Death in the Andamans (18 page)

She sighed a small unhappy sigh. After all, what — apart from the fact that she was in love with him — did she know about Nick Tarrent? Less than nothing! And anyway, he and John Shilto were not the only other men in the house: there still remained Sir Lionel and Dan Harcourt. Sir Lionel naturally did not count. But how about Dan? Ruby had certainly been very charming to Dan on the previous day, and he had not shown himself unwilling to be charmed. What was it that Nick had just said about him? Something about his having got up early and gone for a walk? It seemed an odd thing to do on such a morning, for although the rain had stopped, the fog had thickened until it pressed about the house and the island like a muffling pall of grey cotton-wool.

Copper helped herself to more toast as a red-uniformed
chaprassi
advanced noiselessly to Valerie's side and spoke in an undertone.

‘
What's
that?' Valerie's voice was sharp.

The man shrugged his shoulders, and sketched a gesture with his brown hands.

‘But it's absurd!' Valerie turned to her stepfather: ‘He says that they've looked everywhere, but they can't find Dan Harcourt. The orderlies say no one has left the house this morning, and the servants say he isn't anywhere inside it. Dad, hadn't we better send someone out to look for him? He must have gone out by one of the servants' staircases without being seen, and got lost in this mist.'

Nick pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. ‘In that case, we'd better go and round him up at once. With a fog like this he might well walk off the edge of a breakwater. Anyone coming with me?'

‘I'll come,' said Valerie.

‘Nonsense!' snapped Sir Lionel irritably. ‘I imagine that young man is perfectly capable of looking after himself, and I object to any of you careering round the island in this fog. I expect he went off to the Mess and is having his breakfast down there.'

Valerie stared at her stepfather in some surprise. It was unlike him to be irritable with her, and she noticed suddenly that he was looking old and rather ill, and suffered a pang of conscience; realizing that she had been too wrapped up in Charles of late to pay much attention to his well-being. ‘What's the matter, Dad?' she inquired. ‘You're looking a bit off colour this morning.'

‘There is nothing whatever the matter with me,' said Sir Lionel coldly. ‘I merely stated — I will repeat it if you wish — that I would rather you did not go wandering round the island in this weather.' He gathered up the typewritten news-sheets, and disregarding Valerie's hurt and astonished face, left the dining-room.

‘He's quite right,' consoled Copper swiftly. ‘There's no sense in all of us breaking our necks hunting up Dan. I'll bet he's with Charles. Let's ring up the Mess.'

They excused themselves and left the table, but Copper, looking back from the edge of the ballroom, surprised a curious look upon Mr Shilto's unalluring countenance. He had turned in his chair and was looking towards the windows, and for a moment she thought that he was laughing. It was gone in a moment, but the impression remained that the fat, bulky shoulders in the ill-fitting linen coat had been jerking and quivering with suppressed mirth.

Nick, who had gone to his room for a coat, returned across the ballroom, frowning blackly.

‘Look here,' said Nick abruptly, ‘I've just found something damned odd: I don't know why I didn't notice it before, but Dan's own clothes are in the bedroom, so he must still be wearing that borrowed dinner-jacket. And his bed has been slept on but not in. I'm going down to make inquiries.'

He turned on his heel, and taking the staircase three steps at a time, flung out of the front door and vanished into the mist. To return five minutes later, with the scowl still on his face
____

‘I can't understand what Dan's up to. I've been talking to the sentry and the police orderlies, and they still stick to it that no one left the house this morning. Not that that means much! In this fog I expect he could easily slide out by one of the back staircases without being spotted. But what does sound a bit odd is that one of the sentries swears that he left the house about twelve o'clock last night — said he couldn't sleep or something and was going to take a stroll around — and didn't come back until about an hour and a half later …

‘That old fool in the hall was sound asleep of course and never heard him either time, but the sentry says he remembers that Dan shut the door behind him “very quiet like” when he came back, so I don't suppose he wanted to advertise his return. Anyway, one thing they all swear to is that he didn't go out a second time, and that bearer of yours — blast him — says he didn't notice whether the Sahib was in his bed or not when he brought the morning tea, because the mosquito nets were down. I'm told that a police guard sleeps at the foot of every outside staircase all night, so Dan couldn't very well have gone out again until daylight without falling over someone. What the
blazes
do you suppose he's up to?'

