CHAPTER XV
Blanston, to whom he appealed, could give no useful information. Yes,some of the plate was old, but that was all at the bank in London. Mrs.Haviland, his lordship's sister, had liked it on the table when hislordship entertained in his London house, and it had not been carriedbackwards and forwards to Scotland since her ladyship's death.
He knew of nothing resembling a bull in his lordship's possession, unlessit was the picture of cows that hung in the drawing-room opposite the oneof the dead stag.
Gimblet had already exhausted the possibilities of that highly varnishedoil-painting, and he went forth from the house in a state of deepdejection.
As he descended the drive he heard his name called, and looking backperceived the short, sturdy figure of Lady Ruth hurrying down the roadbehind him.
"If you are going back to the cottage, Mr. Gimblet," she panted, "let uswalk together. I ran after you when I saw your hat go past the window,for I couldn't stand those frowsty old papers of Mark's any longer."
Gimblet waited till she came up, still talking, although considerably outof breath.
"We will go by the road, if you don't mind," she said, "the lochside israther rough for me. I have been paying a visit of charity, and very hardwork it is paying visits in the country when you don't keep a conveyanceof any kind, and I really can't afford even a donkey. You see theJudge's income died with him, poor dear, in spite of those foolishsayings about not being able to take your money with you to the betterland, where I am sure one would want it just as much as anywhere else,for the better life you lead, the more expensive it is. No one could begenerous, or charitable, or unselfish, with nothing to give up or to giveaway. That's only common sense, and I always say that common sense issuch a help when called upon to face problems of a religious kind.
"My uncle was a bishop and a very learned theologian, I assure you; buthe always held that it was impious to apply plain common sense to mattersso far above us, and that is why he and my poor husband were never onspeaking terms; not from any fault of the Judge's, who had been trainedto think about logic and all that kind of thing which is so useful topeople at the Bar.
"But it takes all sorts to make a world, as he often used to say tohimself, and if every one was exactly alike one would feel almost assolitary as if the whole earth was empty and void, while, as for virtuesand good qualities, they would automatically cease to exist, so that areally good man would simply long to go to hell and have some opportunityto show his goodness. That always seemed very reasonable to me, but I amjust telling you what my husband used to say, because I really don't knowmuch about these things, and he was such a clever man, and what he saidwas always listened to with great interest and respect at the Old Bailey.If it hadn't been, of course he would have cleared the court.
"But as I was telling you, his money went with him, though I know healways meant to insure his life, which is such a boring thing to think ofwhen a man has many calls on his purse. And so, I live, as you see, in avery quiet way up here, and sometimes get down to the South for a monthor six weeks in the winter, where I have many kind friends. But I findthe hills rather trying to my legs as time goes on, and I don't veryoften walk as far as I have to-day. Still charity, as they say, covers amultitude of miles, and I really thought it my duty to come and see howpoor Mark was bearing up all alone at Inverashiel. I was afraid he wouldbe terribly unhappy, poor boy, so soon after the funeral, and JulietByrne having refused him, and everything. Though of course he can't bepitied for inheriting Inverashiel, such a lovely place, is it not? Andquantities of property in the coal district, you know, besides. He isreally a very lucky young man."
"It is indeed a most beautiful country," Gimblet observed, as LadyRuth's breath gave out completely, and she stopped by the roadside toregain it. He was deep in thought, and glad to escape the necessity offrequent speech.
"Yes," she said, as they moved slowly on, "I had a delightful walk here,and found him much more cheerful than I had feared. It is such a goodthing he has all those papers to look over. It is everything, at a timelike this, to have an occupation. It is so dreadful to think of dearDavid with absolutely nothing to do in that horrid cell. I wonder if theyallow him to smoke, or to keep a tame mouse, which I remember reading issuch a comfort to prisoners. I do hope, Mr. Gimblet, that you will soonbe able to get him out of it."
Before Gimblet could reply, the silence was broken by the rumble ofwheels; and a farmer's cart came up behind them, driven by a thin manin a black coat, who had evidently attended the funeral earlier in theday. The road, at the point they had reached, was beginning to ascend;and the stout pony between the shafts slowed resolutely to a walk as heleant against the collar. The man lifted his hat as Lady Ruth wishedhim good day.
