Colour Scheme (23 page)

“Quite so. You must have seen him, I suppose, after you left the hall.”

Gaunt took out his cigarette case and offered it to Webley, who said he didn’t smoke. Dikon saw a tremor in Gaunt’s hand and lit his cigarette for him. Gaunt made rather a business of this and as they were at it, said something not so much in a whisper as with an almost soundless articulation of his tongue and teeth. Dikon thought it was: “I’ve got to get out of it.”

“I was saying—” said Webley heavily, and repeated his question.

Gaunt said that as far as he could remember he had caught a glimpse of Questing outside the hall. He wasn’t positive. Webley kept him to this point and he grew restive. At last he broke off and drew his chair closer to Webley.

“Look here,” he said. “I’ve honestly told you all I know about this poor fellow. I want you to understand something. I’m an actor and an immensely well-known one. Things that happen to me are news, quite big news, at Home and in the States. Bell, as my secretary, will tell you how tremendously careful I have to be. The sort of things that are said about me in print matter enormously. It may sound far-fetched, but I assure you it is not, when I tell you that a few sentences in the hot-news columns, linking my name up with this accident, would be exactly the wrong kind of publicity. We don’t know much about this unfortunate man but I’ve heard rumours that he wasn’t an altogether savoury character. That may come out, mayn’t it? We’ll get hints about it. ‘Mystery man dies horribly after hearing Geoffrey Gaunt recite at one-eyed burg in New Zealand.’ That’s how the hot-columnists will treat it.”

“We don’t get much of that sort of thing in this country, Mr. Gaunt.”

“Good Lord, man, I’m not talking about this country. As far as I’m concerned this country doesn’t exist. I’m talking of New York.”

“Oh,” said Mr. Webley impassively.

“See here,” said Gaunt, “I know you’ve got your job to do. If there’s anything more you want to ask, why ask it. Ask it now. But for God’s sake don’t keep me hanging on here. I can’t invite you to come out and have a drink with me but —”

Dikon, appalled, saw Gaunt’s hand go to the inside pocket of his coat. He got behind Webley and shook his head violently, but Gaunt’s note-case was now in his hand and Webley on his feet.

“Now Mr. Gaunt,” Webley said with no change whatever in his uninflected and thick voice, “you should know better than to think of that. If you’re as careful of your reputation as you’ve been telling me, you ought to realize that anything of this nature looks very bad indeed if it gets known. Put that case away, sir. We’ll let you go as soon as possible but until this black business is cleared up nobody’s leaving Wai-ata-tapu. Nobody.”

Gaunt drew back his head with a certain characteristic movement which Dikon always associated with an adder.

“I think you’re making a mistake, Sergeant,” he said with elaborate indifference. “However, we’ll leave it as it is for the moment. I’ll telephone to Sir Stephen Johnston and ask him to advise me what steps to take. He’s a personal friend of mine. Isn’t he your Chief Justice or something?”

“That’ll be quite in order, Mr. Gaunt,” said Webley tranquilly. “His Honour may make some special arrangement. In the meantime I’ll ask you to stay here.”

“
Great God Almighty
!” Gaunt screamed out. “If you say that again I’ll lose all control of my temper. How dare you take this attitude with me! The man has been killed by a loathsome accident. You behave, my God, as if he’d been murdered.”

“But,” said a voice in the doorway, “isn’t it almost certain that he has?”

It was Mr. Septimus Falls, standing diffidently on the threshold.
v

“
Do
forgive me,” said Mr. Falls in his rather spinster-like fashion. “I
did
tap on the door, I promise you, but you didn’t notice. I came to tell Sergeant Webley that he is wanted on the telephone.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Webley, and went out.

“May I come in?” asked Falls, and came in. “As that large efficient man has tramped away, it seems a propitious moment to review our position.”

“Why did you say —
that
— about Questing?” said Gaunt. “Why, in heaven’s name?”

