The Devil's Caress

by June Wright

  “I was still on Saracen. I watched Waring, but I didn’t feel sorry for him. We were half-way across this fairway when he started to call out for Shane again. I could barely hear him above the wind. At the foot of this tee he fell again. I rode right up close and watched him. He was face downwards in the grass but he roused himself and said something. Then I told him who I was.

  “I told him about my father and how I hated him. I enjoyed orating from the back of a horse with the wind and the rain beating down on me and Kingsley Waring huddled at my feet. He tried to drag himself up this slope. Just outside the shelter he collapsed completely and remained still.

  “I slipped off the horse and shook him. I wanted him to hear what I had to say, but he would not move. Then I thought of taking off his clothes instead, and how cold and wet and humiliated he would be when he woke up.”

  “Oh, Todd!” Marsh said, in a low voice. “Why didn’t you go for help? He was ill.”

  He pressed closer to her. “I didn’t know,” he whispered. “He was so arrogant and healthy when my father was ill. Don’t blame me, please, darling. I did fold up his clothes and put them in the shelter. That was when Saracen got away and spoilt things. I had to walk home in the wet.

  “I don’t think Mother knew about it. She has never said anything. That night I slept so well. Marsh, I think I dreamed of you. I woke up thinking of you, I know. I’d forgotten about Waring. Then you came for help and I remembered in a vague faraway sort of manner, as though the night before had been part of my dream about you. Even when Shane found the horse-shoe I still didn’t realize fully that I had been with Waring the night before. But when I left you I began to think and the incident became more real. Then there were whispers about the village.”

  “What whispers?” Marsh asked, stiffening.

  He seized her hand and started to stroke it. “You know what small townships are, darling. And the Warings hadn’t made themselves liked amongst the natives. Then there’s Simon Morrow. It’s well known about him and Katherine Waring.”

  “Dr. Kate avoids him,” the girl said sharply. “What foundation has that malicious rumour?”

  “None probably,” he answered soothingly. “But, believe me, Marsh, those who are close to the soil and the sea know more of human psychology than your greatest psychiatrist. I’m telling you what I know. Don’t be annoyed.”

  “We must go,” Marsh said, disengaging herself. “The rain has eased a little. It must be getting late.”

  She got to her feet and looked down at Todd. There was nothing to be gained by prolonging the conversation. It was typical of Marsh, who, unlike most women, had no desire to turn Todd’s confession over and over. What he had done he was not responsible for.

  “Don’t go back to Reliance,” Todd said, one hand around her wrist. “Come back to the hotel and have dinner with me.”

  There was an amazing strength in the slim brown fingers. His possessive touch irritated her a little.

  “Go back to your mother,” she replied, trying to hide her impatience. “She knows how to look after you. I’ll come and see you before I go.”

  The grip on her hand increased. Todd stood up. “But I want to talk to you, Marsh. You must have dinner with me. I need you to talk to.”

  “Oh, Todd!” she exclaimed, exasperated. “I can’t do as you want just because you find me sympathetic. It’s no good pretending. I’m leaving Matthews tomorrow and I am not coming back. I’m sailing for England at the end of the week. I shall probably be away at least two years. Perhaps we may meet again when I come back.”

  He was very pale. The skin was taut and shining over his cheek-bones. “You mustn’t go,” he said, slurring his words again. “You said before it was not impossible. I thought you meant it.”

  Marsh searched for something soothing to put him off, but he noticed her hesitation at once. He seized her by the arms just above the elbows.

  “I wish,” he said, in a low shaking voice, “I wish I’d pulled you off the cliff with me. I wanted to because we’d both be much happier dead. Now I wish I’d done it because . . . damn you, you’re like all doctors. A desperate case is of great concern and moment, the convalescence a time of retrospective triumph and the cure a signal for disinterest and search for another desperate case in order to boost the professional ego. Be damned to you all!”

  He released her so abruptly that she staggered and lurched against the wall of the shelter. He picked up the two golf-sticks they had set out with so blithely and in a childish gesture of angry despair broke one in half. The two pieces were sent spinning over the cliff. Then he started off across the fairway alone.

