Murder of a Lady (10 page)

Chapter XIV

A Queer Omission

The discovery of the herring scale on Dundas's head sent Dr. Hailey down to Ardmore to McDonald. The doctor's house stood on a spur of rock overlooking the harbour. As he ascended the path, which mounted in zigzags to the house, he had a view of the whole extent of this singular natural basin with its islands and bays. The bulk of the fishing-fleet lay at anchor, far up, opposite the town, but skiffs, in pairs, were dotted over the whole expanse of water. He marked the clean, dainty lines of these vessels in excellent accord with their short, raked masts. They looked like young gulls in their first grey plumage, lively, eager. A small coaster was fussing in from the loch. He lingered to watch it enter the narrow mouth of the harbour. As it passed, the fringes of seaweed round the islands were lifted and small waves broke on the shores. The smell of boats and seaweed and fish rose to his nostrils. Soft voices reached him across the still, hot air. He ascended higher and turned again. From this point the drying poles, on which a few herring-nets hung like corpses on a gallows, had a macabre appearance, as of some great ship in irretrievable wreck. But the colour of the nets made very comfortable contrast with the pine-wood on Garvel point, across the bay.

The house was built of red sandstone and had a red roof which stood up sharply against the hill behind it. The windows looked out on the harbour, but their longest view was limited everywhere by rocks and heather, a patchwork of purple and green and grey, very bare and desolate, even in sunlight. He rang the bell and was invited to enter by a young woman whose high colour and dark, shining hair were in the tradition of Highland beauty. She showed him into a big room and only then announced that her master had not yet returned from his morning round.

“But I'm expecting him back at any moment now, so perhaps you'll be able to wait.”

She went away immediately, without hearing his answer. He walked to the bookshelf which filled one side of the room and glanced at its contents. McDonald, it seemed, was a reader of catholic taste, for here were most of the classics of European literature, especially of French literature: Balzac, Flaubert, de Maupassant, Montaigne, Voltaire, Saint Beuve. He pulled out one or two of the volumes. They looked distinctly the worse of wear. There were no medical books on any of the shelves. The owner of the library, clearly, was a romantic, though he had tempered his enthusiasm with other fare. Dr. Hailey found it difficult to reconcile his knowledge of the man with the man's books. The room was comfortable as men understand that word; it was supplied with big chairs and the apparatus of reading and smoking. A shot-gun, of rather old-fashioned type, whose barrels were shining with oil, stood in one corner. A vase on the mantelpiece was piled high with cartridges. The walls bore pictures of boats, all of them, evidently, the work of the same artist, all equally undistinguished. Dr. Hailey examined one of them. It was signed by McDonald himself.

He sat down and took a pinch of snuff. The medical profession, he reflected, is full of men who wish, all their lives, that they had never entered it. Yet very few of these doctors succeed in making their escape because, though they possess the temperaments of artists, they lack the necessary power of expression or perhaps the necessary craftsmanship. A practice makes too many demands on time and strength to be bedfellow with any enthusiasm. Since McDonald painted pictures, the odds were that he wrote novels or poetry. It was unlikely that his accomplishment in writing was better than his accomplishment in painting. Why had he not married?

A second pinch of snuff went to the answering of this last question, but before it had been answered McDonald himself strode into the room.

“Annie told me that a very tall man was waiting for me,” he exclaimed. “I thought it must be you.” He shook hands. “Well, anything new?”

“Not much— There was a herring scale on Dundas's head.”

“Good heavens! So the same weapon was used in both cases?”

Dr. Hailey shook his head.

“I don't think that's probable,” he said, “though of course the head of an axe might cause such an injury.”

McDonald's tone became undecided. He stood in the middle of the floor frowning heavily and tugging at his chin. At last he shook his head.

“These fish scales are mysterious enough,” he declared, “but the real mystery, it seems to me, isn't going to be solved by them or by any question of weapons. Until you can explain how these two bedrooms were entered and how escape from them took place you are necessarily working in the dark.”

