After The Dance
THERE WAS no defined reason actuating Bony’s decision to pay a second visit to the Loftus farm the night William decoyed the dogs away from Burracoppin.
Mr Jelly’s suspicions-he had refused to impart to Bony the grounds on which they were based, if grounds there were-had strengthened his own created by the short hair found in the lace of Mrs Loftus’s pillow and her own extraordinary poems written in a notebook.
Knowing that Landon was the secretary as well as theM. C. of the dance, Bony thought it likely that the Loftus party would be the last to leave. He, with theJellys, had left immediately the dance broke up, and as he had politely declined to stop at their homestead to eat a light supper, he was aware that the Loftus party had not passed north on the public road. When a quarter of a mile past the Loftus farm gate, he requested Fred to stop and drop him, as he desired to walk the remaining distance to Burracoppin, and having speeded the astonished garage-man, he turned back, jumped the rabbit fence, and eventually arrived at the cart shed north of the Loftus house, wearing his sheepskin boots, his white collar camouflaged by the black handkerchief.
And here in the concealment offered by farm machinery he waited the arrival of the Loftus party, smoking cigarette after cigarette, his mind occupied by Mr Jelly’s suspicions and his own discoveries. It was twenty-three minutes after two o’clock when the Loftus car turned in on the farm track.
The car stopped immediately in front of the house door, so that the lights, shining directly into the open-fronted cart shed, compelled Bony to keep hidden behind a small cart. When the lights were switched off he could see that the lamp had been lit in the living-room and the living-room window swung open. The figure of Mick Landon was revealed when he entered through the doorway.
Bony could hear one of the women laughing, and it presently became apparent that the party had no intention of retiring at once. He was as a black smudge of shadow gliding from the cart shed to the north wall of the house, where he disappeared into deeper shadow. Now he could hear the low murmur of conversation, which grew in volume as he edged his way round the corner. It became distinct when finally he reached the window and was enabled to look into the room through the gently swaying lace curtains.
“Make that wretched kettle boil quickly, Mick. I’m dying for a cup of tea,” Mrs Loftus was saying. She was seated in one of the leather chairs, her back against the dresser, whilst she faced the window. Miss Waldron occupied the second leather chair facing the crackling stove, permitting Bony to see her rather fine profile. Landon was bending over the stove, coaxing the flames beneath the iron kettle. The farmer’s wife, flushed by the cool night air after the heat of the hall, was looking her best while speaking to her sister.
“I saw you dancing with youngSmedley more than once,” she said in her clear, cold voice.“ ’Ware! ’Ware! He hasn’t a penny to fly with. This harvest will see the end of him.”
“He’s a nice boy, but I’m not mushy,” Miss Waldron stated with emphasis. Not as good-looking as her sister, Miss Waldron was less brilliantly hard, less sophisticated, consequently more likeable to ordinary people.
“And whatever made you dance with that blackfellow?” asked Mrs Loftus, with just the suspicion of a frown she was careful always never to permit to mar her forehead.
“He asked me to very nicely,” replied Miss Waldron coldly.
“But he is black, sis,” objected Mrs Loftus.
“I prefer a black gentleman to a white boor.”
“Oh! Please yourself, of course. What did he talk about?”
“Mostly about you.”
“Me!”
“Yes. He said he thought you to be the most beautiful woman in the hall. He said he never had seen anyone quite to equal you, but-”
“Well? Go on,” commanded Mrs Loftus impatiently.
“He said-he said-” Miss Waldron hesitated. It seemed that she was less desirous of offending her sister than Mrs Loftus was of offending her. “He said that although you danced well, he thought I danced better.”
“How does he know? I never allowed him to dance with me.”
“It would not be necessary for a judge to dance with a woman to see how she danced,” Miss Waldron said with dangerous sweetness, knowing quite well that Bony had never asked to dance with her sister. “Anyway, he’s not properly black. He’s rather good-looking, and certainly is good company. I like a man who talks well and doesn’t splutter and gasp all over you like some of the men did tonight. Oh! Make the tea strong, Mick, there’s a good fellow. I had only one rotten dance, and that was with that man Thorn. Do you know, I think that mandrinks. ”
The delighted Bony almost joined in the laughter of the others at this grave pronouncement on Mr Thorn.
“Oh, sis,” Mrs Loftus gurgled, “how can you say such a dreadful thing?” To which Mick Landon added:
“Surely you are mistaken, Miss Waldron?” And then, seeing the indignant look in her eyes: “Drink! Why, he couldn’t be drowned in beer.”
“But there was no drink at the dance, was there?”
“No, but you may depend that old Thorn brought a few bottles with him in spite of his wife’s watchfulness.”
“I don’t like her, and she doesn’t like me,” Mrs Loftus remarked with suddenly hardened eyes. “There are a lot in Burracoppin who’d like to cut me since George went down on this rotten farm. When we had money they crawled to us.”
