Читать книгу Murder of a Lady - Robert McNair Wilson - Страница 7

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An uneasy silence filled the room. Dundas broke it.

“There’s one question,” he remarked, “that I wish to ask before I go upstairs. It’s this: Did you expect your son to return last night?”

“We expected him to return soon.”

“Please answer my question.”

“We did not know that he was coming last night.”

“How did he come?”

“By motor-boat.”

“What?”

Duchlan’s eyes flashed again.

“He came by motor-boat.”

“Is that the quickest way?”

“You must ask him that yourself.”

Dr. Hailey accompanied Dundas to Miss Gregor’s room. Before they entered the room the policeman told him that he proposed to conduct the investigation single-handed.

“I know very well, Doctor,” he said, “how big your reputation is as an amateur detective. And I’m, of course, indebted to you for the preliminary work you’ve done here. I shall be honoured if you agree to stand by me during the examination of witnesses. But I mean to ride the horse myself. There must be no independent lines of inquiry.”

He paused, having observed the flush which had risen to his companion’s cheeks.

“Very well.”

“Please don’t be angry. Put yourself in my place. This is the chance of my life. I’ll never get another if I fail. And I’m a solitary worker. Can’t go in double harness. Can’t concentrate if ideas are brought to me. My mind runs on its own scents, so to speak. So I say, ‘Come with me, but don’t confuse me.’ And don’t run on ahead of me. That’s not being rude. It’s being honest.” The man’s face was so earnest that the tactlessness of his address was discounted. The doctor smiled.

“I’m to have a seat on the bench, so to speak?” he asked in genial tones.

“Exactly. As a distinguished stranger.”

“And if I decline that honour?”

“I’ll be sorry. But not so sorry as if you had begun to work on the case independently of me.”

Dr. Hailey nodded assent.

“I’m staying for another week at Darroch Mor,” he said. “You may command my services at any time during that period.”

“You won’t come here at all?”

“No.”

Dr. Hailey’s habitual good-humour had reasserted itself. His large face expressed neither hostility nor contempt. It was not, perhaps, at any time an expressive face, but there was a gentleness in its aspect which conveyed its own message. The man compelled confidence and liking without moving a muscle.

“I do hope you’ll make a great success,” he said in quiet tones. “Nobody knows better than I do how much success in cases of this kind is conditioned by chance. It’s like playing Bridge; a bad hand may discount the greatest ability.”

“Oh, yes, one realizes that.”

Dundas spoke in tones which suggested that his luck had not, so far, deserted him. But his manner had changed nevertheless. He opened a gun-metal cigarette-case and offered it with a smile that conveyed the suggestion of a wish to be friendly.

“I feel,” he apologized, “that you may think I’ve been rude and ungrateful. It isn’t that. Crime is your hobby; it’s my business. If you fail, nobody’s going to blame you; if I fail somebody else will be sent the next time.” He paused. “And there’s another point. If you work with me and we find our man, the credit will go to you, no matter how modest you may be. The public loves amateurs. Credit is the goodwill of my business. It’s my only possession.”

“I understand perfectly. Believe me, I didn’t thrust myself in here.”

Dundas nodded.

“What do you think of the case?” he asked suddenly.

The doctor met this advance with a smile which conveyed a gentle rebuke.

“My dear sir, if I told you shouldn’t I be prejudicing your judgement?” he asked.

He smiled again when the detective’s face reddened.

“All the same,” Dundas exclaimed, “I’d like to know your opinion, that is, if you’ve formed any opinion at all.”

Dr. Hailey shook his head.

“I haven’t formed any opinion. When you arrived I was listening to Duchlan talking about his sister. The only clear idea I obtained from that recital was that Miss Gregor ruled this house with a heavy hand. Her brother appears to have allowed her to do exactly what she liked; he had no ideas, I think, except her ideas. Now that she’s dead, he seems to be clinging to her ideas and precepts like a disciple who has lost his master. He can’t endure the slightest criticism of them.”

Dundas raised his eyebrows. It was clear that he saw no help in these personal details.

“I’m afraid,” he confessed, “that my concern must be with those who wanted Miss Gregor out of the way, not with those who find it difficult to live without her.”

They parted. The doctor descended the staircase. It was the first time, he reflected, that he had been dismissed from a case. But he meant to abide by his decision. He told Duchlan and the others frankly how the matter stood.

“Dundas is like that,” Mr. McLeod said in tones of regret. “He always wants to do everything himself. So far, I’ll admit, he’s had the luck on his side.”

“Let us hope it won’t desert him.”

John MacCallien rose to go. He held out his hand to Duchlan.

“You know how distressed I feel,” he said. “This policeman, I’m afraid, is an additional burden.”

“Thank you, John.” Duchlan turned to Dr. Hailey. “Believe me, my gratitude is very real. I’m sorry that you have not been able to continue your inquiry.” He shook his head as he spoke. But in spite of the melancholy expression on his face the doctor had the same impression he had experienced when taking leave of Dundas. The laird of Duchlan, no less than the policeman from Glasgow, was glad to see him go. Duchlan rose and glanced at the clock. Then he took a thin gold watch from his pocket and looked at that, too.

