The Island Where Time Stands Still

by Dennis Wheatley

  These thoughts raced through Gregory’s mind in less than half a minute. During it he had remained absolutely rigid, and although he was not aware of it his staring eyes gave the impression that he was in a fit. Without speaking to him Wu-ming straightened up and turned away.

  Gregory felt certain he was about to fetch the poison from the dressing-table. Gathering his strength he swung his legs off the bed and sat up. His head began to swim but, stretching out his hand, he grasped a heavy torch that lay on his bed-side shelf. At that moment the cabin door opened and Foo came in.

  The sweat was streaming down Gregory’s face and his mouth sagged open. It was possible that, believing him to be at dinner, Foo had come to tidy the cabin; but his appearance on the scene might have a very different explanation. Gregory’s heart suddenly began to thud with even greater apprehension. It was Foo who had brought him the poisoned cocktail. If his young protégé had been suborned by Wu-ming and was his accomplice the game was up. He might have fought off Wu-ming alone, but in his present state he could not possibly prove a match for the two of them.

  Foo’s face showed blank surprise; but that might have been at finding Gregory still alive. On hearing Gregory move Wu-ming swung round and stared at him. His eyes were bloodshot, his face demoniac with pain, strain and fear. Suddenly he found his voice. It came half strangled at first then rose to a shout as he brandished the heavy torch:

  ‘Stay where you are! I’ll brain the first of you who tries to lay a hand on me!’

  The cabin door was still open and his raised voice could have been heard by anyone passing along the deck outside. Wu-ming and Foo exchanged a swift glance of consternation, then the former said, ‘He must have had some form of fit and gone out of his mind.’

  ‘I’m not out of my mind!’ Gregory cried angrily.

  ‘Then why do you threaten us?’ Wu-ming asked. ‘It must be that a demon has got into you.’

  Gregory glared at him. ‘You know what’s the matter with me, or you wouldn’t be here.’

  Wu-ming’s expression remained blank and he shook his head. ‘When you did not come in to dinner, we wondered what had happened to you; and I volunteered to find out. Since you will not let me help you, I will go and tell the others of the strange manner in which you have been afflicted.’

  As he turned on his heel and left the cabin, Foo stepped forward again. He looked so genuinely distressed that Gregory now felt doubt of his complicity. It might be that he owed his life to Foo’s timely arrival, as it had occurred well before he had recovered his power to shout for help. Yet it was Foo who had brought him the poison. It was possible that during the past few days Wu-ming had been working secretly upon him, learned his story, and promised to have him put safely ashore when they reached China in return for his unquestioning obedience

  Gregory’s previous experience of such matters had taught him that if Foo were guilty, he would be much more likely to give himself away if questioned now than later, when he had had an opportunity to concoct with Wu-ming a series of plausible answers; so he rallied his returning strength for the effort. Beckoning the young man over to him, he said:

  ‘Give me your hand.’

  Under the impression that Gregory wished to be helped to his feet, Foo at once made to obey, but suddenly found his outstretched fingers seized in an unexpected grip by which the backs of his knuckles lay beneath Gregory’s thumb. With a swift motion Gregory jerked Foo’s hand over and forced it down. Giving a squeal of pain he fell to his knees, his head thrown back, his body twisted sideways.

  ‘Now!’ said Gregory hoarsely. ‘I want the truth; or I’ll send you back to the stoke-hold.’

  ‘Please, Sir! You’re not yourself,’ Foo gasped. ‘Oh, you’re hurting!’

  ‘I’ve hardly started yet. I’ll break every bone in your fingers unless you answer me properly. What was in that cocktail you brought me?’

  ‘White wine and orange juice, with a slice of fresh lime.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Nothing else. Oh, let me go! No, nothing; I swear!’

  ‘Where did you mix it?’

  ‘In the pantry off the upper deck lounge.’

  ‘Who else was in the pantry at the time?’

  ‘The second steward and Mr. Kâo Hsüan’s servant, P’ei. He too was mixing a drink for his master.’

  ‘Who was in the lounge?’

