SIR EDWARD LEITHEN'S MYSTERIES - Complete Series. Buchan JohnЧитать онлайн книгу.
of foolscap on which had been roughly drawn a map of the estate.
“Now, listen to me. We must assume this fellow Macnab to be in possession of his senses, and to have more or less reconnoitred the ground—though I don’t know how the devil he can have managed it, for the gillies have kept their eyes open, and nobody’s been seen near the place. Well, here are the three beats. Unless young Bandicott is right and the man’s a lunatic, he won’t try the Home beat, for the simple reason that a shot there would be heard by twenty people and he could not move a beast twenty yards without being caught. There remains Carnmore and Carnbeg. Macpherson was clear that he would try Carnmore, as being farthest away from the house. But I, with my old campaigning experience”—here Colonel Raden looked remarkably cunning—“pointed out at once that such reasoning was rudimentary. I said ‘He’ll bluff us, and just because he thinks that we think he’ll try Carnmore, he’ll try Carnbeg. Therefore, since we can only afford to watch one beat thoroughly, we’ll watch Carnbeg.’ What do you think of that, my dears?”
“I think you’re very clever, papa,” said Agatha. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“And you, Nettie?”
Janet was knitting her brows and looking thoughtful.
“I’m…not…so…sure. You see we must assume that John Macnab is very ingenious. He probably made his fortune in the colonies by every kind of dodge. He’s sure to be very clever.”
“Well put, my dear,” said her father, “it’s just that cleverness that I propose to match.”
“But do you think you have quite matched it? You have tried to imagine what John Macnab would be thinking, and he will have done just the same by you. Why shouldn’t he have guessed the solution you have reached and be deciding to go one better?”
“How do you mean, Nettie?” asked her puzzled parent. He was inclined to be annoyed, but experience had taught him that his younger daughter’s wits were not to be lightly disregarded.
Nettie took the estate map from his hand and found a stump of pencil in the pocket of her jumper.
“Please look at this, papa. Here is A and B. B offers a better chance, so Macpherson says John Macnab will take B. You say, acutely, that John Macnab is not a fool, and will try to bluff us by taking A. I say that John Macnab will have anticipated your acumen.”
“Yes, yes,” said her father impatiently. “And then?”
“And then will take B after all.”
The Colonel stood rapt in unpleasant meditation for the space of five seconds…
“God bless my soul!” he cried. “I see what you mean. Confound it, of course he’ll go for Carnmore. Lord, this is a puzzle. I must see Macpherson at once. Are you sure you’re right, Nettie?”
“I’m not in the least sure. We’ve only a choice of uncertainties, and must gamble. But, as far as I see, if we must plump for one we should plump for Carnmore.”
Colonel Raden departed from his study, after summoning Macpherson to that shrine of the higher thought, and Janet Raden, after one or two brief domestic interviews, collected her two terriers and set out for her morning walk. The morning was as fresh and bright as April, the rain in the night had set every burn singing, and the thickets and lawns were still damp where the sun had not penetrated. Her morning walk was wont to be a scamper, a thing of hops, skips, and jumps, rather than a sedate progress; but on this occasion, though two dogs and the whole earth invited to hilarity, she walked slowly and thoughtfully. The mossy broken tops of Carnbeg showed above a wood of young firs, and to the right rose the high blue peaks of the Carnmore ground. On which of these on the morrow would John Macnab begin his depredations? He had two days for his exploit; probably he would make his effort on the second day, and devote the first to confusing the minds of the defence. That meant that the problem would have to be thought out anew each day, for the alert intelligence of John Macnab—she now pictured him as a sort of Sherlock Holmes in knickerbockers—would not stand still. The prospect exhilarated, but it also alarmed her; the desire to win a new hunter was now a fixed resolution; but she wished she had a colleague. Agatha was no use, and her father, while admirable in tactics, was weak in strategy; she longed more than ever for the help of that frail vessel, Sir Archie.
Her road led her by a brawling torrent through the famous Glenraden beechwood to the spongy meadows of the haugh, beyond which could be seen the shining tides of the Raden sweeping to the high-backed bridge across which ran the road to Carnmore. The haugh was all bog-myrtle and heather and bracken, sprinkled with great boulders which the river during the ages had brought down from the hills. Half a mile up it stood the odd tumulus called the Piper’s Ring, crowned with an ancient gnarled fir, where reposed, according to the elder Bandicott, the dust of that dark progenitor, Harald Blacktooth. If Mr Bandicott proposed to excavate there he had his work cut out; the place was encumbered with giant stones since a thousand floods had washed its sides since it first received the dead Viking. Great birch woods from both sides of the valley descended to the stream, thereby making the excellence of the Home beat, for the woodland stag is a heavier beast than his brother of the high tops.
Close to the road, in a small hollow where one of the rivulets from the woods cut its way through the haugh, she came on an ancient cart resting on its shafts, an ancient horse grazing on a patch of turf among the peat, and a small boy diligently whittling his way through a pile of heather roots. The urchin sprang to his feet and saluted like a soldier.
“Please, lady,” he explained in a high falsetto whine, “I’ve gotten permission from Mr Macpherson to make heather besoms on this muir. He’s been awfu’ kind to me, lady.”
“You’re the boy who sells fish? I’ve seen you on the road.”
“Aye, lady, I’m Fish Benjie. I sell my fish in the mornin’s and evenin’s, and I’ve a’ the day for other jobs. I’ve aye wanted to come here, for it’s the grandest heather i’ the country-side; and Mr Macpherson, he kens I’ll do nae harm, and I’ve promised no to kindle a fire.”
The child with the beggar’s voice looked at her with such sage and solemn eyes that Janet, who had a hopeless weakness for small boys, sat down on a sun-warmed hillock and stared at him, while he turned resolutely to business.
“If you’re hungry, Benjie,” she said, “and they won’t let you make a fire, you can come up to the Castle and get tea from Mrs Fraser. Tell her I sent you.”
“Thank you, lady, but if you please, I was gaun to my tea at Mrs Macpherson’s. She’s fell fond o’ my haddies, and she tell’t me to tak a look in when I stoppit work. I’m ettlin’ to be here for a guid while.”
“Will you come every day?”
“Aye, every day about eight o’clock, and bide till maybe five in the afternoon when I go down to the cobles at Inverlarrig.”
“Now, look here, Benjie. When you’re sitting quietly working here I want you to keep your eyes open, and if you see any strange man, tell Mr Macpherson. By strange man I mean somebody who doesn’t belong to the place. We’re rather troubled by poachers just now.”
Benjie raised a ruminant eye from his besom.
“Aye, lady. I seen a queer man already this mornin’. He cam up the road and syne started off over the bog. He was sweatin’ sore, and there was twa men from Strathlarrig wi’ him carryin’ picks and shovels…Losh, there he is comin’ back.”
Following Benjie’s pointing finger Janet saw, approaching her from the direction of the Piper’s Ring, a solitary figure which laboured heavily among the peat-bogs. Presently it was revealed as an elderly man wearing a broad grey wide-awake and a suit of flannel knickerbockers. His enormous horn spectacles clearly did not help his eyesight, for he had almost fallen over the shafts of the fish-cart before he perceived Janet Raden. He removed his hat, bowed with an antique courtesy, and asked permission to recover his breath.
“I was on my way to see your father,” he said at length. “This