May 15, 2025 • 19 mins
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.
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Chapter fifteen 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. Recorded by Don W. Jenkins. The
(00:23):
Ashyl Mystery by Missus Charles Bryce, chapter fifteen. Blanston, to
whom he appealed, could give no useful information. Yes, some
of the plate was old, but that was all at
the bank in London. Missus Haviland, his Lordship's sister had
(00:44):
liked it on the table when his lordship entertained in
his London house, and it had not been carried backwards
and forwards to Scotland since her ladyship's death. He knew
of nothing resembling a bull in his Lordship's possession, unless
it was the picture of cow that hung in the
drawing room opposite the one of the dead stag. Gimblet
(01:04):
had already exhausted the possibilities of that highly varnished oil painting,
and he went forth from the house in a state
of deep dejection. As he descended the drive, he heard
his name called, and looking back, perceived the short, sturdy
figure of lady Ruth hurrying down the road behind him.
If you are going back to the cottage, mister Gimblet,
(01:26):
she panted, let us walk together. I ran after you
when I saw your hat go past the window, for
I couldn't stand those frousty old papers of marks any longer.
Gimblet waited till she came up, still talking, although considerably
out of breath. We will go by the road, if
you don't mind, she said. The look side is rather
(01:48):
rough for me. I have been paying a visit of charity,
and very hard work. It is paying visits in the
country when you don't keep a conveyance of any kind.
And I really can't afford even a donkey. You see,
the judge's income died with him, poor dear, in spite
of those foolish sayings about not being able to take
your money with you to the better land, where I
(02:08):
am sure one would want it just as much as
anywhere else. For the better life you lead, the more
expensive it is. No one could be generous or charitable
or unselfish with nothing to give up or to give away.
That's only common sense. And I always say that common
sense is such a help. And called upon to face
problems of a religious kind. My uncle was a bishop
(02:30):
and a very learned theologian, I assure you, but he
always held that it was impious to apply plain common
sense to matters so far above us, and that is
why he and my poor husband were never on speaking terms,
not from any fault of the judges who had been
trained to think about logic and all that kind of
thing which is so useful to people at the bar.
(02:52):
But it takes all sorts to make a world, and
he often used to say to himself, and if every
one is exactly alike, one would feel almost as as
if the whole earth was empty and void, while as
for virtues and good qualities, they would automatically cease to exist,
so that a really good man would simply long to
go to hell and have some opportunity to show his goodness.
(03:13):
That always seemed very reasonable to me. But I am
just telling you what my husband used to say, because
I really don't know much about these things. And he
was such a clever man, and what he said was
always listened to with great interest and respect at the
Old Bailey. If it hadn't been, of course, he would
have cleared the court. But as I was telling you
his money went with him, though I know he always
(03:36):
meant to insure his life, which is such a boring
thing to think of when a man has many calls
on his purse. And so I live, as you see,
in a very quiet way up here, and sometimes get
down to the south for a month or six weeks
in the winter, where I have many kind friends. But
I find the hills rather trying to my legs as
time goes on, and I don't very often walk as
(03:58):
far as I have to day. Still, charity, as they say,
covers a multitude of miles, and I really thought it
my duty to come and see how poor Mark was
bearing up all alone at Inverashield. I was afraid he
would be terribly unhappy, poor boy, so soon after the
funeral and Juliet Byrne having refused him and everything. Though
(04:18):
of course he can't be pitied for inheriting in Verashiel.
Such a lovely place, is it not, and quantities of
property in the coal district, you know, besides he is
really a very lucky young man. It is indeed a
most beautiful country. Gimblet observed as Lady Ruth's breath gave
out completely, and she stopped by the roadside to regain it.
