CHAPTER XII
Juliet failed to extract much comfort from Gimblet when, about sixo'clock, she met him coming up through the garden to Inverashiel Cottage.
All the afternoon she had possessed her soul in what patience she couldmuster, which was not a great deal. Still, by dint of repeating toherself that she must give the detective time to study the facts, andopportunity to verify them at his leisure and in his own way, she hadmanaged to get through the long inactive hours, and to force herself notto dwell upon the vision of David in prison, which, do as she would, wasever before her eyes.
Events had followed one another so fast during the last few days that hermind was dulled, as by a succession of rapid blows, and she was hardlyconscious of anything beyond the unbearable pain caused by the cumulativeshocks 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 hadnot been for that paralyzing obstacle, she knew she would have gladlyfollowed 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 thatalmost counterbalanced the hopeless misery to which, on her morecompletely realizing the situation, it gradually gave place.
Then had come the swift physical disaster from which she had barelyescaped with her life. She had not had time to recover from this when, afew hours later, she had been called upon to face the emotions andagitations aroused by the news of her relationship to Lord Ashiel, andthe history of her birth and parentage. In the midst of this excitementhad come the sudden tragedy of which she had been a witness, and whichhad overwhelmed and prostrated her with grief and horror. Next day shehad been obliged to undergo the ordeal of being cross-questioned by thepolice, and close upon that had come the final catastrophe of David'sarrest and departure. This last shock so overshadowed all the rest of hermisfortunes that it stimulated her to action, and she had herself runmost of the way to the post office two miles down the road, to send thetelegram 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 shewere in trouble. Well, she was in trouble; she had sent for him; he wouldcome, and somehow he would find a way of putting straight this hideousnightmare in which she found herself living. How happy, in comparison,had been her life in Belgium, in the household of her adopted father andstepmother! She could have found it in her heart to wish she had neverleft their roof; but that would have involved never making theacquaintance of David, a possibility she could not contemplate.
Even now the remembrance of the rapidity with which Miss Tarver hadpacked her traps, renounced her betrothed and all his works, and fledfrom the scene of disaster by the first available train, did much tocheer her in the midst of all her depression.
It was not, however, until some time after Lady Ruth Worsfold had askedher to stay with her for the present, and she had removed herself and herbelongings to the cottage, that she realized how impossible it was forher to make good her position as Lord Ashler's daughter and heir. She hadhis word for it, and that was enough for her; but she understood, as soonas it occurred to her, that more would be required by the law before shecould 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 otherplans for enabling her to remain at the castle as its owner, she feltthat what he proposed was absolutely impossible, and while she thankedhim, declined firmly to do anything of the sort.
At the back of her mind was the conviction that the will her father hadspoken of would come to light. It would surely be found, if not byherself, then by Gimblet. She acceded to Mark's request that she shouldjoin him in looking through his uncle's papers. They went over those inthe library together before she left the house.
Now that Gimblet had come back from the castle, where he had spent halfthe day, he must have good news for her, she felt persuaded. But to allher questions he would only reply that he had nothing definite to tellher, and that she must wait till to-morrow or even longer. Indeed, shethought he seemed anxious to get away from her, and asked at once if hemight see his room.
"I want a bath more than anything," he said. And then, taking pity on herdistress, "I wouldn't worry myself too much about Sir David's safety if Iwere you," he added, looking at her with a very kind, friendly light inhis eyes. But as she exclaimed joyfully and pressed him to be moreexplicit, his look changed to one of admonition, and he held a finger tohis lips. "Not a word to a living soul, whoever it may be," he cautionedher, "and be careful not to show any hope you may be so optimistic as tofeel," he added, smiling, "or you may ruin the whole thing. This is avery dark and dangerous affair, and the less it is spoken about, evenbetween friends, the better."
"Mayn't I even tell Lady Ruth?" she asked. "She is very anxious, I know."
"Better not," he warned her. "It may be better for Sir David in thelong-run, if his friends think him guilty a few days longer. It will bewisest if you let it appear that even you can hardly continue to clingto the idea of his innocence. You can be trusted to act a part wheresuch great issues are involved, can you not? More may depend on it thanyou think."
"I'll be silent as the grave," she cried. "As the grave," she repeatedmore soberly, and turned away, reproaching herself silently, since in heranxiety for David her sorrow for her father had been a moment forgotten.
