The Lost Lady of LoneSouthworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
General
The Lost Lady of Lone
Southworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
Fiction
He was a man of middle age and medium size, with a fair complexion, sandy
hair and open, honest countenance. He was clothed in a suit of black and
white-checked cloth.
He was duly sworn and examined. He gave his name as Donald McNeil, his
age forty years, and his home in the hamlet of Lone.
"You are a ticket-agent at the Railway Station at Lone?" inquired the
coroner's clerk.
"I am, sir."
"You were on duty at that station last night, between twelve midnight and
one, morning?"
"I was, sir."
"Does the train for London stop at Lone at that hour?"
"The up-train stops at Lone, at a quarter past twal, sir, and seldom
varies for as muckle as twa minutes."
"It stopped last night as usual, at a quarter past twelve?"
"It did, sir, av coorse."
"Did any passengers get on that train from Lone?"
"_One_ passenger did, sir; whilk I remarked it more particularly,
because the passenger was a young lass, travelling her lane, and it is
unco seldom a woman tak's that train at that hour, and never her lane."
"Ah! there was but one passenger, then, that took the midnight train from
Lone for London?"
"But one, sir."
"And she was a woman?"
"A young lass, sir."
"Did she take a through ticket?"
"Ah, sir, to London."
"What class?"
"Second-class."
"Had she luggage?"
"An unco heavy black leather bag, sir, that was a'."
"How do you know the bag was heavy?"
"By the way she lugged it, sir. The porter offered to relieve her o' it,
but she wad na trust it out o' her hand ae minute."
"Ah! Was it a large bag?"
"Na, sir, no that large, but unco heavy, as it might be filled fu' o'
minerals, the like of whilk the college lads whiles collect in the
mountains. Na, it was no' large, but unco heavy, and she wad na let it
out o' her hand ae minute."
"Just so. Would you know that young woman again if you were to see her?"
"Na, I could na see her face. She wore a thick, dark vail, doublit over
and over her face, the whilk was the moir to be noticed because the nicht
was sae warm."
"You say her face was concealed. How, then, did you know her to be a
young woman?"
"Ou, by her form and her gait just, and by her speech."
"She talked with you, then?"
"Na, she spak just three words when she handed in the money for her
ticket: 'One--second-class--through.'"
"Would you recognize her voice again if you should hear it?"
"Ay, that I should."
"How was this young woman dressed?"
"She wore a lang, black tweed cloak wi' a hood till it, and a dark vail."
A few more questions were asked, but as nothing new was elicited the
witness was permitted to retire.
Other witnesses were examined, and old witnesses were recalled hour after
hour and day after day, without effect. No new light was thrown upon the
mystery.
No one, except Cuddie McGill, the saddler's apprentice, could be found
who had seen the suspicious man and woman lurking under the balcony.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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