The Ashiel Mystery - Mrs. Charles Bryce (novels to improve english TXT) 📗

the bed to have a chance of getting a shot. So I got

the long plank the gardeners use to avoid stepping on the flower beds

when they're bedding out, from the tool-house behind the holly hedge

where I knew it was kept, and put it down near the hedge. It is held up

clear of the ground by two cross pieces of wood, one at each end, you

know, so there would be no marks left to identify me by.

 

"When I walked to the end of the plank, I could see straight into the

middle of the room; but they must have been sitting near the fire, for no

one was in sight. I could see the writing bureau and the chair in front

of it, and dimly in the back of the room I could make out the face of the

clock, but that was all.

 

"Well, I stood there for what seemed a long while. You've no idea how

cramping it is to stand on a narrow plank with no room to take a step

forward or back, for long at a time. And I don't mind telling you I got a

bit jumpy, waiting there. If anyone chanced to come along, what could I

say by way of explanation? I couldn't think of anything the least likely

to wash. And somehow, in the dark, one begins to imagine things. I saw

David coming at me across the lawn every other minute. And it seemed so

hideously likely that he should come. I knew he was somewhere out in the

grounds. By Jove, if he had, he'd have got the bullet instead of Uncle

Douglas! But he didn't come. Those beastly shadows and shapes and

whisperings and rustlings that seemed to be all round me, hiding in the

night, turned out to be nothing after all. But when I didn't fancy him at

my elbow, I imagined he was in the gunroom, wondering where the dickens

my rifle had got to.

 

"Oh, I had a happy half-hour among the roses, I tell you! A rifle is a

heavy thing too. I leant it up against a rose-bush and tried to sit down

on the plank, but it wouldn't do, and I saw I must bear it standing, or

Uncle Douglas might cross in front of the slit between the curtains

without my having time to get a shot. You must remember I'd been on the

hill all day, so that I was very stiff to begin with. It got so bad that

I began to think it was hardly worth the candle at last--and it's a

wonder I didn't miss him clean--when, just as I was on the point of

giving the whole thing up and going in again, he came suddenly into my

field of vision, and actually sat down at the table.

 

"I took a careful aim and fired. I saw him fall forward, and then I

jumped off the plank and hurled it back under the hedge before I ran for

the house. I had left the door ajar, and I just stayed to close it, and

then darted into the empty billiard-room and thrust my rifle under a

sofa. It was a quick bit of work. I had counted on Juliet Byrne waiting a

moment or two to see if she could do anything to help him before she

roused the house, or it roused itself, and she was rather longer than I

expected. I don't mind owning I got into a panic when minutes passed and

no one appeared, and I began to think I must have missed the old boy

altogether. I was within an ace of going to make certain, when the door

opened and in she came. Oh well, you know all the rest. That silly old

ass, David, was still mooning about in the garden, thinking of her, I

suppose, which was very lucky for me."

 

Julia had listened with absorbed interest.

 

"I think it is wonderful," she said, "that you should have gone through

all that for my sake. I shall always try to deserve it, my dear. Was it

all, all for me, that you did it, truly?"

 

"Yes," Mark assured her, gruffly monosyllabic.

 

"But how was it," she asked caressingly, "that Sir David's footprints

were found all over the rose-bed. What was he doing there?"

 

"That was an afterthought," Mark admitted. "It was a tophole idea. After

every one had gone upstairs, I crept down and got my Mannlicher from

where I had hidden it, and took it to the gun-room, where I cleaned it

and put it in its usual place. It was lucky for me that David had left

his weapon dirty. It was jolly unlike him to do it. I was thinking what a

good thing it was, and how well things looked like turning out--for I

thought I could manage the girl if she was able to prove that she really

was a McConachan--and it struck me I ought to be able to contrive that

the business should look a bit blacker against poor old David. Every one

knew he'd had a row with Uncle Douglas about his beastly dog, and if I

could only manufacture a little more evidence against him I knew I should

be pretty safe, one way and another. I was going back to the garden to

put by the gardener's plank, when I thought of using his boots. It didn't

take long to find them among all the boots used that day by the

household, which were ranged in a row in the place where they clean them

in the back premises. His bootmakers' name was in them. I took them, and

when I got to the garden door I put them on, and went out and trampled

about among the roses till I was pretty sure that even the blindest

country bobby couldn't fail to notice the tracks I'd left, though of

course I couldn't see them myself in the dark. Then I got the plank out

of the hedge and put it away where I'd found it. After that, I took the

boots back, and went to bed; and very glad I was to get there. Now you've

heard the whole story."

