Dangerous Inheritance

by Dennis Wheatley

  For half an hour they sat nursing their hurts, then Richard went out again to make another reconnaissance. On his return he gloomily shook his head. ‘The majority of the Tamils are still down in the village. But a little group of them are squatting on this side of the river, only about a hundred yards away, keeping watch on the cave. As soon as they saw me they got to their feet; so we daren’t attempt to ford the river or they’d attack us again.’

  It was still not midday, but the sun was blazing down so that at the entrance to the cave it became unbearably hot and they had to withdraw well inside it. They had no torch and Marie Lou and Fleur had lost their handbags when first attacked, so the only means of exploring the mine was by Richard’s lighter and a box of matches that de Richleau carried for lighting his long Hoyo de Monterrey cigars. With this faint light Richard penetrated as far as he dared, hoping that he might come upon another entrance that would give them a better chance of escaping the Tamils; but the cave sloped straight down into the hillside, and when his lighter petered out he felt again that it would be dangerous to go any further in case, in the pitch darkness, he fell down some hidden shaft.

  After his abortive foray they reasoned that, although the d’Azavedos seemed to have deliberately abandoned them, they would not dare leave it at that. To save their faces they must give to the nearest police and also to Max some version of what had occurred. He had been the Duke’s personal servant for close on forty years and was devoted to his master. Although he was a very shy and timid man he was no fool, and was not likely to allow himself to be fobbed off with some dubious explanation for the party’s failure to return. It seemed, therefore, that in another hour or two help must reach them; so they reconciled themselves to waiting, with the best patience they could muster, for their state of siege to be relieved.

  Yet throughout the afternoon their situation remained unchanged and during it they began to feel hungry and thirsty. None of them had any means of satisfying their cravings and about the Duke the others were greatly worried. The physical strain from the time he had had to run for the plank until they had reached the cave must have been terrible for a man of his years. He was sitting with his back propped up against the side of the cave and when, from time to time, they asked him how he was feeling he endeavoured to reassure them. But during the long hours he spoke very little and was obviously suffering from extreme exhaustion.

  It was just on sundown when, without a murmur, he slid sideways and fell over on his face. With a cry of alarm Marie Lou threw herself on her knees beside him and lifted his head on to her lap.

  ‘Oh God!’ she gasped. ‘Greyeyes, dear Greyeyes! For God’s sake speak to me! You mustn’t die. We couldn’t bear it.’ But his mouth hung slackly open and his eyes remained closed.

  Richard thrust a hand under de Richleau’s shirt. After a moment he exclaimed with relief, ‘His heart’s still beating! He’s not dead. He’s only fainted.’

  ‘It’s this stifling atmosphere in here,’ said Fleur quickly. ‘And the fumes left by the explosion. It’s water we need. If only we had water we could bring him round.’

  ‘You’re right!’ her father declared. ‘I’ll have to get some.’

  ‘No!’ cried Marie Lou. ‘No, Richard. If you go out the Tamils will murder you.’

  ‘I must!’ he retorted sharply. ‘We can’t risk his dying for lack of it. There’s a place not far off where I could get down to the river. Both of you collect as many stones as you can carry. If we can keep the Tamils off even for five minutes that will be long enough for me to scramble down the bank and up again.’ As he spoke he quickly began to snatch up some of the larger stones that littered the floor of the cave.

  Without a word the two women followed his example, thrusting the rough stones hurriedly into their shirts.

  ‘Now,’ said Richard. ‘Everything depends on speed. We’ve got to run at them hell for leather. And remember the old dictum. Don’t fire until you can see the whites of their eyes.’

  Leaving the cave together they raced straight for the little group of squatting Tamils. There were five of them and, coming to their feet, they stared in amazement at the three figures dashing towards them.

  When the attackers were within thirty feet, Richard yelled ‘Fire!’ and three rocks hurtled through the air at the dark-skinned natives. Two hits were scored. Taken off their guard by this sudden attack the Tamils gave way. Pulling up, Richard and his companions delivered another volley, scoring two more hits. One of the Tamils was struck in the face and went over backwards. The others turned and ran.

