Sixty-Five Short Stories

by Somerset William Maugham

  '"Nothing very much," he said. "I went out after tiffin to shoot pigeon."

  '"Did you have any luck?" I asked.

  '"Oh, I got half a dozen. They were very shy."

  'But now he said: "If Reggie got back late, I dare say he thought it wasn't worth while to come here. I expect he's had a bath and when we get in we shall find him asleep in his chair."

  '"It's a good long ride from Kabulong," said the doctor's wife.

  '"He doesn't take the road, you know," Mrs Bronson explained. "He takes the short cut through the jungle."

  '"Can he get along on his bicycle?" I asked.

  '"Oh, yes, it's a very good track. It saves about a couple of miles."

  'We had just started another rubber when the bar-boy came in and said there was a police-sergeant outside who wanted to speak to me.

  '"What does he want?" I asked.

  'The boy said he didn't know, but he had two coolies with him.

  '"Curse him," I said.

  '"I'll give him hell if I find he's disturbed me for nothing."

  'I told the boy I'd come and I finished playing the hand. Then I got up.

  '"I won't be a minute," I said. "Deal for me, will you?" I added to Cartwright.

  'I went out and found the sergeant with two Malays waiting for me on the steps. I asked him what the devil he wanted. You can imagine my consternation when he told me that the Malays had come to the police-station and said there was a white man lying dead on the path that led through the jungle to Kabulong. I immediately thought of Bronson.

  '"Dead?" I cried.

  '"Yes, shot. Shot through the head. A white man with red hair."

  'Then I knew it was Reggie Bronson, and indeed, one of them naming his estate said he'd recognized him as the man. It was an awful shock. And there was Mrs Bronson in the card-room waiting impatiently for me to sort my cards and make a bid. For a moment I really didn't know what to do. I was frightfully upset. It was dreadful to give her such a terrible and unexpected blow without a word of preparation, but I found myself quite unable to think of any way to soften it. I told the sergeant and the coolies to wait and went back into the club. I tried to pull myself together. As I entered the card-room Mrs Bronson said: "You've been an awful long time." Then she caught sight of my face. "Is anything the matter?" I saw her clench her fists and go white. You'd have thought she had a presentiment of evil.

  '"Something dreadful has happened," I said, and my throat was all closed up so that my voice sounded even to myself hoarse and uncanny. "There's been an accident. Your husband's been wounded."

  'She gave a long gasp, it was not exactly a scream, it reminded me oddly of a piece of silk torn in two.

  '"Wounded?"

  'She leapt to her feet and with her eyes starting from her head stared at Cartwright. The effect on him was ghastly, he fell back in his chair and went as white as death.

  '"Very, very badly, I'm afraid," I added.

  'I knew that I must tell her the truth, and tell it then, but I couldn't bring myself to tell it all at once.

  '"Is he," her lips trembled so that she could hardly form the words, "is he-conscious?"

  'I looked at her for a moment without answering. I'd have given a thousand pounds not to have to.

  '"No, I'm afraid he isn't."

  'Mrs Bronson stared at me as though she were trying to see right into my brain.

  '"Is he dead?"

  'I thought the only thing was to get it out and have done with it.

  '"Yes, he was dead when they found him."

  'Mrs Bronson collapsed into her chair and burst into tears.

  '"Oh, my God," she muttered. "Oh, my God."

  'The doctor's wife went to her and put her arms round her. Mrs Bronson with her face in her hands swayed to and fro weeping hysterically. Cartwright, with that livid face, sat quite still, his mouth open, and stared at her. You might have thought he was turned to stone.

  '"Oh, my dear, my dear," said the doctor's wife, "you must try and pull yourself together." Then, turning to me, "Get her a glass of water and fetch Harry."

  'Harry was her husband and he was playing billiards. I went in and told him what had happened.

  '"A glass of water be damned," he said. "What she wants is a good long peg of brandy."

