Whatever the common opinion among the people of Stromness may have
been with regard to the death of Colin Lothian, there was one who,
all along, never allowed himself to doubt my innocence. Dominie
Drever had his private views on the matter, and he was not over
eager to communicate them to other persons. He even kept them from
myself in a great measure, and only gathered such information
regarding my movements as Captain Flett and my people at Lyndardy
were able to supply. There were some other aspects of the case,
quite apart from myself, that he was anxious to make clear, and
with this purpose in view he had gone quietly about the town
gathering evidence and summoning an array of important witnesses.
Not until late on this Sunday afternoon did he come to see me; and
then our interview lasted but for a few moments. Macfarlane showed
him in just as I was finishing my tea and settling myself cosily
before the fire.
"Ah, Halcro, my lad!" he exclaimed in his breezy way, "I see they
are making you comfortable here. I hope you find it no great
hardship to be cooped up here, eh? It's hardly so bad as your
experience on the Falcon, I should think?"
"No, sir, and I hope it will not last so long either," I said,
taking the hand he offered me.
"Little fear o' that," said he. "Mr. Duke will send you home i' the
morning; but it's as well you should stay here until the evidence
is complete. Bailie Thomson will not agree to your being set at
liberty before the inquiry."
"And when is the inquiry to be?" I asked.
"At ten o'clock tomorrow morning," said Mr. Drever. "You see,
Halcro, they're not to put you on your trial in any formal way.
That could only take place at Kirkwall, or before the procurator
fiscal. But the roads are all blocked wi' snow, and there's no
getting to Kirkwall just now. Even the St. Magnus smugglers, and
another gang that Mr. Fox arrested yestreen up at Sandwick, have to
be imprisoned here until the roads are opened up. But it will be
easy to prove your innocence. Thora will make that perfectly clear,
as ye will see."
"Thora!" I exclaimed. "Then Thora has been found?"
"Found! certainly. She never was lost. However, ye'll hear all
about that matter again. Just leave it all to me, Halcro, and dinna
be downcast about biding here another night. But I must away now.
Good e'en to ye!"
"Good e'en, sir!"
The good man was leaving me abruptly, when at the door he turned
back.
"Oh, Halcro!" said he, as though suddenly remembering something,
"they tell me that your viking's stone has been amissing. Have ye
heard anything of it yet?"
"Why, yes, Mr. Drever," I replied. "I found it at the head of the
Gaulton Cliff on Saturday."
"Just so," said he smiling, "I had heard that. Now that stone may
be wanted in evidence. Would you mind letting me have it?"
"Here it is, sir," I said, handing it to him.
And taking it with him, he left me to my thoughts.
The morning of the inquiry came round, and at about ten o'clock
Jimmy Macfarlane opened the door of my place of confinement and
beckoned me to follow him. He conducted me through a long passage
into a large room adjoining the prison house.
It was a comfortable apartment, with a bright peat fire burning on
the hearth, before which Colin Lothian's dog lay sound asleep.
Close to the fire and athwart the room was a long table, where, as
I entered, I saw Bailie Duke seated at his ease in a large
armchair. At his right sat Bailie Thomson--a man with a forbidding
face, whom I had often of late seen in the company of Carver
Kinlay. At Mr. Duke's left hand was the schoolmaster, prim and
businesslike as I had often seen him look in the school when
anything of importance was pending, such as a class examination.
Near him sat Lieutenant Fox, looking very handsome in his naval
uniform, and very much at his ease. The only other person in the
room was Dr. Linklater, who smiled a greeting to me as I stood at
the door.
"Take a seat there, Ericson, my lad," said Mr. Duke, indicating a
chair opposite to him in the middle of the floor.
And then he turned to the dominie, speaking with him in an
undertone.
These five men, who were all in different degrees known to me,
presented no very formal aspect, and I felt no dread of what was to
follow. As I sat there awaiting the opening of the proceedings I
looked straight before me at the long table. Here, lying in front
of the two bailies, were my fowling piece and a coil of rope.