(04:38):
He was deep in thought and glad to escape the
necessity of frequent speech. Yes, she said, as they moved
slowly on. I had a delightful walk here and found
him much more cheerful than I had feared. It is
such a good thing he has all those papers to
look over. It is everything at a time like this
to have an occupation. It is so dreadful to think
(04:59):
of dear day David with absolutely nothing to do in
that horrid cell. I wonder if they allow him to smoke,
or to keep a tame mouse, which I remember reading
is such a comfort to prisoners. I do hope, mister Gimblet,
that you will soon be able to get him out
of it. Before Gimblet could reply, the silence was broken
by the rumble of wheels, and a farmer's cart came
(05:19):
up behind them, driven by a thin man in a
black coat, who had evidently attended the funeral earlier in
the day. The road at the point they had reached
was beginning to ascend, and the stout pony between the
shafts slowed resolutely to a walk. As he leaned against
the collar the man lifted his hat as Lady Ruth
wished him good day. I saw you at the funeral,
(05:41):
Angus mc conaughhan, She said, A sad business, a terrible business,
and she shook her head mournfully. The farmer stopped the
willing pony. That it is, my leddy, he assented, it's
a black day. Indeed, when the heat of a clan
is struck doon by arrow, he's een bleed. It's a
great pity that the lad would have forgot what he
(06:01):
owed to his salt. But I'm thinkin they'll be hangin
him afore the year's oot. Oh, Angus cried Lady Ruth
in horrified tones. Don't talk in that dreadful way. I'm
quite quite sure Sir David never had any part in
the thing. It's all a mistake, an This gentleman here
is going to find out who really fired the shot. Well,
I hope you'll be wreached, my lady. Was all the
(06:24):
farmer would commit himself to as he gathered up the reins.
Then he hesitated, looking down on the hot flushed countenance
of the lady in the road beneath him. If your
ladyship will be takin a seat in the machine, he hazarded,
it'll maybe save you the trail up the bray. Lady
Ruth accepted the suggestion with great content. She was getting
(06:44):
very tired and was finding the walk more exhausting than
she had bargained for. She lost no time in climbing
up beside Angus, and the fat pony was induced to
continue its reluctant progress. Near the top of the hill,
the road forked into two branches, that which led to
the right, continuing parallel with the loch, whilst the other
diverged over the hill towards Akhtrimutty, a town some fifteen
(07:07):
miles distant. The stout pony unhesitatingly took the turning to
the left. The farmer looked at Lady Ruth, inquiringly, will
ye get done hear me? Lady, he asked, or will
ye drive on as far as the sheep fold. It
will be shorter for ye. They walk down fade there
by the burn in the green way. I would like
to do that, said Lady Ruth, if ye don't mind
(07:29):
taking me so far, Perhaps she would give mister Gimblet
a lift too. Now that we're on the top of
the hill, the man readily consented, and Gimblet, who was
following on foot, was called and informed of the proposed
change of route. He scrambled into the back of the
cart and they rattled along the upper road, the stout pony,
no doubt wearing a very aggrieved expression under its blinkers.
(07:50):
When another mile had been traversed, they were put down
at a place where a rough track led down across
the moor, by the side of an old stone sheepfold.
The cart jogged off to the sound of a chorus
of thanks, and Lady Ruth and Gimblet started down the
heather grown path. They rounded the corners of the deserted
fold and walked on into the golden mist of sunset,
which spread in front of them, enveloping and dazzling. The
(08:13):
clouds of the morning had rolled silently away to the horizon,
The wind had dropped to a mere capful, and the
midges were abroad in their hosts, rejoicing in the improvement
in the weather. I don't believe it's going to rain
after all, said Lady Ruth. The sun looks rather too red,
perhaps to be quite safe, though it is supposed to be.
The shepherd's delight I can only say that if he
(08:36):
was delighted with the result of some of the red
sunsets we get up here, he'd be easily pleased. And
for my part, I'm never surprised at anything. These midges
are past belief, aren't they they were, Gimblet agreed heartily.
He gathered a handful of fern and tried to keep
them at bay, but they were persevering and ubiquitous. Soon
the path led them away from the open moor and
(08:58):
into the wood of birches and young oak oaks which
clung to the side of the hill. A little farther,
and Gimblet heard the distant gurgling of a burn. Presently
they were picking their way between the moss covered boulders
on the edge of a rocky gully. Great tufts of
ferns dotted the steep pitch of the bank below. The
stream that clattered among the stones at the bottom shone
(09:18):
very cool and shadowy under the alders, and a clearing
on the other side revealed over the receding woods the
broken hilltops of a blue horizon. The path wound gradually
downward to the water side, and in a little while
they crossed it by means of a row of stepping stones,
over which Lady Ruth passed as boldly as her companion.
(09:38):
Another hundred yards of shade, and they came out into
a long, narrow glen, carpeted with short, springy turf, and
bordered as by an avenue with trees knee deep in bracken.
The rectangular shape and enclosed nature of the glade came
as a surprise in the midst of the wild woodlands.
