The Ashiel Mystery, Mrs. Charles Bryce [e novels to read online .txt] 📗
- Author: Mrs. Charles Bryce
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shake it, turn over the leaves, and put it back in its place after
groping with her hand at the back of the shelf. Plainly she was hunting
for something. But for what? She had no business where she was, in any
case, and Juliet's indignation gathered and swelled within her as she
watched this unwarrantable intrusion.
She would confront the girl and ask her what she meant by such behaviour.
But how to get into the library?
Looking about her, she saw that the streak of light in the wall beside
her came through a perpendicular crack which might well be the edge of a
little door.
She pushed gently and the wood yielded to her fingers.
CHAPTER XVIII
Later on in the afternoon, when Gimblet arrived at the castle, he was
immediately shown into the presence of Lord Ashiel, who was pacing the
smoking-room restlessly, a cigarette between his teeth. He looked pale
and haggard, the strain of the last few days had evidently been too
much for him.
Gimblet greeted him sympathetically.
"You have not found your uncle's will, I can see," he began, "and you are
fretting at the idea of keeping his daughter out of her fortune. But set
your mind at rest; we shall be able to put that right. Is she here, by
the way?" he added, remembering Lady Ruth's anxiety.
"Here, of course not! What do you mean?" cried Mark, stopping suddenly
in his walk.
"Well, I was sure she was not," Gimblet replied, "but I promised to ask.
Lady Ruth is rather upset because Miss Byrne did not come in to lunch. I
told her she had probably gone for a longer walk than had been her
intention," he added soothingly, for Mark was looking at him with a
disturbed expression.
He seemed relieved, however, by the detective's suggestion.
"Yes, no doubt, that would be the reason," he murmured, lighting a fresh
cigarette, and throwing himself down in an easy-chair, with his hands
clasped behind his head. "No, I haven't found any will, and there's not
a corner left that I haven't turned inside out. I suppose he never really
made it. Just talked about it, probably, as people are so fond of doing.
And now I'm at a loose end; all alone in this big house with no one to
speak to and nothing to do with myself. It's a beast of a day, or I
should go out and try for a salmon, in self-defence. To-morrow I shall go
South. And you, have you found out anything new about the murder yet?"
"I have found out one thing which you will be glad to hear," said
Gimblet, "and that is the place where the missing will is concealed."
"What!" cried Mark, leaping to his feet. "Where is it? What does it say?
Give it to me!"
"I haven't got it," Gimblet told him. "I don't know what it says, but I
know where to look for it. It is in the statue your uncle put up on the
track known as the Green Way. I have found a memorandum of his which sets
the matter beyond a doubt."
And he related at length the story of the half-sheet of paper with the
mysterious writing, and of how he had learnt by accident of the manner in
which the statue fitted in with the obscure directions, omitting nothing
except the fact that he had already acted on the information so far as to
make certain of the actual existence of the tin box, and saying that he
should prefer the papers to be brought to light in the presence of a
magistrate.
"I believe there are other documents there besides the will," he said,
without troubling to explain what excellent reasons he had for such a
belief. "I understood from your uncle that there might be some of an
almost international importance. In case any dispute should subsequently
arise about them, I wish to have more than one reliable witness to their
being found. Can you send a man over to the lodge at Glenkliquart, and
ask General Tenby to come back with him. I am told that he is a
magistrate."
Gimblet did not think it necessary to relate how he had obtained
possession of the sheet of paper bearing the injunction to "face
curiosity." His adventures on that night savoured too strongly of
house-breaking to be drawn attention to.
"Your uncle must have posted it to me in London the day before he died,"
he said mendaciously. "It was forwarded here, and at first I could make
neither head nor tail of it."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Mark asked impatiently. "And yet," he added
reflecting, "I might not have seen to what it referred. Yes, of course I
will send over for General Tenby. He can't come for three or four hours,
though, which will make it rather late. Are you sure we had not better
open the thing sooner? The bull's horn at the south-east corner turns
like a key, you say? Suppose some one else finds that out and makes off
with whatever may be hidden there."
"I am absolutely sure we needn't fear anything of the sort, because I
have the best of reasons for being positive that no one has the slightest
inkling of the secret," Gimblet assured him. "There is a whole gang of
scoundrels after the document of which your uncle told me, who are ready
to spend any money, or risk any penalty, in order to obtain it. They will
not be deterred even by having to pay for it with their lives. You may be
quite sure that if anyone had suspected where it was concealed, it would
not have been allowed to remain there, and we should find the _cache_
empty. But we may safely argue that they have not found it, since in that
case they certainly would not hang about the neighbourhood."
"Do you mean to say," cried Mark, "that you think there are any of
these Nihilist people lurking about? That letter which came for
Uncle Douglas--the letter from Paris--I guessed it meant something
of the sort."
"There is a foreigner staying at Crianan," said Gimblet, "whom I have
every reason to suspect. More than that, there has been a Russian in your
very midst who, I am afraid, you will be shocked to hear, is hand in
glove with him."
