Arthur Upfield - Venom House

Smiling proudly at his audience, he turned to the fireplace and took up the heavy poker. This he bent to a U, with no muscular strain evinced on his face. He chuckled as he straightened the poker. Replacing it, he walked on his hands to Bony and retreated to the nearer window. Standing, he proceeded to bend forward to touch the floor with finger-tips keeping his legs straight. He kept this going for five minutes, and might have continued indefinitely with the next exercise had not Bony motioned him to stop.

How many hours a day, and for how many years, had this boy-man thus whiled away in this room from which he had escaped but once? Coming to stand before Bony, he asked, hopefully:

“Well? What do you think?”

“Remarkable,” replied Bony.

“One day I shall be stronger than Mary.”

“And you will snap her neck like a carrot?”

“If Janet tells me to. She won’t, of course. She doesn’t mean me to. She was only joking. She said so.”

“Of course. Have you been here long?” asked Bony.

“Yes. I’ve always been here. Excepting once. It was glorious.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You would really like me to? Then I will. One night, Janet forgot to bolt the door, and I crept downstairs and went out. It was dark, but the stars were bright, and I could see. I went to the water, and I boarded the boat and pushed it about with an oar. Then I didn’t want to do any pushing, so I sat and watched the water and the stars lying down in it. After a long time I pushed to land, and I walked in the grass and found a little lamb. I had a little nurse of the lamb, and then I found another one and a lot of mother sheep.

“It was growing light then, and I ran about on my hands and knees and baa-ed like the little lambs, and the lambs came running to me, so I nursed them again. They liked it, too. It was good fun. Then I saw Mary coming, and she was vexed with me, and she brought me home and then she beat me until I went to sleep. When I woke up, I was very sore, and Janet was here. She was crying and she said I had been a very wicked boy, and that I must never do that again.”

“And you never did?” Bony asked, softly.

Solemnly, Morris Answerth shook his head.

“No. I never dared. And Janet didn’t leave the door unbolted. If she had done, I might have dared, you know. It was such fun playing with those little lambs.” The wistful smile vanished. The cunning returned, and the mouth was twisted into a leer. “Some day I’ll be stronger than Mary, and then I’ll go over the water again and play with the lambs. And if Mary tries to beat me, I’ll snap her neck like a carrot.”

“How do you know carrots snap?”

“Oh, Mother told me. Mother cried when Mary beat me. It was Mother who told me to do the exercises. She showed me how to. Mother told me that if I kept on with the exercises I’d grow so strong that if I wanted to go over the water and play with the little lambs Mary would not be able to stop me.”

“Does Janet know your mother told you to do the exercises?”

“Oh, no, and you mustn’t tell Janet.”

“But Janet knows you are strong and becoming stronger?”

“Yes, she knows that. She watches me take my bath twice a week. She can’t trust me to wash my neck properly.”

“Your mother, of course, comes to see you every day?”

“She used to come, and then one day Janet told her she was a bad influence over me, and after that she came only now and then, and Janet always came with her.” Morris chuckled, and the leer returned. “But Mother thought of a way to talk to me. She’d come and lie down outside the door, and I’d lie down inside and we’d talk in whispers under the door. Mother hates Mary and Janet, and they hate her. And Janet hates Mary. All of them tell me so, but I never tell what they tell me. You won’t, will you?”

“Of course, I won’t. By the way, where did you obtain the fishing-line?”

“Oh! Oh, I don’t know. It just came here with some pieces of string Janet brought when I wanted to mend something. I have great fun with it when I don’t use it for a fishing-line. I got it from the books Mary brought me to read. I can read and do sums. Mother showed me how to read and do sums, you know.”

“Good!” encouraged Bony. “Tell me about the fun you have.”

“You would really like to see?”Again the pathetic smile. “I’ll find the books and show you.”

Morris Answerth crossed to the bookcase, Bony following. There were piles of children’s adventure stories and comics, and Morris chose one pile dealing with the adventures of “Clarry, the Cowboy of Bar-O-One”.

“Clarry never misses with his lasso,” he explained, flicking open a number to find a picture of the redoubtable Clarry. “When he draws his six-gun, you know, he always shoots the villain. They won’t let me have a six-gun, but I made a lasso, and I’m as good as Clarry. Like to see me?”

“You won’t lasso me, will you?” Bony protested, and Morris laughingly promised to refrain.

From an old sandalwood chest Morris Answerth brought forth a long length of electric wiring flex, one end of which was attached to his large magnet. Removing the magnet, he shook the flex loosely over the floor revealing that the other end had been bound into a small loop. Running the now free end through the loop Morris had his lasso.

Standing away from the mantel, he lassoed the cloisonne vase, and, the woodwork about the vase being discoloured, Bony approached to observe that it was actually caused by the incessant blows of the lasso.

The tops of the side posts of the throne chair had also lost their veneer and the carved wood was worn by the continuous thrashing they had been given by the lasso before the thrower had become proficient.

With extraordinary and apparent carelessness, Morris lassoed the chair from every angle, including backward over his head.

There was a plaster bust of George Washington on top of the bookcase. This he lassoed about the neck and flicked it towards him, catching it that it might not smash on the floor. He set his train in motion on its circular track and lassoed the engine. Did it twice to prove the first cast was not a fluke. And as he worked, his face was lit by enthusiasm as though he were, indeed, the great Clarry himself.

Bony applauded, one hand behind him grasping the door handle. Morris Answerthrecoiled his lasso and came forward. Now he was smiling.

“You try,” he urged.

Softly laughing, Bony told him he would have to go.

“Another time I’d like to very much,” he said. “You will have to teach me. Now I must be going, but I’ll come again. Would you like me to?”

“Oh, indeed, I would. I’m sorry you have to go. What is your name?” Bony told him, and he smiled happily. “Well, good-bye, Bony. You won’t forget to come and see me again, will you?”

“No, I will not forget, Morris.”

The man-boy held out his hand, and Bony accepted it. He expected a crippling grip: he was given a gentle pressure. Morris stepped back. They both smiled. Bony opened the door and backed out… slowly… still smiling at the smiling Morris Answerth, who stood leaning against the great table, with the coiled lasso of flex dangling from one great hand.

Keeper of the Rat House

JANETANSWERTHWASwaiting for him in the hall, and the golden light from the stained-glass window added to the lustre of her hair and tinted her face with gold dust.

“Morris was all right. Inspector? Not violent?”

“Your brother was rational. Miss Answerth,” he assured her.

“I’m so glad. What did he say? Did he say anything about poor Mother?”

“He interested me with his train, and his fishing-line with a magnetic hook.”