  While Marie Lou and Fleur continued the bombardment, Richard slithered down the bank, took off the panama hat he was wearing and filled it with water. Then one of the Tamils looked back over his shoulder. Seeing that the two women were now alone he shouted to his companions and halted. The other four pulled up, then turned and all five began to run back towards the place where they had been squatting. But they had covered some seventy yards and by the time they were nearing it Richard had succeeded in getting up the bank again.

  Marie Lou and Fleur gallantly held their ground until Richard shouted to them to retreat. Fleur’s last stone rendered another Tamil hors de combat then, with her mother beside her, they made for the cave.

  Richard was some way ahead of them, carrying the precious water. For fear of spilling it he dared not run all out; so they reached the cave mouth together. The three remaining Tamils were only a dozen yards behind them, but Fleur and Marie Lou snatched up more stones and threw them as they backed into the entrance to the mine. Realising that their prey had now escaped the natives pulled up, stood there yelling abuse for a few minutes, then beat a retreat.

  Still panting, but triumphant, Richard said, ‘You two behaved like heroines; but… to quote Wellington … it was a damned close-run thing.’

  Kneeling beside the Duke, Marie Lou again took his head on her lap while Fleur dribbled some of the water into his mouth and bathed his face with it. To their heart-felt relief he opened his eyes and, after a few minutes, murmured, ‘Never fainted before … the … the heat… Sorry to have been a bother. I’ll soon be all right.’

  But they knew him to be far from all right, and continued to be desperately afraid that he might collapse before help reached them.

  After taking a few sips of water themselves, they put aside for him what remained. Then, to their joy, Marie Lou produced from inside her shirt four bananas. She had seen them at the spot where the Tamils had been keeping watch; then, when they had been driven off, she had run forward and snatched up the fruit.

  Fleur laughed for the first time in hours. ‘Douglas told me that here in Ceylon if they want to disparage a person they say, “He’s a banana”, and apply the word to anything so cheap that they can get it for next to nothing; but these are worth their weight in gold.’

  They fed one of the bananas slowly to the Duke, divided two between them, and kept the fourth to give him later in the night. For darkness was now falling and they feared that if help did not come soon a rescue party would fail to find them until the morning.

  Before long they were to suffer still further cause for dread. About two hours after Richard had fetched the water a stone whizzed without warning into the cave and clattered on the floor. It was followed immediately by a volley of a dozen, one of which struck Richard on the side of the face, gashing it badly. Under cover of the darkness the Tamils had crept up to within close range and in this new attack were seeking revenge for the casualties they had suffered.

  A swift retreat further into the stuffy cave was the only course open; yet as they made it they feared that was just what their enemies wanted, so that they could rush the entrance, then overwhelm them. As soon as they had carried de Richleau to safety, Richard grabbed up his cudgel and Fleur and Marie Lou threw stones back at the attackers. But in the first scramble what remained of the precious water was spilled and the last banana trampled underfoot.

  For desperate minutes they crouched staring ou
t into the darkness, but no attack matured and after a while the bombardment ceased; although only to be renewed again with odd stones and sudden volleys, from time to time, for over an hour.

  The strain of remaining constantly on the qui vive was appalling, and they now felt they would never be able to stick it out till morning. De Richleau lay unmoving at full length and Marie Lou was near collapse. Then there came the sounds of distant shouting. Wild cries suddenly rent the night outside the mine. There was a patter of naked feet and odd stones ceased to ricochet from the sides and roof of the cave.

  After a few minutes Richard cautiously advanced to the entrance to see if he could discover what had caused the stampede. He gave an excited cry, ‘The village is on fire! Come out and see! What the devil’s happening?’

  The women joined him and Fleur said, ‘It must be the Sinhalese. It was said on the radio last night that they were attacking the Tamils all over the island.’

