StingraysAmong Fishes
ON THE MAJORITY OF Australian sheep and cattle stations people are divided into three grades or classes; for, even among Australia’s most democratic portion of her alleged democratic population, class distinctions are rigidly maintained. Heading this class trilogy on the average station is the owner, or the manager, and his family. They reside in what is termed “government house,” the main residence on the property and the centre from which it is directed. On a great number of stations there is another and less pretentious building housing the apprentices or jackeroos, and the overseer or boss stockman. They are provided with a sitting-room and a dining-room. The “lower orders,” comprising the station men and the tradesmen, inhabit a hut, and their dining-room adjoins the kitchen ruled by their own cook.
At Coolibah there was no separate establishment for jackeroos and the boss stockman. Normally Ted Sharp would have been a member of this middle class, and when Nettlefold asked him if he would live at “government house” for a few days, and carry out night guard while the aeroplane girl was a patient within it, he gladly agreed to the guard duty, but expressed a desire to live with the men.
“I work with them, and when on the run I eat with them, and, as there are no jackeroos’ quarters, I prefer to live with the men here,” he said.
To this, however, Elizabeth would not listen, not that she was more democratic than others of her class, but because Ted Sharp was no ordinary bushman, and… well… just because…
“If you are good enough to keep guard over the house all night and every night,” she told him firmly, “you are good enough to live with us. Don’t argue, Ted, please.”
“All right!” he agreed, sighing, but secretly pleased.
Thus he fell into a routine. All day he slept in a cool room at “government house”; he ate his meals with the manager and his daughter, and at night he roamed about the house or sat on the veranda outside the patient’s room. Elizabeth never saw him after she went on duty, but she knew he was never far away, and consequently felt no anxiety.
But to accept a half-caste detective as an equal was quite another matter. When Hetty had awakened her to tell of the arrival of Dr Knowles and a detective, who was an Australian half-caste, and that this detective even then was with the doctor and her father in the latter’s study, and, above all, that Mr Nettlefold had given orders that a room be prepared for this half-caste detective, Elizabeth felt that it was really too much.
In their turn both the station manager and the doctor had accepted Bony with cold reserve, but few men could withstand the appeal of this extraordinary personality. The slightly grandiloquent manner of speaking was countered by the twinkling blue eyes that always seemed to mock at their owner’s love of grandiloquence. On his arrival he had requested time to bath and change before beginning with the business which had brought him, and, during that interval, Knowles had passed to the manager all that Cox had managed to tell him regarding Mr Napoleon Bonaparte, M.A.
Bony had re-appeared freshly shaved and wearing a dark blue suit, and now Dr Knowles lounged in one of the easy chairs with a tumbler held by one white hand. When the door opened to admit Elizabeth, the doctor rose with alacrity, and when Bony stood up and walked a few steps forward he presented the half-caste to the young mistress of Coolibah.
“Miss Nettlefold, this is Detective-Inspector Napoleon Bonaparte. He insists on being addressed merely as Bony. Bony, permit me to present you to Miss Nettlefold, the lady who has undertaken to nurse my patient.”
“How do you do?”Elizabeth said coldly, across a space of twelve feet.
“I am charmed to meet a woman who so nobly gives herself to the nursing of a complete stranger,” Bony said, bowing as she had never seen a man bow before. “Knowing that a policeman in the house is always upsetting, I will try to give as little trouble as possible.”
The light shone directly on his face, and she was held by his blue eyes, by the force of intelligence gazing from them. She noted the delicate mould of his features, pure Nordic and with no trace of his aboriginal ancestry. That lay only in the colour of his skin. She meant to say that, as she was night nursing, his presence would in no way disturb her. What she did say was:
“How do you know that a policeman in the house is a disturbing influence?”
