The House of the Deer: A deftly-crafted and suspenseful romance, page 1
THE HOUSE OF THE DEER
D. E. Stevenson
First published by Wm. Collins in 1970
Copyright © Dorothy Emily Peploe 1970
This edition published in 2022 by Lume Books
The right of Dorothy Emily Peploe to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
Table of Contents
1 - WHICH INTRODUCES SIR WALTER MacCALLUM AND HIS FAMILY
2 - IN WHICH VARIOUS MATTERS ARE DISCUSSED AND PLANNED
3 - IN WHICH AN INOFFENSIVE GENTLEMAN AIRS HIS VIEWS
4 - WHICH TELLS OF A RENDEZVOUS AT ARDFALLOCH INN
5 - TELLS OF GERALD’S ARRIVAL AT THE HOUSE OF THE DEER
6 - IN WHICH A YOUNG MAN IS DUMBFOUNDED
7 - WHICH CONCERNS ITSELF WITH FOUR GOOD COMPANIONS
8 - WHICH DESCRIBES THE SLAYING OF A STAG
9 - INTRODUCES ANOTHER GUEST AT THE HOUSE OF THE DEER
10 - IN WHICH DONNY BECOMES COMMUNICATIVE
11 - WHICH CONCERNS A SHOPPING EXPEDITION
12 - IN WHICH GERALD MAKES NEW FRIENDS
13 - IN WHICH GERALD RELATES A TRUE STORY
14 - WHICH DESCRIBES A PICNIC BY THE RIVER
15 - IS CONVERSATIONAL
16 - IS CONFIDENTIAL
17 - IN WHICH COLIN LAYS HIS PLANS
18 - WHICH DESCRIBES THE STALKING OF THE HUMMEL
19 - IN WHICH MAC BOILS OVER
20 - IS CONCERNED WITH A SERIOUS INQUIRY
21 - IN WHICH MAC IS OFFERED ADVICE
22 - IS CONCERNED WITH THE ARRIVAL OF A LETTER
23 - DESCRIBES A MAN-HUNT OVER THE HILLS
24 - IN WHICH IS RECORDED GERALD’S ADVENTURES AT THE HORSEMAN’S INN
25 - IN WHICH AN INVALID RECEIVES VISITORS
26 - WHICH TELLS HOW PHIL CARRIED OUT HER IDEA
27 - TELLS HOW MAC SOLVED ALL THE PROBLEMS
1
WHICH INTRODUCES
SIR WALTER MacCALLUM
AND HIS FAMILY
Gerald Burleigh Brown had received an invitation to dine at Birkhill. He was persona grata at Birkhill, and dined there at least once a week, but this was ‘a special occasion’ for it was Alastair MacCallum’s ninth birthday and Alastair was being allowed to sit up for dinner as a birthday treat.
As Gerald turned in at the gate and drove up to the front door he remembered his first visit to Birkhill. It was almost a year ago now and he had approached the house with very different feelings for having arrived in Glasgow only that afternoon he was a stranger in a strange land. It seemed a good deal more than a year ago – so much had happened in the interval – but all the same he remembered every detail clearly. At that time Sir Walter MacCallum was a widower; his mother lived with him and kept house for him and his small son.
They had dined well – Sir Walter appreciated good food – and when they had finished dinner Gerald had been taken to Sir Walter’s study to talk business. He had been informed that his host’s ‘greatest ambition in life’ was to become his brother-in-law and had been asked if he had any objections to offer.
Gerald had no objections: he liked Sir Walter immensely and felt sure he was the right man for Bess. He was older than Bess, (but not more than forty) he was good-looking and friendly and kind. He was the owner of MacCallum’s Ship-Building Yard which was an exceedingly well-run and efficient concern and, although he was a Great Man in his own line of business, there was ‘no nonsense’ about him. Who could have objected to a brother-in-law so admirable in every way?
Unfortunately there was an obstacle to the marriage, which at the time had seemed insurmountable, but when this had been surmounted (chiefly by Gerald’s efforts) Walter and Bess had been married; Gerald had been given a responsible post in MacCallum’s Ship-Building Yard; old Lady MacCallum had moved to Bournemouth and Bess reigned in her stead.