"Whom do you mean?" exclaimed Mark, "not--not Julia Romaninov?" It seemed
to the detective that he winced as he uttered the name of the girl.
Silently Gimblet bowed his head, and for a minute the two men stood
without a word. "Then," stammered Mark, "you think that she--that
she--Oh," he cried, "I can hardly believe that!"
Gimblet did not reply, but after a few moments walked over to the
writing-table and spread out a piece of notepaper. He kept his back
turned towards the young man, who seemed thankful for an opportunity to
recover his composure.
His face was still working nervously, however, when at length the
detective turned and held out a pen towards him.
"Will you not write at once to General Tenby?" he suggested.
Mark sat down before the blotting-pad.
"He will be at home," he said mechanically. "This weather will have
driven them in early if they have been shooting."
The note was written and dispatched by a groom on horseback, and then
Gimblet bade au revoir to his host at the door of the castle.
"I will go back to the cottage," he said; "I have an accumulation of
correspondence that absolutely must be attended to, and I do not think
there is anything to be done up here before General Tenby comes. Once we
have the Nihilist papers in our hands I have a little plan by which I
think our birds may be trapped. Will you meet me at the cottage at
half-past six? The General will have to pass it on the way to
Inverashiel, and we can stop him as he goes by."
"It will be about seven o'clock, I expect," said Mark, "when he gets down
from Glenkliquart. I'll be with you before he is. The Lord knows how I
shall get through the time till he comes. I loathe writing letters, but
this afternoon I'm dashed if I don't almost envy you and your
correspondence."
"I know it is the waiting that tells on one," Gimblet said, his voice
full of kindly sympathy. "What you want is to get right away from this
place. Its associations must be horrible to you. No one could really be
astonished if you never set foot in it again."
Mark laughed rather bitterly.
"That's just what I feel like," he said shortly. "My uncle killed; my
cousin arrested; my friend accused. Miss Byrne refusing to let me behave
decently to her about the money. Oh well," he pulled himself up, and
spoke in a more guarded tone, "one gets used to everything in time, no
doubt, but just at present, I'm afraid, I am rather depressing company.
See you later."
They went their ways, Gimblet going forth into the drenching rain which
was now falling down the road, through the soaking woodlands to the
cottage, where the Crianan policemen still smoked their pipes
undisturbed. Lady Ruth met him at the gate, running down in her
waterproof when she saw him approaching.
"Where is Juliet?" she cried. "Wasn't she at Inverashiel?"
"Hasn't she come back?" asked Gimblet, answering her question by another.
"No sign of her. What can have happened? Mr. Gimblet, I am really getting
dreadfully anxious. She must have gone on to the hills and lost her way
in the mist."
"She is sure to get back in time," Gimblet tried to reassure her, though
he himself was beginning to wonder at the girl's absence. "Perhaps," he
added, "she is at Mrs. Clutsam's. I daresay that's the truth of it."
"She can't be there," Lady Ruth answered. "Mrs. Clutsam told me she was
going out all day, to-day, to visit her husband's sister who is staying
somewhere twenty miles from here on the Oban road, and longing, of
course, to hear all about the murder at first hand. Relations are so
exacting, and if they are relations-in-law they become positive Shylocks.
Juliet may have gone to the lodge though, all the same, and stayed to
keep the Romaninov girl company."
She seemed to be satisfied with this explanation; and Gimblet had tea
with her, and then went to write his letters.
Soon after six one of the policemen went down to the high road to lie in
wait for General Tenby, and about twenty minutes past the hour wheels
rattled on the gravel of the short carriage-drive, and the General drove
up to the door. He was a tall, soldierly-looking man of between fifty and
sixty, with a red face and a keen blue eye, and a precise, jerky manner.
"Ah, Lady Ruth! Glad to see you bearing up so well under these tragic
circumstances," he said, shaking hands with that lady, who came to the
door to welcome him. "Poor Ashiel ought to have had shutters to his
windows. Dreadful mistake, no shutters: lets in draughts and colds in the
head, if nothing worse. These old houses are all the same. No safety in
them from anything. Young McConachan wrote me an urgent note to come
over. Don't quite see what for, but here I am. Eh? What do you say? Oh,
detective from London, is it? How d'ye do? Perhaps you can tell me what
the programme is?"
"Young Lord Ashiel promised to meet us here at half-past six," Gimblet
told him. "We expect to put our hands on some important documents, and I
was anxious you should be present."
"Quite unnecessary. Absolutely ridiculous. Still, here I am. May as well
come along."
The General went on talking to Lady Ruth, but after a few minutes the
inspector from Crianan sent in to ask if he could speak to him, and they
retired together to Lady Ruth's little private sitting-room, where they
remained closeted for some time. While the old soldier was listening to
what the policeman had to tell him, Gimblet began to show signs of
restlessness.
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