Wings above the Diamantina b-3

by Arthur W. Upfield

  “Well, it has no bearing. Because it is so, I do not intend to say anything. The fact that you are a detective doesn’t give you the right to pry into everyone’s private affairs.”

  “Permit me to differ,” Bony said, again politely. “In ordinary circumstances I would not attempt to pry into your private affairs, but the circumstances of the present case are far from ordinary. In this sparsely-populated district, a crime has been committed. Within fifty miles are about only a dozen men. It is absolutely essential that each one of those men is proved innocent of complicity. On the night that the crime was committed, you meet a stranger in mysterious circumstances-very mysterious circumstances. You trouble to lie to me about it, and you further trouble to ring up Ned Hamlin and ask him to back your lie that you visited Mitchell’s Well.

  “If your business with the mysterious stranger is perfectly innocent,” continued the detective, “why hesitate, now that you know I know about the interview, to state the facts of it? Of far greater importance than the discovery and apprehension of the person who stole the aeroplane and destroyed it, as well as the person who poisoned the patient’s brandy, is the acquisition of the knowledge of the drug given her and its antidote in order to save her life.”

  “My private affairs have nothing-” Sharp began again.

  “I’m glad to hear that. You will, then, tell me who the man was who arrived at Gurner’s Hotel and occupied a private sitting-room.”

  “I will not tell you. You can go to the devil!” Sharp almost shouted. “If you suspect me of being the criminal-”

  “We can do nothing else but suspect you,”came Elizabeth’s voice from the doorway behind them. “I’m sorry, but I could not avoid overhearing what you were saying. Your voices were raised.”

  Bony was now on his feet, and side by side they faced the white-clad figure standing holding back the spring-hinged door. When she again spoke, her voice was cold.

  “You should apologize to Mr Bonaparte for referringslightingly to his birth, Ted.”

  Beneath the coldness of her voice, Bony thought he detected soft entreaty.

  “If Mr Sharp would only be open with me, my investigation would be materially assisted,” he said slowly. “As for my being a half-caste-well, that is entirely a personal matter. As I pointed out, Mr Sharp’s business at Gurner’s Hotel may have no connexion with my present case, but there is the possibility that it may. I must know where every person in the vicinity of Emu Lake was on that vital night, and what he was doing. Come, Mr Sharp, do not make matters harder for me.”

  “I can assure you that my business that night had no connexion with the aeroplane and the drugged girl.”

  “In that case, be reasonable and give Mr Bonaparte the information he requires. Can’t you see, Ted, that by refusing to speak you are forcing suspicion onyourself. ”

  “I shall say nothing. Oh, can’t you understand, Elizabeth?”

  “I am afraid I cannot, Mr Sharp.”

  The formal address obviously stung. Lightning revealed the effect of the sting to the watchful Bony, and he thought he guessed another Coolibah secret.

  “No, I cannot understand why you refuse to account for your actions that night when, as Bony says, everything-everyone’s energies must be directed to discovering what is necessary to enable the doctors to save that helpless girl’s life. If it is something disgraceful…”

  “Eliz’beth, please!”

  “Miss Nettlefold!”

  “Oh, all right! I… I can’t say what my business was that night. To do so would ruin all my plans, smash my ambitions. It would drag in innocent people. No, I can say nothing.”

  When Elizabeth spoke again her voice was as brittle as thin ice.

  “I must go in to my patient-good night, Bony.”

  The two men stood watching her dimly-white figure beyond the fly-gauze of the veranda door, a dainty figure outlined by the soft light within the patient’s room.

  “Damn you! Why the hell can’t you mind your own affairs?” snarled Ted Sharp. He strode away into the darkness, leaving Bony to sigh:

  “How like the Commissioner!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Guests Depart

  NEXT MORNING the gathering at Coolibah broke up. Dr Stanisforth again conferred with Dr Knowles, suggesting a certain course of treatment which might overcome the patient’s condition. For the first time in years, the Golden Dawn doctor took his morning tea without a liberal addition of whisky and, in consequence, his nerves were visibly tormented.