  “Todd!” Marsh called after him half-heartedly. He broke into a run, but did not glance back. Shrugging slightly, she turned towards Reliance.

  II

  The wind blew again from the ocean side of Matthews. It rushed along the road cold and fierce, just as it had on the evening of the girl’s arrival. The leaden sky had broken into heavy masses of blue-grey clouds. It was a long hard walk back to Reliance, but as she drew nearer Marsh felt no anticipatory sense of relief.

  She entered the silence of the ti-tree scrub. The wind only touched the tops of the scraggy bushes, its sound smothered. The abrupt break from the blustery road to the quiet track brought home to her the isolated position in which Reliance stood. When the house was crowded she had not noticed it, but now only the hostile neurotic nurse and the ineffectual Miss Jennet remained with Katherine Waring.

  She fancied that the silence and the loneliness meant something; that she would not come out of both untouched—that they were a prelude to some hitherto intangible fear becoming definite.

  Her fancies became more real as the house came into view. It was rain-swept, dark and cold-looking. There was no smoke blowing wildly from the kitchen chimney-stack. Even Miss Jennet’s radio was silent. Rex was missing from his customary place and the leash which usually hung on the wall was gone. His sleeping-mat had been kicked into a corner.

  It is like a deserted house, Marsh thought. And she shivered as she mounted the verandah steps.

  But as she entered the house she could hear voices; a low murmur from the library. On the table at the foot of the stairs lay a tweed cap with a pair of pigskin gloves thrown negligently across it.

  Marsh was no longer led by reason. During the last days her self-discipline had gradually given way to impulse. Her spirit, weakened by doubt and fear, could not fight against the desire to overhear the conversation between Katherine and Simon Morrow.

  She crept along the passage to the half-open door.

  “Where is she?” Morrow was asking.

  “In the laboratory.” Katherine’s voice was hard and clipped, unlike her customary mellow tones.

  “You’re taking a terrible risk.” Morrow’s voice was different, too. It sounded angry and apprehensive. “Why don’t you get rid of her as well?”

  “I dare not. There has been enough talk about Reliance already. Perhaps later something may be—contrived.”

  The man’s laugh and reply made Marsh shrink back. “You have already contrived so much. You are a remarkable woman, my dear. I think I am half afraid of you.”

  Then she trembled suddenly as her own name was spoken.

  “What about the little Mowbray? I have already warned you of her activities.”

  “Marsh?” said Katherine softly. “Ah, yes, Marsh! You may leave her to me, Simon. You had better go now. It would not do for her to find you here.”

  Marsh backed hastily to the stairs and fled up them silently.

  In her own room she stood with her back against the door panting, her eyes moving wildly around. She crossed to the window. The sloping roof of the verandah lay outside. The drop from the roof to the ground was steep, but there was a water-tank she could get down to first. She gazed longingly at her little car under the pine-trees.


  She put one leg over the sill, half-turning towards the room. In doing so her distraught gaze was caught by a white envelope propped on the dressing-table. Her name was on it. For a long moment she sat astride, staring at the tantalizing white square.

  Part of her mind said: You’re panicking. There is a saner way out of all this. Read the letter and then take action.

  But the instinct for immediate escape was strong. Even as she vacillated, footsteps sounded coming up the stairs. Quickly she swung her leg back, snatched up the letter and hid it in a drawer. Then she drew a deep breath and, walking to her door, deliberately opened it.

  Katherine Waring was standing at the head of the stairs where a low lighted lamp made the shadows move grotesquely on the walls about her.

  “I did not know you had come in, Marsh,” she said, smiling at her. But to the girl the smile seemed forced, and the grey eyes above cold and speculative.

  “I came straight up,” she answered huskily. “I was caught in the rain.”

  “Change your clothes and then come down to the library. I will serve dinner in there as there is only the two of us.”

  “Where is Miss Jennet?” the girl asked, waiting for Katherine to turn away first.

