Murder of a Lady

by Anthony Wynne

  “Ah, what hurts me is sitting here, alone.”

  The moon had come westward, and was high above their heads as they emerged from the Castle. In this light the sham medievalism of the building was tolerable largely because one could no longer see it. There had happened at Duchlan what happened all over the Highlands when the lairds became rich in the middle of the nineteenth century, namely, an attempt to turn the old bare house of the chiefs of the clan into a feudal castle on the English model. Turrets, balustrades, and the rest of the paraphernalia of baronialism had been heaped about a dwelling formerly humble and beautiful, to the profit of the local builder and the loss of the community.

  The old man walked slowly and the journey to the lodge took a long time. John MacCallien tried, once or twice, to talk but failed to awaken any response. Dr. Hailey noticed that each time Duchlan stopped, and he stopped frequently, he turned and looked out, across the loch. On these occasions he seemed to be listening. Once, when a seabird screeched, he dropped his walking-stick. The doctor began to observe him and soon made up his mind that this excursion was predetermined. But to what was he listening? The night was still and without voice.

  “My sister delighted in this walk,” he told his companions. “She had travelled widely but maintained that the view from the north lodge was the most beautiful she had seen. I like to think that she may be watching us now.”

  He addressed Dr. Hailey. “We Highland folk,” he said in low tones, “partake of the spirit of our hills and lochs. That’s the secret of what the Lowlanders, who will never understand us, call our pride. Yes, we have pride; but the pride of blood, of family; of our dear land. Highlanders are ready to die for their pride.”

  It was gently spoken, but in accents which thrilled. Duchlan, clearly, was assured of the reality of those ideas on which his life was based. He had marched all the way to fanaticism; but, your fanatic, the doctor reflected, is ever a sceptic at heart.

  They reached the lodge. The old man struck a match and looked at his watch.

  “It’s two o’clock,” he announced, “or so I make it. What do you say, Doctor?”

  “I’m afraid my watch has stopped.”

  John MacCallien held his wrist up to the moon.

  “Yes,” he declared, “just two o’clock precisely.”

  “I bid you good morning, gentlemen.”

  Duchlan bowed ceremoniously and turned back. They watched him until his figure could no longer be distinguished from the shadows.

  John MacCallien was about to pass through the lodge gates when the doctor put his hand on his arm.

  “I should like to see Duchlan reach home,” he said.

  “Oh, he’s on his own ground, you know.”

  “Listen, my dear fellow. You go back to Darroch Mor and leave the front door on the latch for me. I’ll follow as soon as I’ve satisfied myself that everything’s all right.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  The doctor shook his head.

  “Forgive me, if I say that I would rather go alone. And allow me to postpone explanations.”

  “My dear Hailey.”

  “I have good reasons for what I’m doing.”

  John MacCallien belonged to that rare type which is content to leave other folk to conduct their affairs in their own way. He nodded, took out his pipe, and began to fill it.

  “Very well.”

  Dr. Hailey left him and hurried along the avenue after Duchlan. As he had foreseen, the old man was capable of walking fast when occasion required. He did not come up with him. When he reached the castle, he assured himself that Duchlan had not returned home; the light was still burning in the window of the study and the room was empty. Very cautiously, he approached the lighted window without, however, crossing the flower-bed which separated it from the carriage-way.

  Where had the old man gone? He walked along the front of the house, passing from the carriage-way to the steep bank which he had seen from Miss Gregor’s window. He descended the bank, keeping a sharp look-out to right and left. But he reached the burn without seeing anybody.

  The stream broadened out above the jetty. It was high tide and the water was deep. He had an excellent view of the motor-boat. He raised his eyeglass to determine if there was anyone aboard and concluded that there was nobody. He thought of walking down the jetty and then decided against a course which must make him conspicuous to anybody standing among the trees on the far side of the burn. Doubts of the process of reasoning which had brought him back to the castle began to assail him; but when he recalled that process he put them away. Duchlan had fussed with his watch both before leaving the castle and at the lodge gate. He had been at pains to impress on the minds of his companions that two o’clock had struck before he left them. The inference seemed justified that he was anxious that some event, timed to occur at two o’clock, should not be laid to his account.

  A twig snapped amongst the trees on the opposite side of the burn. Dr. Hailey turned and stood listening. He heard a window being opened. He crouched down. Footsteps approached and passed. Then the moonlight showed him a woman descending towards the jetty.

  She walked slowly, seeming to linger at every step. He could see that she was young. As she approached the end of the jetty she stood and turned. The moon gave him a view of her face and he observed the tense, strained poise of her head. Suddenly she raised her arms and stretched them out towards the castle. She remained in this attitude for several seconds. Then her arms fell to her side and she turned to the water which shone and glimmered round the pier at her feet. A sound, like a subdued cough, which seemed to come from close at hand, made him turn his head and gaze into the shadows across the burn. A splash recalled him. The woman had disappeared.