  'We took it in to her and forced her to drink it and gradually the violence of her emotion exhausted itself. In a few minutes the doctor's wife was able to take her into the ladies' lavatory to wash her face. I'd made up my mind now what had better be done. I could see that Cartwright wasn't good for much; he was all to pieces. I could understand that it was a fearful shock to him, for after all Bronson was his greatest friend and had done everything in the world for him.

  '"You look as though you'd be all the better for a drop of brandy yourself, old man," I said to him.

  'He made an effort.

  '"It's shaken me, you know," he said. "I . . . I didn't . . ." He stopped as though his mind was wandering; he was still fearfully pale; he took out a packet of cigarettes and struck a match, but his hand was shaking so that he could hardly manage it.

  '"Yes, I'll have a brandy."

  '"Boy," I shouted, and then to Cartwright: "Now, are you fit to take Mrs Bronson home?"

  '"Oh, yes," he answered.

  '"That's good. The doctor and I will go along with the coolies and some police to where the body is."

  '"Will you bring him back to the bungalow?" asked Cartwright.

  '"I think he'd better be taken straight to the mortuary," said the doctor before I could answer. "I shall have to do a P.M."

  'When Mrs Bronson, now so much calmer that I was amazed, came back, I told her what I suggested. The doctor's wife, kind woman, offered to go with her and spend the night at the bungalow, but Mrs Bronson wouldn't hear of it. She said she would be perfectly all right, and when the doctor's wife insisted-you know how bent some people are on forcing their kindness on those in trouble-she turned on her almost fiercely.

  '"No, no, I must be alone," she said. "I really must. And Theo will be there."

  'They got into the trap. Theo took the reins and they drove off. We started after them, the doctor and I, while the sergeant and the coolies followed. I had sent my seis to the police-station with instructions to send two men to the place where the body was lying. We soon passed Mrs Bronson and Cartwright.

  '"All right?" I called.

  '"Yes," he answered.

  'For some time the doctor and I drove without saying a word; we were both of us deeply shocked. I was worried as well. Somehow or other I'd got to find the murderers and I foresaw that it would be no easy matter.

  '"Do you suppose it was gang robbery?" said the doctor at last.

  'He might have been reading my thoughts.

  '"I don't think there's a doubt of it," I answered. "They knew he'd gone into Kabulong to get the wages and lay in wait for him on the way back. Of course he should never have come alone through the jungle when everyone knew he had a packet of money with him."

  '"He'd done it for years," said the doctor. "And he's not the only one."

  '"I know. The question is, how we're going to get hold of the fellows that did it."

  '"You don't think the two coolies who say they found him could have had anything to do with it?"

  '"No. They wouldn't have the nerve. I think a pair of Chinks might think out a trick like that, but I don't believe Malays would. They'd be much too frightened. Of course we'll keep an eye on them. We shall soon see if they seem to have any money to fling about."

  '"It's awful for Mrs Bronson," said the doctor. "It would have been bad enough at any time, but now she's going to have a baby . . ."

  '"I didn't know that," I said, interrupting him.

  '"No, for some reason she wanted to keep it dark. She was rather funny about it, I thought."

  'I recollected then that little passage between Mrs Bronson and the doctor's wife. I understood why that good woman had been so anxious that Mrs Bronson should not overt
ire herself.

  '"It's strange her having a baby after being married so many years."

  '"It happens, you know. But it was a surprise to her. When first she came to see me and I told her what was the matter she fainted, and then she began to cry. I should have thought she'd be as pleased as Punch. She told me that Bronson didn't like children and he'd be awfully bored at the idea, and she made me promise to say nothing about it till she had had a chance of breaking it to him gradually."

  'I reflected for a moment.

  '"He was the kind of breezy, hearty cove whom you'd expect to be as keen as mustard on having kids."

  '"You never can tell. Some people are very selfish and just don't want the bother."

  '"Well, how did he take it when she did tell him? Wasn't he rather bucked?"

  '"I don't know that she ever told him. Though she couldn't have waited much longer; unless I'm very much mistaken she ought to be confined in about five months."

  '"Poor devil," I said. "You know, I've got a notion that he'd have been most awfully pleased to know."