The place had more the air of forming part of
pleasure grounds near to the haunts of men, and the
(10:00):
eye wandered instinctively in search of a house. The effect
of artificiality was increased by a large piece of statuary
representing a figure carved in stone and standing upon a high,
oblong pediment, which stood a little distance down the glen.
Gimblet did not repress his feeling of astonishment. What a
strange place, he exclaimed, Who should have expected to find
(10:22):
this lawn tucked away in the woods, Or is there
a house somewhere at hand? No, Lady Ruth answered, there
is nothing nearer than my cottage half a mile away,
and this short grass and flat piece of ground are
entirely natural. Nothing has been touched except here and there
a tree cut out to keep the borders straight. The
late lady Ashle, the wife of my unfortunate cousin, was
(10:44):
very fond of this place. Although it is farther, she
always walked round by it when she came to see
me at the cottage. That absurd statue was put up
last year as a sort of memorial to her, a
most unsuitable one to my mind. She being a chilly
sort of woman, poor dear, who always shivered. If she
saw so much as a hen molting. I'm sure it
would distress her terribly if she knew that poor creature
(11:07):
over there had to stand in the glen in all weathers,
year in and year out, with only a rag to
cover her, and a stone rag at that, which is
a cold material at the best. Yes, this is only
the beginning of a track which runs for miles across
the hills to the south. It is so green that
you can always make it out from the heights, and
there are all sorts of legends about it. It is
(11:29):
supposed to be the road over which the clans drove
back the cattle they captured in the old days, when
they were always rating each other. They have a name
for it in the Gaelic, which means the green way,
the green way, Gimblet repeated mechanically. For a moment, his
brain revolved in wild imaginings. Yes, repeated Lady Ruth. Sometimes
they call it the way for short. It is a
(11:51):
favorite place for picnics from Kreannan. My cousin used to
allow them to come here, and the place is generally
made hideous with egg shells and paper old bottles. One
of the gardeners comes and tidies things up once a
week in the summer. People are so absolutely without consciences.
Is there a bowl here? Cried Gimblet. He was quivering
(12:11):
with excitement. Goodness, gracious, I hope not, said Lady Ruth.
Do you see any cattle? I can't bear those long
horned highlanders? No, said Gimblet, I thought perhaps, But what
is the statue? The design surely is rather a strange
one for the place. Most extraordinary, assented Lady Ruth. He
(12:32):
got it in Italy and had it sent the whole
way by sea. It took all the king's horses and
all the king's men to get it up here, I
can tell you, And as I say nothing less apropos
can one possibly imagine that poor thin female with such
very scanty clothing is hardly a cheerful object on a
Scotch winter's day. And as for those little naked imps,
(12:52):
they would make anyone shiver even in August. They had
drawn near the sculptured group. It consisted of the slightly
draped figure of a girl bending over an open box
or casket, from which a crowd of small creatures, apparently,
as Lady Ruth had said, imps or fairies, were scrambling
and leaping forth. Gimblet gazed at it intently, as if
(13:13):
he had never seen a statue before. In a moment,
his face cleared, and he turned to Lady Ruth with
burning eyes. It is Pandora, he cried, curiosity, Pandora and
her box. Is it not Pandora? Lady Ruth stared at him, amazed.
I believe it is, she said that, or something of
the sort. I'm not very well up in mythology, of
(13:34):
course it is, cried Gimblet face curiosity. And here's the bull,
or I'll eat my microscope, he added, advancing to the
side of the group and laying a hand upon the pedestal.
Lady Ruth followed his gaze with some concern. She was
beginning to doubt his sanity. But there, sure enough, beneath
his pointing finger she perceived a row of carved heads,
(13:55):
the heads of bulls, garlanded in the Roman manner and
forming a kind of cornice round the top of the
great rectangular stone stand. Gimblet glanced to right and left,
up the glen and down it. There was no one
to be seen. The sun had fallen by this time.
Beneath the rim of the hills, a grayness of twilight
was spread over the whole scene, and under the trees,
(14:16):
the dusk of night was already silently ousting the day.