“Because my wife always says so when I have been home five minutes,” he replied quickly. Then, perhaps, because she stood her ground, he advanced to her. “I would like to see your patient as early as possible while the daylight lasts. If you will introduce me as an acquaintance… Then, when I am about to leave, I will stand before the little bedside table, and I would like you to go into the dressing-room and stand just where you were when you saw in the mirror the man with his back to you. As I move from the table to leave the room will you then kindly act precisely as you did that night and at the same speed?”
“If you wish it. Will you see the patient now?”
Bony nodded assent. “Thank you,” he said. “Excuse me, Mr Nettlefold and Dr Knowles.” Holding open the door for her to pass out, he followed her into the hall.
“A moment, Miss Nettlefold, before we go to the sickroom,” he requested, and she turned calmly to look at him, her hostility towards his colour not yet vanquished. “I have one or two questions to ask you concerning this poor young woman. I understand you have closely examined her clothing and have found on several articles the initials M.M. Once we have identified your patient our task of unmasking the person who is conspiring against her life will be partly accomplished. Now tell me please, of what quality is the young woman’s underwear?”
He saw the quickly-gathered frown, and he knew that in Elizabeth Nettlefold he was facing the same battle he had during his career so often faced and won.
“Well, really…” she began haughtily.
“I am forty-three years old, Miss Nettlefold, and I have been married twenty years,” he cut in. “Believe me, the information I seek is for the purpose of establishing the patient’s identity. Do her clothes lead you to assume that she is-well, high in social circles? Are they expensive, or are they cheap and of poor quality?”
“I should say that her clothes have been purchased at middle-class shops,” she replied steadily.
“Thank you! You see how no man could answer my question, unless he happened to be a draper. A person’s outside clothes are not always a true index to his or her social station. Now, if you please.”
Conducting him along the corridor, Elizabeth was puzzled by hisaddress, and hostile yet to the fact of his admittance to her home as an equal. Hetty rose from her chair beside the bed when they entered the room. She, too, appeared hostile because of her mistress’s avowed attitude earlier in the evening. The sun was not yet set, and, added to the chugging petrol engine, was the incessant noise of the chattering galahs and parrots. Within the room it was cool and bright, and, now that the heat of the day was over, the curtains had been drawn aside to admit the breeze.
“You have a visitor, dear,” Elizabeth said, bending over the bed. “He is trying to find out all about you, and he promises not to say long enough to bore you.”
Then, straightening up, she turned to Bony with an expression on her vivid face which there was no mistaking. He understood that this visit was considered wholly unnecessary, but, bland andunperturbed, he stood at the foot of the bed, and from there smiled at the patient whose eyes he could see beneath the partly lowered lids. They moved slightly when he encountered their almost fixed stare.
To him her tragically helpless condition made its instant appeal. The immobility of her frame and features were not themselves terrible to him who had seen death all too often. Those aspects were not terrible to Dr Knowles for the same reason. They were made terrible by the living, intelligent eyes which so clearly revealed a soul anguished by the prison bars of the body. Her aspect appalled him, struck at his gentle nature and aroused all his sympathy for the weak and the defenceless.
Yet he kept all this from his eyes, smiling at her across the length of the bed. Not a doctor, he yet was sure that her condition could not possibly be due to natural causes. Mental shock, no! Bodily injury, no! Hypnotism, perhaps! Perhaps a drug, but what drug? His ready tongue now almost failed him.
“I am grieved to see you like this, Miss M.M.,” he told her, obviously fighting for words. “I am sure now that you are the victim of a conspiracy, and perhaps you may find solace in thefact that not only are your nurses and the doctor concerned for your welfare. Men in all the Australian States are working night and day on your behalf to find out who you are and where you come from, and to hurry to your bed-side those whom you love. I wonder, now!”
Moving round to the side of the bed opposite the two nurses, he took up the limp hands and carefully examined them. Elizabeth and Hetty watched him, the former ready to intervene. Then gently he laid them down on the white coverlet.
