SIR EDWARD LEITHEN'S MYSTERIES - Complete Series. Buchan John

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СКАЧАТЬ a leear,” Angus roared. “Just tak a look at the mouth of it. There’s the mark of the huke, ye gommeril. The fush was took wi’ a rod and line.”

      “You may reckon it was,” observed Junius. “I trust John Macnab to abide by the rules of the game.”

      Suddenly light seemed to break in on Angus’s soul. He bellowed for Jimsie, who was placidly making his way towards the group at the door, lighting his pipe as he went.

      “Look at that, James Mackenzie. Aye, look at it. Feast your een on it. You wass tellin’ me there wass otters in the Larrig and I said there wass not. You wass tellin’ me there wass an otter had a fush last night at the Lang Whang. There’s your otter and be damned to ye!”

      Jimsie, slow of comprehension, rubbed his eyes.

      “Where wass you findin’ the fush? Aye, its the one I seen last night. That otter must be wrang in the heid.’

      “It is not wrang in the heid. It’s you that are wrang in the heid, James Mackenzie. The otter is a ver-ra clever man, and its name will be John Macnab.” Slowly enlightenment dawned on Jimsie’s mind.

      “He wass the tramp,” he ingeminated. “He wass the tramp.”

      “And he’s still lockit up,” Angus cried joyfully. “Wait till I get my hands on him.” He was striding off for the garage when a word from Junius held him back.

      “You won’t find him there. I gave orders last night to let him go. You know, Angus, you told me he was only a tramp that had been seen walking up the river.”

      “We will catch him yet,” cried the vindictive head-keeper. “Get you on your bicycle, Jimsie, and away after him. He’ll be on the Muirtown road… There’s just the one road he can travel.”

      “No, you don’t,” said Junius. “I don’t want him here. He has beaten us fairly in a match of wits, and the business is finished.”

      “But the thing’s no possible,” Jimsie moaned. “The skeeliest fisher would not take a saumon in the Lang Whang with a flee…And I wasna away many meenutes…And the tramp was a poor shilpit body—not like a fisher or any kind of gentleman at all—at all…And he hadna a rod…The thing’s no possible.

      “Well, who else could it be?”

      “I think it was the Deevil.”

      Jimsie, cross-examined, went over the details of his evening’s experience.

      “The journalist may have been in league with him—or he may not,” Junius reflected. “Anyway, I’ll tackle Mr Crossby. I want to find out what I can about this remarkable sportsman.”

      “You will not find out anything at all, at all,” said Angus morosely. “For I tell ye, sir, Jimsie is right in one thing—Macnab is not a man—he is the Deevil.”

      “Then we needn’t be ashamed of being beat by him…Look here, you men. We’ve lost, but you’ve had an uncomfortable time these last twenty-four hours. And I’m going to give you what I promised you if we won out. I reckon the market price of salmon is not more than fifty cents a pound. Macnab has paid about thirty dollars a pound for this fish, so we’ve a fair margin on the deal.”

      Mr Acheson Bandicott received the news with composure, if not with relief. Now he need no longer hold the correspondents at arm’s length but could summon them to his presence and enlarge on Harald Blacktooth. His father’s equanimity cast whatever balm was needed upon Junius’s wounded pride, and presently he saw nothing in the affair but comedy. His thoughts turned to Glenraden. It might be well for him to announce in person that the defences of Strathlarrig had failed.

      On his way he called at the post-office where Agatha had told him that Crossby was lodging. He wanted a word with the journalist, who clearly must have been particeps criminis, and as he could offer as bribe the first full tale of Harald Blacktooth (to be unfolded before the other correspondents arrived for luncheon) he hoped to acquire a story in return. But, according to the post-mistress, Mr Crossby had gone. He had sat up most or the night writing, and, without waiting for breakfast, had paid his bill, strapped on his ruck-sack and departed on his bicycle.

      Junius found the Raden family on the lawn, and with them Archie Roylance.

      “Got up early to go over my speech for to-morrow,” the young man explained. “I’m gettin’ the dashed thing by heart—only way to avoid regrettable incidents. I started off down the hill repeatin’ my eloquence, and before I knew I was at Glenraden gates, so I thought I’d come in and pass the time of day…Jolly interestin’ dinner last night, Bandicott. I liked your old Professor…Any news of John Macnab?”

      “There certainly is. He has us beat to a frazzle. This morning there was a salmon on the doorstep presented with his compliments.”

      The effect of this announcement was instant and stupendous. The Colonel called upon his gods. “Not killed fair? It’s a stark impossibility, sir. You had the water guarded like the Bank of England.” Archie expressed like suspicions; Agatha was sad and sympathetic, Janet amused and covertly joyful.

      “I reckon it was fair enough fishing,” Junius went on. “I’ve been trying to puzzle the thing out, and this is what I made of it. Macnab was in league with one of those pressmen, who started out to trespass inside the park and draw off all the watchers in pursuit, including the man at the Lang Whang. He had them hunting for about half an hour, and in that time Macnab killed his fish…He must be a dandy at the game, too, to get a salmon in that dead water…Jimsie—that’s the man who was supposed to watch the Lang Whang—returned before he could get away with the beast, so what does the fellow do but dig a bit out of the fish and leave it on the bank, while he lures Jimsie to chase him. Jimsie saw the fish and put it down to an otter, and by and by caught the man up the road. There must have been an accomplice in hiding, for when Jimsie went back to pick up the salmon it had disappeared. The fellow, who looked like a hobo, was shut up in a garage, and after dinner we let him go, for we had nothing against him, and now he is rejoicing somewhere at our simplicity…It was a mighty clever bit of work, and I’m not ashamed to be beaten by that class of artist. I hoped to get hold of the pressman and find out something, but the pressman seems to have leaked out of the landscape.”

      “Was that tramp John Macnab?” Agatha asked in an agitated voice.

      “None other. You let him out, Miss Agatha. What was he like? I can’t get proper hold of Jimsie’s talk.”

      “Oh, I should have guessed,” the girl lamented. “For, of course, I saw he was a gentleman. He was in horrible old clothes, but he had an Eton shield on his watch-chain. He seemed to be ashamed to remember it. He said he had come down in the world—through drink!”

      Archie struggled hard with the emotions evoked by this description of an abstemious personage currently believed to be making an income of forty thousand pounds.

      “Then we’ve both seen him,” Janet cried. “Describe him, Agatha. Was he youngish and big, and fair-haired, and sunburnt? Had he blue eyes?”

      “No-o. He wasn’t like that. He was about papa’s height, and rather slim, I think. He was very dirty and hadn’t shaved, but I should say he was sallow, and his eyes—well, they were certainly not blue.”

      “Are you certain? You only saw him in the dark.”

      “Yes, СКАЧАТЬ