A CLUE
There was a touch of frost in the still air and the light was fading.
A yellow glow lingered in the southwest beyond Criffell's sloping
shoulder, which ran up against it, tinged a deep violet. Masses of
soft, gray cloud floated above the mountain's summit; but the sky was
clear overhead, and a thin new moon grew brighter in the east This was
why the murmur of the sea came out of the distance in a muffled roar,
for the tides run fast when the moon is young.
Elsie, walking homeward, vacantly noticed how bright the crescent
gleamed above the dusky firs, as she entered the gloom of a straggling
wood at the foot of the hill on which Appleyard was built. She had
been out all the afternoon and now she shrank from going home, for she
felt that a shadow rested upon the house. Dick had returned from a
cruise with Andrew, looking dejected and unwell; and she was glad that
Whitney had taken both away again, on his motorcycle, because Dick had
lately had fits of moody restlessness when he was at home. Still, she
missed them badly, for her mother was silent and preoccupied; and when
Andrew was away, she found it hard to banish the troubles that seemed
to be gathering round. They were worse for being very vaguely defined,
but she felt convinced that something sinister was going on.
As she thought of Andrew, her face grew gentle and she smiled. She
knew his worth and his limitations, and loved him for both. He had his
suspicions, too, and would follow where they led. Andrew was not the
man to shirk a painful duty, but she could not openly help him yet.
That might come, and in the meanwhile she would at least put no
obstacle in his way. Still, if her fears were justified, the situation
was daunting and she might need all her courage.
As she neared the lodge, she saw a man loitering in the shadow.
"Are you waiting for somebody, Jock?" she asked.
Marshall, the fisherman, turned and looked at her thoughtfully.
"Weel," he said, "they telt me Mr. Andrew's no' at home."
"Did you want to see him about the yacht?"
"It wasna' that, a'thegither."
"No?"
"Ye see, I've missed him twice and I'm for Stranraer the morn. We're
gaun west to try the herring fishing."
"And you wanted to tell Mr. Johnstone something before you left? Can I
give him a message when he comes back?"
Marshall hesitated.
"Weel," he said, "ye can tell him that the _Nance_ cam' up the Firth
the night before he started for Edinbro'; that's a while ago, ye mind.
Last night she cam' up again, wi' the same crew; the Edinbro' man I
telt him o', anither wha keeps a trawl boat doon the Colvend shore,
and yin who has a reid mustache."
Elsie started, and then wondered whether she had betrayed her
surprise.
"I'll try to remember. I suppose this is for Mr. Johnstone alone?"
"Just that," said Marshall. "I'm thinking it would be better that ye
telt naebody else."
He moved off, and Elsie, looking round a moment afterward, saw that he
had vanished. It was nearly dark among the trees, but she knew that
she could have seen him had he kept on the road; besides, his heavy,
tacketed boots would have made some noise, and she had heard nothing.
Then she saw a figure coming from the lodge and her brain acted
quickly, because she recognized Staffer.
Marshall had hinted it was important that his message should be kept
secret; and fishermen had good sight. He must have noticed Staffer
before she did, and did not want to be seen talking to her. Then she
remembered that the night before Andrew started for Edinburgh was when
Williamson and the man with the red mustache had entered the house.
The stranger had come up the Firth in one of the salmon boats shortly
before his visit to Appleyard, and had been there again without her
seeing him.
She felt a thrill that was half apprehension and half excitement as
she went on slowly. The lodge was about a hundred yards away when she
met Staffer.
"There's something I want to ask you," he said. "Have you any reason
to doubt the honesty of our servants?"
Elsie saw at once where his question led, and tried to nerve herself.
He was a clever man and she was young and inexperienced.
"No," she said; "I have none; and Mother's quite satisfied with them.
Why do you ask?"
"You'll remember the night Williamson arrived rather late. He lost a
paper in an envelope, and it looks as if somebody in the house had
picked it up."
