Murder of a Lady

by Anthony Wynne

  “Did you ask your father about your mother?”

  “No. I was afraid of my father.” Eoghan took out his pipe and tried to fill it. “As a matter of fact I was a solitary sort of kid. I was happiest when they left me to myself in the nursery. I used to pretend that my mother came and played with me there and that we were both frightened of Aunt Mary and father. I don’t know where I got the idea but I always thought of my mother and myself as the Babes in the Wood.”

  “Your aunt was the oppressor?”

  He nodded. “My head was full of fairy tales. My mother was Red Riding Hood and Goldilocks and Cinderella in turn.”

  “And your aunt the wolf and the bear and the ugly sister?”

  “Perhaps, yes. It was vague, you know.”

  “Your mother was Irish?”

  “Yes.”

  Dr. Hailey allowed his eyeglass to drop.

  “Do you possess a picture of your mother?” he asked.

  “Only a small photograph.” He flushed as he said this.

  The doctor held out his hand.

  “May I look at it?”

  There was a moment of silence. Eoghan had stiffened in his chair, resentful apparently of the fact that it should have been guessed that he carried his mother’s photograph about with him. But his resentment was soon lost in confusion. He took a small leather case from his pocket and handed it to the doctor.

  “My mother gave the photograph to Christina,” he said in hurried tones which revealed how deep was his hurt that his only relic of his mother had come to him thus, at second hand.

  There were two photographs in the case. One faded, inscribed to “my dear Christina”, the other new, of Oonagh. Oonagh bore a likeness to Eoghan’s mother that was unmistakable. Dr. Hailey handed the case back without comment.

  “You’re a poor man?” he asked gently.

  “I am.”

  “Was that why you left your wife and child here, in this house?”

  The question seemed to cause the young man acute distress.

  “I don’t think that was the only reason,” he said in hesitating tones.

  “May I ask your other reason?”

  “I didn’t realize that Oonagh would be so unhappy here. I felt that I would like her to be here, where I had lived so long.”

  “I see.” Dr. Hailey nodded several times. “Just as you would have liked your mother to be here?”

  “Perhaps that is part of the reason, although I didn’t think of it at the time. I wanted Hamish to have Christina as his nurse and I knew she would never consent to leave my aunt even if my aunt consented to part with her.”

  “Were you gambling to make money?”

  The question came abruptly. But it produced very little reaction.

  “Yes.”

  “To have enough to set up a home of your own?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you realized that your wife’s position was hopeless in this house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your aunt knew that you meant to have a home of your own?”

  “She may have known.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I had told her that I thought a married woman ought to have her own home.” Eoghan hesitated again. “I suppose I knew that she was opposed to the idea, because I didn’t develop it.”

  “You were afraid of her?”

  “I think everybody was a little afraid of her. My aunt had a way of making people who disagreed with her feel guilty. I can’t tell you how she did it, but I often noticed the effect. I think her secret lay in her absolute conviction that whatever she thought or felt must be right. She was a deeply religious woman in rather a superstitious way. Perhaps it’s necessary to be a Highlander to understand exactly what that means.”

  The doctor nodded again.

  “Without being a Highlander,” he said, “I had guessed that.”

  “She was kind in making me an allowance. I couldn’t have married Oonagh when I did but for that allowance.”

  “It was paid to you?”

  “Oh, no. It was paid chiefly in kind. My aunt dressed Oonagh and Hamish. She contributed to their board because my father is very poor. In addition she was constantly giving little presents.”

  Eoghan broke off. Dr. Hailey gazed at him in silence for a few minutes.

  “I want you to tell me quite frankly whether or not your wife’s responses to those gifts seemed to you ungrateful,” he said.

  “Sometimes they did seem to me a little ungrateful.”

  “You told your wife that?”