Gerald parked his car in the drive and walked in; there was no need to ring the bell and disturb Frost … but Frost had heard the car and appeared from the back premises to welcome him and to take his hat.
‘Hullo, Frost!’ said Gerald. ‘It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?’
Frost agreed and added that Sir Walter had been delayed but would be ready in ten minutes. Then he opened the drawing-room door and Gerald went in and sat down in a comfortable chair.
The room looked different now, for old Lady MacCallum had taken her goods and chattels to Bournemouth in three enormous vans and Bess had brought her own furniture from her flat in London. It was a great improvement: the well-shaped room seemed larger without the clutter of small tables and uncomfortable little chairs. It was restful and spacious.
Gerald had been sitting in the drawing-room for not more than two minutes when a gruff voice announced fiercely:
‘Fee, fie, fo, fum,
‘I smell the blood of an Englishman!
‘Be he alive, or be he dead,
‘I’ll grrrind his bones to make my brrread.’
‘Help!’ shouted Gerald, leaping from his chair and seizing the poker.
A small pink face rose up from behind a big sofa, it was grinning from ear to ear. ‘Were you frightened, Uncle Gerald?’ demanded the imp.
‘Terrified!’
‘I thought you would be. You didn’t know I was there, did you?’
‘No, I thought you would be in bed. Why aren’t you in bed?’
‘Because it’s my birthday, of course. You knew it was my birthday, didn’t you? … and I expect that parcel is for me,’ declared Alastair, emerging from his hiding-place. He was followed by a smaller boy with bright red hair and bony knees, who stood and looked at Gerald somewhat sheepishly.
‘That’s Thom Two,’ said Alastair. ‘I’ve told you about him, haven’t I, Uncle Gerald?’ He gave his friend a push and added, ‘Go on, you ass! Say how d’you do.’
‘Thom Two’ walked forward and he and Gerald shook hands solemnly.
Alastair had now seized the parcel and was tearing the paper with small strong hands. Thom Two knelt down on the floor beside him and whispered, ‘But, MacCallum, you haven’t said “Thank you”.’
‘I know,’ replied ‘MacCallum’. ‘I’m just waiting to see what it is. If it’s a shunting engine for my electric train it will need five times more “thank yous” than if it’s a box of chocolates – or anything else. Come on, you can help me to open it.’
Two small pairs of hands made short work of the brown paper wrappings … and as it happened to be a shunting engine for an electric train suitable thanks were rendered to the donor:
‘Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!’ said Alastair, seizing his uncle’s hand and shaking it enthusiastically. ‘It’s absolutely super. I don’t know how you guessed I wanted a shunting engine!’
There was no mystery about it – not really – for Gerald was a skilled electrical engineer and when anything went wrong with the electric train system he was called in to ‘sort it’. He enjoyed this job for he was very fond of Alastair and the electric trains were the best that money could buy; the rails were laid out all over the floor in one of the spare bedrooms with stations and bridges and level-crossings and tunnels and signal boxes in the appropriate places … and, having discovered that Walter’s present to his son was a goods station with extensive sidings, Gerald had ‘guessed’ that a shunting engine would be required.
The shunting engine had been examined and admired and the boys were gathering up the torn paper from the drawing-room floor when the door opened and Bess came in, followed by Walter.
Bess rushed at the guest and hugged him. ‘Darling Flick! I haven’t seen you for ages!’ she exclaimed. ‘What have you been doing?’
‘Working, of course,’ replied Gerald.
‘You haven’t seen him for four days – not since Tuesday evening,’ said Walter laughing
‘Oh, it’s all very well for you! You see him every day,’ retorted Bess, joining in the laughter. ‘You saw him this morning, I suppose. You’re overworking Flick – that’s what you’re doing! The poor darling hasn’t time to come and see his sister.’
‘Look, Dad!’ cried Alastair, holding up his newly-acquired treasure. ‘Look what Uncle Gerald has given me! It’s a shunting engine – exactly what I wanted. Isn’t it absolutely super?’
The party was now complete so the five members of it went into the dining-room and sat down to their meal. The two younger members ate in complete silence, their elders chatted.
