Gaze stopped once more and looked at me with a sort of hesitation. ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.
‘I’m afraid I’m telling you this story very badly,’ he said. ‘I seem to be just rambling on. I’m not a damned novelist, I’m a policeman, and I’m just telling you the facts as I saw them at the time; and from my point of view all the circumstances are important; it’s important, I mean, to realize what sort of people they were.’
‘Of course. Fire away.’
‘I remember someone, a woman, I think it was, the doctor’s wife, asking Mrs Bronson if she didn’t get tired sometimes of having a stranger in the house. You know, in places like Alor Lipis there isn’t very much to talk about, and if you didn’t talk about your neighbours there’d be nothing to talk about at all.’
“Oh, no,” she said, “Theo’s no trouble.” She turned to her husband, who was sitting there mopping his face. ‘We like having him, don’t we?”
“He’s all right,” said Bronson.
“‘What does he do with himself all day long?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mrs Bronson. “He walks round the estate with Reggie sometimes, and he shoots a bit. He talks to me.”
“He’s always glad to make himself useful,” said Bronson. “The other day when I had a go of fever, he took over my work and I just lay in bed and had a good time.’
‘Hadn’t the Bronsons any children?’ I asked.
‘No,’ Gaze answered. ‘I don’t know why, they could well have afforded it.’ Gaze leant back in his chair. He took off his glasses and wiped them. They were very strong and hideously distorted his eyes. Without them he wasn’t so homely. The chik-chak on the ceiling gave its strangely human cry. It was like the cackle of an idiot child.
‘Bronson was killed,’ said Gaze suddenly.
‘Killed?’
‘Yes, murdered. I shall never forget that night. We’d been playing tennis, Mrs Bronson and the doctor’s wife, Theo Cartwright and I; and then we played bridge. Cartwright had been off his game and when we sat down at the bridge-table Mrs Bronson said to him: ‘Well, Theo, if you play bridge as rottenly as you played tennis we shall lose our shirts.”
‘We’d just had a drink, but she called the boy and ordered another round. “‘Put that down your throat,” she said to him, “and don’t call without top honours and an outside trick.”
‘Bronson hadn’t turned up, he’d cycled in to Kabulong to get the money to pay his coolies their wages and was to come along to the club when he got back. The Bronsons’ estate was nearer Alor Lipis than it was to Kabulong, but Kabulong was a more important place commercially, and Bronson banked there.
“‘Reggie can cut in when he turns up,” said Mrs Bronson.
“He’s late, isn’t he?” said the doctor’s wife.
“‘Very. He said he wouldn’t get back in time for tennis, but would be here for a rubber. I have a suspicion that he went to the club at Kabulong instead of coming straight home and is having drinks, the ruffian.”
“Oh, well, he can put away a good many without their having much effect on him,” I laughed.
“He’s getting fat, you know. He’ll have to be careful.”
‘We sat by ourselves in the card-room and we could hear the crowd in the billiard-room talking and laughing. They were all on the merry side. It was getting on to Christmas Day and we were all letting ourselves go a little. There was going to be a dance on Christmas Eve.
‘I remembered afterwards that when we sat down the doctor’s wife asked Mrs Bronson if she wasn’t tired.
“‘Not a bit,” she said. ‘Why should I be?”.
‘I didn’t know why she flushed.
“I was afraid the tennis might have been too much for you,” said the doctor’s wife.
“Oh, no,” answered Mrs Bronson, a trifle abruptly, I thought, as though she didn’t want to discuss the matter.
‘I didn’t know what they meant, and indeed it wasn’t till later that I remembered the incident.
‘We played three or four rubbers and still Bronson didn’t turn up.
n wonder what’s happened to him,” said his wife. “I can’t think why he should be so late.”
‘Cartwright was always silent, but this evening he had hardly opened his mouth. I thought he was tired and asked him what he’d been doing. “‘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.”
&
nbsp; ‘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.
Tor 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 overtire 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?” n 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.
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