  The consultation took place in the morning-room and, at its close, the specialist scribbled on his prescription pad. Tearing off the leaf, he presented it to Knowles, saying:

  “We will agree that it is not usual for a medical man to give unasked-for advice. I knew a man-an extraordinary case-who had sufficient mental power abruptly to stop takingmorphia. He died. You will have to take care of yourself. Do not regard me as an interfering old fool, but make up the mixture I have prescribed for you and curtail theother mixture gradually, not suddenly. Now I must be off. I would like to keep in touch with this case, and I would consider it kind of you if you let me know how it goes. If I am able I will come out again in a fortnight’s time.”

  “Good!” said Knowles, with a faint catch in his voice. “I will be following you to Golden Dawn with Sergeant Cox, and I will make up the prescription you have given me.

  “Do. And have a drink now, old man. You must not shock your nervous system too severely. Good-bye-and good luck!”

  While Elizabeth and her father were farewelling the specialist from the east veranda, Knowles was in his room measuring out a stiff dose of “that other mixture,” and Bony was seated in the study in conference with Sergeant Cox.

  “I would be pleased,” he was saying, “if you would sound the Golden Dawn butcher to find out from whom he has purchased sheep and when, and to whom he has sold his skins over the last five weeks. You made notes relative to the nitro-glycerine and the examination of the people at Gurner’s Hotel?”

  “Yes. I will attend to that.”

  “Good! I may be away for several days on a walkabout undertaken with modern transport. Should anything of importance crop up do not call for me. I will communicate with you from time to time. Meanwhile keep your eye on that exchange girl and the night operator, her brother. I cannot lose sight of the fact that the destruction of the aeroplane, following so closely on its discovery by Nettlefold, may be due to some leakage in the telephone system. Either through the exchange operator, or by the line being tapped. Is there a policeman at St Albans?”

  “A mounted man is stationed there.”

  “Perhaps, then, after dealing with Gurner about road traffic, you could run on into St Albans and ascertain if a strange car passed through there one week or two weeks prior to 28 October, when the plane was stolen. I would also like to know if there were any unusual visitors to the place.”

  “Right! I’ll do that.”

  The door was opened to admit Dr Knowles.

  “Hope I am not disturbing you, but I rather want to know the time you are leaving, Cox.”

  “By no means, Doctor. Come in,” invited Bony, on his feet and beaming friendliness. “How is the patient this morning?”

  Knowles crossed the room after closing the door and seated himself. His hands now were less palsied. Beneath his eyes, however, were patches of significant hue.

  “The condition of the patient remains unchanged,” he replied in tones that were almost harsh. Regarding Bony steadily, he added: “Yesterday afternoon you said you thought you knew some method by which we could know what is in the patient’s mind.”

  “That is so,” agreed Bony gravely.

  “Then why thedevil don’t you out with it? If you can read her mind, why don’t you?”

  “I did not state that I could read her mind, Doctor. But I have sent for a man who I think is able to do so.”

  “Ah!” Knowles sighed, as though experiencing relief. “When will
he be here?”

  “That I am unable to say,” Bony replied regretfully. “I will confide in you both when I really should confide in no one. The man for whom I have sent lives north-west of Burketown, on the southern tip of the Gulf of Carpentaria. His name is Illawalli, and he is a tribal chief of great importance and power. He is in possession of inherited secrets which are older than the Pyramids. By merely touching a man he is able to read that man’s mind. I know this because he has demonstrated his power to me. I am glad to observe that neither of you are laughing. More than once he had offered to impart his secrets to me. In possession of them, I might easily become the world’s greatest detective, but he imposes a condition I cannot accept.

  “The date of his arrival will depend on whether he can be quickly located. He may be with his own tribe, or he may be with a distant tribe, not his own but of his nation.”

  “Every effort will be exerted to locate this extraordinary blackfellow?” Knowles pressed.

  “We may depend on that being so.”

  “But could I not locate him and bring him here direct much more quickly?”