He turned once more to Lady Ruth. Lady Ruth, he said,
can you keep a secret? My husband trusted me. She replied,
he was judicious as well as judicial. I am sure
I may follow his example, Gimblet said, after looking at
her fixedly for a moment. So I will tell you
(14:37):
that I believe I am on the point of discovering
Lord Ashele's missing will, and not that alone somewhere concealed,
probably within a few feet of where we are standing,
we may hope to find other and far more important documents,
involving perhaps not only the welfare of one or two individuals,
but that of kings and nations Apart from that, and
(14:57):
to speak of what most immediately concerned us at present.
I am convinced that within this stone will be found
the true clue to the author of the murder. You
don't say so, gasped Lady Ruth, her round eyes rounder
than ever. I found some directions in the handwriting of
the murdered man, went on gimblet, which I could not
understand at first, but their meaning is plain enough. Now
(15:20):
take the bull by the horn, he said, Well, here
are the bulls, and I shall soon know which is
the horn. He walked round to the front of the
statue so that he faced the stooping figure of Pandora,
and laid his hand upon one of the curved and
projecting horns of the left hand bull. Nothing happened, and
he tried the next. There were seven heads in all
(15:40):
along the face of the great block, and he tested
six of them without perceiving anything unusual. Was it possible
that he was mistaken, and that, after all the words
of the message did not refer to the statue. When
he grasped the first horn of the last head, the
hand that did so was shaking with excitement and suspense.
It seemed like the rest to possess no attribute other
(16:02):
than mere decoration. And yet, and yet, surely he had
missed some vital point. He would go over them again.
There remained, however, the last horn. As he took hold
of it with a premonitory dread of disappointment, he felt
that it was loose in its socket, and that he
could buy an effort turn it completely over. With a
(16:22):
triumphant cry, he twisted it round, and at the same
moment Lady Ruth started back with an exclamation of alarm.
She was standing where he had left her, and was
nearly knocked down by the great slab of stone, which,
as Gimblet turned the horn of the bull, swung sharply
out from the end of the pediment, till it hung
like a door, invitingly open and disclosing a hollow chamber
(16:43):
within the stone. Within the opening, on the floor at
the far end stood a large tin despatch box. The
door was a good eighteen inches wide, plenty of room
for Gimblet to climb in. Swollen with exultation, though he
might be. In less than three seconds, he had scrambled
through the aperture and was stooping over the box. It
(17:04):
seemed to be locked, but a key lay on top
of the lid. He lost no time in inserting it,
and in a moment threw open the case and saw
that it was full of papers. Suddenly there was another
cry from Lady Ruth, as for no apparent cause, and
without the slightest warning, the stone door slammed itself back
into position, and he was left a prisoner in the
total darkness of the vault. He groped his way to
(17:25):
the doorway and pushed against it with all his strength.
He might as well have tried to move the side
of a mountain. But after an interval long enough for
him to have time to become seriously uneasy, the door
flew open again, and the agitated countenance of Lady Ruth
welcomed him to the outside world. Do get out, quick,
she cried. If it does it again while you're half
in and half out, you'll be cracked in two. As
(17:46):
neatly as a walnut, Gimblet hurried out, clutching the precious box.
No sooner was he safely standing on the turf, than
the door shut again with a violence that gave Pandora
the appearance of shaking with convulsions of silent merriment. I
wasn't sure how it opened, said Lady Ruth. But I
tried all the horns and got it right at last.
How lucky I was with you, Yes, indeed, said Gimblet,
(18:08):
I am very thankful you were. They twisted the horn
again and stood together to watch the recurring phenomenon of
the closing door. It must be worked by clockwork, the
detective said, and taking out his watch, he timed the
interval that elapsed between the opening and shutting. It stays
open for thirty seconds, he remarked. After two or three experiments,
no doubt the mechanism is concealed in the thickness of
(18:31):
the stone. At all events, it seems to be in
good working order. Squatting on the grass, he opened the
tin box and examined the papers with which it was filled.
A glance showed him that they were what he expected,
and he replaced the box where he had found it.
While Lady Ruth manipulated the horn of the bull. I
have no right to the papers, he explained to her
as they walked homeward in the gathering dusk. It would
(18:52):
be more satisfactory if a magistrate were present at the
official opening of the statue, and I will see what
can be done about that tomorrow. In the meantime, and
considering that we have been interfering with other people's property,
I shall be much obliged if you will keep our
discovery secret. And talking in low, earnest tones, he explained
to her more fully all that was likely to be
implied by the papers they had unearthed. End of chapter fifteen,
(19:19):
read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho, San Diego, California, Shaggy
Bark dot blogspot dot com.