Before Mr. Drever lay Jarl Haffling's talisman; also, to my
surprise, I observed the wooden box that I had seen in the cave,
and the little chest that I had taken from the chart room of the
Pilgrim; on the lid of the latter was the log book of that
ill-fated ship.
What these relics of the Pilgrim could possibly have to do with the
murder of Colin Lothian I was at a loss to know. But their
importance in the issue of the case will presently be seen.
"Halcro Ericson!" said Bailie Duke.
I rose to my feet and faced him. He tapped his snuffbox and took a
large pinch, and leisurely passed the box to the dominie.
Presently, after much use of his bandanna handkerchief, he
continued:
"Halcro Ericson, you were arrested on Saturday last on suspicion of
being the murderer of Colin Lothian--a poor, worthy man, known and
respected in the Mainland for many, many years. At the time of your
arrest on board the Clasper, the evidence against you was
circumstantially complete, and appeared to be conclusive. Further
evidence of an important nature, however, has since been gathered
by Mr. Drever here, and it has brought new light upon the matter.
You are not, I am happy to say, to be formally charged with the
murder of Lothian; but, in the absence of the proper official--the
procurator fiscal--it is necessary that I, as the senior bailie of
Stromness, should make some inquiry into this case, you see. You
will presently be examined with other witnesses, and you will have
an opportunity of, I hope, clearing yourself of whatever suspicion
is still attached to you. Sit down again, Halcro."
Concluding this speech, Mr. Duke rang a little hand bell that was
on the table, and Macfarlane appeared at one of the doors.
"Just send in Jack Paterson and Steenie Barrie," he said; and
presently the two fishermen were ushered in. Paterson, entering
first, touched his forelock to the magistrate, and similarly
saluted Lieutenant Fox.
"Jack, my man," said Mr. Duke, "just let us know what way ye found
auld Colin's body."
Paterson stepped up to the table, twirling his sou'wester round and
round by the brim between his two big hands.
"Weel, ye see, Mr. Duke," began Jack falteringly, "I was lying in
my bed on Friday night when young Halcro Ericson knocked at the
door and telt me that Thora Kinlay was out in the storm and couldna
be found. So I cam' along to Stromness--"
"Ay, but dinna mind that part o' the story, Jack," interrupted Mr.
Duke; "just begin where Steenie and you heard the dog."
"Yes, Mr. Duke," said Paterson, dropping his sou'wester in his
nervousness. And then he repeated what Captain Flett had already
told me.
"Did you both go into the cottage?" asked the bailie.
"No," said Jack, "Steenie ran away down to the town to tell the
doctor. I went into Mary's mysel'. But Mary was away at Kirkwall,
ye ken. I saw that some person had been there, however; for the
peats were still hot, and there was some roasted potatoes on the
table, forbye a cloth that had blood on it."
"And you waited about there until Dr. Linklater came?"
"Yes, Mr. Duke."
"Now do you recognize this as the gun you found?" Mr. Duke asked,
touching my fowling piece.
"Ay, that's just it," replied Jack.
Bailie Thomson then asked: "Have you ever seen the gun before,
Paterson?"
"No," said Jack.
"What! have you never seen Ericson with it?"
"Never," said Paterson, "though they tell me it is Halcro's gun."
"Are you sure that Ericson had not the gun with him when he knocked
you up on Friday night?" persisted Mr. Thomson.
"Yes, quite sure," said Jack.
"And where did Ericson go to after he left you?" questioned Mr.
Thomson.
"I dinna ken, Mr. Thomson. He said he was to gang back to Lyndardy.
But ye'd better ask himsel', had ye not?"
And Paterson looked round to where I sat.
Mr. Thomson seemed to have no further questions to ask, and Bailie
Duke said:
"Very well, Jack, that will do now. You may both go."
And Jack Paterson went away, followed by Barrie.
"Now, doctor, would you just let us hear what you have to say,
please?" said Mr. Duke, turning to Dr. Linklater.