  “By this time, Doctor, I feel sure an aeroplane already will have been dispatched for him. Meanwhile I may at any hour put my hands on the man responsible for the patient’s condition. By the way, Mr Nettlefold, at my request, has relieved Sharp from night guard duty.”

  “Is it essential?” Cox asked.

  “I believe it to be very much so. Do you know of any one who could be trusted to do it?”

  Cox pondered. Then:

  “My brother-in-law lives across at Yaraka,” he said slowly. “He was once in the Force, and had to retire when one foot was permanently injured. He is still an active man, however.”

  “Ring him up and find out if he can leave for Coolibah to-day.”

  While the sergeant was busy with the telephone, the detective asked Knowles if he would be remaining long at Golden Dawn.

  “No. I have to obtain certain drugs and stimulants proposed by Dr Stanisforth,” Knowles explained. “It is my intention to fly back this afternoon. If Cox’s brother-in-law is unable to come, I will do guard duty. What leads you to think that another attempt will be made on that girl’s life?”

  “Intuition. Probably you do not believe in intuition, but my wife does, and I am a firm believer, too. The purpose of the attempt to incinerate Miss Double M in Loveacre’s red monoplane was to silence her for ever. While she lives there is the possibility that medical science will cure her of her paralysis, and her silence will then beterminated. ”

  “My brother-in-law will leave Yaraka at once,” Sergeant Cox interposed from the telephone. “I did not tell him what he is wanted for.”

  “That was as well.” Bony rose. “I have to be off. I have borrowed Mr Nettlefold’s spare car.”

  “And we must get on our way, too, Doctor,” the sergeant said, heaving himself to his feet. “Your bag packed?”

  “I am taking nothing but a dispatch bag. I am ready now,” Knowles said like a man who finds inactivity unbearable.

  The sergeant would have liked much to know how Bony intended to follow his planned walkabout, but by now he knew the uselessness of asking questions. He and the doctor having departed, Bony passed to his room to roll a swag, and his host went across to the store to set out rations and cooking utensils. Before leaving the house, the detective interviewed its mistress.

  “I shall be away for a few days, Miss Nettlefold,” he told her with smiling gravity. “You need have no uneasiness on the score of Mr Sharp’s absence, because, later to-day, an ex-policeman will arrive to protect the house at night.”

  “But my father-”

  “Your father has quite enough to do. Now I must be off. Hope with me that the seasonal thunderstorms will not come down from the north-west for at least another week. And do not relinquish hope regarding your patient. I have never yet failed to finalize a case. I see no reason why I should fail to finalize this one. Aurevoir!”

  “Good-bye!” she said slowly, returning his smile.

  Five minutes later she saw him driving away along the track to Golden Dawn.

  “I’d like to know what he’s up to now,” said her father, when he joined her from seeing Bony off. “Knowles is flying back this afternoon. An ex-policeman is coming to take Ted’s place. They appear to think that another attack will be made on the girl’s life.”

  “If it is, I will be ready,” Elizabeth assured him. “I am going on night duty from to-night. Hetty has been unable to sleep properly these hot days.”

  “Humph! Anyway, this affair has made life interesting. I think, though, I would prefer the quietness of ordinary times.”

  “I do not. If only that poor girl was just ordinarily ill I would be enjoying it all.”

  For some hours, at least, John Nettleford experienced the quietness of ordinary times. He laboured in his office for the rest of the morning. About four o’clock, when he was alone at afternoon tea, Dr Knowles rang up to say that he was leaving Golden Dawn immediately in his aeroplane and unhurriedly the cattleman drove out to the natural landing ground to await his arrival.

  Seated in the car, he smoked away the waiting minutes. He heard the engine before he spotted the black-varnished plane high against the colour-stained sky. It came dropping earthwards like a falling leaf, down and down to within a thousand feet, and then it rolled out in a zooming curve, shot skyward in a perfect loop, circled and approached the ’drome at speed. Its wheels tore up the grey ground in dusty clouds, and then it tipped forward; tried to bury itself with screaming protest. When finally it settled, the propeller was smashed and the under-carriage was wiped away.

