‘All present and correct, madam. May I know your name?’
‘Mrs McQuinn,’ I said. ‘Thanks to you, Doctor, I’ve survived – I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.’
He smiled.‘Your thanks belong to old Pilot here.’
And before I could tell him the coincidence of Thane he stood up and regarded me sternly. ‘One more thing I must ask …’ He hesitated a moment. ‘Tell me, Mrs McQuinn, are you on some kind of drugs?’
‘Drugs? Of course not.’
‘You are absolutely certain. No kind of medication?’
‘No. I assure you I am perfectly healthy.’
He nodded but looked rather doubtful. ‘Very well. If you have any problems, then you can consult your own physician when you return home. Meanwhile I will make us a restoring cup of tea before you continue your journey – in safety this time.’
Dr Everson placed the cup of tea before me and proffered milk and sugar, which I declined. The first sip and the mists of confusion began to clear.
‘I was perfectly fit until I boarded that train for Perth. But I have not the slightest idea why I required fresh air, opened the door, and fell out of the train.’
Now as I said the words, the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. Those last moments – the maid Hinton’s strong arm around me, my cries for help unheeded … and the thought came sharp as a knife: did I fall or was I pushed?
‘Your questions intrigue me, Doctor. Is there some point to them? Do I look as if I might be an opium addict?’
He smiled. ‘Far from it, Mrs McQuinn, but many ladies take laudanum for relief from pain – our late Queen set a lamentable fashion.’ He shook his head. ‘As I lifted you, it was not opium or laudanum I detected on your breath but a substance much more dangerous.’
And as I raised the cup again to my lips, I thought of that other time in Waverley station. Hinton with the two cups of tea.
‘Then I know the answer to your question, Doctor. I was travelling with a woman who tried to rob me.’ I told him about the refreshments and he said firmly, ‘It is obvious that she put something in the tea to drug you, and when it took effect, she pushed you off the train. What did she steal?’
‘Nothing. I felt uneasy about her from the outset of the journey, her insistence that she should carry my bag I found rather odd.’ And I told him of how I had taken the precaution of removing the package from the satchel in the ladies’ lavatory at the station.
‘I have the packages she wanted safe here,’ I added, indicating the large pockets of my skirt, an invaluable necessity for the convenience of a lady cyclist, but I omitted any mention of the derringer I also carried which I had had no opportunity to use.
Dr Everson listened, his expression grave. ‘This is a very serious matter, Mrs McQuinn. Attempted robbery and assault. A matter for the police for immediate investigation.’
He sat back and looked at me. ‘This woman is a dangerous criminal. She tried to kill you. You must inform the police. At once,’ he repeated.
‘I shall do so when I get home, Doctor. My husband’ – how odd the word sounded – ‘is a detective inspector with Edinburgh City Police.’
The doctor gave a sigh of relief. ‘Then he will know what to do, although I fear by the time you get back to Edinburgh it will be too late to catch this woman. She almost got away with murder.’
And that was all she got away with, I thought triumphantly, imagining her anger when she opened the satchel and discovered the small doll, intended for Meg’s birthday, which I had substituted in the ladies’ lavatory for the sealed package.
I was considering continuing my journey to Lochandor, but on my feet again, I realised that I was still severely shaken.
A glance in the mirror produced a very dishevelled image; in general I looked awful, with dusty clothes and wild hair, never easy to control at the best of times, clearly sending a message to all the world that I had been pulled through a hedge backwards. Which, in fact, was not far from the truth.
I had tried to restore equilibrium. The doctor had provided soap, a towel and a clothes brush, but when I reappeared he would not hear of my plan to continue my journey, insisting that doctor’s orders were that I return to Edinburgh immediately and inform my husband of the attack made on me and allow him to begin investigations for my attacker’s capture.
I had to agree with him. Even disregarding my appearance sorely in need of repairs, I did not feel like going to Perth, making my way to an unknown destination alone and travelling on to look for Meg in her new home.
I had to feel stronger than I did at this moment, and there was something else …
Considering Hinton’s murderous behaviour, I was seriously concerned about the welfare of Mrs Lawers. I had to check that all was well in Duddingston before I resumed my journey.
CHAPTER FIVE
As the doctor and I sat in his carriage at the local station, awaiting the arrival of the train for Edinburgh, Pilot was by his side and I asked the doctor about the deerhound.
‘I have one almost exactly the same at home. How did you come by him? Tell me – how old is he?’
‘Maybe fourteen or even older. Since he came to us fully grown, I couldn’t tell you exactly.’ He shook his head. ‘It is a long story, Mrs McQuinn.’
The dog looked up, knew he was being talked about and seemed to smile.
Dr Everson patted his head. ‘He has shown no signs of ageing. He is as active as he was in those first days, which we thought of as near puppyhood.’
‘Indeed, he looks remarkably young,’ I commented and told him that Thane had been with me for six years.
The train was late, delayed at the signals. When it arrived ten minutes later, I said goodbye gratefully to my rescuer, and having exchanged cards with him, sat by the window in a compartment with several other passengers. I was taking no chances this time. Looking out of the window, I went over what the doctor had related in the waiting room about the strange origins of deerhounds.
