Arthur Upfield - The Devil_s Steps

“Make it three for peace sake,” pleaded Lee.

“My dear fellow, I have been magnanimous by declaring the limit at two,” countered Downes in such tones that Lee offered no further argument.

Downes crossed to the bell push, summoning the steward, and Alice entered the lounge with her tray.

“What is that place actually like-you know, that place you were telling us about last night where Sleeman wanted to go round on his hands and knees with Bagshott, the author?” asked Downes of Bony.

“Wanaaring!”Bony smiled broadly. “Well, like the majority of outback townships, Wanaaring has fallen sadly from its state of affluence back in the days of old. Why Bagshott should have chosen Wanaaring, I don’t know. Many roads converge upon Wanaaring, which is a centre for surrounding pastoral properties. And, of course, station people and station hands all have a thirst to quench when they visit the township.”

“Howwould Bagshott get there-if he did go?” pressed Dowries.

“By car he would go to Mildura, then up the Darling River to Wilcannia and from Wilcannia to the northwest viaMomba and several other stations, the names of which I forget.”

“Hum!” murmured Downes. “You know, that jaunt is becoming slightly attractive. I’ve never been up in the real bush. I’ve got a good mind to buy a car and go and see it. Bagshott writes fairly clearly about it.”

The subject held them until Sleeman awoke, when Downes and Bony rose with the intention of retiring to their rooms. They left Lee with Sleeman, and Sleeman was pushing the bell for Alice. They said good night to each other outside their rooms, Downes occupying a room farther along the passage. It was then five minutes to eleven.

At a quarter past eleven, Bony switched off his light and sat in his chair. He waited there for some fifteen minutes, and then soundlessly eased up a window and climbed over the sill into the dark night. He had discarded his evening clothes and instead of the white shirt and collar he wore a blue woollen scarf. Instead of dress shoes, he wore black canvas tennis shoes.

He had no set purpose in leaving the house this early and by his bedroom window, although he did have a purpose which he intended executing much later.

Bisker’s rough plan of the house and outbuildings had been most thoroughly done, and by now Bony had memorised all its details. With the main bedrooms and public rooms, of course, he was already familiar, and only a little less so with the staff’s sleeping quarters, the store-rooms, and the purpose for which every outbuilding was used.

Having climbed through his bedroom window, he found himself in a left angle of the main building, the angle formed by the bedrooms occupied by the staff-the wine-store, the pantry and the linen room occupying the apex of the angle.

There were no lights in any of the guest rooms on that, the upper side of the building, but there was a light in the cook’s room which was at the far end of the staff’s quarters. In the darkness he was invisible, for there were low clouds on the mountain. He moved round the end of the staff’s quarters and so came to Bisker’s wood-stack containing something like a hundred tons. Passing behind this, he then crossed the roadway leading out through that gate by which Constable Rice had come down from the Police Station. After crossing this roadway, he skirted the rear of the several garages until he came to the rear of Bisker’s hut.

There was no light from within. Softly he opened the door, when Bisker’s presence was instantly betrayed by his snoring. As quietly, he closed the door. With the blind down, the interior of the hut was several degrees darker than the dark night without, but without difficulty, he crossed to the bed, found the wooden case upon which were the alarm clock, the two pipes, tobacco and knife and matches, the corkscrew and the hurricane lamp. He reached for and found Bisker’s shoulder beneath blankets, and gently and persistently patted it until the man awoke.

“It’s me, Bonaparte! Don’t speak loudly,” he whispered, and Bisker, having begun to demand who it was, obeyed.

“Wot’sup! Doings?” he asked.

“No, everything is all right. I want to talk to you for a little while. Won’t keep you long. When did George leave?”

“He went on the half-past threebus. Promised he’d come back tomorrow morning.”

“Did he tell you why he wanted to go?”

“Yes,” replied Bisker. “Said he wanted to meet a cobber off a shipwot’s in port only three days.”

“Did you see him leave?”

“Yes.”

“How was he dressed?”

“Pretty flash. Trilby ’at, navy-blue double-breastersuit and all.”

“Were you close to him at any time?”

“Close as I am to you right now. Why?”

“Did his clothes smell of moth repellent?”

“Can’t say as ’owI noticed it,” Bisker replied.

“All right! We’ll leave that. Have you ever been inside the wine-store?”

“Yes, plenty of times, carrying in cased liquor, and sometimes taking out empties.”

Further questioning informed Bony that the wine-store was fairly large, in area about twenty by ten feet. It had once been used as a bar, but the practice of allowing guests to drink there had been stopped twelve months before. The stocks of wines, spirits and beer, according to Bisker, were always maintained at a high level. And the door was fitted with a Yale lock, whilst on the inside of the window there were thick iron bars.

“George has a key, I suppose?” Bony asked.

“Yes, that’s so.”

“Would he have handed over the key to Miss Jade or the secretary before he went off, do you think?”

“I couldn’t say. Expect so-just in case he nevercome back.”

“But he would surely return for his belongings?”

“Of course. I didn’t think of that.”

“Have you any reason to think he will not return?”

“No. I only spoke general like.”

“All right! Now one more question. What kind of lock is fitted to George’s bedroom door?”

“Just an ordinary lock. ’Is room’s the one next to the wine-store.”

“Next to his is an empty room containing lumber, and then two maids’ rooms and finally the cook’sroom. Am I right?”

“All correct, Mr. Bonaparte.” Bisker wanted to ask questions, but remembered Bony’s admonition and remained silent. As Bony did not speak again, after a silence lasting three minutes, he did put a question:

“Can I lend a ’and atanythink?”

“If you’d like to, I believe I could make use of you.”

“Do me. I can dress in the dark.”

“Good! Before you do, did you see Mr. Downes come back?”

“Yes, and seen ’imgo off.”

“Did he return with the same people with whom he went away?”

“The same man. There was only the one man who drove the car. He arrived about half-past two and they came back just before nine. The car was a Studebaker. The bloke driving it was a little man. He sent me in to tell Mr. Downes that Mr. Jackson was come to see ’im.”

“And this Mr. Jackson didn’t go into the house at all?”

“No. ’E stayed in the car.”

“Good. Now for Mr. Leslie. Did you see him go out after dinner tonight?”

“Yes. ’E left shortly after eight. ’E went down the drive to the main road. Inever seen ’imcome back, though.”

“What about Miss Jade?”

“She went to bed early. I was in the kitchen round about nine ’avinga last drink ofcorfee when the old cat came in to tell Alice she was going to bed witha ’eadacheand that Alice was to lock up the wine-store punctually at eleven and go to bed.”

“Hum! Well, I think we have got everyone tabbed, Bisker. Get up and dress, and don’t talk. I am going to put you on sentry-go at the wood-stack to watch the scullery door. And I don’t want any talking after we leave here.”