‘Have you seen an evening paper, Walter?’ Gerald inquired. ‘I brought you one in case you hadn’t. There’s a good deal more about the robbery at Keble and Kidd’s Yard. The police have caught two of the gang – the others got away.’
‘I’d like to see the paper afterwards,’ said Walter nodding.
Alastair stopped eating and announced, ‘Everybody at school was talking about it this morning. Mr Merryman said they stole all the men’s wages for a whole week – it was thousands of pounds.’
‘How awful!’ Bess exclaimed. ‘Don’t they have men to guard the money? I mean there have been so many robberies lately. They should have been more c
areful, shouldn’t they, Walter?’
‘Their security measures were inadequate,’ agreed Walter.
‘Dad, how do we guard the money?’ inquired his son.
‘We take adequate precautions.’
‘What sort of precautions?’
‘Our security measures are secret.’
‘Does Uncle Gerald know about them?’
‘I, alone, am responsible for our security measures,’ replied Sir Walter firmly.
‘But I want to know,’ explained Alastair. ‘Everybody at school wants to know so I said I would ask you.’
‘You have asked me and I have given you my reply: the security measures at MacCallum’s are secret.’
‘But Dad, you always tell me things about the yard! I’ll promise faithfully not to tell anybody if you like. I’ll just say it’s a secret, so I can’t tell them about it.’
‘You will not,’ said Sir Walter sternly. ‘If anybody asks you about the security measures at MacCallum’s you will say that you know nothing about them. You will say that your father refused to answer your questions and that he, alone, is responsible for the safety of the yard.’
Alastair gazed at him in silence.
‘Do you hear what I say, Alastair?’ shouted Sir Walter, thumping on the table with his fist.
Alastair nodded. He couldn’t speak. His lips were trembling and his eyes were full of tears.
Gerald was amazed: he had never before known Walter speak and act intemperately. It was completely out of character. He was a gentle man – especially gentle in his dealings with his son – no wonder the boy was alarmed! The other boy was upset too, Gerald noticed.
Fortunately dinner was over so the boys escaped. They ran upstairs to play with the trains and the adults went into the drawing-room for coffee.
‘Walter, you frightened them!’ exclaimed Bess.
‘I meant to frighten them,’ replied Walter. He picked up the evening paper which Gerald had brought and sat down to read it.
It was such a lovely evening that Bess and Gerald opened the french windows and went out into the garden. The light was fading but it was quite mild. They were happy to be together – Bess put her hand through Gerald’s arm.
At last she said, ‘He’s dreadfully upset, Flick. It’s the robbery, of course. I suppose it might have happened at MacCallum’s?’
‘No, it couldn’t.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Our security measures are adequate,’ replied Gerald smiling down at her.
‘Do you mean you know about them?’
‘Yes.’
‘But he said you didn’t!’
‘He didn’t say that. What he said was: “I, alone, am responsible for our security measures – and of course it’s true. He’s responsible for them; I’m merely the stooge who obeys his orders.’
‘I thought you were helping with the electrical equipment of the new German ship.’
‘I was.’
‘You’re chatty tonight, aren’t you?’
Gerald smiled. ‘My job has been changed. Walter asked me to be his “private secretary”.’
‘Is it a “rise”?’
‘I’m getting more money – if that’s what you mean.’ (It didn’t matter telling her that much.)
‘But you don’t like it?’
‘Some of it is very interesting indeed, but some of the work is – is rather unpleasant.’
‘The security measures,’ said Bess, who was no fool.
Gerald was silent.
‘Oh well, if you won’t tell me you won’t tell me,’ said Bess. ‘But why did you agree to do it?’
‘Because Walter asked me. When Walter gave me a job in MacCallum’s Yard I made up my mind that I would do anything for him (I made up my mind that I would be happy to clean his shoes) and my feelings haven’t altered. I’m very fond of your husband, Bess.’
‘I know. That’s what makes everything perfect.’
‘Are you happy?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Walter and I love each other more and more. He’s so considerate, so gentle! (I never saw him behave as he did tonight.) I should be a funny kind of person if I were not happy with Walter … and Alastair is a pet.’
