Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 08
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 08
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
"Waiter," said he, "why this disturbance? Cannot your farmers dine here
without kicking up a riot?"
"Oh, sir, it's the murder!"
"What murder?"
"The General, sir, who lives at Merton, sir, found stabbed in his own
sitting-room, sir!"
"Stabbed, do you say? It cannot be!"
"Quite true, sir, as I'm a waiter! And they have got the murderer in
custody."
"Murderer! impossible! What mean you?" exclaimed the traveller, hastily.
"Why, sir, the fellow that killed Sir Thomas is taken redhand, I think
they call it."
"Who is he?"
"Just Tom Vallance, sir--an idle fellow, to be sure, but the last person
that I would have thought would do such a thing."
"What! the son of the old housekeeper?"
"Yes. Do you know him, sir?"
"Not I; but I've heard of his mother. What inducement could he have to
commit so dreadful a crime?"
"Revenge, sir! The General, some two or three weeks since, seized his
gun, and, poor gentleman, abused Tom fearfully, for he was in one of his
terrifics; and Tom told him the next time he was on his grounds he would
do for him--at least so it is said."
"Dreadful! And what was this Tom Vallance, as I think you call him?"
"Nothing, sir. His mother is an industrious woman; and the lad was not
that bad fellow neither--but dreadfully idle. He had a good education;
but his father dying two years since, Tom left school; and his mother,
in place of sending him back, kept him at home. She was so fond of him
that she let him do whatever he liked."
"How can she afford to maintain him?"
"She is very industrious, sir; and, as she was daft fond of him, every
penny she could scrape together went into his pockets."
"Where is the accused?"
"Tom, sir, do you mean? Why, before the sheriff, making his
declaration."
"Who succeeds the late baronet?"
"His nephew--a very nice chap. He was often at Merton when a lad; but he
has not been here for many years. He'll be better liked than his uncle,
though the old fellow was not so bad neither. But I must go, sir, for I
hear the bell ringing in the travellers'-room."
So saying, he whipped his napkin under his arm, and withdrew with
praiseworthy celerity.
The unknown traveller paced slowly up and down the room, apparently very
much perplexed in his mind. He muttered--
"Strange!--very strange!--caught in the room--a previous threat--all
concurs."
Shortly afterwards he again rang the bell, ordered in and paid his bill;
and, taking a post-chaise to the next town, waited there only until the
mail from Edinburgh to London stopped to change horses, and, having
procured a seat, arrived in due time in the metropolis.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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