Arthur Upfield - Man of Two Tribes

While he and Brennan were blocking the passage with boulders to fit, so that the small dog could not get through, Bony felt himself unduly crowded. He had not informed the others of the danger he foresaw if the water continued to rise, lest panic should destroy effort. He was anxious to learn the escape route of the dog, anxious that the others should not know of it until they were fully prepared for what waited for them on the Nullarbor Plain. If without such preparation they gained freedom, the result would be more devastating to morale than panic at the threat of rising water. He said to Brennan:

“Did Mitski ever say how long these noises continued after Fiddler fell?”

“Didn’t really know,” replied Brennan, grunting as he rolled a boulder. “Like us, since Myra broke her watch, Mitski didn’t have the time with him. He did say he guessed the racket went on for about twenty-four hours.”

The noises ceased for approximately two hours when Bony judged it to be mid-day, and began again when they were eating what Dr. Havant called luncheon. Each glanced nervously at the others, and Bony said loudly to make himself heard:

“It’s like a lot of drowning men, isn’t it?”

“Please, Inspector!” pleaded Clifford Maddoch.

A minute later, Bony said, with a realistic shiver:

“I wonder if Mitski is struggling to come back to accuse his murderer.”

“Caw!” shouted Jenks. “Cut it out, Inspector. Gives me the willies.”

And Maddoch screamed: “Yes, yes, cut it out. It’s gruesome.”

Maddoch stopped his cars with his fingers. Havant regarded everyone in turn, a faint derisive smile on his chalk-white face. Brennan’s eyes were closed tightly, and Riddell sat hunched, still and waiting. In the archway to the kitchen the girl stood tautly, as though expecting Mitski to appear among them.

The rumbling, the moans, the gulping, stopped abruptly. The ensuing silence was even more harrowing. Then came one long loud crash and another silence. From the silence came Bony’s voice:

“Sounds like Mitski pushing down the wall Brennan and I built. He could be coming from the Jeweller’s Shop.”

Maddoch moaned and shivered. The others made no soundwhatsoever, sitting like men whose breath would never again be released.

Then pandemonium engulfed them. Their ears were bombarded. The rock on which they sat shuddered. From nowhere the dog raced upon Bony and buried her head in his lap. Maddoch seized the canvas tablecloth and wrapped it about his head.

Bony Addresses TheR.M. I.

SOMEWHATruefully this time Bony sat back and watched the thaw of icy fear. Brennan’s eyes moved as though by great effort. Riddell wetted his upper lip with the tip of his tongue, his eyes closed, one hand beginning to unclench. Jenks fumbled in his pocket for tobacco, and the girl moved her gaze from one to the other as though she had never before seen them. Dr. Havant appeared the least affected; he was still smiling as though at a joke none would understand.

Bony waited. His contribution to the build-up of Igor Mitski’s return had not borne fruit. Mitski’s murderer had not broken, and only Clifford Maddoch had almost reached breaking point.

Myra Thomas’s next act was unexpectedly normal. She came forward and proceeded to gather the eating utensils scattered when Maddoch snatched up the ‘tablecloth’. Tin plate meeting tin pannikin was a familiar sound, and this brought the men back to a degree of animation.

Maddoch removed the canvas cloth and looked stupidly about. Terror on his face was like a waxen mask which the sun of silence began swiftly to melt. His lungs expanded to take in air, and expelled the long deep breath. Jenks said:

“How did you like it, Cliff?”

“It was… My wife was like that… between her fits… as she was dying. I couldn’t stand it… again. Will it come again? Will it?”

Dr. Havant chuckled. He addressed Bony.

“Although the stage props were magnificent, Inspector, the resurrection of our departed friend was too overwhelming-which is to be regretted. It leaves our double certificated murderer still hidden.”

“My compliments on your acute perception,” Bony said, coldly. “Meanwhile, the problem of escape is now paramount.”

“Gettin’ out’s the main thing, and that ruddy dog knows how,” Riddell said importantly. “Why crawl about getting backache andneckache when all we need do is loll around and eye the dog. She won’t stop running in and out ’coswe happen to be watching her.”

Jenks, the only one who had made determined efforts to break out, suggested that the dog should be tied to someone.

“We must remember,” Bony told them, “that Lucy isn’t a town dog, even though she is a United Nations. At least one of her ancestors was a pure bred dingo.

“Many of these bush-bred dogs are close to pure dingo, and, aware that their first litter was destroyed, will hide their pups so cleverly that they never appear until she permits them. You won’t locate the pups by tying a string from their collar to your ankle, or be led tothem, if the dog has the faintest suspicion you are watching her. You must watch her without her knowing it, and that is not easy. You must not make a fuss of her more than usual. To sum up. If you rush this dog she’ll stay put and laugh at you.”

“The barrier idea is best,” Havant said. “Let us extend it. If she gets out this evening we shall know she didn’t go by way of the blow-hole passage or beyond the Jeweller’s Shop. We shall then station ourselves at various points to await her return-waiting up for the errant daughter.”

“Lot of common in that,” contributed Jenks. “She’s got to give herself away some time, the sooner the better. I’ve had this ruddy joint, and there’s times when I reckon I can’t standno more of it.”

“It won’t be much longer, Jenks,” Havant said, confidently, as the tough ex-sailor seemed about to break down. “Now isn’t the time to abandon hope, but to permit it to revitalise our flagging spirits. As you have just mentioned, the dog will show us a way out eventually. And then…”

“And then I’mgonna hunt the swine who put us down here,” Jenks said with the solemnity of a Crusader taking the vow. “Once I get me hands on one of ’emI’ll be like the Irish terrier I had. I’llnevernever let go. Was it theGov’ment put us down here?”

“Certainly not,” Bony replied. “Who was instrumental in placing you people down here, I don’t know-yet.”

“Got any notionswho it might be, Inspector? You been full of questions. You answer some. Answer that one.”

“Theorising is often useless,” temporised Bony.

“Yair! But a bloke can have some satisfaction inthinkin ’ what he’ll do to them who put him here.”

“That’s the idea, Ted,” purred the girl. “Meanwhile you could fill the stove with kero, and fetch water. I’ve an urge to do some baking this afternoon.”

“That stove wants more kero?” Jenks snarled, getting to his feet. “Damn it, it eats oil.”

“Please yourself. You’re the boss,” she snapped. “No stove, no bread, nothing.”

“Pity someone couldn’t boss you, you slut,” yelled Jenks, and Brennan came charging from the kitchen.

“That’ll do! Stop it!” shouted Bony. They coagulated like drying blood, and their furious eyes were ensnared by his. “Sit down, all of you. D’youhear? Sit down.” Jenks cringed, turned to sit on a blanket. Brennan smiled sneeringly, and obeyed. The girl turned to go back to her kitchen, and Bony lashed her.“You, too, Myra. Or didn’t you hear me?”

Turning, she regarded him superciliously and continued on her way. Brennan said, grit in his drawling voice: