It is dark in the bush.

New Zealand Listener, Volume 6, Issue 138, 13 February 1942, Page 24

It is dark in the bush.

SYNOPSIS While seeking a short cut through backBlocks bush, David Armstrong discovers the body of a nearby shanty owner, James Collins, strung up on a tree. With Judith Anson, he seeks help at the nearest house, where George Murray, his nephew John, their housekeeper, Mrs. Marsden, and their guests, a Mr. Graham, and his daughter Ann. The inquest reveals that Collins died of luminal poisoning, and that the body was afterwards hanged. Graham is arrested, evidence against him being that as Charles Preston, he suffered a heavy jail sentence in Australia for a crime for which his secretary, Peter Langley (alias Collins), was responsible; he is one of the few men strong enough to have hoisted the body on to the tree, and he had a bottle of luminal in his possession. Ann refuses to marry David until her father’s name is cleared. Meanwhile, Judith and Mrs. Marsden become firm friends, and Judith realises that underneath her calm exterior Mrs. Marsden is a woman of strong emotions, She tells Judith something of John, and her deep affection for him is apparent. John’s father was from all accounts a harsh and intolerant man, and John’s mother died when he was two, since when he has been under Mrs. Marsden’s care. Ann, David and John go clue-hunting at the scene of the crime and bring back a piece of green stuff which Judith realises belongs to a dress of Mrs. Marsden’s. Mrs. Marsden confesses to Judith that she was present in the clearing at the time of the crime, and saw Preston there. She did not tell the police, as she fears to implicate Preston. She swears Judith to secrecy, and affirms her confidence in Preston’s innocence. It looks to Judith as though Mrs. Marsden is in love with Preston. At a preliminary Rearing, the defence is reserved. But the prosecution produces a drover who saw Preston in the clearing on the fatal afternoon. Preston’s story had been that he did not know that Langley was in the district, and he completely denied being near the clearing on the fatal afternoon. Can his whole story be false? cé WY sci do the lawyers say?" Judith asked John Murray, after Ann had gone indoors ‘ to rest. "Oh, they’re pretty mad. You see, they had no warning at all, and it looks damned bad-to say he had been no- whére near the place." "Yes. No doubt at all he was there, I’m afraid," said Judith gloomily. "Preston still protests his innocence, of course-but it sounds altogether such a tall story." "T believe him all the same," said David stoutly. "I was with Ann when she had her interview with him and Ill swear. that man’s innocent, however black his case looks." "What happened? Or isn’t it fair to ask?" . ; " Everything’s fair. As you said a fortnight_ ago, we’re all im this together. There was little enough. Of course there was a warder there, but he was very decent, stood at the door and tried not to hear." "And Ann?" "Ann was a marvel. The most wonderful little girl. Not a tremor." "Plucky kid!" "Yes. It was sheer grit and of course she’s paid for it since. She went up to him and reached up on tiptoe to put her arms round his neck. " Father dear," she said, "don’t forget I’m thinking of you all the time." Then she drew down his head and kissed him." "And he?" ; "Tt rather broke him up. Poor devil, he hung on to her as if she was all he'd

