CHAPTER XIV
DEAD MAN'S MONEY
I was so much amazed by this extraordinary suggestion, that for themoment I could only stand staring at him, and before I could find mytongue he threw a quick question at me.
"Lindsey wouldn't stand in your way, would he?" he asked. "Such jobsdon't go begging, you know."
"Mr. Lindsey wouldn't stand in my way, Sir Gilbert," I answered. "But--"
"But what?" said he, seeing me hesitate. "Is it a post you wouldn't careabout, then? There's five hundred a year with it--and a permanency."
Strange as it may seem, considering all the circumstances, it neveroccurred to me for one moment that the man was buying my silence, buyingme. There wasn't the ghost of such a thought in my head--I let out whatwas there in my next words.
"I'd like such a post fine, Sir Gilbert," I said. "What I'm thinkingof--could I give satisfaction?"
He laughed at that, as if my answer amused him.
"Well, there's nothing like a spice of modesty, Moneylaws," said he. "Ifyou can do all we've just talked of, you'll satisfy me well enough. Ilike the looks of you, and I'm sure you're the sort that'll do the thingthoroughly. The post's at your disposal, if you like to take it."
I was still struggling with my amazement. Five hundred pounds ayear!--and a permanency! It seemed a fortune to a lad of my age. And Iwas trying to find the right words in which to say all that I felt, whenhe spoke again.
"Look here!" he said. "Don't let us arrange this as if we'd done itbehind your present employer's back--I wouldn't like Mr. Lindsey to thinkI'd gone behind him to get you. Let it be done this way: I'll call on Mr.Lindsey myself, and tell him I'm wanting a steward for the property, andthat I've heard good reports of his clerk, and that I'll engage you onhis recommendation. He's the sort that would give you a strong word byway of reference, eh?"
"Oh, he'll do that, Sir Gilbert!" I exclaimed. "Anything that'llhelp me on--"
"Then let's leave it at that," said he. "I'll drop in on him at hisoffice--perhaps to-morrow. In the meantime, keep your own counsel.But--you'll take my offer?"
"I'd be proud and glad to, Sir Gilbert," said I. "And if you'll makeallowance for a bit of inexperience--"
"You'll do your best, eh?" he laughed. "That's all right, Moneylaws."
He walked out with me to the door, and on to the terrace. And as Iwheeled my bicycle away from the porch, he took a step or two alongsideme, his hands in his pockets, his lips humming a careless tune. Andsuddenly he turned on me.
"Have you heard any more about that affair last night?" he asked. "I meanabout Crone?"
"Nothing, Sir Gilbert," I answered.
"I hear that the opinion is that the man was struck down by a gaff," heremarked. "And perhaps killed before he was thrown into the Till."
"So the doctor seemed to think," I said. "And the police, too, Ibelieve."
"Aye, well," said he, "I don't know if the police are aware of it, butI'm very sure there's night-poaching of salmon going on hereabouts,Moneylaws. I've fancied it for some time, and I've had thoughts oftalking to the police about it. But you see, my land doesn't touch eitherTill or Tweed, so I haven't cared to interfere. But I'm sure that it isso, and it wouldn't surprise me if both these men, Crone and Phillips,met their deaths at the hands of the gang I'm thinking of. It's a notionthat's worth following up, anyway, and I'll have a word with Murray aboutit when I'm in the town tomorrow."
Then, with a brief good night, he left me and went into the house, and Igot outside Hathercleugh and rode home in a whirl of thoughts. And I'llconfess readily that those thoughts had little to do with what SirGilbert Carstairs had last talked about--they were not so much ofPhillips, nor of Crone, nor of his suggestion of a possible gang ofnight-poachers, as about myself and this sudden chance of a great changein my fortunes. For, when all is said and done, we must needs look afterourselves, and when a young man of the age I was then arrived at is askedif he would like to exchange a clerkship of a hundred and twenty a yearfor a stewardship at more than four times as much--as a permanency--youmust agree that his mind will fix itself on what such an exchange meansto him, to the exclusion of all other affairs. Five hundred a year to memeant all sorts of fine things--independence, and a house of my own, and,not least by a long way, marriage with Maisie Dunlop. And it was a wonderthat I managed to keep cool, and to hold my tongue when I got home--buthold it I did, and to some purpose, and more than once. During the halfhour which I managed to get with Maisie last thing that night, she askedme why I was so silent, and, hard though it was to keep from doing so, Ilet nothing out.