 

"How clever you are," murmured the girl. "There's no one like you," she

said, "no one." Mark smiled rather fatuously. He evidently shared her

opinion that his brains were something slightly out of the way. "And

everything happened just as you'd planned," she went on admiringly. "They

suspected Sir David from the first. I should have, myself, if I hadn't

known it was you who had done it."

 

"Yes," said Mark, "they suspected him, the silly idiots! They might have

known he hasn't the initiative to do a thing like that. And the girl

can't prove her relationship to Uncle Douglas, just as I expected. I

thought there might be some difficulty about that. But I wish I could

find the will he made in her favour. I should feel safer then, for she

told me he said he'd worded it so that she should get the money whether

she was proved his daughter or not. And who knows what other mad clauses

he may have put in it. Lately, for some reason I could never make out, I

felt sure he had changed towards me. He let fall a hint one day that his

legacies to me were conditional on my good behaviour. I don't feel easy

about it at all. Some one must have been telling him things--poisoning

his mind. But I've hunted high and low, and found nothing. I'm sick of

looking over musty old bills."

 

"Oh, we shall find it between us now," said Julia hopefully. "I wish I

had some idea where the list I want is, though," she added.

 

"There's that detective, too," pursued Mark. "That fellow Gimblet. I'm

rather fed up with him. Not that he seems any use at his work, though

he's supposed to be rather first-class at it, I believe."

 

"Gimblet! Is that who it is? Mrs. Clutsam told me a London detective

was here, but I didn't know who it was. I have met him before, and

found him very easy to manage. I don't think you need be afraid of

anything he may do."

 

"I shall be glad when he's off the place, anyhow," said Mark.

 

"I shall be glad when the whole business is over and forgotten," Julia

rejoined. "I wish we could be married at once, Mark darling. But why

can't it be given out that we are engaged. I don't understand why we

should keep it a secret now. I can't stand seeing so little of you as I

have these last few days."

 

"Be patient, darling, wait just a little longer. There are reasons, as I

have told you. I must get my financial affairs straight, for one thing,

before I allow you to tie yourself to me. Suppose I turn out to be a

beggar? I couldn't let you marry me then, you know."

 

"Mark!" Julia's voice was full of reproach. "You know perfectly well how

little I care about your money. I would be only too glad to marry you if

you hadn't a penny. But perhaps you mean that if you were poor you

wouldn't want to burden yourself with a wife?"

 

"You know how I adore you, Julia. How can you suggest such a thing? I

couldn't even dream of a life without you. You show how little you know

But, believe me, it is wisest to wait a short time longer before we

are publicly engaged. You must take my word for it, and not made me

unhappy by imagining such cruel things. Come, let us look for this list

of yours. What were you doing--searching among the books?"

 

"Yes," said she, rising, as he went towards a bookshelf, and following

him. "I thought it might be hidden between the leaves of one of these old

volumes. One reads of such things."

 

"I wonder," he said absently. "The will, too, may be here. Is there a

Bible anywhere? I believe that's a favourite place of concealment. Then,

when the heir is virtuous and reads his Bible, he gets the legacy, you

know; while, if he isn't, he doesn't. A sort of poetic justice is meted

out. If I find it in that way I shall take it as a sign that I am really

the virtuous one and that Heaven absolves me from all blame."

 

He spoke mockingly, but Julia answered very seriously:

 

"Of course you ought to have it; and if I don't blame you, why should

anyone else?"

 

"Well," he said after a pause, "at all events I mean to get it, whether

or no, if I have to pull down every stone of the place. That reminds me,"

he added, "where is the secret entrance you use? Through this old clock?

Who would have thought it?"

 

In a moment Juliet realized that she was going to be caught. She had

been so absorbed in listening to the dreadful revelations that had been

made during the last half-hour that not till now had she considered how

dangerous was her position.

 

As he spoke, Mark threw open the door of the clock case. Too late, she

turned to fly; he caught her by the arm and, with a stifled oath, dragged

her into the room.

 

"How long have you been there?" he cried, and fell to swearing horribly;

while Julia stood by, not speaking, but looking at Juliet with an

expression which frightened her more than all his violence.

CHAPTER XX

 

It did not occur to Juliet to deny that she had overheard their talk. She

had been found in the act of spying on them, and it was inconceivable

that they should believe she had not done so. Besides, she was raging at

the thought of what she had heard, and her anger gave her a courage she

might otherwise have found it hard to maintain.

 

"I have been there all the time," she declared stoutly. "I heard all you

said, you