"I saw you at the funeral, Angus McConachan," she said. "A sad business.A terrible business." And she shook her head mournfully.
The farmer stopped the willing pony.
"That it is, my leddy," he assented. "It's a black day indeed, when theheed o' a clan is struck doon by are o' his ain bleed. It's a great peetythat the lad would ha' forgot what he owed to his salt. But I'm thinkin'they'll be hangin' him afore the year's oot."
"Oh, Angus," cried Lady Ruth, in horrified tones, "don't talk in thatdreadful way. I'm quite, quite sure Sir David never had any part in thething. It's all a mistake, and this gentleman here is going to find outwho really fired the shot."
"Well, I hope ye'll be richt, my leddy," was all the farmer would commithimself to, as he gathered up the reins. Then he hesitated, looking downon the hot, flushed countenance of the lady in the road beneath him. "Ifyer leddyship will be tackin' a seat in the machine," he hazarded, "it'llmaybe save ye the trail up the brae."
Lady Ruth accepted the suggestion with great content. She was gettingvery tired, and was finding the walk more exhausting than she hadbargained for. She lost no time in climbing up beside Angus, and the fatpony was induced to continue its reluctant progress.
Near the top of the hill the road forked into two branches, that whichled to the right continuing parallel with the loch, whilst the otherdiverged over the hill towards Auchtermuchty, a town some fifteen milesdistant. The stout pony unhesitatingly took the turning to the left.
The farmer looked at Lady Ruth inquiringly.
"Will ye get doon here, my leddy?" he asked; "or will ye drive on as faras the sheepfold? It will be shorter for ye tae walk doon fay there, bythe burn and the Green Way."
"I should like to do that;" said Lady Ruth, "if you don't mind taking meso far. Perhaps you would give Mr. Gimblet a lift too, now that we're ontop of the hill?"
The man readily consented, and Gimblet, who was following on foot, wascalled and informed of the proposed change of route. He scrambled intothe back of the cart and they rattled along the upper road, the stoutpony no doubt wearing a very aggrieved expression under its blinkers.
When another mile had been traversed, they were put down at a place wherea rough track led down across the moor by the side of an old stonesheepfold.
The cart jogged off to the sound of a chorus of thanks, and Lady Ruth andGimblet started down the heather-grown path. They rounded the corners ofthe deserted fold, and walked on into the golden mist of sunset whichspread in front of them, enveloping and dazzling. The clouds of themorning had rolled silently away to the horizon, the wind had dropped toa mere capful; and the midges were abroad in their hosts, rejoicing inthe improvement in the weather.
"I don't believe it's going to rain after all," said Lady Ruth. "The sunlooks rather too red, perhaps, to be quite safe, though it _is_ supposedto be the shepherd's delight. I can only say that, if he was delightedwith the result of some of the red sunsets we get up here, he'd be easilypleased, and for my part I'm never surprised at anything. These midgesare past belief, aren't they?"
They were, Gimblet agreed heartily. He gathered a handful of fern andtried to keep them at bay, but they were persevering and ubiquitous. Soonthe path led them away from the open moor, and into th
e wood of birchesand young oaks which clung to the side of the hill. A little farther, andGimblet heard the distant gurgling of a burn; presently they were pickingtheir way between moss-covered boulders on the edge of a rocky gully.Great tufts of ferns dotted the steep pitch of the bank below; the streamthat clattered among the stones at the bottom shone very cool and shadowyunder the alders; and a clearing on the other side revealed, over thereceding woods, the broken hill-tops of a blue horizon.
The path wound gradually downward to the waterside, and in a little whilethey crossed it by means of a row of stepping-stones over which Lady Ruthpassed as boldly as her companion.
Another hundred yards of shade, and they came out into a long narrowglen, carpeted with short springy turf, and bordered, as by an avenue,with trees knee-deep in bracken. The rectangular shape and enclosednature of the glade came as a surprise in the midst of the wildwoodlands. The place had more the air of forming part of pleasure groundsnear to the haunts of man, and the eye wandered instinctively in searchof a house. The effect of artificiality was increased by a large piece ofstatuary representing a figure carved in stone and standing upon a highoblong pediment, which stood a little distance down the glen.
