14 - Ashiel Mystery - A Detective Story by Mrs. Charles Bryce

When Juliet Byrne, an adopted child, finally uncovers the truth about her familys mysterious past, her father is shockingly murdered. Its up to the brilliant and eccentric Detective Gimblet, with his penchant for chocolate, to untangle the enigmatic Ashiel Mystery.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter fourteen of The AshEL Mystery. This is a LibriVox recording.
All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more
information or to find out how you can volunteer, please
visit LibriVox dot org. The AshEL Mystery by Missus Charles Bryce,

(00:22):
Chapter fourteen. Gimblet was up early next morning, refreshed by
a sound and dreamless sleep. For two hours. Before breakfast,
he wrestled with the cryptic message on the sheet of paper,
trying first one way then another of solving the riddle
it presented, but still finding no solution. He was silent

(00:44):
and preoccupied during the morning meal, replying to inquiries as
to his headache, alternately with obvious inattention and exaggerated gratitude.
Neither of the ladies spoke much, however, and his absent
mindedness passed all unnoticed. Lord Ashell was to be buried
that day. Before they left the dining room, somber figures

(01:07):
could be seen striding along the high road toward Invershill,
inhabitants of the scattered villages and people from the neighboring
estates hurrying to show their respect for the dead peer
for the last time. The tragic circumstances of the murder
had aroused great excitement all over the countryside, and a
large gathering assembled at the little island at the head

(01:29):
of the loch, where the mcconaughhans had left their bones
since the early days of the youth of the race.
From the surrounding glens, from distant hills and valleys, and
even from far away Edinburgh and Oban, came mcconaughhan's to
render their final tribute to the head of the clan.
It was surprising to see how large was the muster.

(01:50):
For the most part, a company of tall, thin men
with lean faces and drooping wisps of mustache, to a
mournful dirge on the pipes, Ashell was laid in his
rocky grave, and the throng of black, garmented people was
ferried back the way it had come. Gimblet, rapped to
the ears in a thick overcoat with a silk scarf

(02:11):
wound high around his neck, shivered in the cold air,
for the wind had veered to the north, and the
first breath of the Arctic winter was already carried on it.
The waters of the lock had turned a slady black,
little angry waves broke incessantly over its surface, and inky
black clouds were gathering slowly on the distant horizon. It

(02:32):
looked as if the fine weather were at an end,
as if nature herself were mourning angrily at the wanton
destruction of her child. The pity and regret Gimblet had
felt as he stood by the murdered man's graves suddenly
turned to a feeling of rage, both with himself and
with the victim of the crime. Why in the world

(02:52):
had he not managed to guard against the danger of
whose imminence he had full warning? And why in the
name of everything that was imbecile had lord ashell who
knew much better than any one else, how real the
danger was chosen to sit at a lighted window and
offer so tempting a target to his enemy. Suddenly, in
the midst of his musings, a sound fell on the

(03:14):
detective's ear, a voice he had heard before, low and
musical and curiously resonant. He looked in the direction from
which it came, and saw two people standing together a
little apart. In the crowd of those waiting at the
water's edge for a craft to carry them ashore. There
were only two or three boats, and though the Gillies

(03:35):
bent to their oars with a will, everyone could not
cross the narrow channel which divided the island from the mainland.
At one and the same time, a group had already
formed on the beach of those who were not the
first to get away, and among these were the two
figures that had attracted Gimblet's attention. They were two ladies
who stood watching the boats which had landed their passengers

(03:57):
and were now returning empty. Searest to him, a tall
woman of ample proportions, was visibly affected by the ceremony
she had just witnessed, and dabbed from time to time
at her eyes with a handkerchief. But it was her
companion who interested him. She was short and slender, her
slightness accentuated by the long dress of black cloth and

(04:18):
the small, plain hat of the same color which she wore.
A thick black veil hung down over her face and
obscured it from his view. But about her general appearance
there was something strangely familiar. In a moment, Gimblet knew
what it was and where he had seen her before.
He had caught sight in her hand of a little
bag of striped black satin with purple pansies embroidered at

(04:41):
intervals upon it. Just such a bag had lain upon
the table of his flat in Whitehall a few weeks ago,
on the day when its owner had stolen the envelope
and trusted to him by Lord Ashell it is. She
breathed the detective the widow, and for one while moment
he was on the point of accosting her and demanding

(05:03):
his missing letter. Wiser counsels prevailed, however, and he moved
away to the other side of the small group of
mourners gathered on the stony beach. When he ventured to
look at her again, it was over the shoulder of
a stalwart highlander, whose large frame effectually concealed all of
the little detective except his hat and eyes. A further

(05:23):
surprise was in store for him. The ladies had lifted
her veil and displayed the features of the girl he
had watched in the library on the preceding night. Gimblet
had seen enough, He turned away and found Juliet at
his elbow. She would have passed him by, absorbed in
her sorrow for the father she had found and lost
in the space of one short hour, but he laid

(05:46):
his hand upon her arm. Tell me, he begged, Who
are those two ladies waiting for the boat? Juliet's eyes
followed the direction of his own. Those, she said, are
missus Clutsam and miss Julia Romano. No Ah, Gimblet murmured,
they were among your fellow guests at the castle, weren't they? Yes.

