Part 22 (1/2)
”Who started the lie?”
”It's just ignorance and want of education of the people, I'm thinking, Mr. Cromarty. They're no able to grasp the proper principles--”
”Lady Cromarty must be told! She could put a stop to it--”
Something in Bisset's look pulled him up sharply.
”I'm afraid her ladys.h.i.+p believes it herself, sir. Maybe you have heard she has keepit Miss Farmond to stay on with her.”
”I have.”
”Well, sir,” said Bisset very slowly and deliberately, ”I'm thinking--it's just to watch her.”
Ned Cromarty had been smoking a pipe. There was a crack now as his teeth went through the mouthpiece. He flung the pipe into the fire, jumped up, and began pacing the room without a word or a glance at the other. At last he stopped as abruptly as he had started.
”This slander has got to be stopped!”
And then he paced on.
”Just what I was saying to myself, sir. It was likely a wee thing of over anxiety to stop it that made me think o' the possibility of a wild man from America, which was perhaps a bit beyond the limits of what ye might call, as it were, scientific deduction.”
”When did Lady Cromarty begin to take up this att.i.tude?”
”Well, the plain truth is, sir, that her ladys.h.i.+p has been keeping sae much to herself that it's not rightly possible to tell what's been in her mind. But it was the afternoon when Mr. Rattar had been at the house that she sent for Miss Farmond and tellt her then she was wanting her to stop on.”
”That would be after she knew the contents of the will! I wonder if the idea had entered her head before, or if the will alone started it? Old Simon would never start such a scandal himself about his best client. He knows too well which side his bread is b.u.t.tered for that! But he might have talked his infernal jargon about the motive and the people who stood to gain by the death. That might have been enough to set her suspicions off.”
”Or I was thinking maybe, sir, it was when her ladys.h.i.+p heard of the engagement.”
”Ah!” exclaimed Ned, stopping suddenly again, ”that's possible. When did she hear?”
Bisset shook his head.
”That beats me again, sir. Her own maid likely has been telling her things the time we've not been seeing her.”
”Did the maid--or did you know about the engagement?”
”Servants are uneducated creatures,” said Bisset contemptuously. ”And women at the best have just the ae' thought--who's gaun to be fool enough to marry next? They were always gossiping about Mr. Malcolm and Miss Cicely, but there was never what I should call a data to found a deduction on; not for a sensible person. I never believed it myself, but it's like enough her ladys.h.i.+p may have suspected it for a while back.”
”I suppose Lady Cromarty has been nearly distracted?”
”Very near, sir.”
”That's her only excuse. But the story is such obvious nonsense, Bisset, that surely no one in their proper senses really believes it?”
The philosopher shook a wise head.
”I have yet to learn, Mr. Cromarty, what folks will not believe.”