NO WOMAN'S LAND

Wairarapa Times-Age, 8 July 1938, Page 10

NO WOMAN'S LAND

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

COPYRIGHT

BY

JANE ENGLAND

(Author of “Sjambok,” “Trader’s License,” &c.)

CHAPTER XL—Continued. Archie stopped dead in the doorway, staring like any ill-mannered oaf at an unfamiliar, and yet desperately wellknown figure. Nella! Nella, with her hair soft and shining, and caught close to her head; with her skin white and bleaming against the deep blackness of her frock. Nella, with the long lines of her figure outlined by the black stuff which she wore. This was a new Nella, new and desirable, and infinitely far away.”“No Wentworth?” asked Dolly. “No Wentworth,” said David. “But Jacob says that he’s on his way her,” said Dolly. “Oh,” said David, suppressing a yawn. “Well, Jacob had better produce, a bath.”. . “For two,” said Dolly.

“Baths for two then,” said David. “By the way, Fellowes, do you mind if your horse is crowded- into a stable with a couple of mules?” “Not .in the least,” said Fellowes. “Good,” said David. “Well, look here, let’s have a drink first, and then we’ll go down and see to it. You’d better wait and see Wentworth, I still think. All right by you?” “Yes,” said Fellowes, “it’s all right by me.” “Curse the fellow, Fellowes!” thought David, “why can’t he show more enthusiasm. Have I been wasting my valuable breath on him all this time to no purpose?” “Ooph!” laid Dolly, as they went off the verandah after they had had their drinks, “Jacob’s got to get baths, and I’ve got to change, come and talk to me while I do so, will you?” Nella felt strangely exhilarated, and

for the first time she spoke cheerfully. “Yes, I will,” she said. CHAPTER XII. Wentworth jogged over towards Bloots. Brown, too, jogged along, by his side. And they both felt very tired and hot and thirsty. They were alone together on the veld, and able to talk to each other naturally, without regard to rank. “Will they have any nice cool beer?” said Brown plaintively. Then he became serious and turned to the matter in hand. “Well, anywye,” he went on, “the doctor said that there was no bullet hole, and the natives sye that the.piccanin is a little devil —a little liar, he is, by all accounts. So I reckon that the old bloke went and got fuddled, and set himself alight.”

“That,” said Wentworth in an absentminded way, “is our story and we stick to it. But it won’t wash the mud off Fellowes, and—by the way—did you find out of there had been any sign of a strange white man round this district?” “Prospector making for the south; fellow by name of Old Jack. One black thinks he saw a white man he didn’t know riding west the night of the murder.” “Tragedy,” corrected Wentworth; “May I point out to you that you are not investigating a murder, but the sad and, accidental death of a white man? By the way, did you set those Black Watch boys to clear away the debris?” “I did,” said Brown grumpily. “This whole affair,” pursued Wentworth mournfully, “is mixed up with women. Nothing but women. I detest women on the veld; you must know by now, Brown, that I regard women on the veld as out of place.” “I—yes, you’ve said so once or twice,” Brown replied. “There’s Bloots ahead. Solitary and desolate. Can’t imagine why the Hastings stay there. If they’re only waiting to get money to start that mine, they’d be more comfortable in Klinter’s Dorp.” “Nobody’ll put money in that mine,” grunted Brown. “Got a hoodoo on it, that mine has. Blasted heath and all that sort of thing. But I’m with you — can’t see meself why they park in the homestead.” They were turning up now to the Bloot homestead. “Look here,” said Brown, turning in his saddle, “tell me straight. Is this a murder, or isn’t it? I mean, the Doc said No Bullet.” “Never heard of a fist?” asked Wentworth dolefully. “Of course, with your over-refined mind, you’d never think of a man slugging another on the jaw. If you must know, I think it may well

have been murder but not by Archie Fellowes. It’s not his cup of tea at all. It dates back a long way, if it is murder. Now try and behave yourself. We’re both calling.” “I think,” said David conversationally, “that the dread minions of the Law approach.” He glanced round the room. Dolly was sitting in a high chair, with the heels of her slippers anchored to a rung, and her hands stretched out over the brazier. Nella, silent and shy, sat in a canvas chair: and Fellowes sat back from the circle of light cast by the lamp. They had all been rather silent. Dolly had talked a little to David, but the other two had been unhelpful. “Well,” he continued as he got up lazily, “another drink to restore us all and strengthen the weak knees. Buttle, will you, Fellowes, while I go out and welcome the Law?” Wentworth fame in, followed by David; Brown having gone to water the horses. “I’ve got. a couple of Black Watch boys following up,” Wentworth was saying, “and as soon as they arrive they'll look after the horses, and make camp for us.” Dolly languidly unjammed her heels from the rung of the chair and stood up. “How do you do?” she said politely. Wentworth, bald and sallow in the dimmish light, glanced at her thoughtfully. [ “How do you do?” he said gloomily.