  “Jennet went back to town on the mail-car this afternoon.”

  If only she would not stare at me so closely, Marsh thought. Her nerve was nearly breaking.

  “And Miss Donne?”

  At last Katherine Waring glanced away. “Betty went with her,” she said over her shoulder. “Will you be ready in twenty minutes?” This time Marsh was certain she was lying.

  Back in her own room she opened the letter with wet shaking fingers. It was from Betty Donne. She read it hurriedly.

  … warning you . . . Dr. Kate . . . evil through and through . . . all her fault . . . if anything happens to me she is the cause.

  A little moan escaped Marsh, a sound of fear and despair. She clung to the dressing-table for support.

  Then sheer animal courage—an instinct for survival made her brace herself. She had twenty minutes before Dr. Kate would come looking for her. She would not know that Marsh had overheard her telling Simon Morrow that Betty was in the laboratory. She had enough time to release the girl and get away to safety.

  The climb from the window was accomplished easily. She crept among the outbuildings until she reached the shelter of the ti-tree. It was dark now. Night had come earlier with the low inky clouds, and she had to feel her way along the path to the laboratory.

  A faint glow came from the window. She approached it cautiously and peered in. A shaded lamp stood on the bench revealing faintly the outline of a figure lying on the divan.

  Her hand shook as she fitted her key into the lock—the key Shane had given her.

  “Betty!” she said softly and crossed the room.

  But the woman lying asleep on the divan was not the nurse but Miss Jennet. Marsh stared down at her in fear and perplexity. Katherine said she had gone back to town on the mail-car.

  “Miss Jennet! Wake up. Where is Betty Donne? Why are you here?”

  But even as she asked the question she remembered Simon Morrow’s “Why don’t you get rid of her, too?” Miss Jennet was a menace to their safety. She knew too much—just as Betty Donne had.

  The woman was stirring. “Is that you, Kate? I had a lovely sleep. What was it you gave me? Oh, it’s you, Dr. Mowbray.”

  Dr. Kate must have drugged her, Marsh thought. “Quickly, Miss Jennet, we must get away from here.”

  Miss Jennet smiled up at her. “I don’t quite understand. Kate told me to stay here until she came for me.”

  “Please, Miss Jennet, come quickly. I can’t explain now, but you mustn’t stay here.”

  “Did Kate say for me to go with you?” she asked doubtfully.

  “Yes,” lied Marsh unhesitatingly. “Please hurry. Here, let me help you up.”

  She took the woman’s arm and shepherded her to the door. “Don’t talk until we get to the road,” she ordered. “And try and walk quietly.”

  “I don’t understand,” Miss Jennet said again. “Are we running away from Kate?”

  “Hush!” said the girl. She dragged her unwillingly through the ti-tree.

  On the windy road she asked: “What happened? Where is Betty?”

  “Miss Donne? Why, isn’t she at home with Kate?”

  A sudden coldness gripped Marsh’s heart. She shook her head.

  “That’s funny,” Miss Jennet observed. “I hope Kate is managing about dinner all right, because she said when she tucked me up in the laboratory this afternoon that Miss Donne would cook it.”

  “Why did Dr. Kate drug you?”

  “Drug me? Did she? She gave me something because she said I didn’t look well. Can we go back now, please?”

  “No, you mustn’t go back. I know you don’t understand, Miss Jennet, but please trust me.”

  “Where are we going, then?” the woman asked plaintively. “It’s cold and wet here.”

  Yes, where? Marsh thought, looking around her mechanically. There were the marks of a horse’s hooves in the soft ground bordering the road. “Shane!” she said aloud. And at once the panic and perplexity left her.

  Shane was so strong and direct and unafraid. She remembered his air of indifference to those he met and his imperturbability in crises and dangerous undertakings like the exhumation of Sam’s body. His very unpleasantness had won a sort of respect and liking from her. Shane would know what to do next.

  “We will go to a—a friend of mine,” she said. “He lives in a cottage the other side of the cove. He knows all about Dr. Kate.”

