The magnifying glass also made clearer the words at the base of both pieces of the map.
'Slow Moon Store' on the left hand. 'Simon's Brass' on the right. The former meant nothing, but the second was more meaningful. 'Simon' was the first name of the Jacobite spy; could 'Brass' refer to the thirty thousand he had stolen from Lord Tweeddale? My great sense of triumph rapidly faded when I realised that this plausible interpretation of 'Brass' did not bring me any nearer to solving the riddle. It merely added yet another dimension. If only we had the missing section and what decisive words, if any, it contained.
If only Jack were here.
The wretched mist had descended from Arthur's Seat once again, as so often happened, and I went to bed, my head buzzing with the day's events. Thinking of poor misunderstood M Debeau, it suddenly occurred to me that while we were in the realm of confidants he might have been the obvious person to interpret those letters, written by his fellow countryman a century and a half ago.
Then I went over my visit to Amy and the slightly vain hope that Jane's reappraisal of her aunt's letters would produce more clues to Mrs Lawers' odd behaviour other than the suggestion of approaching senility.
Another thought. Had her attitude to M Debeau been dictated by the fact that he was a Frenchman who had come to live next door and might have some sinister connection with the dangers that threatened her legacy?
I wasn't likely to find the answer to that one now that she had gone. I remembered that Amy had also had the vague impression that Mrs Lawers' confrontation with the bullying man involved him going on about his rights, which would suggest that he was no stranger and might be distantly related.
Next morning, after a restless night, I awoke to a balmy sunny day. The mist had lifted and I desperately needed fresh air and exercise. A quick breakfast, then with Thane loping along the verge of the road, we headed in the direction of the loch.
Suddenly he was rushing ahead, nose down. Ten yards ahead, he stopped, turned, looked at me.
'What's wrong? What have you found?'
I reached his side and on the steep slope down to the loch, at the side of a small tree which had halted its descent into the sun-sparkling waters, a still, huddled shape.
A body.
Even before scrambling down for a closer examination, I knew what to expect.
There had been another death on the road outside Solomon's Tower.
While I was considering going back for my bicycle, riding into town to notify the police, a cart appeared labouring up the hill from the loch. I stopped the farmer, told him about the accident.
'I think he's dead.'
'Better have a look, might just be injured,' said the farmer, who leapt down the slope. I followed after and watched as he knelt down and turned over the dead man.
He was a tall youngish man. The farmer sighed, took off his bonnet and reverently closed the bright, clear blue eyes, still wide open in death.
The farmer shook his head sadly. 'Poor laddie. Probably drinking too much, got lost in that damned fog last night, staggered and missed his footing. I signed the pledge years since, but I've lads of my own.'
To my question he nodded, 'Aye, lass, I'm for the town. I'll let the police know, but first things first.' I waited while he went for a sack to cover the body.
I knew I had seen eyes like that before. The eyes visible below the helmet of the bogus policeman who had lured me to the hospital to ransack the Tower.
I felt suddenly very sick. I had met my burglar again.
I must have looked shocked for the farmer said, 'Don't upset yourself, lass. You go on home; the police will know what to do about this.' He had never heard of Rose McQuinn, lady investigator.
Still preoccupied with the identity of the dead man and his connection with the break-in, I returned to the Tower, alert for the arrival of the police. I didn't have long to wait.
A police carriage hurtled past and a short while afterwards I opened the door to a couple of uniformed policemen led by Chief Inspector Gray. He bowed politely.
'Have you a moment, Mrs McQuinn?'
I indicated that he follow me into the kitchen.
He sat down at the table, studied me with that intent gaze which must have disconcerted many an innocent man as well as the guilty.
'Just a few questions. I gather you discovered the body ...'
Gray asked me to go through the details again. When I finished with the arrival of the farmer, he repeated, perhaps for the benefit of the policeman who stood by with his notebook at the ready, 'A man's body found on the roadside, just at the corner where the road goes steeply down to the loch. I presume he was a stranger to the area.'
