They had reached a place where a wide horseshoe of beach ran down to the
loch. For more than a week there had been no rain to speak of. The season
as a whole had been dry, and the water was very low; tufts of grass
dotted the shore; brambles and young alders were springing up bravely,
determined to make the most of their time. At the back stretched a
meadow, part of which had been cut for hay; the rest of it was so full of
weeds and wild flowers, ragweed, burdock and the red stalks of sorrel,
that it had been left untouched, and filled the foreground with colour.
The grass had gone to seed and turned a rich reddish purple; beneath it
grew wild geraniums whose leaves were already scarlet. Bluebells and
scabious made a haze of mauve, and everywhere the warm, sandy stalks of
the dried grasses shone yellow through the patch.
They sat down at the edge of the beach and leant back against the
overhanging turf. Opposite to them the little town of Crianan clung to
the steep rocks below Ben Ghusy, the houses looking as if they stood
piled one on top of another in a rough pyramid; and the whole surmounted
by the high walls and tower of the Roman Catholic monastery which
dominated the scene, and always seemed to Juliet to wear a look of stern
defiance, as if it were offering a challenge to that other fortress that
frowned back at it. She could imagine the monks in the old days, standing
on its parapet and daring the Lords of Inverashiel to do their worst. Far
away down the loch lay the hills, scarce more deeply grey than the water;
beyond them more distant tops melted into the sky. The grey ripples
lapped gently on jagged shingle, and a persistent housefly buzzed loudly
round their heads; at that hour there were as yet few midges, and it was
very peaceful, very solitary, very desolate.
"I don't know," said Juliet, going on with her story where she had left
off, "which was more angry, Lord Ashiel or Sir David. After the first few
minutes, in which they both said things I am sure they regretted
afterwards, neither of them would speak to the other, and it was a very
uncomfortable evening for every one. The next day was better. Colonel
Spicer and Sir George left by the morning train, both going on to shoot
in other parts of Scotland. Mrs. Clutsam went away too; she had some one
coming to stay with her at her own house near by. Both the young men went
stalking on different parts of the forest, and Lord Ashiel and I, with
the two other girls, spent the morning on the loch trolling for salmon;
but we didn't get a rise.
"In the afternoon I walked up the river with Julia Romaninov; we talked
about our schooldays. She had been at school in Germany, and I in
Switzerland. After a while she got tired and went home, but I went on by
myself, for I had a lot of things to think of, and was glad to be alone.
I came at last to a great pool among the rocks, where the river comes
down in a fall from far above in a cloud of spray and foam. I stood on a
stone at the water's edge and watched the trout rising in the pool. The
river was low and the water very clear. Standing on the rocks above it,
it seemed as if I could see every pebble at the bottom, except where they
were hidden in the ripples which spread away from beneath the fall. The
pool is like the bottom of a well; high rocks rear themselves round it to
a great height; they are veiled in a greenness of fern and moss, and near
the top many trees have found a roothold in the crevices and bend forward
towards each other over the water, as divers poise themselves before
leaping down. Through a narrow opening opposite the fall the river makes
its way onward. As I stood there a stone must have come down from the
heights above. I did not see it, and the noise of the waterfall deadened
any sound of its descent, but suddenly I felt a heavy blow between the
shoulders, and I must have tumbled forward into the pool below.
"The next thing I remember was looking up into the anxious friendly face
of Andrew Campbell, one of the ghillies at Inverashiel. It seemed to be
hanging above me in the sky, which was the only other thing I could see,
and I wondered vaguely why I saw it upside down. My head was aching
cruelly and I couldn't imagine what was the matter, though I was too weak
and faint to care. To cut my adventure short, Andrew had come to a pool
lower down the river just as I floated into it on top of the current; he
had fished me out, and was now restoring me to life again. I was got back
to the house, how I hardly know, put to bed, and actually wept over by
Lord Ashiel. By the evening I had so far recovered that I was able to
come down to dinner, though I should not have done so if it had not been
for the anxiety of my host, as my head still felt as if it was going to
split. I received many congratulations on my escape, and Lord Ashiel,
when he spoke of it, was so much moved that every one was quite
embarrassed, and I myself was touched beyond expression at the affection
he did not attempt to conceal. He was very silent after that, but in
spite of him dinner that night was a merry meal. Every one was in the
best of spirits, or else assumed them for the time being. We all joked
and laughed over my adventure, and Mr. McConachan said I bore a charmed
life, since I had escaped being killed by his careless shot, and now the
river refused to drown me. It was not till the servants had left the
room, and we were preparing to do the same, that Lord Ashiel spoke again.