"Have you inquired about it?" Elsie asked, remembering that it was the
man with the red mustache who had dropped the envelope.
"No," Staffer said carelessly; "I didn't want to make the thing look
more important than it was, and I thought the envelope might turn up."
"But it must be of some consequence, or you wouldn't bother about it
now."
"That's obviously true. It has become important since we lost it. It
gave us some particulars that we find we can't remember."
Staffer gave her a scrutinizing look.
"It was dropped in the house," he said slowly. "Somebody must have
found it."
Elsie wondered whether he suspected her. He had seen her looking down
from the landing and might not have been satisfied that she had come
to see who was in the house; the men had been careful to make no
noise.
Staffer frowned when she did not answer.
"If the thing doesn't turn up," he declared, "I'll dismiss everybody
about the place! We can't have people round us whom it's impossible to
trust."
"None of the servants found it," Elsie said with forced quietness.
"You seem strangely sure of it!"
Elsie hesitated. She could not allow innocent people to suffer for
what she had done; but the matter had greater issues. Though much was
dark, it was clear that she and Andrew were on one side, and Staffer
and his friends on the other. Andrew could be trusted, but Staffer
could not. For all that, she felt the tie of kinship and could not act
treacherously to him.
"I am sure," she said slowly, "because I found the envelope myself."
Although the light was bad, she saw his face change, and she grew
suddenly afraid. There was a fury in his eyes that made her quail; but
he kept his self-control.
"So you were downstairs that night!"
"Yes," she said, and waited with tingling nerves, though she thought
the worst was past. For a moment or two she had, perhaps, been in
danger.
"What did you do with the thing?" he asked harshly. "Did you give it
to Andrew Johnstone?"
"Why do you think I did that?"
Staffer saw he had blundered by hinting that the paper related to
matters which might concern Andrew.
"Never mind; answer me!"
"I burned it at once, without opening it."
He looked at her as if he found this impossible to believe.
"It is quite true," she said with forced calm.
"But why? You steal a letter belonging to my guest, which you must
have thought important, and then burn it unread. Do you expect me to
understand your action? The thing seems purposeless."
"It isn't easy to explain, but I must try," she answered, nerving
herself for an effort.
"That's obvious."
She hesitated a moment and then spoke bravely.
"I knew that something not right was going on at Appleyard."
"Ah! Did you know what it was?"
Elsie made a negative sign.
"I really didn't want to know; but I believed that the letter was
dangerous. If I had read it, I might have felt forced to tell what I
found out; so I put it straight into the fire."
"Knowing that its loss might embarrass Williamson or me!"
"Yes," she said; "I thought of that. But I felt it would be safer for
us all if I burned the paper."
"I suppose you understand that what you have admitted must make a
difference? You have set yourself deliberately against me."
"If I had meant to injure you, I would have kept the letter; but I
won't urge this. If Appleyard were yours, I would go away at once, but
it is Dick's and he could not get on without my mother."
"Then you mean to stay and continue spying on my guests!"
"So long as no harm comes to Dick or Andrew, I shall leave you and
your friends alone."
Staffer laughed.
"I'm afraid you're letting your imagination run away with you. What
harm could come to either of them through me? But we'll say no more
about it, just now."
He left her at the door and she went to her room and threw herself
down on her couch, feeling rather limp, for the strain had told on
her. Besides, her suspicions now were no longer vague. She had found a
clue and she began to see where it led. Andrew was obviously watching
the mouth of the Firth, while Rankine had some mysterious business
farther west. Marshall thought it well that Andrew should know that
the man with the red mustache had come from the suspected neighborhood
late at night, in a salmon boat. The man had been at Appleyard, where
he dropped an important letter; and Williamson and Staffer were in
league with him. From all this it looked as if their business were
treasonable.
