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Updated: June 22, 2025
Alexander Gale, medical practitioner, residing in the village or hamlet of Dingdovie, near Edinburgh. The communication related to the death, under circumstances of suspicion, of Mrs. Eustace Macallan, at her husband's house, hard by Dingdovie, called Gleninch. There were also forwarded to me, inclosed in the document just mentioned, two reports.
Eustace Macallan's death was in the pecuniary sense a serious loss to her husband. He had insisted on having the whole of her fortune settled on herself, and on her relatives after her, when he married. Her income from that fortune helped to keep in splendor the house and grounds at Gleninch.
What wayward creatures we are! With everything that a woman could want to make her happy, I was ready to put that happiness in peril rather than remain ignorant of what was going on at Gleninch! I actually hailed the day when my empty purse gave me an excuse for going to my banker's correspondent on business, and so receiving any letters waiting for me which might be placed in my hands.
"Has anything been found at Gleninch?" I asked. "No," said Benjamin. "I have only been trying experiments with a letter of my own, before I wrote to Mr. Playmore." "Oh, you have torn up the letter yourself, then?" "Yes. And, to make it all the more difficult to put them together again, I shook up the pieces in a basket. It's a childish thing to do, my dear, at my age "
The gardens at Gleninch were shown to tourists on certain days, and we made a difference, of course, in the matter of the flowers between strangers and guests staying in the house. I am quite certain of the identity of the lady who was talking with my master. Mrs. Beauly was a comely person and there was no mistaking her for any other than herself.
Drew Advocate-Depute, and counsel for the Crown, with the Lord Advocate Isaiah Schoolcraft said: "I got a warrant on the twenty-sixth of October to go to the country-house near Edinburgh called Gleninch. I took with me Robert Lorrie, assistant to the Fiscal. We first examined the room in which Mrs. Eustace Macallan had died.
"Not in her own room?" I repeated. "Are you really sure of that?" "I am sure of everything that I say, when I am speaking of Mrs. Beauly. Mind that: and now listen! This is a drama; and I excel in dramatic narrative. You shall judge for yourself. Date, the twentieth of October. Scene the Corridor, called the Guests' Corridor, at Gleninch. On one side, a row of windows looking out into the garden.
It asks but one favor of you: it asks to be read by the light of Christ's teaching "Judge not, that ye be not judged." "GLENINCH, October 19, 18 . "I have something very painful to tell you about one of your oldest friends. "You have never encouraged me to come to you with any confidences of mine.
Horrible, horrible, horrible letter." What, in God's name, was he talking about? What did those words mean? Was he unconsciously pursuing his faint and fragmentary recollections of a past time at Gleninch, under the delusion that he was going on with the story? In the wreck of the other faculties, was memory the last to sink?
In the neglected condition of the grounds, the dust-heap had not been disturbed in search of manure. There it had stood, untouched, from the time when the family left Gleninch to the present day. And there, hidden deep somewhere in the mound, the fragments of the letter must be. Such were the lawyer's conclusions. He had written immediately to communicate them to Benjamin.
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