The land by now was excessively hilly and the lonely road wound crazily this way and that, bordered by dark plantations of firs and pines so that it was inexpressibly gloomy. I felt my own heart becoming oppressed by the surroundings and marvelled at the girl and her family choosing to make their dwelling in this outlandish place.
As though he could read my thoughts Pons observed to the girl, “Tell me, Miss Hayling, this country, as you have already told us, is almost impossible for farming. It looks equally forbidding for leisure pursuits.”
“That is correct, Mr Pons,” said our hostess earnestly. “Now that you see it for yourself I am sure you will agree the notion is quite preposterous. There is some fishing, certainly a little shooting but hereabouts forestry with some grazing is about the only possibility.”
Pons nodded, puffing thoughtfully at his pipe.
“This Colonel McDonald, Miss Hayling. Do his estates adjoin yours in any way?”
Mackintosh turned round in his seat at mention of McDonald and I saw him and the young lady exchange a long look. The latter nodded vigorously.
“Oh, yes indeed, Mr Pons. You might almost say we are encircled by his property.”
Pons’ eyes flashed beneath the brim of his hat as he glanced across at me.
“That is extremely interesting, Miss Hayling, and could explain many things.”
“I fail to see, Pons…” I began when we were interrupted by a lurching movement of the trap and Mackintosh applied the brake. I saw that we were travelling down a steep hill into a valley so deep that it appeared to be nothing more than a vast bowl half-filled with mist.
“This is the river hereabouts, Mr Pons,” said the girl. “It is a gloomy place, I am afraid.”
I hung on to the rail at the side of the cart and prayed that nothing would happen to the brakes as the cob was having some difficulty in keeping its feet. A few moments later Pons and I, by tacit consent and without speaking descended, and Pons went to take the horse’s head. I walked with him and we proceeded like this for some way. It was indeed an awe-inspiring place and we seemed to be descending an interminable distance down the narrow, twisting road.
Presently the slope eased out and Mackintosh brought the cob to a halt to give him a rest. He slipped down to give the beast a knob of sugar.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” he said. “The hill is a very difficult place and yon slope the other side is little different.”
As a breath of wind slightly cleared the mist I saw that we were almost on to a right-angle turn leading over a large rustic bridge, which had white-painted railings protecting the edges. Pons and I walked across and after a short while the trap followed. Pons paused at the far edge and rested his two hands on the edge of the palings. Far away and below us, apparently at a vast distance, came the rushing of water. The trap was now level with us and Mackintosh drew it up obediently. Pons turned to Miss Hayling.
“I am sorry to revive sad memories, Miss Hayling, but is this the spot where your parents met their fatal accident?”
The girl shivered, though not with cold, and a dark shadow passed across her face.
“That is so, Mr Pons. Just a little farther along. The carriage is still down there.”
Pons’ languid air was transformed.
“What do you mean?”
“Why, Mr Pons, the place is so steep and the slopes either side so precipitous that it still rests on the bed of the stream.” “Indeed.”
Solar Pons’ eyes were glittering with excitement and he puffed smoke furiously from his pipe.
“So there was no evidence about the carriage produced at the inquest?”
“I do not quite follow you, Mr Pons.”
“No matter, my dear young lady. If you will excuse me for a few minutes I will just satisfy my curiosity.”
To my astonishment he walked a little farther over the bridge, skirted the railing where it rejoined the road at another steep turn and disappeared into the dark, misty woodlands which led down to the invisible stream below. For some while I could hear the swishing of his shoes among the leaves and then they died out in the noise of the river. Mackintosh sat politely, his eyes in front of him, though I could sense he was as astonished as the rest of us. In the event more than a quarter of an hour had passed before Pons reappeared, dusting himself down absently.
“You will forgive me, I am sure, Miss Hayling, but I always like to see things for myself.”
“And what did you see, Pons?” I asked as we re-seated ourselves in the trap.
“Oh, the vehicle is there all right, Parker. The stream is quite shallow and I could see it clearly through the dark water. We can have it up, if necessary.”
“Have it up, Pons?”
Solar Pons nodded but further conversation was again interrupted by the necessity of descending once more as the way again became extremely steep and dangerous, leading upward eventually from the other side of the bridge toward the estate of Glen Affric. We passed two lichen-encrusted gate-posts surmounted by stone heraldic griffins and were then on a sort of plateau which contained the park. Miss Hayling pointed off to the right, where the blank white wall of mist skirted the driveway.
“In good weather one has an excellent view of our local mountain, Ben Affric, in that direction, gentlemen.”
“Indeed.”
Pons looked musingly about him but it was obvious that even had the air been clear his thoughts were far away and absorbed with calculations that were obscure to me. The road led steeply up the drive which wound between a gloomy avenue of trees, now dank and dripping moisture in the bitingly cold air. Twice Pons glanced back behind him and I thought at first he feared we were followed but then realised he was reconstructing in his mind the tragic scene as the late Mr and Mrs Hayling’s trap bowled down that steep hill and through the main gates for the last time.
At length we came up through a dark, almost threatening mass of rhododendron and evergreen shrubbery into a gravelled concourse beyond which lay the long, low granite mass of the house. With its yellowed walls and lichen; the heraldic devices repeated on stone shields below the turret-like roofs; and the Gothic stable-block beyond, it was a forbidding sight and my heart sank at the lonely and oppressive atmosphere of the place, lost in these dank and dripping pine woods.
But Pons sprang alertly down to assist the lady, merely observing, “You will note, Parker, that Miss Hayling has spoken correctly. The estate is the only flat land for miles around. I commend that factor to you.”
“I cannot see its significance, Pons,” I confessed.
But my companion had already turned to the massive figure of Mackintosh as his client hurried toward the front steps of the house.
“I should like to have that trap up from the stream-bed by tomorrow, Mackintosh, if it is at all possible.”
The gardener scratched his head, looking thoughtfully at the horse which was staring wistfully toward the stable-block.
“Well, sir, it would be possible if you are really determined on it.”
“I am so determined,” said Solar Pons.
The grave eyes were appraising my companion now.
“Well, sir, if it is to help Miss Hayling, I would do anything for the lady. We have a tenant who farms a few acres just below here. In fact there are two farmers who manage to scrape some sort of a living from the skirts of our land. If he and his boy are not too busy we might try to get it up.”
“I would be obliged. It will not be necessary to recover the equipage, merely to raise it from the water in order that I may make a brief examination.”
“It shall be done, sir.”
Mackintosh raised his whip in salute and rattled off to the stables at a brisk pace.