Free Murder of a Lady by Anthony Wynne Page B

self-confidence. The man had put all his trust in cleverness and thoroughness and when these failed, had nothing to fall back on.
    â€œPerhaps you would like me to give you an account of what I’ve done,” Dundas said. “A few facts have emerged.”
    He spoke wearily, without enthusiasm. Dr. Hailey shook his head.
    â€œI should prefer to ask you questions.”
    â€œVery well.”
    The doctor rose and pulled off his coat; before he sat down again he glanced out at the sea, white under the full moon. The exquisite clearness of the north had returned with the falling of night, and the long rampart of Cowal lay like the back of some monstrous creature rearing itself up out of the shining water. He listened to the soft babbling of the burn at his feet, in which chuckles and gurgles were mingled deliciously. The drought had tamed this fierce stream till only its laughter remained. He followed its course round the house to the loch, marking where its water became transformed to silver. The sails of fishing-boats stained the silver here and there and he saw that several of the boats were lying close in shore, at the mouth of the burn. The sound of the fishermen’s voices came softly on the still air. He turned to his companions:
    â€œThey seem to have shot a net out here.”
    Dr. McDonald looked out and turned indifferently away.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI had no idea they fished so close inshore.”
    â€œOh, yes. The shoals of herring tend to come into the shallow water at night to feed. Ardmore has lived on that fact for more than a century. Lived well too. In the best days they used to get £2 or £3 a box and might take 200 boxes at one shot of the net. But not now. The old Loch Fyne herring that the whole country knew and enjoyed seems to have ceased to exist. It was blue and flat; the modern variety is much paler and much rounder.”
    â€œSo that Ardmore has fallen on bad days?”
    â€œYes. And with Ardmore, Duchlan and his family. It isn’t easy to pay rent if you’re making no money.”
    â€œHas the depression produced any reactions?”
    â€œReactions?”
    â€œHard times tend to separate honest from dishonest men.”
    A faint smile flickered on Dundas’s lips.
    â€œYou’re thinking of the possibility that one of those fishermen may have climbed in here?” he asked. “That idea was in my own mind. But I feel sure now that there’s nothing in it. Nobody could climb these walls.”
    Dr. Hailey sat down. He polished his eyeglass and put it in his eye.
    â€œI’m afraid I wasn’t only thinking of that,” he confessed. “Boats, especially fishing-boats, have always attracted me. It used to be one of my boyish ambitions to spend a night with the herring fleet.” He leaned forward. “McDonald told me that you observed the scar on Miss Gregor’s chest.”
    â€œYes. I tried to work on that clue but I got nothing. Nobody here knows anything about it.”
    â€œIsn’t that rather strange?”
    â€œVery strange. But truth to tell, doctor, the people here are impossible. They know nothing about anything. When I said to Duchlan that nobody could hide an injury of that sort, he met me with a shrug of his shoulders. What are you to do? The scar is very old. It may date back twenty years.”
    â€œYes. But it represents what was once a severe wound. Long ago, somebody tried to kill Miss Gregor. Since I formed that opinion I’ve been trying to get information about the lady. I’ve made a discovery.”
    â€œYes?” The detective’s voice rang out sharply.
    â€œEverybody seems to believe that she was a saint and nobody seems to know much about her.”
    â€œMy dear sir,” Dr. McDonald interrupted, “I knew her well. The whole neighbourhood knew her well.”
    â€œAs a figure, yes. Not as a woman.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œWho were her