Dr. Hailey considered for a moment.

“It's obvious,” he said, “that Duchlan has made up his mind that the murders are due to supernatural agency.”

“He was certain to do that in any case.”

“Quite. And consequently the temptation, from the murderer's point of view, to supply evidence of such supernatural agency must have been strong. That evidence would tend to paralyse his pursuers.”

“I don't follow. What evidence of supernatural agency has he supplied?”

“The fish scales.”

McDonald stared.

“What, herring scales on Loch Fyne side! How can they be evidence of supernatural agency?”

“Duchlan thought he saw something which gleamed in the moonlight floating away from the mouth of the burn after Dundas was killed.”

The Ardmore doctor whistled.

“So that's it, is it?”

“That?”

“The swimmers. Every time anything which can't be explained happens on Loch Fyne side, it's the ‘swimmers' who are to blame. They disturb the shoals of herring and so produce bad catches or they call the fish out of the nets at the moment when the catch seems to be secure. You can point out that such losses are due to carelessness till you're black in the face. Nobody believes you. What can mere men do against such beings?”

Dr. Hailey nodded.

“Ardmore lives by the chances of the sea,” he said.

“Most superstitions, as you know, are embodiments of bad luck. In agricultural districts the demons blight the crops and dry up the wells…”

“Exactly.”

“The point for us is that these fish scales may have been introduced deliberately into the wounds with the object of suggesting that no human hand was concerned in these murders. If so, we may be able to find our man by a process of elimination. The use of superstition as a cloak for crime is evidence of a fairly high order of intelligence.”

“I see what you mean. The servants, for example, would not think of doing that.”

Dr. Hailey nodded. He leaned back in his chair. “How long have you attended the Duchlan family?” he asked.

“More than ten years.”

“And yet you were unaware that Miss Gregor had been wounded?”

“I was. I've never examined Miss Gregor's chest.” McDonald strode to the window and back again. “She often suffered from colds and two years ago had a severe attack of bronchitis, but she would never allow me to listen to her breathing. Duchlan told me, before I saw her the first time, that she had a great horror, amounting to an obsession, of medical examinations and that I must do my best to treat her without causing her distress.”

“So he knew about the scar? Dundas said that he denied all knowledge of it.”

“It's possible, isn't it, that she had made the same excuses to her brother that she made to her doctors. Duchlan may have believed that she really was averse from any examination.”

Dr. Hailey nodded.

“That's true. But you'll admit that it's strange she should have sustained a wound of such severity without allowing anybody in the house to find out that she had sustained it.” He wrinkled his brows. “I still think that, when she locked her door, she was the victim of panic. Is there a portrait of Duchlan's wife at the castle?”

“I've never seen one.”

“I looked for one in all the public rooms and in some of the bedrooms. I didn't find it. For a man who clings to his possessions so tenaciously, that's a queer omission. Every other event of Duchlan's life is celebrated in some fashion on his walls.”

McDonald sat down and drew his wooden leg forward with both hands.

“What are you driving at?” he asked.

“I'm beginning to think that Duchlan's wife was concerned in the wounding of Miss Gregor. That would explain the absence of her portrait and the wish to hide the scar. It might explain Miss Gregor's panic at sight of Eoghan's wife. Both father and son, remember, married Irish girls. Mrs. Eoghan's sudden appearance in her bedroom may conceivably have recalled to the old woman's mind a terrible crisis of her life.”

“Miss Gregor, believe me, was a level-headed woman.”

“No doubt. But shocks of that sort, as you know, leave indelible scars on the mind, so that every reminder of them induces a condition of nervous prostration.”

“Very well,” McDonald moved his leg again and leaned forward: “What happened after she locked her bedroom door?”

“I think she shut and bolted her windows. It's only reasonable to suppose that the windows were open on account of the heat.”

“And then?”

“Then she was murdered.”

The country doctor sighed. He repeated: “Then she was murdered,” adding in weary tones: “How? Why? By whom?”

