Arthur Upfield - The Devil_s Steps

For a while there was silence between them. Then Bony said, and he placed his hand on her wrist:

“Your secret shall be kept. And with regard to your motive for keeping the matter secret, I fancy that Clarence B. Bagshott would fully concur.”

“Thank you, Bony.”

He beamed. She realised her error and bit her nether lip.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Bonaparte!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t-”

“But why not? Everyone calls me Bony-from my Chief down to my youngest son. There comes a time in all our lives, you know, when we need a friend, and you can regard me as such. I understand that you are not intending to accept any guests till after the summer. In fact, I have to thank you for not turning me out. You ought to consider a holiday. Take a trip up to Brisbane and come and stay with my wife. The spring up there is very lovely. I’ll get her to drop you a little note. We live very quietly; nothingso grand as this, but our hearts, I am glad to say, are in the right places. Ah-that will be Clarence B. Bagshott.”

They rose at the sound of a motor horn being worked like the MorseCode. He held out his hand and she took it, regarding him with eyes that were misty. He smiled at her, and she did her best to smile back at him. Then he bowed to her, walked to thefrench window and bowed to her again, and she said:

“Aurevoir, Bony! And thank you-oh, so much.”

He left the veranda and walked down the path skirting the Devil’s Steps. Cloud fog swirled about him. Halfway down he turned to wave back to Miss Jade and to see her answering wave. At the wicket gate he could no longer see her.

Bisker stood beside a car at the foot of the drive.

“All your things are stowed away, Mr. Bonaparte,” Bisker told him.

“Thank you, Bisker, and good-bye. When you really want to leave Miss Jade, and I think you would be foolish ever to do so, you have only to write to Windee Station and the owner will send you down your fares.”

He gripped Bisker’s grimy hand and got into the car beside Clarence B. Bagshott, who said:

“Settle down, settle down. Friend of yours in the back.”

Bony turned and looked behind-to see Colonel Blythe. Blythe was dressed in very old clothes and on his head was a disgracefully shabby cloth cap.

“Well, I never!”Bony exclaimed, rare astonishment plain in his eyes.

Blythe chuckled.

“Secret Service, me!” he said. “Detective-Inspector Napoleon Bonaparte declined to return to Brisbane by air because, so he said, air travel makes him sick. Despite Colonel Spendor’s ramping and roaring, little Bony planned with Bagshott to travel back to Brisbane by car, and the car was to break down at Bermagui for three or four days, while little Bony and Bagshott went off tuna fishing, as theswordies are not about at this time of the year. And so, as Colonel Blythe was instrumental, in the company of the said Napoleon Bonaparte, in obtaining for the British Government plans and formulas of priceless worth, the said Colonel Blythe decided to have a few days’ tuna fishing. Drive on, Clarence B.”

Bagshott broke into delighted laughter. The car rushed into unlawful speed down the fog-masked highway.

“This is going to be a real bucks’ party,” he shouted. “Do we stop at the first pub?”