“They might crawl again if George strikes gold at Leonora,” suggested her sister, now pouring out the tea Landon had made.
“No doubt about that,” Mrs Loftus agreed. “People are funny when folk come down in cash values. But I don’t care. They amuse me rather.”
“The black seems well in with the Jelly crowd, eh?” Landon said.
“Yes. I thought Lucy Jelly was sweet on the fence-rider.”
“So she is, or was, anyway,” Landon replied. “He’s a bit of a mystery, that black. Poole was telling me that he tracked a lost child for seventeen miles over rough country in Queensland once, and found the kid in time. How he got a job with the Rabbits whenthere’s so many white men out of a job beats me. Pity they can’t give a Burra man a chance.”
“Somehow I don’t like him,” Mrs Loftus said, reaching for the carton of cigarettes. Landon struck a match and politely held it for her use. Between puffs she added: “And I don’t like theJellys either. The girls are stuck up, and the old fellow is too superior.”
It appeared that Mrs Loftus did not like many people.
“Yet George thought well of him. When I was here last year they were great friends,” objected Miss Waldron.
“Blow George!”Mrs Loftus murmured inelegantly. “Let’s forget him. He ran away, so let him stop away for keeps. I don’t want to see him again.”
“But-”
“Don’t argue, sis. I’m too tired.”
“So am I. I’ll go to bed. Give me a candle. My last one burned out.”
Miss Waldron stood up. Mrs Loftus turned round in her chair and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, from which she removed a candle-box, opened it, and took out two candles.
“That’s funny,” she said, looking up at her sister. “Are you sure you didn’t take one?”
“Of course I am. Mine was dying out in a splutter just as I finished dressing.”
“But there were three candles in this box when we left,” Mrs Loftus insisted. “I’m positive about it. I went to the drawer after I was dressed to get Mick some adhesive tape for a petrol leak, and three candles were halfway out of the box. Don’t you remember, Mick? You were standing near me.”
“Yes. You took candles and box out of the drawer. There were three candles there then.”
“Well, what does a candle matter more or less? We’re not that broke, surely,” Miss Waldron exclaimed impatiently. “Give me one, instead of looking at them as though they were hundred-pound notes, before Iyawn my head off.”
“That’s very funny,” Mrs Loftus again said, giving one of the two candles to her sister.
“Don’t let it keep you awake all night,” urged Miss Waldron, laughing and yawning. “Good night, Mavie! Good night, Mick!”
“Good night!” Bony heard them reply while he slipped back to the north wall angle, round which he saw Miss Waldron emerge from the house, stand for a second looking up at the glittering stars, and then disappear round the south vine-protected veranda on which was her bedroom. Two minutes he gave her before he took the grave risk of her returning to find him at the window.
When again he peered into the living-room it was to see Landon standing with his back to the stove, smoking a cigarette and looking intently about the room. After a little time Mrs Loftus came out of her bedroom, when they regarded each other steadily for several seconds. It was he who spoke first.
“Anything disturbed?” he asked.
“Not a thing. Yet I am sure about those three candles.”
“So am I. I’ll look round in the morning and see if there are any strange tracks around the house.”
Bony saw Mrs Loftus’s eyes widen, whilst on her forehead gathered the forbidden frown.
“Mick!” she whispered.
“What?”
“The dogs?”
“What about them?”
“Oh, Mick! Where are they? They never met us tonight, and they have always barked and gone mad when we’ve come home late.”
“By Jupiter! It is strange. I’ll call them.”
When he strode to the door Bony slipped back round the house corner. Landon came out and with index finger and thumb whistled shrilly. Then he shouted. He came to the corner, and Bony darted back to the west side of the house. Again he whistled, then stood listening for answering yelps, or, perhaps, for a distant bark. He whistled and called again before returning to the lighted room, Bony at the window two seconds after he had entered.
“I advised you to chain them up before we left,” Mrs Loftus was saying. To which he replied:
“They were better loose. Gip would tear a prowler to pieces. Their being away is peculiar. I don’t like it. They’ve never cleared out like that before.”
“And I don’t like it about that candle.”
Now for fully thirty seconds the two stared at each other across the table. Then Landon laughed and said:
“We are imagining things, dear heart. There must have been two candles, after all. Who would steal a candle? As for the dogs, they have gone hunting; very likely a fox wandered too near, and they nosed his scent. They’ll come back any time.”
“I could have sworn-”
“We are becoming afraid of shadows. There is nothing to be afraid about. Come, let us turn in. It’s half-past three.”
“Yes, I suppose we are foolish, dear.” Mrs Loftus passed swiftly round the table to the man, who took her in his arms. “I’ll go to bed, but you will sleep lightly, won’t you? I am very tired. You’ll excuse me?”
“Certainly, Mavis. Kiss me properly, and I’ll go.”
