“Yes, torture,” he cried. “That’s the only word that applies. You didn’t know Miss Gregor; I did. A woman without a flicker of compassion; devoured by jealousy and family pride. She had not married, I believe, because the idea of losing her name of Gregor of Duchlan was intolerable to her. It may seem a grotesque idea, but I am convinced that it was her instinct to be the mother as well as the daughter of her race. Fate, as it happened, had allowed her to realize that instinct in the case of Eoghan. Mrs. Eoghan, however, robbed her of its complete fulfilment. She dared to assert her wifehood and her motherhood. Eoghan loved her more than he loved his aunt. It was obvious that as soon as the slender thread of Duchlan’s life was broken, Miss Gregor’s reign at the castle would end for ever.” McDonald paused and then added: “Unless, in the meanwhile, husband and wife could be estranged from one another and separated permanently. In that case Hamish would fall into his aunt’s hands just as his father had done before him. Miss Gregor would remain the mistress of Duchlan.”
He turned as he spoke and faced his accuser. Barley was too good a student of human nature not to be impressed, but he was also a practical man, well able to judge of the motives underlying any process of reasoning.
“You are telling me, remember,” he warned, “that neither you nor Mrs. Eoghan could expect any mercy from Miss Gregor. That is exactly what I believe myself.”
“What does that prove?”
“It supplies a strong motive for the crime which, as I believe, you committed between you.”
The doctor started.
“What? You think I murdered Miss Gregor?”
“With the help of Mrs. Eoghan.”
McDonald’s face darkened. He wiped his brow again. Dr. Hailey saw him glance out of the window as though an impulse to escape had come to him. Then he began to laugh.
“You must be crazy. Crazy! How do you suppose I got into the woman’s bedroom?”
He wiped his brow again. He sat down and disposed his leg with the most attentive care.
“By the door.”
“What? Do you mean to say you don’t know that the door was locked?”
“Eoghan Gregor says it was not locked.”
The doctor stared. He repeated in tones of bewilderment:
“Eoghan says it was not locked? Why I saw the carpenter cut out the lock.”
“Did you try the handle?”
“No.”
“So your knowledge is at second-hand.”
“The carpenter tried the handle.”
“He told you that?”
“Good gracious, no, I saw him do it. He tried it several times.”
Barley blinked his eyes. “That, however, was in the morning. What I am suggesting is that the door was unlocked when you left the nursery at the end of your visit on the night before?”
“It was locked then too. Mrs. Eoghan heard her aunt lock it.”
“Forgive me, Mrs. Eoghan’s evidence is of no value on that point.”
McDonald laughed again. “I see. It’s a case of heads I win, tails you lose, is it?”
“My dear sir, Miss Gregor was murdered. Somebody, therefore, entered the room and escaped from it. And human beings do not pass through doors and windows. It’s easier, in my humble opinion, to assume that Mrs. Eoghan and yourself have given an untrue account of your doings than to believe that the laws of nature have been set aside.”
“How do you suggest that I killed the old woman? With my wooden leg?”
“No, sir. I believe that Mrs. Eoghan brought an axe from the kitchen. The servants had gone to bed.”
“I see.” The doctor drew a deep breath. “And the herring scale that was found in the wound, where did that come from?”
“Possibly from the blade of the axe.”
“You have still to explain how the door locked itself on the inside, haven’t you?”
“I believe I can explain that too.”
Barley had recovered his suavity; like a huntsman whose quarry has turned at bay, he seemed to be making ready to deal a final blow.
“I shall be surprised,” he declared, “if positive proof is not soon forthcoming that you did murder Miss Gregor. Very greatly surprised! I go farther than that. I know where to look for that proof and I know that, when I do look for it, I shall find it.”
He spoke with complete conviction.
Dr. Hailey experienced a sense of bewilderment, which, he saw, was shared, fully, by McDonald. How could it be proved that the doctor had entered the bedroom? Or that he had escaped from it again without passing through the door?
“There’s one further point,” Barley said, “on which I am seeking enlightenment. Do you remember who was the first to enter Miss Gregor’s room after the lock had been cut from the door?”
“I was.”
“Were the blinds in the room drawn?”
“Yes.”
“Did you open them?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Now tell me, was the amputation which made it necessary for you to wear a wooden leg a high or a low amputation?”
“A high amputation.”
“So that you walk with difficulty?”
“Oh, no.”
“I mean you’re always in some danger of slipping or falling?”
McDonald shook his head. He raised his wooden leg from the floor, using both hands in the work.
“As you see,” he remarked, “I wear a special shoe in this foot. These nails in the sole are guaranteed to grip anything.”
On the way back to the castle, Barley asked Dr. Hailey if he had noticed that no mention of the murder of Dundas had been made by McDonald.
“Every moment I expected to hear him advance that second murder as proof of his innocence.”
“Why?”
“Because guilty people always overstate their cases.”
“I see. Does that mean that you harbour some doubts about his guilt?”
“Not doubts exactly. I believe my case is good; good enough to secure a unanimous verdict from any jury. But it’s a case in logic rather than in personal conviction. Frankly, McDonald doesn’t seem to me to fill the part assigned to him.”
