The Ashiel mystery : $b a detective storyBryce, Marion
General
The Ashiel mystery : $b a detective story
Bryce, Marion
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
They had reached a place where a wide horseshoe of beach ran down to the
loch. For more than a week there had been no rain to speak of. The season
as a whole had been dry, and the water was very low; tufts of grass
dotted the shore; brambles and young alders were springing up bravely,
determined to make the most of their time. At the back stretched a
meadow, part of which had been cut for hay; the rest of it was so full of
weeds and wild flowers, ragweed, burdock and the red stalks of sorrel,
that it had been left untouched, and filled the foreground with colour.
The grass had gone to seed and turned a rich reddish purple; beneath it
grew wild geraniums whose leaves were already scarlet. Bluebells and
scabious made a haze of mauve, and everywhere the warm, sandy stalks of
the dried grasses shone yellow through the patch.
They sat down at the edge of the beach and leant back against the
overhanging turf. Opposite to them the little town of Crianan clung to
the steep rocks below Ben Ghusy, the houses looking as if they stood
piled one on top of another in a rough pyramid; and the whole surmounted
by the high walls and tower of the Roman Catholic monastery which
dominated the scene, and always seemed to Juliet to wear a look of stern
defiance, as if it were offering a challenge to that other fortress that
frowned back at it. She could imagine the monks in the old days, standing
on its parapet and daring the Lords of Inverashiel to do their worst. Far
away down the loch lay the hills, scarce more deeply grey than the water;
beyond them more distant tops melted into the sky. The grey ripples
lapped gently on jagged shingle, and a persistent housefly buzzed loudly
round their heads; at that hour there were as yet few midges, and it was
very peaceful, very solitary, very desolate.
"I don't know," said Juliet, going on with her story where she had left
off, "which was more angry, Lord Ashiel or Sir David. After the first few
minutes, in which they both said things I am sure they regretted
afterwards, neither of them would speak to the other, and it was a very
uncomfortable evening for every one. The next day was better. Colonel
Spicer and Sir George left by the morning train, both going on to shoot
in other parts of Scotland. Mrs. Clutsam went away too; she had some one
coming to stay with her at her own house near by. Both the young men went
stalking on different parts of the forest, and Lord Ashiel and I, with
the two other girls, spent the morning on the loch trolling for salmon;
but we didn't get a rise.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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