He raised his kindly grey eyes to look his colleague in the face. Dr. Hailey dismissed his questions with a short, impatient gesture.

“Never mind that. Come back to Mrs. Eoghan. She told me that she went to her aunt's room in a blue silk dressing-gown, because, having quarrelled with her aunt before dinner, she now wished to make up her quarrel. A similar order of events may have occurred in the case of Duchlan's wife.”

McDonald's face had become troubled.

“You don't suggest, do you,” he demanded in tones of impatience, “that that fearful wound was inflicted by a girl?”

“No.” Dr. Hailey shook his head. “You go too fast, my friend. Leave the room out of the picture for a moment, entirely out of the picture. Here's a more interesting question: was the quarrel between Mrs. Eoghan and Miss Gregor of the same nature as the quarrel between Duchlan's wife and Miss Gregor? The answer depends, obviously on Miss Gregor. There are women, plenty of women, who cannot live at peace with the wives of their men-folk, women who resent these wives as interlopers, women whose chief object it becomes to estrange their husbands from them, sometimes even to alienate their children. Was Miss Gregor one of these women?”

A prolonged silence followed this challenge. McDonald's uneasiness appeared to grow from moment to moment. He kept shifting in his chair and moving his wooden leg about in accord with the movements of his body. A deep flush had spread over his face.

“She was one of those women,” he said at last.

Chapter XV

The Real Enemy

McDonald rose and stood in front of the empty fireplace.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, “I have reason to know that Mrs. Eoghan's life at Duchlan was made impossible by Miss Gregor's jealousy. Almost from the moment when Eoghan went away to Malta, his aunt began to torment and persecute his wife. The burden of her complaint was that little Hamish, the heir of Duchlan, was not being properly brought up.”

The doctor paused and turned to find his pipe on the mantelpiece behind him. He put the pipe in his mouth and opened a jar of tobacco.

“My information comes from Mrs. Eoghan herself,” he stated. “I suppose I can count myself one of the only two friends she possessed in this neighbourhood.”

He extracted a handful of tobacco from the jar and began to fill his pipe, proceeding with this task in a manner the deliberation of which was belied by his embarrassment. Dr. Hailey saw that his hands were shaking.

“The whole atmosphere at Duchlan, believe me, was charged with reproof and every day brought its heavy burden of correction. Miss Gregor inflicted her wounds in soft tones that soon grew unendurable. She never ordered; she pleaded. But her pleas were so many back-handers. She possessed the most amazing ingenuity in discovering the weak points of her antagonist and a sleepless persistence in turning them to her advantage. Things came to a head a month ago.”

His pipe was full. He lit it carefully.

“A month ago, little Hamish had a fit. I was sent for. I haven't had as much experience of nervous ailments as you have had and I confess that I was frightened. I suppose my fear communicated itself to the child's mother. At any rate she told me that she felt sure the trouble had its origin in the state of her own nerves and that she had made up her mind to leave Duchlan. ‘Eoghan's work in Ayrshire is nearly finished,' she said, ‘and I've told him that, if he won't make a home for me after that, I'll leave him.' I could see that she was at the end of her resources. I tried to calm her; but she was past being talked round. When I came downstairs from the nursery Miss Gregor was waiting for me. ‘It's his mother, poor child,' she lamented. ‘My dear Oonagh means well, of course, but she's had no experience. No experience.'”

He dropped his pipe and stooped to pick it up.

“I can hear her voice still,” he declared. “She shook her head slowly as she spoke and tears came into her eyes. ‘We've done everything that love can do, doctor,' she told me. ‘But I'm afraid it's too true that our efforts have been resented. Eoghan's father is deeply distressed. I cannot tell you what I feel. As you know I've looked on Eoghan and loved him as my own child.' Then the suggestion for which I was waiting was offered: ‘Couldn't you use your authority to insist that dear Oonagh must have a complete rest. She has sisters and brothers who will be so glad to see her, and she needn't feel a moment's anxiety about dear Hamish. Christina and I will devote ourselves to him.' What could I say? I told her that such plans must wait till the child was better.”