I wanted to say 'not quite', but bit back the words, utterance of which would have led into a long preamble. I shook my head and asked, 'Have you identified him?'
'Not yet. No papers or anything like that. But we'll soon find out.'
'Nothing in his pockets?'
Gray gave me a hard look. 'That's elementary police work, Mrs McQuinn.' A touch of scorn.
In defence I said, 'I just thought it unusual. He was well dressed; I would have guessed from my cursory look that he would be carrying money, a wallet perhaps.'
'Well, this gentleman had empty pockets, not even a watch chain. It was most likely an accidental death. Drunk perhaps, fell out of a carriage in the fog. Or walking, hit by a passing carriage.'
My mind was racing ahead. 'If it wasn't an accident, he could have been attacked, knocked unconscious, any valuables stolen and then pushed down the slope, his assailant hoping he would land in the loch. His body entangled in weeds could have lain there undiscovered for some time.'
Gray sighed wearily. He was not impressed. 'These are idle speculations, Mrs McQuinn. Circumstantial evidence,' he reminded me, and I guessed, although he was being painstakingly polite, he found my questions rather irritating.
He nodded to the policeman, who closed his notebook. The interview was over. I wasn't a suspect.
'Anything else I can do for you?'
He stood up. 'You'll need to sign a statement. Your house is the nearest habitation and you were the first on the scene and discovered the body, down that steep slope to the loch. Surely a rather dangerous descent for a young woman.'
He gave me a quizzical look and I said, 'It was my dog here who discovered the body, not I. I only guessed something was amiss and went down to inspect in case the person was merely injured.'
Thane had sat by my side, a silent observer to this meeting, glancing from one to the other as if he understood exactly what was being said. Very polite and respectful, he had the measure of CI Gray and made no overtures of friendliness to this man who had so far ignored his presence but now gave him a sharp glance followed by a dismissive shrug.
Then to me a thin smile. 'Apologies for taking up your time, but as you will be familiar in your own work, the evidence of the first person' - he emphasised the word - 'on the scene is of vital importance.' Another pause, a quizzical eyebrow raised. 'If you have anything to add?'
He hadn't asked directly if I recognised the body and I certainly wasn't prepared to tell him that the dead man was the bogus policeman who had lured me to the hospital to visit Jack, then broken into the Tower but stolen nothing.
That was my investigation, mine to solve and I wasn't prepared to have him take it off my hands.
More significant, I thought of M Debeau's arrival - his distraught and dishevelled appearance - but closed my mind firmly on that. I had one more question. 'When did this happen?'
A weary sigh from Gray, eager to be gone. 'Our police doctor speculates sometime during the hours of last night.'
That let M Debeau off. This was Thursday. I did a quick calculation. It was on Tuesday that M Debeau staggered into the Tower lost and injured in the heavy mist on Arthur's Seat. It cleared during the day but came down again last night and set the stage for a further victim. And although M Debeau lived in nearby Duddingston and had been detained by Inspe
ctor Gray for questioning in connection with the deaths of Mrs Lawers and Hinton, it was highly unlikely that the Frenchman had recovered sufficiently from his ordeal to tackle the mist once again as the bogus policeman's killer.
I followed Gray to the door, where his two men were lingering by the gate. They were grinning at some secret joke but the approach of the chief inspector wiped the smiles off their faces.
They saluted him, turned and looked me over with an interest that suggested I had been under discussion and they knew that I was the woman who lived with Inspector Macmerry. I wondered what else was common knowledge and whether either of them knew the actors' friend who had passed on so many details of Jack's personal life.
Gray turned. 'Interesting old house, Mrs McQuinn. Wasn't sure whether you'd be at home. Thought you might have gone down to the Borders with Jack.'
I smiled. 'Not this time.'
'You'll have him home very soon. We had a letter, telling us to expect him back for duty at the beginning of the week.'