“That he has been murdered? Because of several observations I have made. Let me enumerate them.
A
, the attitude of the police seems to me to be more consistent with a homicide investigation than with an inquiry into an accident.
B
, the circumstances surrounding the affair appear to be suspicious; as, for instance, the bite out of the path. Have you ever tried to dislodge a piece of that solidified mud? My dear sir, you couldn’t do it unless you positively danced on the spot.
C
, I observed by the light of my torch that the displaced clod had fallen to the foot of the bank. It held the impression of a nailed boot or shoe. Questing was the only man in evening dress, at the concert.
D
(and, dear me, how departmental I sound), the clod had contained a white flag which lay beside it, the only white flag on that side of the mound. As far as I could see the grooves on the edge of the gap and down the sides of the clod must have been the hole made by the flag standard. I am certain Webley and his satellites have discovered these not inconsiderable phenomena. Which would account for their somewhat implacable attitude towards ourselves, don’t you feel? I too have been forbidden to leave Wai-ata-tapu. A tiresome restriction.”

“I fail utterly,” said Gaunt breathlessly, “to see why these ludicrous details should suggest that there has been foul play.”

“Do you? And yet when Hamlet felt the point unbated did he not smell villainy?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean. I still think it monstrous that I, who after all am a guest in this country, should be subjected to this imbecile entanglement in red tape. If the position continues,” said Gaunt, speaking very rapidly and looking down his nose at Mr. Falls, “I shall appeal directly to the Governor-General whom I have the honour to know personally.”

“This is frightful,” thought Dikon. “First a Chief Justice and now a Governor-General. We shall be cabling to the Royal Family if Webley remains unshaken.”

At this point Dr. Ackrington appeared in the doorway.

“May I come in?” he asked.

Gaunt waved his hand.

“I don’t know whether you realize it,” said Dr. Ackrington, taking them all in with a comprehensive glare, “but we are under suspicion of homicide, every man jack of us.” He gave an angrily triumphant laugh.

“I refuse to believe it!” Gaunt shouted. “I refuse to be entangled. It was an accident. He was drunk and he stumbled. Nobody is to blame, I least of all. I refuse to be implicated.”

“You can refuse till you’re black in the face, my good sir,” said Dr. Ackrington. “Much good will it do you. You liked him no better than the rest of us, a fact that even this purple monument to inefficiency must stumble across sooner or later.”

“Do you mean Sergeant Webley?” asked Falls.

“I do. I’m sorry to say I regard the man as a moron.”

“That, if you will forgive me, Dr. Ackrington, is a mistake. I feel sure that we should be extremely ill-advised to dismiss Webley as a person of no intelligence. And in any case, if, as I am persuaded, Questing has been deliberately sent to an unspeakable death, do we not wish his murderer to be discovered?”

With a faint smile Mr. Falls looked from one face to another. After an uncomfortable interval, Gaunt, Dr. Ackrington, and Dikon all spoke together. “Yes, of course,” they said impatiently. “Of course,” Dr. Ackrington added. “But I must tell you at the outset, Falls, that if you concur with the official view of this case, I utterly disagree with you. However I merely wish to warn you of the possible, the almost inevitable blunders that will be perpetrated by this person. If he is to be in charge of this case I consider that none of us is safe.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” asked Gaunt offensively.

“I intend to call a meeting.”

“Good God, how perfectly footling!”

“And why, may I ask? Why?”

“Does somebody propose somebody else as a murderer? Or what?”

“You are facetious, sir,” said Dr. Ackrington furiously. “I confess that I did not expect to find you so confident of your own immunity.”

“I should like to know precisely what you mean by that, Ackrington.”

“Come,” said Falls. “Nothing is gained by losing our tempers.”

“Nor by the merciless introduction of
clichés
,” Gaunt retorted, darting his head at him.

“Are you in there, James?” asked Colonel Claire. His face, slightly distorted, was pressed against the window-pane.

“I’m coming.” Dr. Ackrington surveyed his audience of three. “It is my duty,” he said grandly, “to inform you that Webley has apparently been recalled to Harpoon. His men have returned to the reserve. At the moment we are not under direct supervision and I suggest that we lose no time in discussing our position. We are meeting in the dining-room in ten minutes. After this conversation I cannot, I imagine, expect to see you there.”

“On the contrary,” said Falls, “I shall certainly attend.”

“And I,” said Dikon.

“Obviously,” said Gaunt, “I had better be there, if only to protect myself.”

“I am delighted that you recognize the necessity,” said Dr. Ackrington. “Coming, Edward.” He joined his brother-in-law on the verandah.