Chapter fifteen 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. Recorded by Don W. Jenkins. The
(00:23):
Ashyl Mystery by Missus Charles Bryce, chapter fifteen. Blanston, to
whom he appealed, could give no useful information. Yes, some
of the plate was old, but that was all at
the bank in London. Missus Haviland, his Lordship's sister had
(00:44):
liked it on the table when his lordship entertained in
his London house, and it had not been carried backwards
and forwards to Scotland since her ladyship's death. He knew
of nothing resembling a bull in his Lordship's possession, unless
it was the picture of cow that hung in the
drawing room opposite the one of the dead stag. Gimblet
(01:04):
had already exhausted the possibilities of that highly varnished oil painting,
and he went forth from the house in a state
of deep dejection. As he descended the drive, he heard
his name called, and looking back, perceived the short, sturdy
figure of lady Ruth hurrying down the road behind him.
If you are going back to the cottage, mister Gimblet,
(01:26):
she panted, let us walk together. I ran after you
when I saw your hat go past the window, for
I couldn't stand those frousty old papers of marks any longer.
Gimblet waited till she came up, still talking, although considerably
out of breath. We will go by the road, if
you don't mind, she said. The look side is rather
(01:48):
rough for me. I have been paying a visit of charity,
and very hard work. It is paying visits in the
country when you don't keep a conveyance of any kind.
And I really can't afford even a donkey. You see,
the judge's income died with him, poor dear, in spite
of those foolish sayings about not being able to take
your money with you to the better land, where I
(02:08):
am sure one would want it just as much as
anywhere else. For the better life you lead, the more
expensive it is. No one could be generous or charitable
or unselfish with nothing to give up or to give away.
That's only common sense. And I always say that common
sense is such a help. And called upon to face
problems of a religious kind. My uncle was a bishop
(02:30):
and a very learned theologian, I assure you, but he
always held that it was impious to apply plain common
sense to matters so far above us, and that is
why he and my poor husband were never on speaking terms,
not from any fault of the judges who had been
trained to think about logic and all that kind of
thing which is so useful to people at the bar.
(02:52):
But it takes all sorts to make a world, and
he often used to say to himself, and if every
one is exactly alike, one would feel almost as as
if the whole earth was empty and void, while as
for virtues and good qualities, they would automatically cease to exist,
so that a really good man would simply long to
go to hell and have some opportunity to show his goodness.
(03:13):
That always seemed very reasonable to me. But I am
just telling you what my husband used to say, because
I really don't know much about these things. And he
was such a clever man, and what he said was
always listened to with great interest and respect at the
Old Bailey. If it hadn't been, of course, he would
have cleared the court. But as I was telling you
his money went with him, though I know he always
(03:36):
meant to insure his life, which is such a boring
thing to think of when a man has many calls
on his purse. And so I live, as you see,
in a very quiet way up here, and sometimes get
down to the south for a month or six weeks
in the winter, where I have many kind friends. But
I find the hills rather trying to my legs as
time goes on, and I don't very often walk as
(03:58):
far as I have to day. Still, charity, as they say,
covers a multitude of miles, and I really thought it
my duty to come and see how poor Mark was
bearing up all alone at Inverashield. I was afraid he
would be terribly unhappy, poor boy, so soon after the
funeral and Juliet Byrne having refused him and everything. Though
(04:18):
of course he can't be pitied for inheriting in Verashiel.
Such a lovely place, is it not, and quantities of
property in the coal district, you know, besides he is
really a very lucky young man. It is indeed a
most beautiful country. Gimblet observed as Lady Ruth's breath gave
out completely, and she stopped by the roadside to regain it.
