Simon

by J. Storer Clouston

  XVIII

  L1200

  Ned Cromarty had returned home and was going upstairs, when he heard avoice cry:

  "Ned!"

  The ancient stone stair, spiralling up round the time-worn pillar thatseemed to have no beginning or end, gave at intervals on to doors whichlooked like apertures in a cliff. Through one of these he turned and atthe end of a brief passage came to his sister's sitting room. In thatmediaeval setting of ponderous stone, it looked almost fantastic in itsdaintiness. It was a small room of many cushions and many colours, itsfloor covered with the softest rugs and its walls with innumerablephotographs, largely of country houses where Miss Cromarty had visited.

  Evidently she was a lady accustomed to a comfortable life in her rovingdays, and her sitting room seemed to indicate very distinctly that sheproposed to live up to this high standard permanently.

  "Oh Neddy dear, I want to talk to you about something," she began in herbrisk way and with her brightest smile.

  Her brother, though of a simple nature, was by this time aware that whenhe was termed "Neddy dear" the conversation was apt to turn on MissCromarty's requirements.

  "Well," said he, "how much is the cheque to be this time?"

  "How clever you're getting!" she laughed. "But it isn't a cheque I wantthis time. It's only a motor car."

  He looked at her doubtfully for a moment.

  "Pulling my leg; or a real car?"

  "Real car of course--nice one too!"

  "But, my dear girl, we've just put down our car. You agreed it wasnecessary."

  "I agreed then; but it isn't necessary now."

  "Have you come into a fortune? I haven't!"

  "You've come into L1200."

  Again he looked at her, and this time his expression changed.

  "That's only a debt wiped out."

  "Well, and your great argument for economy was that you had to pay backthat debt. Now you haven't. See, Neddy dear?"

  Her brother began to shake his head, and her smile became a little lessbright.

  "I don't want to get my affairs into a tangle again just yet."

  "But they weren't in a bad tangle. Cancelling that debt makes usabsolutely all right again. It's absurd for people like us not to have acar! Look at the distances from our neighbours! One can't go anywhere.I'll undertake to keep down the household expenses if you get the car."

  Her brother frowned out of the window.

  "No," he said, "it's too soon to get a car again."

  "But you told me you had got part of that L1200 in hand and hoped tomake up the rest very soon. What are you going to do with the moneynow?"

  He glanced at her over his shoulder for an instant and then his mouthassumed a grim and obstinate look she knew too well.

  "I may need the money," he said briefly. "And I'm not much in the moodat this moment for buying things."

  Behind his back Lilian made a little grimace. Then in a tone of sisterlyexpostulation she said:

  "You are worrying too much over this affair, Ned. You've done all youcan----"

  He interrupted her brusquely:

  "And it's dashed little! What have I actually done? Nothing! One needs abetter man than me."

  "Well, there's your friend Silent Simon, and all the police--"

  "A fat lot of good they are!" said Ned.

  His sister looked a little surprised at his unusual shortness of temper.To her he was very rarely like this.

  "You need a good day's shooting to take your mind off it for a little,"she suggested.

  He turned upon her hotly.

  "Do you know the story that's going about, Lilian?"

  "Sir Malcolm and the Farmond girl? Oh, rather," she nodded.

  "Is that how it strikes you?"

  Lilian Cromarty jumped. There was something very formidable in herbrother's voice.

  "My dear Ned, don't frighten me! Eat me if you like, but eat me quietly.I didn't say I believed the story."

  "I hope not," he said in the same grim tone, "but do you mean to say itdoesn't strike you as the damnedest slander ever spread?"

  "Between myself I hadn't called it the 'damnedest' anything. But how doI know whether it's a slander?"

  "You actually think it might conceivably be true?"

  She shrugged her well-gowned shoulders.

  "I never could stand Malcolm Cromarty--a conceited little jackanapes. Hehasn't a penny and he was head over ears in debt."

  It was his turn to start.

  "Was he?"

  "Oh, rather! Didn't you know? Owed money everywhere."

  "But such a crime as that!"

  "A man with ties and hair like his is capable of anything. You knowquite well yourself he is a rotter."

  "Anyhow you can't believe Cicely Farmond had anything to do with it?"

  Again she shrugged her shoulders.

  "My dear Ned, I'm not a detective. A pretty face is no proof a woman isa saint. I told you before that there was generally something in theblood in those cases."

  As he stared at her, it seemed as though her words had indeed rushedback to his memory, and that they hit him hard.

  "People don't say that, do they?" he asked in a low voice.

  "Really, Ned, I don't know everything people say: but they are notlikely to overlook much in such a case."

  He stood for a moment in silence.

  "She--I mean they've both got to be cleared!" he said, and strode out ofthe room.