0) & .i-S gg£? iBooks by Ngaio Marsh in the Jl ^$ IjUlverscroft Large Print Series: lu£& -J £Q F' - §£§^ i§i^ *S£.c & r° r £ £ DEATH AT THE DOLPHIN DEAD WATER FALSE SCENT SCALES OF JUSTICE DEATH AT THE BAR COLOUR SCHEME This Large Print Edition is published by kind permission of COLLINS, LONDON & GLASGOW it if iS £ c^ -?. *0^C'!'\ v«&\ NGAIO MARSH %\%^ V^ v X MX Q ' „ %%Cv'^ ^^m ^^-"^ ',- v^x '^ -' - ><$ " -4 "o >. COLOUR SCHEME c= Complete and Unabridged ULVERSCROFT Leicester First published by Collins in 1943 First Large Print Edition published April 1976 SBN 85456 423 3 © Ngaio Marsh, 1943 To The Family at Tauranga This special large print edition is made and printed in England for F. A. Thorpe, Glenfield, Leicestershire CONTENTS page 1 The Claires and Dr. Ackrington i 2 Mr. Questing Goes Down for the First Time 37 3 Gaunt at the Springs 81 4 Red for Danger no 5 Mr. Questing Goes Down for the Second Time 148 6 Arrival of Sqptimus Falls 183 7 Torpedo 218 8 Concert 256 9 Mr. Questing Goes Down for the Third Time 293 10 Entrance of Sergeant Webley 337 11 The Theory of the Put-Up Job 383 12 Skull 426 13 Letter from Mr. Questing 455 14 Solo by Septimus Falls 491 15 The Last of Septimus Falls 519 CAST OF CHARACTERS dr. james ackrington, M.D., F.R.C.S., F.R.C.P. barbara claire, his niece. mrs. claire, his sister. colonel edward claire, his brother-in law. simon claire, his nephew. huia, maid at Waiatatapu. geoffrey gaunt, a visiting celebrity. dikon bell, his secretary. alfred colly, his servant. maurice questing, man of business. rua te kahu, a chief of the Te Rarawas. herbert smith, roustabout at Waiatatapu. eru saul, a half-caste. septimus falls. the princess te papa (mrs. te papa), of the Te Rarawas. detective-sergeant webley, of the Harpoon Constabulary. A superintendent of Police. MAORI WORDS USED IN THE TEXT Aue I Aue I Aue I Te mamae i au} Alas! Alas! Alas! my grief. Haere mai, Welcome. Hapu, Clan. Kainga, Unfortified place of residence. Marae, Enclosed space in front of house. Matagouriy (incorrect dog-Maori), Discaria toumautUy (Prickly shrub). MakutUy Bewitch. Na waitana ?, From whom are we ? Pa, Fortified place. Used loosely for native village. Pakeha, Foreigner. Chiefly used for white man. f Tokiy Adze. Toki-poutangata, Greenstone-adze. Whare, House. CHAPTER ONE The Claires and Dr. Ackrington \ WHEN Dr. James Ackrington limped into the Harpoon Club on the afternoon of Monday, January the thirteenth, he was in a poisonous temper. A sequence of events had combined to irritate and then to inflame him. He had slept badly. He had embarked he scarcely knew why, on a row with his sister, a row based obscurely on the therapeutic value of mud pools and the technique of frying eggs. He had asked for the daily paper of the previous Thursday only to discover that it had been used to wrap up Mr. Maurice Questing's picnic lunch. His niece Barbara, charged with this offence, burst out into one of her fits of nervous laughter and recovered the paper, stained with ham fat and reeking with onions. Dr. Ackrington, in shaking it angrily before her, had tapped his sciatic nerve smartly against the table. Blind with pain and white with rage he stumbled to his room, undressed, took a shower, wrapped himself in his dressing gown and made his way to the hottest of the thermal baths, only to find Mr. Maurice Questing sitting in it, his unattractive outline rimmed with effervescence. Mr. Questing had laughed offensively and announced his intention of remaining in-the pool for twenty minutes. He had pointed out the less hot but unoccupied baths. Dr. Ackrington, standing in the hardened bluish mud banks that surrounded the pool, embarked on as violent a quarrel as he could bring about with a naked smiling antagonist who returned no answer to the grossest insults. He then went back to his room, dressed and, finding nobody upon whom to pour out his wrath, drove his car ruthlessly up the sharp track from Wai-ata-tapu Hot Springs to the main road for Harpoon. He left behind him an atmosphere well suited to his mood, since the air, as always, reeked of sulphurous vapours. Arrived at the club, he collected his letters and turned into the writing-room. The windows looked across the Harpoon Inlet whose waters on this midsummer morning were quite unscored by ripples and held immaculate the images of sky and white sand, and of the crimson flowering trees that bloom at this time of year in the Northland of New Zealand. A shimmer of heat rose from the pavement outside the club and under its influence the forms of trees, hills, and bays seemed to shake a Uttle as if indeed the strangely primitive landscape were still taking shape and were rather a half-realised idea than a concrete accomplishment of nature. It was a beautiful prospect but Dr. Ackrington was not really moved by jj it. He reflected that the day would be snortingly hot and opened his letters. Only one of them seemed to arrest his attention. He spread it out before him on the writing table and glared at it, whistling slightly between his teeth. i This is*what he read: Harley Chambers, auckland, C.i My dear Dr. Ackrington, I am venturing to ask for your advice in a rather tricky business involving a patient of mine, none other than our visiting celebrity the famous Geoffrey Gaunt. As 7 you probably know, he arrived in Australia with his Shakespearean company just before war broke out and remained there, continuing to present his repertoire of plays but handing over a very generous dollop of all takings to the patriotic funds. On the final disbandment of his company he came to New Zealand, where, as you may not know (I remember your loathing of radio), he has done some excellent propaganda stuff on the air. About four weeks ago he consulted me. He complained of insomnia, acute pains in the joints, loss of appetite and intense depression. He asked me if I thought he had a chance of being accepted for active service. He wants to get back to England but only if he can be of use. I diagnosed fibrositis and nervous debility, put him on a very simple diet, and told him I certainly did not consider him fit for any sort of war service. It seems he has an idea of writing his autobiography. They all do it. I suggested that he might combine this with a course of hydrotherapy and complete rest. I suggested Rotorua, but he won't hear of it. Says he'd be plagued with lion hunters and what-not and that he can't stand the tourist atmosphere. You'll have guessed what I'm coming to. I know you are living at Waiatatapu, and understand that the Spa is under your sister's or her husband's management. I have heard that you are engaged on a magnum opus so therefore suppose that the place is conducive to quiet work. Would you be very kind and tell me if you think it would suit my patient, and if Colonel and Mrs. Claire would care to have him as a resident for some six weeks or more? I know that you don't practise nowadays, and it is with the greatest diffidence that I make my final suggestion. Would you care to keep a professional eye on Mr. Gaunt ? He is an interesting figure, and I venture to hope that you may feel inclined to take him as a sort of patient extraordinary. I must add that, frankly, I should be very proud to hand him on to so distinguished a consultant. « Gaunt has a secretary and a manservant, and I understand he would want accommodation for both of them. Please forgive me for writing what I fear may turn out to be a tiresome and exacting letter. Yours very sincerely, lANFORSTER Dr. Ackrington read this letter through twice, folded it, placed it in his pocket book, and, still whistling between his teeth, filled his pipe and lit it. After some five minutes5 cogitation he drew a sheet of paper towards him and began to cover it with his thin irritable script. Dear Forster (he wrote), Many thanks for your letter. It requires a frank answer and I give it for what it is worth. Wai-ata-tapu, is as you suggest, the property of my sister and her husband, who run it as a thermal spa. In many ways they are perfect fools, but they are honest fools and that is more than one can say of most people engaged in similar pursuits. The whole place is grossly mismanaged in my opinion, but I don't know that you would find anyone else who would agree with me. Claire is an army man and it's a pity he has failed so signally to absorb in the smallest degree the principles of system and orderly control that must at some time or another have been suggested to him. My sister is a bookish woman. However incompetent, she seems to command the affection of her martyred clients, and I am her only critic. Perhaps it is unnecessary to add that they make no money and work like bewildered horses at an occupation that requires merely the application of common sense to make it easy and profitable. On the alleged therapeutic properties of the baths you have evidently formed your own opinion. They consist, as you are aware, of thermal springs whose waters contain alkalis, free sulphuric acid, and free carbonic gas. There are also siliceous mud baths in connection with which my brother-in-law talks loosely and freely of fadio activity. This latter statement I fegard as so much pious mumbo-jumbo, fept I am alone in my opinion. The mud Ojay be miraculous. My leg is no worse since I took to using it. JdAs for your spectacular patient, I don't Mow to what degree of comfort he is used, ••.'tot can promise him he won't get it, though t&ormous and misguided efforts will be IttfKle to accommodate him. Actually there ifemo reason why he shouldn't be comfetable. Possibly his secretary and man Wght succeed where my unfortunate relatives may safely be relied upon to fail. I doubt if he will be more wretched than he would be anywhere else in this extraordinary country. The charges will certainly be less than elsewhere. Six guineas a week for resident patients. Possibly Gaunt would like a private sitting-room for which I imagine there would be an extra charge. Tonks of Harpoon is the visiting medical man. I need say no more. Possibly it is an oblique recommendation of the waters that all Tonks's patients who have taken them have at least survived. There is no reason why I should not keep an eye on your man and I shall do so if you and he wish it. What you say of him modifies my previous impression that he was one of the emasculate popinjays who appear to form the nucleus of the intelligentsia at Home in these degenerate days. Bloomsbury. My magnum opus, as you no doubt ironically call it, crawls on in spite of the concreted efforts of my immediate associates to withhold the merest necessities for undisturbed employment. I confess that the autobiographical outpourings of persons connected with the theatre seem to me to bear little relation to serious work, and where I fail, Mr. Geofrey Gaunt may well succeed. 8 Again, many thanks for your letter, Yours, james ackrington P.S. I should be doing you and your patient a disservice if I failed to tell you that the place is infested by as offensive a fellow as I have ever come across. I have the gravest suspicions regarding this person. J.A. As Dr. Ackrington sealed and directed this letter a trace of complacency lightened the habitual austerity of his face. He rang the bell, ordered a small whisky-and-soda and with an air of relishing his employment began a second letter. Roderick Alleyn, Esq., Chief-Inspector, C.I.D., c/o Central Police Station, Auckland. Sir, The newspapers, with gross indiscretion, report you as having come to this country in connection with scandalous leakages of information to the enemy, notably those which led to the sinking of S.S. Hippolyte last November. I consider it my duty to inform you of the activities of a person at present living at Wai-ata-tapu Hot Springs, Harpoon Inlet. This person, calling himself Maurice Questing and staying at the local Spa, has formed the habit of leaving the house after dark. To my positive knowledge, he ascends the mountain known as Rangi's Peak, which is part of the native reserve and the western face of which looks out to sea. I have myself witnessed on several occasions a light flashing on the slopes of this face. You will note that Hippolyte was torpedoed at a spot some two miles out from Harpoon Inlet. I have also to report that on being questioned as to his movements, Mr. Questing has returned evasive and even lying answers. I conceived it my duty to report this matter to the local police authorities, who displayed a somnolence so profound as to be pathological. I have the honour to be, Yours faithfully, james ackrington, m.d., f.r.c.s., f.r.c.p. 10 The servant brought the drink. Dr. Ackrington accused him of having substituted an inferior brand of whisky for the one ordered, but he did this with an air of routine rather than of rage. He accepted the servant's resigned assurances with surprising mildness, merely remarking that Mie whisky had probably been adulterated jby the makers. He then finished his drink, ^clapped his hat on the side of his head and "went out to post his letters. The hall porter ^pulled open the door. ? ecWar news a bit brighter this morning, jlir," said the porter tentatively. ^i "The sooner we're all dead, the better,3' |Pr. Ackrington replied cheerfully. He gave sa falsetto barking noise, and limped quickly adfown the steps. Si ^cWas that a joke?" said the hall porter %o the servant. The servant turned up his ityes. :,fil » II . 'Colonel and Mrs. Claire had lived for Ifwelve years at Wai-ata-tapu Springs. Whey had come to New Zealand from India ^When their daughter Barbara, born ten «Nars after their marriage, was thirteen, 11 and their son Simon, nine years old. They had told their friends in gentle voices that they wanted to get away from the conventions of retired army life in England. They had spoken blithely, for they took an uncritical delight in such phrases, of wide-open spaces and of a small inheritance that had come to the Colonel. With most of this inheritance they had built the boarding house they now lived in. The remaining sums had been quietly lost in a series of timid speculations. They had worked like slaves, receiving good advice with well bred resentment and bad advice with touching gratitude. Beside these failings, they had a positive genius for collecting impossible people, and at the time when this tale opens were at the mercy of a certain incubus called Herbert Smith. On the retirement of her distinguished and irascible brother from practice in London, Mrs. Claire had invited him to join them. He had consented to do so only as a paying guest, as he wished to enjoy complete freedom for making criticisms and complaints, an exercise he indulged with particular energy, especially in regard 12 to his nephew Simon. His niece Barbara Claire had from the first done the work of two servants and, because she went out so little, retained the sort of English vicarage garden atmosphere that emanated from her mother. Simon, on the contrary, had attended the Harpoon State schools and, influenced on the one hand by the persistent family attitude of poor but proud gentility and on the other by his schoolfellows' suspicion of "pommy" settlers, had feecome truculently colonial, somewhat introverted and defiantly uncouth. A year ^before the outbreak of war he left school, and now was taking the preliminary Air ^Force training at home. On the morning of Dr. Ackrington's visit |» Harpoon, the Claires pursued their porrnal occupations. At midday Colonel *J21aire took his lumbago to the radioactivity of the mud pool, Mrs. Claire isteeped her sciatica in a hot spring, Simon went into his cabin to practise Morse code, land Barbara cooked the midday meal in a liot and primitive kitchen with Huia, the Maori help, in attendance. pc "You can dish up, Huia," said Barbara. rShe brushed the locks of damp hair from 13 her eyes with the back of her forearm. "I'm afraid I seem to have used a lot of dishes. There'll be six in the dining-room. Mr. Questing's out for lunch." "Good job," said Huia skittishly. Barbara pretended not to hear. Huia, moving with the half-languid, half-vigorous grace of the young Maori, smiled brilliantly, and began to pile stacks of plates on a tray. "He's no good," she said softly. Barbara glanced at her. Huia laughed richly, lifting her short upper lip. "I shall never understand them," Barbara thought. Aloud she said: "Mightn't it be better if you just pretended not to hear when Mr. Questing starts those -- starts being -- starts teasing you ?" "He makes me very angry," said Huia, and suddenly she became childishly angry, flashing her eyes and stamping her foot. "Silly ass," she said. "But you're not really angry." Huia looked out of the corners of her eyes at Barbara, pulled an equivocal grimace, and tittered. "Don't forget your cap and apron," said Barbara, and left the sweltering kitchen for the dining-room. 14 4Wai-ata-tapu Hostel was a one-storied ^ooden building shaped like an E with the Itoiddle stroke missing. The dining-room Occupied the centre of the long section feparating the kitchen and serveries from the boarders' bedrooms, which extended :«P'l ; Iflto the east wing. The west wing, private .$p. the Claires, was a series of cramped fabins and a tiny sitting-room. The house Jtad been designed by Colonel Claire on ^pay-hut lines, with an additional flavour Jpo sanatorium. There were no passages, jjjpi all the rooms opened on a partially g^yered-in verandah. The inside walls were owish-red oiled wood. The house t faintly of linseed oil and positively of phur. An observant visitor might have :d in it the history of the Claires' iture. The framed London Board-of de posters, the chairs and tables painted, very capably, in primary colours, the ces in careful script, the archly re chful rhyme sheets in bathrooms and :ories, all spoke of high beginnings, en passe-partout^ chipped paint, and lown papers hanging by single drawing traced unmistakably a gradual but arable decline. The house was clean 15 but unexpectedly so, tidy but not orderly, and only vaguely uncomfortable. The front wall of the dining-room was built of glass panels designed to slide in grooves, but devilishly inclined to jam. These looked across the verandah to the hot springs themselves. Barbara stood for a moment at one of the open windows and stared absently at a freakish landscape. Hills smudged with scrub were ranked against a heavy sky. Beyond them, across the hidden inlet, but tall enough to dominate the scene, rose the truncated cone of Rangi's Peak, an extinct volcano so characteristically shaped that it might have been placed in the landscape by a modern artist with a passion for simplified form. Though some eight miles away, it was actually clearer than the nearby hills, for their margins, dark and firm, were broken at intervals by plumes of steam that rose perpendicularly from the eight thermal pools. These lay close at hand, just beyond the earth-and-pumice sweep in front of the house. Five of them were hot springs hidden from the windows by fences of manuka scrub. The sixth was enclosed by a rough bath shed. The 16 §eventh was almost a lake over whose dark iters wraiths of steam vaguely drifted. ic eighth was a mud pool, not hot enough l^give off steam, and dark in colour with a id of iridescence across its surface. This >1 was only half-screened and from its end protruded a naked pink head on of a long neck. Barbara went out to the randah, seized a brass schoolroom bell, rang it vigorously. The pink head led slowly through the mud like some jtic periscope until it disappeared id the screen. fLunch, Father," screamed Barbara un jsarily. She walked across the sweep entered the enclosure. On a brush that screened the first path hung a ither-worn placard: 'The Elfin Pool, iged." The Claires had given each of >ols some amazingly insipid title, and |bara had neatly executed the placards * )ker work. ^Are you there, Mummy ?" asked Bar *a. *Come in, my dear.35 >he walked round the screen and found mother at her feet, submerged up to shoulders in bright blue steaming i? water that quite hid her plump body. Over her fuzz of hair Mrs. Claire wore a rubber bag with a frilled edge and she had spectacles on her nose. With her right hand she held above the water a shilling edition of Cranford. "So charming" she said. "They are all such dears. I never tire of them." "Lunch is nearly in.3' "I must pop out. The Elf is really wonderful, Ba. My tiresome arm is quite cleared up." "I'm so glad, Mummy/3 said Barbara in a loud voice. "I want to ask you something. 33 "What is it ?33 said Mrs. Claire, turning a page with her thumb. "Do you like Mr. Questing ?33 Mrs. Claire looked up over the top of her book. Barbara was standing at a curious angle, balanced on her right leg. Her left foot was hooked round her right ankle. "Dear,33 said Mrs. Claire, "don't stand like that. It pushes all the wrong things out and tucks the right ones in.33 "But do you ?33 Barbara persisted, changing her posture with a jerk. 18 if Well, he's not out of the top drawer of se, poor thing.33 fl don't mind about that. And anyway iat is the top drawer ? It's a maddening of way to classify people. Such cheek! sorry, Mummy, I didn't mean to be le. But honestly, for us to talk about js!33 Barbara gave a loud hoot of iter. "Look at us !33 she said. Lrs. Claire edged modestly towards the of the pool and thrust her book at her iter. Stronger waves of sulphurous is rose from the disturbed waters. A ide of drops fell from the elderly ided arm. ^ake Cranford" she said. Barbara took Claire pulled her rubber bag a closer about her ears. "My dear,33 she pitching her voice on a note that she ly reserved for death, "aren't you ig up money and breeding ? It doesn't ir what one does surely . . .33 She "There is an innate something I she began. "One can always tell,33 she one ? Look at Simon.33 tear old Simon,33 said her mother ichfully. 