Arthur Upfield - Battling Prophet

Someone called from outside the house, and Bony pushed the door to the living-room almost shut. He heard the scrape of a chair and the door being opened to admit Knocker Harris.

“Good day-ee, John! How’s things?” came the usual greeting in the nasal whine of the first settlers, handed down to the fourth generation.“Day-ee, Miss!”

“Meet my niece from Melbourne, Miss McGorr,” persuaded Mr. Luton. “Alice, this is an old friend who lives up-river a bit. The name’s Harris, but we all call him ‘Knocker’ ’coshe knocks everything down that tries to get up.”

The introduction was acknowledged, and Knocker said:

“FromMelbun, eh? Long time ago when I was there… year that Sister Olive won theMelbun Cup. So you came to visit your uncle, like. Close one, your uncle. Never told me anything about you.”

“There’slots I never told you about,” countered Mr. Luton, and then raised his voice: “And don’t try to make me out a liar.”

“Iain’tsayin ’ you’re a liar, John.”

“Well, don’t.”

“I’m sure Mr. Harris and I will get along,” soothingly interjected Alice. “You live up the river a little way, Mr. Harris? We’ll probably see more of each other.”

“Too right,” agreed Knocker with no enthusiasm. “Well, John, don’t suppose you want me hanging around, like. Pension Dayto-morrer, and I thought you might want something.”

“You can fetch me a bottle of them kidney pills. I’ve just about run out of gin. And order me a double issue of bread while you’re in there. I’ll get the money.”

“Youstayin ’ long, Miss?” Harris asked, and Bony detected an underlying note of unease.

“Maybe a week,” replied Alice.“Might be a month. See how I like being here, and how uncle behaves himself.”

“Why I’maskin ’ is becausethere’s some funny goings-on around here, like,” explained Knocker.“What with a blokearrangin ’ to come back for bait, and his car being burned up. Andme dog sort ofrunnin ’ aboutsniffin ’ all the time, like he got a burr up his nose. And three menpretendin ’ they’refishin ’ with their boat anchored on a sand-drift only a foot under surface. And there’s John here keeping his kitchen door locked of a morning, like.”

“Don’t be a crying fool, Knocker,” shouted Mr. Luton. “I’d just got back from a walk to look-see that burned car when my niece arrived and we come in the front door. I don’t rush about throwing open the doors andflingin ’ up the winderssoon’s I get home again. And what’s wrong with them three men fishing off a boat? What sort of boat?”

“Open deck motor-boat, like. You can’t tell me they’d catch a fish in a foot of water over a sand-drift. Anyhow, I watched ’emgoing up-river, and they hardly know how to steer the boat. Theywasn’tfishin ’, like. Theywas keeping an eye on this house. Seems like there’s no end to thisespinage. You had word from the Inspector since he went away?”

“Not yet. But he’ll write sometime if hedon’t come back for more fishing.

“Well, I suppose I’d better beshovin ’ off, like. You look after your uncle, Miss. He wantsfeedin ’ up, like, at times when heain’t so well. I done me best.”

Bony heard the door closed. Alice said:

“That’s my cue to go ahead with the cooking, Uncle. What have you got on hand for lunch?”

Alice ThinksIt’s Fun

MR. LUTON’Sreactions to Alice McGorr ultimately balanced in her favour. He disapproved of her smoking. He disapproved of her taking complete control of his kitchen-living-room. He wasn’t quite in favour of being called ‘uncle’. Oppositely, he did like her direct approach in conversation. He did like the way she dressed her blonde hair in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, because he was reminded of the days when he was young, and he did like her brown eyes, which could be so expressive of warmth and intelligence. It was a great pity that her chin was negligible. And as he listened with her to Bony’s outline of past events in and about his cottage, he came to admire the manner in which she received the story.

“I am sure, Mr. Luton,” Bony continued smoothly, “you are in agreement that the position as it has developed is, shall we say, delicate. We are living in darkness, and all we have seen are shadowy figures best described perhaps as ‘sinister’. I am confident you won’t take umbrage at what I am going to say-that Alice will be completely able to meet all contingencies.

“When I returned from Adelaide, I considered it necessary to lie low, like Brer Rabbit, and just wait on events. Since then, however, I have found that I must have greater freedom and at the same time be assured of your personal safety.”

“I can well look after myself,” Mr. Luton protested.

“Of course, Mr. Luton. By the way, is thatembrocation doing any good to your knees?”

“It is so. I better get some more from Knocker. Hey!” The old man smiled ruefully. “All right, Inspector. I can’t win.”

“This house might be attacked front and back at the same time, and the attack might not take the form of gun-play. It might be a matter of being compelled to answer questions, and, because the attackers will be men, let us say, like Boase and Sergeant Maskell, such questions can more quickly be defeated by a woman than by a man. You may find that hard to believe.

“I am asking you to remove from your mind the error that Alice is a weak, defenceless young woman you have to protect. This new niece of yours is tough. I heard it said by an authority that ‘when she can’t roll ’em, she bumps ’em, and when she can’t bump ’em, she tosses ’em, and when she can’t toss ’em, she flattens ’em.’ All the tricks she learned from the police experts were mere variations of better ones she knew all about before she joined the Police Department.

“I’m telling you this because should anything rough break loose, you must accept orders from her. She represents the Law, whatever that might mean. She is far more responsible for anything ugly that might happen to you than you could be responsible for anything that happened to her.

“So both of you will act normally as uncle and niece. Lock the doors only at dusk. You will do outside chores and Alice will attend to the cooking and the house. Now and then you may stroll about the garden and see to the hens. At night, keep the dogs chained. All clear?”

“Yes.”

“A final point. When I decided to lie low on my return from Adelaide, it was less to conceal myself from the police than from those who are interested in Ben Wickham’s secrets, and thus encourage them to move. Just now I am reminded of two opposing armies manoeuvring for position.”

When Dr. Maltby called shortly after three that afternoon, Alice was briefed and ready. She opened the front door in answer to his knock, and his surprise was genuine. Heavy and yet agile, his dark eyes moved swiftly over her, and she said politely:

“Well?”

“Who are you?” he asked, and she could see suspicion in his eyes.

“Who am I!” she repeated. “Who the hell are you is more to the point. Whatd’youwant?”

“I came to see Mr. Luton. Is he in?” countered the slightly nettled Maltby.

“Go down one and come on, mister,” snarled Alice. “All I asked you was who you are.”

“The name is Maltby… Doctor Maltby.”

“Oh! I never sent for you. My uncle is all right, so far. Whatd’youwant to see him about?”

Maltby tried to smile. The hard brown eyes and straight brown eyebrows of this person, the small but somehow grim mouth, the direct hostility, were outside his experience as a country doctor.

“I must explain, Miss… Miss…” Alice declined information. “I live at Mount Mario, you know, and often I call just to see how your uncle is getting along. He’s not as young as he was, and all that. Sometimes…er… sometimes…”