The Ninth Earl

Jeffery Farnol

Description

When a storm blew away part of the crumbling masonry of the old tower at Ravenhurst Castle it revealed a skeleton, hidden for many years, which was without doubt that of the seventh earl. Few people believed that the rightful heir whose existence until then had been unknown would be found so quickly - or that he would prove to be the person that he did. But they counted without the presence of the ubiquitous Jasper Shrig, the Bow Street runner, in their sleepy Sussex village of Ravenhurst.
One by one he unravelled the many mysteries which surrounded the castle and its curious inhabitants; the sullen eighth Earl, his frivolous son Viscount Hurst, the lovely Lady Clytie Moor and the dangerous Sir Humphrey Carr, his nephew. By listening to village gossip, by piecing together the few shreds of evidence which he possessed he was able to reach a solution, which events proved to be only too correct.

Sujets

• Fiction
• Mystery
• Detective

Informations

• Publié par: Rare Treasure Editions
• Date de parution: 23 novembre 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781774644980
• Langue: English

Extrait

First published in 1950.
This edition published by Rare Treasures.
[e-mail]
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, except in the case of excerpts by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

THE Ninth Earl

by


JEFFERY FARNOL
To

THE BEST AND TRUEST
OF FRIENDS

DAVID and ANN

CHAPTER I Concerning bones
“A skeleton?” said George, staring into the littlelawyer’s rubicund visage. “A skeleton—in a cupboard,sir?”
Mr. John Jackman, plumpish, middle-aged, extremelyprecise as to person and demeanour, extracted a pinch ofsnuff from the large silver box on the desk before him,inhaled it with two discreet snorts, dusted himself daintilywith snowy handkerchief and replied:
“Precisely! In a cupboard! A skeleton.”
“Astounding!” exclaimed George.
“Not at all, m’ dear boy. For, as you are so very wellaware, the family of Vane-Wynter is old as the Castleitself, and all old families have skeletons in cupboards, andthis family is so extremely ancient there may be half adozen other skeletons waiting to be found.”
“Though not dry bones, surely, sir!”
“Hum!” quoth Mr. Jackman, and his rosy faceassumed that expression of guileless innocence which divershuman sharks had found so very deceptive ere now.“There are certain pages of the Vane-Wynter historyreaching back to the bad old days that show unseemlyblotches here and there.”
“And when, sir, pray how was this gruesome discoverymade?”
“By act of God, in the late storm, George. A thunderbolttoppled down a chimney-stack which in its falldisclosed our skeleton-in-cupboard, which last, to beprecise, was one of those secret hiding-places called apriest’s-hole. But surely you and your aunt, living sonear, must have heard and seen?”
“We did both, sir, as did everyone in the village,though nobody heard tell of any skeleton.”
“Naturally, for, as the Earl’s steward, I forbade anymention of it until I had sent word to his lordship andnotified the legal authorities.”
“It’s fortunate,” said George, “that the family is neverin residence at the Castle.”
“Very!” said Mr. Jackman. “You have never yet seenthe Earl, eh, George?”
“Never, sir.”
“Which is not surprising, since he is never at Ravenhurstthese many years. So next time I visit him inLondon you will go with me, for meet his lordship youmust.”
“Must, sir?”
“Must, George! For—d’ye see, m’ dear fellow—theyears have proved my faith in you justified; the hopes Ihad of you so completely realised that, though you aresomewhat young, I have decided to take you into partnership.The firm henceforth shall be Jackman, Son, andBell.”
“Sir—sir——” gasped George, starting up from hischair. “You—I—indeed you—overwhelm me! Sir—— Oh,Mr. Jackman, how can I thank you—what can Isay——?”
“Not a word! Deeds, George, deeds, not written butacted. My only regret is that your long-dead parents—grandfolk as I remember them—are not alive to rejoicefor their son’s well-merited success.”
“Yes—yes!” said George, his grey eyes shining.“Would indeed they were!”
“However,” said Mr. Jackman, pausing in the act ofsnuffing, “if there is a heaven—mind, I say ‘if’, George,there being not a jot or tittle of evidence sufficientlyconvincing to the legal mind that any such place trulyexists—yet if it does, then they who so gloriously died arethere alive in glory for evermore and will doubtless beaware of—Jackman, Son, and Bell.”
“Sir,” said George, his voice unwontedly gruff andshaken, “though they died too long ago for me toremember, I—thank God—have Aunt Isabel, and for hersake and my own I—I’m trying to thank you for yourunfailing goodness to me, my schooling—college—university.Oh, sir, when I think of your kindness andmeasureless generosity I can only wonder——”