  The sudden bitterness in her voice made Miss Jennet say timidly, “Have you and Kate quarrelled?”

  Marsh laughed shortly and patted her arm. “No, we haven’t quarrelled. Don’t worry yourself about things. This way, and stay close to me.”

  III

  Together they struggled against the wind and rain. It was a silent tiring journey, broken only by Miss Jennet’s panted complaint that she was missing the twenty-seventh episode of The Mystery of Mallow House.

  Presently they saw a light flickering through the rain and heard the clang and whine of the windmill belonging to Shane’s cottage. The light shone from the tiny sitting-room. It looked warm and golden to Marsh as she crossed the verandah and peered in. Shane sat at the table, his head bent between his outstretched arms. A glass, half full of whisky, was beside him.

  “Shane!” she called, tapping at the window. “Open up. I must talk to you.”

  The man stirred, rolling his head to one side. His eyes were half-closed. Why, he’s drunk, Marsh thought with surprise and disgust.

  She called his name louder and banged against the wall of the cottage. Shane’s eyes opened slowly. He sat up, stretching out a fumbling hand for the tumbler. Then he saw Marsh at the window.

  “Open up!” she ordered again. She waited until he had got to his feet unsteadily and then went to the door. She pressed against it, ready for the bolt to be removed. It was opened with a jerk so that she and Miss Jennet stumbled across the threshold on top of him. He reeled backwards and started to laugh idiotically.

  “You would be drunk tonight,” the girl said bitterly. “Tonight of all nights. I never thought you capable of it. Why do people spring their unpleasant surprises at the worst possible moments?”

  “I was celebrating,” he said, slurring the word. “Celebrating my return to the medical world of Melbourne. Going up to town tomorrow. Since you’re here you can be the first to welcome me back. Two’s better at this game. Do you good to get drunk, Mowbray. Take some of the starch out of you. Come on, what’ll it be?”

  Although her mind was on more urgent matters, Marsh observed him curiously. “I believe you’re afraid. That’s why you have been drinking.”

 
The glass slipped from his hand, and rolled towards the edge of the table. He surveyed her resentfully. “Damn you!” he said. “Come on, what’ll you drink? Let’s drink hard for tomorrow I face the medical moguls of Collins Street again. Will they remember Bruce Shane or not? That’s what I’ll be thinking. Of course I’m afraid. What happened once might happen again.”

  “Nonsense,” she said bracingly. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Like all men you exaggerate your petty hurts. One minute you’re all bombast, then some trivial thing will send you into a weak huddle. Forget your paltry complex, for I need your help.”

  Either he was using his annoying trick of ignoring her or he did not comprehend what she said. Refilling his glass he lay outstretched on the couch. Another few drinks and he would be sodden and insensible.

  Marsh shook his shoulder urgently. “Listen, Shane! You were right about Dr. Kate. I know now. I think I knew all along. But tonight I overheard her talking to Simon Morrow. She has done something to her nurse, Betty Donne. Then it was to be Miss Jennet here, and—and possibly me.”

  Into his dull eyes came a gleam. “Katherine Waring? By tomorrow night she’ll be in gaol.”

  Miss Jennet let out a faint scream. “Try and be calm.” the girl urged her quietly.

  “But did you hear what that nasty young man said? My dearest Kate in gaol! Oh dear, whatever can I do?”

  “Quiet!” Marsh said impatiently. She went over to the couch and tried to rouse the man. “No use,” she said at last. “We’ll have to stay here until he sobers up.”

  “Stay here? But why? Can’t we go back to Kate now? I really feel we must warn her about this horrid person.”

  Marsh set her teeth against her rising irritation. “Listen, Miss Jennet. I know all this seems puzzling, but you can’t go back to Reliance. It’s not safe for you.”

  “Safe? But Kate has always looked after me. I’d always be safe with her.”

  “Not now. One day soon she would make you drink something or give you an injection which would kill you. And when you were dead she would say it was an accident like Sam’s death or due to illness like her husband’s.”