got-which I suppose she is. Presently he said, ‘Ann, I didn’t kill him. You do believe that, don’t you?’ She never faltered. ‘Of course I do, and so does David. We both know you didn’t do it.’ ‘You'll stick to that whatever happens?’ She looked him squarely in the eyes and said, ‘We'll stick to that — whatever happens. But nothing’s going to happen, Father. We're going to prove you innocent to all the world-I know we are.’ He looked at her queerly and said, ‘That’s your mother speaking. Her voice, her words. Ann, you had a wonderful mother and thank God you're like her.’ She said, with the cheeriest little smile, just like a mother with a scared baby, ‘Yes, dear, I’m glad I’m like her, because that pleases you; and I want to be like you, too, because that would: please her.’ Then the warder coughed and came over. ‘Sorry, Miss Preston, but time’s up.’ She smiled very sweetly at him and kissed her father again and said quite’ loudly, * Remember, I’m thinking of you all the time,’ and he said, ‘Good-bye, Ann. I can’t feel so desperate after this.’ Then he shook hand with me and said, ‘I’m glad she’s got you,’ and I, feeling and looking like a fool, said; ‘She'll always have that, sir — good-bye, and good luck!" And that was all." "Poor Ann," said Judith, the rare tears in her eyes. "It doesn’t seem a bit fair that she should have all this to bear." . "It. was. pretty awful," said David slowly. "I ‘know I néyer want to go through anything like it again, The trouble is that there'll be worse to follow." "Don’t say that." "T can’t help thinking it. I feel hopeless to-day. The ghastly part about saying good-bye to him like that was the thought that there’ll be another and a worse good-bye presently." "Don’t," said Judith quickly, shivering in spite of the warmth of the day. "We must believe. We’ve got to believe." But it was hard to believe a few days later when Morgan came out once more. The lawyer was a very worried man as he sat in Mr. Murray’s office facing the three men. " Good lord, it’s a mess!" he groaned. * Any child could have made up a better story. The thing’s fantastic." " What is his story?" It was George Murray’s voice, and his face was white and lined with anxiety. Surely, thought David, he had taken the cause of his guest very much to heart? "He hasn’t said he’s guilty?" rapped out David with sharp anxiety. "No, but it’s just hopeless. The wildest story. No jury could be expected to entertain it for a moment. I can tell you that Ashton isn’t looking forward to

his job- having to go into court and defend a case like this. You can guess the history of the last week. Endless interviews, endless prevarications, endless attempts at reconstruction — and then, this! Preston still swears he didn’t kill the man, but he admits he strung him up in that tree." " What?" "Good God-he hanged him?" What do you mean?" It was David’s voice and it shook for a moment. "He hanged\him but he didn’t kill him?" "No. He says that Langley was dead when he found him." "Thien why?. «i :" "Exactly. Why hang a dead man? That’s the ridiculous part of it. Really, it would be better if he would confess. There’s a lot of sympathy for him. No one would condemn him utterly. People have never forgotten that romantic story-his attempt to break gaol for the sake of his dying wife, and the bad luck he had in killing that warder. Every one knew Langley as the worst possible skunk. Apparently, from what we’ve been able to discover, the Preston swindle was only one episode in a rotten life. He’s been every kind of a scoundrel -women, blackmail, petty crimes-but always been able to slip throtgh the noose. He’s a despicable rotter, far better dead-and Preston’s only hope of escaping the gallows is to admit that he did him in." "But why should he admit it-when he didn’t do it?" It was David who spoke, and for a minute the two men glared angrily at each other, then Mr. Murray’s voice-in-tervened. "Suppose you tell us the story without comments? Then we can judge. for ourselves," The lawyer looked resentfully round then began in a carefully non-committal voice. "Preston admits now that he knew Langley’s identity with the man Collins and where he lived for a week before the murder. He still asserts that he did not know he was there, did not know he was even in New Zealand till accident revealed it to him. As I said, it was a week before the murder and he was sitting on the side veranda of this house. He heard someone speaking to Mrs. Marsden at the back door, and, though he could not distinguish the words, he seemed to recognise something familiar annd sinister about the voice." "You are sure," interpolated George Murray quietly, "that he did not hear the conversation?" " Quite-though that would not have been of importance, probably as. Mrs. Marsden has just told me the man merely called to leave a letter for you and made