  That seemed the only explanation, and for the next half-hour they watched the awful spectacle of a small community becoming the victims of the ferocious hatred of a much larger mob. The wooden houses and palm huts caught fire like tinder and by the lurid light of the flames they could see small dark figures running about, struggling together and being trampled on.

  At length the blaze died down and the place where the village had stood could be located only by scattered piles of glowing embers. They then debated whether to make their way to the village and ask the help of the Sinhalese to secure transport for the Duke to the nearest house where he could be put to bed; but decided against it. Shrill cries of agony and terror were still coming up from the jungle across the river, where solitary Tamils were being hunted down and their women being raped. It was against probability that any of those peasant Sinhalese would understand English; and maddened by blood lust as they were, it would have been too great a risk to count upon their not proving hostile.

  The small amount of water they had sipped up from Richard’s panama had only temporarily quenched their thirst, and a craving for more had been afflicting them for many hours; so, now the coast seemed clear, Richard made three more journeys to the river, while Fleur stood on guard nearby with a stone in her hand ready to throw if any natives suddenly appeared. The three hatsful enabled them to drink their fill as well as again temporarily reviving the Duke; but soon afterwards he became comatose.

  The night hours seemed interminable yet, desperately tired as they were, they did not sleep. They were all far too concerned for de Richleau and sent up prayer after prayer that the old man would live.

  At last dawn streaked the sky and, with the rapidity of the tropics, soon afterwards it became fully light. Another half-hour passed, then three police cars came speeding down the road towards the now deserted village where bodies lay sprawled among the charred remains of the burnt-out buildings. Richard was sitting hunched in the entrance of the cave. Standing up he gave a hoarse shout and began to wave. He was seen at once. Ten minutes later four policemen had crossed the bridge and were approaching him.

  Their leader was a big man who introduced himself as Inspector van Goens. Fleur, who had been reading up the history of Ceylon, recalled that the name of one of the Governors of Ceylon during the Dutch supremacy had been van Goens; so, although the Inspector obviously had some Asiatic blood, he was a ‘Burgher’, as the numerous descendants of Dutch colonists were termed.

  Having got the gist of Richard’s story, the Inspector proved quick, efficient and kindly. He said they had been notified the previous morning that four Europeans had been left stranded among rioting Tamils; but before the operator could get the name of the village where they were the line had gone dead, so they had supposed it to have been cut. Then, only an hour earlier, a report had come in that there had been a massacre at the Olenevka mine.

  Richard made no comment at the moment, but smiled sardonically at the thought of how clever the d’Azavedos had been. They could not now be accused of having failed to notify the police that a party of whites were in danger, but by refraining from giving their name or the place had sabotaged any hope of the party being rescued.

  Expecting that there would be casualties in the village the third police vehicle was an ambulance. A stretcher was brought up and the Duke carried down to it. The others walked, but were so exhausted by their ordeal that they had to be helped along the stony way. Thermos flasks of iced tea and flasks of brandy were produced to fortify them for the time being. Then the ambulance set off and, a little over an hour later, delivered them at the hospital in Ratnapura.

  They were still greatly concerned for de Richleau. When he had been carried out of the cave the light had shown his face to have turned an ugly shade of violet. Marie Lou, breaking down at last, had burst into tears and, holding his unresponsive hand, wept all through the bumpy journey. But, after a brief examination, the doctor in charge at the hospital said that the Duke’s heart was as sound as a bell and that as there was nothing physically wrong with him, there was a very good chance that he would pull round.