(04:38):
He was deep in thought and glad to escape the
necessity of frequent speech. Yes, she said, as they moved
slowly on. I had a delightful walk here and found
him much more cheerful than I had feared. It is
such a good thing he has all those papers to
look over. It is everything at a time like this
to have an occupation. It is so dreadful to think
(04:59):
of dear day David with absolutely nothing to do in
that horrid cell. I wonder if they allow him to smoke,
or to keep a tame mouse, which I remember reading
is such a comfort to prisoners. I do hope, mister Gimblet,
that you will soon be able to get him out
of it. Before Gimblet could reply, the silence was broken
by the rumble of wheels, and a farmer's cart came
(05:19):
up behind them, driven by a thin man in a
black coat, who had evidently attended the funeral earlier in
the day. The road at the point they had reached
was beginning to ascend, and the stout pony between the
shafts slowed resolutely to a walk. As he leaned against
the collar the man lifted his hat as Lady Ruth
wished him good day. I saw you at the funeral,
(05:41):
Angus mc conaughhan, She said, A sad business, a terrible business,
and she shook her head mournfully. The farmer stopped the
willing pony. That it is, my leddy, he assented, it's
a black day. Indeed, when the heat of a clan
is struck doon by arrow, he's een bleed. It's a
great pity that the lad would have forgot what he
(06:01):
owed to his salt. But I'm thinkin they'll be hangin
him afore the year's oot. Oh, Angus cried Lady Ruth
in horrified tones. Don't talk in that dreadful way. I'm
quite quite sure Sir David never had any part in
the thing. It's all a mistake, an This gentleman here
is going to find out who really fired the shot. Well,
I hope you'll be wreached, my lady. Was all the
(06:24):
farmer would commit himself to as he gathered up the reins.
Then he hesitated, looking down on the hot flushed countenance
of the lady in the road beneath him. If your
ladyship will be takin a seat in the machine, he hazarded,
it'll maybe save you the trail up the bray. Lady
Ruth accepted the suggestion with great content. She was getting
(06:44):
very tired and was finding the walk more exhausting than
she had bargained for. She lost no time in climbing
up beside Angus, and the fat pony was induced to
continue its reluctant progress. Near the top of the hill,
the road forked into two branches, that which led to
the right, continuing parallel with the loch, whilst the other
diverged over the hill towards Akhtrimutty, a town some fifteen
(07:07):
miles distant. The stout pony unhesitatingly took the turning to
the left. The farmer looked at Lady Ruth, inquiringly, will
ye get done hear me? Lady, he asked, or will
ye drive on as far as the sheep fold. It
will be shorter for ye. They walk down fade there
by the burn in the green way. I would like
to do that, said Lady Ruth, if ye don't mind
(07:29):
taking me so far, Perhaps she would give mister Gimblet
a lift too. Now that we're on the top of
the hill, the man readily consented, and Gimblet, who was
following on foot, was called and informed of the proposed
change of route. He scrambled into the back of the
cart and they rattled along the upper road, the stout pony,
no doubt wearing a very aggrieved expression under its blinkers.
(07:50):
When another mile had been traversed, they were put down
at a place where a rough track led down across
the moor, by the side of an old stone sheepfold.
The cart jogged off to the sound of a chorus
of thanks, and Lady Ruth and Gimblet started down the
heather grown path. They rounded the corners of the deserted
fold and walked on into the golden mist of sunset,
which spread in front of them, enveloping and dazzling. The
(08:13):
clouds of the morning had rolled silently away to the horizon,
The wind had dropped to a mere capful, and the
midges were abroad in their hosts, rejoicing in the improvement
in the weather. I don't believe it's going to rain
after all, said Lady Ruth. The sun looks rather too red,
perhaps to be quite safe, though it is supposed to be.
The shepherd's delight I can only say that if he
(08:36):
was delighted with the result of some of the red
sunsets we get up here, he'd be easily pleased. And
for my part, I'm never surprised at anything. These midges
are past belief, aren't they they were, Gimblet agreed heartily.
He gathered a handful of fern and tried to keep
them at bay, but they were persevering and ubiquitous. Soon
the path led them away from the open moor and
(08:58):
into the wood of birches and young oak oaks which
clung to the side of the hill. A little farther,
and Gimblet heard the distant gurgling of a burn. Presently
they were picking their way between the moss covered boulders
on the edge of a rocky gully. Great tufts of
ferns dotted the steep pitch of the bank below. The
stream that clattered among the stones at the bottom shone
(09:18):
very cool and shadowy under the alders, and a clearing
on the other side revealed over the receding woods the
broken hilltops of a blue horizon. The path wound gradually
downward to the water side, and in a little while
they crossed it by means of a row of stepping stones,
over which Lady Ruth passed as boldly as her companion.
(09:38):
Another hundred yards of shade, and they came out into
a long, narrow glen, carpeted with short, springy turf, and
bordered as by an avenue with trees knee deep in bracken.
The rectangular shape and enclosed nature of the glade came
as a surprise in the midst of the wild woodlands.