Bony watched them embrace, thought of the absent Loftus and of Mr Jelly, whose suspicions were being proved fact before his eyes. The nudging he had given Father Time was certainly producing results. When they parted he slipped noiselessly back again to the north wall. He heard Landon utter a parting endearment within the room, and then, when outside the house and about to close the door, Landon said:
“Good night, Mavis! Pleasant dreams.”
Waiting no more, Bony darted to the fence-enclosed haystack, in the impenetrable shadow of which he watched Landon leave the house and cross direct to the stack almost on his trail. At first he thought the man saw him and was about to demand reason of his presence there, but he veered to the north end of the stack, climbed a ladder, and from the roof slope pulled away half a dozen sheaves of wheaten hay. On reaching the ground again, Landon picked up the sheaves, one in each hand and two under each arm, and carried them to a small yard adjoining the stables, when the low “moo-o” of a cow explained Landon’s movements. Until all the wheat had been stripped the cows could not be freed from the fenced narrow paddock running back to the rock and in which the grass had been burned off by the sun. From the cow yard the hired man walked straight to his tent.
During three minutes Bony watched his shadow dancing on the tent walls and low roof. The light was extinguished, and Bony settled himself to wait and see what happened next, if anything.
What he had seen in the living-room that evening had given him a fine opportunity to sum up the characters of these three people. He was now sure of Miss Waldron on several points. He was sure that she did not know the whereabouts of George Loftus unless he was at Leonora, and he was sure that she did not know about the hidden key and the object in the flock of Mrs Loftus’s mattress, and he was sure that she did not know the intimate relationship between Landon and her sister.
What he had seen confirmed his opinion of Mrs Loftus. She knew where her husband was and was indifferent to him. She was a hard, selfish woman, sensual and snobbish, but she shared certain secrets with the hired man, who was strikingly handsome.
Regarding Landon, Mr Jelly was quite right. He was better able to control his emotions than could his lover. His personality was but little weaker than that of Mrs Loftus. He was cool, and, therefore, able to calculate and plan, and, consequently, could become a dangerous man. Despite his easing Mrs Loftus’s fears with laughter which rang true, Bony knew that he was disturbed by the missing candle and worried at the absence of the dogs. He had gone to bed without delay when many men would have searched for traces of the dogs, and it was this point which indicated the probability that the man even then was watching from his tent door, his suspicions still strong.
Why were both he and Mrs Loftus made so uneasy by the absence of the dogs and by that missing candle Bony had taken on which to make impressions of the secret key? What did they fear? Was it guilty knowledge which made them fearful? Were they afraid of George Loftus, of his vengeance? Was it-
Bony’s keen eyes saw the shadow distinctly almost at the instant it left the cart shed. What was Landon up to now? Bony had not observed him leave his tent. He was creeping without sound towards the house.
Glad that he had waited on the chance of this development, his nerves leaping under the thrill of it, he saw a second shadow but a short distance from the hired man’s tent. Who was that man? If it was Landon, then who was the first man? He watched the two shadows draw near, converge. He heard one of them utter a little grunt of surprise; saw a second later a red spurt of flame leave the side of the second shadow and heard thewhiplike crack of the revolver and the cry of pain.
The second shadow shrank downwards, then shot up to its former height. The man began to run towards the road and the rabbit fence, speeding over the stripped stubble between the road and the homestead. Twice in rapid succession the red flame spurted from the man whom Bony guessed to be Mick Landon. Then Landon fell, stumbling over some concealed object, and when he got to his feet, swearing vividly, the other man had vanished.
Cries came from the house. Miss Waldron rushed into Bony’s vision carrying a candle, which became a dim yellow speck when Mrs Loftus joined her carrying a lamp above her head. There was tense alarm in her voice.
“Mick! What has happened? Are you hurt? What did you shoot at?”
“I’m all right,” Landon replied reassuringly. “I waited in the dark, and I saw him sneaking across from the cart shed. I winged him, but he got away, running towards the road.”
“Was it a man? Are you sure?”
“Positive, Miss Waldron,” Landon said coolly. “But he won’t come back. He got a good issue. Come now. Don’t stay out here in your night things. Both of you to bed before you catch a chill. If you wish it I will make down a bed in the kitchen. Shall I?”
“Oh I’ll not sleep a wink-I wouldn’t dare!” wailed Miss Waldron.
“It’ll be all right, sis,” Mrs Loftus said with wonderful command of herself. “Come and sleep in my bed. Mick won’t mind sleeping on the kitchen floor.”
“Of course not. I’ll run over for my bedding right away.”
Bony watched him run to his tent and return with mattress and bedclothes in his arms. The last he saw was Landon shepherding the women round the house corner to the only door. He gave them five minutes before he stole away-and his shadow could not have been seen by the keenest of eyes.
Skirting the stubble paddock, he gained the main road, removing the sheepskin boots when halfway up the long sand rise. The one question that occupied his mind was, where did Landon obtain the revolver? It certainly was not in the tent when Bony searched it. Did the man go armed to an entirely innocent country dance?