The doctor kept his seat, and said:
"Mr. Drever came to me early on Friday morning and told me that
Colin Lothian had been shot dead over by Mary Firth's cottage, and
I went out. I met the man Barrio on the way, and he turned back
with me, conducting me to the spot. I found Lothian quite dead. He
had been dead quite two hours, I should say. There was a gunshot
wound in his back under the left shoulder. I got Paterson and
Barrie to take off a door in Mary Firth's room, and we carried the
body upon it down to my house. I made an examination of the body,
and extracted several swan shot from the left lung."
Dr. Linklater then passed a piece of paper containing the shot to
Bailie Duke, saying: "I suppose you need me no longer, bailie?"
"No, doctor, that's all," said Mr. Duke. "Just tell Macfarlane to
send David Flett in, will you?"
Flett came in and took his place before the magistrates, and gave
information as to the time of my leaving the Falcon on Friday
night.
Mr. Thomson, questioning him, asked:
"Do you know of any motive that the lad Ericson might have in
committing this crime? Was there any enmity between him and
Lothian?"
"Certainly not. How could ye think so, Mr. Thomson?" said my
skipper. "Why, Colin and Halcro were most friendly. It seems to me
ridiculous that anyone should ever suspect such a thing o' the
lad!"
Mr. Duke here rang his bell and told Macfarlane to bring in Tom
Kinlay.
It was a considerable time before Tom appeared, with the jailer at
his side, for he had to be brought out of the cell in which the
smugglers were imprisoned. As Flett went out, he came forward
slowly, looking pale and haggard. I noticed him start nervously as
Mr. Duke, putting forth his hand to take up his snuffbox, happened
to touch the gun.
There was some dispute between Bailie Duke and Bailie Thomson as to
which of them should first question Kinlay. But it was arranged
that Mr. Thomson should do so. He commenced by saying to Tom:
"You were taken in the North Gaulton Cave on Saturday, were you
not?"
But at this point Mr. Drever made an unexpected interruption.
Hitherto he had, during the proceedings, been quietly but busily
writing down the evidence, for use in the formal indictment which,
as I afterwards learned, Mr. Duke was to submit to the procurator
fiscal, whose deputy he was.
"Mr. Duke," said the dominie, "do you not think, in view of the
importance of Kinlay's evidence, that it is advisable to administer
the oath?"
"Ah! you're right, dominie; yes, certainly," said Mr. Duke.
"No, no," objected Bailie Thomson. "Why should this witness be
treated differently from the others?"
"Mr. Drever is right, Thomson," said Mr. Duke. "We must have the
oath."
"I see no reason for it," said Bailie Thomson. "This is not a
formal or judicial inquiry; it is a simple precognition of
witnesses."
"I think, Mr. Thomson," mildly interposed the schoolmaster, "that
you will see a little later on the necessity of it. Besides, you
must remember that Kinlay is already a prisoner on two separate
charges."
"Yes," said Mr. Duke, "both for smuggling and for having
contravened the law of treasure trove."
Then addressing Tom Kinlay he said:
"Thomas Kinlay, you will now hold up your right hand and repeat
these words distinctly after me."
Kinlay raised his hand above his head and repeated the solemn and
impressive words of our Scotch adjuration:
"I swear by Almighty God, as I shall answer to God at the great day
of judgment, that I will tell the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth. So help me, God!"
When this was done Mr. Duke leaned back in his chair and said:
"Now, Mr. Thomson, if you please."
"You were taken in the cave of Gaulton on Saturday, were you not?"
repeated Mr. Thomson, addressing Tom.
Tom sullenly answered "Yes."
"Now, tell us," the bailie continued, "when you entered that cave
with your father and the crew of the St. Magnus, whom did you find
there?"
Tom had first seen me when I was taken down to the cutter's boat,
and no doubt he had believed that it was I who had guided the
revenue men to the cavern. He, therefore, grasped at the
interpretation implied by the bailie's question, and, whether
intentionally or not, suppressed the fact that he was himself in
the cave before the smugglers arrived, he merely said:
"We didna find anybody in the cave."
"That is strange," said Mr. Thomson. "Then you saw nothing of
Ericson in the cave?"