  “I tried to explain to her that my aunt’s up-bringing and her up-bringing had been entirely different. Oonagh’s people live a care-free sort of life. They have no money but they hunt and go about a great deal. Oonagh never knew what it was to be restrained till she was married. And she never knew what it was to lack money because she possessed everything she wanted. Coming here was like coming to prison. I tried to make her realize that Aunt Mary couldn’t be expected to understand this and that, consequently, it wasn’t fair to judge her as one might have judged a younger woman.”

  He passed his hand across his brow. He, too, looked haggard and weary.

  “Your wife wasn’t persuaded?”

  “No, she wasn’t. She said she would prefer one room of her own anywhere. I had made up my mind to take her away from here no matter what it cost.”

  “You mean, no matter whether or not your aunt refused to help you if you did?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately I made a bad break in trying to get money quickly. I had to fall back on Aunt Mary.”

  Dr. Hailey frowned.

  “Surely that was an extraordinarily foolish thing to do?” he said.

  “Yes, it was. But I was getting desperate.” Eoghan glanced at McDonald and then braced himself to tell the truth. “The truth is I felt I was losing Oonagh. Aunt Mary hinted that I had lost her. When she wrote me about Oonagh’s flight from this house, I nearly went mad. If I could have got leave I would have rushed back here. Then I thought of blowing out my brains, so that she could be free. That moment of madness passed. I told myself it was a punishment for my not having got Oonagh a home of her own. I determined to try my luck there and then, because I felt somehow that a miracle would save me. I felt that it was impossible that Oonagh could be taken away from me. I could scarcely think. I hadn’t slept for nights. All my thoughts were whirling in my brain like peas in a drum. I plunged and plunged till my friends were aghast. And I lost…”

  He broke off. A bitter smile curved his lips.

  “Lost. So that I hadn’t a bean left in the world. I went back to my quarters and took my pistol out. There was nothing for it now but a quick ending. I think I would have shot myself if my best friend hadn’t found me. He sat with me all night, listening while I talked. And I talked till dawn. Talked and talked. I told him everything, about my mother and my aunt and Oonagh. About you, McDonald. At the end he swore that Oonagh was in love with me. ‘Go back to her,’ he begged, ‘and raise the money you owe somehow, anyhow. It’ll come right in the end.’

  “I was calmer and I saw what a fool and coward I had been. I asked for leave and got it.”

  “You meant to borrow from your aunt?”

  “Yes. I had a tale ready that my friend concocted for me—about losses on shares. Aunt Mary had no objection to gambling on the Stock Exchange.”

  “That was business?”

  “That was business.”

  Dr. Hailey shook his head. His eyes expressed the wonder which so many human prejudices and misunderstandings caused him.

  “You had written to your wife?” he asked.

  “Yes. I had to appeal to her to keep on good terms with my aunt. I know now that it was that letter which sent her to Aunt Mary’s room. When I arrived here I went straig
ht to my aunt’s room. My madness had returned on the long, lonely journey across the Firth. I was terribly worked up and felt I must get an answer immediately. Her locked door and her silence convinced me that she had made up her mind to have nothing more to do with me. Naturally, murder never entered my head. I rushed off to Oonagh’s bedroom.”

  He paused again. He shook his head sadly.

  “I don’t want to excuse myself in any way. But you had better know the facts. I suppose I was half-crazy with anxiety and worry and loss of sleep. I accused Oonagh of ruining me—not perhaps in those words, but she knew very well what I meant. I said I would have to leave the Army and go abroad. There was no hope now because Aunt Mary was against me. ‘There was only her money,’ I cried, ‘between me and ruin. That’s gone. I must go too.’ I saw a terrible fear in Oonagh’s eyes. She jumped up and tried to put her arms round my neck. She told me that you, McDonald, had offered to lend me money…”

  He drew a sharp breath.

  “That was like a wound in my heart. ‘Do you know,’ I said very quietly, ‘that I would rather rob my aunt, cheat her, murder her if need be, than touch a penny of that swine’s money.’ Suddenly everything seemed to go red in front of my eyes. I sprang at Oonagh. I seized her by the throat. ‘Tell me,’ I shouted, ‘exactly what has happened between you and that man.’ I believe that, for one awful moment, I was prepared to strangle her.”

