CHAPTER XXIV
THE SUIT OF CLOTHES
Mr. Lindsey made no further remark until we were half through ourlunch--and it was not to me that he then spoke, but to a waiter who wasjust at his elbow.
"There's three things you can get me," he said. "Our bill--a railwayguide--a map of Scotland. Bring the map first."
The man went away, and Mr. Lindsey bent across the table.
"Largo is in Fife," said he. "We'll go there. I'm going to see thatyacht with my own eyes, and hear with my own ears what the man who foundit has got to say. For, as I remarked just now, my lad, the mere factthat the yacht was found empty doesn't prove that Carstairs has beendrowned! And we'll just settle up here, and go round and see Smeaton toget a look at those letters, and then we'll take train to Largo and makea bit of inquiry."
Mr. Smeaton had the letters spread out on his desk when we went in, andMr. Lindsey looked them over. There were not more than half a dozenaltogether, and they were mere scraps, as he had said--usually a fewlines on half-sheets of paper. Mr. Lindsey appeared to take no greatnotice of any of them but the last--the one that Smeaton had quoted to usin the morning. But over that he bent for some time, examining itclosely, in silence.
"I wish you'd lend me this for a day or two," he said at last. "I'll takethe greatest care of it; it shan't go out of my own personal possession,and I'll return it by registered post. The fact is, Mr. Smeaton, I wantto compare that writing with some other writing."
"Certainly," agreed Smeaton, handing the letter over. "I'll do anything Ican to help. I'm beginning, you know, Mr. Lindsey, to fear I'm mixed upin this. You'll keep me informed?"
"I can give you some information now," answered Mr. Lindsey, pulling outthe telegram. "There's more mystery, do you see? And Moneylaws and I areoff to Largo now--we'll take it on our way home. For by this and that,I'm going to know what's become of Sir Gilbert Carstairs!"
We presently left Mr. Gavin Smeaton, with a promise to keep him postedup, and a promise on his part that he'd come to Berwick, if that seemednecessary; and then we set out on our journey. It was not such an easybusiness to get quickly to Largo, and the afternoon was wearing well intoevening when we reached it, and found the police official who had wiredto Berwick. There was not much that he could tell us, of his ownknowledge. The yacht, he said, was now lying in the harbour at LowerLargo, where it had been brought in by a fisherman named AndrewRobertson, to whom he offered to take us. Him we found at a little inn,near the harbour--a taciturn, somewhat sour-faced fellow who showed nogreat desire to talk, and would probably have given us scant informationif we had not been accompanied by the police official, though hebrightened up when Mr. Lindsey hinted at the possibility of reward.
"When did you come across this yacht?" asked Mr. Lindsey.
"Between eight and nine o'clock this morning," replied Robertson.
"And where?"
"About seven miles out--a bit outside the bay."
"Empty?" demanded Mr. Lindsey, looking keenly at the man. "Not asoul in her?"
"Not a soul!" answered Robertson. "Neither alive nor dead!"
"Were her sails set at all?" asked Mr. Lindsey.
"They were not. She was just drifting--anywhere," replied the man. "And Iput a line to her and brought her in."
"Any other craft than yours about at the time?" inquired Mr. Lindsey.
"Not within a few miles," said Robertson.
We went off to the yacht then. She had been towed into a quiet corner ofthe harbour, and an old fellow who was keeping guard over her assured usthat nobody but the police had been aboard her since Robertson broughther in. We, of course, went aboard, Mr. Lindsey, after being assured byme that this really was Sir Gilbert Carstairs' yacht, remarking that hedidn't know we could do much good by doing so. But I speedily made adiscovery of singular and significant importance. Small as she was, theyacht possessed a cabin--there was no great amount of head-room in it,it's true, and a tall man could not stand upright in it, but it wasspacious for a craft of that size, and amply furnished with shelving andlockers. And on these lockers lay the clothes--a Norfolk suit of greytweed--in which Sir Gilbert Carstairs had set out with me from Berwick.
I let out a fine exclamation when I saw that, and the other three turnedand stared at me.
"Mr. Lindsey!" said I, "look here! Those are the clothes he was wearingwhen I saw the last of him. And there's the shirt he had on, too, and theshoes. Wherever he is, and whatever happened to him, he made a completechange of linen and clothing before he quitted the yacht! That's a plainfact, Mr. Lindsey!"
A fact it was--and one that made me think, however it affected theothers. It disposed, for instance, of any notion or theory of suicide. Aman doesn't change his clothes if he's going to drown himself. And itlooked as if this had been part of some premeditated plan: at the veryleast of it, it was a curious thing.