Gimblet did not repress his feeling of astonishment.
"What a strange place!" he exclaimed. "Who would have expected tofind this lawn tucked away in the woods. Or is there a housesomewhere at hand?"
"No," Lady Ruth answered, "there is nothing nearer than my cottage half amile away; and this short grass and flat piece of ground are entirelynatural. Nothing has been touched, except here and there a tree cut outto keep the borders straight. The late Lady Ashiel, the wife of myunfortunate cousin, was very fond of this place. Although it is farther,she always walked round by it when she came to see me at the cottage.That absurd statue was put up last year as a sort of memorial to her--amost unsuitable one to my mind, she being a chilly sort of woman, poordear, who always shivered if she saw so much as a hen moulting. I'm sureit would distress her terribly if she knew that poor creature over therehad to stand in the glen in all weathers, year in and year out, with onlya rag to cover her. And a stone rag at that, which is a cold material atthe best. Yes, this is only the beginning of a track which runs for milesacross the hills to the South. It is so green that you can always make itout from the heights, and there are all sorts of legends about it. It issupposed to be the road over which the clans drove back the cattle theycaptured in the old days when they were always raiding each other. Theyhave a name for it In the Gaelic, which means the Green Way."
"The Green Way," Gimblet repeated mechanically. For a moment his brainrevolved with wild imaginings.
"Yes," repeated Lady Ruth. "Sometimes they call it 'The Way,' for short.It is a favourite place for picnics from Crianan. My cousin used to allowthem to come here, and the place is generally made hideous withegg-shells and paper and old bottles. One of the gardeners comes andtidies things up once a week in the summer. People are so absolutelywithout consciences."
"Is there a bull here?" cried Gimblet. He was quivering with excitement.
"Goodness gracious, I hope not!" said Lady Ruth. "Do you see any cattle?I can't bear those long-horned Highlanders!"
"No," said Gimblet. "I thought perhaps--But what is the statue? Thedesign, surely, is rather a strange one for the place."
"Most extraordinary," assented Lady Ruth. "He got it in Italy and had itsent the whole way by sea. It took all the king's horses and all theking's men to get it up here, I can tell you. And, as I say, nothingless apropos can one possibly imagine. That poor thin female with suchvery scanty clothing is hardly a cheerful object on a Scotch winter'sday, and as for those little naked imps they would make anyone shiver,even in August."
They had drawn near the sculptured group. It consisted of the slightlydraped figure of a girl, bending over an open box, or casket, from whicha crowd of small creatures, apparently, as Lady Ruth had said, imps orfairies, were scrambling and leaping forth.
Gimblet gazed at it intently, as if he had never seen a statuebefore. In a moment his face cleared and he turned to Lady Ruth withburning eyes.
"It is Pandora," he cried. "Curiosity! Pandora and her box. Is itnot Pandora?"
Lady Ruth stared at him amazed.
"I believe it is," she said, "that or something of the sort. I'm not verywell up in mythology."
"Of course it is," cried Gimblet. "Face curiosity! And here's the bull,or I'll eat my microscope," he added, advancing to the side of the groupand laying a hand upon the pedestal.
Lady Ruth followed his gaze with some concern. She was beginning to doubthis sanity. But there, sure enough, beneath his pointing finger, sheperceived a row of carved heads: the heads of bulls, garlanded in theRoman manner, and forming a kind of cornice round the top of the greatrectangular stone stand.
Gimblet glanced to right and left, up the glen and down it. There was noone to be seen. The sun had fallen by this time beneath the rim of thehills; a greyness of twilight was spread over the whole scene, and underthe trees the dusk of night was already silently ousting the day. Heturned once more to Lady Ruth.
"Lady Ruth," he said, "can you keep a secret?"
"My husband trusted me," she replied. "He was judicious as well asjudicial."