This filled her with alarm, but she was glad she had told Staffer that
she found the envelope. After all, he was her uncle and to have kept
silence would have been treacherous; but the struggle between family
obligations and her duty to the State got keener. It was unthinkable
that she should spy upon a kinsman to whom she owed much; but would
she not, in a sense, be an accomplice if she allowed him and the
others to carry on their plots? This question, however, was dismissed
for a time. There were other points to think about.
Did Staffer imagine she was in Andrew's confidence and secretly
helping him; and had he believed her statement that she had destroyed
the letter? If not, she was, perhaps, in some danger, because his
laughing remark about her imagination had not been convincing. But,
after all, what could he do? She could hardly be kidnapped and
smuggled out of the country; and it was, of course, absurd to think of
his attempting anything worse.
After a while she began to see her way. She would not watch her uncle,
but if chance brought her clear proof that he was helping her
country's enemies, she would see that he was stopped. This was a
compromise that she suspected could hardly be justified; but the next
decision was easier, because it had to do with those she loved. If
Staffer or his friends plotted any harm to Dick or Andrew, she would
remorselessly use every weapon she had against him.
Then she roused herself and bathed her face and hands, for she had
felt some physical strain while she thrashed out the painful matter.
She would need calm and courage to meet Staffer as if nothing had
happened, so that her mother might not suspect trouble. The part she
had chosen was difficult, but she must play it out. When she went in
to dinner she did not know whether she was relieved or not by
Staffer's smile, but he talked to her with the suave good-humor he
generally showed.
Two days after Elsie's talk with Jock Marshall, Andrew and Whitney
were sitting in a Melrose hotel, when a postcard from Stranraer was
brought to Andrew. There was a tarry fingermark at the bottom,
alongside of the straggling signature, _J. Marshall_, Andrew read it
aloud:
"As I'm away at the fishing, it might be weel if ye
cam' home and lookit after the boat. Miss Elsie will
give ye a bit message. I would not leave her until the
tides get low."
Whitney smiled.
"You Scots are a remarkably cautious and capable lot," he said. "I can
imagine the wrinkled old image writing this, with a wooden face and a
chuckle inside. The meaning of the last sentence is cleverly
ambiguous. I suppose the boat is quite all right?"
"Of course; no tide could hurt her."
"It's plain then that Marshall thinks you're wanted on Miss
Woodhouse's account. I can have the motorcycle ready in five minutes,
and if we pull out now we can be home soon after dark. Will you tell
Dick?"
"No. We'll put him on the train, if there is one. Get that railway
guide."
Whitney opened it.
"If you mean to see him off, you'll have to wait an hour; and, on the
whole, I think you'd better. He seems to have made a number of
acquaintances in the bar. Anyway, with this light frost, the roads
will be good and hard."
Dick showed some unwillingness to leave the town, but Andrew was firm
and put him on the train. When it started, he joined Whitney, who was
waiting with the motorcycle.
The light was getting dim as they ran down the long dip to Hawick,
though pale saffron, barred with leaden gray, shone above the western
hills. When they swept down the last hill, frosty mist hung about the
woolen mills in the hollow, and Whitney throttled his engine as they
jolted past glimmering lights and half-seen houses.
"It doesn't look very cheerful for a fifty-mile run, but I suppose you
want to get on," he remarked.
"Yes," said Andrew. "I hope Dick won't miss the train at one of the
junctions, but he'll be all right if he reaches Carlisle. He can't
well get into trouble at the place we stay at there."
The mist melted into the keen brightness of a frosty night as they
climbed beside Teviot to the snow-sprinkled moors. Whitney's eyes were
watering and his hands numb as they crossed the high watershed.
"We haven't lost much time, so far, but I suppose I'd better let her
go her best," he said. "There oughtn't to be much traffic on the
road."
Andrew nodded and pulled the rug tighter round him as the motorcycle
leaped forward down the hill. He was eager to get back, for he felt
anxious. It was not for nothing that Marshall had warned him that he
was wanted.