“Shall I send for the car?” he asked John MacCallien.

“No, please don’t.”

“Then may I walk with you as far as the lodge? I feel that I need air.”

“My dear Duchlan, it’s very late. Do you think you ought to venture out?”

“Ah, what hurts me is sitting here, alone.”

The moon had come westward, and was high above their heads as they emerged from the Castle. In this light the sham medievalism of the building was tolerable largely because one could no longer see it. There had happened at Duchlan what happened all over the Highlands when the lairds became rich in the middle of the nineteenth century, namely, an attempt to turn the old bare house of the chiefs of the clan into a feudal castle on the English model. Turrets, balustrades, and the rest of the paraphernalia of baronialism had been heaped about a dwelling formerly humble and beautiful, to the profit of the local builder and the loss of the community.

The old man walked slowly and the journey to the lodge took a long time. John MacCallien tried, once or twice, to talk but failed to awaken any response. Dr. Hailey noticed that each time Duchlan stopped, and he stopped frequently, he turned and looked out, across the loch. On these occasions he seemed to be listening. Once, when a seabird screeched, he dropped his walking-stick. The doctor began to observe him and soon made up his mind that this excursion was predetermined. But to what was he listening? The night was still and without voice.

“My sister delighted in this walk,” he told his companions. “She had travelled widely but maintained that the view from the north lodge was the most beautiful she had seen. I like to think that she may be watching us now.”

He addressed Dr. Hailey. “We Highland folk,” he said in low tones, “partake of the spirit of our hills and lochs. That’s the secret of what the Lowlanders, who will never understand us, call our pride. Yes, we have pride; but the pride of blood, of family; of our dear land. Highlanders are ready to die for their pride.”

It was gently spoken, but in accents which thrilled. Duchlan, clearly, was assured of the reality of those ideas on which his life was based. He had marched all the way to fanaticism; but, your fanatic, the doctor reflected, is ever a sceptic at heart.

They reached the lodge. The old man struck a match and looked at his watch.

“It’s two o’clock,” he announced, “or so I make it. What do you say, Doctor?”

“I’m afraid my watch has stopped.”

John MacCallien held his wrist up to the moon.

“Yes,” he declared, “just two o’clock precisely.”

“I bid you good morning, gentlemen.”

Duchlan bowed ceremoniously and turned back. They watched him until his figure could no longer be distinguished from the shadows.

John MacCallien was about to pass through the lodge gates when the doctor put his hand on his arm.

“I should like to see Duchlan reach home,” he said.

“Oh, he’s on his own ground, you know.”

“Listen, my dear fellow. You go back to Darroch Mor and leave the front door on the latch for me. I’ll follow as soon as I’ve satisfied myself that everything’s all right.”

“I’ll come with you.”

The doctor shook his head.

“Forgive me, if I say that I would rather go alone. And allow me to postpone explanations.”

“My dear Hailey.”

“I have good reasons for what I’m doing.”

John MacCallien belonged to that rare type which is content to leave other folk to conduct their affairs in their own way. He nodded, took out his pipe, and began to fill it.

“Very well.”

Dr. Hailey left him and hurried along the avenue after Duchlan. As he had foreseen, the old man was capable of walking fast when occasion required. He did not come up with him. When he reached the castle, he assured himself that Duchlan had not returned home; the light was still burning in the window of the study and the room was empty. Very cautiously, he approached the lighted window without, however, crossing the flower-bed which separated it from the carriage-way.

Where had the old man gone? He walked along the front of the house, passing from the carriage-way to the steep bank which he had seen from Miss Gregor’s window. He descended the bank, keeping a sharp look-out to right and left. But he reached the burn without seeing anybody.

The stream broadened out above the jetty. It was high tide and the water was deep. He had an excellent view of the motor-boat. He raised his eyeglass to determine if there was anyone aboard and concluded that there was nobody. He thought of walking down the jetty and then decided against a course which must make him conspicuous to anybody standing among the trees on the far side of the burn. Doubts of the process of reasoning which had brought him back to the castle began to assail him; but when he recalled that process he put them away. Duchlan had fussed with his watch both before leaving the castle and at the lodge gate. He had been at pains to impress on the minds of his companions that two o’clock had struck before he left them. The inference seemed justified that he was anxious that some event, timed to occur at two o’clock, should not be laid to his account.

A twig snapped amongst the trees on the opposite side of the burn. Dr. Hailey turned and stood listening. He heard a window being opened. He crouched down. Footsteps approached and passed. Then the moonlight showed him a woman descending towards the jetty.

She walked slowly, seeming to linger at every step. He could see that she was young. As she approached the end of the jetty she stood and turned. The moon gave him a view of her face and he observed the tense, strained poise of her head. Suddenly she raised her arms and stretched them out towards the castle. She remained in this attitude for several seconds. Then her arms fell to her side and she turned to the water which shone and glimmered round the pier at her feet. A sound, like a subdued cough, which seemed to come from close at hand, made him turn his head and gaze into the shadows across the burn. A splash recalled him. The woman had disappeared.