Gently North-West

  Gently took a deep breath. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen the Scotsman this morning. But I’ve had Flora McCracken come hunting me with a knife, and she’s sitting in a cell here waiting collection.’

  ‘Guidness gracious – are you all right, man?’

  ‘I’m all right. What about this confession?’

  ‘It’s just that he made it – and it’s very circumstantial – an’ jings! – what else could I do but charge him?’

  ‘So?’

  Pause at Blayne’s end.

  ‘Man, this is awkward,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll fetch the lassie, no fear o’ that, but the de’il kens what I’m goin’ to do with her.’

  ‘Her confession was also circumstantial.’

  ‘I ken – I ken. An’ there’s the prints.’

  ‘You can hold her on attempted g.b.h.’

  ‘I can that . . . but what next?’

  Another pause.

  ‘I’m thinkin’,’ Blayne said. ‘It’s as clear as day that one o’ them did it.’

  ‘Clear as day,’ Gently said. ‘Either Hector McCracken or his daughter.’

  ‘And I’m thinkin’ further – and you’ll ken the truth of it – that the McCrackens are a chancy clan, and that whichever one finishes up in the tolbooth, there’ll be a manner o’ justice in it.’

  ‘Something of that sort,’ Gently said.

  ‘A manner o’ justice,’ Blayne said. ‘Which should be the guidin’ light of all polismen faced with unusual situations. So we’ll just fetch the lassie up here – we’ll see who suits the bonnet best – and one way or t’ ither, we canna go very far astray.’

  A week later he rang Gently. His choice had fallen on Flora. She was convicted. She was found of unsound mind. She didn’t finish up in the tolbooth.

  Note: In selecting mottoes for the chapters I have had occasional recourse to collections laid under contribution by a distinguished predecessor.