It is dark in the bush

New Zealand Listener, Volume 6, Issue 145, 2 April 1942, Page 24

It is dark in the bush

SYNOPSIS

Three students discover the body ot James Collins on a tree in backblocks bush. The inquest reveals that Collins died of luminal poisoning and 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, and that he is known to have bought luminal soon after reaching New Zealand. Mrs. Marsden confesses to Judith that she saw Preston in the clearing on the afternoon of the murder. Preston tells t's lawyer ‘that a week before the murder Langley came to Murray’s house, Te Rata, and meeting Preston, attempted to blackmail him. Preston, after several days’ hesitation, goes up to Langley’s shack with the money and finds him already dead. There is an empty bottle of luminal on the table. Realising he will be suspected® of murder he drags the body into the bush and hangs it, hoping that in the event of its discovery, Langley will be presumed to have killed himself. Preston begs David to recover from the shanty Langley’s papers giving the full history of his blackmail victims. One of these must be the murderer. But David finds their hiding place in the rimu too late — the papers have gone. He hears movements in the shanty, there is a brief struggle but in the darkness the figure escapes unrecognised. David is almost home when he is aware that someone is following, not twenty yards behind him.

: CHAPTER XXIV. UDITH spoke just in time. "Dear me, David, is that yow lurking in the bushes? How romantic of you!" In another moment, he would Have hurled himself upon her, for in the darkness he had been perfectly certain that at last he was to come to grips with the murderer.\Well, thank Heaven he hadn’t; he could imagine the story she would have made of it at breakfast next morning. But the double disappointment was too much for his manners, and he positively growled at her. "What the hell are you doing here?" "Darling, how gallant you are! What was I doing here? I was looking for Rough, of course. The naughty boy slipped his chain and wandered off, and I was a little afraid he might get into mischief.’ David wanted to say, "That’ s a lie," but resisted the temptation. Instead he said crossly, "Well, he isn’t here. Come along home. It’s going to rain like blazes." They hurried down the track without further words. Why hadn’t she asked him what he had been doing up that track at midnight? Well, he wasn’t going to tell her; she might make up any story she liked to amuse the others. Nothing, he told himself, savagely, would be funnier than what had actually happened. As they emerged on to the open hillside, the first drops of rain fell. "It only wanted that," he muttered furiously, and blundered after Judith. The girl had switched on her torch "and walked quickly and unerringly; no question but that she knew the track almost as well as he. He stumbled after her, his head aching and his limbs heavy with weariness. The rain tore and stung now, and ordinary decency made him offer her his coat. "Go on," he said roughly, "You'll only catch your death of cold." "I never catch cold," she said with maddening superiority. "I’m abominably healthy; quite the ideal farmer’s wife."

"I don’t know about that," he growled. "John mightn’t think so if he knew. you wandered all about the countryside by yourself at midnight after that damned dog." They were turning in at the gates of the homestead as he spoke and she swung round and faced him in the shelter of the first tree that grew beside the drive. "Look here, David, here’s a bargain. I won’t say a word about your adventures to-night if you don’t :mention mine." "TIT don’t know about that," he said doggedly. "Why not? What’s all the secrecy about?" "Nothing particular, but John thinks I make too much fuss over Rough and he might be annoyed. Also, I don’t want Mr. Murray to get the idea that the dog’s unmanageable or that I’m nervous of what he may do. . . . You know how T hate a lot of fuss." ~ David surveyed the dripping’ fghre in c silence fora moment, then turned grimly away. "TI’ll give you your answer when I’ve had a look at that dog’s kennel," was all he said. Judith offered no protest but followed him in silence tothe stable yard. As they crossed the conferete paving there was a sleepy murmur: from Rough’s kennel, and the next moment the dog had sprung out and was fawfing upon his mistress. David ran his hand along the chain and collar. "All perfectly secure. Now what have you to say?"

The girl’s voice was elaborately indifferent. "Only that one of the shepherds must have heard him barking and chained him up," she replied with a 1 iaaba es "Pity you’re such a bad liar," he retorted rudely; her laugh infuriated him, so that he took her roughly by her bare arm and said, "What were yon really doing up there to-night? What’s your game? Why do you mix yourself up in all this and then lie about it?" She removed his clasp from her arm with a cool politeness that showed how angry she was, and her voice was icy. "My dear David, you're really a little mad about your sleuthing business. Why not write a thriller?" "No use putting me off like that. That manner may settle John, but I’ve known you too long." " Rather a pity, on the whole: You’re not improving on acquaintance, David. Well, what is it? Do you imagine I murdered Langley?" "Of course I don’t, but I think you know who did. I believe you're shielding someone, keeping quiet and letting Ann go through hell,".

