Murder of a Lady (21 page)

Chapter XXXII

Mother and Son

Dr. Hailey had reached the age when a man knows, and is inwardly convinced of his knowledge, that life is short. That is a time when imagination loses something of its power. The vigour of his apprehensiveness in face of these murders, consequently, surprised him. He was punished, it seemed, for his discounting of Highland superstition. He took more snuff and rallied his thoughts.

“I abandon the search for the method of these crimes,” he told his companion. “And I shall not concern myself any more with their occasions. There is left only the strictly human business of motive. After all, it takes two to make a murder.”

McDonald nodded: “One can perhaps understand the murder of Miss Gregor,” he said. “But the murderer can scarcely have had any personal feeling against Dundas and Barley.”

“No. Especially as Dundas had failed to discover anything and Barley had built up a strong case against innocent people. But it seems to me quite useless to trouble about that aspect of the case. I mean to concentrate on Miss Gregor. I believe I know enough now about her character to warrant certain broad conclusions.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Don't forget for a single instant that Miss Gregor narrowly escaped being murdered long ago. The healed wound on her chest was inflicted by Duchlan's wife. Here is a woman who knew how to drive her sister-in-law to madness, to death, without losing her brother's regard. Duchlan isn't a fool. We may very well ask by what alchemy of persuasion he was held during all these years.”

McDonald agreed fervently. “As I told you,” he said. “My own impression of Miss Gregor was one of inhuman perseverance. She had a way of restating the most cruel slanders in the kindest terms, assuring you that she had forgiven faults which existed only in her own invention and pleading with you to be equally generous. When she spoke about Mrs. Eoghan in that way I wanted to tear her to pieces. She knew; she understood; and she persisted.”

Eoghan entered the room. His face expressed profound relief, but he looked, nevertheless, very grave.

“Has the policeman gone?” he asked Dr. Hailey.

“Yes. He said that he must report at once.”

“I've been with Oonagh in the nursery. What courage that girl has shown.” Suddenly he held out his hand to Dr. Hailey. “I want to thank you for what you did to-night in the boat.”

He sat down and covered his face with his hands. He exclaimed:

“Shall we ever come to the end of this horror? It's worse than death.” He raised his head. “I'm a coward, I know, but I've never been so frightened before. I was frightened to come downstairs just now. I swear I looked for a murderer at every step.”

He pronounced the word murderer like a personal name, a manner which neither of his companions found odd.

“That's exactly how I feel,” McDonald confessed. He stretched out his arm in a vague, uncomfortable gesture. “Murder is here.”

Dr. Hailey put his eyeglass in his eye.

“We had better stop this kind of thing,” he declared firmly, “and get to work, to business. If murder is here, let us try to find and end it.” He turned to Eoghan. “I want you to tell me,” he asked in earnest tones, “exactly what your feelings were towards your aunt.”

His voice recalled the young man sharply.

“She brought me up.”

“That isn't what I want information about. What did you feel towards her?”

The question wrought a silence which became uncom-
fortable.

“One hates to speak about such things,” Eoghan said at last.

“I beg that you will speak.”

“I suppose I didn't feel as grateful as I ought to have felt.”

“You disliked her?”

“In a way. Yes.”

“Why?”

Eoghan shook his head.

“I don't know. She was very, very kind to me.”

“Did you quarrel with her?”

“Yes, I did. Very often.”

“About your mother?”

The young man started.

“Yes.”

“Although you had never known your mother?”

“I don't remember anything about my mother.”

“So that what upset you was the picture of your mother which your aunt gave you?”

Eoghan started again.

“I suppose it was.”

“Children are always conventional. Other boys had mothers whom they liked; you naturally wished to believe that your mother had been as good and lovable as theirs. It seems that such an idea was not welcome in this house.”

Dr. Hailey's earnestness was such as to disarm resentment.

“A child,” he added, “usually goes straight to the heart of things. I take it you told your aunt that she hated your mother?”

“Yes.”

“She denied that?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ask your father about your mother?”