“You have beautiful hair,” he said softly. “It reminds me of one whom I knew when I was a boy. Now I must leave you. Retain your courage and never let go the rock of hope.” Bending still lower, he gazed directly into her eyes, to say: “You will get well again, believe me. You need not be doubtful that I shall find out all about you, and then you will be able again to work at a typewriter in an office.” Seeing the flash of interest leap into the blue eyes, his own began to twinkle, and he said more cheerily: “You see, I am beginning to find out things about you already. I am an expert at finding answers to riddles. Aurevoir!”
Standing up he regarded Elizabeth with a faint trace of triumph. Her eyes were wide, and involuntarily they directed their gaze at the white hands on the coverlet. Then he made a sign, and, recognizing her cue, she stepped to the dressing-room. Passing round the bed, the detective paused in front of the little table on which was a half-bottle of brandy, medicine bottles and a tumbler. Then with hastened action he moved to the door, silently opened it and passed out, then as silently closed it and backed swiftly down the corridor to the hall separating the study from the dining-room. He had reached the hall, and was waiting for Elizabeth to appear when a cold voice behind him drawled:
“Stand quite still, you!”
Bony stood still.
“If you move a fraction of an inch I’ll shoot!”
At that instant Elizabeth emerged from the bedroom to stand for a space looking along the corridor at Bony and the man behind him. Then her eyes widened, and she called out:
“Ted Sharp! What are you doing? Put that pistol away!”
Bony ventured a half-turn to observe the man who had jabbed the barrel of a weapon rather smartly into his back.
“I should have been annoyed had you shot me,” he said, chuckling. “You are, I presume, Mr Edward Sharp.”
This is Inspector Bonaparte, Ted,” Elizabeth explained a little breathlessly.
“Oh! New rabbit inspector?”
His levity appeared to annoy Elizabeth, for she snapped out:
“No, of course not. Mr Bonaparte is a detective-inspector just arrived from Brisbane.”
“You don’t say!” Ted Sharp’s eyes grew big, and over his mahogany-tinted face spread a rueful smile. “Now, if I had plugged you-”
“As I said, I should have been annoyed,” Bony interjected smilingly. “And then there is the carpet.”
Elizabeth wanted to laugh but she remembered his colour. It was irritating, too, to find Ted so easily familiar with the man.
“I thought you were up to no good, backing along like you did,” explained the boss stockman, frankly examining the detective.
“With Miss Nettlefold’s assistance, I was carrying out a little experiment,” Bony informed him lightly. “I was determining if it were possible for a man to leave the sickroom and reach this hall, which is nearer than that giving exit to the east veranda, before Miss Nettlefold could reach the bedroom door and look out into the corridor.”
“Apparently he could,” suggestedSharp.
“Yes, he could. In fact, hedid!”
“But why this experiment, Mr Bonaparte?” asked Elizabeth.
“Until we made the experiment we could not be sure that that man did come along to this hall after leaving the room.”
“I don’t think I understand,” she told Bony, frowning.
“Pardon! The man you saw, you thought at the time to be Dr Knowles,” Bony explained. Then he smiled, saying, “I merely wished to demonstrate to myself that it really wasnot the doctor.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed, with rising indignation.
“And now that I am reasonably sure that a man who was not a stranger to this house, did visit the sick-room and tamper with the brandy, I can permit my liking and admiration for Dr Knowles full sway. Dear me, what a man! I notice that the sick-room has two pairs offrench windows. Were they opened on the night that the brandy was poisoned?”
The girl’s indignation subsided before the warm magnetism of Bony’s personality. For the first time she forgot his colour. For the first time her hostility was forgotten, too.
“Why, yes!” she replied. “One pair was kept open all that night. However, the curtains were drawn before both pairs of windows.”
