“Then, sir, I may as well say it now. The knife belongs to Mr Grahame.”
A thrill of horror went through the little crowd, and Sandy burst into tears.
“Where does he live, this Mr Grahame?”
“He did live at Bilberry Hall, sir,” blubbered Sandie; “but a few days ago he sailed away for the Southern Seas.”
“Was he poor or rich, Sandie?”
“As poor as a church mouse, sir. I’ve heard him tell Miss Annie Lane so. For I was always dandlin’ after them.”
“Thank you; that will do in the meantime.”
Craig had evidently been robbed, for the pockets were turned inside out, and another discovery made was this: the back of the coat was covered with dust or dried mud, so that, in all human probability, he must have been murdered on the road, then dragged and hidden here. There was a terrible bruise on one side of the head, so it was evident enough to the surgeon, as well as to the detective, that the unfortunate man must first have been stunned and afterwards stabbed. There was evidence, too, that the killing had been done on the road; there were marks of the gravel having been scraped away, and this same gravel, blackened with blood, was found in the ditch.
The detective took his notes of the case, then calling his man, proceeded to have the man laid on the litter. The body was not taken home, but to the barn of an adjoining cottage.
Here when the coroner was summoned and arrived from Aberdeen, part of the inquest was held. After viewing the body, the coroner and jury went to Birnie-Boozle, and here more business was gone through.