some casual observations about the weather. .. . By the way, Mr. Murray, what was in that letter?" " Nothing that will help us. He merely wrote to ask if my men would give him a hand to muster the day before the sale." " Curious that he would write and not just ask you?" "TI thought so too. But he had called before, apparently, and found me out. Perhaps he wrote the note with the idea of leaving it if I should be out again, as I was." "You haven’t the letter?" " Unfortunately, no. It was three lines on a dirty scrap of paper and I simply read it and dropped it into the kitchen stove as I stood there. One of the men rode up to tell him it would be all right, and as you know they gave him a hand on the day before the sale. To tell you the truth, I quite forgot about the note and I assumed, without even bothering to mention it to Mrs. Marsden, that she had found it with the rest of my mail in the letter-box at the gate." "T see. As you say, it’s not important. Mrs. Marsden bears out Preston’s statement that the man was there." " And he saw him then?" asked David, impatient to get on with the fatal story. "Yes. He says he’d got to his feetat the sound of that voice and was standing there trying to assure himself that he must be mad or dreaming when the man turned the corner of the house and their eyes met." "What happened then?" "He said, ‘ Hello, Gaol-bird-well met,’ and grinned. Preston didn’t speak. He admits that at the moment he couldn’t trust himself. The other turned on his heel and was gone before Preston had pulled himself together." "The damned scoundrel!" cried John Murray. "Murder or no murder, he wasn’t fit to live." " Unfortunately," commented the lawyer. drily, "that consideration will not weight heavily with the judge-or the jury. To resume, The encounter, Preston admits, weighed terribly upon his mind, (Continued on next page)

IT IS DARK IN THE BUSH (Continued from previous page)

He felt all the old bitterness well up in his heart again, the hatred that had poisoned life for him in that Australian prison. He knew his one hope was to keep away from him, and he learned with thankfulness that the man was to leave the district in a few days. Unfortunately then Langley overdid things. Not content with the old injury, he apparently thought that he might wring a little more out of his victim. He met him in a deserted part of the road one day-evidently after dogging him about for some time — and’ demanded hush money from him. He said ‘that he was down and out and that old pals should stick together. Preston admits that it was hard to keep his hands off the little rat, but he simply told him that, if he saw him starving in the gutter he would never give him a penny piece. Then the scoundrel tried threats, blackmail. Would he like his pretty little daughter to know? She seemed mighty thick with that young runholder, but old George Murray was far too proud a man to stand having a gaolbird’s daughter for his nephew’s wife." David uttered a curse that shocked himself, and to his surprise George Murray echoed it. ~ "Vermin. ... Vermin, . .. The man’s better dead," he said. Then, after a moment, pulling himself together, " But proceed, please Mr. Morgan. We want to hear it all." "Langley left him in a bitter rage, uttering all sorts of threats that Preston says he hardly heard. The man, he thinks, was mad, for he says that he appeared to hate not merely himself but most of the people around. He has a distinct recollection of his uttering all sorts of hints about the people at Te Rata." "He must have been mad, indeed," said George Murray shortly. "I hardly knew the fellow. Nor did you, John, I think?" "Spoke to him half a dozen times," said the nephew laconically. "He must have been dotty, I should think." "Curiously enough, Preston has the impression that he was talking about you, all the same. However, as you say, that is not a matter of importance. Our man went home entirely shattered by the interview but determined to put it from his thoughts. After all, there was no real harm that the blackguard could do him now. He’d paid for his crimes-or his mistakes-and that was over. However, the thought of .his daughter weighed on his mind and he felt mad with rage at the dreadful coincidence that had thrown him in the path of ‘his old enemy." "He seems indeed to have been marked down by fate. Go on." "It culminated on the day of the sale. When he woke he found a scrap of paper thrown in at his window with the words, ‘ Your last chance. To-night I speak.’ He spent a day of misery and at last he made up his mind. Rightly or wrongly, he decided that his daughter had suffered injury enough through his fault in the past; she should know noth‘ing of the stain on her name. So he set