“I agree with you.”
“And the same applies to Mrs. Eoghan?”
“Yes.”
“And yet the choice undoubtedly lies between them and Eoghan Gregor. And we know now that Eoghan Gregor lied to us.”
“About the locked door?”
“Exactly. The carpenter did try the door.” Barley lay back on the cushions and combed his moustache. “I left a message that he was to be called to the castle. We shall hear his own story.”
“You didn’t ask any questions, I noticed,” Dr. Hailey said, “about Mrs. Eoghan’s flight to McDonald’s house?”
“No. He would have told me what he told you. Frankly, since I’ve seen him, I feel less sure about the circumstances of that flight. I begin to think that he is in love with her. In that case it’s certain that he didn’t reject her.”
“And therefore unlikely that she offered herself.”
Barley shook his head in his most emphatic manner.
“No, no; that doesn’t follow. Women in love seldom or never count the cost, and therefore act as a rule with extreme rashness. But it’s quite another matter with men in love. A man, happily, never loses his social sense, no, not even when he seems to be ready to abandon himself. The ages have branded it upon the male mind that work that is service must have first place. McDonald, I believe, suggested the secret meetings which afterwards took place. But he sent Mrs. Eoghan home that night. He was not ready to immolate his professional being.”
Chapter XXIII
Footprints
The carpenter awaited them. He was a tall lean man with big features and clear, bright eyes. He made short work of th
e idea that the door had not been locked when he opened it.
“It was locked,” he declared. “I tried the handle mysel’. What is more I tried to force the lock. But that’s not possible with these doors. I dare say that you knew that Duchlan’s father was a locksmith.”
Barley nodded. “You’re prepared to swear, are you,” he asked, “that the key had been turned on the inside?”
“I am.”
The detective dismissed the man and told Angus to bring a pair of bellows from the kitchen. Then he invited Dr. Hailey to accompany him.
“I promised you positive proof of McDonald’s guilt,” he said. “And will now furnish it. I warn you to be prepared for a surprise. As you’ve just heard, Eoghan Gregor’s story is a fabrication.”
They left the house and walked to the flower-bed which lay under the window of Miss Gregor’s bedroom. The detective took the bellows from the piper.
“Observe,” he said, “that Miss Gregor’s room is immediately above the study. Also that the earth in this bed is quite dry. Mr. McLeod, the Procurator Fiscal, examined the bed on the morning after the murder and found it undisturbed.” He turned to Angus: “Am I right?”
“Yes, sir. I was with Mr. McLeod, sir, when he examined the ground. It looked exactly as it looks at this moment.”
“Very well.”
Barley applied the snout of the bellows to the surface of the earth and began to blow gently. As he blew dust was driven away in semi-circles, leaving a more or less even surface. He continued to work for a few minutes and then stood erect. There was a puzzled look on his face.
“Well?” Dr. Hailey asked.
“You see, there’s nothing. Frankly I don’t understand it.” He glanced up at Miss Gregor’s window. An exclamation broke from his lips. He pointed to an iron spike sticking out from the wall just above the window.
“What’s that?” he demanded of Angus.
“It was put there long ago to carry a sun-blind, sir. But Miss Gregor did not like the blind.”
“You could reach it from the window-sill?”
“Yes, sir.”
The detective measured the distance from the spike to the ground with his eye. Then he stepped on to the border and applied his bellows to a spot immediately under the spike. A few vigorous strokes of the bellows revealed a footprint under the loose dust of the surface. A moment later a second footprint, on which the marks of heavy nails were clearly visible, was disclosed. Barley stood back and pointed to these signs.
“You see. Footprints, one of which is studded with nails.”
A gleam of triumph shone in his eyes. He turned to Dr. Hailey.
“You saw McDonald’s shoe,” he exclaimed. “Do you doubt that this print was made by it?”
“No. There’s no doubt that it was made by it.”
“Notice: right under the spike. He had a piece of rope apparently. He must have dropped only a short distance because these footprints are not deep. I feel sure that, as soon as he landed, he climbed into the window of the smoke-room; there are no other footprints. No doubt she was waiting for him there, ready to throw a few handfuls of loose earth on his tracks.”
Dr. Hailey nodded: “It must be so, of course,” he said. “I congratulate you.”
They returned to the house and mounted to Miss Gregor’s room. Barley climbed out on the window-sill and satisfied himself that the spike was within reach.
“We may as well complete our job,” he declared, “by inspecting the spike from above. The iron is rusty and it’s long odds that the rope he used has left some trace of its presence.”
This expectation was confirmed. Looking down from the window of the little pantry, which served the nursery on the top floor, Dr. Hailey had an excellent view of the upper surface of the iron spike. The thick rust on the surface had been broken away at one place and the metal was visible.
“Are you satisfied, now, that a rope was used?” Barley asked.
“Yes.”
“That must be the explanation, because, as you see, nobody can possibly have reached the spike from above, the drop is too great. Nobody reached it from below because there are no signs of the use of a ladder. It was reached therefore from the window-sill, which as I’ve just proved, is easy.”