19 "Yes, I know. I'm very fond of him. I couldn't have a kinder brother, but there isn't much innate something about Simon, is there ?" "It's only that awful accent. If we could have afforded..." "There you are, you see," cried Barbara, and she went on in a great hurry, shooting out her words as if she fired them from a gun that was too big for her. "Class consciousness is all my eye. Fundamentally it's based on money." On the verandah the bell was rung again with some abandon. "I must pop out," said Mrs. Claire. "That's Huia ringing." "It's not because he talks a different language or any of those things," said Barbara hurriedly, "that I don't like Mr. Questing. I don't like him. And I don't like the way he behaves with Huia. Or," she added under her breath, "with me." "I expect," said Mrs. Claire, "that's only because he used to be a commercial traveller. It's just his way." ."Mummy, why do you find excuses for him ? Why does Daddy, who would ordinarily loathe Mr. Questing, put up with 20 Him? He even laughs at his awful jokes, isn't because we want his board money, how Daddy and Uncle James pracly froze out those rich Americans who ag^pre very nice, I thought." Barbara drove long fingers through her mouse floured hair, and avoiding her mother's stared at the top of Rangi's Peak, fou'd think Mr. Questing had a sort of on us/' she said, and then burst into of her fits of nervous laughter. Jarbie darling," said her mother, on a that contrived to suggest the menace >me frightful indelicacy, "I think we I't talk about in any more." Incle James hates him, anyway." Barbara!" Ainch, Agnes," said a quiet voice on i>ther side of the fence. "You're late » >rning, dear. Please go on ahead with iy, Barbara," said Mrs. Claire. Ill Ickrington bucketed his car down the and pulled up at the verandah with ige jolt just as Barbara reached it. tited for him and took his arm. 21 "Stop it," he said, "You'll give me hell if you hurry me." But when she made to draw away he held her arm in a wiry grasp. "Is the leg bad, Uncle James ?" "It's a]ways bad. Steady now." "Did you have your morning soak in the Porridge Pot ?" "I did not. And do you know why ? That damned poisonous little bounder was wallowing in it." "He never washes," Dr. Ackrington shouted. "I'll swear he never washes. Why the devil you can't insist on people taking the shower before they use the pools is a mystery. He soaks his sweat off in my mud." "Are you sure... ?" "Certain. Certain. Certain. I've watched him. He never goes near the shower. How in the name of common decency your parents can stomach him..." "That's just what I've been asking Mummy." Dr. Ackrington halted and stared at his niece. An observer might have been struck by their resemblance to each other. Barbara was much more like her uncle than her mother, yet while he, in a red-headed edgy 22 sort of way, was remarkably handsome, she contrived to present as good a profile without its accompaniment of distinction. Nobody noticed Barbara's physical assets; her defects were inescapable. Her hair, her clothes, her incoherent gestures, her strangely untutored mannerisms, all combined against her looks and discounted them. She and her uncle stared at each j other in silence for some seconds. * "Oh," said Dr. Ackrington at last. "And I what did your mother say ?" I Barbara pulled a clown's grimace. "She improved me," she said in sepulchral serio %omedy voice. "Well, don't make faces at me," snapped «r uncle. A window in the Claires' wing was own open, and between the curtains pe appeared a vague pink face garnished rth a faded moustache, and topped by a tch of white hair. cHullo, James," said the face crossly, unch. What's your mother doing, Ba? ere's Simon ?" cShe's coming, Daddy. We're all coming. I" screamed Barbara. Mrs. Claire, enveloped in a dark red 23 mi -~" ..AfS^^^^Stf ; flannel dressing-gown, came panting up from the pools, and hurried into the house. "Aren't we going to have any lunch?" Colonel Claire asked bitterly. "Of course we are," said Barbara. "Why don't you begin, Daddy, if you're in such a hurry ? Come on, Uncle James." As they went indoors, a young man came round the house and slouched in behind them. He was tall, big-boned, and sandy haired, with a jutting underlip. "Hullo, Sim," said Barbara. "Lunch." "Righto." "How's the Morse code this morning ?" "Going good," said Simon. Dr. Ackrington instantly turned on him. "Is there any creditable reason why you should not say 'going well' ?" he demanded. "Huh!" said Simon. He trailed behind them into the dining room and they took their places at a long table where Colonel Claire was already seated. c*We won't wait for your mother," said Colonel Claire, folding his hands over his abdomen. "For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful. Huia!" 24 Hes. 7hank you. I shall have ham." |*What the devil are you driving at, ies?" asked Colonel Claire, irritably. talk in riddles. What do you want ?" *I want grilled steak. If it is already ted it will not be grilled steak. It will be leather. You can't get a bit of grilled in the length and breadth of this itry." 3? «i clf I ask for steak," said Dr. Ackrington, lUll it be cooked..." roll don't want to eat raw steak, Uncle, K>u ?" said Barbara. ,et me finish. If I order steak, will it be ced or tanned ? Will it resemble steak or uia came in wearing cap, crackling apron, and stiff curls. She looked like a flolynesian goddess who had assumed, on a $him, some barbaric disguise. 4» "Would you like cold ham, cold mutton, ec grilled steak ?" she asked, and her voice was as cool and deep as her native forests. As.an afterthought she handed Barbara a u. i« freak," said Huia, musically, [s it cooked ?" 25 Huia looked politely and inquiringly at Barbara. "Grill Dr. Ackrington a fresh piece of steak, please, Huia." ^Dr. Ackrington shook his finger at Huia. "Five minutes," he shouted. ccFive minutes! A second longer and it's uneatable. Mind that!" Huia smiled. "And while she's cooking it I have a letter to read to you," he added importantly. Mrs. Claire came in. She looked as if she had just returned from a round of charitable visits in an English village. The Claires ordered their lunches and Dr. Ackrington took out the letter from Dr. Forster. "This concerns all of you," he announced. "Where's Smith?" demanded Colonel Claire suddenly, opening his eyes very wide. His wife and children looked vaguely round the room. "Did anyone call him?" asked Mrs. Claire. "Don't mind Smith, now," said Dr. Ackrington. "He's not here and he won't be here. I passed him in Harpoon. He was turning in at a pub and by the look of him it was not the first by two or three. Don't mind him. He's better away." "He got a cheque from Home yester 26 day," said Simon, in his strong New Zealand dialect. "Boy, oh boy!" |c "Don't speak like that, dear," said his pother. "Poor Mr. Smith, it's such a liliame. He's a dear fellow at bottom." ^ "Will you allow me to read this letter, or 'jfSUl you not ?" 'jjjfe"Do read it, dear. Is it from Home ?" ':Dr. Ackrington struck the table angrily the flat of his hand. His sister leant in her chair, Colonel Claire stared out mgh the windows, and Simon and rbara, after the first two sentences, ied eagerly. When he had finished the ler, which he read in a rapid uninflected sr. Dr. Ackrington dropped it on the le and looked about him with an air of )lacency. rbara whistled. "I say>" she said -- )ffrey Gaunt! I say." fAnd a servant. And a secretary. I don't know what to say, James/' Mrs. ce murmured. "I'm quite bewildered. ly don't think... ^e can't take on a chap like that," said ion loudly. lAnd why not, pray?" his uncle de ided. 27 "He'll be no good to us and we'd be no good to him. He'll be used to posh hotels and slinging his weight about with a lot of English servants. What'd we do with a secretary and a man-servant? What's he do with them anyway?" Simon went on with an extraordinary air of hostility. "Is he feeble-minded or what ?" "Feeble-minded!" cried Barbara. "He's probably the greatest living actor." ccWell, he can have it for mine," said Simon. "For the love of heaven, Agnes, can't you teach your son an intelligent form of speech ?" "If the way I talk isn't good enough for you, Uncle James..." "For pity's sake let's stick to the point," Barbara cried. "I'm for having Mr. Gaunt and his staff, Sim's against it, Mother's hovering. You're for it, Uncle, I suppose." "I fondly imagined that three resident patients might be of some assistance to the exchequer. What does your father say?" He turned to Colonel Claire. "What do you say, Edward ?" "Eh?" Colonel Claire opened his eyes and mouth and raised his eyebrows in a 28 startled manner. "Is it about that paper you've got in your hand ? I wasn't listening. Read it again." a, "Great God Almighty /" i. "Your steak,3' said Huia, and placed f before Dr. Ackrington a strip of ghastly pale and bloated meat from which blood jifioursed freely over the plate, is During the lively scene which followed, JJarbara hooted with frightened laughter, Hirs. Claire murmured conciliatory phrases, ifiiinon shuffled his feet, and Huia in turn >k her head angrily, giggled, and uttered apologies. Finally she burst into tears lid ran back with the steak to the kitchen, :re a crash of breaking crockery sug sted that she had hurled the dish to the >r. Colonel Claire, after staring in sur at his brother-in-law for a few >nds, quietly took up Dr. Forster's ;r and began to read it. This he con icd to do until Dr. Ackrington had been led with a helping of cold meat. 10 is this Geoffrey Gaunt?" asked Miel Claire after a long silence. ^Daddy I You must know. You saw him jfane Eyre last time we went to the ires in Harpoon. He's wildly famous. * 29 35 Barbara paused with her left cheek bulging. "He was exactly my idea of Mr. Rochester," she said ardently. "Theatrical!" said her father distastefully. "We don't want that sort." "Just what I say," Simon agreed. "I'm afraid," said Mrs. Claire, "that Mr. Gaunt would find us very humdrum sort of folk. Don't you think we'd better just keep to our own quiet ways, dear ?" "Mummy, you are ..." Barbara began. Her uncle, speaking with a calm that was really terrifying, interrupted her. "I haven't the smallest doubt, my dear Agnes," he said, "that Gaunt, who is possibly a man of some enterprise and intelligence, would find your quiet ways more than humdrum, as you complacently choose to describe them. I ventured to suggest in my reply to Forster that Gaunt would find few of the amenities and a good deal of comparative discomfort at Waiatatapu. I added something to the effect that I hoped lack of luxury would be compensated for by kindness and by consideration for a man who is unwell. Apparently I was mistaken. I also fancied that, having gone to considerable expense in building a Spa, 30 your object was to acquire a clientele. Again, I was mistaken. You prefer to rest *mi your laurels with an alcoholic who S^ ' J ^oesn't pay his way, and a bounder whom jj^ibr one, regard as a person better suited If ^confinement in an internment camp." ^Colonel Claire said: "Are you talking fjbout Questing, James ?" |§flam." IjifWell, I wish you wouldn't." lir^May I ask why ?" l^olonel Claire laid his knife and fork er, turned scarlet in the face and ;ed fixedly at the opposite wall. Because," he said, "I am under an jationtohim." fThere was a long silence. see," said Dr. Ackrington at last. I haven't said anything about it to ;s and the children. I suppose I'm old ioned. In my view a man doesn't speak mch matters to his family. But you, Ipes, and you two children have shown so ^"tedly your dislike of Mr. Questing that forced to tell you that I -- I cannot d -- I must ask you for my sake to him more consideration." roll can't afford . . . ?" Dr. Ackrington 3i repeated. "Good God, my dear fellow, what have you been up to ?" "Please, James, I hope I need say no more." With an air of martyrdom Colonel Claire rose and moved over to the windows. Mrs. Claire made a movement to follow him, but he said, "No, Agnes," and she stopped at once. "On second thoughts/5 added Colonel Claire, "I believe we should reconsider our decision about taking these people as guests. I -- Pll speak to Questing about it. Please let the subject drop for the moment." He walked out on to the verandah and past the windows, holding himself very straight and, still extremely red in the face, disappeared. "Of all the damned astounding how d'ye-do's ..." Dr. Ackrington began. "Oh, James, don't," cried Mrs. Claire, and burst into tears. IV Huia slapped the last plate in the rack, swilled out the sink and turned her back on a moderately tidy kitchen. She lived with her family at a native settlement on the other side of the hill and, as it was her after32 noon off, proposed to return there in order ip change into her best dress. She walked round the house, crossed the pumice Jweep, and set off along a path that skirted the warm lake, rounded the foot of Waiatatapu Hill, and crossed a native thermal l^erve that lay in the far side. The sky was {girereast and the air oppressively warm and . Huia moved with a leisurely stride, seemed to be a part of the landscape, ipounded of the same dark medium, Descent as the earth under the dominion the sky. White men move across the face of New Zealand, but the Maori )ple are of its essence, tranquil or irbed as the trees and lakes must /and as much a member of the earth as * * - [uia's path took her through a patch of imanuka scrub and here she came upon )ung man Eru Saul a half-caste. He >ed out of the bushes and waited for | the stump of a cigarette hanging from "ips. 'iHu!» said Huia. "You. What you It?" Jit's your day off, isn't it ? Come for a 33 "Too busy," said Huia briefly. She moved forward. He checked her, holding her by the arms. "No/' he said. "Shut up." "I want to talk to you." "What about? Same old thing all the time. Talk, talk, talk. You make me tired." "You know what. Give us a kiss." Huia laughed and rolled her eyes. "You're mad. Behave yourself. Mrs. Claire will go crook if you hang about. I'm going home." "Come on/' he muttered, and flung his arms about her. She fought him off, laughing angrily, and he began to upbraid her. "I'm not posh enough. Going with a pakeha now, aren't you ? That's right, isn't it?" "Don't you talk to me like that. You're no good. You're a no-good boy.3' "I haven't got a car and I'm not a thief. Questing's a ruddy thief." "That's a big lie," said Huia blandly. "He's all right." "What's he doing at night on the Peak ? He's got no business on the Peak." "Talk, talk, talk. All the time." 34 "|^Kid-stakes! Nobody's going to put a on me." b%4 *My great-grandfather can do it," said lia and her eyes flashed, jsten, Huia," said Eru. "You think ran get away with dynamite. O.K. But *t come at it with me. And another ig. Next time this joker Questing wants ive you on to go driving, you can tell from me to lay off. See? Tell him me, no kidding, that if he tries any funny stuff, it'll be the stone end of |rips up the Peak." "~*ell him yourself," said Huia. She IM, in dog Maori, an extremely pointed It, and taking him off his guard slipped |t him and ran round the hill. U& stood looking at the ground. His 35 You tell him if he doesn't look out he'll be in for it. How'11 you like it if he gets packed up ?" ing to like him." He had never found >n to revise this first impression. WGaunt read Dr. Forster's note and then Ackrington's letter. "For heaven's ec," he cried, "what sort on an antic is old person ? Have you noted the acid rtment of his relations ? Does he call this a recommendation ? Discomfort leav with inefficient kindness is the bait he srs. Moreover, there's a dirty little knock !me in the last paragraph. If Forster its me to endure the place, one would ft thought his policy would have been ippress the letter. He's a poor psychol 3) Tie psychology," said Dikon modestly, mine. Forster wanted to suppress the 4i letter. I took it upon myself to show it to you. I thought that if you jibbed at the Claires, sir, you wouldn't be able to resist Dr. Ackrington." Gaunt shot a suspicious glance at his secretary. "You're too clever by half, my friend," he said. "And he does say," Dikon added persuasively, "he does say 'the mud may be miraculous'." Gaunt laughed, made an abrupt movement, and drew in his breath sharply. "Isn't it worth enduring the place if it puts your leg right, sir? And at least we could get on with the book." "Certain it is I can't write in this bloody hotel. How I hate hotels. Dikon," cried Gaunt with an assumption of boyish enthusiasm, "shall we fly to America? Shall we do Henry Vth in New York? They'd take it, you know, just now. 'And Crispin, Crispian shall ne'er go by . . .' God, I think I must play Henry in New York." "Wouldn't you rather play him in London, sir, on a fit-up stage with the blitz for battle noises off ? " "Of course I would, damn you." 42 "Why not try this place ? At least it may turn out to be copy for the Life. Thermal divertissements. And then, when you're fit and ready to hit 'em... London." "You talk like a Nanny in her dotage/5 said Gaunt fretfully. "I suppose you and Colly have plotted this frightfulness between you. Where is Colly ?" "Ironing your trousers, sir." "Tell him to come here." Dikon spoke on the telephone and in a moment the door opened to admit a wisp of a man with a face that resembled a wrinkled kid glove. This was Gaunt's dresser and personal servant, Alfred Colly. Colly had been the dresser provided by the management when Gaunt, a promising young leading man with no social background, had made his first great success. After a phenomenal run, Colly accepted Gaunt's offer of permanent employment, but had never adopted the technique of a man-servant. His attitude towards his employer held the balance between extreme familiarity and a cheerful recognition of Gaunt's prestige. He laid the trousers that he carried over the back of a chair, folded his hands and blinked. 43 "You've heard all about this damned hot spot, no doubt ?" said Gaunt." "That's right, sir," said Colly. "Going to turn mudlarks, aren't we ?" "I haven't said so.5' "It's about time we did something about ourself though, isn't it, sir? We're not sleeping as pretty as we'd like, are we? And how about our leg ?" "Oh, you go to hell," said Gaunt. "There's a gentleman downstairs, sir, wants to see you. Come in over an hour ago. They told him in the office you were seeing nobody and he said that's all right and give in his card. They say it's no use, you only see visitors by appointment, and he comes back with that's just too bad and sits in the lounge with a Scotch-and-soda, reading the paper and watching the door." "That won't do him much good," said Dikon. "Mr. Gaunt's not going out. The masseur will be here in half an hour. What's this man look like ? Pressman ?" "Noue!" said Colly, with the cockney's singular emphasis. "More like business. Hard. Smooth worsted suiting. Go-getter type. I was thinking you might like to see him, Mr. Bell." 44 "Why ?" "I was thinking you might. Satisfy him." Dikon looked fixedly at Colly and saw \the faintest vibration of his left eyelid. if "Perhaps I'd better get rid of him," he said. "Did they give you his card ?" ]* Golly dipped his finger and thumb in a i pocket of his black alpaca coat. "Persistent sort of bloke, sir," he said, and fished out * a card. *J "Oh, get rid of him, Dikon, for God's iiitke," said Gaunt. "You know all the lifeswers. I won't leer out of advertisements, jjjjpwon't open fetes, I won't attend amateur ductions, I'm accepting no invitations, think New Zealand's marvellous. I wish was in London. If it's anything to do with .e war effort, reserve your answer. If they t me to do something for the troops, I 11 if I can." ikon went down to the lounge. In the he looked at the visitor's card. mr. maurice questing Wai-ata-tapu Thermal Springs Jcribbled across the bottom he read: "May ive five minutes ? Matter of interest to rself. M. Q." 45 II Mr. Maurice Questing was about fifty years old and so much a type that a casual observer would have found it difficult to describe him. He might have been any one of a group of heavy men playing cards on a rug in the first-class carriage of a train. He appeared in triplicate at private bars, hotel lounges, business meetings and race courses. His features were blurred and thick, his eyes sharp. His clothes always looked expensive and new. His speech, both in accent and in choice of words, was an affair of mass production rather than selection. It suggested that wherever he went he would instinctively adopt the cheapest, the slickest, and the most popular commercial phrases of the community in which he found himself. Yet though he was as voluble as a radio advertiser, shooting out his machine-turned phrases in a loud voice, and with a great air of assurance, every word he uttered seemed synthetic and quite unrelated to his thoughts. His conversation was full of the near-Americanisms that are part of the New Zealand dialect, but they, too, sounded dubious, and 46 .'.% was impossible to guess at his place of pgigin though he sometimes spoke of him vaguely as a native of New South Tales. He was a successful man of busiJBS- lichen Dikon Bell walked into the hotel jby, Mr. Questing at once flung down paper and rose to his feet. Jardon me if I speak in error," he said, it is this Mr. Bell ?" lEr, yes," said Dikon, who still held the in his fingers. !Mr. Gaunt's private secretary ?" m :es. liat's great," said Mr. Questing, shak hands ruthlessly, and breaking into iter. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Bell. I know you're a busy man, but |be very very happy if you could spare ive minutes." 'ell, I..." "hat's fine," said Mr. Questing, jama flat pale thumb against a bell-push, it work! Sit down.'3 «m sat sedately on a small chair, ;d his legs, joined his hands, and id attentively over his glasses at Mr. iting. 