Arthur Upfield - The New Shoe

“We have, Mr Penwarden, a bone to pick,” announced Bony, slowly and coldly. “Make yourself easy. Tell me, why did you telephone to Fred Ayling, at the Wessex homestead, after I left you this morning?”

“Fred Ayling wasn’t in it. Mr Rawlings, sir.” The old man sat stiffly upright on his packing case and looked steadily upwards at Bony, who had drawn himself up on the bench. “You must believe that. He wasn’t here when murder was done.”

“Then why tell him I was on my way to question him?”

“I did no such thing. All I told him was that you’d found out about the murder and my part in telling Dick and Eldred what to do about it. I didn’t know you were going along. I never saw you pass. All I said was for him to clear off back, to his camp.”

“Which he did,” Bony said, and contemplated the creaseless face, the blue eyes and the long white hair.

“Let him be, Mr Rawlings, sir. He was allus a good lad, and he were terrible upset about Dick Lake. As Dick would say: ‘I can take it.’ Maybe in the eyes of the law I did wrong, but I’m not sorry. I wasn’tthinkin ’ for Eldred, exceptin ’ he got well away from Split Point and his father and sainted mother, and from Dick Lake and all of us. You arrest me, and leave Fred out of it.”

“What about your wife?”

“The old woman! Oh, she’ll bide quiet till I come back.” Bony said:

“You may be away for ten years. Much too long for you to be away from Mrs Penwarden. Like me, you are not normally a fool. Don’t be a fool again, even although a fool is sometimes wise. I think it likely that my superiors will overlook you in their determination to catch up with Eldred Wessex. We will hope that he has left the country, or that he went to sea and was drowned. My work here is finalized. I found out who the dead man in the Lighthouse was, and who killed him. It is for the Victorian police to find Eldred Wessex. Aided by science and wonderful organization, I am confident that they will find him, perhaps in Adelaide, perhaps in London… anyway, far distant from Split Point.”

He slipped off the bench and Penwarden stood, saying:

“It would be grand, Mr Rawlings, sir, if Eldred did get himself drowned, or something happenedso’s his folk would never know what he did here.”

“I agree,” Bony said. “Now I must be off. I’ll accompany you as far as your house. Don’t worry about yourself, for it’s unlikely you will be bothered by the police. Do we understand each other?”

Anobbly hand gripped Bony’s forearm. A gleam of happiness sprang into the blue eyes, and Penwarden said, earnestly:

“Seems like we’ve allus understood each other, Mr Rawlings, sir.”

They passed outside and Bony waited for the old man to lock up his workshop. Without haste, they walked towards the ancient’s neat little house, the one upright and lithe, the other slightly stooped yet still sturdy on his feet.

“You’ll not go back onacceptin ’ of the coffin, I hope,” said the coffin maker.

“Certainly not. I’ll write giving my home address and nearest railway station… after you have written me what you think of the bloodwood logs. Police Headquarters, Brisbane, will always find me. And when I come again to Melbourne, I’ll try to run down for a little gassing.”

They shook hands. Bonysmiled, his old beaming smile. Penwarden gave his deep-throated chuckle and they stopped outside his garden gate.

“Remember to take a shaving or two from the neck rest,” Bony said. “I showed you just where the rest is a trifle uncomfortable.”

He walked on, and Mr Penwarden tarried at the gate to watch him until he reached the main road.