Arthur Upfield - The Mountains have a Secret

It was important to locate where the hands were quartered and their approximate number. It was vitally important to have the entire plan of the place in his mind that he might move quickly if speed of action was essential. That done, he could proceed to contact the girls and get them out of the house and into a place of safety. They had to come first, and of that there could be no argument.

The languorous wind whispered to the orange trees and the smaller shrubs. The stars gleamed like sequins on a woman’s velvet dress. A black and shapeless shape moved swiftly along the darkened side of the house, passed round it, flitted on to pause before a lighted window, broke into rapid movement, and slipped up into a flowering gum tree. From the gum tree Bony could gaze into a large kitchen.

Both girls had changed into blue linen house-frocks. One was polishing glasses, the other washing dishes. They were talking and they were alone. They talked without smiling and yet without sulkiness. Red Head was still indignant, Brunette still pleading.

Bony had yet to master the plan of the homestead, but he was tempted to knock upon the window and urge the girls to escape with him. The opportunity, however, although appearing favourable, was not felt to be so in view of all the other aspects of this new development.

Having finished the chores, the girls came to stand near the window, where they linked arms as though gaining comfort by the affectionate contact, talking earnestly, the one soothing the outraged nerves of the other. They stood thus for several moments, when the butler appeared, armed with an oversize flashlight.

Beckoning with his head, he marched out, followed by the girls.

Bony dropped lightly from the tree, hope given him by the flashlight carried by the butler. The shapeless shape danced away from the kitchen window, withdrew a little farther from the house, stopped beyond the next corner that two sides of the house could be watched.

A door was opened on that side opposite to the lawn, and a man issued from it, closing the door behind him. Bony went to ground, searched for, found a sky-line. Along the sky-line he observed the head and shoulders of James Simpson, and Simpson crossed a wide, gravelled space and entered the dark observatory. The next moment a light appeared in a small window high from the ground.

Immediately the light had been switched on inside the observatory, another house door was opened and three figures issued from it. This time, across Bony’s sky-line slid the heads and shoulders of the two girls, followed by that of the butler. His flashlight came on, the beam aimed steadily at the ground about the girls’ feet as they walked over open gravelled space, skirted the observatory, and halted before the door of a small building. After them, like a long-legged tiger cat, skipped Inspector Bonaparte.

The Opening Score

TWICE the butler raised the angle of his flashlight, revealing to Bony that they were crossing a wide gravelled area hemmed by the house, the observatory, the outbuildings, and the stacks of fodder. It was obvious that the two girls had taken this little journey before, because, without direction from their escort, they walked straight to one of the outbuildings.

Before the door of this building they stopped and the man passed them, to throw his light upon the lock, which he proceeded to free. The door was pushed inward. The girls entered, an interior light was switched on, and the butler then relocked the door. When he stalked back to the house, Bony was lying full length at the base of the observatory.

The man having entered the house, Bony crossed to the outbuildings. It was constructed of stone blocks, and it needed no light to inform him that the door was heavy and solid and that it was secured by a bolt kept in place by a padlock of the Yale type.

He could hear the murmuring voices of the inmates, and without making his presence known to them, he circled the building, and so arrived below a small window set high in the wall. The window was open, and the light within revealed thick iron bars bisecting it. Here the voices were louder but the words indistinguishable.

Bony waited until the light went out, and then, reaching up, he began to tap a tattoo upon the window-sill. When nothing happened he so employed his wire sword as the drumstick, and then above the soft tapping came a voice asking who it was.

“A friend,” he called softly. “Don’t put on the light.”

He jumped and caught hold of the lowest bar, pulling himself upward so that his face was above the sill. He could feel the warmth of the room. A vague shape moved just beyond the bars and the sound of quick breathing played upon his ears.

“Are you Mavis Sanky and Beryl Carson?” he whispered.

An exclamation, and then steadily:

“Yes. Who are you? What do you want?”

“Well, for one thing, I want to get you out. I presume you would like to be free. As I told you, I’m a friend-and a policeman. I want you to answer my questions as shortly as possible because time is vital.”

“All right.”

“Tell me how many hands are employed here?”

“Seven.”

“Whereabouts are they quartered, do you know?”

“Two, no, three buildings from here. On my right. But they’ll be over at the house with the Bensons and their visitors.”

“The hands were not at table with the company this evening?” Bony queried.

“Oh yes, they were. All of them excepting the two who are away. They’re not real stockmen.”

“I didn’t think so. When are the absent two expected back, d’you know?”

“Tonight,” replied a different voice. “I heard Heinrich ask Mr. Benson, and he said they should have been back from Dunkeld before it was dark. They’re not stockmen, as Mavis said. They’re all foreigners, excepting the Bensons and that man from the hotel.”

“And you were abducted, were you not?”

“Yes,” indignantly. “They were waiting for us on the road-after we left the hotel. They forced us into a car and we fought them, so they chloroformed us or something. The last thing I remember was seeing that old yardman at the hotel looking out from behind some bushes. We were brought here and compelled to work for Miss Benson.”

“We refused, of course,” said the other girl, and when Bony asked what then happened, her voice was vibrant with anger. “They whipped us. They tied our hands together round a post. She was there and counted the strokes. Heinrich did it with a whip with lots of thongs on it. Ten strokes that woman counted for each of us. We went on strike again a few weeks after that and got fifteen strokes that time. We daren’t refuse to work after that, scrubbing and washing and waiting at table for the beasts.”

“Oh, please get us out of here. Smash the door down or something.”

“No, Beryl, not that. They would hear. Mister-out there-you might get the key of the door bolt. It’s hanging on a nail just inside the side door.”

“The door by which you left the house?” Bony asked.

“Yes, that’s the door. Will you try to get it?”

“I won’ttry to get it,” Bony said. “I’ll just get it. Now you dress and wait for me. I may not return for an hour, but be patient. Now tell me. What’s going on here?”

“We don’t know. It’s something inside the observatory. They hold a kind of service over there, generally at night. They’re going to have a service tonight. Yes, there’s the organ.”

“Who attends the service?”

“Everyone who’s here.”

“What about this Heinrich man?”

“Oh, he goes too. Serves them with drinks and refreshments.”

“How long does the service continue?” Bony pressed.

“Two hours at least. Sometimes much longer.”