Simon

by J. Storer Clouston

  XVI

  RUMOUR

  One windy afternoon a man on a bicycle struggled up to the door ofStanesland Castle and while waiting for an answer to his ring, studiedthe front of that ancient building with an expression which would atonce have informed his intimates that he was meditating on theprinciples of Scottish baronial architecture. A few minutes later Mr.Bisset was shown into the laird of Stanesland's smoking room andaddressed Mr. Cromarty with a happy blend of consciousness of his ownimportance and respect for the laird's.

  "I have taken the liberty of calling, sir, for to lay before you a fewfresh datas."

  "Fire away," said the laird.

  "In the first place, sir, I understand that you have been makingenquiries through the county yourself, sir; is that not so?"

  "I've been through this blessed county, Bisset, from end to end to seewhether I could get on the track of any suspicious stranger. I've beenworking both with the police and independent of the police, and I'vedrawn blank."

  Bisset looked distinctly disappointed.

  "I've heard, sir, one or two stories which I was hoping might havesomething in them."

  "I've heard about half a dozen and gone into them all, and there'snothing in one of them."

  "Half a dozen stories?" Bisset's eye began to look hopeful again. "Well,sir, perhaps if I was to go into some of them again in the light of myfresh datas, they might wear, as it were, a different aspect."

  "Well," said Ned. "What have you found? Have a cigar and let's hear whatyou've been at."

  The expert crackled the cigar approvingly between his fingers, lit itwith increased approval, and began:

  "Yon man was behind the curtains all the time."

  "The devil he was! How do you know?"

  "Well, sir, it's a matter of deduction. Ye see supposing he came in bythe door, there are objections, and supposing he came in by the windiethere are objections. Either way there are objections which make itdifficult for to accept those theories. And then it struck me--the manmust have been behind the curtains all the while!"

  "He must have come either by the door or window to get there."

  "That's true, Mr. Cromarty. But such minor points we can consider in awee while, when we have seen how everything is otherwise explained. Nowsupposing we have the murderer behind the curtains; that brings himwithin six feet of where the wee table was standing. How did he get SirReginald to come to the table? He made some kind of sound. What kind ofsound? Some imitation of an animal; probably of a cat. How did SirReginald not cry out when he saw the man? Because he never did see theman! How did he not see him?"

  "Man was a ventriloquist and made a sound in the other direction,"suggested Ned with extreme gravity.

  "God, but that's possible, Mr. Cromarty! I hadna thought of that! Well,it'll fit into the facts all right, you'll see. My theory was thateither the man threw something at the master and knocked him down thatway, or he was able to reach out and give him a bat on the heid withoutmoving from the curtains."

  "He must have been an awkward customer."

  "He was that! A great tall man with long arms. And what had he at theend of them? Either a club such as savages use or something to throwlike a boomerang. And he could imitate animals, and as you say, he wasprobably a ventriloquist. And he was that active and strong he could getinto the house through one of the windies, just like a great monkey. Nowwhat's the history of that man?"

  "Pretty wild, I guess."

  "Ah, but one can say more than that, sir. He was not an ordinaryEnglishman or Scotchman. He was from the Colonies or America or one ofthae wild places! Is that not a fair deduction, sir?"

  "It all points to that," said Ned, with a curious look.

  "It points to that indeed, sir. Now where's he hidden himself? It shouldnot be difficult to find him with all that to go on."

  "A tall active strong man who has lived in the Colonies or America; oneought to get him. Has he only one eye, by any chance?"

  The reasoner gazed petrified at his counsellor.

  "God, but I've just described yoursel', sir!" he cried in an unhappyvoice.

  "You're determined to hang one of us, Bisset."

  For a moment Bisset seemed to find conversation difficult. Then he saidmiserably:

  "So it's no good, and all the alternatives just fa' to pieces."

  The extreme dejection of his voice struck the other sharply.

  "Alternatives to what?" he asked.

  For a few seconds Bisset did not answer.

