Old Saxon Blood (Joan and Matthew Stock Mystery Book 5) by Leonard Tourney

Author:Leonard Tourney [Tourney, Leonard]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2019-06-27T00:00:00+00:00

A candle helped him down through the sleeping house. Outdoors, the effulgent moon sufficed. He crossed the greensward swiftly, making directly for the lake. Soon he was standing where he had stood earlier that day when Edward told him the history of the lake and pointed to the place where Sir John had drowned.

The water shimmered magically in its yellow light. Matthew, straining to see or hear, saw nothing but the placid water. Nor was there any other sign that what he had seen from his casement had material substance. But Matthew knew what he had seen, and he knew it had been no spirit.

His suspicion fell on Conroy. Conroy was strong, an experienced soldier, a practiced braggart who exulted in his physical prowess. It was Conroy, too, who had had charge of his master’s shallop.

Matthew conjectured that Conroy had hid the shallop, had come down in the dead of night to fetch it, and was now upon the lake in the same craft, rowing with his powerful arms.

But to what end? For exercise? To convey himself to the opposite shore, to which a reasonable man could as easily get by walking around?

Matthew was left with the island.

The assumption gave him a platform to build on. But having theorized as to the identity of the person and his activity, the next question was one of motive. Why should Conroy (or whoever else) want to journey to the island at midnight? Indeed, why go at all?

Matthew was starting to shiver a little. He realized that his vigil might go on all night. Joan would be beside herself with worry. He decided to go back. But first he resolved to establish more firmly one of his assumptions—to promote it from assumption to fact, if possible. He retraced his steps through the woods, then went to the stable, where he knew from Joan that Conroy had been exiled. He thought that if Conroy was in bed, then he was not rowing upon the lake, and although the opposite fact did not necessarily hold, it would strengthen mightily the assumption that it was Conroy whom Matthew had seen.

Warm odors of horse and hay assailed him as he opened the door, then he groped in the darkness of the stalls until he came to the little room that had been Edward’s and was now, according to the hostler, Conroy’s.

There was enough light from the moon to show him what was there and what wasn’t. There was no Conroy, but the man’s doublet and cloak were spread out on the pallet in the corner, and beneath were the sword and heavy soldier’s boots Matthew had never seen the man without.

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