"I am sure I may follow his example," Gimblet said, after looking at herfixedly for a moment. "So I will tell you that I believe I am on thepoint of discovering Lord Ashiel's missing will--and not that alone.Somewhere, concealed probably within a few feet of where we are standing,we may hope to find other and far more important documents, involving,perhaps, not only the welfare of one or two individuals but that ofkings and nations. Apart from that, and to speak of what most immediatelyconcerns us at present, I am convinced that within this stone will befound the true clue to the author of the murder."
"You don't say so," gasped Lady Ruth, her round eyes rounder than ever.
"I found some directions in the handwriting of the murdered man," went onGimblet, "which I could not understand at first. But their meaning isplain enough now. 'Take the bull by the horn,' he says. Well, here arethe bulls, and I shall soon know which is the horn."
He walked round to the front of the statue, so that he faced the stoopingfigure of Pandora, and laid his hand upon one of the curved andprojecting horns of the left-hand bull. Nothing happened, and he triedthe next. There were seven heads in all along the face of the great block,and he tested six of them without perceiving anything unusual. Was itpossible that he was mistaken, and that, after all, the words of themessage did not refer to the statue?
When he grasped the first horn of the last head, the hand that did so wasshaking with excitement and suspense. It seemed, like the rest, topossess no attribute other than mere decoration. And yet, and yet--surelyhe had missed some vital point. He would go over them again. Thereremained, however, the last horn, and as he took hold of it with apremonitory dread of disappointment, he felt that it was loose in itssocket, and that he could by an effort turn it completely over. With atriumphant cry he twisted it round, and at the same moment Lady Ruthstarted back with an exclamation of alarm.
She was standing where he had left her, and was nearly knocked down bythe great slab of stone which, as Gimblet turned the horn of the bull,swung sharply out from the end of the pediment, till it hung like a doorinvitingly open and disclosing a hollow chamber within the stone.
Within the opening, on the floor at the far end, stood a large tindespatch-box.
The door was a good eighteen inches wide; plenty of room for Gimblet toclimb in, swollen with exultation though he might be. In less than threeseconds he had scrambled through the aperture and was stooping over thebox. It seemed to be locked, but a key lay on the top of the lid. He lostno time in inserting it, and in a moment threw open the case and saw thatit was full of papers.
Suddenly there was another cry from Lady Ruth as, for no apparent causeand without the slightest warning, the stone door slammed itself backinto position, and he was left a prison
er in the total darkness of thevault. He groped his way to the doorway and pushed against it with allhis strength. He might as well have tried to move the side of a mountain.But, after an interval long enough for him to have time to becomeseriously uneasy, the door flew open again, and the agitated countenanceof Lady Ruth welcomed him to the outside world.
"Do get out quick," she cried. "If it does it again while you're half inand half out, you'll be cracked in two as neatly as a walnut."
Gimblet hurried out, clutching the precious box. No sooner was he safelystanding on the turf than the door shut again with a violence that gavePandora the appearance of shaking with convulsions of silent merriment.
"I wasn't sure how it opened," said Lady Ruth, "but I tried all the hornsand got it right at last. How lucky I was with you!"
"Yes, indeed," said Gimblet. "I am very thankful you were."
They twisted the horn again, and stood together to watch the recurringphenomenon of the closing door.
"It must be worked by clockwork," the detective said, and taking out hiswatch he timed the interval that elapsed between the opening andshutting. "It stays open for thirty seconds," he remarked after two orthree experiments. "No doubt the mechanism is concealed in the thicknessof the stone. At all events it seems to be in good working order."
Squatting on the grass, he opened the tin box, and examined the paperswith which it was filled. A glance showed him that they were what heexpected, and he replaced the box where he had found it, while Lady Ruthmanipulated the horn of the bull.
"I have no right to the papers," he explained to her, as they walkedhomeward in the gathering dusk. "It would be more satisfactory if amagistrate were present at the official opening of the statue, and I willsee what can be done about that to-morrow. In the meantime, andconsidering that we have been interfering with other people's property, Ishall be much obliged if you will keep our discovery secret."
And talking in low, earnest tones, he explained to her more fully allthat was likely to be implied by the papers they had unearthed.
The Ashiel mystery: A Detective Story Page 15
