Dead Men's Money

  CHAPTER IV

  THE MURDERED MAN

  There may be folk in the world to whom the finding of a dead man, lyinggrim and stark by the roadside, with the blood freshly run from it andmaking ugly patches of crimson on the grass and the gravel, would be anordinary thing; but to me that had never seen blood let in violence,except in such matters as a bout of fisticuffs at school, it was thebiggest thing that had ever happened, and I stood staring down at thewhite face as if I should never look at anything else as long as I lived.I remember all about that scene and that moment as freshly now as if theaffair had happened last night. The dead man lying in the crushedgrass--his arms thrown out helplessly on either side of him--the gloom ofthe trees all around--the murmuring of the waters, where Till was pouringits sluggish flood into the more active swirl and rush of the Tweed--thehot, oppressive air of the night--and the blood on the dry road--all thatwas what, at Mr. Gilverthwaite's bidding, I had ridden out from Berwickto find in that lonely spot.

  But I knew, of course, that James Gilverthwaite himself had not foreseenthis affair, nor thought that I should find a murdered man. And as I atlast drew breath, and lifted myself up a little from staring at thecorpse, a great many thoughts rushed into my head, and began to tumbleabout over each other. Was this the man Mr. Gilverthwaite meant me tomeet? Would Mr. Gilverthwaite have been murdered, too, if he had comethere in person? And had the man been murdered for the sake of robbery?But I answered that last question as soon as I asked it, and in thenegative, for the light of my lamp showed a fine, heavy gold watch-chainfestooned across the man's waistcoat--if murderously inclined thieves hadbeen at him, they were not like to have left that. Then I wondered if Ihad disturbed the murderers--it was fixed in me from the beginning thatthere must have been more than one in at this dreadful game--and if theywere still lurking about and watching me from the brushwood; and I madean effort, and bent down and touched one of the nerveless hands. It wasstiffened already, and I knew then that the man had been dead some time.

  And I knew another thing in that moment: poor Maisie, lying awake tolisten for the tap at her window, so that she might get up and peep roundthe corner of her blind to assure herself that her Hughie was alive andsafe, would have to lie quaking and speculating through the dark hours ofthat night, for here was work that was going to keep me busied till daybroke. I set to it there and then, leaving the man just as I had foundhim, and hastening back in the direction of the main road. As luck wouldhave it, I heard voices of men on Twizel Bridge, and ran right on thelocal police-sergeant and a constable, who had met there in the course oftheir night rounds. I knew them both, the sergeant being one Chisholm,and the constable a man named Turndale, and they knew me well enough fromhaving seen me in the court at Berwick; and it was with open-mouthedsurprise that they listened to what I had to tell them. Presently we wereall three round the dead man, and this time there was the light of threelamps on his face and on the gouts of blood that were all about him, andChisholm clicked his tongue sharply at what he saw.

  "Here's a sore sight for honest folk!" he said in a low voice, as he bentdown and touched one of the hands. "Aye, and he's been dead a good hour,I should say, by the feel of him! You heard nothing as you came down yonlane, Mr. Hugh?"

  "Not a sound!" I answered.

  "And saw nothing?" he questioned.

  "Nothing and nobody!" I said.

  "Well," said he, "we'll have to get him away from this. You'll have toget help," he went on, turning to the constable. "Fetch some men to helpus carry him. He'll have to be taken to the nearest inn for theinquest--that's how the law is. I wasn't going to ask it while yon manwas about, Mr. Hugh," he continued, when Turndale had gone hurryingtowards the village; "but you'll not mind me asking it now--what were youdoing here yourself, at this hour?"

  "You've a good right, Chisholm," said I; "and I'll tell you, for by all Ican see, there'll be no way of keeping it back, and it's no concern ofmine to keep it back, and I don't care who knows all about it--not me!The truth is, we've a lodger at our house, one Mr. James Gilverthwaite,that's a mysterious sort of man, and he's at present in his bed with achill or something that's like to keep him there; and tonight he got meto ride out here to meet a man whom he ought to have met himself--andthat's why I'm here and all that I have to do with it."

  "You don't mean to say that--that!" he exclaimed, jerking his thumb atthe dead man; "that--that's the man you were to meet?"

  "Who else?" said I. "Can you think of any other that it would be? And I'mwondering if whoever killed this fellow, whoever he may be, wouldn't havekilled Mr. Gilverthwaite, too, if he'd come? This is no by-chance murder,Chisholm, as you'll be finding out."

  "Well, well, I never knew its like!" he remarked, staring from me to thebody, and from it to me. "You saw nobody about close by--nor in theneighbourhood--no strangers on the road?"