When Gimblet came down again, clean and refreshed, he found no one buthis hostess, Lady Ruth Worsfold.
Lady Ruth's hair was white, in appearance she was short and squat, andshe had a curiously disconnected habit of conversation, but for all thatshe was a person of great discernment, and uncommonly wide awake. Shesided staunchly with Juliet in her belief in David's innocence.
"Never," she said, "will I credit such a thing of the lad. You may saywhat you like, Mr. Gimblet, you can prove till you're black in theface that he murdered every soul in the house, it won't make anydifference to me."
"Who do you think did do it, Lady Ruth?" Gimblet asked.
"What do I know? An escaped lunatic, one of the keepers, the underhousemaid, anyone you like. What does it matter? It wasn't David, eventhough his namesake did kill Goliath, and I always disliked the name,having suffered from a Biblical one myself. I said to his mother when hewas born. 'For goodness' sake give the poor child a name he won't beexpected to live up to. Just fancy how his friends will hate to be knownas Jonathans, let alone thingamy's wife. You're laying up a scandal foryour son,' I told her, and if my words haven't come true it's more thanksto him than to his parents. A nice pink and white baby he was, poor boy.There's just one good side to this dreadful affair," she went on withouta pause, "and that is that the young lady with the dollars whom he was tohave married, and hated the sight of, has thrown him over. The firstleast little breath of suspicion was enough for her, and the moment hewas downright accused she was off. And he's well rid of her, dollars andall. An Englishman of his birth and looks doesn't need to go to Chicagofor a wife."
"Was Sir David in need of money?" asked Gimblet.
"He hasn't got a penny," said Lady Ruth. "Not a red cent, as thatterrible young woman put it. His father left everything to themoneylenders, so to speak, and David couldn't bear to see his motherpoverty-stricken. He did it entirely for her sake--got engaged, Imean--but I don't think he'd have been such a self-sacrificing son ifhe'd met Miss Juliet Byrne a little earlier in the day."
"Indeed!" said Gimblet. "I thought Miss Byrne seemed very much worriedabout his arrest."
"Worried? Poor child, she's the ghost of what she was a few days ago.Half-drowned, too, when it happened, which made it worse for her."
"She must have had a narrow escape," Gimblet remarked. "What was the nameof the man who pulled her out of the river?"
"Andy Campbell. He had been stalking with Mark McConachan."
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p; "Was young Lord Ashiel with him?"
"No, he was on ahead. He saw Juliet in the distance, just going up to thewaterfall, but he seems to have taken her for Miss Romaninov, which isodd, because they aren't in the least like one another, one being talland the other short, in the first place, and one fair and the other darkin the second. He can't have looked very carefully. However, he was verypositive about it till they both assured him that Julia Romaninov hadturned and gone home some time before she had reached the top pool. And Icertainly should have in her place. It doesn't amuse me scrambling overrocks and scratching my legs in bramble bushes. The path Andy came bygoes along high above the water for half a mile. I hate walking on aheight myself. And for most of that distance the river is not in sight.If he hadn't been thirsty and come down to the water-side for a drink ata spring near by, he would never have seen Miss Byrne floating down thestream, and she would have been in the loch pretty soon. It just showshow much better it is to drink water than whisky."
"It was lucky he did," said Gimblet. "Does the path pass in sight of thepool she fell into?"
"No. The banks are high there, and you can't see down into the poolunless you go to the very edge of the precipice. I did it once, to lookat the waterfall, and I very nearly joined it. It's a nasty giddy place,though why one should feel inclined to throw oneself down I can'timagine; but it seems a natural instinct, and it's certainly easier to godown than up."
"It appears almost miraculous that she wasn't drowned," said Gimblet."She certainly can have been in no fit state to bear the events thatfollowed."
"No, indeed. She has lost everything: father, family and lover at oneblow. You know Lord Ashiel said she was his daughter, and told her he'dmade a will leaving everything to her. For that matter the lawyers say hedidn't--not that I should ever believe anything a lawyer said. Theyalways mean something you wouldn't expect from their words. They do it, Ibelieve, to keep in practice for trials, you know, where they have tomake the witnesses say what they don't mean, poor things. And what Ishall have put into my mouth by them, if I'm called as a witness againstpoor David, doesn't bear thinking of. But the Lord knows what Ashiel didwith the will, and, as I was saying, it can't be found."