“Have a drink?” said David, “or are you on duty, and unable to drink with suspects?” Archie flushed. “Oh . . by the way, Public Enemy Number One. . Archie Fellowes,” said David. “Hullo,’’ said Wentworth. “By the way, would you mind telling me, Fellowes, as a mere matter of interest,

whether you saw anybody, black or white, any where near the homestead?" “ . . er, Miss Howard,” interrupted David, and he waved towards Nella, who remained glued to her seat. “How do you do?” said Wentworth. .He gazed sadly round the room, and fell silent, “I saw nobody at all,” said Archie after a minute when all but Wentworth had forgotten what he was answering. “I had just the faintest impression that someone . . a native, I thought, made off along the Kaffir track. But ... I couldn’t swear to it.” “Can’t ever swear to seeing a native at night,” said Wentworth, “sons of Eblis!” Anyway, you’d be occupied with the fire.” “What do you mean?” asked Archie hotly. “I mean,” said Wentworth casually, “that if you saw the fire, your attention would be fixed on that. Therefore, if you did think you saw something or someone it was probably a white man. A native wouldn’t, couldn’t have at-

tracted your attention; a white man hasn’t got the same gift of melting into the landscape. If it will make things clearer, I’ll say .■ . and be thoroughly unethical . . that I don’t believe for one moment that you had anything to do with it at all. I oughtn’t to say it, but it’ll save a lot of trouble if I do. Now I’ll have a drink, please. Hullo!” Nella had got out of her chair, and had gone swiftly into her bedroom. “She thinks he did it,” explained David blandly. Dolly stood up. “My husband,” she said pleasantly “has a peculiar idea that saying obvious, but uncomfortable, things always

clears the air. I’m sorry, Archie ... I mean Mr Fellowes . . . but in some ways it does, doesn’t it?” “I suppose so,” muttered Archie. He swallowed his drink, and Dolly pushed the decanter over to him. “Have one?” she suggested amiably. “Oh, does she?” said Wentworth, (wrapped, it seemed in Cimmerian gloom). “I say, I think my Trooper is

outside. That scratching noise is his idea of tactfully calling attention to himself. Do you mind if he comes in?” Brown came into the room. He stood gazing at them truculently, holding his felt hat in front of him. “Trooper Brown,” said Wentworth. Dolly giggled. “Trooper Brown,” she said “will you have whisky or gin?” Brown swivelled an eye in the direction of Sergeant Wentworth. “It’s all right, Trooper.” “Thank you,” said Brown. “Thank you very much, Mrs Hastings. Whisky, if you don’t mind.” Dolly had gone into the bedroom to see Nella. She found her, as before, sitting on the edge of her bed, staring fixedly in front of her. “What do you think you’re doing?” asked Dolly. “Thinking,” said Nella.

Her voice had lost that edged caution, that thrust of antagonism. She sounded young again and happy. “Well, come on out. I don’t know when anybody will get any food tonight. I’m going out to see Jacob. But you’d better come out.” “I’ll come out,” said Nella blissfully, “it was just that I was so frightfully—so frightfully, well, I mean it was what he said about Archie.” “He only said what anyone with any sense would have known,” said Dolly curtly. “Anyway, come on out, and I’ll go and cope with the commissariat.” “I’ll help,” said Nella. “Oh no. I’m bad enough at this sort

of thing, and I don’t want an audience. You go and join in that conference. It’s interesting.” She pushed Nella back into the room, and David pulled a cliair forward for her. Archie, she saw, was sitting next to Wentworth, and he looked cheerful and amused. Brown was sitting in a very stiff, military attitude in one of the wooden chairs. As usual, David lounged. Neither Wentworth nor Archie seemed to notice her. “In a few minutes,” said David, “my graceless wife will produce, among other things, coffee. Coffee and condensed milk.” “Haveii’t you got any cows?” exclaimed Nella. For the moment she felt happy. It was quite plain to her now that Archie had had nothing to do with her father’s death. Now that that was cleared up, her mind ran simply. She and Archie could be happy again. “No cows,” said David, “only a mine.” “But there are six cows over at the farm,” said Nella quickly, “if we could get them over, and besides, they ought to be milked. Oh, I don’t suppose

