“I see.”
Solar Pons tented his thin fingers before him, his deep-set eyes fixed on the housekeeper.
“The large-scale map of this area in front of you, for instance. Would you be able to indicate to me roughly, using this thick black crayon, the boundaries of Colonel McDonald’s estates.”
“I think so, Mr Pons.”
Mrs McRae sat with pursed lips, studying the map intently while Pons sat quietly smoking, his eyes studying her face. I had finished my bacon and eggs and had started on the toast and marmalade before she stirred. Then she seized the crayon and started etching boundaries over a large section of the map.
“That, to the best of my knowledge, is the extent of the Colonel’s lands, Mr Pons. I have no doubt Miss Hayling would corroborate, though I could not vouch for fine detail. The land by the stream there and the more mountainous parts may be inaccurate by a quarter of a mile or so.”
“A quarter of a mile or so, Mrs McRae!” said Pons, surprise on his face. “You are a paragon among female cartographers!” “You make fun of me, Mr Pons.”
“By no means, Mrs McRae. I have never been more serious. Those lines you have drawn are invaluable. My grateful thanks.”
“You are welcome, I’m sure.”
Mrs McRae rose, the surprise still evident on her face and with a reiterated statement that if we required anything further we were to ring, withdrew.
Pons sat for some minutes, studying the map, his eyes glittering with suppressed excitement. I sat back in my chair and finished my second cup of coffee. It was still almost dark outside, but the strengthening light showed only dim outlines of soaked coppices through the thin mist.
“You have found something, Pons?”
“It has confirmed my suspicions, Parker. Except for the main roads, Colonel McDonald’s lands completely surround the estate of Glen Affric. More significantly, Miss Hayling’s property is the only flat land of any size in these parts, the remainder consisting of bleak hillside, rough glen and undulating forest-land, most of it extremely inhospitable indeed.”
“Is that of significance, Pons?”
“Absolutely vital, Parker. It is an essential clue to this bizarre business. Look here.”
I drew my chair over, following the tip of the crayon, and carefully examined the map. By using the figures given for contours I was able to see it was indeed as Pons had said. Much of the land owned by the Colonel was precipitous and most of it lay at an altitude of over 2,000 feet.
“Let me have your thoughts on the matter, Parker.”
I frowned at him through the pipe-smoke.
“I have not many, truth to tell, Pons. Perhaps it is as the girl says. The Land Trust want Miss Hayling’s property for holiday development.”
Solar Pons narrowed his eyes thoughtfully through the smoke.
“I fancy there is a good deal more to it than that, Parker. However, McDonald is an expert at floating bogus companies. We will see what the Land Trust office has to say. They are located at Inverness, are they not?”
“I believe Miss Hayling said so, Pons.”
I studied the map again but the more I looked at it the more puzzling the problem became. We were interrupted at our occupation by the entrance of Pons’ client. She was dressed in a thick sweater, a long skirt and stout boots so it was evident that she was prepared for some heavy walking about the estate.
“I am just off to the Five-Acre Wood with Mr McRae, gentlemen. If there is anything further you require, Mackintosh or Mrs McRae will be glad to look after your wants.”
“We are quite well provided for, Miss Hayling,” said Pons equably. “And I have my day planned out, thank you.”
The girl smiled.
“Very good, gentlemen. Lunch is at one. I will see you then.”
We both stood as the girl left the room, her slim, lithe body the picture of health and energy.
“A very brave young lady, Pons,” I observed.
“I believe you have already said so, Parker. But it is a truism worth repeating, nevertheless.”
A few moments later we saw our hostess walk past the window with McRae.
“You do not think she is in any danger, Pons?”
My companion shook his head.
“Not for the moment. I fancy McRae can look after himself. She is in good hands.”
As soon as the couple had disappeared along the misty drive Solar Pons was galvanised into action.
“Now that the young lady is away, Parker, we can set to work. We must first find Mackintosh and I must then descend to the stream at the bottom of the ravine. It is imperative that we get that dog-cart up.”
“Just give me a minute or two, Pons,” I said. “I need my thick walking boots and an overcoat.”
“Very well, my dear fellow, but do hurry.”
When I bustled downstairs five minutes later Pons was already standing impatiently on the drive before the house, obviously eager to be off. We could not find Mackintosh at his cottage or the stable-block. It was now full daylight and Pons looked at his watch anxiously.
“I think we will make our own way there, Parker.”
I followed him down the drive. The mist had lifted a little but it was still a bleak and inhospitable day.
“Perhaps Mackintosh is already down there, supervising the lifting operations,” I suggested, as I fell into step with him. “Perhaps, Parker. We shall see.”
And he said nothing further until we had arrived at the bridge. The way down was indeed steep and precipitous and I must confess my heart sank when I thought of our errand and the terrible end of the girl’s parents in their headlong dash to destruction over this very road.
Our footsteps echoed hollowly in the mist and only the harsh cry of some bird broke the eerie stillness. Moisture pattered faintly from the dripping foliage and the bitter air rasped in one’s throat while our breath smoked out of our mouths. Pons had thrust his pipe into his pocket and walked along grimly, his brows frowning over his deep-set eyes. I had rarely seen him look so serious. For some reason he had seized a thick hawthorn stick from the hall-stand as he left the house and he slashed moodily at various pieces of foliage at the roadside as we descended.
We had reached the bridge and the sombre gorge now and I could hear the faint fret of the river in the far depths below. It struck with a chilling note to the heart. Pons glanced keenly about him.
“You have your revolver, Parker?”
I tapped the breast-pocket of my overcoat.
“You insisted on me bringing it north, Pons. You told me we were on a dangerous business. I have it here.”
A faint smile curled the corners of his lips.
“Excellent, Parker. You are running true to form.”
He had turned aside as he spoke and plunged downward between the dark boles of the trees as though he had known the place all his life. I followed rather more hesitantly, as it was slippery underfoot, and I was more than once thankful for the thick cleats on the soles of my heavy boots.
8
It was a dark and gloomy place and the incessant fret of the water, which grew ever louder, only emphasised its sombreness. Pons led at a fast pace, winding downward through the shadowy boles of the trees, the water roaring in our ears now. I saw as we came level with the stream that it tumbled over boulders below the bridge and then flowed level, though swiftly, in a calmer manner.
Pons plunged forward along the bank, following the curve of the stream, until he arrived at a point just below the. falls where there was deep, fairly agitated water. He looked up toward the bridge, which was hidden from us by the thick matting of undergrowth and tree-boles.