47 «1 'How's the Big Man?" Mr. Questing asked. "Mr. Gaunt ? Not very well, I'm afraid." "So I understand. So I understand. Well, now, Mr. Bell, I had hoped for a word with him, but I've got an idea that a little chat with you will be very satisfactory. What'll you have ?" Dikon refused a drink. Mr. Questing ordered whisky-and-soda. "Yes," said Mr. Questing with a heartiness that suggested a complete understanding between them. "Yes. That's fine. Well now, Mr. Bell, I'm going to tell you, flat out, that I think I'm in a position to help you. Now!" "I see," said Dikon, "that you come from Wai-ata-tapu Springs." "That is the case. Yes. Yes, I'm going to be quite frank with you, Mr. Bell. I'm going to tell you that not only do I come from the Springs, but I've got a very considerable interest in the Springs." "Do you mean that you own the place ? I thought a Colonel and Mrs. Claire ..." "Well, now, Mr. Bell, shall we just take things as they come ? I'm going to bring you right into my confidence about the Springs The Springs mean a lot to me." 48 -, "Financially ?" asked Dikon mildly. fTherapeutically ? Or sentimentally ?" ii". Mr. Questing, who had looked restlessly IpDikon's tie, shoes and hands, now took Ijllurtive glance at his face. ^ "Don't make it too hot," he said merrily. IpWith a rapid movement suggestive of Jlteight-of^hand he produced from an inner Set a sheaf of pamphlets which he laid fore Dikon. "Read these at your leisure. I suggest that you bring them to Mr. it's notice ?" Look here, Mr. Questing," said Dikon ly, "would you mind, awfully, if we .e to the point? You've evidently dis :red that we've heard about this place, 'we come to recommend it. That's very of you, but I gather your motive isn't iy altruistic. You've spoken of frank so perhaps you won't object to my .g again if you've a financial interest in atatapu." Questing laughed uproariously and that he saw they understood each . His conversation became thick with and evasions. After a minute or two saw that he himself was being offered sort of inducement. Mr. Questing 49 told him repeatedly that he would be looked after, that he would have every cause for personal gratification if Geoffrey Gaunt decided to take the cure. It was not by any means the first scene of its kind. Dikon was mildly entertained, and, while he listened to Mr. Questing, turned over the pamphlets. The medical recommendations seemed very good. A set of rooms -- Mr. Questing called it a suite -- would be theirs. Mr. Questing would see to it that the rooms were refurnished. Dikon's eyebrows went up, and Mr. Questing, becoming very confidential, said that he believed in doing things in a big way. He was not, he said, going to pretend that he didn't recognise the value of such a guest to the Springs. Dikon distrusted him more with every phrase he uttered, but he began to think that if such enormous efforts were to be made, Gaunt should' be tolerably comfortable at Wai-ata-tapu. He put out a feeler. "I understand,3' he said, "that there is a resident doctor/5 He was surprised to see Mr. Questing change colour. "Dr. Tonks," Questing said, "doesn't actually reside at the Springs, 50 Jfelr. Bell. He's at Harpoon. Only a few .utes by road. A very, very fine doctor." "I mean Dr. James Ackrington." Mr. Questing did not answer immedi y. He offered Dikon a cigarette, lit one self and rang the bell again. IPDr. Ackrington,55 Dikon repeated. rccOh, yes. Ye-es. The old doctor. Quite acter." "Doesn't he live at the hostel ?" ^That is correct. Yes. That is the case, old doctor's retired now, I under d." e's something of an authority on cular and nervous complaints, isn't m » 35 'Is that so ?" said Mr. Questing. "Well, well. The old doctor, eh? Quite a racter. Well, now, Mr. Bell, I've a little jestion to make. Fve been wondering >u'd be interested in a wee trip to the ». I'm driving back there tomorrow. a six hours' run and I'd be very very ited to take you with me. Of course suite won't be poshed up by then. You'll is in the raw, sir, but any suggestions icared to make..." >o you live there, Mr. Questing ?M 5i "You can't keep me away from the Springs for long/3 cried Mr. Questing evasively. "Now about this suggestion of mine... "It's very kind of you/' said Dikon thoughtfully. He rose to his feet and held out his hand. "I'll tell Mr. Gaunt about it. Thank you so much." Mr. Questing wrung his hand excruciatingly. "Good-bye/5 said Dikon politely. "I'm staying here tonight, Mr. Bell, and I'll be right on the spot if..." "Oh, yes. Perfectly splendid. Goodbye." He returned to his employer. Ill Late on the afternoon of Saturday the eighteenth, old Rua Te Kahu sat on the crest of a hill that rose in an unbroken curve above his native village. The hill formed a natural barrier between the Maori reserve lands and the thermal resort of Wai-ata-tapu Springs where the Claires lived. From where he sat Rua looked down to his right upon the sulphur-corroded roof of the Claires' house, and to his left upon the smaller hip-roofs of his own people's 52 dwelling houses and shacks. From each ilide of the hill rose plumes of steam, for ie native pa was built near its own thermal >ls. Rua, therefore, sat in a place that ie him well. Behind his head, and ftened by wreaths of steam, was the ipe of Rangi's Peak. At his feet, in the ISftrm friable soil, grew manuka scrub. I He was an extremely old man, exactly iw old he did not choose to say; but his ler, a chief of the Te Rarawa tribe, had his mark to the Treaty of Waitangi, not ly years before Rua, his youngest Id, was born. Rua's grandfather, Rewi, iehieftain and a cannibal, was a neolithic To find his European counterpart, would look back beyond the dawn of isation. Rua himself had witnessed full impact of the white man's ways a people living in a stone age. He had turn been warrior, editor of a native spaper, and member of Parliament. In extreme age he had sloughed his Euro habits and returned to his own sub and to a way of life that was an echo rminor key of his earliest youth. ^My great-great-grandfather is a hun bragged little Hoani Smith at the 53 33 Harpoon primary school. "He is the oldest man in New Zealand. He is nearly as old as God. Hu /" Rua was dressed in a shabby suit. About his shoulders he wore a blanket, for nowadays he felt the cold. Sartorially he was rather disreputable, but for all that he had about him an air of greatness. His head was magnificent, long and shapely. His nose was a formidable beak, his lips thin and uncompromising. His eyes still held their brilliance. He was a patrician, and looked down the long lines of his ancestry until they met in one of the canoes of the first Polynesian sea rovers. One would have said that his descent must have been free from the coarsening of Melanesian blood. But for his colour, a light brown, he looked for all the world like a Jacobite patriot's notion of a Highland chieftain. Every evening he climbed to the top of the hill and smoked a pipe, beginning his slow ascent an hour before sunset. Sometimes one of his grandchildren, or an old crony of his own clan, would go ,up with him, but more often he sat there alone, lost, as it seemed, in a long perspective of 54 recollections. The Claires, down at the § $prings, would glance up and see him Appearing larger than human against the |ky and very still. Or Huia, sitting on the behind the house when she should IJhave been scrubbing potatoes, would wave "to him and send him a long-drawn-out cry of greeting in his own tongue. She was one of his many great-great-grandchildren. This evening he found much to interest him down at the Springs. A covered van had turned in from the main road and had lurched and skidded down the track which the Claires called their drive, until it pulled up at their front door. Excited noises came from inside the house. Old Rua heard his great-great-granddaughter's voice and Miss Barbara Claire's unmelodious laughter. There were bumping sounds. A large car pounds me down the track and pulled up at the ifdge of the sweep. Mr. Maurice Questing ;ot out of it followed by a younger man. ua leant forward a little, grasped the head 'f his stick firmly and rested his chin on knotted hands. He seemed rooted in the top, and part of its texture. After a long tuse he heard a sound for which his ears d inherited an acute awareness. Someone 55 was coming up the track behind him. The dry scrub brushed against approaching legs. In a moment or two a man stood beside him on the hilltop. "Good-evening, Mr. Smith," said old Rua without turning his head. "G'day, Rua." The man lurched forward and squatted beside Te Kahu. He was a European, but his easy adoption of this native posture suggested a familiarity with the ways of the Maori people. He was thin, and baldish. His long jaw was ill-shaved. His skin hung loosely from the bones of his face and was unwholesome in colour. There was an air of ramshness about him. His clothes were seedy. Over them he wore a raincoat that was dragged out of shape by a bottle in an inner pocket. He began to make a cigarette, and his fingers, deeply stained with nicotine, were unsteady. He smelt very strongly of stale spirits. "Great doings down at the Springs," he said. "They seem to be busy," said Rua tranquilly. "Haven't you heard ? They've got a big pot coming to stay. That's his secretary, that 56 ig chap that's just come. You'd think is royalty. They've been making it solid for everybody down there, ig everything out and shifting us all id. I got sick of it and sloped off." distinguished guest should be given Ing welcome." [e's only an actor." Geoffrey Gaunt. He is a man of ^distinction." you know all about it, do you ?" so," said old Rua. dth licked his cigarette and hung it ie corner of his mouth, icsting's at the back of it," he said, rred slightly. "He's kidded this the mud'll fix his leg for him. He's ;*>ver himself polishing the old dump feu ought to see the furniture, ig!" added Smith viciously. "By I'd like to see that joker get what's ; to him." >ectedly Rua gave a subterranean ie. )k!" Smith said. "He's got some leoming to him all right, that joker. |ld doctor's got it in for him, and so's ly but Claire. I reckon Claire's not 57 so keen, either, but Questing's put him where he just can't squeal. That's what I reckon." He lit a cigarette and looked out of the corners of his eyes at Rua. "You don't say much," he said. His hand moved shakily over the bulge in his mackintosh. ecLike a spot ?" he asked. w bumping noises still continued. The now behind Rangi's Peak, testing's got a great little game on," it Smith. "He's going round your lot talking about teams of poi girls Is diving for pennies, and all the rest iHe's offering big money. He says he ft see why the Arawas down at should be the only tribe to profit tourist racket." got slowly to his feet. He turned ifrom the Springs side of the hill to the looked down into his own hamlet, in shadow. \y people are well contented," he said, not Arawas. We go our own way." another thing. He's been talking ihaving curios for sale. He's been round. Asking about old times. Over Peak." Smith's voice slid into an lin key. He went on with an air of sness. "Someone's told him about Is axe," he said. turned, and for the first time looked his companion, it's not so good, is it ?" said Smith. 59 «T "My grandfather Rewi," Rua said, "was a man of prestige. His axe was dedicated to the god Tane and was named after him, Toki-poutangata-o-Tane. It was sacred. Its burial place, also, is sacred and secret." Questing reckons it's somewhere on the Peak. He reckons there's a lot of stuff over on the Peak that might be exploited. He's talking about half-day trips to see the places of interest, with one of your people to act as guide and tell the tale." "The Peak is a native reserve." "He reckons he could square that up all right." "I am an old man," said Rua affably, "but I am not yet dead. He will not find any guides among my people." "Won't he! You ask Eru Saul. He knows what Questing's after." "Eru is not a satisfactory youth. He is a badpakeha Maori." "Eru doesn't like the way Questing plays up to young Huia. He reckons Questing is kidding her to find guides for him." "He will not find guides," Rua repeated. "Money talks, you know." "So will the tapu of my grandfather's tokipoutangata." 60 y^mith looked curiously at the old man. >u really believe that, don't you?" he II am a rangitira. My father attended an it school of learning. He was a lunga. I don't believe, Mr. Smith," said /with a chuckle. "I know." rou'll never get a white man to credit latural stories, Rua. Even your own *er lot don't think much..." Ilia interrupted him. The full magnifi of his voice sounded richly on the air. "Our people," Rua said, between two worlds. In a century mve had to swallow the progress of jn hundred years. Do you wonder jwe suffer a little from evolutionary >sia ? We are loyal members of the commonwealth; your enemies are our lies. You speak of the young people, are like voyagers whose canoes are in treat ocean between two countries, ics they behave objectionably and l^aughty children. Sometimes thay are it very bad tricks by their pakeha is." Rua looked full at Smith, who ted. "There are pakeha laws to prevent )ung men from making fools of them61 selves with whisky and too much beer," said Rua tranquilly, "but there are also pakehas who help them to break these laws. The pakehas teach our young maidens that they should be quiet girls and not have babies before they are married, but in my own hapu there is a small boy whom we call Hoani Smith, though in law he has no right to that name." "Hell, Rua, that's an old story," Smith muttered. "Let me tell you another old story. Many years ago, when I was a youth, a maiden of our hapu lost her way in the mists on Rangi's Peak. In ignorance, intending no sacrilege, she came upon the place where my grandfather rests with his weapons, and, being hungry, ate a small piece of cooked food that she carried with her. In that place it was an act of horrible sacrilege. When the mists cleared, she discovered her crime and returned in terror to her people. She told her story, and was sent out to this hill while her case was discussed. At night she thought she would creep back, but she missed her way. She fell into Taupotapu, the boiling mud pool. Everybody in the village heard her scream. Next morning 62 dress was thrown up, rejected by the it of the pool. When your friend Mr. iting speaks of my grandfather's toki, te this story to him. Tell him the girl's can still be heard sometimes at it. I am going home now," Rua added, drew his blanket about him with isely the same gesture that his grand had used to adjust his feather cloak. t true, Mr. Smith, that Mr. Questing ssaid a great many times that when he over the Springs, you will lose your k,S5 Ee can have it for mine," said Smith ly. "That'll do me all right. He doesn't to talk about the sack. When Quest- Ixhe boss down there, I'm turning the ip." He dragged the whisky bottle ^his pocket and fumbled with the cork, id yet," Rua said, "it's a very soft job. Ipre going to drink ? I shall go home, ^evening." IV Bell, marooned in the Claires' sitting-room, stared at faded photo is of regimental Anglo-Indians, at the fof blameless novels, and at a framed 63 poster of the Cotswolds in the spring. The poster was the work of a celebrated painter, and was at once gay, ordered, and delicate — a touching sequence of greens and blues. It make Dikon, the New Zealander, ache for England. By shifting his gaze slightly, he saw, framed in the sitting-room window, a landscape aloof from man. Its beauty was perfectly articulate yet utterly remote. Against his will he was moved by it as an unmusical listener may be profoundly disturbed by sound forms that he is unable to comprehend. He had travelled a great deal in his eight years5 absence from New Zealand and had seen places famous for their antiquities, but it seemed to him that the landscape he now watched through the Claires' window was of an early age far more remote than any of these. It did not carry the scars of lost civilisation. Rather, it seemed to make nothing of time, for it was still primeval and its only stigmata were those of neolithic age. Dikon, who longed to be in London, recognised in himself an affinity with this indifferent and profound country, and resented its attraction. He wondered what Gaunt would say to it. He was to return to his employer next 64 ly by bus and train, a long and fatiguing iiness. Gaunt had brought a car, and on -following day he, Dikon and Colly Id set out for Wai-ata-tapu. They had Je many such journeys in many coun Always at the end there had been isive hotels or flats and lavish atten -- amenities that Gaunt accepted as jsities of existence. Dikon was gripped sensation of panic. He had been mad to this place with its air of amateurish ipetence, its appalling Mr. Questing, redible Claires, whose air of breeding seem merely to underline their com icy. A bush pub might have amused it; the Springs would bore him to oration. jfigure passed the window and stood in loorway. It was Miss Claire. Dikon, le job obliged him to observe such >3 noticed that her cotton dress had most misguidedly garnished with a rbow of shiny ribbon, that her hair was *ly the wrong length, and that she ?no makeup. Bell," said Barbara, "we were lering if you'd advise us about Mr. t's rooms. Where to put things. I'm 65 afraid you'll find us very primitive" She laid tremendous stress on odd syllables and words, and as she did so turned up her eyes in a deprecating manner and pulled down the corners of her mouth like a lugubrious clown. "Comedy stuff,5' thought Dikon. "Alas, alas, she means to be funny." He said that he would be delighted to see the rooms, and, nervously fingering his tie, followed her along the verandah. The wing at the east end of the house, corresponding with the Claires' private rooms at the west end, had been turned into a sort of flat for Gaunt, Dikon and Colly. It consisted of four rooms: two small bedrooms, one tiny bedroom, and a slightly larger bedroom which had been converted into Mr. Questing's idea of a celebrity study. In this apartment were assembled two chromium-steel chairs, one large armchair, and a streamlined desk, all of rather bad design, and with the dealer's tabs still attached to them. The floor was newly carpeted, and the windows in process of being freshly curtained by Mrs. Claire. Mr. Questing, wearing a cigar as if it were a sort of badge of office, lolled carelessly 66 |ii the armchair. On Dikon's entrance he iprang to his feet. "Well, well, well," cried Mr. Questing iy, "how's the young gentleman ?" 'Quite well, thank you," said Dikon, jjlho had spent the greater part of the day I|||j@toring with Mr. Questing, and had ijl^EQme reconciled to these constant in ;:*SRir- "liwnes. fls this service," Mr. Questing went on, ig his cigar at the room, "or is it? r-eight hours ago I hadn't the pleasure Ifrour acquaintance, Mr. Bell. Alter our chat yesterday, I felt so optimistic I had to get out and get going. I went to ld the manager, I told him: 'Look,' I him. Til take this stuff, if you can get Wai-ata-tapu, Harpoon, by tomorrow loon. And if not, not.' That's the way re to do things, Mr. Bell." | pounds hope you have explained that even Gaunt may not decide to come," said son. "You have all taken a great deal of ible, Mrs. Claire." Claire looked doubtfully from Jting to Dikon. "I'm afraid," she said itively, "that I don't really quite 6? appreciate very up-to-date furniture. I always think a homelike atmosphere, no matter how shabby... However." Questing cut in,, and Dikon only half listened to another dissertation on the necessity of moving with the times. He was jerked into full awareness when Questing., with an air of familiarity,, addressed himself to Barbara. "And what's Babs got to say about it?" he asked, lowering his voice to a rich and offensive purr. Dikon saw her step backwards. It was an instinctive movement, he thought, uncontrollable as a reflex jerk, but less ungainly than her usual habit. Its effect on Dikon was as simple and as automatic as itself; he felt a stab of sympathy and a protective impulse. She was no longer regrettable; she was, for a moment, rather touching. Surprised, and a little disturbed, he looked away from Barbara to Mrs. Claire, and saw that her plump hands were clenched among sharp folds of the shining chintz. He felt that a little scene of climax had been enacted. It was disturbed by the appearance of another figure. Limping steps sounded on the verandah, and the doorway was darkened. A stocky man, elderly but still redheaded 68 and extremely handsome in an angry sort of sray, stood glaring at Questing. f l> "Oh, James," Mrs. Claire murmured, flifehere you are, old man. You haven't met |f|ir. Bell. My brother, Dr. Ackrington." Ill As they shook hands, Dikon saw that j^rbara had moved close to her uncle. "$$% "Have a good run up ?" asked Dr. llterington, throwing a needle-sharp glance iftfei^ikon. "Ever see anything more dis '/.s:'4"f^™ '' * *--* ,«1 Jljjpraceful than the roads ? I've been fishing." by this non sequitur, Dikon mred politely: "Indeed ? " clf you can call it fishing. Hope you and it aren't counting on catching any it. What with native reserves and the led infamous behaviour of white idling cads, there's not a fish to be had renty miles." low, now, now, Doctor," said Questing great hurry. "We can't let you get away that. Why, the greatest little trout is in New Zealand ..." >'you enjoy being called 'Mister'?" Ackrington demanded, so loudly that >n gave a nervous jump. Questing said %: "Not much." 'hen don't call me 'Doctor'," com69 manded Dr. Ackrington. Questing laughed uproariously. "That's just too bad," he said. Dr. Ackrington looked round the room. "Good God,35 he said, "what are you doing with the place?" "Mr. Questing," began Mrs. Claire, "has very kindly..." "I might have recognised the authentic touch," said her brother, turning his back on the room. "Staying here tonight are you, Bell ? I'd like a word with you. Come along to my room when you've a moment." "Thank you, sir," said Dikon. Dr. Ackrington looked through the doorway. "The star boarder," he said, "is to be treated to a comprehensive view of our amenities." They all looked through the doorway. Dikon saw a shambling figure cross the pumice sweep and approach the verandah. "Oh, dear!" said Mrs. Claire. "I'm afraid... James, dear, could you... ?" Dr. Ackrington limped out to the verandah. The newcomer saw, stumbled to a halt, and dragged a bottle from the pocket of his raincoat. To Dikon, watching through the win70 |W, the intrusion of a drunken white into the native landscape was at once osterous and rather pathetic. A clear t, reflected from the pumice track, :ed the folds of his shabby garments, stood there, drooping and lonely, and .ed the whisky bottle in his hand, staring as if it were the focal point for some .ed meditation. Presently he raised his and looked at Dr. Ackrington. ell, Smith," said Dr. Ackrington. ou're a sport, Doc,35 said Smith, fere's a couple of snifters left. Come on liave one." rou'll do better to keep it," said Dr. ington quite mildly. mith peered beyond him into the room. eyes narrowed. He lurched forward to verandah. "I'll deal with this," said ting importantly, and strode out to it him. They confronted each other. .ting, planted squarely on the verandah made much of his cigar; Smith clung .e post and stared up at him. ou clear out of this, Smith," said ting. ou get to hell yourself," said Smith inctly. He looked past Questing to the 7i group in the doorway, and very solemnly took off his hat. "Present company excepted," he added. "Did you hear what I said ?" "Is that the visitor?" Smith asked loudly, and pointed at Dikon. "Is that the reason why we're all sweating our guts up ? That ? Let's have a better look at it. Gawd, what a sissy." Dikon wondered confusedly which of the party felt most embarrassed. Dr. Ackrington made a loud barking noise, Barbara broke into agonised laughter, Mrs. Claire rushed into a spate of apologies, Dikon himself attempted to suggest by gay inquiring glances that he had not understood the tenor of Smith's remarks. He might have spared himself the trouble. Smith made a plunge at the verandah step shouting: "Look at the little bastard." Questing attempted to stop him, and the scene mounted in a rapid crescendo. Dikon, Mrs. Claire, and Barbara remained in the room, Dr. Ackrington on the verandah appeared to hold a watching brief, while Questing and Smith yelled industriously in each other's faces. The climax came when Questing again attempted to shove 72 a^nith away from the verandah. Smith ,ve his fist in Questing's face and lost balance. They fell simultaneously. The noise stopped as suddenly as it had . An inexplicable and ridiculous changed abruptly into a piece of Convincing melodrama. Dikon had seen such a set-up at the cinema studios. l, shaky and bloated, crouched where had fallen and mouthed at Questing. ;sting got to his feet and dabbed at the icr of his mouth with his handkerchief, cigar lay smoking on the ground reen them. It was a shot in techni>ur, for Rangi's Peak was now tinctured such a violence of purple as is seldom outside the theatre, and in the middle ice rose the steam of the hot pools. >ikon waited for a bit of rough dialogue ivelop and was not disappointed. $y God," Questing said, exploring his ) "you'll get yours for this. You're Bed.