‘These hounds are the oldest breed in Britain, and, along with their cousins the wolfhounds of Ireland, they were certainly here at the time of the Druids, and the Romans knew them. Legend has it that the Irish princess Deirdre had a deerhound always at her side when she lived in the Highlands, in Glen Etive. Their roots probably go back to man’s earliest arrival, and it would seem that magic was involved. They were first heard of in the wilds of Argyll and live there still, a wild pack of them, seldom seen, roaming the hills, and people fortunate enough to persuade one to become domesticated and live with them never see their deerhound die.
‘When death is approaching they grow restless, refuse to eat and seem to be listening, waiting. Then a day comes when their pet disappears. Time passes and the whole household agrees that he has died out there somewhere. Then one morning they open the door and he is back again, as if he had never left.
‘Is this the same dog? For he has the same characteristics, recognises them, takes on again where he left off, as if he has been away for a day or two, and behaves in every way like the same beloved pet reborn.’ The doctor had finally added, ‘Perhaps you did not realise, but something very odd happened this afternoon. The pack seem to have a universal telepathy transcending time and place. They seem to know when some human to whom they are devoted is in danger.’
And looking at me very intently he continued, ‘As you were today. Pilot got the message from your deerhound. It all happened quite suddenly for me, sitting by the fireside enjoying a quiet moment before my afternoon visits. We had had our walk for the day and I wasn’t intending taking him again, but he was quite insistent, rushing back and forth to the door. I have had him long enough to realise that something was bothering him and that he needed me. So I followed him, and as the train was approaching, he bolted up the hill. What the devil was he up to? I was alarmed and yelled at him to come back.
‘But as the smoke faded, I saw him bending over an inert figure, halfway up, someone lying i
njured.’ He sighed. ‘The word had been spread and he had found you, Mrs McQuinn.’
By the time we reached Waverley and I left the train it was raining hard. My bruises and cut knee made themselves painfully evident and rebelled against that two-mile walk to Solomon’s Tower, so feeling rather reckless and extravagant, I took a carriage home.
Thane bounded out to meet me. Remembering the doctor’s strange stories, I could have imagined that there was relief in that welcome.
Jack would be in shortly and, preparing a meal, I wondered what he would make of my terrifying experience.
I was not to find out that day. There was a note on the table that he had been called away to a court case down south as a witness, and as it might drag on, I was not to expect him back for a couple of days. He was looking forward eagerly to my meeting with Meg and hoped that I had found her well and happy. I groaned. Unless he was considerably delayed while I made my second foray to Tarnbrae, he was in for a disappointment.
The rain was fairly lashing down now and, too tired and achy to bicycle, it was quite out of the question in my present state to walk even the short distance to Duddingston to see Mrs Lawers.
A warm bath in front of the kitchen fire was a wise move but more beneficial than I had intended. I sat by the fire, had some of the soup I had left for Jack, and opened my eyes, to find the room in darkness. I had slept for two hours and it was now too dark and, as the rain continued unabated, too wet for Duddingston. The visit to Mrs Lawers must wait until tomorrow. I would go quite early, and having made sure that all was well with her, resume my journey to Lochandor, deliver the package and proceed to visit Jack’s little daughter.
With cuts and bruises still troublesome and with some added misgivings, the result of nightmarish dreams about train journeys, bicycling was a painful experience. I was glad to dismount at Mrs Lawers’ house, one of four in a little row, very old but well preserved.
A knock on the door followed by a long delay added to my growing disquiet. At last, I thought, the twitch of a curtain, the shuffle of footsteps, but the door remained closed.
‘Is that you, Mrs McQuinn?’ It was Mrs Lawers and I gave a sigh of relief. ‘I cannot open the door to you, the doctor fears that my influenza is highly contagious.’
She remained invisible, her voice a hoarse whisper, interupted by a fit of coughing: ‘I am being well cared for. Thank you …’ she gasped, ‘we will talk when I am well enough to receive visitors.’
A further bout of coughing terminated any further attempts at conversation and I was left there, standing helpless, unable to tell her of the terrible events of yesterday or warn her of Hinton’s duplicity while reassuring her that the package was still safe with me.
I was mounting my bicycle again when the next door opened and a handsome middle-aged woman with dark curly hair emerged carrying a large basket. I hesitated and she waved to me and hurried over.
‘I saw you at Mrs Lawers,’ she said and began to tell me about the influenza, that the basket was for provisions for her sick friend. So that was true.
‘I am taking care of her as best I can; she has but to knock on my wall and I will come to her, although she will not let me enter the house.’
‘What about her maid?’
‘She’s away visiting a friend … I think,’ she added vaguely. ‘Most unfortunate at this time, although Mary – Mrs Lawers – is pleased; she wouldn’t like her to take the influenza. Has a bad chest, poor thing; they are both getting on a bit, rather frail.’
A vision of the strong Hinton came sharply to mind as the cheery-faced neighbour said, ‘I’m Amy Dodd, by the way. Pleased to meet you.’ She smiled. ‘Mary and I have been chums since I first came here four years ago.’