‘Val's just phoning Charles to find if he's down at the Mess,' said Copper: ‘the Ross wire has been fixed, thank heaven.'

As she spoke, Valerie came out of the verandah where she had been telephoning, looking both worried and annoyed: ‘No,' she said shortly in reply to Nick's query, ‘he's not there.
Or
up at the hospital — or down at the Club either. Of course there's still the barracks and Ronnie Purvis. I couldn't get hold of Ronnie. His man said he was out, and didn't appear to know if anyone else had been to the house or not. Oh dear! as if there wasn't enough fuss and unpleasantness without Dan playing the fool!'

‘Dan's no fool,' said Nick curtly, ‘and if he isn't here it's because he's got a very good reason for being elsewhere! Either that or the silly ass has fallen over something in this bloody fog. Well, there's only one thing to do and that's round up a search-party: I'm off to co-opt Charles and Hamish and anyone else I can get hold of.'

He swung round and bumped into the Chief Commissioner who had been making for the staircase followed by Leonard Stock and Mr Shilto. ‘
Blast
— I beg your pardon, sir. I
____
' He stopped suddenly, checked by the sight of their formal attire.

‘Valerie, my dear,' said Sir Lionel, ‘we are just off to attend poor Ferrers's funeral. I thought that we should excuse you from coming as it is such a wretched day.'

‘Oh,' said Valerie blankly, ‘I'd forgotten. No, I don't think Copper and I will go, if you don't mind, Mr Shilto?'

‘I? But of course not, Miss Valerie. I know that your sympathy will be with us, and that is as valuable a tribute as your presence.' John Shilto grinned maliciously and passed on down the staircase in the wake of Sir Lionel. But they did not reach the hall.

There was a sudden commotion outside the front door, and a dishevelled, unrecognizable figure thrust past the guard and flung itself up the stairs to stop, panting for breath and clinging to the banisters, before the Chief Commissioner.

It was young Dr Dutt, who had apparently run up the steep path to the house, for his gasping words were unintelligible and he appeared to be labouring under the stress of some violent emotion.

The Chief Commissioner, becoming indignantly aware of the curious faces of the orderlies and servants in the hall below, grasped the young man firmly by the arm and propelled him forcibly up the stairs and into the drawing-room. ‘Now,' said Sir Lionel, thrusting him into the nearest armchair, ‘take your time, and try to get your breath. Stock, will you please fetch a glass of water?'

Leonard vanished obediently, and the young doctor, acting upon the Chief Commissioner's advice, abandoned his attempts at speech, and concentrated upon regaining his breath.

There was something startling about his appearance as well as his sudden arrival. The slim, dapper, self-satisfied figure of the previous night had disappeared, and in its place sat a frantic-eyed youth with disordered hair and clothing. His shoes and trousers were splashed with the mud of the wet roads, and looking at him Copper experienced a premonition of disaster so violent that for a moment it turned her giddy and sick.

It must have shown in her face, for Nick's hand shot out and caught her wrist. He held it for perhaps the space of four seconds, and then dropped it with a little encouraging shake; and perhaps it was that more than anything within herself that held her steady during the moments that followed. For Dr Dutt had recovered his breath.

He gulped down a few mouthfuls of water and stood up, holding tightly to the back of his chair, and though his voice was still breathless and jerky and his English had become more dislocated than ever, his story, which he insisted in relating in strict sequence, was only too clear …

He had, he told them, been able to raise a makeshift coffin for the corpse of Ferrers Shilto, and with four men to carry it had repaired to the Guest House some twenty minutes ago for the purpose of coffining the body. But when they removed it from the trestle table on which it rested, they had discovered to their annoyance that owing to the bulkiness of the tarpaulin which had been sewn about it, the coffin lid could not be made to close. There had been nothing for it but to remove the tarpaulin, and after sending out for a knife to rip out the twine with which it was stitched, they presently uncovered the body …

Dr Dutt paused to swallow convulsively and renew his grip upon the chair back, his starting eyes once more visualizing the full horror of that moment.