"Nothing, sir, until I saw him in the Clasper's pinnace."
"Of course we are to understand," observed Bailie Duke, "that
Ericson might hide in the cave without being discovered by the
smugglers. Lieutenant Fox had better be questioned about his manner
of arresting the lad;" and he looked towards the officer.
Mr. Fox bent forward in his chair and said: "I first saw Ericson in
the cave when, as I believe, he saved my life by knocking a pistol
from Carver Kinlay's hand. I believe the lad was in there before
the crew of the St. Magnus."
"Then that is proof sufficient that Ericson was hiding," said Mr.
Thomson with an air of triumph.
"Halcro! come forward, will you?" said Mr. Duke, "and stand beside
Kinlay."
I did as he requested, and then I was required to take the oath as
Kinlay had taken it. Mr. Thomson looked satisfied.
"Tell us, Ericson," said Bailie Duke, taking a pinch of snuff, and
then bending forward with his elbows on the table, "tell us this:
When you bravely, and at the risk of breaking your neck, climbed
down the North Gaulton Cliff to render assistance, as you supposed,
to Thora Kinlay, did you find anyone in the cave?"
"Yes, Mr. Duke," I answered with directness, "I found Tom Kinlay.
He was alone and asleep."
"You descended the cliff without the aid of ropes, I believe?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know any other lad in Pomona who could have done such a
thing? Kinlay, there, for instance?"
"He might have done it, sir, but not in winter."
"How, then, do you account for Kinlay getting into the cave?"
"I suppose, sir, that he had my ropes;" and I pointed to the coil
of rope on the table.
"Now, further, do you recognize this gun?"
"Yes; it is mine."
"When did you last use it?"
"Two days before I went away in the Falcon, more than two months
since."
There was a pause here and a passing of the snuffbox. Bailie Duke
then turned to Kinlay, holding the viking's stone in his fingers.
"Have you ever had this curious stone in your possession, Kinlay?"
he asked.
"Yes; I got it from my sister," replied Tom.
"Ericson," asked Mr. Duke, "how came the stone in your possession
on Saturday?"
"Jessie and I found it at the head of the Cliff," I said. "It was
that which made me believe that Thora was in the cave. She got the
stone from me before I went away, and I thought she had maybe
dropped it as she was getting over the cliff."
"But what on earth could the lass want in the cave?" asked Mr.
Thomson.
"She was unhappy at home," I explained, "and had threatened to run
away. I supposed she had taken refuge in the cave."
"Kinlay," said Mr. Duke, touching the coil of rope, "did you at any
time make use of these lines to climb down the Gaulton cliffs?"
Tom was silent.
"If you do not care to tell us that, then, perhaps, you will say if
you happened to make use of this gun on the night on which Colin
Lothian met his death?"
Tom became perceptibly confused.
"Mr. Duke," exclaimed Bailie Thomson, "what in the world are you
driving at?"
"I'm driving at the truth, Mr. Thomson," said Bailie Duke calmly,
"and I think I see it. In the first place, you will observe, sir,
that no motive whatever has been found which would induce Halcro
Ericson to raise his hand against poor Colin Lothian. Now, on the
contrary--and I can prove this by witnesses if you wish--it is
certain that Kinlay had a quarrel with Lothian on the very day of
the murder. Lieutenant Fox, who was witness of that quarrel, will
be able to tell the reason of it. The reason was simply
this--nothing else but this, Mr. Thomson--that it was Colin who let
it out about the smuggling. It was what Lothian said in Oliver
Gray's inn that morning which led the officer to believe that
Carver Kinlay kept a store of illicit whisky in the Gaulton Cave.
Is that so, Mr. Fox?"
"It is quite true," said the officer.
"Now, it is useless to examine more witnesses in proof of what I
say. All that may be considered in detail when the case comes
before the procurator fiscal. But Mr. Drever has found one witness
whose evidence is of the greatest importance, and I will have that
witness called.
"Macfarlane, bring in Thora Kinlay.
"Ericson, my lad, sit down here with Mr. Drever."
