As a matter of fact, she found very early in the evening, and continued to find thereafter, that the most engaging feature of Mr. Carrington’s character was the interest he took in other people’s business, so that the conversation very quickly strayed away from his own concerns—and remained away. It was not that he showed any undue curiosity; far from it. He was simply so sympathetic and such a good listener and put questions that showed he was following everything you said to him in a way that really very few people did. And, moreover, in spite of his engaging frankness, there was an indefinable air of discretion about him that made one feel safe to tell him practically everything. She herself told him the sad story of her brother in Australia (a tale which, as a rule, she told only to her special intimates) before he had been in her room half an hour.
But with the arrival of three or four choice spirits, the conversation became more general, and it was naturally not long before it turned on the greatest local sensation and mystery within the memory of man—the Cromarty murder. Mr. Carrington’s surprise was extreme when he realised that he was actually in the county where the tragedy had occurred, within a very few miles of the actual spot, in fact. Of course, he had read about it in the papers, but only cursorily, it seemed, and he had no idea he was coming into the identical district that had acquired such a sinister notoriety.
“By Jove!” he exclaimed more than once when he had made this discovery, “I say, how interesting!”
“Oh,” said Miss Peterkin with becoming pride, “we are getting quite famous, I can assure you, Mr. Carrington.”
“Rather so!” cried he, “I’ve read quite a lot about this Carnegie case—”
“Cromarty,” corrected one of the spirits.
“Cromarty, of course, I mean! I’m rather an ass at names, I’m afraid.” The young man smiled brightly and all the spirits sympathised. “Oh yes, I’ve seen it reported in the papers. And now to think here I am in the middle of it, by George! How awfully interesting! I say, Miss Peterkin, what about these gentlemen having another wee droppie with me, all round, just to celebrate the occasion?”
With such an appreciative and hospitable audience, Miss Peterkin and the choice spirits spent a long and delightful evening in retailing every known circumstance of the drama, and several that were certainly unknown to the authorities. He was vastly interested, though naturally very shocked, to hear who was commonly suspected of the crime.
“Do you mean to say his own heir—and a young girl like that—? By Jove, I say, how dreadful!” he exclaimed, and, in fact, he would hardly believe such a thing conceivable until all the choice spirits in turn had assured him that there was practically no doubt about it.
The energetic part played by Mr. Simon Rattar in unravelling the dark skein, or at least in trying to, was naturally described at some length, and Mr. Carrington showed his usual sympathetic, and, one might almost say, entranced appreciation of the many facts told him concerning that local celebrity.
Finally Miss Peterkin insisted on getting out the back numbers of the local paper giving the full details of the case, and with many thanks he took these off to read before he went to bed.
“But mind you don’t give yourself the creeps and keep yourself from going to sleep, Mr. Carrington!” she warned him with the last words.
“By Jove, that’s an awful thought!” he exclaimed, and then his eyes twinkled. “Send me up another whisky and soda to cure the creeps!” said he.
Miss Peterkin thought he was quite one of the pleasantest, and promised to be one of the most profitable gentlemen she had met for a very long time.
Next morning he assured her he had kept the creeps at bay sufficiently to enjoy an excellent night’s sleep in a bed that did the management credit. In fact, he had thoroughly enjoyed reading the mystery and had even begun to feel some curiosity to see the scene of the tragedy. He proposed to have a few walks and drives through the neighbouring country, he said, looking at its streams and lochs with an eye to sporting possibilities, and it would be interesting to be able to recognise Keldale House if he chanced to pass near it.
Miss Peterkin told him which road led to Keldale and how the house might be recognised, and suggested that he should walk out that way this very morning. He seemed a little doubtful; spoke of his movements as things that depended very much on the whim of the moment, just as such an easygoing young man would be apt to do, and rather indicated that a shorter walk would suit him better that morning.
And then a few minutes later she saw him saunter past her window, wearing a light gray felt hat at a graceful angle and apparently taking a sympathetic interest in a small boy trying to mount a bicycle.
XXI
Mr. Carrington’s Walk
Mr. Carrington’s easy saunter lasted till he had turned out of the street on which the Kings Arms stood, when it passed into an easy walk. Though he had seemed, on the whole, disinclined to go in the Keldale direction that morning, nevertheless he continued to head that way till at last he was on the high road with the little town behind him; and then his pace altered again. He stepped out now like the sportsman he was, and