"Do you really? Well, believe it, then. I’m too tired, and too bored with your conversation, to stay out here all night," and she turned on her heel. "Perhaps John will be able to explain," he exploded. She paused and looked at him, then said quietly, "Is that a threat? Very well. I'll give you your answer to-mor-row morning," and in a moment was gone. David slept heavily; a bruised head and aching limbs saw to that. When he sat up and looked grumpily at the clock at last, he saw that it was nine o’clock. Well, what did it matter? No one would be a penny the worse if he never got out of bed again. With a grunt of extreme self-pity, he turned over and went to sleep again. It was ten o’clock when he made a shame-faced appearance. Judith would have been before him with her story. He hardened himself for the laughter and gibes that would greet his entry. Never mind; Judith would have a spot of explaining to do too. But no one was in the dining-room and the veranda was empty. In the kitchen he found Ann peeling apples while Sally washed dishes. The face she turned to greet him did a great deal to console his battered ego. Judith might jeer at him, murderers might attack him in the night watches, here was some one who trusted and loved him utterly. Not a word about his escapades of the night before, only an anxious inquiry as to why he looked so tired and had slept so late.

"TI woke with a headache," he -_ with painful truth. "Tt’s because you worked far too hard in all that heat," she cried tenderly, and hurried to make him some breakfast. "But where’s everybody? Mrs. Marsden not ill, is she?" "No, no; nobody’s ill except you, poor dear. Mrs. Marsden’s away. Wait till I cook this bacon and then I'll sit down and tell you everything. Most exciting things have been happening." David groaned. He’d had all the excitement he wanted for a long time. When at last Ann sat down beside him in the dining-room she reproached him for his lack of inteerst. \ "Now try to guess-something that’s really jolly and exciting." He put his hand to his head. "I can’t think of anything that could possibly be both. You'll have to tell me. I haven't the brains to guess anything this morning." "Well, I’ll help yon. Everyone’s away. We've got an empty house. Judith’s gone. John’s gone. Mrs. Marsden’s gone. Now, what does that suggest?"

"Nothing except a little peace," he replied nastily. "No, darling, I don’t mean/’that, but it’ll be good to be alone with yqu. Where have they gone and how soon will they be back?" "Mrs. Marsden will be back in four days, the others not for a week. Now, you dull old darling, you must surely know. Why, they’ve gone away to be married, of course." "What? Married? So quickly?" "Why not? After all, they’ve been threatening to for weeks-at least, John has. But Judith kept putting him off till this morning, and then quite suddenly she changed her mind and they were off." So that was it. That was the answer to David’s threat which Judith had promised him in the morning. She had scored again, . Something about the whole business amazed him. Could Judith be making sure of John? No, that wasn’t in character. Angry and -puzzled though he might be, the cooler reason of morning told David that it was impossiblé for Judith to do anything so coldly calculating. He was in error again. 4

Ann talked on, bravely concealing any wistfulness she might feel at the happiness of the other couple. "We were all at breakfast and Judith came in late. That was queer in itself because she’s just about as punctual as Mrs. Marsden. By the way, David, has it ever struck you how alike those two are in lots of ways?" "Not particularly. They’re both pretty silent, but Mrs. Marsden isn’t deep. She’s just amiable and practical." "Well, so’s Judith. Darling, you have got a grouse this morning, haven’t you? Well, when we asked her if she’d been sleeping in, she said calmly, ‘No, packing up,’ and helped herself to toast just as if that wasn’t a bombshell. ‘ Whatever for?’ John asked, very sharply. ‘Why, to go to town and get married,’ she said -as quietly as that, though she flushed that pretty slow way that she sometimes does. Isn’t she a wonderful girl, David?" "Very wonderful," he replied without enthusiasm. " And John, of course, rose with a whoop?" (Continued on next page)

IT IS DARK IN THE BUSH

(Continued trom previous page) "Rather. He went quite mad. He jumped up and seized Mrs. Marsden, who was just going to make Judith some fresh tea, and whirled her round the Toom and then hugged her. We all laughed and Judith said, ‘But I make one condition, Mrs. Marsden has got to come to town to see us married.’ Then she turned to Mr. Murray and said, ‘ Of course I’d love it if Uncle George would come, too! (it was the first time she’d called him that and he just beamed); but somebody has to stay here and chaperone Ann-so I make the condition that Mrs. Marsden represents the family.’" "Curious her being so keen on the o!d girl. I know she likes Mrs. Marsden, but Judith always said there was only one way to do the job, just to walk into a church one day and say, ‘Let’s get married ’ and not have a soul there that you know." " Well, she isn’t having anyone else. You see, her people are all away at the beach still and she says it would be silly to drag them home just for that." "And yet she prances to the alter attended by John’s old nurse-talk about sentimentalism; why, it’s positively Victorian." "Oh, but Mrs. Marsden’s a lot more than John’s old nurse. You know that, darling; you’re just being tiresome. And you're not fair to Judith. It’s nonsense to try to make ‘out that she ever poses. Judith’s always just herself."