  Before Nettlefold could reach the wrecked machine, the doctor had climbed out and was awaiting him.

  “Can you tell me, Nettlefold,” he roared angrily, “why I can’t fly when I’m sober?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  At Tintanoo

  THE MOTIONLESS AIR vibrated with thunder which, to human ears, hardly sounded like thunder at all. The incessant vibration seemed to be less reality than a threat aimed at the soft peace of past nights. Here and there, on the arena of the sky, the aerial combatants were waiting for the order to join in battle array and begin the titanic struggle.

  Napoleon Bonaparte was driving the Coolibah runabout car, and because he was alone he sang. Since leaving Coolibah a week before, he had done much driving and much singing, and now while crossing the endless river channels and their banks on his way to visit John Kane, his mood was a light one. Time had given him increased confidence in his ability to untangle the knots of this skein of drama precisely as time had shown to men the best course to follow across the extraordinary Diamantina River.

  Approximately in the centre of the river, he stopped the car on the summit of a broad ribbon of ground dividing two channels, and there he rolled a cigarette. To the north and to the south the intertwining channels twisted beneath the coolibah trees.

  A little to the north ranged the telephone poles connecting St Albans with Golden Dawn. They carried three wires: one terminating at Tintanoo; another ending at Gurner’s Hotel; the third reaching the exchange at St Albans. The poles withstood the onslaughts of many a vast, sliding, brown flood, but often the communications were destroyed by one or two of the poles succumbing to the torrent in alliance with the termites.

  Driving a car across this river was a tiring job. Bony might have found it less fatiguing had the track been straight, but it twisted and turned incessantly, and demanded much braking and much gear-shifting. Presently, every time he was heaved above a channel bank, he could see ever more clearly the red-roofed homestead of Tintanoo sprawled beneath big bloodwoods growing on a spur of stony ground thrusting towards the river between the lower sand-dunes.

  He was still on the switchback when the station dogs raced to meet and escort him up the sharp incline, past well-built stockyards, round the end of commodious men’s quarters, and to the gate giving entry to the short path lea
ding to the main veranda door of the rambling house.

  Here was no litter, no untidiness, no decay. The supply of paint was obviously plentiful. Beyond the men’s quarters two silent windmills were raising water into several large iron tanks set high on sturdy platforms.

  The door in the fly-gauze protecting the veranda was swung outward by a young man who unhurriedly advanced to the fence gate, there to lean against it and to survey Bony. He was tall and well built, and he wore riding togs, which is not usual amongbushmen. Bony noticed that his left eye was made of glass.

  “Looking for any one?” he asked, in the tone often adopted towards people considered to be inferior.

  “Ah-yes,” assented the detective as though he now saw the young man for the first time. “I am looking for Mr John Kane.”

  The young man’s right eye stared, and his head jerked towards the office building. One hand rested on the gate, revealing that the top of the second finger had been removed.

  “You’ll find him over there, I think,” he said, and turned back to the house.

  With a subdued smile playing about the corners of his mouth, Bony strolled to the white-painted, wood-and-iron building. Mounting the three steps, he crossed the veranda to enter a business-like office wherein a man in his shirt sleeves was working at a ledger.

  “Well, what doyou want?” he inquired without looking up.

  “I wish to meet Mr John Kane.”

  ‘What for?”

  “If you will kindly tell him that Detective-Inspector Bonaparte would-”

  Brown eyes raised their gaze to survey the caller. Large teeth were revealed by a quick smile. The man rose with alacrity, and the left corner of his mouth twitched twice. When he advanced his right hand was outstretched.

  “I am John Kane,” he announced affably. “I am happy to meet you.”

  “Thank you! I have called hoping you may be able to assist me.”

  “Certainly. Come over here and take a pew,” Kane urged, adding to the warmth of his welcome by whisking a chair to face his own beside the desk. “I heard that you had come west to go into the matter of Loveacre’s aeroplane. Extraordinary affair, eh? Is that girl found in it by Nettlefold anybetter. ”