* rou're not my bloody boss." '11 bloody well get you the sack, don't worry. When I'm in charge here ..." ~"hat will do," said Dr. Ackrington >ly. 73 "What is all this ?" a peevish voice demanded. Colonel Claire, followed by Simon, appeared round the wing of the house. Smith got to his feet. "You'll have to get rid of this man, Colonel," said Questing. "What's he done ?" Simon demanded. "I socked him." Smith took Simon by the lapels of his coat. "You look out for yourselves," he said. "It's not only me he's after. Your dad won't sack me, will he, Sim?" "We'll see about that," Questing said. "But why ..." Colonel Claire began, and was cut short by his brother-in-law. "If I may interrupt for a moment," said Dr. Ackrington acidly, "I suggest that I take Mr. Bell to my room. Unless, of course, he prefers a ring-side seat. Will you come and have a drink, Bell ?" Dikon thankfully accepted, leaving the room in a gale of apologies from Mrs. Claire and Barbara. Questing, who seemed to have recovered his temper, followed them up with a speech in which anxiety, propitiation, and a kind of fawning urgency were most disagreeably mingled. He was cut short by Dr. Ackrington. 74 'iifia: fli "As for the behaviour of Other Persons," Ackrington continued, "there again, he ,y, as I do, form his own opinion. Come mg, Bell." Dikon followed him along the verandah his own room, a grimly neat apartment a hideous desk. f'Sit down," said Dr. Ackrington. He .ched open the door of a home-made board, and took out a bottle and two lers. "I can only offer you whisky," said. "With Smith's horrible example re you, you may not like the idea, id I don't go in for modern rot-gut." 'hank you," said Dikon. "I should whisky. May I ask who he is ?" f Smith ? He's a misfit, a hopeless fellow. good in him at all. Drifted out here as a . Agnes, my sister, who is something of oh , talks loosely about him being a 7I |i "Possibly," Dr. Ackrington said, "Mr. pell may prefer to form his own opinion of Ibis episode. No doubt he has seen a chronic l^oholic before now, and will not attach ffliiuch significance to anything this par fi^ajlar specimen may choose to say." ills^Yes, yes. Of course," Dikon murmured :Jj|pliappily. 5 public-school man. Her geese are invariably swans, but I suppose this suggestion is within the bounds of possibility. Smith may have originated in some ill-conducted establishment of dubious gentility. Sometimes their early habits of speech go down the wind with their self-respect. Sometimes they keep it up even in the gutter. They used to be called remittance men, and in this extraordinary country received a good deal of entirely misguided sympathy from native-born fools. That suit you ?55 "Thank you, sir," said Dikon, taking his drink. "My sister chooses to regard him as a sort of invalid. Some instinct must have led him ten years ago to the Springs. It has proved to be an ideal battening ground. They give him his keep and a wage, in exchange for idling about the place with an axe in his hand and a bottle in his pocket. When his cheque comes from Home he drinks himself silly, and my sister Agnes gives him beef tea and prays for him. He's a complete waster but he won't trouble you, I fancy. I confess that this evening I was almost in sympathy with him. He did what I have longed to do for the past three 76 inths." Dikon glanced up quickly. "He ive his fist into Questing's face/5 Dr. skrington explained. "Here's luck to >u," he added. They drank to each other. "Well/3 said Dr. Ackrington after a .use, "you will doubtless lose no time 1^. returning to Auckland and telling principal to avoid this place like the fcS^ifl"**'-' . - .» As this pretty well described Dikon's ition he could think of nothing to iy, and made a polite murmuring. "If it is of any interest, you may as 11 know you have seen it at its worst, lith is not always drunk and Questing i not always with us." | "Not ? But I thought..." | "He absents himself I rejoice in the mm and deplore the motive. However." rsDr. Ackrington glared portentously into glass and cleared his throat. Dikon lited for a moment, but his companion lowed no sign of developing his theme. Wkon was to learn that Dr. Ackrington mid exploit with equal mastery the ibarrassing phrase and the disconcerting ence. "Since we have mentioned him," Dikon 77 began nervously, "I confess I'm in a state of some confusion about Mr. Questing. May I ask if he is actually the -- if Waiatatapu Springs is his property ?" "No," said Dr. Ackrington. "I only ask," Dikon continued in a hurry, "because you see I was approached in the first instance by Mr. Questing. Although I've warned him that Gaunt may decide against the Springs, he has been at extraordinary pains and really very considerable expense to -- to alter existing arrangements and so on. And I mean -- well, Dr. Forster's note suggested that it was to Colonel and Mrs. Claire that we should apply." "So it is." "I see. But -- Questing ?" "If you decide against the Springs," said Dr. Ackrington, "you should convey your decision to my sister." "But," Dikon repeated obstinately, "Questing ?" "Ignore him." "Oh." Steps sounded outside the window, and voices: Smith's voice slurred but vicious; Colonel Claire's high-pitched, 78 «CC most disgraceful scene -- force hand..." \f( ... kick you out tomorrow." fff' This is too much," Colonel Claire d out. "I've stood a great deal, esting, but I must remind you that I have some authority here." Is that so ? Where do you get it from ? «'d better watch your step, Claire." By God," Smith roared out suddenly, >u'd better watch yours." Dr. Ackrington opened the door and d on the threshold. Complete silence lowed this move. Through the open r came a particularly strong wave of phurous air. cc+ I suggest, Edward," Dr. Ackrington that you continue your conversation haps a little hysterical; and Questing's voice of a bully. As they came nearer, I sentences separated out from the icral rumpus. cc :. . . if the Colonel's satisfied -- it's not 'rpop." , . . never mind that. You've been g for it and you'll get it." . . sack me and see what you get. 35 79 in the laundry. Mr. Bell has no doubt formed the opinion that we do not possess one. 33 He shut the door. "Let me give you another drink," he said courteously. 80 »?T^ fvlH, fi*;JL ? 3is*«. _ . CHAPTER THREE Gaunt at the Springs Hfcrp^IVE days ago/5 said Gaunt, "you dangled this place before me like some atrocious bait. Now you do ithing but bemoan its miseries. You are .gely inconsistent." "In the interval/' said Dikon, wrenching e car out of a pot hole, and changing >wn, "I have seen the place. I implore u to remember, sir, that you have been fid.3' "You overdid it. You painted it in cabre colours. My curiosity was stimud. For pity's sake, my dear Dikon, we a little away from the edge of the s. Can this mountain goat track sibly be a main road ?" "It's the only road from Harpoon to ai-ata-tapu, sir. You wanted somewhere [uiet, you know, and these are not untains. There are no mountains in the rthland. The big stuff is in the South." "I'm afraid you're a scenic snob. To this is a mountain. When I fall over 81 <-v^ the edge of this precipice, I shall not be found with a sneer on my lips because the drop was merely five hundred feet instead of a thousand. There's a most unpleasant smell about this place." "It's the thermal smell. People are said to get to like it." "Nonsense. How are you travelling. Colly ?" Fenced in by luggage in the back seat, Colly replied that he kept his eyes closed at the curves. "I didn't seem to notice it so much this morning in them forests," he added, "It's dynamite in the open." The road corkscrewed its way in and out of a gully and along a barren stretch of downland. On its left the coast ran freely northwards in a chain of scrolls, last interruptions in its firm line before it tightened into the Ninety Mile Beach. The thunder of the Tasman Sea hung like a vast rumour on the freshening air, and above the margin of the downs Rangi's Peak was slowly erected. "That's an ominous-looking affair," said Gaunt. "What is it about these hills that gives them an air of the fabulous ? They are not so very odd in shape, not incredible 82 ft ;e the Dolomites or imposing like the :kies — not, as you point out in your dor way, Dikon, really mountains all. Yet they seem to be pregnant with e tiresome secret. What is it ?" "Perhaps it's something to do with the volcanic silhouette. If there's a secret the inswer's in the Maori language. I'm afraid 'ou'll get very tired of that cone, sir. It iks over the hills round the Springs." >ikon waited for a moment. Gaunt had a ick of showing a fugitive interest in .ces, of asking for expositions, and of prowing restless when they were given him. i "Why is the answer in Maori ?" he said., "It was a native burial ground in the days. They tipped the bodies into the ter. It's extinct, you know. Supposed be full of them." "Good Lord!" said Gaunt softly. The car climbed higher, and the base Rangi's Peak, a series of broad platforms d slopes, came into sight. "You can :e quite clearly," Dikon said, "the route ey must have followed. Miss Claire tells pounds the tribes used to camp at the foot >r three days holding a tangi, the Maori sb equivalent of a wake. Then the body was carried up the Peak by relays of bearers. They said that if it was a chief who had died, and if the air was still, you could hear the singing as far away as Waiatatapu." "Gawd!3'said Colly. "Can you look into the crater and see >" V?^^W* » "I don't know. It's a native reserve, the Claires told me. Very tapu of course." "What's that ?" "Tapu ? Taboo. Sacred. Forbidden. Untouchable. I don't suppose the Maori people ever climb up the Peak nowadays. No admittance to the pakeha, of course; it would be much too tempting a hunting ground. They used to bury the chiefs' weapons with them. There is a certain adze inherited by the chief Rewi who died about a hundred years ago and was buried on the Peak. This adze, his favourite weapon, was hidden up there. It had featured prominently and bloodily in the Maori wars, and had been spoken of in their oral schools of learning for generations before that. Rewi's tokipoutangata. It has a secret mark on it, and was said to 84 be invested with supernatural power by Jlthe god Tane. There it is, they say, a fcfdllector's plum if ever there was one, ^omewhere on the Peak. The whole place tielongs to the Maori people. It's forbidden Iterritory to the white hunter." "How far away is it ?" "About eight miles." H;"It looks less than three in this uncanny losphere." "Kind of black, sir, isn't it ?" said Colly. "Black and clear," said Gaunt. "A irvellous back drop." fir They drove on in silence for some time. pThe flowing hills moved slowly about as |f in a contrapuntal measure determined the progress of the car. Dikon began recognise landmarks. He felt extremely Jprehensive. "Hullo," said Gaunt. "What's that Wfair down on the right ? A sort of class ^House, one would think." Dikon said nothing, but turned in at a ishackle gate. "You don't dare to tell me that we have rived," Gaunt demanded in a loud voice. tcYes,sir." "My God, Dikon, you'll writhe for 85 this. Look at it. Smell it. Colly, we are betrayed.5' "Mr. Bell warned you, sir," Colly said. "I daresay it's very comfortable." "If anything," said Dikon, "it's less comfortable than it looks. Those are the Springs." "Those reeking puddles ?" "Yes. And there, on the verandah, I see the Claires assembled. You are expected, sir," said Dikon. Out of the tail of his eyes he saw Gaunt's gloved fingers go first to his tie and then to his hat. He thought suddenly: "He looks terribly like a famous actor." The car rocked down the last stretch of the drive and shot across the pumice sweep. Dikon pulled up at the verandah steps. He got out, and taking off his hat approached the expectant Claires. He felt nervous and absurd. The Claires were grouped after the manner of an Edwardian family portrait that had taken an eccentric turn. Mrs. Claire and the Colonel were in deck chairs, Barbara sat on the steps grasping a reluctant dog. Dikon guessed that they wore their best clothes. Simon, obviously under duress, stood behind his 86 mother's chair looking murderous. All that was lacking, one felt, was the native equivalent of a gillie holding a couple of Staghounds in leash. As Dikon approached, Dr. Ackrington came out of his room. "Here we are, you see/' Dikon called out with an effort at gaiety. The Claires had risen. Impelled by confusion, doubt, an apology, Dikon shook hands blindly all round. Barbara looked nervously over his shoulder and he saw with a dismay which he afterwards recognised as prophetic that she had gone white to her « unpainted lips. He felt Gaunt's hand on his arm and hurriedly introduced him. Mrs. Claire brought poise to the situation, Dikon realised, but it was the kind of poise with which Gaunt was quite unfamiliar. She might have been welcoming a bishop-suffragan to a slum parish, a ishop-suffragan in poor health. "Such a long journey," she said anxiously. "You must be so tired." "Not a bit of it," said Gaunt, who had arrived at an age when actors affect a certain air of youthful hardihood. "But it's such a dreadful road. And you CS4 87 iEi. 'sap* /00& very tired," she persisted gently. Dikon saw Gaunt's smile grow formal. He turned to Barbara. For some reason which he had not attempted to analyse, Dikon wanted Gaunt to like Barbara. It was with apprehension that he watched her give a galvanic jerk, open her eyes very wide, and put her head on one side like a chidden puppy. "Oh, hell,3' he thought, "she's going to be funny." "Welcome," Barbara said in her sepulchral voice, "to the humble abode." Gaunt dropped her hand rather quickly. "Find us very quiet, I'm afraid," Colonel Claire said, looking quickly at Gaunt and away again. "Not much in your line, this country, what ?" "But we've just been remarking," Gaunt said lightly, "that your landscape reeks of theatre." He waved his stick at Rangi's Peak. "One expects to hear the orchestra." Colonel Claire looked baffled and slightly offended. "My brother," Mrs. Claire murmured. Dr. Ackrington limped forward. Dikon's attention was distracted from this last encounter by the behaviour of Simon Claire, who suddenly lurched out of cover, Hrpde down the steps and seized the i^ounded Colly by the hand. Colly, who about to unload the car, edged behind WHow are you?" Simon said loudly. fi@ive you a hand with that stuff." i:%prhat's all right, thank you, sir." ft^Come on," Simon insisted and laid dent hands on a pigskin dressing case ttch he lugged from the car and dumped ic too gently on the pumice. Colly gave leery of dismay. [ere, here, here!" a loud voice stulated. Mr. Questing thundered out Ilhe house and down the steps. "Cut out, young fellow," he ordered and Idered Simon away from the car. ly ?" Simon demanded. 7hat's no way to treat high-class stuff," led Mr. Questing with an air of ilerable patronage. "You'll have to learn than that. Handle it carefully." He iced upon Dikon. "We're willing," Wghed, "but we've a lot to learn. Well, well, how's the young gentleman ?" removed his hat and placed himself Gaunt. His change of manner was singly abrupt. He might have been 89 a lightning impersonator or a marionette controlled by some pundit of second-rate etiquette. Suddenly, he oozed deference. "I don't think," he said, "that I have had the honour -- " "Mr. Questing," said Dikon. "This is a great day for the Springs, sir," said Mr. Questing. CCA great day." ccThank you," said Gaunt, glancing at him. "If I may I should like to see my rooms." He turned to Mrs. Claire. "Dikon tells me you have taken an enormous amount of trouble on my behalf. It's very kind indeed. Thank you so much." And Dikon saw that with this one speech, delivered with Gaunt's famous air of gay sincerity, he had captivated Mrs. Claire. She beamed at him. "I shall try not to be troublesome," Gaunt added. And to Mr. Questing: "Right." They went in procession along the verandah. Mr. Questing, still uncovered, led the way. II Barbara sat on the edge of her stretcher bed in her small hot room and looked at 90 $#o dresses. Which should she wear for .er on the first night ? Neither of them new. The red lace had been sent out years ago by her youngest aunt who ; worn it a good deal in India. Barbara altered it to fit herself and something gone wrong with the shoulders, so it bulged where it should lie flat. 3fg> cover this defect she had attached a JlJaek flower to the neck. It was a long 5 and she did not as a rule change rV dinner. Simon might make some 1 comment if she wore the red The alternative was a short floral thick blue colour with a messy bw design. She had furbished it up a devilish shell ornament and a satin and even poor Barbara wondered if a success. Knowing that she should in the kitchen with Huia, she pulled her print, dragged the red lace over fhead and looked at herself in the equate glass. No, it would never e her dress, it would always hark to unknown Aunty Wynne who two ago had written: ccAm sending a odds and ends for Ba. Hope she ear red." But could she? Could she 91 plunge about in the full light of day in this ownerless waif of a garment with everybody knowing she had dressed herself up? She peered at her face, which was slightly distorted by the glass. Suddenly she hauled the dress over her head, fighting with the stuffy-smelling lace. "Barbara," her mother called. "Where are you? Ba!" "Coming!" Well, it would have to be the floral. But when, hot and desperate, she had finally dressed, and covered the floral with a clean overall, she pressed her hands together. "Oh, God," she thought, "make him like it here! Please dear God, make him like it." Ill "Can you possibly endure it?" Dikon asked. Gaunt was lying full length on the modern sofa. He raised his arms above his head. "All," he whispered, "I can endure all but Questing. Questing must be kept from me." "But I told you -- " "You amaze me with your shameless parrot cry of 'I told you so,' " said Gaunt 92 Mildly. "Let us have no more of it." He silaoked out of the corner of his eye at con. "And don't look so tragic, my ass," he added. "I've been a small touring actor in my day. This place qj#. strangely reminiscent of a one-night ill-up. No doubt I can endure it. I should '.- J^*(P-"" A H&ldossing down in an Anderson shelter, ^ iy God. I do well to complains Only spare HJHie.. Questing, and I shall endure the ile£t." IjjfefAt least we shall be spared his conversa this evening. He has a previous SHagagement. Lest he offer to put it off, I i^S'-;--' " C7 f JL * him you would be desolated but had idy arranged to dine in your rooms i4 go to bed at nine. So away he went." ecGood. In that case I shall dine en ille and go to bed when it amuses I have yet to meet Mr. Smith, remem . Is it too much to hope that he will je another fight ?" 'It seems he only gets drunk when his ittance comes in." Dikon hesitated and asked: "What did you think of the res, sir ?" ^Marvellous character parts. Overstated, nirse. Not quite West End. A number93 m**&~ one production on tour, shall we say? The Colonel's moustache is a little too thick in both senses." Dikon felt vaguely resentful. "You captivated Mrs. Claire," he said. Gaunt ignored this. "If one could take them as they are," he said. "If one could persuade them to appear in those clothes and speak those lines! My dear, they'd be a riot. Miss Claire! Dikon, I didn't believe she existed." "Actually," said Dikon stiffly, "she's rather attractive. If you look beyond her clothes." "You're a remarkably swift worker if you've been able to do that." "They're extraordinarily kind and, I think, very nice." "Until we arrived you never ceased to exclaim against them. Why have you bounced round to their side all of a sudden ?" "I only said, sir, that I thought you would be bored by them." "On the contrary I'm agreeably entertained. I think they're all darlings and marvellous comedy. What is your trouble ?" "Nothing. I'm sorry. I've just discovered 94 l^at I like them. I thought," said Dikon, ^toiling a little in spite of himself, "that tableau on the verandah was terribly Ij8d. I wonder how long they'd been jjpmped up like that." f!|||cFor ages, I should think. The dog was %Jainly exasperated and young Claire ffbked lethal." CC1 It is rather touching," said Dikon and away. lU'-Mrs. Claire and Barbara, wearing their en hats and carrying trowels, went it the window on tiptoe, their faces and absorbed. When they had a little way Dikon heard them pering together. In heaven's name," cried Gaunt, "why they stalk about their own premises ;e'.that ? What are they plotting ?" Pit's because I explained that you to relax before dinner. They don't ,t to disturb you. I fancy their vegetable en is round the corner." :er a pause Gaunt said: "It will end rmy feeling insecure and ashamed, 'tiling arouses one's self-abasement more the earnest amateur. How long have had this place ?" 95 "About twelve years, I think. Perhaps longer." "Twelve years and they are still amateurs!" "They try so terribly hard," Dikon said. He wandered out on to the verandah. Someone was walking slowly round the warm lake towards the springs. "Hullo," Dikon said. "We've a caller." "What do you mean? Be very careful, now. I'll see no one, remember." "I don't think it's for us, sir," Dikon said. "It's a Maori." It was Rua. He wore the suit he bought in 1936 to welcome the Duke of Gloucester. He walked slowly across the pumice to the house, tapped twice with his stick on the central verandah post and waited tranquilly for someone to take notice of him. Presently Huia came out and gave a suppressed giggle on seeing her greatgrandfather. He addressed her in Maori with an air of austerity and she went back into the house. Rua sat on the edge of the verandah and rested his chin on his stick. "Do you know, sir," said Dikon, "I believe it might be for us, after all. I've recognised the old gentleman." 96 t CCI won't see anybody," said Gaunt. fWho is he?" felr "He's a Maori version of the Last of the ->v;n - ,&* ' ifellsrons. Rua Te Kahu, sometime journalist H^nd M.P. for the district. I'll swear he's f called to pay his respects." 5/ccYou must see him for me. We did bring some pictures, I suppose ?" ^CCCI don't think," Dikon said, "that the 1 t^st of the Barons will be waiting for lljgned photographs." I ate "You're determined to snub me," said : J||aunt amiably. "If it's an interview, you'll llliHk to him, won't you ?" Ill Colonel Claire came out of the house, flliiiook hands with Rua and led him off in .^SfiiV-."*" « .-, - . rection of their own quarters. flit's not for us after all, sir." "Thank heaven for that," Gaunt said Wji pjut he looked a little huffy nevertheless. In Colonel Claire's study, a room about size of a small pantry and rather less ortable, Rua unfolded the purpose of call. Dim photographs of polo teams d down menacingly from the walls, 's dark eyes rested for a moment on a p of turbaned Sikhs before he turned ^ddress himself gravely to the Colonel. 