He paused. Dr. Hailey, who was watching him closely, asked:

“How did she receive that opinion?”

“Badly, that's to say, with an exquisite resignation. ‘Of course, doctor,' was what she said, ‘we must all bow to your discretion in a matter of this kind. You alone are possessed of the knowledge necessary to a decision. But I do feel that I have a duty to place before you those personal considerations which no doctor can be expected to learn for himself.' In other words: ‘If you're on the side of the enemy, I shall make it exceedingly unpleasant for you.' I saw the promise of that in her eyes. And she knew that I saw it.”

“You stood your ground, though?”

There was eagerness in the doctor's tones.

“Yes. That old woman roused my fighting instinct. There was a whine in her voice that made my hair bristle. She used to pronounce the word ‘dear', ‘dee-ah', and she always pronounced Mrs. Eoghan's name ‘Una' although she had been corrected hundreds of times. Behind her stubborn nature there was a kind of impishness, a wicked quality, which took joy in hurting the people she didn't like. You looked at the saint or the martyr and you knew that a little devil was watching you out of her swimming eyes.”

McDonald's face was red. He shook his head.

“If there had been another doctor here, he would have been sent for. But there isn't. She had to put up with me. Each time we met I felt that her dislike was growing. And she couldn't dislike without disapproving. People who got into her black books were soon described by her as ‘not the right thing', a phrase which she knew how to use so that it conveyed an impression of moral obliquity. I was certain I should not have long to wait for some proof of her wish to punish me…”

Dr. Hailey held up his hand.

“A moment, please. Did you continue to visit Hamish?”

“Yes.”

“And to refuse to allow Miss Gregor to interfere?”

“I refused to agree that Mrs. Eoghan should leave the child and go to Ireland. One day I said that I thought a child's mother was always the best nurse who could be obtained for him. Miss Gregor winced when I said that, and just for one instant I was sorry for her.”

“I see.”

McDonald's nervousness increased. He tried to relight his pipe and then abandoned the attempt.

“A week later, three weeks ago,” he said, “I heard a knock at this door one night just when I was going to bed. I opened the door. Mrs. Eoghan was standing behind it.”

A deep silence fell in the room. It was broken by the pleasant sound of blocks and tackle, the hoisting of sails. Dr. Hailey nodded without offering any comment.

“The girl was in a terrible state, weeping, hysterical, half-crazy. She fell into the hall when I opened the door. I picked her up. Her clothes seemed to have been flung on anyhow. I carried her in here and put her in that chair,” with a sudden, jerky gesture he indicated the chair in which Dr. Hailey was seated. “She told me she had left Duchlan for ever. Later on, when she had recovered a little, she told me that she had had a violent quarrel with Miss Gregor. She said Hamish had had another turn. ‘Aunt Mary accused me of ill-using him…killing him. I lost all control of myself.'”

“Did it surprise you,” Dr. Hailey asked, “that she should have lost control of herself?”

“No, no. What surprised me was that she had endured Miss Gregor so long.”

“I didn't mean that. Do you think her a hysterical type?”

McDonald hesitated.

“Not hysterical; highly-strung. She has an extremely quick intelligence and a great honesty of mind. Miss Gregor's hypocrisy exasperated her to delirium. She didn't care what happened. She told me that she didn't care what happened.” He covered his eyes with his hand. “I lit the fire here because the night had grown chilly. I boiled the kettle and made tea. After a while she grew calmer and described what had happened. They had all gone to bed. The nurse had called her because Hamish seemed to be breathing badly. She had hurried upstairs to find Miss Gregor giving the child a dose of sal volatile. You can imagine the rest. I had said that stimulants were not to be given.”

“Miss Gregor had suggested a dose of sal volatile?”

“Yes. That morning. Mrs. Eoghan ordered her out of the nursery. She obeyed but roused her brother and brought him upstairs to fight her battle for her. Duchlan was clay in her hands; like most cowards he has a cruel streak in his nature.”