"Lady Ruth had got up, and was moving towards the door, and the other
girls and I were following her, when he called her back. 'Will you wait a
minute, Ruth,' he said. 'I have something to tell you and my young
friends here.' He smiled round at all of us, including Sir David, to whom
he hadn't spoken since the affair of the dog. 'I have some good news
which I want you to share with me.' He took me by the hand and drew me
forward. 'I want,' said he, 'to introduce you all to a young lady whom
you do not know. This is Juliet McConachan, my dear and only daughter.'
"I was not really so surprised as he expected. His behaviour to me had
made me suspicious, and during the last few days especially I had allowed
myself to nourish a hope that we were related. But I was glad. I can't
tell you how glad and thankful. Every one else was tremendously
surprised. They all clustered round us with questions and exclamations,
but Lord Ashiel would say no more just then, and only smiled and beamed,
and nodded mysteriously. 'I am not going to answer any questions till I
have had a talk with Juliet,' he said. 'This is as much news to her as it
is to any of you, and it is only fair that she should be the first to
hear the story. For I won't deny that there is a story. Come to me
presently, my child,' he went on, addressing himself to me. 'Come to the
library in half an hour's time. You will find me there, and I will tell
you all about it.'
"I went to the drawing-room, my aching head almost forgotten. I was, of
course, intensely excited; indeed I think I scarcely took in any of the
kind things that Lady Ruth and the others said to me that evening; at all
events I have hardly any idea what they were, and none at all as to what
I answered. My one overmastering desire was to be alone; to have time to
think; to realize all that the news meant to me; and after a quarter of
an hour had passed I made some excuse, and left the room. The nearest way
to my bedroom was by a back stair, and to reach it I had to pass through
a passage leading to the gun-room. The door of that room was ajar, and as
I went by Sir David Southern came out.
"'What have you been doing in there at this time of night?' I asked; and
oh, Mr. Gimblet, I was so foolish as to repeat this to the Glasgow
detective when he questioned me. To think that my careless words have led
them to believe Sir David capable of such a crime! But I had no idea of
the meaning they would attach to it. You will understand presently how it
was. 'I went to clean my rifle,' he answered, shutting the door behind
him. 'I always see to that myself. And where are you off to so fast,
Cousin Juliet? That is what you are to me, it appears.' And so we
talked: about me, and our newly discovered relationship. I need not
repeat all that, need I? And, besides, I do not remember everything we
said," added Juliet, flushing.
"After a little while, though, I told him how badly my head ached, and he
was very sympathetic about it. 'You ought not to have come down to
dinner,' he said, 'the dining-room gets so hot and stuffy; it is a low
room, and Uncle Douglas never will have the window open, even on a lovely
night like this.' There is a door at the foot of the stairs, opposite the
gun-room, and as he spoke he drew back the bolt. 'Come out into the
garden for a few minutes,' he said, holding the door open for me to pass,
'a little fresh air will do you more good than anything.'
"The night was warm, I suppose, for Scotland, but cool enough to seem
wonderfully fresh and invigorating after the enclosed air within the
house. It was very dark, and the sky was overcast, though just above us a
star or two was shining, very large and clear. Otherwise I could hardly
distinguish anything at all, except the line, about fifty yards away,
where the lawn came to an end, and the ground dipped abruptly down
towards the loch, so that the level edge of the grass showed up against
the less opaque darkness of the sky, like a black velvet border to a
piece of black silk.
"We stood there a little while, till I remembered I must go to the
library. My head was already much better when I turned back into the
house; Sir David didn't follow me; he seemed to be staring through the
gloom in front of him. 'I am going in,' I said. 'What are you looking
at?' 'I thought I saw something move over there on the skyline,' he
replied; 'do you see anything?' I looked, but could make out nothing.
'Well,' he said, 'if you are going in, I think I'll just go over and see
if there's anyone about; you might leave the door open, will you?'