  He covered his face with his hands. The room grew so still that the voice of the burn reached them, gurgling in its immemorial delight. Dr. Hailey saw that McDonald’s face had grown stiff, like a mask.

  “Yes?” the doctor asked.

  “Oonagh swore that nothing had happened. She swore that her love for me had not wavered. I had the feeling that she was pleading for her life. I wasn’t convinced. But the first gust of my rage had passed. I began to tremble. The tension of my nerves gave way suddenly and I broke down. She told me that she didn’t care whether we were rich or poor. She said she was able to work and ready to work and that between us we would make enough to keep Hamish. I don’t know why, but when she spoke in that way my troubles seemed to get less. I began to believe her.”

  His voice faded away. Dr. Hailey waited for a few moments and then said:

  “It was your statement that you would rob or kill your aunt sooner than borrow from McDonald which made your wife fear that you had murdered her?”

  “I suppose so. That, and my attack on herself. I believe I was mad for a few minutes.”

  “She was ready to die for you?”

  Dr. Hailey’s voice was low but his tones thrilled with admiration. Eoghan raised his head sharply.

  “God knows,” he cried, “I never was worthy of Oonagh. I never will be worthy of her.”

  Eoghan drove McDonald home. When they left the house Dr. Hailey went out to the place where Barley had been killed. The fear, which had oppressed him indoors, lost its power as soon as he crossed the threshold. He stood listening to the voices of night, softly-moving winds, the gurgle of the burn and, louder than these, the fall of waves on the shingle. He walked to the spot where Barley had fallen. His lamp revealed nothing. The tide was ebbing but remained high, so that the mouth of the burn resembled a tiny harbour. He descended the steep slope to the water’s edge, and stood there for a few minutes. Then he climbed the bank again. It was obvious that, at the moment of his death, Barley had been concerned about the murder of Dundas, whose bedroom was immediately above the spot where he had been standing. The doctor wondered what doubt or question had sent the poor man on this fatal errand. If Barley really believed that McDonald had killed Dundas, why should he trouble about the ground under Dundas’s window?

  He returned to the house and went upstairs to his bedroom. The more he thought about it, the stranger this last act of Barley’s seemed. The only possible explanation seemed to be that the detective had begun to doubt his theory that McDonald had killed Dundas; but if so, why had he arrested McDonald? Barley was an honest man and as such would certainly have delayed making an arrest so long as any substantial doubt remained in his mind. But he was a practical man who would not have gone out of his way except for a reason. It seemed certain therefore that a reason why he should examine the ground under Dundas’s window must have occurred to his mind or been forced upon his mind after he had effected the arrest of McDonald. The doctor frowned. How could any such reason have arisen at the time? He mastered his fears and walked along the corridor to Dundas’s bedroom. Barley’s body lay on the bed, under a sheet. He removed this and searched the dead man’s pockets. He found nothing except a diary, in which notes of the progress of the case had been made from time to time. The last of these notes consisted of a summing-up of the evidence against McDonald and Mrs. Gregor. He replaced the book and went downstairs. Eoghan had just returned and was in the smoke-room pouring out a whisky-and-soda. The young man looked relieved when he saw the doctor.

  “I heard you coming downstairs,” he exclaimed, in tones which betrayed the anxiety that sound had occasioned him. He added: “When I was outside I felt all right. This house seems to have become different.”

  He offered Dr. Hailey a drink and poured it out.

  “People can say what they like about whisky,” he declared, “but there are times when it’s the most sobering drink in the world.”

  He lit his pipe and carried his glass to an arm-chair. He sat down and put the glass on the floor beside him. The doctor told him about his difficulty in accounting for Barley’s last excursion.