Mr. Falls did not follow him. To Dikon’s embarrassment he stayed and listened with the air of a connoisseur to Gaunt’s renewed display of temper. Gaunt had never been averse to an audience at these moments but on this occasion he seemed to be unaware of anyone but Dikon, who received the full blast of his displeasure. He was told that he had bungled the whole affair, that he should never have allowed Webley an interview, that he was totally indifferent to Gaunt’s agony of mind. Never before had Dikon found his employer so unreasonably abusive. His own feeling of apprehension mounted with each intemperate phrase. He was ashamed of Gaunt.

This uncomfortable display was brought to an end by a sudden and unnerving clangour outside the window. Huia was performing with vigour upon the dinner bell. Gaunt, abominably startled, uttered a loud oath.

“Is that lunch?” exclaimed Dikon, who had himself been shaken. “Now I come to think of it,” he added, “I forgot to have breakfast.”

“I fancy it is a summons to the conference,” said Falls placidly. “Shall we go in?”
vi

Three of the small dining-tables had been shoved together and at the head of them sat Dr. Ackrington with the Colonel, looking miserable, on his right hand. Simon and Smith sat together at the far end. Simon looked mulish and Smith foggily disgusted. Dr. Ackrington pointed portentously to the chairs on his left. Dikon and Falls sat together; Gaunt, like a sulky schoolboy, took the chair farthest removed from everyone else. The Colonel, evidently feeling that the silence was oppressive, suddenly ejaculated: “Rum go, what?” and seemed alarmed at the sound of his own voice.

“Very rum,” agreed Mr. Falls sedately.

Mrs. Claire and Barbara came in. They wore their best dresses, together with hats and gloves, and they carried prayer-books. They contrived to disseminate an atmosphere of English Sunday morning. There was a great scraping of chairs as the men got up. Smith and Simon seemed to grudge this small courtesy, and looked foolish.

“I’m so sorry if we are late, dear,” said Mrs. Claire. “Everything was a little disorganized this morning.” She began to peel the worn gloves from her plump little hands and looked about her with an air of brisk expectancy. Dikon remembered with a start that she conducted a Sunday school in the native village. “We had to come and go by the long way,” she explained.

Barbara went off with the prayer-books and returned, without her hat, looking scared.

“Well, sit down, Agnes, sit down,” Dr. Ackrington commanded. “Now that you
have
come. Though why the devil you elected to traipse off… However! I imagine that you had no pupils.”

“Not a
very
good attendance,” said Mrs. Claire gently, “and I’m afraid they
were
rather inattentive, poor dears.”

Dikon was amazed to see that she was quite unruffled. She sat beside her husband and looked brightly at her brother. “Well, dear?” she asked.

Dr. Ackrington grasped the edge of the table with both hands and leant back in his chair.

“It seems to me,” he began, “it is essential that we, as a group of people in extraordinary circumstances, should understand one another. I, and I have no doubt all of you, have been subjected to a cross-examination from a person who, I am persuaded, is grossly unfit for his work. I am afraid my opinion of the local police force has never been a high one and Sergeant Webley has said and done nothing to alter it. I may state that I have formed my own view of this case. A brief inspection of the scene of the alleged tragedy would possibly confirm this view but Sergeant Webley, in his wisdom, sees fit to deny me access to the place. Ha!”

He paused, and Mrs. Claire, evidently feeling that he expected an answer, said: “Fancy, dear! What a pity, yes.”

Dr. Ackrington looked pityingly at his sister. “I said ‘the
alleged
tragedy,’ ” he pronounced. “The
alleged
tragedy.” He glared at them.

“We heard you, James,” said Colonel Claire mildly, “the first time.”

“Then why don’t you say something?”

“Perhaps, dear,” said his sister, “it’s because you speak so loudly and look so cross. I mean,” she went on with an apologetic cough, “one thinks to oneself: ‘How cross he is and how loudly he speaks,’ and then, you know, one forgets to listen. It’s confusing.”

“I was not aware,” Dr. Ackrington shouted, and checked himself. “Very well, Agnes,” he said, dropping his voice to an ominous monotone. “You desire a continuation of the mealy-mouthed procedure of your Sunday school. You shall have it. With a charge of homicide hanging over all our heads, I shall smirk and whisper my way through this meeting and perhaps you will manage to listen to me.”

“ ‘
I will roar you
,’ ” thought Dikon, “ 
‘as ’twere any nightingale
.’ ”