97 "I have brought," he said, "a greeting from my hapu to your distinguished guest, Mr. Geoffrey Gaunt. The Maori people of Wai-ata-tapu are glad that he has come here and would like to greet him with a cordial Haere mai." "Oh, thanks very much, Rua," said the Colonel. "I'll tell him." "We have heard that he wishes to be quiet. If, however, he would care to hear a little singing, we hope that he will do us the honour to come to a concert on Saturday week in the evening. I bring this invitation from my hapu to your guests and your family, Colonel." Colonel Claire raised his eyebrows, opened his eyes and mouth, and glared at his visitor. He was not particularly surprised, but merely wore his habitual expression for absorbing new ideas. "Eh?" he said at last. "Did you say a concert ? Extraordinarily nice of you, Rua, I must say. A concert." "If Mr. Gaunt would care to come." Colonel Claire gave a galvanic start. "Care to?" he repeated. "I don't know, I'm sure. We should have to ask him, what ? Sound the secretary/ 98 35 •'Hi vjfSl 11; Rua gave a little bow. "Certainly," he id. Colonel Claire rose abruptly and thrust head out of the window. "James /" he felled. "Here!" "What for?" said Dr. Ackrington's Pjroice at some distance. I want you. It's my brother-in-law," explained more quietly to Rua. "We'll what he thinks, um?" He went out the verandah and shouted, "Agnes /" "Hoo-oo?" replied Mrs. Claire from ide the house. "Here." "In a minute, dear." ^Barbara /" "Wait a bit, Daddy. I can't." "Here." Having summoned his family, Colonel e sank into an armchair, and glancing Rua gave a rather aimless laugh. His i happened to fall upon a Wild West that he had been reading. He was a y consumer of thrillers, and the sight this one lying open and close at hand ed him as an open box of chocolate s a child. He smiled at Rua and ered him a cigarette. Rua thanked him 99 and took one, holding it cautiously between the tips of his fingers and thumb. Colonel Claire looked out of the corners of his eyes at his thriller. He was long-sighted. "There was another matter about which I hoped to speak," Rua said. "Oh yes ?" said Colonel Claire. "D'you read much ?" "My eyesight is not as good as it once was, but I can still manage clear print.'5 "Awful rot, some of these yarns," Colonel Claire continued, casually picking up his novel. "This thing I've been dipping into, now. Blood-and-thunder stuff. Ridiculous." "I am a little troubled in my mind. Disturbing rumours have reached me . . ." "Oh?" Colonel Claire, still with an air of absent-mindedness, flipped over a page. ". . . about .proposals that have been made in regard to native reserves. You have been a good friend to our people, Colonel..." "Not at all," Colonel Claire murmured abstractedly, and felt for his reading glasses. "Always very pleased . . ."He found his spectacles, put them on and, still casually, laid the book on his knee. 100 "Since you have been at Waiatatapu, Jhere have been friendly relations between ur family and my hapu. We should not e to see anyone else here." "Very nice of you." Colonel Claire was jgEfw frankly reading, but he continued to fisrear a social smile. He contrived to suggest That he merely looked at the book because ;er all one must look at something. Old ,'s magnificent voice rolled on. The ori people are never in a hurry, and his almost forgotten generation a gentle n led up to the true matter of an icial call through a series of polite >roaches. Rua's approval of his host based on an event twelve years old. ic Claires arrived at Wai-ata-tapu during (particularly virulent epidemic of in snza. Over at Rua's village there were ly deaths. The Harpoon health authStties led by the irate and overworked Dr. bj had fallen foul of the Maori )le in matters of hygiene, and a igerous deadlock had been reached. Rua, normally exercised an iron authority, himself too ill to control his hapu. leral ceremonies lasting for days, Actuated with long-drawn-out wails of 101 greeting and lamentation, songs of death, and interminable after-burial feasts maintained native conditions in a community lashed by a European scourge. Rua's people became frightened, truculent, and obstructive, and the health authorities could do nothing. Upon this scene came the Claires. Mrs. Claire instantly translated the whole affair into terms of an English village, offered their newly built house as an emergency hospital and herself undertook the nursing, with Rua as her first patient. Colonel Claire, whose absence of mind had inoculated him against the arrogance of Anglo-Indianism, and who by his very simplicity had fluked his way into a sort of understanding of native peoples, paid a visit to the settlement, arranged matters with Rua, and was accepted by the Maori people as a rangitira, a person of breeding. He and his wife professed neither extreme liking nor antipathy for the Maori people, who nevertheless found something recognisable and admirable in both of them. The war had brought them closer together. The Colonel commanded the local Home Guard and had brought many of Rua's older men into his division. 102 *i*' m»"~ Jlfcua considered that he owed his life to *" "s pakeha friends, and though he thought em funny, loved them. It did not offend therefore, when Colonel Claire ^liirtively read a novel under his very Jjnose. He rumbled on magnificently with vfais story, in amiable competition with CITexas Rangers and six-shooter blondes. ,- ". . . there has been enough trouble in ,|he past. The Peak is a native reserve fsnd we do not care for trespassers. He ||||ias been seen by a certain rascal coming |j|fclown the western flank with a sack on his wiihoulders. At first he was friendly with \7;;Js,Vi*;;i|L .*' __ » no-good young fellow, Eru Saul, who bad pakeha and a bad Maori. Now have quarrelled and their quarrel ffftwncerns my great-granddaughter Huia, o is a foolish girl but much too good i"**> ^"^ _ ^"^ lor either of them. And Eru tells my dson Rangi, and my grandson tells me, ,t Mr. Questing is behaving dishonestly p the Peak. Because he is your guest Fe have said nothing, but now I find him ing to some silly young fellows amongst people and putting a lot of bad ideas to their heads. Now that makes me very pngry," said Rua, and his eyes flashed. "I 103 do not like my young people to be taught to cheapen the culture of their race. It has been bad enough with Mr. Herbert Smith, who buys whisky for them and teaches them to make pigs of themselves. He is no good. But even he comes to me to warn me of this Questing." The colonel's novel dropped with a loud slap. His eyebrows climbed his forehead, his eyes and mouth opened. He turned pale. "Hey?" he said. "Questing? What about Questing ?" ccYou have not been listening. Colonel," said Rua, rather crossly. "Yes, I have, only I didn't catch everything. I'm getting deaf." "I am sorry. I have been telling you that Mr. Questing has been looking for curios on the Peak and boasting that in a little while Wai-ata-tapu will be his property. I have to come to ask you in confidence if this is true." "What's all this about Questing?" demanded Dr. Ackrington, appearing at the doorway in his dressing-gown. " 'Evening, Rua. How are you ?" "It began by being about Gaunt and a 104 lioncert party,33 said the Colonel unhappily. Iflt's only just turned into something in infidence about Questing.35 IV ;cWell, if it's in confidence, why the devil did you call me ? There seems to be Conspiracy in this house to deny my jciatica thermal treatment.33 "I wanted to ask you if you thought Gaunt would like to go to a concert. Rua's people have very kindly offered..." §'"* "How the devil do I know? Ask young ell. Very nice of you, Rua, I must say.33 ifj"And then Rua began to talk about fijuesting and the Peak.33 If ecWhy don't you call him Quisling and l|e done with it ?33 Dr. Ackrington de tnanded loudly. "It's what he is, by God.33 ffv^James! I really must insist-- You have Iff* shred of evidence.33 ~*"Haven't I? Haven't I? Very well. it and see.33 fRua stood up. "If it is not troubling too much,33 he said, "perhaps you 'ould ask Mr. Gaunt's secretary... ?33 "Yes, yes,33 the Colonel agreed hury. "Of course. Wait a minute, will >u?33 He stumbled out of the room, and they 105 heard him thump along the verandah towards Geoffrey Gaunt's quarters. Rua's old eyes were very bright and cunning as he looked at Dr. Ackrington, but he did not speak. "So he's been trespassing, has he?" asked Dr. Ackrington venomously. "I could have told you that when the Hip poly te was torpedoed." Rua made a brusque movement with his wrinkled hands but still he did not speak. "He does it by night sometimes, doesn't he?" Dr. Ackrington went on. "Doesn't he go up by night, with a flash lamp ? Good God, my dear fellow, I've seen it myself. Curios be damned." "Somehow," Rua said mildly, "I have never been able to enjoy spy stories. They always seem to me to be incredible." "Indeed!" Dr. Ackrington rejoined acidly. "So this country, alone in the English-speaking world, stands immune from the activities of enemy agents. And why, pray? Do you think the enemy is frightened of us ? Amazing complacency!" "But he has been seen digging." "Do you imagine he would be seen 106 *" lemaphoring ? Of course he digs. No doubt b robs your ancestor's graves. No doubt |ie will have some infamous booty to i&hibit when he is brought to book." Rua pinched his lower lip and became ipery solemn. "I have felt many regrets/' Jke said, ccfbr the old age which compelled me to watch my grandsons and great-grand- long set out to war without me. But if you are right, there is still work in Ao-teafoa for an old warrior." He chuckled, and jj&r. Ackrington looked apprehensively at CI have been indiscreet," he said. "Keep phis under your hat, Rua. A word too lioon and we shan't get him. I may tell you p^have taken steps. But, see here. There's a ii.'.-i. ^ ___ tin amount of cover on the Peak. If mr young people haven't altogether lost it art of their forebears -- " J|t"We must arrange something," said fjfeua composedly. "Yes. No doubt some ig can be arranged." iceWhat is it, dear?" said Mrs. Claire, Spearing abruptly in the doorway. "Oh! i, I thought Edward called me, James. )d-evening, Rua." &*CI did call you about half an hour ago," 107 said her husband crossly from behind her back, "but it's all over now. Old Rua was here with some -- oh, you're still there, Rua. Mr. Gaunt's secretary says they'll be delighted." Barbara came running distractedly from the kitchen. She and her parents formed up in a sort of queue outside the door. "What is it, Daddy ?" she asked. "What do you want ?" "Nobody wants anything,53 shouted her father angrily. "Everybody's delighted. Why do you all come running at me ?" "My people will be very pleased," said Rua. "I shall go now and tell them. I wish you all good-evening." As he walked along the verandah his great-granddaughter, Huia, flew out and excitedly rang the dinner bell in his face. He gave her a good-natured buffet and struck for home. Dikon, looking startled, came out on the verandah followed by Gaunt. Huia, over-stimulated by her first view of the celebrity, flashed her eyes, laughed excitedly and continued to peal her bell until Barbara took it away from her. "I think that must be dinner," said Mrs. 108 Claire with a bright assumption of surprise, Iwhile their ears still rang with the din. She turned with poise towards Gaunt. "Shall we go in?5' she asked gently, and llthey formed up into a kind of procession, trailing after each other towards the dining-room door. At the last moment Simon appeared, as usual from the direction of the cabins, where he had a sort of .workshop. I But the first night's dinner was not to |^o forward without the intrusion of that ^articular form of grotesque irrelevance ItWiich Dikon was learning to associate |;"frith the Claires, for as Gaunt and Mrs. jJGlaire approached the front door, a terrific ftfumpus broke out in the kitchen. IP "Where's the Colonel?'5 an agitated ffoice demanded. "I've got to see the iColonel." Smith, dishevelled and with threads of dood crossing his face, blundered through le dining-room from the kitchen, thrust pBaunt and Mrs. Claire aside, and seized :-ns ^ k at the signal before you beckoned inith to cross the bridge ?" For -the first time, Questing looked itely uncomfortable. He turned very in the face and said: "Look, Doctor, We got a very, very distinguished it. We don't need to trouble Mr. lunt -- " "Not at all," said Gaunt. "I'm enormsly interested." "Will you answer me ?" Dr. Ackrington 129 shouted. "Knowing that the evening train was due, and seeing the fellow hesitated to cross the railway bridge, did you or did you not look at the signal before waving him on ?" "Of course I looked at it." Questing examined the end of his cigar, glanced up from under his eyebrows and added in a curiously flat voice: "It wasn't working." Dikon experienced that wave of personal shame with which an amateur reciter at close quarters can embarrass his audience. It was such a bad lie. It was so clearly false. Questing so obviously knew that he was not believed. Even Dr. Ackrington seemed deflated and found nothing to say. After a moment Questing mumbled: "Well, / didn't see it, anyway. They ought to have a wig-wag there." "A red light some ten inches in diameter and you didn't see it." "I said it wasn't working." "We can check up on that," said Simon. Questing turned on him. "You mind your own business," he said, but his voice missed the note of anger, and it seemed to Dikon that there was something he could not bring himself to say. 130 "Do you mind telling us where you had been ?" Dr. Ackrington continued. 1 "Pohutukawa Bay.33 I , "But you were on the Peak road.5' "I know I was. I thought I'd just take a run along the Peak road before I came home." "You'd been to Pohutukawa Bay ?" "I'm telling you I went there.5' n "To see the trees in flower ?" "My God, why shouldn't I go to see the jidotacows! It's a great sight, isn't it ? Hundreds of people go, don't they? If ^you must know I thought it would be a ftice little run for Mr. Gaunt. I thought 'I'd take a look-see if they were in full ifoom before suggesting he went over Itflere." J,SiccBut you must have heard that there is bloom this year on the pohutukawas. ^Everybody's talking about it." ||';;For some inexplicable reason Questing Jpoked pleased. "I hadn't heard," he said lickly. "I was astonished when I got -re. It's very, very disappointing. Just >ad." Ackrington, also, looked pleased. He * ^^ up and stood with his back to Questing, 131 his eyes fixed triumphantly on his brother in-law. "Yes, but I don't know what the devil you're getting at, both of you," Colonel Claire complained. "I've been -- " "Do me the extraordinary kindness to hold your tongue, Edward.5' "Look here, James!" "Cut it out, Dad," said Simon. He looked at his uncle. "I reckon I'm satisfied," he said roughly. "I am obliged to you. Thank you, Mr. Questing, I fancy we need detain you no longer." Questing drew at his cigar, exhaled a long dribble of smoke and remained where he was. "Wait a bit, wait a bit," he said, speaking in the best tradition of the cinema boss. "You're satisfied, huh ? O.K. That's fine. That's swell. What about me ? Just because I've got an instinct about the right way to behave when we've distinguished guests among us, you think you can get away with dynamite. I've tried to save Mr. Gaunt the embarrassment of this scene. I apologise to Mr. Gaunt. I'd like him to know that when I've taken over this joint the resemblance 132 to a giggle-house will fade out automatically." He walked to the door. "But we must have an exit line," Gaunt muttered. Questing turned. "And just in case you didn't hear me, Claire," he said magnificently, CCI said when and not if. Good-evening." He did his best to slam the door but true to the tradition of the house it jammed halfway and he wisely made no second attempt. He walked slowly past the Jpndows with his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, making much of his cigar . - As soon as he had passed out of earshot, Jpolonel Claire raised a piteous cry of protest. He hadn't understood. He would f| lever understand. What was all that ||ilbout Pohutukawa Bay? Nobody had him anything about it. On the cont || ft With extraordinary complacency, Dr. fjlJkckrington cut in: "Nobody told you it 'H-itos a bad year for pohutukawas, my good iljllldward, for the conclusive reason that it is -."?Esr?§?V. - p>phenomenally good year. The Bay is flWaze with blossom. I laid for your friend guesting, Edward, and, as Simon's in 133 %€!« tolerable jargon would have it -- did he fall!" IV After the party in the dining-room had broken up. Gaunt suggested that he and Dikon should go for a stroll before night set in. Dikon proposed the path leading past the Springs and round the shoulder of the hill that separated them from the native settlement. Their departure was hindered by Mrs. Claire, who hurried from the house, full of warnings about boiling mud. "But you can't miss your way, really," she added. There are little flags, white for safe and red for boiling mud. But you will take care of him, Mr. Bell, won't you? Come back before dark. One would never forgive oneself if after all this ..." The sentence died away as a doubt arose in Mrs. Claire's mind about the propriety of saying that death by boiling mud would be a poor sequel to an evening of social solecisms. She looked very earnestly at Gaunt and repeated: "So you will take care, won't you ? Such a horrid place, really. When one thinks of our dear old English lanes ..." 134 They assured her and set off. Soon after their arrival Gaunt had taken his first Iteep in the Elfin Pool. Whether through the agency of free sulphuric acid, or through the stimulus provided by the scene they had just witnessed, his leg was less painful than it had been for some time, and he was in good spirits. "I've always adored scenes," he said, ccand this was a princely one. They can't keep it up, of course, but really, Dikon, if this is Jwiything like a fair sample, I shall do very Aicely at Wai-ata-tapu. How right you were to urge me to come." "I'm glad you've been entertained," Dikon rejoined, "but honestly, sir, I feegard the whole affair as an exceedingly snister set-up. I mean, why did Questing lie like a flat-fish ?" |i "Several most satisfactory theories faresent themselves. I am inclined to ?|hink that Miss Claire is the key figure." ^ Dikon, who was leading the way, flopped so suddenly that Gaunt walked |ato him. "What can you mean, sir!" :J)ikon cried. "How can Questing's relations with Smith have any possible con flection with Barbara Claire ?" 135 CC1 CI may be wrong, of course, but there is no doubt that he has his eye on her. Didn't you notice that ? All that frightful line of stuff with the Maori waitress was undoubtedly directed at Barbara Claire. A display of really most unpalatable oomph. I must say she didn't seem to care for it. Always the young gentlewoman, of course." They walked on in silence for a minute, and then Gaunt said lightly: "Surely you can't have fallen for her ?55 Without turning his head Dikon said crossly: "What in the name of high fantasy could have put that antic notion into your head ?55 "The back of your neck has bristled like a hedgehog ever since I mentioned her. And it's not such an antic notion. There are possibilities. She's got eyes and a profile and,a figure. Submerged it is true in dressy floral ninon, but there nevertheless.55 And with a touch of the malice with which Dikon was only too familiar, Gaunt added: "Barbara Claire. It's a charming name, isn't it? You must teach her not to hoot.55 Dikon never liked his employer less than he did at that moment. When Gaunt 136 prodded him in the back with his stick, Dikon pretended not to notice, but cursed softly to himself. "I apologise," said Gaunt, "in fourteen different positions." "Not at all, sir." "Then don't prance along at such a rate. Stop a moment. I'm exhausted. What's that noise ?" They had rounded the flank of the hill and now came in sight of the native settlement. The swift northern dusk had fallen upon the countryside with no suggestion of density. The darkening of the air seemed merely to be a change in translucence. It was very still, and as they stood listening Dikon became aware of a curious sound. It was as if a giant somewhere close at hand were blowing thick bubbles very slowly and complacently; or as if, over the brink of the hill, a vast porridge pot had just come to boiling point. The sounds were irregular, each one mounting to its point of explosion. Plop. Plop-plop . . . Plop. They moved forward and reached a point where the scrub and grass came to an end and the path descended a steep 137 bank to traverse a region of solidified blue mud, sinter mounds, hot pools and geysers. The sulphurous smell was very strong. The track, defined at intervals by stakes to which pieces of white rag had been tied, went forward over naked hillocks towards the hip-roofs of the native settlement. "Shall we go farther ?" asked Dikon. "It's a detestable place, but I think we must see this infernal brew.33 "We must keep to the track, then. Shall I go first ?55 They walked on and presently, through the soles of their feet, received a strange experience. The ground beneath them was unsteady, quivering a little, telling them that, after all, there was no stability in the earth by which we symbolise stability. They moved across a skin and the organism beneath it was restless. "This is abominable/5 said Gaunt. "The whole place works secretly. It's alive." "Look to your right,53 said Dikon. They had come to a hillock; the path divided and, where it turned to the right was marked by red flags. "They told me you used to be able to i38 walk along there/' Dikon explained, "but it's not safe now. Taupo-tapu is encroach« toS-" '%$: They followed the white flags, climbed steeply, and at last from the top of the hillock, looked down on Taupotapu. It was perhaps fifteen feet across, dun coloured and glistening, a working ulcer in the body of the earth. Great bubbles of mud formed themselves deliberately, swelled, and broke with the sounds which they had noticed a few minutes before and which were now loud and insistent. With each eruption unctuous rings momentarily creased the surface of the brew. It was impossible to escape the notion that Taupo-tapu had some idiotic purpose of its own. For perhaps two minutes Gaunt looked at it in silence. "Quite obscene, isn't it ?" he said at last. "If you know anything about it, don't tell me." "The only story I've heard," Dikon said, "is not a pretty one. I won't." Gaunt's reply was unexpected. "I should prefer to hear it from a Maori," he said. "You can see where the thing has eaten 139 into the old path," Dikon pointed out. "The red flags begin again on the other side and rejoin our track just below us. Just as well. It would be an unpleasant error to mistake the paths, wouldn't it?" "Don't for God's sake," said Gaunt. "It's getting dark. Let's go home.3' When they turned back, Dikon found that he had to make a deliberate eifort to prevent himself from hurrying, and he thought he sensed Gaunt's impatience too. The firm dry earth felt wholesome under their feet as once more they circled the hill. Behind them, in the native village, a drift of song rose on the cool air, intolerably plaintive and lonely. "What's that ?" "One of their songs," said Dikon. "Perhaps they're rehearsing for your concert. It's the genuine thing. You get the authentic music up here." The shoulder of the hill came between them and the song. It was almost dark as they walked along the brushwood fence towards Wai-ata-tapu. Steam from the hot pools drifted in wraiths across the still night air. It was only when she moved 140 forward that Barbara's dress and the blurred patches of white that were her arms and face told them that she had been waiting for them. Perhaps the darkness gave her courage and balance. Perhaps any voice would have been welcome just then, but it seemed to Dikon that Barbara's had a directness and repose that he had not heard in it before. "I hope I didn't startle you/' she said. iS "Oh." Barbara half turned her head and laughed, not with her usual boisterousness, but shyly. "I wondered what he was for," she said. "He has his uses. When I start work again he'll be kept very spry." "You're going to write, aren't you? Uncle James told me. Is it an autobiography ? I do hope it is." Gaunt moved his hand above her elbow. "And why do you hope that ?" "Because I want to read it. You see, I've seen your Rochester, and once somebody iwho was staying here had an American magazine, I think it was called the Theatre MrtSy and there was an article in it tsvith photographs of you as different ipeople. I liked the Hamlet one the best j«feecause -- " L "Well ?" asked Gaunt when she paused. $d> Barbara stumbled over her next speech. ^Because -- well, I suppose because I ^£now it best. No, that's not really why. I Mdn't know it at all well until then, but I ^ read it again, lots of times, and tried to imagine how you sounded when you said the speech in the photograph. Of course after hearing Mr. Rochester it was easier." 