  “Can you think of any reason,” he asked, “why he should suddenly have developed a fresh interest in Dundas’s murder?”

  “No.”

  “You saw him arrest McDonald. Did it strike you that he had any doubts about the justice of what he was doing?”

  “What, after the lecture he had given us? ’Pon my soul, doctor, he made out a strong case, a terrible case.”

  “Exactly. And then, apparently, hurried off to test its merits. It seems absurd on the face of it.”

  “Possibly he had some other reason for going…”

  “Yes, but what other reason? Barley was a man who knew how to economize his efforts. I feel absolutely certain that it was no trivial cause that sent him along that steep bank at that moment.”

  Eoghan shook his head. Among so many mysteries, this one, he seemed to think, was too small to deserve notice.

  “I’m sorry for Barley,” he declared, “but the big fact about his death, so far as I’m concerned, is its effect on Oonagh. When I heard that last summing-up I thought…” His voice broke; he gulped the remains of his whisky. “They’d have been convicted,” he concluded in hurried tones.

  Dr. Hailey started slightly. He leaned forward.

  “So the reason which sent Barley to Dundas’s window was an essential element in their salvation?”

  “As it happened, yes.”

  “My dear sir, it did happen. How can we say that in this case cause and effect are unrelated?”

  Eoghan frowned: “You don’t suggest, do you,” he asked, “that McDonald or Oonagh supplied a reason for Barley’s going to that place?”

  “Of course not. But somebody else, who was interested in them, may have supplied that reason.”

  “Who? My father was here, so was I.”

  “The murderer perhaps.”

  “The murderer?”

  “Angus was in the hall when Barley left this room.”

  Eoghan drew a sharp breath.

  “What! My dear doctor, if I may say so, that’s the most absurd suggestion I’ve ever heard in my life. If you knew Angus you would realize just how absurd it is.”

  “Possibly.”

  “If Angus murdered Barley, he murdered Dundas and my aunt also. Can you imagine him dropping from my aunt’s window, or Dundas’s window? How did he get into my aunt’s bedroom? How did he get into Dundas’s b
edroom? How did he kill Barley, seeing that he remained in the hall?”

  The questions came sharply, like the rattle of machine-gun fire. Dr. Hailey shook his head.

  “No. I can imagine none of these things,” he confessed. “But in a case like this one is driven to ask every possible and impossible question.” He pressed his hand to his brow. “Surely no theory can be dismissed as ridiculous in respect of a series of events each of which is itself ridiculous to the point of utter impossibility.” He helped himself to a pinch of snuff. “And so I return to Angus. He is the only person who can have spoken to Barley after Barley left this room. He is consequently the only person who can have supplied a motive for that sudden, and in the circumstances, amazing visit to the bank under Dundas’s window…”

  Dr. Hailey broke off. Footsteps were approaching the door.

  Chapter XXXIII

  The Swimmer

  There was a knock at the door; Eoghan jumped up and opened it. Dr. Hailey saw Angus standing with a lighted candle in his hand which shook so that the flame danced. The man’s face had a sickly green complexion. Behind him, half-hidden among shadows, were two women in hats and coats.

  “You’ll forgive us, sir,” Angus said in a shaky voice, “but we cannot sleep in this house.”

  He came a little way into the room as he spoke and the women also advanced. The women’s faces were tear-stained and one of them, the younger, was whimpering.

  “Why not?”

  “Because, sir, we cannot.”

  “That’s no reason, Angus.”

  The old man glanced behind him suddenly as if he expected to be stabbed in the back. His mouth opened.

  “It’s down in the burn, sir,” he ejaculated wildly.

  “What?”

  “It’s down in the burn, sir.”

  “Down in the burn? What’s down in the burn?”

  Again the piper glanced behind him. He tried to speak but his voice failed.

  Eoghan drew himself up.

  “Pull yourself together man and don’t talk nonsense,” he ordered.

  Fear gave the old man courage of a sort. He faced his master.