir Reginald was mistaken. No such conversation."

  "Do you mean to tell me literally that _no_ such conversation tookplace? Was it a mere delusion?"

  "Er--practically. Yes, a delusion."

  "Suicide!" declared Carrington with an air of profound conviction."Yes, Mr. Rattar, that is evidently the solution. The unfortunate manhad clearly not been himself, probably for some little time previously.Well, I'll make a few more enquiries, but I fancy my work is nearly atan end. Good-morning."

  He rose and was half way across the room, when he stopped and asked, asif the idea had suddenly o
ccurred to him:

  "By the way, I hear that Miss Farmond was in seeing you a couple of daysago."

  Again Simon seemed to start a little, and again he hesitated for aninstant and then replied with a grunt.

  "Had she any news?" asked the other.

  Simon grunted again and shook his head, and Carrington threw him afriendly nod and went out.

  He maintained the same air till he had turned down a bye street and wasalone, and only then he gave vent to his feelings.

  "I'm dashed!" he muttered, "absolutely jiggered!"

  All the while he shook his head and slashed with his walking stickthrough the air. There was no doubt that Mr. Carrington was thoroughlyand genuinely puzzled.