143 "Which photograph was that, Dikon?" asked Gaunt over his shoulder. "It was Rosencrantz . . ." Barbara began eagerly. "Ah, I remember.53 Gaunt stood still and put her from him, holding her by the shoulder as he had held the gratified small-part actor who played Rosencrantz in New York. Dikon heard him draw in his breath as he always did when he collected himself to rehearse. In the silence of that warm evening amidst the reek of sulphur and against the nebulous thermal background, the beautiful voice spoke quietly: " 1O God) I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.' " Dikon was irritated and disturbed by Barbara's rapturous silence and infuriated by the whispered "Thank you" with which she finally ended it. "She's making a perfect little ass of herself," he thought, but he knew that Gaunt would not find her attitude excessive. He had an infinite capacity for absorbing adulation. "Can you go on?" Gaunt was saying. "Which dreams -- " 144 " ' Which dreams indeed are ambition, for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream* " cc 'A dream itself is but a shadow /' Do you hear this, Dikon?" cried Gaunt. "She knows the lines.5' He moved forward again, Barbara at his side. "You've got a voice, my child/' he said. "How have you escaped the accent? Do you know what you've been talking about ? You must hear the music, but you must also achieve the meaning. Say it again: thinking-- 'Which dreams indeed are ambition.'' " But Barbara fumbled the second time, and they spoke the line backwards and forwards to each other as they crossed the pumice to the. house. Gaunt was treating her to an almost indecent helping of charm, Dikon considered. The lights were up in the house and Mrs. Claire was hurriedly doing the blackout. She had left the door open and a square of warmth reached across the verandah to the pumice, Before they came to its margin Gaunt checked Barbara again. ccWe say good-night here," he said. wThe dusk becomes you well. Goodnight, Miss Claire." 145 He turned on his heel and walked towards his rooms. "Good-night," said Dikon. She had moved into the light. The look she turned upon him was radiant. "You're terribly lucky, aren't you?" said Barbara. "Lucky ? "Your job. To be with him." "Oh," said Dikon, "that. Yes, of course." "Good-night," said Barbara, and ran indoors. He looked after her, absently polishing his glasses with his handkerchief. V Barbara lay in bed with her eyes wide open to the dark. Until this moment she had denied the waves of bliss that lapped at the edge of her thoughts. Now she opened her heart to them. She passed the sequence of those few minutes in the dusk through and through her mind, examining each moment, feeling again its lustre, wondering at her happiness. It is easy to smile at such fervours, but in her unreasoned ecstasy she reached a point of pure enchantment to which she 146 would perhaps never again ascend. The experience may appear more touching but its reality is not impugned if it is recorded that Gaunt, at the same time, was preening himself a little. "Do you know, Dikon," he said, "that strange little devil quivered like a puppy out there in the dusk." Dikon did not answer and after a moment Gaunt added: "After all it's pleasant to know that one's work can reach so far. The Bard and sulphuric phenomena! An amusing juxtaposition, isn't it ? One lights a little flame, you know. Once carries the torch. « 147 CHAPTER FIVE Mr. Questing Goes Down for the Second Time THE more blatant eccentricities of the first evening were not repeated during the following days, and the household at Wai-ata-tapu settled down to something like a normal routine. The Colonel fatigued himself to exhaustion with Home Guard exercises. His wife and daughter,, overtaxed by the new standard they had set themselves, laboured incessantly in the house. Gaunt, following Dr. Ackrington's instruction, sat at stated hours in the Springs, took short walks, and began to work steadily on his book. Dikon filed old letters and programmes which had to be winnowed for use in the autobiography. Gaunt dictated for two hours every morning and evening, and expected Dikon's shorthand notes to be translated into typescript before they began work on the following day. Dr. Ackrington dealt austerely in his own room with the 148 problems of comparative anatomy. On Wednesday he announced that he was going away for a week and, when Mrs. Claire said gently that she hoped there was nothing the matter, replied that they would all be better if they were dead, and drove away. Colly, who had been a signaller in the 1914 war, recovered from the surprise of Simon's first advance, and spent a good deal of time in the cabin helping him with his Morse. Simon's attitude to Gaunt was one of morose suspicion. As far as possible he avoided encounters, but on the rare occasions when they met, his behaviour was remarkable. He was not content to remain altogether silent, but would suddenly roar out strange inquiries and statements. He asked Gaunt whether he reckoned the theatre did any good in the world and, when Gaunt replied with some heat that he did, inquired the price of seats. On receiving this information he said instantly that a poor family could live for a week on the price of a stall and that there ought to be a flat charge all over the house. Gaunt's book had gone badly that morning and his leg was painful. He became irrit 149 able and a ridiculous argument took place. "It's selfishness that's at the bottom of it/3 Simon shouted. "The actors ought to have smaller wages, see? What I reckon, the thing ought to be run for the good of everybody. Smaller wages all round." "Including the stage staff? The workmen ?" asked Gaunt. "They all ought to get the same." "Then I couldn't afford to keep your friend Colly." "I reckon he's wasting his time anyway," said Simon, and Gaunt walked away in a rage. Evidently Simon confided this conversation to Colly, who considered it necessary to apologise for his new friend. "You don't want to pay too much attention to him, sir," Colly said, as he massaged his employer's leg that evening. "He's a nice young chap. Just a touch on the red side. He's a bit funny. It's Mr. Questing that's upset the apple cart, reely." "He's an idiotic cub," said Gaunt. "What's Questing got to do with the price of stalls?" 150 "He's been talking big business, sir. Young Simon thinks he's lent a good bit to the Colonel on this show. He thinks the Colonel can't pay up and Mr. Quest ing's going to shut down on them and run the place on his pat. Young Simon's that disgusted he's taken a scunner on anything that looks like smart business." "Yes, but -- " "He's funny. I had it out with him. He told me what he'd been saying to you, and I said he'd acted very silly. 'I've been with my gentleman for ten years,' I told him, cand there's not much we don't know about the show business. I seen him when he was a small-part actor playing a couple of-coughs-and-a spit in stock,' I said, 'and he may be getting the big money, but how long'll it last ?' " "What the hell did you mean by that ?" "We're not as young as we was, sir, are we? 'You don't want to talk silly,' I said. 'Questing's one thing and my gentleman's another.' But no. 'You're no better than a flunkey,' he says. 'You're demeaning yourself.' I straightened him up about that. 'There's none of the blooming vally about me,' I says, 'I'm a dresser and make CS 6 151 up, and what I do on the side is done by me own choice. I'm in the game with my gentleman.' 'It's greed for money,' he howls, 'that's ruining the world. Big business started this war,' he says, pounds nd when we've won it us chaps that did the righting are going to have a say in the way things are run. The Questings'll be wiped right off the slate.' That's the way he talks, you see, sir. Mind, I feel sorry for him. He's got the idea that his dad and ma are going to just about conk out over this business and to his way of thinking Questing's as good as a murderer. He says Smith knows something about Questing and that's why he had to jump for it when the train come. You've had fifteen minutes on them muscles and that'll do you." "You've damned nearly flayed me alive." "Yes," said Colly, flinging a blanket over his victim and going into the next room to wash his hands. "He's morbid, is young Sim. And of course Mr. Questing's little attempts at the funny business with Miss Barbara kind of put the pot on it." Dikon, who had been clattering his typewriter, paused. 152 "What's that?" said Gaunt, suddenly alert. "Had you missed the funny business, sir?" said Colly from the next room. "Oh, yes. Quite a bit of trouble she has with him, I understand." "What did I tell you, Dikon ?" "The way I look at it," Colly went on, appearing in the doorway with a towel, "she's capable. No getting away from it, and you can't get domestic labour in this country without you pay the earth, so Questing thinks he'll do better to keep her when the old people go." "But damn it," Dikon said angrily, "this is insufferable. It's revolting." "That's right, Mr. Bell. That's what young Sim thinks. He's worked it out. Questing'll try putting in the fine work, making out he'll look after the old people if she sees it in the right light. Coo! It's a touch of the old blood-and-thunder dope, isn't it, sir ? Mortgage and all. The villain still pursued her. Only the juvenile to cast, and there, as we say in The Dream, sir, is a play fitted. I used to enjoy them old pieces." "You talk too much, Colly," said Gaunt mildly. 153 "That's right, sir. Beg pardon, I'm sure. Associating with young Mr. Claire must have brought out the latent democracy in me soul. I tell him there's no call to worry about his sister. 'It's easy seen she hates his guts,' I said, if you'll excuse me." "I'll excuse you altogether. I'm going to work." "Thank you, sir," said Colly neatly, and closed the door. He would perhaps have been gratified if he had known how accurately his speculations about Barbara were to be realised. It was on that same evening, a Thursday, nine days before the Maori concert, that Questing decided to carry forward his hitherto tentative approach to Barbara. He chose the time when, wearing a shabby bathing dress and a raincoat, she went for her four-o'clock swim in the warm lake. Her attitude towards public bathing had been settled for her by her mother. Mrs. Claire was nearly forty when Barbara was born, and her habit of mind was Victorian. She herself had grown up in an age when one ducked furtively in the ocean, surrounded 154 by the heavy bell of one's braided serge. She felt apprehensive whenever she saw her daughter drop her raincoat and plunge hastily into the lake clad in the longest and most conservative garment obtainable at the Harpoon Co-operative Stores. Only once did Barbara attempt to make a change in this procedure. Stimulated by some pre-war magazine photographs of fashionable nudities on the Lido, she thought of sun-bathing, of strolling in a leisurely, even a seductive manner down to the lake, not covered by her raincoat. She showed the magazines to her mother. Mrs. Claire looked at the welter of oiled limbs, glistening lips and greased eyelids. "I know, dear," she said, turning pink. "So very common. Of course newspaper photographers would never persuade the really, really quite to be taken, so I suppose they are obliged to fall back on these people." "But Mummy, they're not 'these people'! Look, there's ..." "Barbara darling," said Mrs. Claire in her special voice, "some day you will understand that there are folk who move in rather loud and vulgar sets> and who 155 may seem to be very exciting, and who I expect are all very rich. But, my dear,53 Mrs. Claire had added, gently, exhibiting a photograph of an enormously obese peer in bathing shorts, supported on the one hand by a famous coryphee and on the other by a fashionable prize fighter -- "my dear, they are not Our Sort.53 And she had given Barbara a bright smile and a kiss, and Barbara had stuck to her raincoat. On the occasion of his proposal, Mr. Questing, who did not care for sitting on the ground, took a camp stool to the far end of the lake, placed it behind some manuka scrub near the diving board and, fortified by a cigar, sat there until he spied Barbara leaving the house. He then discarded the cigar, and stepped out to meet her. "Well, well, well,33 said Mr. Questing. "Look who's here! How's the young lady ?33 Barbara clawed the raincoat about her and said she was very well. "That's fine,35 said Mr. Questing. "Feeling good, eh? That's the great little lass.33 He laughed boisterously and mai56 noeuvred in an agile manner in order to place himself between Barbara and the diving board. "What's your hurry?" he asked merrily. "Plenty of time for the bathing-beauty stuff. What say we have a wee chin-wag. You, Me & Co., uh ?" Barbara eyed him with dismay. What new and odious development was this? Since the extraordinary scene on the evening of Smith's accident, she had not encountered Questing alone and was almost unaware of the angry undercurrents which ran strongly through the normal course of life at Wai-ata-tapu. For Barbara was carried along the headier stream of infatuation. She was bemused with calflove, an infant disease which, caught late, is doubly virulent. Since that first meeting in the dusk, she had not seen much of Gaunt. She was so grateful for her brief rapture and, upon consideration, so doubtful of its endurance, that she made no attempt to bring about a second encounter. It was enough to see him at long intervals, and receive his greeting. Of Questing she had thought hardly at all, and his appearance at the lake surprised as much as it dismayed her. 157 "What do you want to see me about, Mr. Questing ?55 "Well, now, I seem to have the idea there's quite a lot I'd like to talk to Miss Babs about. All sorts of things,55 said Mr. Questing, dropping his voice to a fruity croon. "All sorts of things.55 "But -- would you mind -- you see I'm just going to.. ,55 "What's the big hurry?55 urged Mr. Questing, in his best synthetic American. "Wait a bit, wait a bit. The lake won't get cold. You ought to do some sun bathing. You'd look good if you bronzed, Babs. Snappy.55 Tm afraid I really can't.. .55 cLook,55 said Mr. Questing with emphasis. "I said I wanted to talk to you and what I meant was I wanted to talk to you. You've no call to act as if I'd made certain suggestions. What's the idea of all this shrinking stuff? Mind, I like it in moderation. It's old-world. Up to a point it pleases a man, but after that it's irritating and right now's the place where you want to forget it. We all know you're the pure minded type by this time, girlie. Let it go at that.55 158 cci CC1 Barbara gaped at him. "There's a camp stool behind that bush,3' he continued. "Come and sit on it. I'll say this better if I keep on my feet. Be sensible, now. You're going to enjoy this, I hope. It's a great little proposition when viewed in the correct light." Barbara looked back at the house. Her mother appeared hurrying along the verandah. She did not glance up, but at any moment she might do so and the picture of her daughter, tete-a-tete with Mr. Questing instead of swimming in the lake, would certainly disturb her. Yet Mr. Questing stood between Barbara and the lake and, if she tried to dodge him, might attempt to restrain her. Better get the extraordinary interview over as inconspicuously as possible. She walked round the manuka bush and sat on the stool; Mr. Questing followed. He stood over her smelling of soap, cigars and scented cachous. "That's fine and dandy," he said. "Have a cigarette. No ? O.K. Now, listen, honey, I'm a practical man and I like to come straight to the point, never mind whether it's business or pleasure and you might 159 « call this a bit of both. I got a proposition to put up which I think is going to interest you a whole lot, but first of all we'll clear the air of misunderstandings. Now I don't just know how far you're wise to the position between me and your dad.3' He paused, and Barbara, full of apprehension, hurriedly collected her thoughts. "Nothing!" she murmured. "I know nothing. Father doesn't discuss business with us." "Doesn't he, now? Is that the case? Very old-world in his notions, isn't he. Well, now, we don't expect ladies to take a great deal of interest in business so I won't trouble you with a lot of detail. Just the broad outline," said Mr. Questing making an appropriate gesture, "so's you'll get the idea. Now, you might put it this way, you might say that your dad's under an obligation to me." You might indeed, Barbara thought, as Mr. Questing's only too lucid explanation rolled on. It seemed that five years ago when he first came to Wai-ata-tapu to ease himself of lumbago, he had lent Colonel Claire a thousand pounds, at a low rate of interest taking the hotel and 160 springs as security. Colonel Claire was behind with the interest and the principal was now due. Mr. Questing clothed the bare bones of his narrative in a vestment of playful hints and nudges. He wasn't, he said, a hard man. He didn't want to make it too solid for the old Colonel, not he. "But just the same -- " Cliche followed cliche, business continued to be business, and more and more dubious grew the development of his theme until at last even poor Barbara began to understand him. "No!" she cried out at last. "Oh, no! I couldn't. Please don't!" "Wait a bit, now. Don't act as if I'm not making a straight offer. Don't get me all wrong. I'm asking you to marry me, Babs." "Yes, I know, but I can't possibly. Please!" "Don't run away with the idea it's just a business deal. It's not." Mr. Questing's voice actually faltered and if Barbara had been less frantically distracted she might have noticed that he had changed colour. "To tell you the truth I've fallen for you, kid," he continued appallingly. "I 161 don't know why, I'm sure. I like 'em snappy and kind of wise as a general rule and if you'll pardon my candour you're sloppy in your dress and, boy, are you simple! Maybe that's exactly why I've fallen. Now don't interrupt me. I'm not dizzy yet and I know you're not that way about me. I don't say I'd have asked you if I hadn't got a big idea you'd run this joint damn well when I showed you how. I don't say I haven't put you on the spot where it's going to be hard to say no. I have. I knew where I could get in the fine work, seeing how your old folks are placed, and I got it in. I'll use it all right. But listen, little girl!"-- Mr. Questing on a sudden note of fervour breathed out his final cliche-- "I want you," he said hoarsely. To Barbara the whole speech had sounded nightmarish. She quite failed to realise that Mr. Questing thought on these standardised lines and spoke his commonplaces from a full heart. It was the first experience of its kind that she had endured, and he seemed to her a terrible figure, half-threatening, half amorous. When she forced herself to 162 look up and saw him in his smooth pale suit, himself pale, slightly obese and glistening, and found his eyes fixed rather greedily upon hers, her panic mounted to its climax, and she thought: "I shan't like to refuse. I must get away." She noticed that his expensive watch chain was heaving up and down in an agitated rhythm about two feet away from her nose. She sprang to her feet and, as if she had released a spring in Mr. Questing, he flung his arms about her. During the following moments the thing she was most conscious of was his stertorous breathing. She brought her elbows together and shoved with her forearms against his waistcoat. At the same time she dodged the face which thrust forward repeatedly at hers. She thought: "This is frightful. This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I'm hating this." Mr. Questing muttered excitedly: "Now, now, now," and they tramped to and fro. Barbara tripped over the camp stool and rapped her shin. She gave a little yelp of pain. And upon the scene came Simon and Dikon. 163 II Gaunt had announced that he would do no work after all and Dikon, released from duty, decided to go for a walk in the direction of the Peak. He had an idea that he would like to see for himself the level crossing and the bridge where Smith had his escape from the train. He found Simon and asked him to point out the short cut to the Peak road. Simon, most unexpectedly, offered to go with him. They set out together along the path that ran past the springs and lake. They had not gone far before they heard a confused trampling and a sharp cry. Without a word but on a single impulse, they ran forward together and Barbara was discovered in Mr. Questing's arms. Dikon was an over-civilised young man. He belonged to a generation whose attitude of mind was industriously ironic. He could accept scenes that arose out of crises of the nerves, they were a commonplace of the circle into which his association with Gaunt had introduced him. It was inconceivable that any young woman of those circles would be unable to cope 164 with the advances of a Mr. Questing or, for a matter of that, fail to lunch and dine off such an attempt when she had dealt with it. Dikon's normal reaction to Barbara's terror would perhaps have been a feeling of incredulous embarrassment. After all they were within a few hundred yards of the house in broad daylight. It was up to her to cope. He could never have predicted the impulse of pure anger that flooded through him, and he had time actually to feel astonished at himself. It was not until afterwards that he recognised the complementary emotion which arose when Barbara ran to her brother. Dikon realised then that he himself was a lay figure and felt a twinge of regret that it was so. Simon behaved with more dignity than might have been expected of him. He put his arm across his sister's shoulders and in his appalling voice said: "What's up, Barbie?" When she did not answer he went on: "I'll look after this. You cut along out of it." "Hey!" said Mr. Questing. "What's the big idea ?" "It's nothing, Sim, it's all right, really." 