That was nice, I thought, closing the door, especially as I hadn't had as much as a postcard. To be truthful, business was business with Jack and I hadn't expected one.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
That evening I was still battling with deciphering the map and the other documents spread out on the table in the Great Hall and making notes. Had it a connection with the dead man, my bogus policeman? Then from the kitchen a familiar voice. 'Anyone at home?'
'Jack!'
I rushed through and he had hardly time to put down his case before my arms were around his neck.
He grinned. 'You missed me.'
'Yes! Let me look at you. Well, you certainly look as if you've had a good rest; I'm relieved to see that.'
'Ma's cooking, good fresh air, that's the ticket - you should try it sometime.'
I promised to do so and he said quickly, 'She sends you her love, talks a lot about you.' I acknowledged this with a grateful smile and he added, 'Any tea forthcoming?'
In his favourite armchair stretching out his legs with a sigh of contentment that indicated he was happy to be home, he added, 'What news?'
'Just that there's been a body found near the loch - this morning.'
'Yes, victim of another of Arthur's Seat's seasonal mists, I gather.'
'You gather? You knew?'
He nodded. 'Looked into the Central Office on my way home. Just to keep up with events. I gather you were asked a lot of questions by Gray.' He grinned. 'Did they line you up as a possible suspect - first on the scene, that sort of thing?'
'Thane was first on the scene.'
He laughed. 'Well, you know the rules - always the person nearest or the one who finds the body.'
'So they think it is murder? I thought Gray was regarding it as an accident.'
He shook his head. 'They're just biding their time. What with the Duddingston business, perhaps being overcautious. And they have yet to find the man's identity.'
I looked at Jack; at that moment more than any other I wanted to tell him about the break-in, the bogus policeman. But I hesitated as I had with Gray. Had I told Jack the morning he was leaving for his parents, he would have insisted that he stay. Worse, he would have insisted that this was police business. More questions from Gray. And there had been nothing stolen; my standing with the chief inspector, already one of scorn, was hardly going to improve with a tale of a break-in I couldn't prove, the burglar a bogus policeman I couldn't identify. I could see even Jack's reactions - his doubts, hints that I was becoming obsessive about the Lawers legacy.
After all, I had never been in any danger apart from that first train journey. I would tell him sometime, but not until I had solved the case. I said merely, 'I found the absence of a wallet or a watch chain in a well-dressed man very suspicious.'
Jack nodded in agreement. 'The absence of identity fits in with robbery and murder. The killer disposing of his body by throwing him down the slope into the loch, to be found, at some future date, drowned.'
He paused to eat the sandwich I had provided. 'Good this! Seen Meg, have you?'
I told him of Mrs Blakers unannounced visit with Meg when he was away and her invitation that we go and see them when he returned. He nodded approvingly but was quick to change the subject and said, 'I gather from the office there's absolutely nothing new on Mrs Lawers.'
I smiled watching him eat. There were quite a lot of new developments from my point of view. 'Mr Hayward's help about the map has been invaluable. When you've finished, it's all spread out on the big table through there.'
He put a delaying hand on my arm. 'First, all I've missed. Bring me up to date - right back to the beginning. When I was in hospital this business of the legacy and your attempts to deliver it - what really happened, Rose?'
So I told him then, somewhat reluctantly, about the attack on the train by the bogus maid Hinton.
He was even more horrified and concerned than I had expected.
'You are quite certain she drugged your tea in the station?'
'Well, it's very unlikely that I fell asleep on that short journey.'
Jack shook his head and said sternly, 'This is a police case, Rose. You should have told me--'
'And you would have told me to call it off.'
'Then you should have gone straight to Gray.'
'And faced his arch sneers about my imagination? No, thank you. This was my problem, it's what I do for a living, remember. You know me better than this, Jack. My case, and I was going to investigate it. Especially when both the women were murdered.'