  Chapter VI

  Oonagh Gregor

  Dr. Hailey ran to the end of the jetty. The woman was struggling in the water a few feet away. He threw off his coat and jumped in.

  She sank as he approached, but he dived and a moment later brought her to the surface. The moon gave him a glimpse of her face and he saw that she had fainted. He brought her to the bank. Then he laid her down and began artificial respiration.

  He was not immediately successful and paused for a moment to breathe himself. He lit his lamp and glanced at the woman’s face. She was beautiful, with jet black hair.

  An exclamation broke from his lips. Two long bruises made semicircles round her throat. He bent to examine them. The purple colour was deep and fixed. The bruises had been inflicted at least twelve hours before. No doubt could exist that somebody had attempted to strangle this girl.

  The discovery shook his nerve, but he realized the necessity of immediate action. He extinguished the lamp and set to work again. At last she breathed naturally. When he stopped to allow the rhythm of breathing to establish itself, he thought he heard footsteps behind him. But his lamp failed to reveal anybody. Her breathing was fitful and seemed ready to cease at any moment. He continued his work and laboured for what seemed a very long time before her distressed sighing was disciplined to regularity. Her pulse had acquired a larger volume. He illuminated her face once more and raised one of her eyelids so that the strong stimulus of the light might reach her brain. She moved and closed her eyes firmly, resisting him. A moan broke from her lips. A moment later he caught the words—“your sake” and “failure”.

  He patted her cheek, calling to her. After a moment she opened her eyes. She gazed vacantly into the darkness.

  “I was so frightened.”

  She raised her hand as though inviting help. He took it and rubbed it. He felt her fingers tighten.

  “I was so frightened…”

  “Don’t worry. You’re all right now.”

  The vacant look in her eyes changed to fear. She withdrew her hand sharply.

  “Where am I?” she cried in tones of great distress.

  “You�
��re all right.”

  “Oh, no, no.” She caught her breath and then, with a swift gesture, pushed his hand away so that the beam no longer shone on her face.

  “I was drowning?”

  “Yes.”

  “You shouldn’t have rescued me.”

  She clutched at him with both her hands. “I feel terribly weak…dreadful.”

  He took his flask from his pocket and opened it.

  “Drink a little of this,” he urged.

  “What is it?”

  “Brandy.”

  She obeyed him and the spirit kindled her anxiety.

  “Why did you rescue me?” she moaned, then, suddenly and with bitterness: “Who are you?”

  He told her. When he had spoken she remained silent for a few minutes. Then she said:

  “I’m Oonagh Gregor. Eoghan Gregor’s wife.”

  “So I guessed.”

  She offered no further explanation. He heard her begin to shiver and made her drink again from his flask.

  “Are you strong enough to walk to the castle?”

  “No. No.”

  “You can’t stay here.”

  A sob broke from her lips. “Please don’t ask me to go back there. I…I can’t go back there.”

  “Why not?”

  Her teeth chattered and her breath came in short gasps. He recognized that she was making a great effort to control herself.

  “Please don’t ask me, Dr. Hailey. I can’t go back.”

  “Very well then, you must come to Darroch Mor, at once.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “I insist.”

  He stood erect as he spoke and, for the first time, realized how exhausted he was and how stiff. His wet clothes clung to his body inhospitably. He held out his hands to her, but she refused them.

  “Please leave me,” she cried. “Please go back to Darroch Mor yourself.” Her voice failed. Her posture expressed utter dejection.

  “Listen to me,” he urged in gentle tones. “Whatever your motive in jumping into the water may have been, that attempt has failed. Providence, if I may say so, has preserved your life. And surely for a purpose. You cannot repeat the attempt because, if need be, I shall remain with you till morning. And I’m stronger than you are. In the morning I shall hand you over to the police if I think there is the least likelihood of your repeating your attempt.”

  “You don’t understand. My life isn’t worth saving. I promise you that it isn’t worth saving.”

  “There’s your son.”

  She cried out:

  “Don’t remind me of him.”

  “I must remind you of him.”

  “He’ll forget. He won’t remember. He won’t know…” She broke off, wringing her hands.

  “Would you leave him to strangers?”

  “Strangers. It’s I who am the stranger.”

  Dr. Hailey remained silent a moment then he said:

  “I saw those bruises on your neck.”

  Her hands went up to the collar of her dress. She drew it more tightly round her neck. She did not answer him.

  “A doctor can see at a glance that you were attacked by someone within the last twenty-four hours.”

  Still she offered no explanation. After a little while he urged her to tell him what had happened.

  “If you’re frank with me, I think I may be able to help you,” he said. “Believe me, it’s folly not to be frank in such cases as this.”

  “I would rather not talk about it.”

  Suddenly she raised her face to him.