“Then, without doubt, the intruder watched you from outside the open window. He accepted the opportunity you gave him when you retired to the dressing-room. Having reached the bed-side table, knowing the plan of the house, he went out through the door because that was to him the nearest exit. Had he known nothing of the interior of the building he would have retreated by the way he had come. You did not notice if he wore a mask?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“I saw him with his back to me. When I looked again he was outside the door and closing it,” she said.
“Hum! Well, the matter turning out as it did, it was as well you did not confront him.”
The aboriginal maid appeared to make an anxious sign to her mistress. Elizabeth suggested dinner, and Ted Sharp volunteered to call the doctor and Nettlefold.
“This house, I observe, has two halls. That is unusual,” Bony remarked, when Ted Sharp was standing just within the study door.
“Well, you see, this west part of the house was built long after the eastern portion,” Elizabeth explained. “Originally the house faced to the east. Then when the addition was built on the centre passage was continued back here, and this hall was planned. As you see, it opens on to the south veranda, which is always comparatively cool and shaded. Now the kitchen and domestic quarters are in a detached building to the north, and connected by a covered passage.”
“Ah! Thank you. And, of course, the hall door was not locked that night?”
“It was never locked, Mr Bonaparte.”
The men joined them, and the doctor took Elizabeth in. Nettlefold occupied the seat at the head of the table, with Elizabeth on his left and Bony on his right. Ted Sharp sat next to the detective, and the doctor sat beside their hostess;
“I understand that in an army mess it is considered bad form to discuss army matters,” Bony said to them all, after the soup. “But here and now I am compelled to err by the urgency of this business which has brought me here. On the map you marked for me, Mr Nettlefold, you showed the position of a hut beside a bore called Faraway Bore. How far is that from Emu Lake?”
“Roughly eight miles,” replied the cattleman. “It is north of the main station track off which one turns along the Emu Lake paddock fence. From here it would be sixty-four miles.”
“Thank you! Ned Hamlin and two blacks, Shuteye and Bill Sikes are living there at present?”
“Yes.”
“Are there any spare hacks and gear at this Faraway Bore hut?”
“Plenty of horses. We keep extra saddles here.”
“It would make rather a good headquarters,” said Bony. “Would you lend me a horse and gear, and the services of those two blacks?”
“Why, yes, with pleasure.”
Bony glanced across at his hostess.
“Pardon my persistence in talking shop, Miss Nettlefold, but I have decided to ask your father a great favour.” To the manager he went on: “This continued calm weather indicates a severe disturbance. It might come at any hour, and it is of grave importance that certain work be done out there before it does. The favour I ask of you is to take me to Faraway Bore to-night.”
“To-night? Well-certainly, if you wish it.”
“Surely you have done enough travelling for one day, Mr-er-Bony!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her former hostility now forgotten.
“Yes-a hundred and ten miles by car after leaving the train, and then a hundred and four miles by plane,” added Knowles. “Dash it, man! It is sixty-four miles over a rough track-fifteen of them like a switchback railway over the river channels.”
“Notwithstanding, if Mr Nettlefold will…”
“Oh, I’ll take you; the manager agreed. “I can make the return journey comfortably before midnight. You will be staying, Doctor, of course.”
“Thank you! I want to keep the patient under observation,” Knowles replied.
“Then, Bony, we will get away after dinner. Ted will be on guard with his two dogs.”
“Ah! By the way, Miss Nettlefold,” Bony said, regarding her across the damask, “how did the homestead dogs behave that night you saw the intruder?”
“One barked half-heartedly all night through.”
“That strengthens the theory that the intruder was well acquainted with the interior plan of this house. The dog knew thepoisoner; had he been a stranger the dog’s bark would have been more than half-hearted, and it would, without doubt, have been joined by the others. It seems probable that the man works here, or is a visitor. No, I cannot suspect you now, Doctor.”
“Didyou suspect me?” Knowles asked blandly.
Bony smiled.