“No. I was afraid of my father.” Eoghan took out his pipe and tried to fill it. “As a matter of fact I was a solitary sort of kid. I was happiest when they left me to myself in the nursery. I used to pretend that my mother came and played with me there and that we were both frightened of Aunt Mary and father. I don't know where I got the idea but I always thought of my mother and myself as the Babes in the Wood.”

“Your aunt was the oppressor?”

He nodded. “My head was full of fairy tales. My mother was Red Riding Hood and Goldilocks and Cinderella in turn.”

“And your aunt the wolf and the bear and the ugly sister?”

“Perhaps, yes. It was vague, you know.”

“Your mother was Irish?”

“Yes.”

Dr. Hailey allowed his eyeglass to drop.

“Do you possess a picture of your mother?” he asked.

“Only a small photograph.” He flushed as he said this.

The doctor held out his hand.

“May I look at it?”

There was a moment of silence. Eoghan had stiffened in his chair, resentful apparently of the fact that it should have been guessed that he carried his mother's photograph about with him. But his resentment was soon lost in confusion. He took a small leather case from his pocket and handed it to the doctor.

“My mother gave the photograph to Christina,” he said in hurried tones which revealed how deep was his hurt that his only relic of his mother had come to him thus, at second hand.

There were two photographs in the case. One faded, inscribed to “my dear Christina”, the other new, of Oonagh. Oonagh bore a likeness to Eoghan's mother that was unmistakable. Dr. Hailey handed the case back without comment.

“You're a poor man?” he asked gently.

“I am.”

“Was that why you left your wife and child here, in this house?”

The question seemed to cause the young man acute distress.

“I don't think that was the only reason,” he said in hesitating tones.

“May I ask your other reason?”

“I didn't realize that Oonagh would be so unhappy here. I felt that I would like her to be here, where I had lived so long.”

“I see.” Dr. Hailey nodded several times. “Just as you would have liked your mother to be here?”

“Perhaps that is part of the reason, although I didn't think of it at the time. I wanted Hamish to have Christina as his nurse and I knew she would never consent to leave my aunt even if my aunt consented to part with her.”

“Were you gambling to make money?”

The question came abruptly. But it produced very little reaction.

“Yes.”

“To have enough to set up a home of your own?”

“Yes.”

“So you realized that your wife's position was hopeless in this house?”

“Yes.”

“Your aunt knew that you meant to have a home of your own?”

“She may have known.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I had told her that I thought a married woman ought to have her own home.” Eoghan hesitated again. “I suppose I knew that she was opposed to the idea, because I didn't develop it.”

“You were afraid of her?”

“I think everybody was a little afraid of her. My aunt had a way of making people who disagreed with her feel guilty. I can't tell you how she did it, but I often noticed the effect. I think her secret lay in her absolute conviction that whatever she thought or felt must be right. She was a deeply religious woman in rather a superstitious way. Perhaps it's necessary to be a Highlander to understand exactly what that means.”

The doctor nodded again.

“Without being a Highlander,” he said, “I had guessed that.”

“She was kind in making me an allowance. I couldn't have married Oonagh when I did but for that allowance.”

“It was paid to you?”

“Oh, no. It was paid chiefly in kind. My aunt dressed Oonagh and Hamish. She contributed to their board because my father is very poor. In addition she was constantly giving little presents.”

Eoghan broke off. Dr. Hailey gazed at him in silence for a few minutes.

“I want you to tell me quite frankly whether or not your wife's responses to those gifts seemed to you ungrateful,” he said.

“Sometimes they did seem to me a little ungrateful.”

“You told your wife that?”

“I tried to explain to her that my aunt's up-bringing and her up-bringing had been entirely different. Oonagh's people live a care-free sort of life. They have no money but they hunt and go about a great deal. Oonagh never knew what it was to be restrained till she was married. And she never knew what it was to lack money because she possessed everything she wanted. Coming here was like coming to prison. I tried to make her realize that Aunt Mary couldn't be expected to understand this and that, consequently, it wasn't fair to judge her as one might have judged a younger woman.”