McDonald broke off. His uneasiness was increasing. He put his pipe down and stood staring in front of him at the pictures on the wall opposite. “Naturally Mrs. Eoghan quoted my order. She demanded that I should be sent for. Duchlan said: ‘It seems to me, and your aunt agrees with me, that Dr. McDonald has been sent for quite often enough lately.' There was no mistaking what he insinuated. She wouldn't defend herself. She left them and came here.”

“I see.” Dr. Hailey moved in his chair. He looked up and saw that his companion was still gazing at the pictures. The muscles of McDonald's neck stood out rigidly; his arms were stiff.

“Miss Gregor had prompted that remark?”

“Of course. She did all her brother's thinking for him. Mrs. Eoghan realized that the prompting hadn't stopped at Duchlan…”

“What?”

“Miss Gregor wrote regularly to Eoghan.”

“And yet Mrs. Eoghan came here. Surely that was playing directly into the enemy's hands?”

Dr. Hailey kept his eyes averted without knowing exactly why he did so. A prolonged silence followed his question. At last McDonald said:

“I fancy Eoghan had written his wife an unkind letter.”

“Blaming her for sending for you?”

“Accusing her perhaps of being in love with me.”

Dr. Hailey sat up.

“Do you mean that she was leaving her husband and child when she came here?” he exclaimed.

“She was.”

They heard another sail being hoisted. The sound of rowlocks came up to them from the harbour and then, suddenly and intolerably, the hoot of a steam-whistle.

“Why did she come to you?” Dr. Hailey asked.

“For advice and shelter.” McDonald turned and picked up his pipe. His uneasiness seemed to have left him. He lit the tobacco and began to smoke.

“Naturally,” he said, “you want to know how much truth there was in Miss Gregor's suggestion. So far as Mrs. Eoghan is concerned the answer is: None at all. But that isn't the answer in my case. I want to tell you,” he turned and faced his companion as he spoke, “that I fell in love with Mrs. Eoghan almost as soon as I met her. Her husband was then in Malta. She was hungry for friendship and help and I gave her both. I'm not a child. I knew what had happened to me. And I knew that it was hopeless, in the sense that Oonagh was genuinely in love with her husband. But knowledge about the causes of pain does not help you when you're compelled to bear it. What did help me was to try to smooth her way for her…”

He shook his head.

“She thought that I was acting solely from professional motives. They were there all right, mind you, those professional motives; the girl's nerves were frayed, jagged. But Miss Gregor wasn't so unsuspecting. I had dared to call her behaviour in question. I was an obstacle in her way. Worse, I was a danger. As I told you just now, she hated me.” He drew a deep breath. “Do you know, Hailey, there was something big in that wicked old woman's character? I couldn't help admiring her. The busy way she set about discrediting my motives—first in her own mind, then in Duchlan's. What persistence! And mind you, I had sympathy for her too. Eoghan was her child. She meant to hold him and his for ever. I saw that in her little, quick brown eyes. I had more than Highland pride and Highland craft against me. More than a will as strong as buffalo hide. Motherhood, hungry, unsatisfied, implacable was the real enemy. Deep called to deep. I knew her and she knew me. Only one mistake she made and that's not strange in a woman. Oonagh wasn't in love and hadn't guessed, hadn't dreamed what my feelings were. There's the misfortune that nobody could cure. I'm the only doctor in a radius of twelve miles. Oonagh kept sending for me for herself or Hamish and I could plead my duty against my scruples. The old woman's eyes saw every move. When Eoghan came back from Malta the tension reached breaking-point; only his going to Ayrshire prevented a break. He didn't accuse Oonagh then of running after me, but that was in the back of his mind, where his aunt had put it. But he blamed her for her want of gratitude to his people and for her slackness in Hamish's upbringing. They weren't on speaking terms when he went away. The day he went away she sent for me and told me she was afraid of what she might do.”