‘You don’t miss all the fun and excitement?’
‘No.’
‘I just wondered,’ explained Gerald.
The fun and excitement to which he referred was Bess’s success on the London stage. As Elizabeth Burleigh she had played the principal part in The Girl from Venus; she had been admired and fêted, idolised by her fans. Hundreds of people had stood for hours in the rain to see her. Her name had been blazoned in neon light over the portico of the theatre; her portrait had appeared in all the picture-papers. She had been showered with bouquets, half-buried in fan mail, pursued by men who were anxious to marry her – or to take her to Paris for a holiday!
Then, at the height of her fame, Bess had married Walter MacCallum and bowed herself out.
‘It was fun,’ said Bess thoughtfully. ‘But I was beginning to get a bit tired of the fuss. I was beginning to feel I wasn’t real. I was acting all the time. I’m glad I’ve done it (and made a success of it) but I’m not sorry it’s over. I’m Walter’s wife now and I think I’m making a success of my life as a real live woman.’
‘I’m sure you are. You’re a success with Alastair too.’
‘I’m hoping to be a success with Margaret.’
‘Margaret?’ asked Gerald.
‘Margaret is coming. Oh, not for months, but when she does arrive I want you to be her godfather. You will, won’t you?’
‘Of course I will!’ agreed Gerald. He kissed Bess and added, ‘I’m so glad, darling! Glad about Margaret, I mean. Take care of yourself, won’t you?’
‘I’ll take care of myself and Margaret,’ replied Bess, smiling happily.
(Gerald was not surprised that Bess had chosen the name. In all the wonderful stories Bess had told him when they were children the heroine had been ‘Margaret’.)
They walked on round the rose-garden and sat down together on a teak seat. It was quite dark now but there was a silvery glow in the sky which heralded the rising moon.
‘Supposing it isn’t Margaret?’ inquired Gerald, after a long silence.
‘If it isn’t Margaret it will be Gerald. He will be just as dear and precious of course. Gerald MacCallum sounds nice, doesn’t it?’
Gerald didn’t agree. He said tactfully, ‘It’s very sweet of you, Bess, but I think it ought to be Donald or Malcolm or Iain, or, perhaps, Colin? Colin was Walter’s father’s name, wasn’t it? What does Walter think about it? I expect Walter is tremendously pleased – ’
‘I haven’t told Walter,’ interrupted Bess.
‘You haven’t told Walter? But Bess – ’
‘Oh, I shall, of course! But not until after his holiday. He has arranged to go and stay with some friends in the north of Scotland for the stalking. It will be good for him to have a complete break and he wouldn’t go if I told him. See?’
‘Stalking?’ asked Gerald in surprise. It sounded an unlikely sort of holiday for Walter MacCallum.
‘Yes. His friends have a deer forest where they shoot stags.’
‘How can you shoot stags in a forest?’
Bess was chuckling. ‘Oh, Flick, how ignorant you are! There are no trees in a deer forest. It consists of moors and rocks and burns and bogs and bens.’
‘Why do you call it a forest?’
‘Because that’s what it’s called,’ replied Bess with irrefutable logic. She rose and added, ‘I must fly! I must send those children to bed. You had better have a chat with Walter before you go.’
2
IN WHICH VARIOUS MATTERS ARE
DISCUSSED AND PLANNED
Walter was in his study. He looked up from a letter he was writing and smiled. ‘Well, what have you and Bess been plotting? I saw you in the rose-garden talking very seriously indeed.’
‘Bess was telling me about your plans for a holiday. What have you been doing?’
‘I’ve been busy,’ replied Walter, laying down his pen. ‘You’ll be glad to hear I’ve made my peace with Alastair and the tom-tit. I was shown the shunting engine at work, it did its stuff in a satisfactory manner. Then I sent Alastair to have his bath and took the tom-tit home to its nest. I had a few words with its parent, who resembles his chick closely: small and bony with red hair and bright brown eyes. An intelligent bird! I returned home, tucked Alastair into bed and interviewed a detective who was waiting to see me: a man called Dawson, who is investigating the robbery at K. and K.’s.’