He passed his hand across his brow. He, too, looked haggard and weary.

“Your wife wasn't persuaded?”

“No, she wasn't. She said she would prefer one room of her own anywhere. I had made up my mind to take her away from here no matter what it cost.”

“You mean, no matter whether or not your aunt refused to help you if you did?”

“Yes. Unfortunately I made a bad break in trying to get money quickly. I had to fall back on Aunt Mary.”

Dr. Hailey frowned.

“Surely that was an extraordinarily foolish thing to do?” he said.

“Yes, it was. But I was getting desperate.” Eoghan glanced at McDonald and then braced himself to tell the truth. “The truth is I felt I was losing Oonagh. Aunt Mary hinted that I had lost her. When she wrote me about Oonagh's flight from this house, I nearly went mad. If I could have got leave I would have rushed back here. Then I thought of blowing out my brains, so that she could be free. That moment of madness passed. I told myself it was a punishment for my not having got Oonagh a home of her own. I determined to try my luck there and then, because I felt somehow that a miracle would save me. I felt that it was impossible that Oonagh could be taken away from me. I could scarcely think. I hadn't slept for nights. All my thoughts were whirling in my brain like peas in a drum. I plunged and plunged till my friends were aghast. And I lost…”

He broke off. A bitter smile curved his lips.

“Lost. So that I hadn't a bean left in the world. I went back to my quarters and took my pistol out. There was nothing for it now but a quick ending. I think I would have shot myself if my best friend hadn't found me. He sat with me all night, listening while I talked. And I talked till dawn. Talked and talked. I told him everything, about my mother and my aunt and Oonagh. About you, McDonald. At the end he swore that Oonagh was in love with me. ‘Go back to her,' he begged, ‘and raise the money you owe somehow, anyhow. It'll come right in the end.'

“I was calmer and I saw what a fool and coward I had been. I asked for leave and got it.”

“You meant to borrow from your aunt?”

“Yes. I had a tale ready that my friend concocted for me—about losses on shares. Aunt Mary had no objection to gambling on the Stock Exchange.”

“That was business?”

“That was business.”

Dr. Hailey shook his head. His eyes expressed the wonder which so many human prejudices and misunderstandings caused him.

“You had written to your wife?” he asked.

“Yes. I had to appeal to her to keep on good terms with my aunt. I know now that it was that letter which sent her to Aunt Mary's room. When I arrived here I went straight to my aunt's room. My madness had returned on the long, lonely journey across the Firth. I was terribly worked up and felt I must get an answer immediately. Her locked door and her silence convinced me that she had made up her mind to have nothing more to do with me. Naturally, murder never entered my head. I rushed off to Oonagh's bedroom.”

He paused again. He shook his head sadly.

“I don't want to excuse myself in any way. But you had better know the facts. I suppose I was half-crazy with anxiety and worry and loss of sleep. I accused Oonagh of ruining me—not perhaps in those words, but she knew very well what I meant. I said I would have to leave the Army and go abroad. There was no hope now because Aunt Mary was against me. ‘There was only her money,' I cried, ‘between me and ruin. That's gone. I must go too.' I saw a terrible fear in Oonagh's eyes. She jumped up and tried to put her arms round my neck. She told me that you, McDonald, had offered to lend me money…”

He drew a sharp breath.

“That was like a wound in my heart. ‘Do you know,' I said very quietly, ‘that I would rather rob my aunt, cheat her, murder her if need be, than touch a penny of that swine's money.' Suddenly everything seemed to go red in front of my eyes. I sprang at Oonagh. I seized her by the throat. ‘Tell me,' I shouted, ‘exactly what has happened between you and that man.' I believe that, for one awful moment, I was prepared to strangle her.”

He covered his face with his hands. The room grew so still that the voice of the burn reached them, gurgling in its immemorial delight. Dr. Hailey saw that McDonald's face had grown stiff, like a mask.