The place had more the air of forming part of
pleasure grounds near to the haunts of men, and the
(10:00):
eye wandered instinctively in search of a house. The effect
of artificiality was increased by a large piece of statuary
representing a figure carved in stone and standing upon a high,
oblong pediment, which stood a little distance down the glen.
Gimblet did not repress his feeling of astonishment. What a
strange place, he exclaimed, Who should have expected to find
(10:22):
this lawn tucked away in the woods, Or is there
a house somewhere at hand? No, Lady Ruth answered, there
is nothing nearer than my cottage half a mile away,
and this short grass and flat piece of ground are
entirely natural. Nothing has been touched except here and there
a tree cut out to keep the borders straight. The
late lady Ashle, the wife of my unfortunate cousin, was
(10:44):
very fond of this place. Although it is farther, she
always walked round by it when she came to see
me at the cottage. That absurd statue was put up
last year as a sort of memorial to her, a
most unsuitable one to my mind. She being a chilly
sort of woman, poor dear, who always shivered. If she
saw so much as a hen molting. I'm sure it
would distress her terribly if she knew that poor creature
(11:07):
over there had to stand in the glen in all weathers,
year in and year out, with only a rag to
cover her, and a stone rag at that, which is
a cold material at the best. Yes, this is only
the beginning of a track which runs for miles across
the hills to the south. It is so green that
you can always make it out from the heights, and
there are all sorts of legends about it. It is
(11:29):
supposed to be the road over which the clans drove
back the cattle they captured in the old days, when
they were always rating each other. They have a name
for it in the Gaelic, which means the green way,
the green way, Gimblet repeated mechanically. For a moment, his
brain revolved in wild imaginings. Yes, repeated Lady Ruth. Sometimes
they call it the way for short. It is a
(11:51):
favorite place for picnics from Kreannan. My cousin used to
allow them to come here, and the place is generally
made hideous with egg shells and paper old bottles. One
of the gardeners comes and tidies things up once a
week in the summer. People are so absolutely without consciences.
Is there a bowl here? Cried Gimblet. He was quivering
(12:11):
with excitement. Goodness, gracious, I hope not, said Lady Ruth.
Do you see any cattle? I can't bear those long
horned highlanders? No, said Gimblet, I thought perhaps, But what
is the statue? The design surely is rather a strange
one for the place. Most extraordinary, assented Lady Ruth. He
(12:32):
got it in Italy and had it sent the whole
way by sea. It took all the king's horses and
all the king's men to get it up here, I
can tell you, And as I say nothing less apropos
can one possibly imagine that poor thin female with such
very scanty clothing is hardly a cheerful object on a
Scotch winter's day. And as for those little naked imps,
(12:52):
they would make anyone shiver even in August. They had
drawn near the sculptured group. It consisted of the slightly
draped figure of a girl bending over an open box
or casket, from which a crowd of small creatures, apparently,
as Lady Ruth had said, imps or fairies, were scrambling
and leaping forth. Gimblet gazed at it intently, as if
(13:13):
he had never seen a statue before. In a moment,
his face cleared, and he turned to Lady Ruth with
burning eyes. It is Pandora, he cried, curiosity, Pandora and
her box. Is it not Pandora? Lady Ruth stared at him, amazed.
I believe it is, she said that, or something of
the sort. I'm not very well up in mythology, of
(13:34):
course it is, cried Gimblet face curiosity. And here's the bull,
or I'll eat my microscope, he added, advancing to the
side of the group and laying a hand upon the pedestal.
Lady Ruth followed his gaze with some concern. She was
beginning to doubt his sanity. But there, sure enough, beneath
his pointing finger she perceived a row of carved heads,
(13:55):
the heads of bulls, garlanded in the Roman manner and
forming a kind of cornice round the top of the
great rectangular stone stand. Gimblet glanced to right and left,
up the glen and down it. There was no one
to be seen. The sun had fallen by this time.
Beneath the rim of the hills, a grayness of twilight
was spread over the whole scene, and under the trees,
(14:16):
the dusk of night was already silently ousting the day.
He turned once more to Lady Ruth. Lady Ruth, he said,
can you keep a secret? My husband trusted me. She replied,
he was judicious as well as judicial. I am sure
I may follow his example, Gimblet said, after looking at
her fixedly for a moment. So I will tell you
(14:37):
that I believe I am on the point of discovering
Lord Ashele's missing will, and not that alone somewhere concealed,
probably within a few feet of where we are standing,
we may hope to find other and far more important documents,
involving perhaps not only the welfare of one or two individuals,
but that of kings and nations Apart from that, and
(14:57):
to speak of what most immediately concerned us at present.
