Arthur Upfield - The Devil_s Steps

“I want the Sub-Inspector, please.”

“Sub-Inspector Mason? Who is it speaking?”

“Never mind the name,” replied Bony. “I’m speaking from the Chalet.”

The S.C. metaphorically jumped.

“Oh! Yes, sir, I’ll get the Sub-Inspector at once.”

The line remained dead for thirty seconds. Then Mason spoke. Bony said softly:

“Can you hear me?” On being told that he could be heard, he went on: “I want you to communicate with the Super, and tell him he can collect both his friend Marcus and a guest here named Sleeman. Marcus’s latest alias is Downes. Get that? I’m leaving it all to the Super.”

“Right! I’ll be along with a couple of men.”

“Wait, Mason,” pleaded Bony. “You will do nothing until you have communicated with Bolt. Remember, the place is full of guests. Remember also that if you lost Marcus, your career would be ruined. None of you know Downes. You’ll have to leave it to me to point him out.”

“H’m! Suppose I would. All right! I’ll contact the Super. Where can we get you in a hurry?”

“I can’t make any arrangement,” Bony said. “You remindthe Super of Marcus’s pal, what’s his name, who lives at Ridge House, down the highway. I suggest that that place is raided efficiently and with speed. Have you seen anything of Bisker? Wait!”

The door of the office was opening.

“Well, thank you,” Bony went on, his voice raised a fraction. Over the telephone he saw Downes standing beyond the opened door. “Yes, I will inform Miss Jade… Yes, thank you so much!”

Bony set down the receiver on the instrument and with his free hand reached for the call handle to contact Exchange.

“Miss Jade has gone to breakfast,” he told Downes.

“Oh!” murmured Downes. “I came in to use the ’phone. Didn’t know you were here. Finished yet?”

“No. But I won’t be long.”

The eyes of Marcus were slightly narrow. He drew back and the door closed. Bony turned the call handle. He was certain that just beyond the door Marcus, alias Downes, was standing, and that the door was such that Downes could hear what he would say into the telephone in a normal voice. When Exchange answered, he requested to be put through to the Bus Service proprietor, and of him enquired if it was known where the man Fred was working, purposely lowering his voice.

The information was not available. From the reception hall came the voices of several guests, and Bony became sure that Downes would not remain just beyond the door, if he had done so after leaving the office. Still, he waited whilst rolling a cigarette, and then passed out of the office and, seeing nothing of Downes, strolled out through the main entrance and so up to the top gate.

On the soft sludge between the Chalet roadway and the macadamised public road he saw the imprints of Bisker’s boots, showing that he was headed down the road to the highway.

Bony continued at a leisurely pace down the road to its junction with the highway. There he paused to admire the view, now and then turning to glance up that side road he had just come down. He saw nothing of Downes.

Standing there, he saw no human being either up or down the highway, and continuing to stroll, he walked up along the highway. He was midway between the side road’s junction with the highway and the wayside fruit stall when he heard a car coming along behind him. The car was travelling fast, and before it reached him, he stepped casually off the road and leaned against the trunk of a magnificent mountain ash. As the car approached he stepped farther back, ready to leap behind the great trunk at the first sign of attack. There was only the driver, however, and he failed to see Bony.

Bony stepped out to the centre of the road, and there with his hands clasped behind him, he stood staring upward at the mighty tree. The dwindling roar of the car was the only sound in the stillness of the sylvan scene. After a little period spent in admiration of the tree, he proceeded on along the highway, now and then turning casually to look back.

On coming to the fruit stall, not yet opened for business, Bony took the side road falling in a fairly steep gradient and rule-straight. This road was surfaced with gravel, and along its right side there was a path for pedestrians. And there on that path were the tracks made by Bisker’s boots.

Those marks brought Bony profound relief, for it was evident that when he made those marks with his boots, Bisker was on his way to visit his friend, Fred. Bony began to hum a little tune. He walked a little faster, and had proceeded about halfway down the road when he observed two figures emerge from the bordering trees at its bottom and stand in the centre of the road.

“Now that would be about where Fred’s house is situated,” he said aloud. “By the manner those two men are standing it would-”

Again he began to hum, and presently he ceased to hum and began to chuckle. The two men were walking up the road towards him. Now they drew close to each other, and now they moved apart. One was tall; the other short. One was thin; the other rotund. The tall man carried a hurricane lamp.

The lamp was alight and smoking.

Bony stopped beside a tree and waited.

Onwardcame the inebriates. The warm sunshine mocked the tiny flame of the lamp but could not mask the film of smoke issuing from its top. Bisker stumbled, and Fred said, complainingly:

“Why don’t you look where you’re going? Wot in ’ell’s the use of me bringing a light if you can’t see to step over a bit of a log?”

“You want to shine the blasted lamp properly,” countered Bisker. “ ’Owd’youthink I can see the ruddy logs and things if you keep on waving the lamp about like you’re signalling a young tart in a winder.”

Along the perfectly made gravelled road the pair staggered past Bony, who then left his tree and walked on to the road behind them.

“Flamin’ good mind not to go ’ometill morning,” growled Bisker, finding great difficulty with his speech.“ ’Ow many bottles of Scotch left in the kip, Fred?”

“Four of Scotch and about a coupler dozen of beer,” replied Fred. “They’ll keep, and you can come downtomorrer evening for another bender. Gripes! Wot a night we’ve ’ad, Bisker. Wot a night!”

Bisker hiccoughed and then laughed uproariously.

“The bestflamin ’ night me and you ever ’ad, Fred,” he said, and both were unconscious that Bony walked only two paces at their rear. “Y’know, Fred, when I whistled to you onSat’day afternoon that Black Prince had won, and when I seen you wave your arms, I says tomeself, I says, ‘Wot a bender me and old Fredgonna ’avewith the doings. A ’undredand ten quidain’t a bad win,’ I says. ‘That’ll buy a lot of the real poison,’ Isays.”

“Too-hic-right, Bisker, it will,” Fred agreed.

Bisker abruptly stopped.

“I’m notgoin ’ ’ome,” he announced. “The old cat can go and take a running jump at ’erself. I’mgoin ’ back for some more of that grog. Why, weain’t properly drunk yet.”

“Yes, we are,” argued Fred. “Look! Look where you’re going! Can’t you see that loga’ead of you?”

They halted to regard with great solemnity a stick of about half an inch in thickness which had been parted from the parent branch and had fallen upon the road. Fred held the lamp close to it, and then stepped high over it, turned and held out his hand to assist his companion. Bisker absurdly took his hand and high-stepped over the stick. Bony stood close to them, and neither saw him.

“ ’Bout time the ruddy Reserves Committee give you a few days’ work cleaning up this track, Fred,” Bisker said, and Fred pointed out that he was engaged to work for a “ ’undredpeople” for the next two years.