Arthur Upfield - Battling Prophet

“I hurried along, and he seemed to hurry too. I don’t know what made me do it, but I stopped and looked at him. He was about a hundred yards away. He stopped too. I called out and asked him who he was. He didn’t answer, and I walked back to see him more clearly. And he went back too. When I turned and came on, he turned and followed me again.

“I came to the turn-off at the bridge and followed the track to this cottage, and the man stopped at the bridge and lit a cigarette. I thought, I’m all right now, and I walked the track beside the trees and came to the patch of scrub. As I was passing the scrub, suddenly I saw another man. He was standing behind a bush, but I could see his head above the top of the bush. He was very still. It was then that I took to my heels and bolted, coward that I am.”

“Sure that the man behind the bush wasn’t the man who followed you down the highway?” Bony asked.

“Positive. There must have been two of them.”

“Could you describe them?”

“Well, the man who followed me on the road seemed to be tall. He was wearing a raincoat and…”

“Pardon. A raincoat! Could you distinguish the coat?”

“No. It was the shape of the man that told me he was wearing a belted coat. The other one, the one behind the bush, was shorter, I think. Not much taller than I am. Both wore hats.”

“Could you hear the man walking on the hard road?”

“Yes.”

“Anything peculiar in the sound of his footsteps?”

“Well, yes, there was. The sounds didn’t come evenly. I know! He was slightly lame.”

“Anything more about them?”

“No, Bony.”

“Tell us about Dr. Linke.”

“I was in the office when Carl came in from the recording instruments. It would be about a quarter to three. He… he threw a kiss to me and went to his desk to transfer the readings to the graph charts. A little after three I put the kettle on the stove and we had afternoon tea as usual about half-past three. I’m afraid we loitered.”

“Loitering can be very pleasant, Jessica. Go on, please.”

“I am telling you this because it was much later when I realised I ought to have noticed the time. So it must have been after four o’clock when a car drove up to the office and Carl went to see who it was.

“I heard voices. Carl’s was raised in protest. Then he came in, followed by that man who came to question him when… you know, the Commonwealth Investigation man. There was another man with them. Carl said he had to go away for a day or two, and the two men went with him to his room.

“I peeped through the front door at the car. It looked like a police car, but I took the number. There was a man in the driver’s seat, and I think I’ve seen him before. Then the two other men and Carl came along the side of the office. Carl was carrying his suitcase. I watched them get into the car and drive away…”

“The man who accompanied the Commonwealth Investigation fellow-was he tall and large, with stiff greying hair and a stiff grey moustache?” Bony asked.

“Yes. Yes, he had hair and moustache like that.”

Bony chuckled, and said:

“The ironis growing hot. That would be Superintendent Boase. As a lady character I once met would say: ‘Well, I never!’ Dr. Linke carted off for questioning! Mysterious men trailing his fiancee! Inspector Bonaparte unwarrantably ordered home from the front line!‘Well, I never.’ So I shall now handle this situation in the best traditions of the private eye. A snort of Bourbon, brother, while I check my shooter. I’ll soon fix those guys. Nothin’ to it.”

A Fine Night

‘PRIVATEEYE’ NAPOLEONBONAPARTEwent below to dress, and emerged in dark clothes, a black silk scarf displacing the white collar, and wearing black canvas shoes.

He sipped a second cup of coffee minus the brandy, smiled at Jessica Lawrence, and rolled a cigarette while waiting for Mr. Luton. A moment later, Mr. Luton came in with a double-barrelled shot-gun and a box of cartridges. He had switched off the light in the kitchen-living-room and closed the door.

“I shall be gone less than an hour,” Bony told them. “On my return, I shall announce myself before you admit me. That point clear?”

Mr. Luton nodded, and loaded the shot-gun.

“Under no circumstances will you open the door to anyone save me, no matter if the person is known to you by his voice, and no matter what he says, such as ‘Police here,’ or ‘Open in the name of the Law!’ You will not so much as answer him. Clear?”

Mr. Luton snapped the breech shut and again nodded.

“I want both of you to sit quietly in this room and do nothing until you hear my voice. Should anyone begin to break in, make no effort to dissuadehim. Let him gain entry, and then point your gun at him. You will be very nervous by then, and the gun will go off. Guns go off without triggers being pulled, in most criminal cases. Guns are always blameworthy; the criminal never. Your gun will go off; you will be blameless. But see to it that, at the precise moment your gun is discharged, it points in the true direction.”

“You mean that, Bony?” exclaimed Jessica Lawrence.

“Absolutely. Mr. Luton is still suffering from damage to his knees. Now listen, Mr. Luton.”

The plan of exit being unfolded, Mr. Luton accompanied Bony to the living-room, closing the door to the sitting-room behind them. The living-room was then in total darkness. The inside bolt and the lock on the back door having been oiled, neither the bolt nor the key made noticeable noise and, inch by inch, Bony drew the door inward, slowly letting inside the comparatively bright moonlight.

With the door half-opened, he stood listening. The wind was still strong. The clouds continued to race across the moon, so that one minute he could see the kennels at the bottom of thegarden, and at the next could barely distinguish the door of the meat-house.

The two dogs were standing, and only slightly moving. As it was cold, they should have been inside their kennels. They were not at peace, and they were not alarmed. They were merely suspicious. There were no sounds from the day-loving birds, who were obviously asleep, and when a night-loving owl fluttered above the bordering trees, the picture was complete, andits meaning plain.

There was no one in the vicinity of the house.

Outside, Bony paused to hear the soft snip of the bolt being shot home. The key he didn’t hear being turned by Mr. Luton, who would then cross the dark living-room to enter the illumined sitting-room wherewaited the girl. Thus no silhouettes.

When the moon was masked, Bony walked the garden path to the kennels. The dogs saw him coming, wagged tails, refrained from barking, and contented themselves withwingeing their pleasure. He made a fuss of them, gave each a sweet biscuit, and climbed the rear fence to gain the trees and scrub which, either side of the house, formed a wide border to the river.

Here the moonlight was appreciably reduced. He turned up-river, and roughly followed a line parallel with the path to Knocker Harris’s camp. Progress was slow, for the bush was thick and spiny, and progress had to be silent.

Eventually he saw the light, a mere pin-hole in the dark canvas. He paused to glance at his watch. Four minutes to ten. Finally he could see the edges of the aperture through which the light was coming, and even then he could not see the outlines of Knocker’s house. He did hear voices. Knocker entertained a visitor.

There were so many holes and cracks in Knocker’s abode that to eavesdrop would be easy, were it not for the midget Australian terrier. Bony was not that anxious to over-hear what was being discussed, but he did want to see the visitor.