The Ashiel mystery: A Detective Story by Mrs. Charles Bryce (red seas under red skies TXT) 📗

id="id01408">"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 me. 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 wicked, wicked man. A murderer! Oh, how horrible it all is!"

Julia laid a hand on Mark's arm.

"She will tell what she knows," she said, trembling.

"She shall not," Mark stammered furiously. He seemed to be half suffocating with rage. "She shall not go unless she swears to say nothing. Swear it, I say!"

He seized Juliet by the shoulder and shook her violently to emphasize his words.

"I won't swear anything of the kind," she retorted, trying to break from his grasp. "Do you suppose you can kill me, too, without being found out? There is a detective here now, and Sir David Southern is not at hand to lay the blame on. You coward! How dare you touch me!"

The truth of her words seemed to strike home to Mark, for he left go of her suddenly, and stood, biting his nails and scowling, the picture of irresolution and malignance.

Juliet lost no time in following up any advantage she might have gained.

"I can't help knowing that you care for him," she said, addressing herself to Julia, "though I wouldn't have listened to that part if I could have helped it. But how can you? How can you? I can't understand how you can feel as you do about killing people, but at least if you did such a thing you would imagine it was for the good of your country, while this man thinks of nothing but his own selfish ends. Money, that is all he wants! How can you condone such a crime as his? To kill Lord Ashiel, that good, kind man who had treated him like a son all his life, who did everything for him. And just for the sake of money! It's not even as if he wanted it really. He's not starving. He had everything, in reason, that he wanted. If he needed more, urgently, I believe he had only to tell his uncle, and it would have been given to him. Oh, it is beyond all words! He must be a fiend."

Indignation choked her. She spoke in bursts of trembling anger, her words sounding tamely in her own ears. All she could say seemed commonplace and inadequate beside the knowledge that this man was her father's murderer.

Even Julia, indifferent to every aspect of the case that did not touch upon her relations with her lover, was shaken by the scornful disgust with which the broken sentences were poured forth; and, if her infatuation for Mark was too complete to allow her to consider any action of his unjustifiable, still she realized, perhaps for the first time, the feelings with which other people would view the thing that he had done.

"You don't understand him," she faltered. "He didn't want money for himself alone. It was for me he did it. He was too proud to ask me to marry a poor man. You could never understand his love for me. How can I blame him? How many men would run such risks for the girl they loved? I am proud, yes proud, to be loved like that!"

"You believe his lies," Juliet cried contemptuously. "You believe he loves you so much? Why it is not two days since he came to me and asked me to marry him."

"What!" Julia spoke in a panting whisper. Her face had suddenly lost every particle of colour. "Say it's not true," she begged, turning miserably to the man.

He made an effort to deny the charge.

"Of course. Not a word of truth in it. Damned nonsense," he blustered.

But his eyes fell before Juliet's scornful gaze, and Julia was not deceived.

"It can't be true, oh, it can't," she moaned. "No man could be so vile."

"No other man could," Juliet amended. In spite of herself she was sorry for the girl, whose stricken face showed plainly the anguish she was undergoing. "Forget him, Julia; he is not worthy to tie your shoe-lace. He came to me after they had taken David away, and asked me first if I would take his inheritance even though I couldn't prove my birth, which he must have known perfectly that I should never dream of doing, and then proposed I should marry him, saying that he was very fond of me, and that in that way justice would be done as regards Lord Ashiel's money, however things turned out for me. I thought it honourable and generous at the time, and so did Lady Ruth when I told her—oh yes, she knows about it and can tell you it is true—but now I see that all he wanted was to be on the safe side, and, if I had accepted him and had turned out to have no claim upon his uncle's fortune, he