“George, as a boy I—loved your mother, and today Ido not exactly hate Isabel, this noble aunt of yours! Ah,well, well—sentiment is out of place in a lawyer’s office,so pray sit down, partner, and let us to business. Andegad, our present most pressing business is Jasper Shrig,chief of the Bow Street Office, who should be here shortlyto report on this skeleton. You have met Shrig, I think?”
“Once, sir.”
“Well, let me tell you he’s a tremendous fellow, not somuch in size but in everything else! Bold as a lion,guileful as a serpent, relentless as a bloodhound, thoughnone would believe it from his looks. What did you thinkof him, for instance?”
“Frankly, sir, he struck me as a dull, clumsy fellow.”
“Aha!” exclaimed Mr. Jackman, chuckling. “And byGeorge, George, no one can seem more so! Only waituntil you see more of him, only wait—no, you won’t haveto, for I believe he is here! Come in!” he cried to agentle tap upon the door, whereupon Mr. Beeby, the grey-hairedhead clerk, entered—to bow and announce:
“Mr. Jasper Shrig, of Bow Street, sir.”
CHAPTER II In which the ubiquitous Mr. Shrig reports
A shortish, powerfully built man was this famousofficer, very neat as to person, from snowy shirt-frill to thevery soles of his top-boots. The eight buttons upon histrim, blue coat glittered, the six upon his red waistcoattwinkled, his well-polished boots gleamed; and yet thebrightest things about him were his eyes, that seemed totake in Mr. Jackman, George and the room in as manyroving glances as he stood, hat in one fist, in the other aformidable knobbed stick with which he touched aneyebrow in salutation, saying:
“Your servant, gen’lemen!”
Mr. Jackman, having set forth decanter and glasses,greeted him like an old friend:
“Glad to see you again, Shrig. How are you?”
“Hearty, sir, I thankee.”
“This is my young partner, Mr. Bell, whom I thinkyou’ve met.”
“Honoured, sir,” quoth Mr. Shrig, bobbing that roundhead of his.
“Well now,” said the little lawyer as they sat all threeglass in hand, “wet your whistle, Shrig; keep it moist,and let us hear your report concerning this ghastly discoveryat Ravenhurst Castle.”
Mr. Shrig tasted his wine, beamed at it, sipped it, sighedand spoke:
“Mr. Jackman, sir, and partner, fresh corpses, partiesrecently de-funct being wictims o’ the Deed or CapitalAct, should ought, and generally do, have summat to tellas to the how, when and—sometimes—the oo of it—ifproperly ob-served. But this here long-departed partybeing little more than rags and bones by reason o’ rats,mice and Old Father Time, is dumb as any eyester, or—werrynearly.”
“Which,” said Mr. Jackson, refilling the glasses,“which is only to be expected, under the circumstances.”
“Ar!” sighed Mr. Shrig. “The party, de-funct, mustha’ been laying there so werry patient, vaiting to be found,say thirty, say forty year and more. But, spite o’ time andrats and mice aforesaid, this here relic o’ poor humanityhas found a woice, has spoke to me, werry faint and feeble,yet strong enough to tell me certain fax as I’ve doolywrote into my little reader.”
Here Mr. Shrig unbuttoned his trim coat and drewfrom its inner recesses a somewhat battered notebook,and, opening this at a certain page, continued:
“From obserwation personal—Fact number vun: longdeparted party a traveller nooly arrived. Evidence—bootsand spurs. Fact number two: twelve silver coat-buttons.Dee-duckshon—long departed party a person o’condition. Fact number three: no money, no joolry, notso much as a signet ring. No papers, not a scrap. Dee-duckshon—samehaving been removed by party or partiesunknown——”
“Good God!” exclaimed Mr. Jackman. “Are yousuggesting murder, Shrig?”
“Sir, I am reporting fax and the dee-duckshons drawedtherefrom.”
“But this—this unfortunate individual may have been thevictim of some accident, or have died by his own act, Shrig.”
“Accident, sir—p’raps. By his own act—no, sir andpartner, cer-tainly not!”
“Why so sure of this, Shrig?”
“Sir, on or near deceased was never a veapon, not somuch as a penknife.”
“Still, this is no proof he was murdered.”
“Hows’ever, sir and partner, on ree-moving deceased,bit by bit, and using all doo care, I ob-served a stainwerry large and therefore plain, as there could be nomistaking.”
“Ah!” sighed Mr. Jackman, almost whispering.“Blood?”
“That i-denticle, sir. Deceased had bled werry copiousindeed! Hence I dee-dooced same as wictim of theCapital Act, Mr. Jackman, sir and partner.”
“Now this,” said the little lawyer in voice troubled ashis look, “this is perfectly shocking, and horridlymysterious!” <