"So I heard," said Gimblet "You talk of being called as a witness, LadyRuth. Do you know anything about the case? Where were you when the shotwas fired?"
"Oh no," she said, "I shouldn't have anything to tell, but I don'tsuppose that will matter. They'll twist and turn my words till I findmyself saying I saw him do it with my own eyes. My poor dear husband,when I first met him, was an eminent Q.C., as you may know, Mr. Gimblet,so I have a very good idea what they're like. I refused him point-blankwhen he proposed, but he proved to me in three minutes that I'd reallyaccepted him; and it was the same thing ever after. A wonderfullybrilliant man, though slightly trying at times, especially in church,where he always snored so unnecessarily loud--or so it seemed to me. Ioften think deafness has its compensations, though I'm sure I ought to bethankful at my age that my hearing is still so acute. However, I didn'thear the shot the other night, but the castle walls are thick even inthat detestable modern addition, and besides, Julia Romaninov has gotsuch a tremendously powerful voice,''
"Were you talking to her?"
"Oh dear no! I was playing patience, and she was singing, while MissTarver murdered the accompaniment. We little thought at the time thatsome one else was murdering poor Ashiel while we were sitting there inpeace. I must say that girl sings remarkably well, and it was a pitythere was no one who could play for her. Though it wasn't for want ofpractice on Miss Tarver's part. The moment we were out of thedining-room she would sit down at the piano, and they would neither ofthem stop till bedtime."
"Had they both been playing and singing all that evening?"
"Yes, they hadn't ceased for a moment, and I found it prevented the Demonfrom coming out, as I couldn't help counting in time with the music. Itwas all right when it was one, two, three, but common time muddled itdreadfully, though now I come to think of it, Julia was not actually inthe room when we heard the bad news. She'd gone upstairs to look for asong or something. Of course there's no legal proof that Juliet really ishis child," Lady Ruth continued; "she admits that he was rather vagueabout it, fancied a resemblance, in fact. Not that I or anyone else hadany notion he had been married as a young man, but that's a thing hewould be likely to be right about. I must say Mark has behaved extremelywell about it, even quixotically. He wanted her to take his inheritance,and when she refused--and of course she couldn't decently do otherwise--I'm blessed if he didn't ask her to marry him."
Gimblet looked up with more interest than he had yet shown.
"Do you mean to say he proposed that, merely as a way out of thedifficulty?"
"Well, more or less. I don't say he isn't attracted by the pretty face ofher, as much as his cousin was; privately I think he is, but I don'treally know. Anyhow, it certainly would be a very good solution; but itwas tactless of him to suggest it with David at the foot of the gallows,poor boy."
"She didn't tell me that," murmured Gimblet.
At that moment Juliet came into the room, and they talked of otherthings.
"I hear the post is gone," Gimblet said presently.
"I particularly wanted to catch it. I suppose there is no means ofposting a letter now?"
The last train had gone south by that time, however, so there was nothingto be done till the next day.
He retired again to his room and gave himself up to his correspondence.
First a long letter to Macross in Glasgow, begging for the loan of printsof the photographs taken by the police during their visit, together withany details they might see fit to impart as to their observations andconclusions. "I have arrived so late on the scene that you have left menothing to do," he wrote deceitfully. "But for the interest of the case Ishould like to have a look at the photographs."
He did not expect to get much help from Macross.
Then he took from his pocket the pill-box in which he had stored the dustso carefully collected in the gunroom. He wrapped it carefully in paper,and addressed the small parcel to an expert analyst in Edinburgh. Hewrote one more letter, and then went downstairs again.
The dressing-bell sounded as he opened his door, and at the foot of thestaircase he met the two ladies on their way to dress.
"Dinner is at eight, Mr. Gimblet," Lady Ruth told him.
"I was just coming to find you," Gimblet answered her. "I want to ask ifyou would mind my not coming down? I am subject to very bad headachesafter a long journey; and, as I want particularly to be up earlyto-morrow, I think the best thing I can do is to go straight to bed andsleep it off. It is poor sort of behaviour for a detective, I am aware,but I hope you will forgive it."
"You must certainly go to bed if you feel inclined to," said Lady Ruth;"but you will have some dinner in your room, will you not? They shallbring you up the menu."