  I was ready for that question. Ever since finding the body, I had beenwondering what I should say when authority, either in the shape of acoroner or a policeman, asked me about my own adventures that night. Tobe sure, I had seen a stranger, and I had observed that he had lost acouple of fingers, the first and second, of his right hand; and it wascertainly a queer thing that he should be in that immediate neighbourhoodabout the time when this unfortunate man met his death. But it had beenborne in on my mind pretty strongly that the man I had seen looking athis map was some gentleman-tourist who was walking the district, and hadas like as not been tramping it over Plodden Field and that historiccorner of the country, and had become benighted ere he could reachwherever his headquarters were. And I was not going to bring suspicion onwhat was in all probability an innocent stranger, so I answeredChisholm's question as I meant to answer any similar one--unless, indeed,I had reason to alter my mind.

  "I saw nobody and heard nothing--about here," said I. "It's not likelythere'd be strangers in this spot at midnight."

  "For that matter, the poor fellow is a stranger himself," said he, oncemore turning his lamp on the dead face. "Anyway, he's not known to me,and I've been in these parts twenty years. And altogether it's a finemystery you've hit on, Mr. Hugh, and there'll be strange doings beforewe're at the bottom of it, I'm thinking."

  That there was mystery in this affair was surer than ever when, havinggot the man to the nearest inn, and brought more help, including adoctor, they began to examine him and his clothing. And now that I sawhim in a stronger light, I found that he was a strongly built, well-mademan of about Mr. Gilverthwaite's age--say, just over sixty years orso,--dressed in a gentlemanlike fashion, and wearing good boots and linenand a tweed suit of the sort affected by tourists. There was a good dealof money in his pockets--bank-notes, gold, and silver--and an expensivewatch and chain, and other such things that a gentleman would carry; andit seemed very evident that robbery had not been the motive of themurderers. But of papers that could identify the man there wasnothing--in the shape of paper or its like there was not one scrap in allthe clothing, except the return half of a railway ticket between Peeblesand Coldstream, and a bit of a torn bill-head giving the name and addressof a tradesman in Dundee.

  "There's something to go on, anyway," remarked Chisholm, as he carefullyput these things aside after pointing out to us that the ticket wasdated on what was now the previous day (for it was already well pastmidnight, and the time was creeping on to morning), and that the deadman must accordingly have come to Coldstream not many hours before hisdeath; "and we'll likely find something about him from either Dundee orPeebles. But I'm inclined to think, Mr. Hugh," he continued, drawing measide, "that even though they didn't rob the man of his money andvaluables, they took something else from him that may have been of muchmore value than either."

  "What?" I asked.

  "Papers!" said he. "Look at the general appearance of the man! He's nocommon or ordinary sort. Is it likely, now, such a man would be withoutletters and that sort of thing in his pockets? Like as not he'd carry hispocket-book, and it may have been this pocket-book with what was in itthey were aft
er, and not troubling about his purse at all."

  "They made sure of him, anyway," said I, and went out of the room wherethey had laid the body, not caring to stay longer. For I had heard whatthe doctor said--that the man had been killed on the spot by a singleblow from a knife or dagger which had been thrust into his heart frombehind with tremendous force, and the thought of it was sickening me."What are you going to do now?" I asked of Chisholm, who had followed me."And do you want me any more, sergeant?--for, if not, I'm anxious to getback to Berwick."

  "That's just where I'm coming with you," he answered. "I've my bicycleclose by, and we'll ride into the town together at once. For, do you see,Mr. Hugh, there's just one man hereabouts that can give us some light onthis affair straightaway--if he will--and that the lodger you weretelling me of. And I must get in and see the superintendent, and we mustget speech with this Mr. Gilverthwaite of yours--for, if he knows nomore, he'll know who yon man is!"

  I made no answer to that. I had no certain answer to make. I was alreadywondering about a lot of conjectures. Would Mr. Gilverthwaite know whothe man was? Was he the man I ought to have met? Or had that man beenthere, witnessed the murder, and gone away, frightened to stop where themurder had been done? Or--yet again--was this some man who had come uponMr. Gilverthwaite's correspondent, and, for some reason, been murderedby him? It was, however, all beyond me just then, and presently thesergeant and I were on our machines and making for Berwick. But we hadnot been set out half an hour, and were only just where we could seethe town's lights before us in the night, when two folk came ridingbicycles through the mist that lay thick in a dip of the road, and,calling to me, let me know that they were Maisie Dunlop and her brotherTom that she had made to come with her, and in another minute Maisie andI were whispering together.

  "It's all right now that I know you're safe, Hugh," she saidbreathlessly. "But you must get back with me quickly. Yon lodger of yoursis dead, and your mother in a fine way, wondering where you are!"