"Maybe. Well, get on with the story, my child. What did Mrs. Marsden say? I do hope she ran true to form and remarked, ‘ Really, John, you must let me make Judith some tea.’" " Well, she didn’t. It was rather queer -I almost thought she was going to cry for one moment, if you could imagine her doing that." "T couldn’t. You’re a sentimental little idiot. You were probably crying yourself." "T wasn’t. I/wouldn’t have dreamt of doing anything so selfish. Yes, I suppose I was wrong, because she is so utterly unemotional. Still, you know, she’s really fond of John. Anyway, her face did crumple up for a moment and she turned away from us all; Judith said something quickly and no one noticed but me. When she turned back she was just as usual and smiled and said, ‘ Well, if I must, I must-though I do think it’s Mr. Murray’s place to go. However, it all fits in very nicely, because I really must go to a dentist.’" "That was one in the eye for Judith. Did she mind?" "Not a bit. She seemed pleased, though I’d have been hurt if anyone had coupled my wedding with a visit to the dentist. She was just going to the slide for some toast and as she passed Mrs. Marsden I saw her catch her hand and give it a little squeeze, But John roared -with laughter and said, ‘That’s the spirit, Marsy. Trust you not to get excited over a little thing like a wedding. If once you did, I'd know for sure that the world was coming to an end.’ She smiled at him and said placidly, ‘Now, be a good boy and let me get on with my work. If I’m going away this morn-

ing there are things I must see to.’ Do you know David, I like Mrs. Marsden, but she’d drive me mad if I were John and Judith. I do like people to have a little feeling. And so they’ve all gone and left me in charge of you and Mr, Murray." "Well, I’ve got you to myself at last. I wish they’d stay away for months." "But, David, you’re not. forgetting that there isn’t much time? There’s less than a week now." "Till the trial? Sweetheart, was I likely to forget? What are the others doing about that?" "Mrs. Marsden will be back in time to go with us. The other two will meet us there.". "'That’s settled, then, and we needn’t talk about it. Lets make the most of our few days. What are you going to do now?" "'Sew. You can sit and talk while I patch, because I hate sewing. And it’s such a huge tear-just look at it! Mrs. Marsden always says that John’s hard on his clothes and Mr. Murray isn’t, but this is his. I found it in his room and he must have forgotten all about it, because it was stuffed right away at the back of his chest of drawers. Fancy Mr. Murray being so careless! If I hadn’t dropped his collar stud while I was dusting I’d never have found it. How on earth did he come to tear his shirt sleeve like that?"

But David was not listening to Ann, for once. He was staring at the shirt she had spread on the table. It was soft and silky and all one sleeve was ripped and torn. "Tt looks as if someone had tried to pull it out, doesn’t it? Or as if he had been having a fight-if you can picture Mr. Murray doing anything like that. Why, David, what’s the matter? You're quite pale. I’m sure you're getting influenza." He spoke slowly and painfully. "I’m not ill, dear. Only disappointed. I thought we’d have a splendid time together and now I’ve just remembered the most beastly business in town." " Business in town! Oh, David!" _ "Darling, don’t look like that. You don’t feel nearly as upset as I do. Fact is, I’ve been a fool. There’s something that I ought to have thought of long ago, No, I can’t explain just now-but I’ve simply got to buzz off on the old bike right away. I won’t even wait to say good-bye to Mr. Murray. You'll explain, won’t you? Never mind, my dear-we’ll meet in town in five days and meantime I'll ring you every evening." Ten minutes later he was closing the Te Rata gates behind him; he gave one glance at the old house where he had been so happy, then turned his face resolutely to town. "And this time the -police will have to listen to me," he said grimly. CHAPTER XXV. Morgan shook his head and looked with a certain pity at the eager face of the young man who sat on the opposite side of the table. " They can’t make an arrest on that." "You mean that you think there’s nothing in it?" "My dear boy," said the lawyer patiently, "what I think has unfortu-

nately nothing to do with it. It’s a question of what action the police may think fit to take or not take, and I tell you they can’t arrest a man on the hypothetical case you’ve made out." " But don’t you see how it all fits in? Nobody knows where George Murray was on the afternoon of the murder; he could easily get up to Langley’s place and back without anyone seeing him. He’s had as much access as he wanted to the farm ever since and ample opportunity for getting rid of the papers. He must have followed me last night afd thought I’d found something of importance that he’d overlooked. I’m perfectly certain it was him I struggled with in the cottage; it was the powerful arm of a strofig: man. Last of all, there’s the shirt, torn like that and hidden away until he had a chance of destroying it." The lawyer smiled whimsically. "It only remains to prove that George Murray once possessed a shirt made of grey green linen. After all, why not? It’s an unlikely colour for a shirt, but they go in for queer shades nowadays and the actual material might as well have come from a shirt as a woman’s dress. None of us ever took that much-into consideration, but why not?" (To be continued next week)