off from the house about four o'clock, taking all the money he had and his cheque-book with him. He rushed up the track and through the bush, intent on catching Langley before he left the shanty. He found his enemmy-but someone else had been there before him. Langley lay dead upon the sack bunk of his filthy whare." CHAPTER XVI. Morgan paused dramatically but no one spoke. All three men sat with eyes fixed on him, waiting breathlessly for the next words. " At first Preston was conscious of only one feeling — one of intense joy and relief. Fate had intervened. The wretched man had killed himself-for no thought of foul play-entered his head. Langley had been only bluffing with him; when the bluff failed he had seen his last hope of money go with it. The stock that had been sdld that day belonged to the firm who held a bill of sale over them. He had nothing and he dared not begin again his life of banditry in the cities. He knew that he was a marked man. There was no avenue open for him. On the table lay a bottle of whisky, almost empty. Even in Australian days Langley had been a heavy drinker. He had heard Mr, Murray speak of him with scorn as a sot. Presumably he had put some drug into his liquor and had chosen the easy way out." "But surely," said John Murray, his face very puzzled, "It was the easy way out for Mr. Preston too. His enemy was dead. Why didn’t he turn and leave him?" , "He was going to do so, He had already looked about him to see that no trace had been anywhere left of his visit -when suddenly his eye caught something that made him stop. It was an empty bottle of luminal and it lay beside the dead man’s hand." "Yes. The stomach showed traces of a big dose. But why did that matter?" asked John. David gave a sudden exclamation, leaning forward in his excitement. "Luminal. Of course. And he remembered that he himself had bought it." George Murray drew a deep breath. "He was afraid. He knew that it could be traced." "Yes. Common sense told him that once Langley’s death was known the police would soon get on to his story. The old business in Australia would all come out and his own whereabouts be the next inquiry. He realised that he could. easily be traced to Auckland and then the luminal purchase would be discovered. He knew it was an uncommon drug-as a matter of fact, he admits that he himself had known little of it till some men on the boat were discussing sedatives and one spoke of the marvellous effects of luminal on nerves that were racked by sleeplessness." "Can we find those men who were talking about it?" Morgan shrugged. " They were through passengers to America and "he doesn’t even know their names. As a matter of fact, we wouldn’t advance our cause much if we did find them. We can’t disprove the purchase of luminal and we know

that luminal was the cause of Langley’s death." "Good lord, how hopeless it all seems!" groaned John. " Exactly. That was how it seemed to Preston. He says that he stood stock still and gazed at that empty bottle which still carried a luminal label, but from which the chemist’s name had been removed. Preston had finished his own bottle and thrown it away. He couldn’t produce it. He says that he seemed to feel the rope closing round his neck. He saw in a flash that Langley had, quite unknowingly, taken the most complete and devastating revenge in the moment of his death." "And then?" * And then he admits he lost his head. Oh, granting for a moment that he’s been speaking the truth this time, you can’t wonder at it. Picture his position-a man always hounded by fate, as Mr. Murray has said. It would be the last straw. He has all the old lag’s fear of the police, The motive for the crime is there. The very evidence of the empty luminal bottle stares him in the face. Small wonder that he went mad for a minute." "And while he was mad what did he do?" George Murray’s voice was so unlike his own that even John looked up sharply and the lawyer was apologetic. "It’s a nasty story and I can see that it’s worrying you, Mr. Murray." The older man made a gesture of impatience. " Nonsense. I’m not a fool or a baby. For God’s sake, man, get on with it." The two young men gaped; not even John had ever heard his kindly. and gentle-spoken uncle give way like this.

The horror of the story hed evidently worked badly upon nerves already frayed by the extraordinary happenings of the last month, George Murray was a man of importance, and the lawyer did not show the resentment that he doubtless felt. He coughed apologetically and began to talk once more, and as the tale unfolded it seemed to his hearers that they had left the sensible, everyday world and plunged abruptly inte some realm of horrible fantasy. "His one idea, he says, was to attempt to hide the body. At first he thought of burying it in the bush, and he searched wildly in all the sheds for any kind of spade or shovel. There wasn’t a thing. Apparently every worn-out tool had been sold to raise a few more pence for the mortgages, Preston felt his brain reeling. Time was passing. At any moment somebody might come in and the suicide -that he knew would never be accepted for asuicide-be discovered. What could he do? Onge again he had that distinct impression of the hangman's rope-and that gave him his sudden fatal inspiration. In the corner of the empty tumbledown shed he had noticed a new rope. Its incongruousness in those bare and penniless surroundings . had impressed itself upon his sub-conscious brain. As we have found out since. the rope was one left by your own workmen, Mr. Murray, when they had helped Langley to muster and dehorn some cattle a week or so before." "Yes. It was my rope. Both Johnson and Smith knew it well and remember leaving it there," (To be continued next. week)