I am convinced that within this stone will be found
the true clue to the author of the murder. You
don't say so, gasped Lady Ruth, her round eyes rounder
than ever. I found some directions in the handwriting of
the murdered man, went on gimblet, which I could not
understand at first, but their meaning is plain enough. Now
(15:20):
take the bull by the horn, he said, Well, here
are the bulls, and I shall soon know which is
the horn. He walked round to the front of the
statue so that he faced the stooping figure of Pandora,
and laid his hand upon one of the curved and
projecting horns of the left hand bull. Nothing happened, and
he tried the next. There were seven heads in all
(15:40):
along the face of the great block, and he tested
six of them without perceiving anything unusual. Was it possible
that he was mistaken, and that, after all the words
of the message did not refer to the statue. When
he grasped the first horn of the last head, the
hand that did so was shaking with excitement and suspense.
It seemed like the rest to possess no attribute other
(16:02):
than mere decoration. And yet, and yet, surely he had
missed some vital point. He would go over them again.
There remained, however, the last horn. As he took hold
of it with a premonitory dread of disappointment, he felt
that it was loose in its socket, and that he
could buy an effort turn it completely over. With a
(16:22):
triumphant cry, he twisted it round, and at the same
moment Lady Ruth started back with an exclamation of alarm.
She was standing where he had left her, and was
nearly knocked down by the great slab of stone, which,
as Gimblet turned the horn of the bull, swung sharply
out from the end of the pediment, till it hung
like a door, invitingly open and disclosing a hollow chamber
(16:43):
within the stone. Within the opening, on the floor at
the far end stood a large tin despatch box. The
door was a good eighteen inches wide, plenty of room
for Gimblet to climb in. Swollen with exultation, though he
might be. In less than three seconds, he had scrambled
through the aperture and was stooping over the box. It
(17:04):
seemed to be locked, but a key lay on top
of the lid. He lost no time in inserting it,
and in a moment threw open the case and saw
that it was full of papers. Suddenly there was another
cry from Lady Ruth, as for no apparent cause, and
without the slightest warning, the stone door slammed itself back
into position, and he was left a prisoner in the
total darkness of the vault. He groped his way to
(17:25):
the doorway and pushed against it with all his strength.
He might as well have tried to move the side
of a mountain. But after an interval long enough for
him to have time to become seriously uneasy, the door
flew open again, and the agitated countenance of Lady Ruth
welcomed him to the outside world. Do get out, quick,
she cried. If it does it again while you're half
in and half out, you'll be cracked in two. As
(17:46):
neatly as a walnut, Gimblet hurried out, clutching the precious box.
No sooner was he safely standing on the turf, than
the door shut again with a violence that gave Pandora
the appearance of shaking with convulsions of silent merriment. I
wasn't sure how it opened, said Lady Ruth. But I
tried all the horns and got it right at last.
How lucky I was with you, Yes, indeed, said Gimblet,
(18:08):
I am very thankful you were. They twisted the horn
again and stood together to watch the recurring phenomenon of
the closing door. It must be worked by clockwork, the
detective said, and taking out his watch, he timed the
interval that elapsed between the opening and shutting. It stays
open for thirty seconds, he remarked. After two or three experiments,
no doubt the mechanism is concealed in the thickness of
(18:31):
the stone. At all events, it seems to be in
good working order. Squatting on the grass, he opened the
tin box and examined the papers with which it was filled.
A glance showed him that they were what he expected,
and he replaced the box where he had found it.
While Lady Ruth manipulated the horn of the bull. I
have no right to the papers, he explained to her
as they walked homeward in the gathering dusk. It would
(18:52):
be more satisfactory if a magistrate were present at the
official opening of the statue, and I will see what
can be done about that tomorrow. In the meantime, and
considering that we have been interfering with other people's property,
I shall be much obliged if you will keep our
discovery secret. And talking in low, earnest tones, he explained
to her more fully all that was likely to be
implied by the papers they had unearthed. End of chapter fifteen,
(19:19):
read by Don W. Jenkins, Rancho, San Diego, California, Shaggy
Bark dot blogspot dot com.
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