The truth was, Sir Gilbert Carstairs had fascinated me, not only with hisgrand offer, but with his pleasant, off-hand, companionable manners. Hehad put me at my ease at once; he had spoken so frankly and with suchevident sincerity about his doings on that eventful night, that Iaccepted every word he said. And--in the little that I had thought ofit--I was very ready to accept his theory as to how those two men hadcome by their deaths--and it was one that was certainly feasible, andworth following up. Some years before, I remembered, something of thesame sort had gone on, and had resulted in an affray betweensalmon-poachers and river-watchers--why should it not have cropped upagain? The more I thought of it, the more I felt Sir Gilbert'ssuggestion to have reason in it. And in that case all the mystery wouldbe knocked clean out of these affairs--the murder of Phillips, the deathof Crone, might prove to be the outcome of some vulgar encounter betweenthem and desperadoes who had subsequently scuttled to safety and weredoubtless quaking near at hand, in fear of their misdeeds coming tolight; what appeared to be a perfect tangle might be the simplest matterin the world. So I judged--and next morning there came news that seemedto indicate that matters were going to be explained on the lines whichSir Gilbert had suggested.
Chisholm brought that news to our office, just after Mr. Lindsey had comein. He told it to both of us; and from his manner of telling it, we bothsaw--I, perhaps, not so clearly as Mr. Lindsey--that the police werealready at their favourite trick of going for what seemed to them theobvious line of pursuit.
"I'm thinking we've got on the right clue at last, as regards the murderof yon man Phillips," announced Chisholm, with an air of satisfaction."And if it is the right clue, as it seems to be, Mr. Lindsey, there'll beno great mystery in the matter, after all. Just a plain case of murderfor the sake of robbery--that's it!"
"What's your clue?" asked Mr. Lindsey quietly.
"Well," answered Chisholm, with a sort of sly wink, "you'll understand,Mr. Lindsey, that we haven't been doing nothing these last few days,since yon inquest on Phillips, you know. As a matter of fact, we'vebeen making inquiries wherever there seemed a chance of findinganything out. And we've found something out--through one of the banksyonder at Peebles."
He looked at us as if to see if we were impressed; seeing, at any rate,that we were deeply interested, he went on.
"It appears--I'll tell you the story in order, as it were," he said--"itappears that about eight months ago the agent of the British Linen Bankat Peebles got a letter from one John Phillips, written from a placecalled Colon, in Panama--that's Central America, as you'll beaware--enclosing a draft for three thousand pounds on the InternationalBanking Corporation of New York. The letter instructed the Peebles agentto collect this sum and to place it in his bank to the writer's credit.Furthermore, it stated that the money was to be there until Phillips camehome to Scotland, in a few months' time from the date of writing. This,of course, was all done in due course--there was the three thousandpounds in Phillips's name. There was a bit of correspondence between himat Colon and the bank at Peebles--then, at last, he wrote that he wasleaving Panama for Scotland, and would call on the bank soon after hisarrival. And on the morning of the day on which he was murdered, Phillipsdid call at the bank and established his identity, and so on, and he thendrew out five hundred pounds of his money--two hundred pounds in gold,and the rest in small notes; and, Mr. Lindsey, he carried that sum awaywith him in a little handbag t
hat he had with him."
Mr. Lindsey, who had been listening with great attention, nodded.
"Aye!" he said. "Carried five hundred pounds away with him. Go on, then."
"Now," continued Chisholm, evidently very well satisfied with himself forthe way he was marshalling his facts, "we--that is, to put it plainly, Imyself--have been making more searching inquiries about Cornhill andColdstream. There's two of the men at Cornhill station will swear thatwhen Phillips got out of the train there, that evening of the murder, hewas carrying a little handbag such as the bank cashier remembers--asmall, new, brown leather bag. They're certain of it--theticket-collector remembers him putting it under his arm while he searchedhis pocket for his ticket. And what's more, the landlord of the innacross the bridge there at Coldstream he remembers the bag, clearlyenough, and that Phillips never had his hand off it while he was in hishouse. And of course, Mr. Lindsey, the probability is that in that bagwas the money--just as he had drawn it out of the bank."
"You've more to tell," remarked Mr. Lindsey.
"Just so," replied Chisholm. "And there's two items. First of all--we'vefound that bag! Empty, you may be sure. In the woods near that old ruinon Till side. Thrown away under a lot of stuff--dead stuff, you'llunderstand, where it might have lain till Doomsday if I hadn't had amost particular search made. But--that's not all. The second item ishere--the railway folk at Cornhill are unanimous in declaring that bythat same train which brought Phillips there, two men, strangers, thatlooked like tourist gentlemen, came as well, whose tickets werefrom--where d'ye think, then, Mr. Lindsey?"
"Peebles, of course," answered Mr. Lindsey.
"And you've guessed right!" exclaimed Chisholm, triumphantly; "Peebles itwas--and now, how do you think this affair looks? There's so manytourists on Tweedside this time of the year that nobody paid any greatattention that night to these men, nor where they went. But what could beplainer, d'ye think?--of course, those two had tracked Phillips from thebank, and they followed him till they had him in yon place where he wasfound, and they murdered him--to rob him!"