"No, really, thanks, I shall be better without anything. I know how totreat these heads of mine by now, I assure you, and I won't have anythingto eat till to-morrow morning. The only thing I need is quiet and sleep.If you will be so very kind as to give orders that I shall not bedisturbed...."
"Of course, of course," said his hostess, full of concern. "And you mustlet me give you an excellent remedy for headaches. It was given me yearsago by dear old Sir Ronald Tompkins, that famous specialist, you know,who always ordered every one to roll on the floor after meals, and Iinvariably keep a bottle by me."
And she hurried off to fetch it.
Gimblet accepted it gratefully, and as he passed a hand across his achingbrow said he felt sure it would do him good.
Once again within his own room, however, the detective's headache seemedto have miraculously vanished, and he showed himself in no hurry to go tobed. Instead, having locked the door and drawn down the blind, he satdown in an arm-chair and gave himself up to reflection. Mentally herehearsed the facts of the case as far as they were known to him, and wasobliged t
o admit that he found several of them very puzzling.
There were other problems, too, not directly connected with the murder,of which he could not at present make head or tail. For instance, wherewas he to find the documents which he knew it was Lord Ashiel's wish heshould take charge of. He had promised that he would do so, and therecollection of his failure to guard the first thing the dead peer hadentrusted him with made him the more determined that he would carry outthe remainder of his promise. But how was he to begin his search? He hadso little to go on, and he dared not hint to anyone what he wished tofind. Yet, if he delayed, it was possible that young Ashiel would comeacross the papers in his hunt for his uncle's will, and Gimblet feltthere was danger in their falling into the hands of anyone but himself.
He took out his notebook and studied the dying words of his unfortunateclient.
"Gimblet--the clock--eleven--steps." Or was it steppes?
Considering that he had lived in dread of a blow which should descend onhim out of Russia, the last seemed the more likely.
There was the strange circumstance of the body's being found by thepolice in a position differing from that described by those who first sawit. Young Ashiel, Juliet and the butler all agreed that it had fallenforward on to the blotting-book in the middle of the table; but Mark hadtold him that on his return with the police the attitude had beenchanged. Had he been mistaken? Macross's photographs would show. But ifnot, and the murdered man had really shifted his position, what did itprove? That they had been wrong in thinking him dead? The doctor'sevidence was that the wound he had received must have been instantlyfatal, or almost instantly. Then some one must have moved the body, andwho but David knew where the key of the room had been put away? But whyshould David have moved him?
Then there was the letter which had come two days after the murder; theletter written in French and posted in Paris, but probably not written bya Frenchman, and so timed as to reach its destination too late. Was itintentionally delayed, or would Lord Ashiel's death come as an entiresurprise to the writer? It certainly would, if the police were right, andSir David Southern guilty of his uncle's death.
But was he guilty? Gimblet thought not.
These and other questions occupied the detective's mind so completelythat half an hour passed like a flash, and it was only when the noise ofthe dinner-bell broke in upon his meditations that he roused himself andpulled out his watch. Then he sat upright, and listened.
His room was above the drawing-room, and he could hear Lady Ruth's clear,rather high voice mingling with the deep tones of a man's, in a confused,murmuring duet which after a few moments died away and was followed bythe distant sound of a closing door.
It was not difficult to deduce from these sounds that Lord Ashiel hadarrived, and that the little party of three had gone in to dinner.
It was half an hour more before Gimblet rose, and walked quietly over tothe window. He drew the blind cautiously aside and looked out. Alreadythe days were growing shorter, and the little house, embowered in trees,and shut in by a tall hill from the western sky, was nearly completelyengulfed in darkness. Below him, on the right, he could just discern thetop of the porch, and beyond it a faint glow of light rose from thewindow of the dining-room.
It did not need a very remarkable degree of activity to clamber from thewindow to the porch, and so down to the ground. To Gimblet it was as easyas going downstairs. In two minutes he was stealing away under the treesin the direction of Inverashiel Castle.
"The worst of this Highland air," he said to himself as he walked along,"is that it makes one so fearfully hungry, even here on the West Coast. Icould have done very nicely with my dinner. But such is life. And it'slucky I am not entirely without provisions."
So saying, he took a box of chocolates from his pocket and began todemolish the contents.
The Ashiel mystery: A Detective Story Page 12