they’ve been milked at all.” “Yes, they’ve been milked, miss,” broke in Brown. “I made one of the Black Watch boys milk ’em.” “Oh, thank you,” said Nella. She smiled at him happily. The air was thick with cigarette smoke. It lay in low curls in the room. The brazier was a red, watchful eye, staring at them. “And so,” said Wentworth in a low voice to Archie, “I’d be obliged if you’d tell me about things. Sorry if it embarrasses you, but you did go over a good bit, didn’t you? Who would know about that?” “No one, except the piccanin.” ,He flushed slightly. “You see, I made a point of going over when I thought they’d be alone. I knew exactly what the District would say. I wasn’t ashamed, you understand, but they

kid Nella. The old man had a tearing have said some foul things about this row with me. I couldn’t get a word in, couldn’t even begin to explain to him that I wanted to marry her. He was drunk.” ‘Still want to marry her?” asked Wentworth baldly. Fellowes flushed again. “That’s my business,” he said. “Undoubtedly,” said Wentworth. “Well, don’t worry. It may be nothing. He may have incinerated himself. I’ve got to go on, of course, to make sure. My job. Heard the old Howard scandal, by the way?” "No. What was it?” “Murder and suicide. Twenty-year-old affair. There .have been other scandals since. Hard luck on that girl.” He sodded towards Nella. “Oh well, I spend my life trying to deal with nice

quiet things where no women are involved, but I never succeed. The veld is thick with them. This room’s hot. I’m going out to get some fresh air,” He went out of the room and round the house to where Dolly was talking to Jacob. The moon had risen, and the sky was like polished steel. The slag heap hunched a creeked, hump-backed shoulder against the luminosity. “Mrs Hastings,” he said. “I should like to tell you a story.” Dolly looked up. She was in the kitchen and he was standing at the door. Behind him the veld was bright with the silver light of the moon. “What, now?” she exclaimed. She felt suddenly nervous. “Yes, now, said Wentworth, and he

peered into the kitchen. “That fellow can fix the food, can’t he?” “Yes, I think he can,” said Dolly. “If he makes a mess of it, I can always blame you.” “The responsibility is mine,” said Wentworth. “Would you like to walk up towards the mine with me?” Dolly shivered. “I hate that mine,” she said. “Do you know, I do honestly hate it!” “It’s a depressing blot on the landscape,” said Wentworth. “Why don’t you remove the platforms by the

shafts? Oh, I forgot. You’re going to try and work it, aren’t you?” “If we can raise the necessary capital to do so,” said Dolly. “That’s why we stick around. She nodded to Jacob, and came out of the kitchen into the still night. They walked together up towards the mine. Wentworth talked as they went. He talked about the neighbours; the Hanslows, the Greenwalds, the Kilverts, the Thomases. All of them, he said, ■ were stolid, decent people; all without much imagination; conventional to a degree; and all pegged down to the serious business of making a living. Dolly began to get a strange and uneasy knowledge of them, a knowledge that she had never troubled to get be-

fore. These people didn’t mean to be unkind, but they were like hounds, hunting by instinct. And if you were not of their pack, then they snuffled at your heels. She shivered in the moonlight. “Cold?”" said Wentworth. “You ought to have a coat.” “No, oh, no —it’s not physical,” she answered. “You’re too graphic. For a moment I felt them at my heels. I’m not of their pack.” “But you have got knowledge and independence,” said Wentworths. “You have got intelligence, too. I was really thinking of Nella Howard.” “I’ve thought about her quite a lot,” said Dolly. “So what?” “She’s got no knowledge.” “But she has got intelligence,” said Dolly. “She only needs knowledge. She wants to live on her own land with a rifle and six cows. “And that she can’t do,” said Wentworth. “Shall I tell you why? ’J'he natives wouldn’t worry her. They think she’s mad, anyway. But she’s a pretty girl, and our kindly, conventional farmers would regard her as fair game. She’s outside the pack. In three months her life would be made impossible, and the women would hound her out of the place. They’d blame her. Respectable women can be remarkably savage. Pure instinct, you know. They’re afraid of anything they can’t place, and, like savages, they suspect it and try to kill it.” “Tell me your story,” interrupted Dolly. She sat down at the foot of the slag-

heap and lit a cigarette. “It’s fortunate,” she added drily, J'that David is not a conventional husband.” “No,” said Wentworth. “He’s only uhusual. And, besides, neither of you is conventional.” “Tell me your story,” she repeated. And as Wentworth sat down by her side, and they both became conscious of the all-enveloping silence, she thought that the sound of her heart beating against her ribs must be as loud as a drum beaten in the kraal to rouse the tribes. (To be Continued).