The Ashiel mystery : $b a detective storyBryce, Marion
General
The Ashiel mystery : $b a detective story
Bryce, Marion
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
The place was evidently a tool-house, used by the gardeners for storing
their implements. Rakes, spades, forks and hoes leant against the walls;
a shelf held a quantity of odds and ends: trowels, seedsmen's catalogues,
a pot of paint, a bundle of wooden labels, the rose of a watering-can,
and a dozen other small objects. On the floor were piled boxes and empty
cases; flowerpots stood beside a bag which bore the name of a patent
fertilizer; a small hand mowing-machine blocked the entrance; and a
plank, too long to lie flat on the ground, had been propped slantwise
between the floor and the roof. Bunches of bass hung from nails above the
shelf; and on the wall opposite, a coloured advertisement, representing
phloxes of so fierce an intensity of hue that nature was put to the
blush, had been tacked by some admirer of Art.
Five minutes later, when Gimblet emerged once more into the open, he
carried in one hand a garden rake. With this he proceeded to thread his
way through the shrubbery, keeping close to the line of the holly hedge.
When he thought he had gone about fifty yards, he lay down and peered
under the leaves. The hedge was rather thinner at the bottom; and, by
carefully pushing aside a little of the glossy, prickly foliage, he was
able to make out that the end of the rose-bed he had lately examined was
separated from him now only by the dividing barrier of the hedge. With
the rake still in his hand, he drew himself slowly forward, gingerly
introducing his head and arms under the holly, till he was prevented
from going farther by the close growing trunks of the trees that formed
the hedge.
It took some manoeuvring to insert the head of the rake through the
fence, but he did it at last, and found a gap which his arms would pass
also. Between, and under the lowest fringe of leaves on the farther side,
he could see the track of his own footsteps, where he had walked on the
bed. They were all, by an effort, within reach of his rake, and he
stealthily effaced them. He could not see whether the garden was still
untenanted, or whether the peculiar phenomenon of a rake moving without
human assistance was being observed by anyone from the castle. He
fervently hoped that it was not: he did not wish the attention of anyone
else to be called to the puzzling marks that had mystified him; and, as
the only window which looked into the garden was that of the library, he
thought there was a good chance that there was no one in sight.
Cautiously and almost silently he worked his way back, and replaced the
rake in the tool-house where he had found it. Then he took the small
oil-can used for oiling the mowing-machine, and concealing it under his
coat made towards the house. The little garden was still lonely and
deserted as he walked quickly over the lawn and in at the passage door.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account