  Greatly comforted, Richard had the wound in his cheek dressed while Marie Lou and Fleur had their bruises treated. Then, utterly exhausted, they were put to bed, given sedatives and slept the clock round. By the evening de Richleau’s state had improved and the others had recovered sufficiently to eat a hearty meal. Inspector van Goens came to take a more detailed statement from Richard, then he said:

  ‘Old d’Azavedo is as crooked as they make them. That’s well known in these parts; and his son is no better. From what you tell me of this inheritance I’ve not a doubt in my own mind that they planned to get your old gentleman killed. We have questioned some Tamils who escaped and d’Azavedo undoubtedly provoked them. He told them that they were dirty scum, sacked the lot and gave them three days to quit; so it’s no wonder they acted as they did. When I went to the house he refused to see me. That lush young woman of his said he was in bed and prostrate with distress at having panicked and left you people at the mercy of the Tamils. The Duke’s manservant confirmed that. Of course they told him that they had telephoned the police, so a rescue party would have started out to find you; but the poor old boy sat up all night worrying himself sick and silly. I left him packing your clothes and we are sending a car to fetch him this evening.

  ‘Young d’Azavedo had gone off to Colombo, no doubt to stir up more trouble; because that’s just what the political gang to which he belongs wants. It was he who ‘phoned the police, and conveniently forgot to give his name or let us know from where he was speaking. But we can’t bring a case. There isn’t one they couldn’t knock the bottom out of in ten minutes. D’Azavedo had a perfect right to sack his Tamils if he wanted. It’s no crime to panic and desert people who are supposed to be your pals. The telephone line was cut, and there’s no proof that a Tamil didn’t cut it.’

  Richard gave a grim smile. ‘So that’s that. Anyway, we’re lucky to have escaped with our lives. How are things at the moment?’

  ‘Bad. Damn’ bad. And they will continue to be as long as we are saddled with this weak-kneed Government. To curry favour with the Buddhists they’ve curtailed the powers of the police, and we’d be fired if we laid a finger on one of these monks who are preaching murder up and down the country. Yesterday there were serious riots in Colombo. Still, that may be all for the best. Our Governor General, Sir Oliver Goonetilleke, is a good and strong man. He’s had enough, and this morning he took over. He has proclaimed a State of Emergency, which cuts the ground from under these dirty vote-catching politicians, and now we may have a chance of restoring law and order.’

  By midday on the 28th all of them except the Duke were fit to leave the hospital; so Richard went to the Rest House to secure rooms, but the Sinhalese manager told him in a surly manner that he had none that were free. Richard then went to the police station in the hope that van Goens might be able to tell him of suitable accommodation.

  The Inspector grinned at him and said, ‘The old swab has plenty o
f rooms. It’s the fact that you are British. Maybe you haven’t realised that this “Sinhalese Only” agitation isn’t aimed only at the Tamils, although they are the principal target. They want to get the last of the British out too, and the Dutch burghers like myself, and what we call the “Moormen”, who are Indian Mohammedans settled on the east coast. The Sinhalese want the whole country for themselves; and when they get it, God alone knows what an unholy mess they’ll make of it.’

  Nevertheless, van Goens proved very helpful. He offered to take Richard and Marie Lou into his own house and find a room for Fleur with friends of his. And Richard gladly accepted his offer.

  By the 30th, after four days of complete rest, the old Duke’s splendid constitution had fully restored him; so, having taken grateful leave of van Goens and his plump kindly wife, they hired two cars and drove back to Colombo.

  The State of Emergency was beginning to take effect. Now that troops and police were free of Bandaranaike’s wavering hand they were arresting, and even shooting, Sinhalese as well as Tamils whom they caught attempting to kill one another. This led to further outcries by the Sinhalese, egged on by the Marxists and Trotskyites, who were aiming to pull down the Socialist government. Even at the Galle Face, the staff had become slack, inefficient and rude to Europeans, whom they regarded as the secret enemies of their attaining absolute mastery of their island.

  In consequence, after the Duke had been back there for twenty-four hours he called the others into conference and said, ‘My friends, this is not good enough. Surly waiters, ill-cooked food, long delays in fetching drinks. I am too old to put up with this sort of treatment. If we are to remain in Ceylon much longer I favour renting a house up at Nuwara Eliya, where we shall be free from this unpleasant atmosphere.’