Part 19 (1/2)

'She'll do as her father says,' replied Wallace.

'I don't think so,' said Phryne. 'She's a Sapphic. She's in love with my sister. Even if Roddy resorts to what used to be called marriage by capture, she isn't going to be overcome by his physique, you know. She'll just lay a complaint of rape. And they hang you for rape in Australia, even if you are a lord. Also for being an accessory, I believe.'

'Shut up,' said Wallace.

'They also hang you for murder,' said Phryne quietly.

'I said shut up!' Wallace came close enough to slap Phryne across the face. At least it got rid of some of the flour. The slap rocked the chair back on its back legs. It made a heartening cracking noise. Phryne tried to make it thump down hard on one leg, which creaked. Excellent. If she couldn't get the ropes off perhaps she could demolish the chair.

'That's enough of that, my man!' snapped Phryne, using the accents which Wallace had obeyed all his life. He backed off, returning to his place by the fire.

'Historic little hut,' remarked Phryne after a few moments of listening to the rain. 'Where are we?'

'Why should I tell you that?'

'Because I am asking civilly,' she said, using the same tone.

'Hasn't got a name,' said Wallace. 'Close to the Moonlight road. Bloke in the pub told us about it. Hunters use it.'

'And it has a nice deep mine shaft. Did the bloke in the pub tell you about that too?' asked Phryne encouragingly. Wallace found he was having a conversation.

'No, it was a stroke of luck. Rod almost fell down it. We dropped a plummet and it's at least thirty feet and water at the bottom. Perfect.'

'How very useful. Every convenience. They will take you away to the court, Wallace. An old man with a black cap on his wig will sentence you to death and ask G.o.d to have mercy on your soul. Then you'll wait awhile, imagining what it is going to be like. Then they'll come in the morning, they'll march you up the wooden stairs. They'll put a bag over your head and a hemp rope around your neck. Eight turns in the hangman's rope, Wallace. Then they'll drop you through the trap and into eternity. If they've been careful, it will break your neck almost instantly. If they've been careless, and they are not highly paid men, then you'll strangle slowly, kicking, or the drop will tear your head off. All this if you stay with Roddy and his insane plans. All this will come to pa.s.s.'

Her voice was soft, hypnotic. Wallace took some time before he snarled, 'I told you to shut up!' and hit Phryne again. The chair back snapped, but he did not notice.

'We ain't gonna get out of this, son,' said Bill Gaskin to Young Billy.

'Don't say that, Dad!' protested the dazed boy. 'We just have to hold on until the cavalry arrives.'

The door burst open. It wasn't the cavalry. Roderick had come back.

Poems of a Vagrant Weed I call for another pot of wineAnd me and the moon drink togetherShe never takes more than a sipSo there's lots left for me.

The spring wind blows harshlyAnd tears the blossoms from the tree.Spring has dealt so harshly with meThat all my flowers are blown.

Sweet songs the oriole sings;Spring songs. I shut the blind.I wish no songs of spring in my houseWhere learning is my mistress.

It is so warm and gentle a day The sun pools heavily in my upturned palms. One would never have thought That blood once filled my hands with red Also warm; also alive.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

Oh, hush the night, each minute an ounce of gold While faintly floats the music of flute and song. So fragrant the air, so cool the midnight courtyard, While darkly glides the silent night along.

Su Tungpo, translated by Lin Yutang Li Pen arrived after a slow journey on the early train and found his master buying drinks in the bar of the Imperial for the morning crowd. There was plenty to talk about and the pub was busy. Li Pen was about to utter a reproof when he realised that Lin Chung had one untouched gla.s.s of beer in front of him, while the rest of the pub was enjoying OP Queensland rum heart-starters. Lin was pale but composed and Li Pen decided not to comment; in fact, he would recommend a gla.s.s of brandy when Lin had ascertained whatever it was he was trying to find out.

'So you talked to this Atkins,' said Lin very gently, as if he was trying to coax a wild bird into his hand. 'And he was a great hunter?'

'Shot and fished all over the world,' said Mr Harrison.

'Knew a lot about it. Told some good stories. Aub told him about his croc. Said he wanted to do a bit of rough shooting and we said there's only rabbits round here, mate, and he said he didn't care.'

'And where did you suggest that he go for his rabbits?' asked Lin delicately. The bird was just stepping onto his palm.

'Up that way,' said Mr Harrison, pointing. 'Second turn on the right off the Moonlight road there's a big burnt stump. Turn off there and there's a bush hut about quarter of a mile. He said that'd be good-o.'

'Thank you,' said Lin, his timid bird in hand at last. He dropped some silver on the bar, drained one small gla.s.s of the OP rum, and collected Li Pen on the way out.

'I've been pumping those fools for half an hour,' he said to Li Pen a little defensively. 'That was my only drink.'

'I was about to suggest that you take one,' said Li Pen. 'You have not slept. You feel that the Silver Lady is in that hut?'

'Yes, or nearby. Cholmondeley hasn't had time to find a more elaborate hiding place. That is the only suitable one those morons in there told him about.'

'Then we should tell the police of your suspicions,' said Li Pen.

'I left a note,' said Lin. 'Sergeant Hammond is out hara.s.sing motorists. A young boy is missing also and the only reason he was wanted is because he is the final heir. They must be going to kill them, Li Pen. Nothing else makes sense.'

'Sense and nonsense are in the eye of the beholder,' said Li Pen. 'Let us go and try to sort out one from the other.'

The big car slid out through the roadblock.

The directions were no more difficult to follow than such directions usually are. After taking one wrong turn and digging the car out of a wallow, Lin Chung saw the hut and stopped the car.

'How shall we know that she is there?' asked Li Pen.

Lin pointed to a new, s.h.i.+ny, mud-spattered Bentley.

They closed the car doors very quietly. No window in the rude hut faced this gravel track. They approached the house, treading as light as leaves.

Roderick had reached the conclusion that Phryne had hoped he wouldn't.

'If we just kill them,' he told Wallace, 'then it doesn't matter about the d.a.m.ned paper.'

'You care a great deal about the honour of your family, don't you, Roddy?' asked Phryne in her English voice.

'Of course,' he responded automatically.

'The accusation of murder which Thomas Beaconsfield made against your great grandfather upset you, didn't it?' insin-uated Phryne, leaning on the weak leg of her rickety chair. It had started to splinter very promisingly. 'Your family honour is your obsession.'

'The nerve of that hound, saying such things about a Cholmondeley!' said Roddy, looking at Phryne for the first time. Bill Gaskin and Young Billy didn't move, sensing that something was happening. 'I won't have such things-such lies-noised abroad.'

'And what are you going to do with Wallace?' asked Phryne in the same intimate tone, as though they were alone. 'Think of what he knows about you! Think of what he could tell the press! Think of waking up one morning to find the paper with a headline ”Dunstable Dishonoured”!'