165 Simon looked over her shoulder at Dikon. "Fix her up, will you?" he said, and Dikon answered: "Yes, of course," and wondered what was expected of him. Simon shoved her, not ungently, towards him. "Great hopping fleas," Mr. Questing expostulated, "what's biting you now! There's not a damn thing a man can do in this place without you all come milling round like magpies. You're crazy. I try to get a little private yarn with Babs and you start howling as if it was the Rape of the What-have-you Women." "Go and boil your head," said Simon. "And Barbie, you buzz off." "I really think you'd better," Dikon said, realising that his function was to remove her. She murmured something hurriedly to Simon and turned away. "All right, all right," said Simon, "don't you worry." They left Simon and Questing glaring at each other in ominous silence. Dikon followed her along the path. She started off at a great rate, with her head high, clutching her raincoat about her. They had gone some little way before he saw that her shoulders were quivering. 166 He felt certain that all she wanted of him was to leave her to herself, but he could not make up his mind to do this. As they drew nearer to the house they saw Colonel and Mrs. Claire come out on the verandah and begin to set up their deck chairs. Barbara stopped short and turned. Her face was stained with tears. "I can't let them see/3 she said. "Come round by the other path." It was a track that skirted the springs and came out near the cabins. A brushwood fence screened it from the verandah. Halfway along, Barbara faltered, sat on the bank, buried her face in her arms and cried most bitterly. "Oh God, I'm sorry," said Dikon confusedly. "Have my handkerchief. I'll turn my back, shall I ? Or shall I ?" She took the handkerchief with a woebegone attempt at a smile. He sat beside her and put his arm around her. "Never mind," he said. "He's quite preposterous. A ridiculous episode." "It was beastly." "Well, confound the fellow, anyway, for upsetting you." "It's not only that. He -- he -- " 167 Barbara hesitated and then with a most dejected attempt at her trick of overemphasis sobbed out: "He's got a hold on us." "So Colly was right,55 Dikon thought. "It is the old dope.55 "If only Daddy had never met him! And what Sim's doing now, I can't imagine. If Sim loses his temper he's frightful. Oh dear,55 said Barbara blowing her nose very loudly on Dikon's handkerchief, "what have we all done that everything should go so hideously wrong with us ? Really, it's exactly as if we dotted scenes about the place like booby traps for Mr. Gaunt and you. And he was so heavenly about the other time, pretending he didn't mind.55 "It wasn't a pretence. He told you the truth when he said he adored scenes. He does. He even uses them in his work. Do you remember in the Jane Eyre, when Rochester, without realising what he did, slowly wrung the necks of Jane's bridal flowers ?55 "Of course I do,55 said Barbara eagerly. "It was terrible but sort of noble.55 cHe got it from a drunken dresser who 168 «i flew into a rage with the star she looked after. She wrenched the heads off one of the bouquets. He never forgets things like that.35 "Oh." "You're feeling a bit better now ?" "A bit. You're very kind, aren't you ?" said Barbara rather as if she saw Dikon for the first time. "I mean, to take trouble over our frightfulness." "You must stop being apologetic," Dikon said. "So far I've taken no trouble at all." "You listen nicely," Barbara said. "I'm almost ghoulishly discreet, if that's any recommendation." "I do so wonder what Sim's doing. Can you hear anything ?" "We've come rather far away from them to hear anything. Unless, of course, they begin to scream in each other's faces. What would you expect to hear? Dull thuds ?" "I don't know. Listenl" "Well," said Dikon after a pause, "that was a dull thud. Do you suppose that Mr. Questing has been felled to the ground for the second time in a fortnight ?" 169 cTm afraid Sim's hit him." "I'm afraid so too," Dikon agreed. "Look." From where they sat they could see the patch of manuka scrub. Mr. Questing appeared, nursing his face in his handkerchief. He came slowly along the main path and as he drew nearer they saw that his handkerchief was dappled red. CCA dong on the nose, by gum,35 said Dikon. When he arrived at the intersection, Mr. Questing paused. "I'm going-- He'll see me. I can't -- " Barbara began, but she was too late. Mr. Questing had already seen them. He advanced a short way down the side path and, still holding his handkerchief to his nose, addressed them from some considerable distance. "Look at this," he shouted. "Is it a swell set-up, or is it? I like to do things in a refined way and here's what I get for it. What's the matter with the crowd around here? Ask a lady to marry you and somebody hauls off and half kills you. I'm going to clean this dump right up. Pardon me, Mr. Bell, for intruding personal affairs." 170 "Not at all, Mr. Questing/3 said Dikon politely. Mr. Questing unguardedly removed his handkerchief and three large red blobs fell on his short front. "Blast!53 he said violently and staunched his nose again. "Listen, Babs,33 he continued through the handkerchief. "If you feel like changing your mind, I won't say the offer's closed, but if you want to do anything you'll need to make it snappy. I'm going to pack them up, the whole crowd of them. I'll give the Colonel till the end of the month and then out. And, by God, if I'd got a witness I'd charge your tough young brother with assault. By God, I would. I'm fed up. I'm in pain and I'm fed up.35 He goggled at Dikon over the handkerchief. "Apologising once again, old man,33 said Mr. Questing, "and assuring you that you'll very shortly see a big change for the better in the management of this bloody dump. So long, for now.33 Ill Long after the events recorded in this tale were ended, Dikon, looking back at the first fortnight at Wai-ata-tapu, would 171 reflect that they had suffered collectively from intermittent emotional hiccoughs. For long intervals the daily routine would be uninterrupted and then, when he wondered if they had settled down, they would be convulsed and embarrassed by yet another common spasm. Not that he ever believed, after Mr. Questing's outburst, that there was much hope of the Claires settling back into their old way of life. It seemed to Dikon that Mr. Questing had been out for blood. A marked increase in Colonel Claire's vagueness, together with an air of bewildered misery, suggested that he had been faced with an ultimatum. Dikon had come upon Mrs. Claire on her knees before an old trunk, shaking her head over Edwardian photographs and aimlessly arranging them in heaps. When she saw him she murmured something about clinging to one's household gods wherever one went. Barbara, who had taken to confiding in Dikon told him that she had sworn Simon to secrecy over the incident by the lake, but that Questing had been closeted with her father for half an hour, still wearing his bloodstained shirt, and had no doubt given the 172 Colonel his own version of the affray. Dikon had described the scene by the lake to Gaunt, and halfway through the recital, wished he had left it alone. Gaunt was surprisingly interested. "It really is most intriguing," he said, rubbing his delicate hands together. "I was right about the girl, you see. She has got something. I'm never mistaken. She's incredibly gauche, she talks like a madwoman, and she grimaces like a monkey. That's simply because she's raw, uncertain of herself. It's the bone one should look at. Show me good bone, and a pair of eyes, give me a free hand, and I'll create beauty. She's roused the unspeakable Questing, you see." "But Questing has his eye on the place.55 "Nobody, my dear Dikon, for the sake of seven squalid mud puddles is going to marry a woman who doesn't attract him. No, no, the girl's got something. I've been talking to her. Studying her. I tell you I'm never mistaken. You remember that understudy child at the Unicorn? I saw there was something in her. I told the management. She's never looked back. It's a flair one has. I could . . ." Gaunt i?3 paused, and took his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "It would be rather fun to try," he said. With a sensation of panic, Dikon said: "To try what, sir ?" "Dikon, shall I make Barbara Claire a present ? What was the name of the dress shop we noticed in Auckland? Near the hotel ? Quite good ? You must remember. A ridiculous name/5 "I don't remember." "Sarah Snappe! Of course. Barbara shall have a new dress for this Maori concert on Saturday. Black, of course. It must be terribly simple. You can write at once. No, perhaps you should go to Harpoon and telephone, and they must put it on tomorrow's train. There was a dress in the window, woollen with a dusting of steel stars. Really quite good. It would fit her. And ask them to be kind and find shoes and gloves for us. If possible, stockings. You can get the size somehow. And underclothes, for God's sake. One can imagine what hers are like. I shall indulge myself in this, Dikon. And we must take her to a hairdresser and stand over him. I shall make her up. If Sarah i?4 Snappe doesn't believe you're my secretary you can ring up the hotel and do it through them.33 Gaunt beamed at his secretary. "What a child I am, after all. Dikon, aren't I ? I mean this is going to give me such real pleasure." Dikon said in a voice of ice: "But it's quite impossible, sir." "What the devil do you mean !33 "There's no parity between Barbara Claire and an understudy at the Unicorn.35 "I should damn well say there wasn't. The other little person had quite a lot to start with. She was merely incredibly vulgar.33 "Which Barbara Claire is not,33 said Dikon. He looked at his employer, noted his air of peevish complacency and went on steadily. "Honestly, sir, the Claires would never understand. You know what they're like. A comparative stranger to offer their daughter clothes !33 "Why the hell not ?33 "It just isn't done in their world.33 "You've become maddeningly class conscious all of a sudden, my good Dikon. What is their world, pray ?33 'Shall we say proudly poor, sir ?33 175 CC( "The suspicious-genteel., you mean. The incredibly, the insultingly stupid bourgeoisie who read offence in a kindly impulse. You wish me to understand that these people would try to snub me, don't you ?" "I think they would be very polite,5' Dikon said, and tried not to sound priggish, "but it would, in effect, be a snub. I'm sure they would understand that your impulse was a kind one." Gaunt's face had bleached. Dikon, who knew the danger signals, wondered in a panic if he was about to lose his job. Gaunt walked to the door and looked out. With his back still turned to his secretary he said: "You will go into Harpoon and give the order over the telephone. The bill is to be sent to me, and the parcel to be addressed to Miss Claire. Wait a moment." He went to his desk and wrote on a slip of paper. "Ask them to write out this message and put it in the parcel. No signature, of course. You will go at once, if you please." "Very well, sir," said Dikon. Filled with the liveliest misgivings he went out to the car. Simon was in the garage. Gaunt had been granted a i76 traveller's petrol license and Simon had offered to keep the magnificent car in order. Gloating secretly, he would spend hours over slight adjustments; cleaning, listening, peering. "I still reckon we might advance the spark a bit,53 he said without looking at Dikon. "I'm going into Harpoon," said Dikon. "Would you care to come ?" "I don't mind." Dikon had learned to recognise this form of acceptance. "Jump in then," he said. "You can drive.5' "I won't come at that." "Why not ?" "She's not my bus. Not my place to drive her." "Don't be an ass. I've got a free hand and I'm asking you. You can check up the engine better if you're driving, can't you ?" He saw desire and defensiveness struggling together in Simon. "Get on with it," he said and sat firmly in the passenger's place. They drove round the house and up the abominable drive. Dikon glanced at Simon and was touched by his look of inward 177 cci happiness. He drove delicately and with assurance. cc< 'Running well, isn't she ?" asked Dikon. :She's a trimmer," said Simon. As the car gathered speed on the main road he lost his customary air of mulishness and gained a kind of authority. Bent on dismissing the scene with Gaunt from his thoughts, Dikon lured Simon into talking about his own affairs, his impatience to get into uniform, his struggles with Morse, his passionate absorption with the war in the air. Dikon thought how young Simon would have seemed among English youth of his own age and how vulnerable. "I'm coming on with the old dahdah-dit, though/' Simon said. "I've made my own practice transmitter. It's got a corker fulcrum, too. I'm not so hot at receiving yet, but I can get quite a bit of the stuff on the shortwave. Nearly all code, of course, but some of it's straight English. Gosh, I wish they'd pull me in. It's a blooming nark the way they keep you hanging about." "They'll miss you on the place." "We won't be on the place much longer, don't you worry. Questing'll look after 178 that. By cripey, I sometimes wonder if it's a fair pop, me going away when that bloke's hanging round." They drove on in silence for a time and then, without warning, Simon burst into a spate of bewildered protest and fury. It was difficult to follow the progress of his ideas: Questing's infamy, the Colonel's unworldliness, Barbara's virtue, the indignation of the Maori people, and the infamy of big business and vested interests were inextricably mixed together in his discourse. Presently, however, a new theme appeared. "Uncle James," said Simon, "reckons the curio business is all a blind. He reckons Questing's an enemy agent." . Dikon made a faint incredulous noise. "Well, he might be," said Simon combatively. "Why not ? You don't kid yourself they haven't got agents in New Zealand, do you ?" "Somehow he doesn't strike me as the type." "They don't knock round wearing masks and looking tough," Simon pointed out with an unexpected touch of his uncle's acerbity. "I know, I know. It's only that one hears such a lot of palpable nonsense 179 about spies that the whole idea is suspect. Like arrow poison in a detective story. Why does Dr. Ackrington think -- " "I don't get the strength of it myself. He wouldn't say much. Only dropped hints that we needn't be sure Questing'd kick Dad off the place. Were you in this country when the Hippolyte was torpedoed ?" "No. We heard about it, of course. It was a submarine, wasn't it ?" "That's right. The Hippolyte put out from Harpoon at night. She went down in sight of land. Uncle James reckoned at the time that the raider got the tip from someone on shore." "Questing ?" said Dikon, and tried very hard to keep the note of scepticism from his voice. "Yeah, Questing. Uncle James dopes it out that it's been Questing's idea to get this place on his own ever since he lent Dad the money. He reckons he's been acting as an agent for years and that he'll use the Springs as his headquarters with bogus patients and as likely as not a secret transmitting station." "Oh, Lord!" 180 "Well, anyway he's acted pretty crook, hasn't he? I don't think it's so funny. And if the old dead-beats at Home hadn't been too tired to take notice, perhaps we wouldn't have been looking so silly now," Simon added vindictively. "Chaps like Questing ought to be cleaned right up, I reckon. Out of it altogether. What'd they do with them in Russia ? Look here," Simon continued, "I'll tell you something. The night before the Hippolyte went down there was a light flashing on the Peak. Some of the chaps over at the Kainga, Eru and Rewi Te Kahu and that gang, had gone out in a boat from Harpoon and they said they saw it. Uncle James has seen it since. Everybody knows there's a reinforcement sailing any time now. What's Questing doing, where does he go half the time ? He's messing round on the Peak, isn't he ? Why did he try to put Bert Smith under the train ?" Dikon attempted to speak and was firmly talked down. "Accident my foot," said Simon. "He ought to be charged with attempted murder. The police round here seem to think they amount to something. I reckon they don't know they're born." 181 "Well," Dikon said mildly, "what action do you propose to take ?" "There's no need to be sarcastic," Simon roared out. "If you want to know what I'm going to do I'll tell you. I'm going to stay up at nights. If Questing goes out I'll slip after him and I'll watch the Peak. My Morse'11 be good enough for what he does. It'll be in code, of course, but if it's Morse he's using I'll spot it. You bet I will, and by gum I'll go to the station at Harpoon and if they don't pull him in on that I'll charge him with attempted murder." "And if they don't care for that either ?" "I'll do something," said Simon. "I'll do something" 182 CHAPTER SIX Arrival of Septimus Falls FRIDAY, the day before the concert, marked the beginning of a crescendo in the affairs of Wai-ata-tapu. It began at breakfast. The London news bulletin was more than usually ominous and the pall of depression that was in the background of all New Zealanders' minds at that time seemed to drag a little nearer. Colonel Claire, looking miserable, ate his breakfast in silence. Questing and Simon were both late for this meal, and one glance at Simon's face convinced Dikon that something had happened to disturb him. He had black marks under his eyes and an - air of angry satisfaction. Mr. Questing, too, looked as if he had not slept well. He spared them his customary sallies of matutinal playfulness. Since their drive to Harpoon two days ago, Dikon had tried to adjust his idea of Mr. Questing to that of a paid enemy agent. He had even kept awake for an hour or two beyond his usual time watching the CS7 183 face of Rangi's Peak. But, although Mr. Questing announced his intention each night of dining at the hotel in Harpoon and had not returned when the rest of the party went to bed, the Peak changed from wine to purple and from purple to black outside Dikon's window and no points of light had pricked its velvet surface. At last he lost patience with watching and fell asleep. On both mornings he awoke with a dim recollection of hearing a car come round the house to the garage. Simon, he knew, had watched each night and he felt sure that the second vigil had been fruitful. Dikon fancied that Questing had delivered a final notice to the Claires, as at Friday's breakfast they bore an elderly resemblance to the Babes in the Wood. They ate nothing and he caught them looking at each other with an air of bewilderment and despair. Smith, who seemed to be really shaken by his jump from the bridge, breakfasted early, a habit that kept up the tradition that he worked for his keep. The general atmosphere of discomfort and suspense was aggravated by the behaviour of Huia, who, after placing a plate of porridge before Dr. Ackrington, burst into tears and ran howling from the room. "What the devil's the matter with the girl ?" he demanded. "I've said nothing." "It's Era Saul," said Barbara. "He's been waiting for her again when she goes home. Mummy." "Yes, dear. Ssh!" Mrs. Claire leant towards her husband and said in her special voice: "I think, dear, that you should speak to young Saul. He's not the desirable type." "Oh, damn!" muttered the Colonel. Mr. Questing pushed his chair back and walked quickly from the room. "That's the joker you ought to speak to, Dad," said Simon, jerking his head at the door. "You've only got to look at the way he carries on with — " "Please, dear!" said Mrs. Claire, and the party relapsed into silence. Gaunt breakfasted in his room. On the previous evening he had been restless and irritable, unable to work or read. He had left Dikon to his typewriter and, on an unaccountable impulse, elected to drive himself along the appalling coastal road i85 to the north. He was in a state of excitement which Dikon found ridiculous and disturbing. During six years of employment Dikon had found their association pleasant and amusing. His early hero-worship of Gaunt had long ago been replaced by a tolerant and somewhat detached affection, but ten days at Wai-ata-tapu had wrought an alarming change in this attitude. It was as if the Claires, muddle-headed, gentle, and perhaps a little foolish, had proved to be a sort of touchstone to which Gaunt had been brought and found wanting. And yet Dikon, distressed by this change, could not altogether agree with his own judgement. It was the business of the dress for Barbara, he recognised, that had irritated him most. He had accused Gaunt of a gross error in taste and yet he himself had learnt to mistrust and deride the very attitude of mind that the Claires upheld. Was it not, in fact, an ungenerous attitude that forbade the acceptance of a generous gift, an attitude of self-righteous snobbism ? And exploring unhappily the backwaters of his own impulses he asked himself finally if perhaps he resented the gift because he was not the author of it. 186 The rural mail car passed along the main highway at about eleven o'clock in the morning, and any letters for the Springs were left in a tin post box on the top gate. Parcels too big for the box were merely dumped beneath it. The morning was overcast and Gaunt was in a fever lest the Claires should delay the trip to the gate and the parcel from Sarah Snappe be rained upon. Dikon gathered that the gift was to remain anonymous but doubted Gaunt's ability to deny himself the pleasure of enacting the part of fairy godfather. "He will drop some arch hint and betray himself," Dikon thought angrily. "And even if she refuses the blasted dress she'll be more besotted on him than ever." After breakfast Mrs. Claire and Barbara, assisted in a leisurely manner by Huia, bucketed into their household duties with their customary air of laying back their ears and rushing their fences. Simon, who usually fetched the mail, disappeared and presently it began to rain. "The oaf!" Gaunt fulminated. "He will lurch up the hill an hour late and bring down a mess of repellent pulp." "I can go up if you like, sir. The man i87 always sounds his horn if he has anything for us. I can go as soon as I hear it.5' "They would guess that we expected something. Even Colly -- No, they must fetch their own detestable mail. She must receive her parcel at their hands. I want to see it, though. I can stroll out for my own letters. Good God, a second deluge is descending upon us. Perhaps, after all, Dikon, you had better go for a stroll and casually pick up the mail." Dikon looked at the rods of water that now descended with such force that they spurted oif the pumice in fans, and asked his employer if he did not think it would seem a little eccentric to stroll in such weather. "Besides, sir," he pointed out, "the mail car cannot possibly arrive for two hours and my stroll would be ridiculously protracted." "You have been against me from the outset," Gaunt muttered. "Very well, I shall dictate for an hour." Dikon followed him indoors, sat down, and produced his shorthand pad. He was dying to ask Simon if he had succeeded in his vigil. Gaunt walked up and down and began 188 to dictate. "The actor" he said, "is a modest warm-hearted fellow. Being, perhaps, more highly sensitised than his fellow man lie is more sensitive ..." Dikon hesitated. "Well, what's wrong with that?" Gaunt demanded. "Sensitised, sensitive /" "Death and damnation! . . . he is more responsive, then, to the more subtle..." "More, sir, and more" "Then delete the second more. How often am I to implore you to make these partly amendments without disturbing me? ... to the subtle nuances, the delicate halftones of emotion. I had always been conscious of this gift, if it is one, in myself." "Do you mind repeating that, sir? The rain makes such a din on the iron roof I can scarcely hear you. I got the subtle nuances." "Am I, then, to compose at the full pitch of my lungs ?" "I could trot after you with my little pad in my hand." "A preposterous suggestion." "It's leaving off, now." The rain stopped with abruptness of subtropical downpours, and the ground 189 and roofs of Wai-ata-tapu began to steam. Gaunt became less restive and the dictation proceeded along lines that Dikon, in his new mood of open-eyed criticism, considered all too typical of almost any theatrical autobiography. But perhaps Gaunt would rescue his book by taking a line of defiant egoism. He seemed to be drifting that way. There was a growing flavour of: "This is the life story of a damn5 good actor who isn't going to spoil it with gestures of false modesty"; a fashionable attitude and no doubt Gaunt had decided to adopt it. At ten o'clock Gaunt went down to the springs with Colly in attendance, and Dikon hurried away in search of Simon. He found him in his cabin, a scrupulously tidy room where wireless magazines and textbooks were set out on a working bench. He was in consultation with Smith, who broke off in the middle of some mumbled recital and with a grudging acknowledgement of Dikon's greeting sloped away. In contrast to Smith, Simon appeared to be almost cordial. Dikon was not quite sure how he stood with this curious young man, but he had a notion that his passive 190 acceptance of the role cast for him in the lake incident as the remover of Barbara, and his suggestion that Simon should drive the car, had given him a kind of status. He thought that Simon disapproved of him on general principles as a parasite and a freak, but didn't altogether dislike him. "Here!" said Simon. "Can you beat it? Questing's been telling Bert Smith he won't put him off after all, when he cleans us up. He's going to keep him on and give him good money. What d'you make of that ?" "Sudden change, isn't it ?" "You bet it's sudden. D'you get the big idea, though ?" "Does he want to keep him quiet?5' Dikon suggested cautiously. "I'll say! Too right he wants to keep him quiet. He's windy. He's had one pop at rubbing Bert out and he's made a mess of it. He daren't come at that game again so he's trying the other stuff. 