  “In a sense your knowledge of those bruises is a professional secret?” she asked.

  “Possibly.”

  “Promise me you won’t tell anybody about them.”

  He considered for a moment.

  “Very well,” he said. He extended his arm. “I insist on your walking. You mustn’t sit still. It’s as much as your life’s worth.”

  She rose and, after a moment’s hesitation, took his arm. He thought that her weakness was passing; a moment later she reeled and would have fallen if he had not supported her.

  “I don’t think I can walk.”

  “You must try.”

  He gave her his flask again and made her drink from it. They stumbled laboriously along the shore of the loch towards a clump of trees through which the carriage-way passed. When they reached the first of these trees he stood to allow her to breathe herself.

  “I think you would comfort yourself,” he told her, “if you confessed why you tried to take your life.”

  “No.”

  “Duchlan knew that you were going to drown yourself.”

  She started away from him and then caught at the trunk of a tree. In the silence which fell between them, he heard the screech owl keeping its vigil beside the castle.

  “How do you know that?”

  “He came down here a little time ago.”

  “He told you?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  She sighed, expressing her relief. She took his arm again.

  “It’s my business to guess what people do not tell me,” he said, “and that has become my habit. If your father-in-law knew what you were going to do, he must have approved, since he did not prevent. That can only mean that he associates you in some way with the death of his sister.”

  He paused. He was aware that she had listened to him with breathless attention.

  “Well?”

  “I can’t tell you anything.”

  “You don’t deny the justice of my reasoning.”

  “I can’t tell you anything.”

  He considered a moment, wondering whether or not to try further to probe the secret. At last he said:

  “I may be wrong but Duchlan impressed me as a man who would sacrifice anybody to his family pride. I fancy he has persuaded himself that his position as head of his family is a responsibility which must at all costs be discharged. He was prepared to let you drown. Your life constituted, I conclude, a danger to his family.”

  “Please don’t go on. I…I can’t bear it. Not just now at any rate.”

  She pleaded rather than protested. She was leaning heavily on his arm.

  “Forgive me.”

  They reached the carriage-way and turned left handed towards Darroch Mor. After a few paces she stopped to breathe.

  “Will you not leave me here?”

  “No.”

  “If you only understood.”

  “Perhaps I do understand.”

  She seemed to summon all her courage. She began to walk again and slowly and painfully they came to the lodge where Duchlan had turned back.

  “I can’t go to Darroch Mor.”

  He thought that she was about to try to escape from him, but realized a moment later, when she sank down on her knees, how greatly he had overestimated her strength. He bent and picked her up and carried her some way in his arms.

  “Can you walk a little now?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  She made an attempt but failed. Again he carried her and again found himself overcome.

  “We stayed too long on the shore.”

  She did not answer. She did not seem to care what happened or where he took her, so long as he didn’t take her back to Duchlan. After what seemed a long time, they came to the gate of Darroch Mor. She drew back suddenly:

  “I can’t come in.”

  She stood facing him; he could see that she was panic-stricken like a hunted creature.

  “How can you stay out here?”

  She shook her head.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I refuse to leave you. Very soon Colonel MacCallien will come to look for me.”

  She caught at his arm, and held it in tense fingers.
>
  “Were you alone when you rescued me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But Duchlan was watching?”

  “He may have been.”

  “Did he see you rescue me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She glanced at the moon.

  “If he was watching he must have seen. He’ll know that we’ve come here.”

  “Perhaps.”

  She shuddered.

  “He’ll send Eoghan.”

  Suddenly she grew still, listening. They heard footsteps approaching from the direction of Duchlan.

  Dr. Hailey turned and saw a tall man striding toward them. He flashed the beam of his torch on the man’s face. The girl uttered a cry of dismay.

  Chapter VII

  A Woman Who Sees a Ghost

  Her husband’s arrival exerted a singular effect on Oonagh. She seemed to gather her wits and discipline them in an instant. When Eoghan demanded in tones in which anxiety and anger were mingled why she had left Duchlan, she answered:

  “Because I had something to say to Dr. Hailey.”

  The words were spoken with a degree of assurance which was the more remarkable from the brightness of the moon. It seemed to the doctor that Gregor must observe the condition of his wife’s clothing. But apparently he was too agitated to observe anything.

  “It’s dreadfully inconsiderate of you,” he cried, “especially at such a time. My father roused me to come to look for you. He’s terribly distressed.”

  “He knows that I wished to talk to Dr. Hailey.”

  “But not at this hour, surely!”

  “Did your father tell you where to find me?”

  “He said you might be here.”

  “He knew where I was.”

  Eoghan remained silent, gazing at his wife. He faced the moon and Dr. Hailey saw that his features expressed a deep melancholy.

  “I should like you to come back with me now.”

  “No, Eoghan.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t come back to Duchlan.”

  A look of bewilderment appeared on the young man’s face.

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t.”