‘Well, go on,' snapped Sir Lionel tartly. ‘What was the trouble? Don't tell me he wasn't dead after all!'

Dr Dutt licked his dry lips and his eyes turned slowly to Sir Lionel's, and from there to each face in that silent circle.

‘I am warn before I open,' he said, his voice barely more than a harsh whisper: ‘My hand — it is wet. And when I look upon it, it is blood. But do I warn? No! I think I am cutting myself on knife. Then the cover is remove, and – and there is not Mr Shilto, but the gentleman who speak to me last night and say, “I also am doctor.” And – and he is dead!'

‘God!'
said Nick in a queer whisper.
‘Dan
____
!'

He swung round and ran from the room, and they heard his feet on the stairs, and then the crash of the front door as it slammed shut behind him.

13

‘Dan!' said Valerie in a small, choking voice. ‘Oh, it isn't true! I don't believe it. It can't
possibly
be true.'

Dr Dutt turned to her almost gratefully: ‘That is what I speak to myself. I say: “It is not true. Here is much witchcraft!” But the other fellows they are seeing too. They are very poor, ignorant men, but they say: “Here is not Shilto Sahib, but the young Sahib from the large ship. It is evil magic!” and they are fearful and they run away. Then I myself run here with great speed to tell of this terrible calamity.'

Sir Lionel, who had not moved or spoken, let his breath out in a long sigh and said in a curiously halting voice: ‘You are certain of this? That it is Surgeon-Lieutenant Harcourt?'

‘How can I mistake? Twice I have seen him!'

‘And – and you are sure that he is — dead?'

‘Most certainly. He is dead as door-nail. There is no doubt.'

‘But
how?
' inquired Leonard Stock shrilly, his stunned face a curious greenish white. He took a stumbling step forward and clutched at the young assistant's arm, shaking it violently: ‘It's absurd, man! You must be mistaken! A man can't die and then go off and sew himself up in sacking afterwards. It doesn't make
sense!
'

‘Don't be absurd, Stock!' snapped Sir Lionel. ‘Is it likely he'd sew himself up? Pull yourself together!'

‘Then – then you think it is —
murder?
' gasped Mr Stock in a half-whisper, his eyes flaring with a sudden stark terror.

‘
Murder?
What the devil are you talking about? Why should it be murder? I imagine that the young fool went down to take a look at the body last night and probably stumbled or met with some accident in the dark, and broke his neck. You know what our local people are like. Always terrified to report any accident for fear that they will be held responsible for it. It's more than likely that a native guard or that fool of a
chowkidar
found him, and realizing that he was dead, got into a panic and hit on the idea of sewing him into Ferrers's piece of canvas in the hope that he'd be buried without anyone being the wiser.'

John Shilto gave vent to a sudden bark of laughter: a shocking and unexpected sound. ‘It's a good theory,' he said, ‘but it won't wash. Why hide one body at the expense of landing yourself with the other?'

‘I'm afraid I don't follow you,' said Sir Lionel stiffly.

Dr Dutt said: ‘But Mr Shilto he is right, yess! Two bodies are not present. There is only Mister Harcourt.'

‘What's that?'
Sir Lionel swung round to face John Shilto. ‘You say that Ferrers's body has been removed?'

‘Oh, no I didn't,' contradicted Mr Shilto blandly. ‘I merely arrived at the obvious, and apparently correct conclusion, that it has been removed. Harcourt was a slim man, but in spite of that he was a good deal larger than my late-lamented cousin, and although the thickness of a tarpaulin shroud might have accounted for the rather larger appearance of the corpse, it could never for a moment have been expected to disguise two corpses as one. And if, as I imagine, the substitution of the bodies was intended to conceal the fact of Harcourt's death, it stands to reason that the previous occupant of the tarpaulin must first have been removed.'

‘Do you mean to tell me,' demanded Leonard Stock, his voice shrill and quivering with shock, ‘that except for the accident of the coffin lid being unable to close, young Harcourt would have been buried as your cousin and nobody would ever have known?'