The Lost Lady of Lone. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth
"How old are you?"
"Ou, ay, just nineteen come St. Andrew's Eve, at night."
"Where do you live?"
"Wi' my maister, Gillie Ferguson, the saddler, at Lone."
"Well now, then, what do you know about this case?" inquired the clerk, who, pen in hand, had been busily taking down the unimportant, preliminary answers of the witness under examination.
"Aweel, thin your worship, I ken just naething of ony account; but I just happen speak what I saw yestreen under the castle wa', and doctor here, he wad hae me come my ways and tell your honor; its naething just," replied Cuddie McGill, scratching his shock head.
"But tell us what you saw."
"Aweel, then, your worship, I had been hard at wark a' the day, and could na get awa to see the wedding deecorations. But after my wark was dune and I had my bit aitmeal cake and parritch, I e'en cam' my way over the brig to hae a luke at them."
"Well, and what did you see besides the decorations?"
"An it please your worship, as I cam through the thick shrubbery I spied a lassie, standing under the balcony on the east side o' the castle wa'."
"At what hour was this?"
"I dinna ken preceesely. It may hae been ten o'clock; for I ken the moon was about twa hours high."
"Ay, well; go on."
"I hid mysel' in the firs and watchit the lassie; for I said to mysel' it wair a tryste wi' her lad, and I behoove to find out wha they were. Sae I watchit the lassie. And presently a tall gallant cam' up till her, and they spake thegither. I could na hear what they said. But anon the tall mon went his ways, and the lassie bided her lane under the balcony. I wondered at that. And I waited to see the end. I waited, it seemed to me, full twa hour. The moon was weel nigh overhead, when at lang last the gallant cam' on wi' anither tall mon. And they passed sae nigh that I heard their talk. Spake the gallant: 'I would na hae had it happened for a' we hae gained.' Said the ither ane: 'It could na be helpit. The auld mon skreekit. He would hae brocht the house upon us, and we hadna stappit his mouth.' And the twa passit out o' hearing, and sune cam' to the lassie under the balcony. And the three talkit thegither, but I just couldna hear a word they spake. And sae I went my ways home, wondering what it a' meant. But I thocht nae muckle harm until the morn when I heerd o' the murder."
"Would you know the tall man again if you were to see him?" inquired the coroner.
"Na, for ye ken I could na see a feature o' his face."
"Would you know the girl again?"
"Na. I could na see the lass ony mair than the gallant."
"Nor the third man?"
"Na, nor the ither ane."
"Did you hear any name or any place spoken of between the parties?"
"Na, na name, na pleece. I hae tuld your honor all I heerd. I heerd no mair than I hae said," replied the witness.
And the severest cross-examination could not draw anything more from him.
The officials put their heads together and talked in whispers.
This last witness gave, after all, the nearest to a clue of any they had yet received.
The notes of the testimony were put in the hands of the London detective then present.
"Allow me to remind you, sir," said Lord Arondelle, "that this interview testified to by the last witness, was said to have taken place between ten and twelve at night, and that there is a train for London which stops at Lone at a quarter past twelve. Would it not be well to make inquiries at the station as to what passengers, if any, got on at Lone?"
"A good idea. Thanks, my lord. We will summon the agent who happened to be on duty at that hour," said the coroner.
And a messenger was immediately dispatched to Lone to bring the railway official in question.
In the interim, several of the household servants were examined, but without bringing any new facts to light.
After an absence of two hours, the messenger returned accompanied by Donald McNeil, the ticket-agent who had been in the office for the midnight train of the preceding day.
He was a man of middle age and medium size, with a fair complexion, sandy hair and open, honest countenance. He was clothed in a suit of black and white-checked cloth.
He was duly sworn and examined. He gave his name as Donald McNeil, his age forty years, and his home in the hamlet of Lone.
"You are a ticket-agent at the Railway Station at Lone?" inquired the coroner's clerk.
"I am, sir."
"You were on duty at that station last night, between twelve midnight and one, morning?"
"I was, sir."
"Does the train for London stop at Lone at that hour?"
"The up-train stops at Lone, at a quarter past twal, sir, and seldom varies for as muckle as twa minutes."
"It stopped last night as usual, at a quarter past twelve?"
"It did, sir, av coorse."
"Did any passengers get on that train from Lone?"
"One passenger did, sir; whilk I remarked it more particularly, because the passenger was a young lass, travelling her lane, and it is unco seldom a woman tak's that train at that hour, and never her lane."
"Ah! there was but one passenger, then, that took the midnight train from Lone for London?"
"But one, sir."
"And she was a woman?"
"A young lass, sir."
"Did she take a through ticket?"
"Ah, sir, to London."
"What class?"
"Second-class."
"Had she luggage?"
"An unco heavy black leather bag, sir, that was a'."
"How do you know the bag was heavy?"
"By the way she lugged it, sir. The porter offered to relieve her o' it, but she wad na trust it out o' her hand ae minute."
"Ah! Was it a large bag?"
"Na, sir, no that large, but unco heavy, as it might be filled fu' o' minerals, the like of whilk the college lads whiles collect in the mountains. Na, it was no' large, but unco heavy, and she wad na let it out o' her hand ae minute."
"Just so. Would you know that young woman again if you were to see her?"
"Na, I could na see her face. She wore a thick, dark vail, doublit over and over her face, the whilk was the moir to be noticed because the nicht was sae warm."
"You say her face was concealed. How, then, did you know her to be a young woman?"
"Ou, by her form and her gait just, and by her speech."
"She talked with you, then?"
"Na, she spak just three words when she handed in the money for her ticket: 'One—second-class—through.'"
"Would you recognize her voice again if you should hear it?"
"Ay, that I should."
"How was this young woman dressed?"
"She wore a lang, black tweed cloak wi' a hood till it, and a dark vail."
A few more questions were asked, but as nothing new was elicited the witness was permitted to retire.
Other witnesses were examined, and old witnesses were recalled hour after hour and day after day, without effect. No new light was