  'We drove in silence for the rest of the way and at last came to the point at which the short cut to Kabulong branched off from the road. Here we stopped and in a minute or two my trap, in which were the police-sergeant and the two Malays, came up. We took the head-lamps to light us on our way. I left the doctor's seis to look after the ponies and told him that when the policemen came they were to follow the path till they found us. The two coolies, carrying the lamps, walked ahead, and we followed them. It was a fairly broad track, wide enough for a small cart to pass, and before the road was built it had been the highway between Kabulong and Alor Lipis. It was firm to the foot and good walking. The surface here and there was sandy and in places you could see quite plainly the mark of a bicycle wheel. It was the track Bronson had left on his way to Kabulong.

  'We walked twenty minutes, I should think, in single file, and on a sudden the coolies, with a cry, stopped sharply. The sight had come upon them so abruptly that notwithstanding they were expecting it they were startled. There, in the middle of the pathway lit dimly by the lamps the coolies carried, lay Bronson; he'd fallen over his bicycle and lay across it in an ungainly heap. I was too shocked to speak, and I think the doctor was, too. But in our silence the din of the jungle was deafening; those damned cicadas and the bull-frogs were making enough row to wake the dead. Even under ordinary circumstances the noise of the jungle at night is uncanny; because you feel that at that hour there should be utter silence it has an odd effect on you, that ceaseless and invisible uproar that beats upon your nerves. It surrounds you and hems you in. But just then, believe me, it was terrifying. That poor fellow lay dead and all round him the restless life of the jungle pursued its indifferent and ferocious course.

  'He was lying face downwards. The sergeant and the coolies looked at me as though awaiting an order. I was a young fellow then and I'm afraid I felt a little frightened. Though I couldn't see the face I had no doubt that it was Bronson, but I felt that I ought to turn the body over to make sure. I suppose we all have our little squeamishnesses; you know, I've always had a horrible distaste for touching dead bodies. I've had to do it fairly often now, but it still makes me feel slightly sick.

  '"It's Bronson, all right," I said.

  'The doctor-by George, it was lucky for me he was there-the doctor bent down and turned the head. The sergeant directed the lamp on the dead face.

  '"My God, half his head's been shot away," I cried.

  '"Yes."

  'The doctor stood up straight and wiped his hands on the leaves of a tree that grew beside the path.

  '"Is he quite dead?" I asked.

  '"Oh, yes. Death must have been instantaneous. Whoever shot him must have fired at pretty close range."

  '"How long has he been dead, d'you think?"

  '"Oh, I don't know, several hours."

  '"He would have passed here about five o'clock, I suppose, if he was expecting to get to the club for a rubber at six."

  '"There's no sign of any struggle," said the doctor.

  '"No, there wouldn't be. He was shot as he was riding along."

  'I looked at the body for a little while. I couldn't help thinking how short a time ago it was since Bronson, noisy and loud-voiced, had been so full of hearty life.

  '"You haven't forgotten that he had the coolies' wages on him," said the doctor.

  '"No, we'd better search him."

  '"Shall we turn him over?"

  '"Wait a minute. Let us just have a look at the ground first."

  'I took the lamp and as carefully as I could looked all about me. Just where he had fallen the sandy pathway was trodden and confused; there were our footprints and the footprints of the coolies who had found him. I walked two or three paces and then saw quite clearly the mark of his bicycle wheels; he had been riding straight and steadily. I followed it to the spot where he had fallen, to just before that, rather, and there saw very distinctly the prints on each side of the wheels of his heavy boots. He had evidently stopped there and put his feet to the ground, then he'd started off again, there was a great wobble of the wheel, and he'd crashed.

  '"Now let's search him," I said.

  'The doctor and the sergeant turned the body over and one of the coolies dragged the bicycle away. They laid Bronson on his back. I supposed he would have had the money partly in notes and partly in silver. The silver would have been in a bag attached to the bicycle and a glance told me that it was not there. The notes he would have put in a wallet. It would have been a good thick bundle. I felt him all over, but there was nothing; then I turned out the pockets, they were all empty except the right trouser pocket, in which there was a little small change.