"And so I left him, and made my way to the library. As I passed through
the billiard-room, Mr. McConachan, who was knocking the balls about,
asked me if I had seen his cousin, and I told him Sir David was outside
on the lawn by the gun-room door.
"Lord Ashiel--my father--was waiting for me, and he came to meet me and
kissed me tenderly. We were both very much agitated: I was still feeling
the effects of my escape from drowning, and he, poor dear, was weak and
ill. In short, neither of us was in a fit state to meet the situation
calmly; and, if my tears flowed, they were not the only ones that were
shed. For a few moments we cried like babies, in each other's arms, and
then I pulled myself together, for I knew how bad it was for his health
to get into this nervous state. Mr. Gimblet, I needn't tell you all the
conversation that followed between us. He told me that you know the whole
story, that you are the one person in the world in whom he had confided;
so it is unnecessary for me to repeat what he said of his marriage to my
mother, of her death, and of his resolve never willingly to look upon me,
the baby who had taken her from him. He told me also of the years that
had intervened between that day when he had shuffled off his
responsibilities on to Mrs. Meredith, and the day, not long ago, when he
at last decided to hunt out his daughter.
"He told me of his fears that she should prove to be none other than
Julia Romaninov, and of how, in desperation, he had applied to you for
help, and of how you had discovered my existence.
"He said he had never really doubted from the moment he first set eyes on
me that I was Juliana's child. But he dared not hint such a thing to me
till he was certain, and anxious though he was to see a likeness between
me and her, or himself, he had not been able to tell himself, truthfully,
that he could really see one, until that day. It was when I was brought
home that afternoon, so white and faint, so changed by my pallor from
what he chose to describe as my usual gay brilliance, that the
resemblance suddenly showed itself. He hardly knew that it was I; it
might have been Juliana that they were carrying. He said there could be
no doubt that I was her daughter; that he for one, required no further
proof; though we should probably get it now it was no longer wanted. Sir
Arthur Byrne might be able to suggest some way of tracing things. Not
that it mattered, for he could not in any case leave me his title, and,
on the other hand, he had full control of his money, which would be mine
before very long.
"I cried out at that, that he must not say so; that it was not money I
wanted, but a father, affection, friendship. He repeated that all the
same I should have it in course of time. That it was all settled already.
Even before he was certain that I was his own child, he liked me well
enough to make up his mind about that. He asked me if I remembered that
he had stayed at home the other day while the rest of us were on the
hill? He said he had made his will that day, and I was the principal
legatee, though he had not alluded to me in it by my own name. But he
worded it carefully, so that that should make no difference; and though
he believed it was quite clear as it was, he would make it over again,
as soon as he could obtain legal proof of my birth.
"I supposed I murmured some sort of thanks for his care of my future, and
he went on again, saying that he only wished the title could come to me
too, when he died; but that it would go to Mark, since the little boy his
second wife had given him was dead, and I was a girl.
"He said he was afraid that Mark might be a little disappointed, for, if
he hadn't found me, Mark and David would have shared his fortune between
them; but they would soon get over it, for they were good lads,
especially Mark; and David would have plenty of money through this very
satisfactory marriage of his. I couldn't help interrupting that money
wasn't everything. I am telling you all these trivial things, Mr.
Gimblet, because you said I was to try and remember everything, however
unimportant."
"Yes," said Gimblet, "that is what I want. Pray go on."
"He only smiled when I said that," Juliet resumed, "and said that
different opinions were held on that subject by different people. Then he
went on talking about my future life, and said again how glad he would
always be that he had consulted you, and how grateful he was for what you
had done for him, and that if any trouble cropped up, I was to be sure
and send for you at once. He looked to you to protect my interests, and,
if necessary, to avenge his death.
"I couldn't think what he meant, and said so; but he only smiled again
and said he hoped there would be no need for it. He said he had some
papers he must send to you to take care of, some papers that were rather
dangerous to their owner, he was afraid, though at the same time they
were a safeguard to him. But he shouldn't like me to have anything to do
with them, or the boys either, and he must get them away from Inverashiel
as soon as he could. In the meantime they were in a safe place where no
one would find them, and he would write to you that night and tell you
how to look for them, just on the chance that something should happen
before he could send them off. His will was with them, too, for the
present, but he would send that up to Findlay & Ince. He wouldn't tell me
where the papers were; he didn't want me to have anything to do with
these tiresome things.
