Arthur Upfield 20 The Battling Prophet (pdf)

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

earlier.
We are left with several items. Those thugs were in-
different to what was occupying you at this time, being con-
fident they would quickly find what they were looking for.
They thought there was no danger of interruption from you,
and, because of the hour, no interruption from anyone else.
Hence the open door. They knew what they were looking for
that green-covered book. And they knew of Wickham s
friendship with you, and of his visits here.
Think they would have found the cellar? asked Mr.
Luton.
They would be experts in tearing a house to pieces.
What was wrong in handing em over to Gibley? They
can t do such things in Australia.
123
Bony shrugged. Remember the story about the great king
who visited Australia and committed a murder? To have hand-
ed those trained sadists over to Gibley might have resulted in
ringing down the curtain before the end of the drama.
All right. Leave em. What about the Melbourne police?
Wouldn t they check up on the train and find you wasn t on
it?
Without doubt. My disappearance will send many people
into a dither. Which is why, like Brer Rabbit, I am going to
burrow deep.
You going to hole up? Where?
In your pub down under.
Mr. Luton evinced swift contentment. Bony said:
Time flies, as a thousand million people have said before
me. We must sleep, unfortunately. Now please listen carefully
to what I say, while I clear the table and wash up. You will be
the custodian, and there will probably be many visitors.
An hour later, Bony surveyed his sanctuary, after hearing
the trap-door shut and Mr. Luton replacing the floor-covering.
The stock had been slightly rearranged. The stretcher bed
was set up against one damp wall, and a couple of gin cases
served as a bedside table. The oil-lamp burned on the bar
counter, and there was a primus stove on which to boil water
for tea.
At three places a series of one-inch auger holes had been
bored, to provide Bony with listening points. He could thus
hear what was said at the front door, within the lounge, and
inside the living-room. If Mr. Luton wished to converse with
him, he would have only to lie on the floor at one of these
points and emit a mild version of his bullock team whistle
down the auger holes. Stacked spirits provided mounting steps
to the listening vents.
It was a quarter to seven when Bony turned in. It was four
minutes after two when he woke. Like the cellar, the house
above was still.
124
Bony lit the oil-lamp. He put on his several spare pairs of
socks and a large blanket dressing-gown belonging to old
Luton, and started the primus.
About three o clock he heard, very faintly, the dogs
barking, and a moment later, the distant thud of Mr. Luton s
feet on his bedroom floor. The thudding eventually changed
to the padding of comfortable slippers.
When someone knocked on the front door, Bony climbed
the steps of brandy cases to sit on the topmost, when his head
touched the perforated flooring. He could hear his host cross-
ing the sitting-room, heard the door open, and Senior
Constable Gibley say:
Day-ee! What! You on the booze again?
Do I look like it? snapped Mr. Luton.
Yes.
Well, I m not, Senior, and I d take it kindly if you minded
your own business. I had a bad night, as you seem to be inter-
ested, and if a man of my age can t sleep when he likes and get
up when he likes, then it s time the atom bomb blew up the
likes of you. What is it?
Now, now, no sparks, Luton. Keep your hair on. I only
called for a chinwag, anyway. You goin to ask me in?
Don t see why. Still, if you want to waste the taxpayers
money. . . .
They moved back into the kitchen and the door was closed.
Bony descended from his brandy steps and mounted the gin
steps which brought him beneath the kitchen dresser. He was
in time to hear Mr. Luton following his instructions.
Cup of coffee or tea? I m going to light the stove.
Whatever s handiest, accepted Gibley. Anyone been
around this morning?
How in hell should I know? You woke me. Lumbago
kept me up all night and I didn t get off to sleep till after
daybreak.
All right! All right! Of course the dogs would warn you
if anyone had come around. They make enough noise.
125
They would of woke me, I suppose, admitted Mr. Luton.
The sound of case wood crackling in the stove reached Bony.
Gibley said:
How long do you intend living on here now old Wick-
ham s dead?
Just as long as it suits, Gibley. Anyone putting up an
argument?
You re a source of worry, that s all. I don t like old blokes
living alone. It s not safe. Anything could happen and they d
perish before anyone woke up to them being ill. That goes for
Knocker Harris, too, although he s a different case. If he
caught himself alight or fell into the river there wouldn t be
much to it. You got any relations or anything?
You know, Gibley, up in the back of Noo South, in my
time, there were towns called police-controlled . The police in
em could do pretty well what they liked, especially with
swagmen and old pensioners camped on the river near-by.
Would you like to know something?
I like learning, Luton. Make that tea strong.
It ll be strong enough to twitch your appendix. What you
don t know and what the quack don t know is that this house
and the land along the river right to the highway belongs to
me. You can tell Maltby that. And you can tell him, as well as
yourself, that I m the boss of this bit of country. Ben being
murdered don t leave me defenceless.
Well now, you don t say! Gibley said slowly. How
come? They haven t found Ben s will yet, have they?
Nobody don t need to. So neither you nor Maltby can
shift me. Like to learn some more?
Yair. I m in the mood. Where s the sugar?
When I came here to live I d sold a fairish bit of property
up in Noo South when the price of land and stock was going
up on the wool boom. So I got a lot of money to spend on
advertising and such like, and I got a friend or two who knows
how to do it. If you or Maltby interferes with Knocker, I ll
126
give you and the quack such a advertising that your ears will
burn right off your skulls.
I m not saying I was going to interfere with Knocker or
you, countered Gibley. All I m saying is that you both give
me a lot of worry, both living alone, and with no one living [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Linki