  ‘The chief engineer, the purser, two officers who were playing chess, and one of the young cadets.’

  ‘No one else? Think now!’

  ‘No, Sir. No one.’

  ‘Did you walk straight through the lounge with the drink and bring it direct to me, or did you for any reason stop on the way?’

  ‘I stopped once, Sir; but only for a moment.’

  ‘Where, and why?’

  ‘At the top of the upper deck companion-way. I almost ran into Mr. Wu-ming Loo there. He was on his knees looking for a little gold toothpick he had dropped. It was already getting dark and he asked me to help him find it before the light failed.’

  ‘Ah!’ muttered Gregory. ‘And what happened then?’

  ‘I put my tray down on the deck and helped him to search. We found the toothpick almost at once; or rather he did.’

  Gregory released his vice-like grip on Foo’s fingers, let him get up, and said, ‘Thank you. That’s all I wish to know. I don’t think you are in any way to blame for what happened.’

  ‘You … you mean, Sir, that you won’t send me back to the stoke-hold? That I may continue as your servant?’

  ‘Yes,’ Gregory nodded, wearily passing a hand over his eyes. The plan to kill him now appeared simplicity itself. Wu-ming need only have noticed that Foo brought him down a cocktail at the same hour every evening, then lain in wait outside the lounge. A servant could not possibly have refused his request to help him look for his toothpick, and in the failing light, while the man’s back was turned, it would have been child’s-play to slip the poison into the drink unobserved by him or anyone else.

  Having given joyful expression to his relief at regaining his master’s confidence, Foo slipped over to the dressing-table, picked up the cocktail and, sniffing at it, asked, ‘But why should you think this to have been the cause of your attack? It smells as usual and the glass is still nearly full; so you can have taken only a sip.’

  ‘Put that down!’ said Gregory sharply. ‘And leave it there. In no circumstances are you to take it away.’

  At that moment a babble of voices sounded outside, and on Foo’s opening the door, A-lu-te, Kâo, Captain Ah-moi and the ship’s doctor all crowded into the little cabin.

  As they bombarded Gregory with questions and expressions of sympathy, he did some quick thinking. There was no more chance of bringing home to Wu-ming this second attempt at murder than there had been the first; so to accuse him of it could result only in creating an incredibly awkward situation for all concerned. When their clamour had subsided a little, he raised a pale smile, and said:

  ‘I’m afraid I made rather a fool of myself, just now. I’ve had a nasty turn, but it was my own fault. I meant to take a dose of ammoniated quinine to stave off a cold that I felt coming on; but in the half-light I poured the dose from a small bottle of carbolic by mistake. Fortunately I didn’t swallow much of it, but the pain was enough to drive me temporararily crazy. I’m over the worst now, though, so there’s no need to worry about me.’

  His explanation was readily accepted, but they continued to show much concern about him. Ah-moi offered to help his servant get him to bed, Kâo wished to fetch joss-sticks to fumigate the cabin against evil spirits, the doctor—who was of an older generation than Ho-Ping, and still had great faith in the ancient remedies of China—proposed to write out a prescription, burn it and mix the ashes with a soothing broth to be taken every two hours, while A-lu-te begged to be allowed to stay and nurse him through the night.

  Gratefully but firmly he refused all these ministrations, insisting that he had everything he needed in t
he way of medicines, and that the kindest thing they could do was to leave him to recover in darkness and quiet.

  When they had at last been persuaded to return to their interrupted dinner, he washed, drank a pint of hot water, then made himself sick again while Foo cleaned up and aired the cabin. With Foo’s aid he undressed and, after filling the basin with cold water, freshened himself up by sluicing his head in it. Next he told Foo that he was to make no mention whatever of the cocktail to anyone, dismissed him for the night, and locked the door after him. Finally, he took two Carters and a luminol, put his gun and torch handy, got into his bunk and turned out the light.

  His throat and stomach were still very sore, but the drug soon began to take effect. As he drifted off to sleep a grimly humorous thought came to him. Never before had it occurred to him to spare a mosquito, but he wished now that he had not killed the one that had settled on his hand; for by doing so at that critical instant the insect had prevented him from drinking down half the cocktail at one go, as was his usual custom, and thus undoubtedly saved his life.

