Malcolm Urquhart. You would have passed him on the stairs.’
‘I did. And a foul enough mood he seemed to be in. But Mr Sim did not write his name in the register.’
‘He did not stay. He had not come in to consult a book – he did not even sit down. He only wanted to speak with Mr Sim.’
‘And did he?’
Adam nodded. ‘He kept his voice low – I don’t think he wanted me to hear, but I had a good idea what it was about, anyway.’ He looked a little uncomfortable.
‘Adam, sometime between when I last saw him alive and when I found him dead, Mr Sim was murdered down in that courtyard, a few yards away from where we now sit; he was left to crawl on the ground in his own blood. His killer then came up the steps and walked up and down this room, opened these presses, scanned these shelves. If anything you saw or heard in here might lead us to the identity of that person, you must tell me.’
The boy looked frightened, for which I was a little sorry, but I had the feeling that soft words might not unlock his tongue. ‘It was not Malcolm Urquhart, Mr Seaton, I am sure of that. He can have a fiery temper, but he would never have done such a thing. ‘
‘What did he want with Mr Sim?’
‘He wanted him to allow him off with the final library payment. He has not the money to pay it, nor any of theother expenses of his graduation. Malcolm has only what his brother can afford to give him, which is very little – he is schoolmaster at Banchory – and some help from the laird of Crathes, who is his brother’s patron. It would have been enough to see him through his studies had Malcolm lived as other poor scholars must.’
‘But he has not, has he?’ I knew Malcolm Urquhart, with all his wit and dangerous charm, had run with the highborn. I had assumed that, just as I had been myself, he had been supported by the family of one of them.
‘He is heavily in debt. He will not graduate if he cannot pay his fees, or persuade the college to wait for them.’
‘Has he gone to the principal yet? Or his regent, even? Dr Dun and Mr Williamson are good men. Malcolm Urquhart would not be the first scholar to find himself unable to pay his fees.’
Adam shook his head. ‘He could not. He was cautioned twice last year, threatened with removal, after being found in a tavern in the Old Town, both times with a woman. He was not … wise … with what money he had, and now he will pay the price. He thought that Mr Sim might have been more lenient with him over the library dues than those who better know his past transgressions and the cause of his misfortunes.’
I remembered the ill-humour in the boy’s mumbled response to my greeting as he had gone past me. ‘I take it Mr Sim did not turn a kindly ear to his plea?’
‘I do not think so, for Malcolm seemed very angry; he –he knocked something from Mr Sim’s hand before making off down the stairs.’
‘Then I hope he has cooled his heels by now, for I intend to talk to him next. Do you know where I might find him at the minute?’
The apprehension in Adam’s eyes turned to genuine surprise.
‘Do you not know, Mr Seaton?’
‘Know what?’
‘Malcolm Urquhart is missing; nobody has seen him since Saturday afternoon.’
EIGHT
The Round Tower
I was glad to get out of the college, away from its damp corners and crumbling walls into the bright sunshine of the June afternoon. The cawing of the gulls, white pennants gliding and curling against the endless blue of the sky, mocked the men moving silently beneath them along the gloomy passageways of our citadel of learning.
‘Will you be back today, Mr Seaton?’ called the porter, as I went past his lodge and out onto the Broadgate.
‘No, Stephen, I do not think so. Why?’
‘Because Dr Dun has told me I am to lock the gates when the bell at the Grayfriar’s Kirk tolls six tonight, and not to open them again before six tomorrow, should even the bishop himself come banging on the doors.’ Such hours were
‘I did. And a foul enough mood he seemed to be in. But Mr Sim did not write his name in the register.’
‘He did not stay. He had not come in to consult a book – he did not even sit down. He only wanted to speak with Mr Sim.’
‘And did he?’
Adam nodded. ‘He kept his voice low – I don’t think he wanted me to hear, but I had a good idea what it was about, anyway.’ He looked a little uncomfortable.
‘Adam, sometime between when I last saw him alive and when I found him dead, Mr Sim was murdered down in that courtyard, a few yards away from where we now sit; he was left to crawl on the ground in his own blood. His killer then came up the steps and walked up and down this room, opened these presses, scanned these shelves. If anything you saw or heard in here might lead us to the identity of that person, you must tell me.’
The boy looked frightened, for which I was a little sorry, but I had the feeling that soft words might not unlock his tongue. ‘It was not Malcolm Urquhart, Mr Seaton, I am sure of that. He can have a fiery temper, but he would never have done such a thing. ‘
‘What did he want with Mr Sim?’
‘He wanted him to allow him off with the final library payment. He has not the money to pay it, nor any of theother expenses of his graduation. Malcolm has only what his brother can afford to give him, which is very little – he is schoolmaster at Banchory – and some help from the laird of Crathes, who is his brother’s patron. It would have been enough to see him through his studies had Malcolm lived as other poor scholars must.’
‘But he has not, has he?’ I knew Malcolm Urquhart, with all his wit and dangerous charm, had run with the highborn. I had assumed that, just as I had been myself, he had been supported by the family of one of them.
‘He is heavily in debt. He will not graduate if he cannot pay his fees, or persuade the college to wait for them.’
‘Has he gone to the principal yet? Or his regent, even? Dr Dun and Mr Williamson are good men. Malcolm Urquhart would not be the first scholar to find himself unable to pay his fees.’
Adam shook his head. ‘He could not. He was cautioned twice last year, threatened with removal, after being found in a tavern in the Old Town, both times with a woman. He was not … wise … with what money he had, and now he will pay the price. He thought that Mr Sim might have been more lenient with him over the library dues than those who better know his past transgressions and the cause of his misfortunes.’
I remembered the ill-humour in the boy’s mumbled response to my greeting as he had gone past me. ‘I take it Mr Sim did not turn a kindly ear to his plea?’
‘I do not think so, for Malcolm seemed very angry; he –he knocked something from Mr Sim’s hand before making off down the stairs.’
‘Then I hope he has cooled his heels by now, for I intend to talk to him next. Do you know where I might find him at the minute?’
The apprehension in Adam’s eyes turned to genuine surprise.
‘Do you not know, Mr Seaton?’
‘Know what?’
‘Malcolm Urquhart is missing; nobody has seen him since Saturday afternoon.’
EIGHT
The Round Tower
I was glad to get out of the college, away from its damp corners and crumbling walls into the bright sunshine of the June afternoon. The cawing of the gulls, white pennants gliding and curling against the endless blue of the sky, mocked the men moving silently beneath them along the gloomy passageways of our citadel of learning.
‘Will you be back today, Mr Seaton?’ called the porter, as I went past his lodge and out onto the Broadgate.
‘No, Stephen, I do not think so. Why?’
‘Because Dr Dun has told me I am to lock the gates when the bell at the Grayfriar’s Kirk tolls six tonight, and not to open them again before six tomorrow, should even the bishop himself come banging on the doors.’ Such hours were
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