'And you were likely to be the next on the killer's list,' Jack added grimly. 'Yes, you do thrive on danger - I've seen evidence of that with my own eyes. So you went back again, in spite of it all.'
'I was armed - with my derringer, this time.'
Jack sighed deeply as I added, 'To find that the relative who refused to accept the legacy in the first place had died of a heart attack. I fared no better at Tarnbrae. It will be news to you, but Meg's uncle has remarried.'
I told him about the new wife and the four children and said, 'Meg had been moved into the Lochandor orphanage and then to Edinburgh, just down the road at Newington. I felt quite heartened by that, so near to us. But no, another false trail; she had been moved once again, this time settled with prospective adoptive parents. You can imagine my relief when I met her happily installed with the Blakers in Joppa.'
Jack's head jerked up. 'That was your first meeting? What did you think of her?' he asked anxiously.
I took his hand. 'Jack dear, she's your image, I would have picked her out in a hundred children as your daughter. Same eyes, same smile, even your sandy hair.'
'Poor kid. Not destined to be a great beauty.'
'She's lovely.'
He grinned and I knew that he was pleased - and under it all, I sensed a feeling of relief. Babies all look alike, even to fathers, but a little girl aged three is a person, and when they met Jack would know now, without doubt, that he had fathered her. He said, 'We must go and see her.'
'I thought you were calling in at Joppa on the way back.'
'Wanted to see you,' he said quickly, but he was uncomfortable. It was a lie, a nice one specially for my benefit, but I wasn't the reason for his change of mind. He was on a cliff edge, scared of his possible reception by his little daughter. What if she didn't recognise him, turned away from him? No, he wanted - needed - support when they met for the first time in her new home.
Watching me pour another cup of tea, he asked, 'Any more adventures to report?'
I told him about the meeting with Beth and her extraordinary story about the switched babies. 'I was beginning to remember all those terrible tales about baby farmers in the eighties.'
'The police haven't forgotten, Rose. They are keeping a close eye on places like Lochandor Convalescent Home, especially where there is an orphanage attached for unwanted babies.'
I was relieved to hear that and we went through to the Great Hall with the
pieces of the map spread on the table.
'They certainly seem to be part of the same map, with a piece cut out from the centre,' Jack said.
'I don't know if there are words on that missing piece, but look at this ...' And I gave him the magnifying glass to study the words 'Slow Moon Store' and 'Simon's Brass'.
As he studied them thoughtfully I said, 'They must be significant. Simon was the first name of the Jacobite spy, according to the evidence of Lord Tweeddale's letters to the Court of Enquiry. And 'Brass' could refer to the thirty thousand pounds he stole from Pinkie House and carried to Prince Charlie.'
Jack put down the glass and I went on slowly, 'This might interest you: Reslaw was his second name. Rearrange the letters, and behold! You get Lawers.'
'Good girl - I'd never have thought of that and it's so obvious.' Leaning over he kissed me: my reward!
We both looked at the words again and I wrote them down.
'Slow Moon Store - wait a minute. That's Solomon's Tower.'
Jack was writing busily. 'Rearrange the letters of Simon's Brass and we get an anagram of Samson's Ribs.'
We hugged each other and looked at the map again.
Jack whistled. 'We've got it, Rose, the answer - the missing piece of the map. Samson's Ribs with Solomon's Tower. And that's here - where Reslaw hid the treasure.'
'So now we have a clue to the identity of our fugitive in the secret room. None other than Simon Reslaw - who had cheated both Hanoverians and Jacobites and made off with thirty thousand pounds.'
We stood up in one movement. Jack took my hand.
'It must be up there - in the secret room. Come on!'
We seized oil lamp and candles, raced up the spiral stair, opened the panel into that dark forbidding room and looked around. Stone walls, a chair and table, a few shelves in a recess, my hiding place for the documents the burglar sought in vain.
Rose McQuinn 7 - Deadly Legacy Page 18