“I did, my dear Doctor, I did! Quite without reason, too. Sergeant Cox informs me that the population of his district numbers on the average about two hundred. I regard all these people-including those present-as fish in my net. Among these fish is a stingray-probably two stingrays. To discover the stingrays, it is essential to examine all the fish. You will admit, Doctor, that it was quite possible for you to enter the sick-room, having waited beyond the window curtains for the opportunity presented by Miss Nettlefold’s temporary absence in her dressing-room. Miss Nettlefold and I carried out a little experiment just to prove that the intruder could have reached the nearer end of the corridor before she looked out from the room. It is a fact which, although it does not wholly exonerate you, does at least support your innocence. I am made happy by it after the cool manner you coaxed your choked engine to life with about thirty seconds to spare.”
“Oh! That’s the first time we have heard about a failing engine,” Nettlefold said.
“It was only a piece of fluff or grit in the petrol system,” the doctor explained, faintly annoyed.“Happened over dense mulga timber. It would, of course!”
“I do not intend flattery, Doctor, when I say that I cannot but admire coolness in the face of death,” Bony said distinctly. “I am glad to say that I shall not suspect you again.”
Knowles laughed.
“Whom do you suspect, then? Tell us, now, have you formed any theories about this case?”
“Several,” Bony admitted. “There are obvious facts supporting some of them. The unfortunate young woman is not known in this district. I incline to the thought that she was not in the district when the aeroplane was stolen, and that it was stolen with the express purpose of bringing about her destruction. It is reasonable to assume that the person who did steal the machine is one having intimate knowledge of the district, and that having the person of the young woman on his hands outside the district, he stole the machine, flew it to where she was, took her up in it out to Emu Lake paddock, which he knew was resting, and, therefore, was not likely to be visited by stockmen, and there jumped by parachute, leaving the victim in the machine to crash and hoping that the crash would fire the machine. In the resultant debris would be found the charred remains of the supposed thief.”
Bony ceased to speak while the maid cleared away the dessert and served coffee. Elizabeth provided cigarettes, and announced her intention of remaining at table. The afterglow of the departed sun poured into the room.
“Go on, please,” she urged, when the maid withdrew.
“Well, from information received, as the constable says in court, the young woman was discovered in the abandoned aeroplane at twenty minutes to two in the afternoon,” Bony proceeded. “By extraordinary chance the machine made a perfect landing on Emu Lake. Captain Loveacre states than this monoplane was easy to fly, and could conceivably remain in the air for a period without control. As it came to rest on the middle of the lake, the pilot had either shut off the ignition or the fuel supply ran out almost immediately after he had jumped from it.
“Then, you, Mr and Miss Nettlefold, leave the machine with the helpless young woman at about two-thirty, and you arrive here at about five minutes to six, having called nowhere and seen no oneen route. At six o’clock Mr Nettlefold rings up Sergeant Cox. At four o’clock the following morning a serious attempt is made to poison the patient’s medicinal brandy.
“Now, Coolibah Station is not a town or even a large city to be crossed and re-crossed in an hour or so. And yet swift action follows the failure to crash the machine and kill the young woman. The telephone system I will have to discuss with you later, Mr Nettlefold. There may be a leakage in it somewhere. On the other hand, you may have been observed removing the victim of the conspiracy from the aeroplane-which is why I am so anxious to look at the country out there before a rainstorm or a windstorm obliterates valuable evidence. You, Miss Nettlefold, told Sergeant Cox that on the night the brandy was poisoned you did not hear the sound of a car, near or distant, so that the intruder arrived on foot and departed on foot-unless he was then at Coolibah!”
Bony leaned forward across the table.
“We shall have done a great deal when we have identified the unfortunate victim of this terrible outrage,” he said.
“A description of her has been circulated throughout Australia. Her initials are double M, and she is employed in an office as a typist, or at her home doing typewriting work.”
“How do you know that?” was the chorus.
“By the fact that the balls of both forefingers and the outer edges of both thumbs are distinctly flattened by the keys of a typewriter.”