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Updated: May 5, 2025
The rheumatic gout pleaded in the letter to Undershaw had been, he was certain, a mere excuse. Well something must be done; some fresh path opened up.
And holding her curly head absurdly high, she went back into the library, which Victoria, Undershaw, and Cyril Boden had just entered. Tatham regretted that he had not made more time to talk with her; to prepare her mind for alternatives. It might have been wiser. But Faversham's summons had been sudden; and his own expectations were so vague! However, there was no time now.
The question fell involuntarily from Undershaw. Boden did not reply. But as Undershaw spoke there flashed out a distant light on the rising ground beyond the streak of road. Above it, huddled shapes of mountains, dying fast into the darkness. They all knew it for a light in Green Cottage; the same that Tatham had watched from the Duddon moorland on the evening of the murder.
Then he went along the corridor to his library, half expecting to see some other invader ensconced in his own chair. He rang the bell and Dixon hurriedly appeared. "Show Doctor Undershaw in here." And standing on the rug, every muscle in his tall and still vigorous frame tightening in expectation of the foe, he looked frowning round the chaos of his room.
Faversham is our man. I must see Faversham at once, and set him to work! If I find him, I will report the result to you, Mrs. Melrose so far by luncheon time." He departed, to ring up the Threlfall office in Pengarth and inquire whether Faversham could be seen there. Victoria left the room with him. "Have you forgotten these rumours of which Undershaw wrote you?" "What, as to Faversham?
He made no reply to Undershaw's admiring comments; and the doctor wondered whether he was already ashamed of the impulse which had made him do so strange a thing. Presently, he threw open the door he had unlocked the week before, Undershaw stepped into a room no less attractive than the gallery outside.
Yo' knaw yoursel'," he added in the doctor's ear, "what Muster Melrose is." Undershaw muttered something expressing either wrath or scorn behind his moustache; then said aloud: "Never you mind, Dixon; I shall take the responsibility. You let me alone. Now, my boys, lend a hand with the hurdle, and give me some coats."
I don't imagine that he has dropped from the skies! If you don't know, and haven't troubled yourself to find out, I shall set the police on at once, track his friends, and hand him over!" Undershaw was at once all civility and alacrity. "I have already made some inquiries at Keswick, Mr. Melrose, where I was this morning.
With these and many others I have lived for months. If I have been unable to combine and transfer their effect, the fault is mine. "UNDERSHAW," November 30, 1905. In the month of July of the year 1348, between the feasts of St. Benedict and of St.
"Wonderful!" said Undershaw heartily, staring in amazement at the lovely tracery which incrusted the ceiling, at the carving of the doors, at the stately mantelpiece, with its marble caryatides, and at the Chinese wall-paper which covered the walls, its mandarins and pagodas, and its branching trees. "I never saw such a place. But what is my patient to do with an unfurnished room?"
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