Murder at Midnight Read Online Free Page B

poem.”
    “How thrilling,” Julie all but squealed.
    Cleverly cleared his throat. “I’m no poet,” he warned. “I took a few liberties with the Gaelic to keep it in rhyming verse, but I didn’t change anything of substance.” He cleared his throat again and paused. The room stood quiet in a brief respite from the storm, except for the crackling of the fire and the ticking of the mantelpiece clock, where the hour hand pointed to ten. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the professor to begin. Rex too was swept up in the historic tale of guilt and greed. The whereabouts of the Loch Arkaig Treasure remained one of the great unsolved mysteries of Scotland. Was it possible the people in this room were on the brink of discovering what had become of part of it?
    Cleverly stared hard at the rug, slowly nodding as though in recollection. After a final decisive nod, he began the first words, but was cut short when a warbling voice from the fireplace recalled attention to the man in the wheelchair. Rex had assumed the invalid was asleep as, apparently, had the others, because everyone jumped.
    “Closer, please, so I can hear. My ears aren’t what they used to be. ”
    “Very well,” Professor Cleverly replied in surprise. “I’ll stand here in the centre so everybody can hear.” Accustomed to giving lectures, he began for the second time, addressing the entire room, where everyone listened spellbound.

3 a gaelic poem
    Seek high, seek low
    For the Jacobite gold
    Brought over the seas in a stout ship’s hold
    A princely sum raised by France and Spain
    That bonny brave Scotland might fight again.
    Hidden in the glen where the eagle soars
    Above the loch where the burn in spring roars
    For forty-odd years buried long and deep
    How many more years its secret to keep?
    A brief silence ensued, and then everyone began talking at once.
    “I don’t see any specific clues,” Julie said, slightly the worse for drink and slurring her words.
    “Don’t you?” the professor asked with a sly smile amid his gray stubble.
    “It’s all in the words glen, eagle, buried, and keep ,” Catriona explained. “As in the keep of a castle. Gleneagle Castle.”
    “It’s pretty obvious when you know the location,” Rex agreed. “‘Above the loch where the burn in spring roars,’” he quoted. “When the ice melts in spring, that burn runs swift and positively clamours.”
    Helen alone seemed to appreciate the sarcasm in his words, and cast him a knowing look, suppressing a smile.
    “Exactly,” Catriona exclaimed in triumph. “It’s clear as daylight. And we know the gold came to the west coast of Scotland, not far from here.”
    “But,” said Flora. “Sorry to put a damper on things … Glens, lochs, eagles, and even castles, are common in Scotland. And castles were often built on hills and near streams.”
    “But the priest’s diary refers to a Fraser from these parts,” the professor countered. “‘A laird plagued by the shame of his forebears,’ an entry reads, ‘who could not escape his dark and cowardly destiny of betrayal and deceit.’” Cleverly succeeded in instilling the most sinister sentiment into his quote. “A man who stole from the Young Pretender and his loyal and brave followers. It was fitting that he died before he could enjoy all his gold.” He shook his bald head and gave a heartfelt sigh. “The curse of the Red Dougal Frasers.”
    “This is giving me goose bumps,” Helen said, rubbing her bare arms.
    The professor, brusquely swiveling his red paisley cravat out of the way, set down his tumbler of whisky on the nearest table and put himself in a semi-crouch, hands open before his face, as if warding off danger. “Imagine the clansman, swathed in tartan stained with sweat and soiled with the earth, digging up bags of gold from the loch-shore, where he’d previously marked the spot by carving out a cross with his dirk in the bark of an alder tree. Perhaps he wore a white cockade on his