  He was woken in the morning by a gentle knocking, and, getting out of bed, let Foo in. To the young man’s anxious enquiries he was able to reply truthfully that he had had an excellent night and now felt little the worse for his misadventure. But he added that he meant to stay in bed till lunch time, and that for breakfast he would have only a cup of clear soup or Bovril and some dry biscuits.

  It was while Foo was absent, fetching this light meal, that Gregory noticed that the glass containing the rest of the poisoned cocktail had disappeared. Foo had been in the cabin for no more than two minutes and, in the full light of morning, it would have been impossible for him to have taken it away unobserved; so it must have been removed the previous evening when the cabin was full of people.

  But by whom? Wu-ming had not returned with Gregory’s other visitors, so it could not have been him. It occurred to Gregory then that while the others had crowded round his bed, blocking his view of the doorway and the cabin, Foo had remained deferentially in the background; so without being seen he could have snatched up the glass and slipped outside for long enough to toss it overboard. If he had, it could only mean that, after all, he was Wu-ming’s secret accomplice.

  As Gregory had already made up his mind that to accuse Wu-ming would be futile, the disappearance of the cocktail was of no great importance. Nevertheless it annoyed him, as he had meant to put it in a bottle and seal it up in Foo’s presence, then make him sign a statement that he had witnessed the act; so that in the remote chance of fresh developments it could still be produced as a piece of definite evidence.

  When Foo returned, Gregory said nothing about the cocktail, as he wanted a little more time to think things over. After breakfast he shaved and went along to have a bath. Then, as he was about to get back into bed, Foo raised the matter himself.

  ‘Sir,’ he said. ‘Immediately I began to do the cabin I noticed that the cocktail was no longer on the dressing-table. Have you thrown it away, or put it somewhere? I ask only because you gave me strict orders not to touch it.’

  Taking him by the shoulders, Gregory looked down straight into his eyes and said, ‘No, but I noticed that it had gone while you were getting me my breakfast. If you did not take it away, who did?’

  Foo’s glance never wavered. ‘I have no idea, but I swear to you, Sir, that I did not. You see, I understood the importance of leaving it there. Your explanation to your friends last night about the cause of your illness may have served for them, but not for me. It was drinking some of the cocktail that caused you such agony. The way you questioned me about it before they came in put that beyond doubt. Someone tried to kill you by putting poison in it.’

  Gregory nodded. ‘Yes; that is what happened. And to you there is no point in my pretending otherwise.’

  Tears came into Foo’s eyes and he said earnestly, ‘It is terrible. I have not slept all night for worry. You must know, Sir, that I am devoted to you. How could I be anything else when I owe you so much? From now on I shall do my utmost to protect you. Whenever I bring you a drink in future it will be in a jug with two glasses, so that I can taste it first in your presence; and I intend to sleep on a mat outside your cabin door every night.’

  With a smile, Gregory said, ‘Thank you, Foo. I am quite satisfied now about your fidelity.’

  The excessive caution which had become second nature to him warned him that Foo might be staging a bluff, but his life had depended on his judgment of men too often for him to be easily taken in, and he did not believe the young Chinaman capable of such a superb piece of acting. Taking his hands from Foo’s shoulders, he stripped off his dressing-gown and got into bed.

  ‘One thing seems to me certain, Sir,’ Foo remarked as he folded the dressing-gown. ‘Although we cannot prove it, the only person who could have put the poison in your cocktail is Mr. Wu-ming Loo.’

  Owing to the warmth of the weather the cabin door was hooked back and its entrance had only the curtain drawn across it. Before Gregory had time to reply there came a knock on the door frame. With a swift uneasy glance at the curtain, he called, ‘Come in.’

  It was A-lu-te, accompanied by her maid Su-sen, who had come to inquire after him. As Gregory now spoke Chinese with considerable fluency and no other language was ever used at meals or in general conversation, they rarely spoke English except when alone together; so it was in Chinese that she anxiously addressed him, and that he assured her that he had really recovered sufficiently to get up, but was making his indisposition an excuse for a lazy morning in bed.