'Keep your mouth shut and it's O.K. by me.' " "But honestly -- " "Look, Mr. Bell, don't start telling me it's 'incredible'. You've been getting round 191 with theatrical sissies for so long you don't know a real man when you see one." "My dear Claire," said Dikon with some heat, "may I suggest that speaking in the back of your throat and going out of your way to insult everybody that doesn't is not the sole evidence of virility. And if real men spend their time trying kill and bribe each other, I infinitely prefer my theatrical sissies." Dikon removed his spectacles and polished them with his handkerchief. "And if," he added, "you mean what I imagine you mean by 'sissies', allow me to tell you you're a liar. And further more, don't call me Mr. Bell. I'm afraid you're an inverted snob." Simon stared at him. "Aw, Dikon!" he said at last, and then turned purple. "I'm not calling you by your Christian name," he explained hurriedly. "That's a kind of expression. Like you'd say, 'Come offit.' " "Oh. 33 "And a sissy is just a chap who's kind of weak. You know. Too tired to take the trouble. English!" "Like Winston Churchill ?" cAw, to hell!" roared Simon, and then 192 « grinned. "All right, all right!" he said. "You win. I apologise." Dikon blinked. "Well," he said sedately, "I call that very handsome of you. I also apologise. And now, do tell me the latest news of Questing. I swear I shan't boggle at sabotage, homicide, espionage, or incendiarism. What, if anything, have you discovered ?" Simon rose and shut the door. He then shoved a packet of cigarettes at Dikon, leant back with his elbows on his desk and, with his own cigarette jutting out of the corner of his mouth, embarked on his story. "Wednesday night," he said, "was a wash-out. He went into Harpoon and had tea at the pub. You call it 'dinnah'. The pub keeper's a cobber of his. Bert Smith was in town and he says Questing was there all right. He gave Bert a lift home. Bert was half-shickered or he'd have been too windy to take it. He's on the booze again after that show at the crossing. It was then Questing put it up to him he could stay on after we'd got the boot. Yes, Wednesday night's out of it. But last night's different. I suppose he got his tea in town, all right, but he went over to the 193 Peak. About seven o'clock I hiked down to the level crossing -- and, by the way, that light's working O.K. I hid up in the scrub. Three hours later, along comes Mr. Questing in his bus. Where he gets the juice is just nobody's business. He steams off up the Peak road. I lit off to a possie I'd taped out before hand. It's a bit of a bluff that sticks out on the other side of the inlet. Opposite the Peak, sort of. At the end of a rocky spit. I had to wade the last bit. The Peak's at the end of a long neck, you know. The seaward side's all cliff, but you can climb up a fence line. But the near face is easy going. There's still a trace of a track the Maori people used when they buried their dead in the crater. About halfway up it twists and you could strike out from there to the seaward face. There's a bit of a shelf above the cliff. You can't see it from most places, but you can from where I was. I picked that was where he'd go. From my possie you look across the harbour to it, see ? It was a pretty solid bike ride, but I reckoned I'd make it quicker than Quest ing'd climb the Peak track. He's flabby. I had to crawl up the rock to get where I 194 wanted. Wet to the middle, I was. Did I get cold! I'll say. And soon after I'd got there she blew up wet from the sea. It was lovely." "You don't mean to say you bicycled to that headland beyond Harpoon? It must be seven miles." "Yeah, that's right. I beat Questing hands down, too. I sat on that ruddy bluff till I just about froze to the rock, and I'll bet you anything you like I never took me eyes off the Peak. I looked right across the harbour. There's a big ship in and she was loading in the blackout. Gee, I'd like to know what she was loading. I bet Bert Smith knows. He's cobbers with some of the wharfies, him and Eru Saul. Eru and Bert get shickered with the wharfies. They were shickered last night, Bert says. I don't think it's so hot going round with -- " ? "The Peak and Mr. Questing," Dikon .reminded him. "O.K. Well, just when I thought I'd been had for a mug, it started. A little point of light right where I told you on the seaward face. Popping in and out." "Could you read it?" 195 "Neow!" said Simon angrily in his broadest twang. "If it was Morse it was some code. Just a lot of r's and z's and s's. He wouldn't use plain language. You bet he wouldn't. There'd be a system of signals. A long flash repeated three times at intervals of a minute. 'Come in. I'm talking to you.' Then the message. Say five short flashes: 'Ship in port.' That'd be repeated three times. Then the day when she sails. One long flash: 'Tonight.' Two short flashes: 'Tomorrow.' Three short flashes: 'Tomorrow night.' Repeat. Then a long interval, and the whole show over again. What I reckon," Simon concluded, and inhaled a prodigious draught of smoke. "But did you, in fact, see the sequence you've described ?" With maddening deliberation Simon ground out his cigarette, made several small backward movements of his head which invested him with an extraordinary air of complacency, and said: "Six times at fifteen-minute intervals. The end signal was three flashes each time." "Was it, by George!" Dikon murmured. " 'Course I haven't got the reading 196 O.K. Maybe something quite different." "Of course." They stared at each other, a sense of companionship weaving between them. "But I'd like to know what the ship's loading," Simon said. "Was there any answering flash out at sea ? I couldn't know less about such things." "I didn't pick it. But I don't reckon she'd do anything. If it's a raider I reckon she'd come in close on the north side of the Peak, so's to keep it between herself and Harpoon, and wait to see. There's nothing but bays and rough stuff up the coast north of the Peak." "How long did you stay ?" "Till there was no more signalling. The tide was in by then. By heck, I didn't much enjoy wading back. He beat me to it coming home. Me blinking tyre had gone flat on me and I had to pump up three times. His bus was in the garage. By cripey, he's a beaut. Wait till I get him. That'll be the day." "What will you do about it ?" "Bike into town and go to the police station." "I'll ask for the car." 197 m "Heck, no. I'll bike. Here, you'd better not say anything to him." "Who ?" Simon jerked his head. "Gaunt ? I can't promise not to do that. You see we've discussed Questing so much, and Colly talks to Gaunt and you've talked to Colly. And anyway," said Dikon, "I can't suddenly begin keeping him in the dark about things. You've got a fantastic idea of Gaunt. He's -- dear me, how embarrassing the word still is -- he's a patriot. He gave the entire profit of the last three weeks' Shakespearean season in Melbourne to the war effort." "Huh," Simon grunted. "Money." "It's what's wanted. And I'd like to talk to him about last night for another reason. He took the car out after dinner. Once in a blue moon he gets a sudden idea he wants to drive. He may have noticed a light out to sea. He said he'd go up the coast road to the north." "And what he's done to the car is nobody's business. It's a terrible road. Have you looked at her ? Covered in mud and scratched all over the wings. It's not his fault he didn't burst up the back 198 axle in a pot-hole. He's a shocking driver." Dikon decided to ignore this. "What about Dr. Ackrington?" he said. "After all he was the first to suspect something. Oughtn't you to take his advice before you make a move ?" "Uncle James doesn't see things my way," said Simon aggressively, "and I don't see things his way. He thinks I'm crude and I think he's a nark and a dugout.3' "Nevertheless I think I should tell him." "I dunno where he's got to." "He's returning tomorrow, isn't he? Wait till he comes before you do anything." A motor horn sounded on the main road. "Is that the mail ?" cried Dikon. "That's right. What about it ?" Dikon looked out of the window. "It's beginning to rain again." "What of it?" "Nothing, nothing," said Dikon in a hurry. II It was Barbara, after all, who went first to get the mail. Dikon saw her run out of the house with her mackintosh over 199 her shoulders, and heard Mrs. Claire call out something about the rain spoiling the bread. Of course. It was the day for the bread, thought Dikon, who had reached the secondary stage of occupation when the routine of a household is becoming familiar. With an extraordinary sensation of approaching disaster he watched Barbara go haring up the hill in the rain. "But it's ridiculous," he told himself, "to treat a mere incident as if it was an epic. What the devil has come upon me that I can do nothing but fidget like an old woman over this damn' girl's clothes ? Blast her clothes. Either she refuses or she accepts them. Either she guesses who sent for them or she doesn't. The affair will merely become an anecdote, amusing or dull. To hell with it." The little figure ran over the brow of the hill and disappeared. Dikon, obeying orders, went to tell his employer that the mail was in. Barbara was happy as she ran up the hill. The rain was soft on her face; thin like mist, and warm. The scent of wet earth was more pungent than the reek of sulphur, and a light breeze brought a 200 sensation of the ocean across the hills. Her spirit rose to meet it, and all the impending disasters of Wai-ata-tapu could not check her humour. It was impossible for Barbara to be unhappy that morning. She had received in small doses during the past week an antidote of unhappiness. With each little sign of friendliness and interest from Gaunt, and he had given her many such signs, her spirit danced. Barbara had not been protected against green-sickness by inoculations of calf-love. Unable to compete with the few neighbouring families whom her parents considered "suitable", and prevented by a hundred reservations and prejudices from forming friendships with the "unsuitable", she had ended by forming no friendships at all. Occasionally she would be asked to some local festivity, but her clothes were all wrong, her face unpainted, and her manner nervous and uneven. She alarmed the young men with her gusts of frightened laughter and her too eager attentiveness. If her shyness had taken any other form she might have found someone to befriend her, but as it was she hovered on the outside of every group, making her hostess uneasy 201 or irritable, refusing to recognise the rising misery of her own loneliness. She was happier when she was no longer invited and settled down to her course of emotional starvation, hardly aware, until Gaunt came, of her sickness. How, then, could the financial crisis, still only half-realised by Barbara, cast more than a faint shadow over her new exhilaration ? Geoffrey Gaunt smiled at her, quiet prim Mr. Bell sought her out to talk to her. And, though she would never have admitted it, Mr. Quest ing's behaviour, odious and terrifying as it had been at the time, was not altogether ungratifying in retrospect. As for his matrimonial alternative to financial disaster, she contrived to hide the memory of it under a layer of less disturbing recollections. The parcel from Sarah Snappe lay under the mail box, half obscured by tussock and loaves of bread. At first she thought it had been left there by mistake, then that it was for Gaunt or Dikon Bell; then she read her own name. Her brain skipped about among improbabilities. Unknown Auntie Wynne had sent another lot of alien and faintly squalid cast-offs. This was the first of her conjectures. Only when 202 she was fumbling with the wet string did she notice the smart modern lettering on the label and the New Zealand stamps and postmark. It lay under folds of tissue paper, immaculately folded. She might have knelt there in the wet grass for much longer if a gentle drift of rain had not dimmed the three steel stars. With a nervous movement of her hands she thrust down the lid of the box and pulled the wrapping paper over it. Still she knelt before it, haloed in mist, bewildered, her hands pressed upon the parcel. Simon came upon her there. She turned and looked at him with a glance half-radiant, half-incredulous. "It's not meant for me,5' she said. He asked what was in the parcel. By this time she had taken off her mackintosh and wrapped the box in it. "A black dress," she said, "With three stars on it. Other things, underneath. Another box. I didn't look past the dress. It's not meant for me.3' cAunt Wynne." 'It's not one of Auntie Wynne's dresses. It's new. It came from Auckland. There must be another Barbara Claire." 203 «i CO "You're nuts/' said Simon. "I suppose she's sent the money or something. Why the heck have you taken your mac off? You'll get wet.33 Barbara rose to her feet clutching the enormous package. "It's got my name on it. Barbara Claire, Wai-ata-tapu Spa, via Harpoon. There's an envelope inside, too, with my name on it.5' "What was in it ?" "I didn't look." "You're dopey." "It can't be for me." "Gee whiz, you're mad. Here, what about the bread and the rest of the mail ?" "I didn't look." "Aw, hell, you're mad as a meat axe." Simon opened the letter box. "There's a postcard from Uncle James. He's coming back tonight. A telegram for Mum from Auckland. That's funny. And a whole swag for the boarders. Yes, and look at the bread kicking round in the dirt. No trouble to you. Wait on." But Barbara, clutching the parcel, was running down the hill in the rain. Gaunt waited on the verandah in his dressing-gown; "very dark and magnifi 204 cent/3 thought Dikon maliciously. Whatever the fate of the dress, whatever Barbara's subsequent reaction. Gaunt had his reward, Dikon thought, when she ran across the pumice and laid the parcel on the verandah table, calling her mother. "Hullo," said Gaunt. "Had a birthday ?" "No. It's something that's happened. I can't understand it." She was unwrapping the mackintosh from the parcel. Her hands, stained with housework but not yet thickened, shook a little. She unfolded the wrapping paper. "Is it china that you handle it so gingerly ?" "No. It's -- my hands!" She ran down the verandah to the bathroom. Simon came slowly across the pumice with the bread and walked through the house. "Did you tell them what to write?" Gaunt asked Dikon. "Yes." Barbara returned, shouting for her mother. Mrs. Claire and the Colonel appeared looking as if they anticipated some new catastrophe. "Barbie, not quite so noisy, my dear," said her mother. She glanced at her 205 celebrated visitor and smiled uncertainly. Her husband and her brother did not stroll about the verandah in exotic dressing gowns, but she had begun to formulate a sort of spare code of manners for Gaunt,, who, as Dikon had not failed to notice, spoke to her nicely and repeatedly of his mother. Barbara lifted the lid from her box. Her parents, making uncertain noises, stared at the dress. She took up the envelope. "How can it be for me?" she said, and Dikon saw that she was afraid to open the envelope. "Good Lord!5' her father ejaculated. "What on earth have you been buying ?" "I haven't, Daddy. It's -- " "From Auntie Wynne. How kind," said Mrs. Claire. "That's not Wynne's writing," said the Colonel suddenly. "No." Barbara opened the envelope and a large card fell on the black surface of the dress. The inscription in green ink had been written across it somewhat flamboyantly and in an extremely feminine script. Barbara read it aloud. "If you accept zY, then its worth is great." 206 "That's all/5 said Barbara, and her parents began to look baffled and mulish. Simon appeared and repeated his suggestion that the Aunt had sent a cheque to the shop in Auckland. "But she's never been to Auckland," said the Colonel crossly. "How can a woman living in Poona write cheques to shops she's never heard of in New Zealand? The thing's absurd.5' "I must say/' said Mrs. Claire, "that although it's very kind of dear Wynne, I think it's always nice not to make mysteries. You must write and thank her just the same, Barbie, of course." "But I repeat, Agnes, that it's not from Wynne." "How can we tell, dear, when she doesn't write her name? That's what I mean when I say we would rather she put in a little note as usual." "It's not her writing. Green ink and loud flourishes! Ridiculous." "I suppose she wanted to puzzle us." Colonel Claire suddenly walked away, looking miserable. "Mayn't we see the dress ?" asked Gaunt. 207 Barbara drew it from the box and sheets of tissue paper fell from it as she held it up. The three stars shone again in the folds of the skirt. It was a beautifully simple dress. "But it's charming/5 Gaunt said. "It couldn't be better. Do you like it ?" "Like it ?" Barbara looked at him and her eyed filled with tears. "It's so beautiful," she said, "that I can't believe it's true." "There are more things in the box, aren't there ? Shall I hold the dress ?" He took it from her and she knelt on the chair, exploring feverishly. Dikon, whose orders had been to give Sarah Snappe carte-blanche, saw that she had taken him at his word. The shell-coloured satin was dull and heavy and the lace delicately rich. There seemed to be a complete set of garments. Barbara folded them back, lifted ah extraordinarily pert and scanty object, turned crimson in the face and hurriedly replaced it. Her mother stepped between her and Gaunt. "Wouldn't it be best if you took your parcel indoors, dear?53 she said with poise. Barbara blundered through the door with her box and, to her mother's evident dismay, 208 Gaunt folio wed, holding the dress. A curious scene was enacted in the dining room. Barbara hesitated between rapture and embarrassment, as Gaunt actually began to inspect the contents of the box while Mrs. Claire attempted to catch his attention with a distracted resume of the distant Wynne's dual office of aunt and godmother, Dikon looked on, and Simon read the morning paper. The smaller boxes were found to contain shoes and stockings. "Bless my soul,3' said Gaunt lightly. "It's a trousseau.33 Colonel Claire appeared briefly in the doorway. "It must be James,33 he said, and walked away again, quickly. "Uncle James !33 cried Barbara. "Mother, could it be Uncle James ?33 "Perhaps Wynne wrote to James,33 began her mother, and Simon said from behind his paper: "She doesn't know him.33 "She knows of him,33 said Mrs. Claire gravely. "You've got that telegram in your hand, Mum,33 said Simon. "Why don't you read it? It might have something to do with Barbie's clothes.33 "They all stared at her while she read 209 the telegram. Her expression suggested astonishment, followed by the liveliest consternation. "Oh, no," she cried out at last. "We can't have another. Oh dear !33 "What's up ?33 asked Simon. "It's from a Mr. Septimus Falls. He says he's got lumbago and is coming for a fortnight. What am I to do ?33 "Put him off.33 "I can't. There's no address. It just says 'Kindly reserve single room Friday and arrange treatment lumbago staying fortnight Septimus Falls.' Friday. Friday I" wailed Mrs. Claire. "What are we to do ? That's today.3' Ill Mr. Septimus Falls arrived by train and taxi at 4.30, within a few minutes of Dr. Ackrington, who picked up his own car in Harpoon. By some Herculean effort the Claires had made ready for Mr. Falls. Simon moved into his cabin, Barbara moved into Simon's room, Barbara's room was made ready for Mr. Falls. He turned out to be a middle-aged Englishman, tall but bent forward at a wooden angle and leaning heavily on his stick. He was good210 looking, well-mannered, and inclined to be bookishly facetious. "I'm so sorry not to give you longer warning," said Mr. Falls, grunting slightly as he came up the steps. "But this wretched incubus of a disease came upon me quite suddenly yesterday evening. I happened to see your advertisement in the paper and the doctor I consulted agreed that I should try thermal treatment." "But we have no advertisement in the papers," said Mrs. Claire. "I assure you I saw one. Unless, by any frightful chance, I'm come to the wrong Wai-ata-tapu Hot Springs. Your name is Questing, I hope ?" Mrs. