Уильям Моэм - The Narrow Corner

“Who is it?” he called out.

The reply came on the top of his cry, quickly, in a low, agitated voice.

“Doctor. It’s me, Fred. I want to see you.”

The doctor had smoked half a dozen pipes after Captain Nichols had left him to go back on board the Fenton , and when he had been smoking he hated to be disturbed. Thoughts as clear as the geometrical designs in a child’s drawing–book, squares, oblongs, circles, triangles, flowed through his mind in an orderly procession. The delight he felt in their lucidity was part and parcel of the indolent pleasure of his body. He raised his mosquito curtains and padded across the bare floor to the door. When he opened it he saw the night watchman, hooded with a blanket against the noxious air of the night, holding a lantern, and just behind him Fred Blake.

“Let me in, doctor. It’s frightfully important.”

“Wait till I light the lamp.”

By the light of the watchman’s lantern he found the matches and lit the lamp. Ah Kay, who slept on a mat on the verandah outside the doctor’s room, awoke at the disturbance and raising himself on his seat rubbed his dark, sloe–like eyes. Fred gave the watchman a tip and he went away.

“Go to sleep, Ah Kay,” said the doctor. “There’s nothing for you to get up for.”

“Look here, you must come to Erik’s at once,” said Fred. “There’s been an accident.”

“What d’you mean?”

He looked at Fred and saw that he was as white as a sheet. He was trembling in every limb.

“He’s shot himself.”

“Good God! How d’you know?”

“I’ve just come from there. He’s dead.”

At Fred’s first words the doctor had instinctively begun to busy himself, but at this he stopped short.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, quite.”

“If he’s dead, what’s the good of my going?”

“He can’t be left like that. Come and see. Oh, my God.” His voice broke as though he were going to cry. “Perhaps you can do something.”

“Who’s there?”

“Nobody. He’s lying there alone. I can’t bear it. You must do something. For Christ’s sake come.”

“What’s that on your hand?”

Fred looked at it. It was smeared with blood. By a natural instinct he was about to wipe it on his duck trousers.

“Don’t do that,” cried the doctor, catching hold of his wrist. “Come and wash it off.”

Still holding him by the wrist, with the lamp in his other hand, he led him into the bath–house. This was a little dark, square chamber with a concrete floor; there was a huge tub in the corner and you bathed yourself by sluicing water over your body with a small tin pan which you filled from the tub. The doctor gave a pan full of water and a piece of soap to Fred and told him to wash.

“Have you got any on your clothes?”

He held up the lamp to look.

“I don’t think so.”

The doctor poured the blood–stained water away and they went back to the bedroom. The sight of the blood had startled Fred and he sought to master his hysterical agitation. He was whiter than ever and though he held his hands clenched, Dr. Saunders saw that he could not control their violent trembling.

“Better have a drink. Ah Kay, give the gentleman some whisky. No water.”

Ah Kay got up and brought a glass into which he poured the neat spirit. Fred tossed it off. The doctor watched him closely.

“Look here, my boy, we’re in a foreign country. We don’t want to run up against the Dutch authorities. I don’t believe they’re very easy people to deal with.”

“We can’t leave him lying there in a pool of blood.”

“Isn’t it a fact that something happened in Sydney that made you leave in a hurry? The police here are going to ask you a lot of questions. D’you want them to cable to Sydney?”

“I don’t care. I’m fed up with the whole thing.”

“Don’t be a fool. If he’s dead you can do no good and neither can I. We’d better keep out of it. The best thing you can do is to get away from the island as soon as you can. Did anyone see you there?”

“Where?”

“At his house,” said the doctor impatiently.

“No, I was only there a minute. I rushed straight round here.”

“What about his boys?”

“I suppose they were asleep. They live at the back.”

“I know. The night watchman’s the only person who’s seen you. Why did you rouse him?”

“I couldn’t get in. The door was locked. I had to get hold of you.”

“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. There are plenty of reasons why you should rout me out in the middle of the night. What made you go to Erik’s?”

“I had to. I had something to say to him that couldn’t wait.”

“I suppose he did shoot himself. You didn’t shoot him, did you?”

“Me?” The boy gasped with horror and surprise. “Why, he’s … I wouldn’t have hurt a hair of his head. If he’d been my brother I couldn’t have thought more of him. The best pal a chap ever had.”

The doctor frowned with faint distaste of the language Fred used, but his feeling for Erik was very clear, and the shock the doctor’s question caused him was plain enough proof that he spoke the truth.

“Then what does it all mean?”

“Oh, my God, I don’t know. He must have gone crazy. How the hell should I know he was going to do a thing like that?”

“Spit it out, sonny. You needn’t be afraid I shall give you away.”

“It’s that girl up at old Swan’s. Louise.”

The doctor sharpened his look, but did not interrupt him.

“I had a bit of fun with her to–night.”

“You? But you only saw her for the first time yesterday.”

“I know. What’s that got to do with it? She took a fancy to me the first moment she saw me. I knew that. I took a fancy to her, too. I haven’t had a thing since I left Sydney. Somehow, I can’t stick these natives. When I had that dance with her I knew it was all right. I could have had her then. We went out in the garden when you were playing bridge. I kissed her. She was just aching for it. When a girl’s like that you don’t want to give her time to think twice about it. I was in a bit of a state myself. I’ve never seen anyone to touch her. If she’d told me to go and throw myself over a cliff I’d have done it. When she came this morning with her old man I asked her if we couldn’t meet. She said, No. I said, Couldn’t I come up after they’d all gone to bed and we could have a bathe in the pool together? She said, No, but she wouldn’t say why not. I told her I was crazy about her. And I was too. My God, she’s a peach. I took her down to the ketch and showed her over. I kissed her there. That damned old Nichols wouldn’t leave us alone for more than a minute. I said I’d go up to the plantation to–night. She said she wouldn’t come, but I knew she would, she wanted me just as much as I wanted her; and sure enough when I got there, she was waiting for me. It was lovely there, in the dark, except for the mosquitoes; they were biting like mad, it was more than flesh and blood could stand, and I said, Couldn’t we go to her room? and she said she was afraid, but I told her it was all right, and at last she said Yes.”

Fred stopped. The doctor looked at him from under his heavy eyelids. His pupils, from the opium he had smoked, were like pin–points. He listened and pondered over what he heard.

“At last she said I’d better get a move on. I put on my clothes, all but my shoes, so that I shouldn’t make a row on the verandah. She went out first to see the coast was clear. Sometimes when he couldn’t sleep old Swan wandered up and down there as if it was the deck of a ship. Then I slipped out and hopped over the verandah. I sat down on the ground and started to put on my shoes and before I knew what had happened someone grabbed me and pulled me up. Erik. He’s got the strength of an ox, he lifted me up as if I was a bit of a kid, and he put his hand over my mouth, but I was so startled I couldn’t have shouted if I’d wanted to. Then he put his hand round my throat and I thought he was going to choke the life out of me. I don’t know, I was paralysed, I couldn’t even struggle. I couldn’t see his face. I heard him breathing; by God, I thought I was done for, and then suddenly he let me go; he gave me a great clout over the side of the head, with the back of his hand, I think it was, and I just fell like a log. He stood over me for a bit; I didn’t move; I thought if I moved he’d kill me, and then suddenly he turned round and walked away at about a hundred miles an hour. I got up in a minute and looked at the house. Louise hadn’t heard a thing. I thought: should I go and tell her? but I didn’t dare, I was afraid someone would hear me knocking on the shutter. I didn’t want to frighten her. I didn’t know what to do. I started to walk, and then I found I hadn’t put my shoes on, I had to go back for them. I was in a panic because just at first I couldn’t find them. I drew a long breath when I got back on the road. I was wondering if Erik was waiting for me. It’s no joke walking along a road at night, with not a soul about, and knowing that a great hulking fellow may step out at any minute and give you a hiding. He could wring my neck like a chicken’s, and I shouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. I didn’t walk very quick and I kept my eyes peeled. I thought if I saw him first I’d make a dash for it. I mean, it’s no good standing up to a chap when you haven’t got a chance, and I knew I could run a lot faster than him. I expect it was only nerves. After I’d walked about a mile I wasn’t in a funk any more. And then, you know, I felt I must see him at any price. If it had been anybody else I shouldn’t have cared a damn, but, somehow, I couldn’t stand him thinking me just a damned swine. You can’t understand, but I’ve never met anyone like him, he’s so straight himself, you can’t bear he shouldn’t think you straight, too. Most people you know—well, they’re no better than you are; but Erik was different. I mean, you’d have to be a perfect damned fool not to see that he was one in a thousand. See what I mean?”