  Smiling with relief, she took the chair that Foo set for her; but the moment he had left the cabin, the smile disappeared from her face. Breaking into English, which Su-sen did not understand, she exclaimed in a low tense voice:

  ‘It can’t be true! That man of yours must be crazy!’

  Her words made it clear enough that, as Gregory already feared, she had overheard Foo’s last remark. To gain a moment’s time, he replied blankly, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I could hardly believe my ears, but I distinctly heard him say that Wu-ming put poison in your drink.’

  ‘Perhaps your ears deceived you.’

  ‘Gregory, stop fencing with me! A servant cannot be allowed to make such a terrible accusation and go unchallenged. Either he must show good cause for what he has said or be punished. But perhaps this horrible suspicion has something to do with the way poor Wu-ming says you threatened to brain him with a torch last night. Did you intentionally mislead us when you told us afterwards that you had swallowed carbolic by mistake? What really happened? I insist on your telling me the truth.’

  Her earnestness and excitement decided Gregory that she was liable to make serious trouble aboard unless she was given a good reason for keeping to herself what she had overheard, and he knew that she was much too intelligent to be fobbed off with a few uncoordinated lies, which were all he was capable of inventing on the spur of the moment; so he said:

  ‘I wish I could tell you the truth. The trouble is that I don’t know it myself for certain. All I do know is that two attempts have been made to murder me.’

  ‘Two attempts! But, in heaven’s name, why have you never said anything about this?’

  ‘For the simple reason that, although I have very definite suspicions about the identity of the person who is endeavouring to kill me, I have not one atom of proof. And to make an accusation without being able to prove it could result only in creating a most deplorable atmosphere of hate, distrust, lies and suspicion all round. That is why I have been keeping all this to myself, and must ask you to give me your word that you will do the same if I tell you about it.’

  ‘Very well,’ she said, after only a second’s hesitation. ‘I promise. But why should you suspect the unfortunate Wu-ming?’

  ‘You have said it yourself. Just because he is unfortunate—unfortunate in loving you and finding it impossible to arouse in you the least sign of te
nderness for himself.’

  ‘Oh, Gregory! You are being absurd.’

  ‘I am not. The classic formula for every murder investigation is to look for motive and opportunity. Wu-ming has had ample opportunities, and uncontrollable jealousy is one of the most common of all motives for murder. From the second he saw you that day in San Francisco, after you had dressed in your new clothes and been Americanised in a beauty parlour, he fell as flat for you as if he had been struck by an atom bomb. Within a few days he had changed from a pleasant, talkative, sophisticated young man of the world to a morose, silent goop who had so far forgotten his manners that he could not even keep his eyes from devouring you in public.’

  ‘Of course he is in love with me; that is obvious. But I am not to blame for being unable to return his love.’

  ‘I did not suggest that you were; but, as he sees it, you might if the circumstances were different.’

  ‘You mean if I had not brought you with me from the island?’

  ‘Yes.’ On an impulse Gregory stretched out his hand to take A-lu-te’s, but suddenly remembering Su-sen’s silent presence in the corner, quickly withdrew it, as he went on, ‘I owe you more than I can ever repay. Four months ago you most generously set yourself the task of restoring me to sanity, and you have succeeded in that. But to do so has necessitated your giving me your constant companionship.’

  ‘You have already more than repaid the debt by opening a hundred new horizons to me.’

  He smiled. ‘I’m glad you feel that. We have certainly spent many happy hours together, and learned a lot from one another. But—let’s face it—anyone having only a vague idea about the origin of our friendship might put a very different interpretation on the obvious pleasure we take in each other’s company.’

  ‘Even if I had never met you, it does not at all follow that I should have been in the least attracted to Wu-ming.’

  ‘No, but the fact remains that after your transformation in San Francisco he suddenly realised that, in addition to your natural attractions, you personified a unique blend of the traditional East and sophisticated West; and for a man with his background that meant perfection.’