"He said all this with hesitation; with long pauses between the
sentences. It seemed to me that he would have liked to tell me more, and
I didn't know what to say. Indeed, he seemed to be talking rather to
himself than to me, and I am not sure if he heard me when I said that if
he had any anxiety I should like to share it, if it were possible.
Presently he seemed to take a sudden resolution. He said that there was
no reason, at all events, why he should not explain to me how to find the
papers. He had written directions in cipher once before and given you the
key, but you had lost it, and might do so again. It would be just as well
that I should know about it too, in any case. He had had to think out a
new method, and at present it was known to no one except himself, which
was perhaps not very wise. However, he would send it to you that night,
and would explain it to me at once. But first I must promise him, very
faithfully, never to mention it to anyone, whatever happened, not to let
anyone, except you, ever guess that there was such a thing in existence.
"I promised solemnly; still he hardly seemed satisfied, and looked at me
very searchingly, while he said he wondered if I were old enough to
understand the importance of this, and if I realized that I was promising
not to tell my nearest or dearest; not my adopted father, Sir Arthur
Byrne, nor my lover, if I had one. That it was a matter of life and
death, that his life was in danger then, and that I would inherit the
risk unless I did as he said.
"Rather indignant, though completely mystified, I promised again. He
seemed satisfied, and said he would write the whole thing down for me. He
moved from the hearth, where we had been sitting, to the writing-table,
which stands in the middle of the room, in front of the window. He sat
down at it, and I stood a little behind him, looking on as he took a
sheet of notepaper and turned over the pens in the tray in search of a
pencil. The room was very hot; the tufts of peat smouldering in the
grate, and the two lamps, combined with the fumes of Lord Ashiel's cigar
to render the atmosphere oppressive to a person with a violent headache.
I glanced longingly towards the window. It was not entirely hidden by the
heavy curtains which were drawn across it, for they did not quite meet in
the middle, and I could see perfectly well that the window was shut. For
a moment I hesitated, torn between the desire for fresh air and the fear
that my father might feel too cold. He was terribly chilly. I decided to
ask him, and turned to him again as he took up the pencil and examined
the point critically.
"'Would you mind,' I was beginning; but at that instant a loud report
sounded just outside the window. Lord Ashiel fell forward on to the table
with a low cry, his hand clasped to his ribs. 'Oh, what is it?' I cried,
bending over him; 'you are hurt; you are shot! Oh, what shall I do!' He
was making a great effort to speak, I could see that plainly enough; but
no words would come, and he seemed to be choking. At last he managed to
get out a few words. 'Gimblet,' he gasped, 'the clock--eleven--steps--'
and then with a groan his hand dropped from his side, his head rolled
back upon the table, and a silence followed, more horrible to me than
anything that had gone before.
"I saw now that his shirt was already soaked with blood; and, as in
terror I called again upon his name, the dreadful truth was borne in upon
me, and I knew that he was dead."
Juliet's voice failed her; she spoke the last few words in a quavering
whisper, and if Gimblet had looked at her at that moment he would have
beheld a countenance drawn and distorted by horror.
But he was very much occupied, and did not look up. With a notebook open
on his knee, he was busily writing down what she had said.
"You are sure of the words?" he asked, as his pencil sped across the
page. "'Gimblet--the clock--eleven--step,' is that it?"
His matter-of-fact voice soothed and reassured her. This little
grey-haired man, sitting at her side, was somehow a very comfortable
companion to one whose nerves were badly overwrought. Juliet pulled
herself together.
"Steps," she corrected, and her voice sounded almost natural again.
"Not step."
"Do you suppose," asked the detective, "that he meant the English word,
steps, or the Russian, steppes?"
"I don't know," said Juliet, surprised. "I never thought of it. But, Mr.
Gimblet, I have not told anyone but you that he spoke after he was hit. I
thought perhaps that he might have wished those last words of his to be
kept private."
"Quite right," said Gimblet approvingly. "He did right to trust your
discretion. And now, please, go on," he added, putting down his pencil;
"what happened next?"
And Juliet answered him in a tone as calm as his own:
"I think I must have fainted."