  '"Didn't he always wear a watch?" asked the doctor.

  '"Yes, of course he did."

  'I remembered that he wore the chain through the buttonhole in the lapel of his coat and the watch and some seals and things in his handkerchief pocket. But watch and chain were gone.

  '"Well, there's not much doubt now, is there?" I said.

  'It was clear that he had been attacked by gang robbers who knew he had money on him. After killing him they had stripped him of everything. I suddenly remembered the footprints that proved that for a moment he had stood still. I saw exactly how it had been done. One of them had stopped him on some pretext and then, just as he started off again, another, slipping out of the jungle behind him, had emptied the two barrels of a gun into his head.

  '"Well," I said to the doctor, "it's up to me to catch them, and I'll tell you what, it'll be a real pleasure to me to see them hanged."

  'Of course there was an inquest. Mrs Bronson gave evidence, but she had nothing to say that we didn't know already. Bronson had left the bungalow about eleven, he was to have tiffin at Kabulong and was to be back between five and six. He asked her not to wait for him, he said he would just put the money in the safe and come straight to the club. Cartwright confirmed this. He had lunched alone with Mrs Bronson and after a smoke had gone out with a gun to shoot pigeon. He had got in about five, a little before perhaps, had a bath and changed to play tennis. He was shooting not far from the place where Bronson was killed, but never heard a shot. That, of course, meant nothing; what with the cicadas and the frogs and the other sounds of the jungle, he would have had to be very near to hear anything; and besides, Cartwright was probably back in the bungalow before Bronson was killed. We traced Bronson's movements. He had lunched at the club, he had got money at the bank just before it closed, had gone back to the club and had one more drink, and then started off on his bicycle. He had crossed the river by the ferry; the ferryman remembered distinctly seeing him, but was positive that no one else with a bicycle had crossed. That looked as though the murderers were not following, but lying in wait for him. He rode along the main road for a couple of miles and then took the path which was a short cut to his bungalow.

  'It looked as though he had been killed by men who knew his habits, and suspicion, o
f course, fell immediately on the coolies of his estate. We examined them all-pretty carefully-but there was not a scrap of evidence to connect any of them with the crime. In fact, most of them were able satisfactorily to account for their actions and those who couldn't seemed to me for one reason and another out of the running. There were a few bad characters among the Chinese at Alor Lipis and I had them looked up. But somehow I didn't think it was the work of the Chinese; I had a feeling that Chinese would have used revolvers and not a shotgun. Anyhow, I could find out nothing there. So then we offered a reward of a thousand dollars to anyone who could put us in the way of discovering the murderers. I thought there were a good many people to whom it would appeal to do a public service and at the same time earn a tidy sum. But I knew that an informer would take no risks, he wouldn't want to tell what he knew till he knew he could tell it safely, and I armed myself with patience. The reward had brightened the interest of my police and I knew they would use every means they had to bring the criminals to trial. In a case like this they could do more than I.

  'But it was strange, nothing happened; the reward seemed to tempt no one. I cast my net a little wider. There were two or three kampongs along the road and I wondered if the murderers were there; I saw the headmen, but got no help from them. It was not that they would tell me nothing, I was sure they had nothing to tell. I talked to the bad hats, but there was absolutely nothing to connect them with the murder. There was not the shadow of a clue.

  '"Very well, my lads," I said to myself, as I drove back to Alor Lipis, "there's no hurry; the rope won't spoil by keeping."

  'The scoundrels had got away with a considerable sum, but money is no good unless you spend it. I felt I knew the native temperament enough to be sure that the possession of it was a constant temptation. The Malays are an extravagant race, and a race of gamblers, and the Chinese are gamblers, too; sooner or later someone would start flinging his money about, and then I should want to know where it came from. With a few well-directed questions I thought I could put the fear of God into the fellow and then, if I knew my business, it shouldn't be hard to get a full confession.