Stepping towards the schoolmaster I faced the door through which
Macfarlane had disappeared, giving a pat of recognition to Colin
Lothian's dog as I passed it. And now that door was reopened, and
my dear school friend Thora came in.
It was the first time I had seen her since her illness. She seemed
taller and more stately, and I mutely marvelled at the delicate
beauty of her fair face and at the brightness of her deep-blue
eyes.
Our eyes met, and we simply pronounced each other's name.
"Halcro!" said she; "Thora!" said I.
And then Colin Lothian's dog sprang about her skirts in joyful
greeting, and followed her to the middle of the room.
Bailie Duke, after a consultation with Mr. Drever, called Thora to
the table and administered the oath. She pronounced the words with
grave solemnity.
"I understand, Thora," said Mr. Duke, "that you know something
concerning the death of Colin Lothian?"
"Yes," said Thora. "I know all about it, Mr. Duke."
"What! You can tell how it happened? You know who committed the
deed?"
Lothian's dog here licked her hand. She sent it away, and it
wandered about the room until it came to Tom Kinlay.
"Yes, I can tell you that," she replied.
And then she turned round, pointing with accusing finger at Tom
Kinlay, "'Twas him that did it. I saw it all. See, even the dog
kens its own master's blood!"
At Kinlay's feet crouched Lothian's dog, snarling angrily as it
looked at a stain on the young man's trousers.
Consternation filled me as I heard this terrible accusation. Mr.
Drever alone of those present seemed unmoved; he alone seemed to
have expected it. Tom Kinlay's face grew pale and haggard, and he
almost tottered as he stood there with all eyes directed upon him.
When the excitement had subsided, Mr. Duke looked towards Thora and
asked her to tell all she knew, in her own way, and to omit no
detail. She accordingly stepped a little nearer to the table,
resting her hand upon it, and gave her evidence in a clear,
unfaltering voice. Her narrative was to the following effect:
On the day of the commencement of the snowstorm Thora, who had not
been to school since her illness, went over to Clouston to visit
her young friend Hilda Paterson. When the storm came on she issued
out of the cottage and took the road as far as Stenness, and over
the undulating land of Sandwick, where the snow wreaths were
already so deep that often on her way she failed to recognize the
landmarks. She travelled in uncertainty as to the direction she was
taking, and felt utterly tired out--for she was not yet
strong--when she came unexpectedly to a little cottage, and, to her
dismay, found she had walked nearly three miles out of the direct
road home.
The cottage was a tiny building of rough stones, and the snow found
its way inside through the wide crevices in the walls. It was the
home of one Mary Firth, a lone old woman who earned her living by
knitting stockings and burning kelp. Opening the door, Thora
entered the only room. There was no one within and the fire was
dead out, for Mary Firth had gone away that morning to Kirkwall to
sell her stock of knitting. Thora was cold and hungry; she
considered it impossible to reach Crua Breck before dark, and the
snow was falling heavily, so she determined to wait till old Mary
returned. She got a few pieces of dry peat from a corner and piled
them on the hearth, then sought for Mary's flint and steel, and
proceeded to kindle a fire. Its warmth was comforting, and she sat
there on a low stool until the peats glowed hot and the kettle
began to boil.
Still Mary did not return. There was no tea to be found in the
cupboard and the only particle of food was a piece of oaten
bannock. There were a few raw potatoes, however, and Thora put some
of these in the fire to roast.
She was looking out at the falling snow through the little window,
and expecting Mary, when in the distance she saw the figure of a
man walking in the direction of Lyndardy farm, and bending forward
as he fought against wind and snow. Behind him was a dog, and she
knew at once that the man was Colin Lothian.
Now Thora had been anxious to meet the old wanderer ever since I
had told her of the wreck of the Undine, and throwing her shawl
over her head she ran out of the cottage to bid him enter and share
the meal she had prepared.
She had not gone far, however, before she observed another person
approaching old Lothian from the opposite direction. This was Tom
Kinlay, and as she recognized him she paused and slowly retreated
to the cottage without being observed, for she had no desire to
meet him, or be seen by him at that moment.
