The Disentanglers Part 41

'Why, don't you see--oh, it is too good--he has taken every kind of precaution to establish his sanity when he made his will.'

'He told me that he had got expert evidence,' said Merton.

'And then he comes and consults US!' said Logan, with a crow of laughter.

'If any fellow wants to break the will on the score of insanity, and knows, knows he came to us, a jury, when they find he consulted us, will jolly well upset the cart.' Merton was hurt.

'Logan,' he said, 'it is you who ought to be in an asylum, an Asylum for Incurable Children. Don't you see that he made the will long _before_ he took the very natural and proper step of consulting Messrs. Gray and Graham?'

'Let us pray that, if there is a suit, it won't come before a Scotch jury,' said Logan. 'Anyhow, n.o.body knows that he came except you and me.'

'And the office boy,' said Merton.

'Oh, we'll square the office boy,' said Logan. 'Let's lunch!'

They lunched, and Logan, as was natural, though Merton urged him to abstain, hung about the doors of Madame Claudine's emporium at the hour when the young ladies returned to their homes. He walked home with Miss Markham. He told her about his chances, and his views, and no doubt she did not think him a person of schoolboy ideas, but a Bayard.

Two days pa.s.sed, and in the afternoon of the third a telegram arrived for Logan from Kirkburn.

'_Come at once_, _Marquis very ill. Dr. Douglas_, _Kirkburn_.'

There was no express train North till 8.45 in the evening. Merton dined with Logan at King's Cross, and saw him off. He would reach his cousin's house at about six in the morning if the train kept time.

About nine o'clock on the morning following Logan's arrival at Kirkburn Merton was awakened: the servant handed to him a telegram.

'_Come instantly. Highly important. Logan_, _Kirkburn_.'

Merton dressed himself more rapidly than he had ever done, and caught the train leaving King's Cross at 10 a.m.

II. The Emu's Feathers

The landscape through which Merton pa.s.sed on his northward way to Kirkburn, whither Logan had summoned him, was blank with snow. The snow was not more than a couple of inches deep where it had not drifted, and, as frost had set in, it was not likely to deepen. There was no fear of being snowed up.

Merton naturally pa.s.sed a good deal of his time in wondering what had occurred at Kirkburn, and why Logan needed his presence. 'The poor old gentleman has pa.s.sed away suddenly, I suppose,' he reflected, 'and Logan may think that I know where he has deposited his will. It is in some place that the marquis called "the hidie hole," and that, from his vagrant remarks, appears to be a secret chamber, as his ancestor meant to keep James VI. there. I wish he had cut the throat of that prince, a bad fellow. But, of course, I don't know where the chamber is: probably some of the people about the place know, or the lawyer who made the will.'

However freely Merton's consciousness might play round the problem, he could get no nearer to its solution. At Berwick he had to leave the express, and take a local train. In the station, not a nice station, he was accosted by a stranger, who asked if he was Mr. Merton? The stranger, a wholesome, red-faced, black-haired man, on being answered in the affirmative, introduced himself as Dr. Douglas, of Kirkburn. 'You telegraphed to my friend Logan the news of the marquis's illness,' said Merton. 'I fear you have no better news to give me.'

Dr. Douglas shook his head.

A curious little crowd was watching the pair from a short distance. There was an air of solemnity about the people, which was not wholly due to the chill grey late afternoon, and the melancholy sea.

'We have an hour to wait, Mr. Merton, before the local train starts, and afterwards there is a bit of a drive. It is cold, we would be as well in the inn as here.'

The doctor beat his gloved hands together to restore the circulation.

Merton saw that the doctor wished to be with him in private, and the two walked down into the town, where they got a comfortable room, the doctor ordering boiling water and the other elements of what he called 'a cheerer.' When the cups which cheer had been brought, and the men were alone, the doctor said:

'It is as you suppose, Mr. Merton, but worse.'

'Great heaven, no accident has happened to Logan?' asked Merton.

'No, sir, and he would have met you himself at Berwick, but he is engaged in making inquiries and taking precautions at Kirkburn.'

'You do not mean that there is any reason to suspect foul play? The marquis, I know, was in bad health. You do not suspect--murder?'

'No, sir, but--the marquis is gone.'

'I _know_ he is gone, your telegram and what I observed of his health led me to fear the worst.'

'But his body is gone--vanished.'

'You suppose that it has been stolen (you know the American and other cases of the same kind) for the purpose of extracting money from the heir?'

'That is the obvious view, whoever the heir may be. So far, no will has been found,' the doctor added some sugar to his cheerer, and some whisky to correct the sugar. 'The neighbourhood is very much excited. Mr.

Logan has telegraphed to London for detectives.'

Merton reflected in silence.

'The obvious view is not always the correct one,' he said. 'The marquis was, at least I thought that he was, a very eccentric person.'

'No doubt about _that_,' said the doctor.

'Very well. He had reasons, such reasons as might occur to a mind like his, for wanting to test the character and conduct of Mr. Logan, his only living kinsman. What I am going to say will seem absurd to you, but--the marquis spoke to me of his malady as a kind of "dwawming," I did not know what he meant, at the time, but yesterday I consulted the glossary of a Scotch novel: to _dwawm_, I think, is to lose consciousness?'

The doctor nodded.

'Now you have read,' said Merton, 'the case published by Dr. Cheyne, of a gentleman, Colonel Townsend, who could voluntarily produce a state of "dwawm" which was not then to be distinguished from death?'

'I have read it in the notes to Aytoun's _Scottish Cavaliers_,' said the doctor.

'Now, then, suppose that the marquis, waking out of such a state, whether voluntarily induced (which is very improbable) or not, thought fit to withdraw himself, for the purpose of secretly watching, from some retreat, the behaviour of his heir, if he has made Mr. Logan his heir? Is that hypothesis absolutely out of keeping with his curious character?'

'No. It's crazy enough, if you will excuse me, but, for these last few weeks, at any rate, I would have swithered about signing a fresh certificate to the marquis's sanity.'

'You did, perhaps, sign one when he made his will, as he told me?'

'I, and Dr. Gourlay, and Professor Grant,' the doctor named two celebrated Edinburgh specialists. 'But just of late I would not be so certain.'

'Then my theory need not necessarily be wrong?'

'It can't but be wrong. First, I saw the man dead.'

'Absolute tests of death are hardly to be procured, of course you know that better than I do,' said Merton.

'Yes, but I am positive, or as positive as one can be, in the circ.u.mstances. However, that is not what I stand on. _There was a witness who saw the marquis go_.'

'Go--how did he go?'