"You're sure of that?" inquired Mr. Lindsey, eyeing the things that hadbeen thrown aside.
"Dead sure of it!" said I. "I couldn't be mistaken."
"Did he bring a portmanteau or anything aboard with him, then?" askedhe.
"He didn't; but he could have kept clothes and linen and the like inthese lockers," I pointed out, beginning to lift the lids. "Seehere!--here's brushes and combs and the like. I tell you before everhe left this yacht, or fell out of it, or whatever's happened him,he'd changed everything from his toe to his top--there's the very caphe was wearing."
They all looked at each other, and Mr. Lindsey's gaze finally fasteneditself on Andrew Robertson.
"I suppose you don't know anything about this, my friend?" he asked.
"What should I know?" answered Robertson, a bit surlily. "The yacht'sjust as I found it--not a thing's been touched."
There was the luncheon basket lying on the cabin table--just as I hadlast seen it, except that Carstairs had evidently finished the provisionswhich he and I had left. And I think the same thought occurred to Mr.Lindsey and myself at the same moment--how long had he stopped on boardthat yacht after his cruel abandoning of me? For forty-eight hours hadelapsed since that episode, and in forty-eight hours a man may do a greatdeal in the way of making himself scarce--which now seemed to me to beprecisely what Sir Gilbert Carstairs had done, though in what particularfashion, and exactly why, it was beyond either of us to surmise.
"I suppose no one has heard anything of this yacht having been seendrifting about yesterday, or during last night?" asked Mr. Lindsey,putting his question to both men. "No talk of it hereabouts?"
But neither the police nor Andrew Robertson had heard a murmur of thatnature, and there was evidently nothing to be got out of them more thanwe had already got. Nor had the police heard of any stranger being seenabout there--though, as the man who was with us observed, there was nogreat likelihood of anybody noticing a stranger, for Largo was nowadays asomewhat popular seaside resort, and down there on the beach there weremany strangers, it being summer, and holiday time, so that a strange manmore or less would pass unobserved.
"Supposing a man landed about the coast, here," asked Mr. Lindsey--"I'mjust putting a case to you--and didn't go into the town, but walked alongthe beach--where would he strike a railway station, now?"
The police official replied that there were railway stations to theright and left of the bay--a man could easily make Edinburgh in onedirection, and St. Andrews in the other; and then, not unnaturally, hewas wanting to know if Mr. Lindsey was suggesting that Sir GilbertCarstairs had sailed his yacht ashore, left it, and that it had driftedout to sea again?
"I'm not suggesting anything," answered Mr. Lindsey. "I'm onlyspeculating on possibilities. And that's about as idle work asstanding here talking. What will be practical will be to arrangeabout this yacht being locked up in some boat-house, and we'd bestsee to that at once."
We made arrangements with the owner of a boat-house to pull the yacht inthere, and to keep her under lock and key, and, after settling matterswith the police to have an eye on her, and see that her contents wer
euntouched until further instructions reached them from Berwick, we wentoff to continue our journey. But we had stayed so long in Largo that whenwe got to Edinburgh the last train for Berwick had gone, and we wereobliged to turn into an hotel for the night. Naturally, all our talk wasof what had just transpired--the events of the last two days, said Mr.Lindsey, only made these mysteries deeper than they were before, and whySir Gilbert Carstairs should have abandoned his yacht, as he doubtlesshad, was a still further addition to the growing problem.
"And I'm not certain, my lad, that I believe yon man Robertson's tale,"he remarked, as we were discussing matters from every imaginable point ofview just before going to bed. "He may have brought the yacht in, but wedon't know that he didn't bring Carstairs aboard her. Why was that changeof clothes made? Probably because he knew that he'd be described aswearing certain things, and he wanted to come ashore in other things. Foraught we know, he came safely ashore, boarded a train somewhere in theneighbourhood, or at Largo itself--why not?--and went off, likely here,to Edinburgh--where he'd mingle with a few thousand of folk,unnoticed."
"Then--in that case, you think he's--what, Mr. Lindsey?" I asked. "Do youmean he's running away?"
"Between you and me, that's not far from what I do think," he replied."And I think I know what he's running away from, too! But we'll hear alot more before many hours are over, or I'm mistaken."
We were in Berwick at an early hour next morning, and we went straight tothe police station and into the superintendent's office. Chisholm waswith Mr. Murray when we walked in, and both men turned to us witheagerness.
"Here's more mystery about this affair, Mr. Lindsey!" exclaimed Murray."It's enough to make a man's wits go wool-gathering. There's no news ofSir Gilbert, and Lady Carstairs has been missing since twelve o'clocknoon yesterday!"