Introducing myself, I wanted to hear more about the missing Hinton but Amy rushed on, ‘I have no fears for myself, except that my two grandchildren may be coming to stay and I wouldn’t like them to take ill. Hinton will be returning tomorrow; we hope by then that she will be out of danger of passing on the infection.’
I left her, feeling relieved and dismayed both at the same time. Mrs Lawers had been too ill for me to distress her further with what had happened along with my suspicions regarding her maid. She believed I had been successful in delivering the package and I realised that I was morally obligated to carry out the mission for which I had been paid so generously. I had another urgent reason – seeing Jack’s daughter in her new home and setting his anxieties at rest, I would be able to return with good news for him as well as cheering news for my client.
Returning to the Tower, doubts crept in. Jack could not have been absent at a more crucial time. If only he had been here, he would have known what to advise. But this was always the way, and always would be. One of the disadvantages of being a policeman’s wife: they were never at hand when most needed. ‘Married to the job’ was an easy way of putting it.
I decided not to leave a message. Best that he did not know of my sinister adventure, and hopefully I would be home again before his return.
So I gave Thane a farewell hug and instructions to take care of everything in our absence, which he seemed as always to understand – I have no idea why, but a communication between Thane and myself certainly existed. This had been confirmed by Doctor Everson and I wanted to ask Thane if he was acquainted with a deerhound called Pilot – but that was nonsense and I still found the doctor’s story hard to believe.
I made my way to the station in time for the Perth train and prudently took a seat in a carriage with four other passengers. There was safety in numbers and I had a book by my favourite authoress, Jane Austen, but found my mind drifting away from Emma’s trials to the scenes outside the window – the fascination of rapidly appearing and quickly disappearing countryside beneath the train’s fast-moving wheels through the clouds of steam, and the small villages and occasional stops at stations on the way.
But mostly my thoughts were fixed on that last journey and the murderous attack by the woman who called herself the maid Hinton, an impostor, and deeply involved in a plot to steal Mrs Lawers’ package.
There must have been some intriguing story regarding its value but I could not imagine from that faded writing on the exterior what was inside, merely that the contents were very old and valuable enough for the bogus Hinton to be prepared to commit murder to gain possession of them.
I went over her behaviour step by step. Obviously she intended that my death should be reported as an unfortunate accident. I knew the sort of story that ‘Hinton’, if questioned, would have ready: the lady, unknown to her, of course, a fellow passenger, felt faint, opened the door for fresh air and fell out. What explanation would she give as to why she had not stopped the train by pulling the communication cord?
None of my possessions remained on board the train, except for the satchel, and I would have enjoyed seeing her face when she saw the package’s replacement.
Making enquiries regarding a carriage as I left the train at Perth station, the porter said:
‘Lochandor, is it? There’s a local train, miss.’ And consulting the clock. ‘This platform, in ten minutes. Cheaper than taking a carriage, miss,’ he added, his wry look taking in my shoulder-carrier and lack of elegant attire, suggesting that I would be well advised to count each penny and avoid unnecessary expense.
I purchased a ticket for one shilling and half an hour later alighted at Lochandor, indicated only by a lonely platform. No village or hamlet, no visible sign of habitation. Nothing in sight beyond a couple of hiring carriages awaiting the train’s arrival.
Ahead of me, two passengers from other parts of the train were moving rapidly in their direction. Two ladies who from their polite acknowledgements of one another were unacquainted and had travelled separately. Both heavily veiled. A quick scrutiny suggested they were young, well off and in an interesting condition. As each claimed a hiring carriage and had her luggage boarded, I wondered how long I would have to wait until the next carriage arrived. One of the dr
ivers looked in my direction and, leaning forward, had a brief conversation with his passenger.
Whatever he asked I heard only a strongly negative response and a rather shrill, ‘I think not, driver, please proceed.’
With a sigh he called across to me, ‘Back in ten minutes, miss!’
CHAPTER SIX
It was a fine day and the delay did not bother me as both carriages drove swiftly away up the hill and I took in my surroundings, still at a loss by the complete absence of any habitation.
The driver, true to his word, was back in ten minutes.
He grinned; a friendly soul, he thought an apology was needed.
‘Sorry about that, miss. Thought as you was going the same way, the lady might have shared with you. Less costly. Looked as if she could afford it right enough, but it would have saved you a shilling.’
I sat back, certainly not as well dressed or well luggaged as the two ladies, but did I look so shabby and poor? Concentrating on the empty road ahead, in a few minutes we turned into ornate gates, and headed down the drive to the entrance of a large mansion.
Suddenly it all became clear and I realised that Lochandor was not a village but a large estate. Mrs Lawers’ distant relative, a wealthy landowner, possibly the local laird, had decided with the advent of the railways to have a halt on his land, particularly for goods and guests from the south, sparing them and himself the inconvenience of being met at Perth, the nearest railway station.
‘Front or back entrance, miss?’
‘This will do very well, thank you.’
From his chatty manner and my unprepossessing appearance, he had concluded that I was a servant. He looked almost apologetic as I alighted, paid my fare and proceeded up the steps between their fierce-looking rampant lions.
Deadly Legacy Page 3