As she looked round the two men met and stood face to face. The
wind carried the sound of their voices towards her, and she heard
angry words pass between them. Yet what they said was indistinct.
She only gathered that they were quarrelling about something that
Lothian had told to the excise officers. The dog barked at Kinlay,
and he kicked the animal.
Finally, Tom allowed the old man to continue his way a few yards
and shouted after him, "Well, anyhow, you'll tell no more;" and as
he said these words he raised a gun to his shoulder and fired.
The girl saw Lothian stagger and fall. Then Tom went and knelt down
at the side of his victim as though he would complete his work with
the knife he took from his belt. But, looking nervously round in
the direction of the cottage, as though fearing that the report of
the gun might bring some one out, he hurried away in the direction
of the cliffs, carrying with him a rope which was coiled over his
shoulder.
Already Thora had left the cottage, but Tom had not observed her.
She ran through the snow towards the wounded man. The dog was
yelping and running frantically about.
The old man raised himself to a sitting posture as she stooped and
supported his head. He did not recognize her until she spoke.
"Where are you hurt, Colin?" she asked. "Do you not know me? I'm
Thora."
He tried to place his hand on his side, and fell back helpless.
"Can ye walk with me as far as Mary Firth's?" she said.
"Nay, Thora, lassie," he murmured. "I'll not walk any more. My
travelling is ower. The life flies out o' me."
Thora wrung her hands, not knowing what to do. The darkness of
night was coming on. They were far away from any dwelling, save the
little cottage, and the snow wreaths on the desolate moor were
becoming every moment more impassable.
"I will run to Stromness for Dr. Linklater," she said.
"No, lassie, no; there's no use o' doing that," said Colin. "The
doctor can do nothing. Go away home and let me die."
"No, I canna leave you, Colin," she said woefully. "And how can I
go home when my own brother has done this thing?"
"Tom Kinlay is no brother o' yours, Thora!" gasped Colin. "Nor
Carver your father!"
"What do you mean, Colin? Oh, what do you mean?" cried she. "Carver
not my father! Who is my father, then?"
"Listen!" said Colin.
But he had not strength to say more. He dropped his head back and
groaned. And then she saw that he was dead.
She took the plaid from under him and spread it over his body to
protect it from the snow. Then leaving the dog in charge of its
dead master, she hurried first to the cottage to see if Mary Firth
had returned. She wiped her hands of the blood that was on them,
and made her way through the snow to Stromness.
It was almost midnight when she arrived in the town, for her
journey had been a long and a difficult one. All the houses were in
darkness, and there was not a person to be seen in the deserted
streets. She made her way to the schoolhouse, and after much
trouble succeeded in arousing Andrew Drever.
But when the door was opened she had not strength to speak. She
fainted from exhaustion as soon as she sat down in the kitchen. Mr.
Drever gave her food, which revived her; but it was not until she
had had several hours' sleep that she could recount even a part of
what had occurred on the moor. But the schoolmaster understood this
much, that Colin Lothian was lying dead near to Mary Firth's
cottage, and, leaving the girl for a few minutes, he ran to Dr.
Linklater's and sent him to make further discoveries.
Such was the substance of Thora's evidence, though I have given it
in fuller detail than as she delivered it to Mr. Duke.
When she had been cross-questioned by Bailie Thomson the inquiry
was closed by Mr. Duke, and the case remitted to a higher court.
Tom Kinlay was thereupon taken by Macfarlane to his prison cell to
await the delivery of the formal charge of murder.
I was taking up my gun and preparing to leave when Andrew Drever
requested me to remain in order to be present at the consideration
of a further question that had arisen out of his investigations of
the case. Mr. Duke remained in his chair, talking with Thora, while
Bailie Thomson and Mr. Fox went out. Presently, however, I was
somewhat surprised to see Captain Flett enter, with Peter Brown;
and I could only conjecture that there was now to be some
explanation as to the meaning of the two boxes being on the
table--the box out of the cave and the little chest from the
Pilgrim. But what was said and done at this supplementary inquiry
may well be reserved for another chapter.