Barley leant against the dresser, which occupied one side of the room, and on which were standing jugs of milk and dishes of various kinds.
“What I think happened was this,” he said. “When Mrs. Eoghan realized that her aunt was determined on her ruin and the ruin of her lover, her first idea, as you know, was to run away. But neither she nor McDonald has any money. He saw the folly of that course. Did he not exert himself to get the girl home again when she escaped to his house? From what you told me about that incident, I think it’s a just inference that he had become thoroughly alarmed by her violence and by the reactions to her violence in this house. He was specially afraid of Miss Gregor, whose character he knew only too well. But to get rid of a headstrong woman with whom one has become compromised is no easy task. Facilis est decensus Averni, sed revocare gradum, hic labor, hoc opus est!”
The quotation broke gorgeously from his lips. He swept the air with his hands, making the plates behind him rattle.
“Mrs. Eoghan could summon him whenever she wished, because of her child. She compelled him in addition—and perhaps he needed no compulsion—to visit her unofficially in his boat. He learned that matters were going from bad to worse here. Then came discovery, and the immediate prospect, almost the certainty, of ruin. Duchlan might perhaps be induced to forgive and forget, but not so Miss Gregor.
“And so the murder was planned. The exact nature of these plans can only be guessed at; I admit that gaps still exist in our knowledge. But the outline is clear. After the doctor’s arrival on the night of the murder, Mrs. Eoghan went to her aunt’s room and told her that she was much alarmed about her child. That prepared the way for Dr. McDonald’s coming to the bedroom. When he came, Mrs. Eoghan went downstairs to the study. The doctor must then have struck his blow. As you know it was a blow of terrific violence which, nevertheless, was not mortal. But the old woman’s heart failed. He locked the bedroom door on the inside, assured himself that she was dead, fixed his rope in a single loop over the spike and let himself down from the window, which he had closed behind him. The rope was not long enough to bring him to the ground. There was a short drop. As we saw, it only remained to climb into the smoke-room, coil up the rope, get rid of the weapon, and cover the footprints. McDonald then left the house by the front door. He knew that he would be sent for as soon as the crime was discovered. Things fell out so well, as you know, that he was actually afforded the opportunity next morning of bolting the window without being observed, thus placing a most formidable barrier between his pursuers and himself.”
Barley spoke with a pride which, in the circumstances, was pardonable. His case was complete; there remained only the work of rounding it off.
“I hope,” he added, “that you will criticize me without mercy.”
Dr. Hailey shook his head.
“The only criticism I could make has been made already by yourself. The facts and the people seem to be ill-mated. On the other hand, so far as I can see, the people, in this case, must yield to the facts. There is no other possible explanation.”
“No.” Barley made the plates rattle again. “The murder of Dundas is incredible if Dr. McDonald did not commit it. Think of it; you were on guard, so to speak, at the door of his room; that young fisherman was watching the window. You’re ready to swear that nobody entered by the door; he’s ready to swear that nobody entered by the window. And we know that Eoghan Gregor’s story is an invention.”
“We presume that, at any rate.”
“No, sir.” Barley smiled suddenly. “You noticed perhaps that I left you on the way up to this room. I looked into Dundas’s bedroom. The mattres
s in his bed is a hair mattress, a hard hair mattress at that. I presume that he must have asked that the feathers might be taken away. Eoghan was unaware of the change.”
There was a knock at the door of the pantry. Christina entered and asked Dr. Hailey to come into the nursery for a moment.
“It’s Hamish,” she explained. “He looks queer again.”
She led the way, but turned back to close the door of the nursery behind the doctor. He walked to the cot where the child was lying asleep and bent over him.
“What happened?” he asked.
“His face was twitching.”
“I don’t think there is anything to be alarmed at.”
He listened to the child’s breathing for a few minutes and then turned to the old woman who stood behind him plucking nervously at her apron.
“What he wants is sleep, rest.”
Christina’s eyes were troubled. She shook her head in a fashion that expressed melancholy and resentment.
“Where is the poor lamb to find rest in this house?” she asked in her rich tones. Suddenly she took a step forward; she raised a skinny hand.
“Will you tell me: is it true that the detective from Edinburgh will be suspecting Hamish’s mother?”
“I…I don’t think I can discuss that.”
The old woman uttered a cry.
“Oh, it will be true then, if you will not tell me.” She put her hand on his sleeve and raised her black eyes to his face. “She is not guilty,” she declared in tones of deep conviction. “I know that she is not guilty.”
Dr. Hailey frowned.
“How can you know that?”
“Mrs. Gregor would not hurt a fly.”
He shook his head. He had no wish to argue the case with this old woman and yet there was something in the passionate earnestness of her voice which challenged him.
“I hope you’re right.”
She continued to clutch his arm.
“I know what the man from Glasgow will be saying,” she declared. “That it was Dr. McDonald who killed Miss Gregor, him being helped by Hamish’s mother.” She released him and stood back from him. “Will you please sit down? There is something that I must tell you.”
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