The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Modern English
General
The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Modern English
Detective and mystery stories, English; Fiction; Short stories
Day had already come, when a sharp "Hist!" sounded from the thicket. I
started from the ground; but the voice of Northmour was heard adding, in
the most tranquil tones: "Come here, Cassilis, and alone; I want to show
you something."
I consulted Clara with my eyes, and, receiving her tacit permission, left
her alone, and clambered out of the den. At some distance off I saw
Northmour leaning against an elder; and, as soon as he perceived me, he
began walking seaward. I had almost overtaken him as he reached the
outskirts of the wood.
"Look," said he, pausing.
A couple of steps more brought me out of the foliage. The light of the
morning lay cold and clear over that well-known scene. The pavilion was
but a blackened wreck; the roof had fallen in, one of the gables had
fallen out; and, far and near, the face of the links was cicatrized with
little patches of burned furze. Thick smoke still went straight upward in
the windless air of the morning, and a great pile of ardent cinders filled
the bare walls of the house, like coals in an open grate. Close by the
islet a schooner yacht lay to, and a well-manned boat was pulling
vigorously for the shore.
"The 'Red Earl'!" I cried. "The 'Red Earl' twelve hours too late!"
"Feel in your pocket, Frank. Are you armed?" asked Northmour.
I obeyed him, and I think I must have become deadly pale. My revolver had
been taken from me.
"You see, I have you in my power," he continued. "I disarmed you last
night while you were nursing Clara; but this morning--here--take your
pistol. No thanks!" he cried, holding up his hand. "I do not like them;
that is the only way you can annoy me now."
He began to walk forward across the links to meet the boat, and I followed
a step or two behind. In front of the pavilion I paused to see where Mr.
Huddlestone had fallen; but there was no sign of him, nor so much as a
trace of blood.
"Graden Floe," said Northmour.
He continued to advance till we had come to the head of the beach.
"No farther, please," said he. "Would you like to take her to Graden
House?"
"Thank you," replied I; "I shall try to get her to the minister at Graden
Wester."
The prow of the boat here grated on the beach, and a sailor jumped ashore
with a line in his hand.
"Wait a minute, lads!" cried Northmour; and then lower and to my private
ear, "You had better say nothing of all this to her," he added.
"On the contrary!" I broke out, "she shall know everything that I can
tell."
"You do not understand," he returned, with an air of great dignity. "It
will be nothing to her; she expects it of me. Good-by!" he added, with a
nod.
I offered him my hand.
"Excuse me," said he. "It's small, I know; but I can't push things quite
so far as that. I don't wish any sentimental business, to sit by your
hearth a white-haired wanderer, and all that. Quite the contrary: I hope
to God I shall never again clap eyes on either one of you."
"Well, God bless you, Northmour!" I said heartily.
"Oh, yes," he returned.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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