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Juliet's reply was short and a little cold. She could
not understand why the detectives should choose this moment to
question her on trivial details. It showed she considered a
lamentable lack of tact, and involuntarily she resented it. But
surely you told me that everyone had left in Barashchel, persisted,
Gimblet unabashed. He seemed absurdly eager for the information, no doubt,

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Julia reflected bitterly. He admired, Julia, most men would missus
Clutsam lives in another small house of my father's near here,
she replied stiffly. She asked Miss Romaninov to stay with
her for a few days till she could arrange where
to go. This disaster naturally upset everyone's plans. She has

(06:52):
a beautiful face, said Gimblet, Who would think, he murmured,
and stopped abruptly. Perhaps you would like me to introduce you,
Juliet spoke with lofty indifference, but the dismay in Gimblet's
tone as he answered disarmed her. On no account, he
cried the last thing. Besides, for that matter, he added,
truthfully we have met before. Then you will have the

(07:14):
pleasure of renewing your acquaintance. Juliet suggested mischievously. Gimblet had
shown himself so genuinely aghast that her resentful suspicions had vanished.
I expect to have an opportunity of doing so. He agreed, seriously.
That young lady, he went on, in a low, confidential tone,
played a trick on me that I find it hard
to forgive. I look forward with some satisfaction to the

(07:37):
day when the laugh will be on my side. I
admit I ought to be above such paltry considerations. But
what would you. I don't think I am. But please
don't mention my presence to her or her friend. I
imagine she has not so far heard of it. I
won't if you don't like, said Juliet. I don't suppose
I shall see them to speak to But Why do
you feel so sure she doesn't know you are here? Oh?

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How should she? Gimblet returned evasively. I don't suppose my
presence would appear worth commenting upon to any one but
yourself or Lord Ashwell, unless Lady Ruth should mention it.
I don't think she will, said Juliet. She said she
could not speak to anyone to day, and she and
Mark have gone off together in his own boat. I
said I would walk home. Won't you drive with me?

(08:23):
Gimblet suggested he had hired a machine from the distant
village of Inverlegin to carry him to and from the funeral,
but Juliet preferred to walk, finding in physical exercise the
only relief she could obtain from the aching trouble that
oppressed and sickened her. Gimblet drove back alone to the cottage.
He had much to occupy his thoughts. Once back in

(08:44):
his room, he turned his mind to the writing on
the sheet of paper. Remember that where there's a way,
there's a will, face curiosity and take the bull by
the horn. The message, as Gimblet read it, was as
puzzling as if it had been completely in cipher. If
certain of the words possessed some arbitrary meaning to which

(09:04):
the key promised by Lord Ashwell would have furnished the solution.
There seemed little hope of understanding the message until the
key was found. The word way, for instance, may stand
for another that had been previously decided on, and, if
rightly construed, probably indicated the place where the papers were concealed.
Will face curiosity, bull, and horn were likely to represent

(09:30):
other very different words, or perhaps even whole sentences. Without
the key, it was hopeless to search along that line.
Such search must end, as it would begin, in conjecture.
Only he would see if anything more promising could be
arrived at by taking the message as it was and
assuming that all the words bore the meaning usually attributed

(09:51):
to them. For more than an hour, Gimblet racked his
brains to read sense into the senseless phrases, and at
the end of that time was no wise at the
beginning where there's a way, there's a will. Was it
by accident or design that the order in which the
words way and will were placed was different from the
one commonly assigned to them. Had Lord Ashell made a

(10:13):
mistake in arranging the message, or did the will refer
to his Will and testament. If so, why should he
take so roundabout a way of designating it? Doubtless because
something more important than the will was involved. Indeed, if
anything was clear from the ambiguous sentence and the precaution
that Asheyl had taken that though it fell into the

(10:34):
hands of his enemies, it should convey nothing to them,
it was that he considered the mystification of the uninitiated
a matter of transcendental importance. It was plain he contemplated
the possibility of the nihilists knowing where to look for
his message, And at the thought, Gimblet shifted uneasily in
his chair, remembering his first encounter with their representative face

(10:58):
curiosity and take the bull by the horn. Perhaps those words,
as they stood contained some underlying sense, which at present
it was hard to read in them. What it was
seemed impossible to guess. To take the bull by the
horn is a common enough expression, and might represent no
more than a piece of advice to act boldly on

(11:19):
the whole, That was not likely, for would anyone wind
up such a carefully veiled communication with so trite an
every day a saying, or finish such an obscure message
with so ordinary a sentiment face curiosity. However, it was
perhaps a direction how to proceed. The only trouble was
to know what in the world it meant whose curiosity

(11:41):
was to be faced. The behaviors of members of a
nihilist's society could hardly be said to be impelled by
that motive. Gimblet could not see that any one else
had shown any symptom of it. Had curiosity then some
other meaning. The detective, as has been said, was an
amateur of the antique. When not at work, a great

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part of his time was passed in the neighborhood of
curiosity shops and the merchandise they dealt, and immediately occurred
to him in connection with the word? Did the dead
man refer to some peculiarity of the ancient keep? Was
there perhaps the figure or picture of a bull within
the castle whose horn pointed to the ultimate place of concealment?

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It would have seemed Gimblet thought that the hidden receptacle
in the secret stair was difficult enough to find. But
the reason the papers were not placed in there was
plain to him after a minute's reflection. It was doubtless
because they were too bulky to be contained in the
shallow drawer. At all events, there was certainly another hiding place,
and on the whole the best plan seemed to be

(12:43):
to see if the castle could produce any curiosity that
would offer a solution of the problem to the castle. Accordingly,
he went and asked to see Lord ashewell. He was
shown into the smoking room, where Mark was kneeling on
the hearth rug, surrounded by piles of folded and docketed papers.
The door of a small cupboard in the wall beside
the fireplace stood open, revealing a row of deep shelves

(13:07):
packed with the same neat packets. Still hunting for the
will you see, he said, looking up as Gimblet entered.
I'm beginning to give up hope of finding it. But
it's a mercy to have something to do these days,
rather a tedious job, isn't it, said the detective, looking
down at the musty tape bound bundles. Well, it gives
one rather a kink in the back. After a time,

(13:29):
Mark admitted, But I shan't feel easy in my mind
till I've looked through everything, and I'm getting a very
useful idea of the estate. Accounts in the meantime. It
is rather a long business, but I'm getting on with
it slow. But sure, there are such a fearful lot.
Are all these cupboards full of papers? Gimblet asked, looking
around him at the numerous little doors in the paneling

(13:52):
stuffed with them, every blessed one of them. Mark replied,
rather gloomily. And the worst of it is, I'm pretty
certain they're nothing but these dust, the old bills and letters.
But there's nowhere else to look. And I know he
kept nearly everything here. Gimblet sauntered round the room, pulling
open the drawers and peeping in at the piles of documents.
What an accumulation, he remarked. None of these cupboards are locked,

(14:16):
I see, he added, No, he never locked anything up,
said Mark. I've heard him boast he never used a key.
Do you know if one had time to read them?
I believe some of these old letters might be rather amusing.
It looked as if my grandfather and his fathers had
kept every single one that ever was written to them.
I've just come across one from Rayburn, the painter, and

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I saw another a quarter of an hour ago from
Lord Clive, Really, said Gimblet eagerly. Which cupboard were they in?
I should like to see them immensely some time they
were in this one, said Mark, pointing to the shelves
opposite him. Gimblet stood facing it and looked hopefully round
him in all directions for anything like a bull. There

(14:57):
was nothing, however, to suggest such an animal in. He
reflected that interesting though these old letters might be, it
would be going rather far to refer to them as curiosities.
Suddenly an idea struck him. I suppose you haven't come
across anything concerning a papal bull, he inquired. No, said Mark,
looking up in surprise. It's not very likely. I should

(15:19):
you know? No, I suppose not, said Gimblet. Still, you
old families did get a hold of all sorts of
odd things sometimes, and your uncle was a bit of
a collector, wasn't he, Uncle Douglas, said Mark, not he.
He didn't care a bit for that kind of thing
you can see in the drawing room, the sort of
horrors he used to buy. He was thoroughly early Victorian

(15:41):
in his tastes, and ought to have been born fifty
years sooner than he was. Dear me, said Gimblet, I
don't know why I thought he was rather by way
of being a connoisseur. Well, well, I mustn't waste any
more time. I wanted to ask you if you would
mind my going all over the house I may see
something suggestive. Who know? At present I have only examined

(16:02):
the library in your uncle's bedroom. By all means, said
Mark Blanston, will show you anything you want to see. Oh,
by the way, you like to be alone, don't you.
I was forgetting Well, go anywhere you like, and good
luck to your hunting. On a writing table in one
of the bedrooms, Gimblet found a paperweight in the bronze
shape of a Spanish torro head down tail, brandishing a

(16:24):
fine emblem of goaded rage. But there was nothing promising
about the round mahogany table on which it stood. No drawer,
secret or otherwise could all his measurings and tappings discovered.
The animal, when lifted up by the horn and dangled
before the detective's critical eye, proclaimed itself modern and of
no artistic merit. It was like a hundred others to

(16:46):
be had in any Spanish town, and by no expanding
of terms, could be considered a curiosity except for this
one more than doubtful find, he drew the whole house
absolutely blank. There were very few specimens of ancient work
in the castle, which, like so many other old houses,
had been stripped of everything interesting it contained in the
middle of the nineteenth century and entirely refurnished and redecorated

(17:10):
in the worst possible taste, with the exception of some
family portraits. The lacquered clock in the library was the
one genuine survival of the Victorian Holocaust, and though Gimblet
passed nearly half an hour in contemplating it, he could
not see any way of connecting it with a bull.
Nor was he a whit the wiser when he finally
turned his back on it than he had been at

(17:32):
the beginning end of Chapter fourteen. Read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho,
San Diego, California, Shaggy Bark dot blogspot dot com.