There was moonlight in the shallow depression that led down from the
summit, but soon the hilltops rose higher and they plunged into a dark
glen. A glimmer of light flashed up to meet them, and as the side-car,
rocking wildly, raced past the Mosspaul hotel, Andrew remembered what
had happened there a few months previously. He had seen since then
that Dick had not been in much danger when Staffer's car swerved; the
risk of being struck down had been run by him only. Well, that did not
matter much. If any one was threatened now, it was neither himself nor
Dick, and it was horrible to feel that Elsie might be in some danger.
Whitney was driving recklessly fast, but Andrew frowned impatiently as
he watched the hillsides unfold out of the dark and rush by while the
throbbing of the engine filled the narrow glen.
They swung out at Ewes doors, leaning over hard as the car took the
curve with an inch or two between the wheel and the drop to the burn.
Then the widening valley grew bright again and they raced up and down
rolling hillsides, past scattered farms and white cothouses, until the
lights of Langholm stretched across the hollow. Whitney slowed his
engine here, but they narrowly escaped the wall, as they took the
bridge below the town, and then sped on again furiously through the
woods that line the brawling Esk.
Appleyard was reached in time for dinner, and Andrew was relieved to
find that Staffer was not at home. Everything was as usual; it was
difficult to imagine any cause for alarm; and he wondered whether he
had been needlessly disturbed. After dinner, Mrs. Woodhouse took
Whitney into the drawing-room and Andrew found Elsie knitting in a
corner of the hall.
She looked up with a smile when he sat down near her.
"Haven't you come home earlier than you planned?" she asked.
Andrew studied her face. It was quiet and undisturbed, but he
suspected a thoughtfulness that she meant to hide.
"Yes," he said. "I got a postcard from Marshall. He's at Stranraer and
seemed to think I ought to look after the boat."
"The boat? But it's fine weather. Isn't she quite safe?"
"Oh, the tides are pretty high and run up the gutter fast."
Elsie counted her stitches, and then gave him a quiet look.
"Dick was with you," she said; "so it couldn't have been on his
account that you came back."
Andrew smiled.
"That's obvious."
Elsie was silent for a moment, while a faint touch of color crept into
her face. His explanation about the boat had not deceived her, and
she had noted his searching glance when he first came in. Marshall
must have been hiding near by when she was talking to Staffer, and
have given Andrew a hint. It was for her sake he had hurried back. She
knew that he had hurried, because she had tactfully led Whitney into
making some admissions about their speed. She hardly thought she had
been in actual danger; but she knew that she was quite safe now, and
her heart went out to the man who had come to help. If only she could
confide in him! But it was impossible. His very loyalty to her made
her feel more strongly that she could not betray her uncle and bring
disgrace upon her mother.
"Marshall gave me a message for you," she said. "I'll deliver it as
nearly as I can."
She watched him as she repeated the fisherman's words. Andrew was a
bad actor and she was not misled by his clumsy indifference. It looked
as if he knew that the man with the red mustache had dealings with
Williamson and Staffer.
"Thank you," he said. "I'm afraid we'll have to go west again, before
long."
Elsie put down her knitting.
"You'll be careful, Andrew. I want you to keep out of danger."
His heart beat fast, for he saw that she was anxious about him. Elsie
knew something and would be sorry if he got hurt; but he must not
alarm her or show where his suspicions led.
"Of course I will," he answered cheerfully. "As a matter of fact, I'm
not running much risk."
"I'd rather you didn't think so; it leads to carelessness. You won't
be rash?"
"Certainly not. Tell me why you are anxious."
Elsie hesitated, and the color in her face grew deeper.
"Somehow, I seem to feel that trouble is hanging over us, and"--her
voice dropped to a caress--"I want to have you near."
Andrew caught his breath.
"Elsie," Mrs. Woodhouse interrupted, "I think Mr. Whitney would like
to have some music."