A Tall Dark Stranger by Joan Smith

never seen him, and I spend a good deal of time in the meadow. Oh, speaking of the meadow, Lollie, could you spare me an hour this afternoon? I’d like to continue my sketch of the monkeyflowers.”
    “We can go now, if you like. I’ll have a look at that shepherd’s hut and see if I can’t find some trace that Mrs. Murray was there. Then you’ll know I speak the truth.”
    “I shall just slip into an older gown. It won’t take me a moment.”
     

Chapter Eight
     
    Within five minutes we were headed to the water meadow. I have always loved the meadow, but somehow I felt almost frightened when Lollie left to examine the shepherd’s hut and I was alone. The flowers weren’t in prime shape for sketching; their heads drooped with the weight of water from yesterday’s rain. A steady light plop sounded forlornly as water dripped from leaves into the pond below. My table rock was too damp to sit on comfortably, so I leaned against a tree and was promptly dowsed when a breeze stirred its branches. It made a shambles of my sketching pad as well.
    Since work was impossible, I decided to join Lollie at the shepherd’s hut. As I circled the water, I saw him coming out of the doorway. His face was paper white, his dark eyes staring. My heart shook with fear.
    “Not another body!” I gasped.
    He shook his head. “Money,” he said in a high, unnatural voice. “Whole bloody bags of it. There must be thousands of pounds in bank notes.”
    My heart slowed to a dull thud as I ran forward. “Where was it? Mr. Renshaw was in that hut recently. He didn’t mention seeing any money.”
    “It was buried beneath the straw.”
    Of course I had to see this marvel for myself. Lollie went with me. He had pulled the straw bed aside. Beneath it a hole had been dug and in it sat two canvas bags. They had leather straps and locks that had been sealed. The seals had been pried open. By the dim light from the doorway I saw stacks of new pound notes. Fives and tens. I couldn’t even begin to estimate how much money was there in all.
    “Those seals look official,” Lollie said. “I wager this was stolen from a bank or some such thing.”
    He took one bag to the doorway. The printing was hard to read, for the canvas was dark, but with careful examination we could make out the words “Property of the British Government.”
    “Egads! Someone has robbed the government!” Lollie said in a strangled squeak. “We’d best report it at once. You go, Amy. I’ll stay here and guard it.”
    “No, you come with me. You don’t even have a gun, Lollie. If the thief comes back after it, he’ll kill you.”
    “I’ll wager that is why poor Lord Harry was murdered!” Lollie exclaimed. “Odd that the money’s hidden on Maitland’s land.”
    “Come with me,” I urged again.
    “And let him get clean away with it? I should say not! I’ll hide if I hear anyone coming. In fact, if Maitland comes for his stolen blunt, I’ll follow him.”
    “No! Let him go! Just your having seen him will be evidence enough. We’ve both seen the money. Don’t take any foolish chances, Lollie. Not that I think Maitland is the thief!”
    “It’s on his land.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Mind you, I would have thought Maitland was too cagey to hide stolen goods on his own property. Pretty poorly hidden, too.”
    He glanced southward to where Beau Sommers’s land meets ours and Maitland’s. Sommers’s lot is wide and shallow, it faces a road parallel to the road Oakbay is on and touches both our land and Maitland’s at the back end.
    “Go on and be quick about it,” Lollie said. “Call McAdam, mind, not that idiot, Monger.”
    I ran like a hare through the meadow, looking over my shoulder a dozen times to make sure I wasn’t pursued. My bonnet flew off my head, tethered to my neck by its ribbons. In my haste and confusion I had left my paint box behind again. You will realize my state of perturbation when I tell you I didn’t think of it