  "What's on your mind, man?" demanded Cromarty.

  "The reason, sir, I've got that badly off the rails with my deductionsis just that I _had_ to find some other theory than the story that'sgoing about."

  "What story?"

  "You've no heard it, sir?"

  Ned shook his head.

  "I hardly like to repeat it, sir; it's that cruel and untrue. They'resaying Sir Malcolm and Miss Farmond had got engaged to be married."

  "Well?" said Ned sharply, and he seemed to control his feelings with aneffort.

  "A secret engagement, like, that Sir Reginald would never have allowed.But there I think they're right, sir. Sir Reginald was unco' taken upwith Miss Farmond, but he'd have looked higher for his heir. And so asthey couldn't get married while he was alive--neither of them having anymoney, well, sir, this story says--"

  He broke off and neither spoke for an instant.

  "Good God!" murmured Cromarty. "They actually accuse Malcolm Cromartyand Miss Cicely of--?"

  He paused too, and Bisset nodded.

  "Who is saying this?"

  "It seems to be the clash of the haill country by this time, sir."

  He seemed a little frightened at the effect of his own words; and it wassmall wonder. Ned Cromarty was a nasty looking customer at that moment.

  "Who started the lie?"

  "It's just ignorance and want of education of the people, I'm thinking,Mr. Cromarty. They're no able to grasp the proper principles--"

  "Lady Cromarty must be told! She could put a stop to it--"

  Something in Bisset's look pulled him up sharply.

  "I'm afraid her ladyship believes it herself, sir. Maybe you have heardshe has keepit Miss Farmond to stay on with her."

  "I have."

  "Well, sir," said Bisset very slowly and deliberately, "I'mthinking--it's just to watch her."

  Ned Cromarty had been smoking a pipe. There was a crack now as his teethwent through the mouthpiece. He flung the pipe into the fire, jumped up,and began pacing the room without a word or a glance at the other. Atlast he stopped as abruptly as he had started.

  "This slander has got to be stopped!"

  And then he paced on.

  "Just what I was saying to myself, sir. It was likely a wee thing ofover anxiety to stop it that made me think o' the possibility of a wildman from America, which was perhaps a bit beyond the limits of what yemight call, as it were, scientific deduction."

  "When did Lady Cromarty begin to take up this attitude?"

  "Well, the plain truth is, sir, that her ladyship has been keeping saemuch to herself that it's not rightly possible to tell what's been inher mind. But it was the afternoon when Mr. Rattar had been at the housethat she sent for Miss Farmond and tellt her then she was wanting her tostop on."

  "That would be after she knew the contents of the will! I wonder if theidea had entered her head before, or if the will alone started it? OldSimon would never start such a scandal himself about his best client. Heknows too well which side his bread is buttered for that! But he mighthave talked his infernal jargon about the motive and the people whostood to gain by the death. That might have been enough to set hersuspicions off."

  "Or I was thinking maybe, sir, it was when her ladyship heard of theengagement."

  "Ah!" exclaimed Ned, stopping suddenly again, "that's possible. When didshe hear?"

  Bisset shook his head.

  "That beats me again, sir. Her own maid likely has been telling herthings the time we've not been
seeing her."

  "Did the maid--or did you know about the engagement?"

  "Servants are uneducated creatures," said Bisset contemptuously. "Andwomen at the best have just the ae' thought--who's gaun to be foolenough to marry next? They were always gossiping about Mr. Malcolm andMiss Cicely, but there was never what I should call a data to found adeduction on; not for a sensible person. I never believed it myself, butit's like enough her ladyship may have suspected it for a while back."

  "I suppose Lady Cromarty has been nearly distracted?"

  "Very near, sir."

  "That's her only excuse. But the story is such obvious nonsense, Bisset,that surely no one in their proper senses really believes it?"

  The philosopher shook a wise head.

  "I have yet to learn, Mr. Cromarty, what folks will not believe."

  "They've got to stop believing this!" said Ned emphatically.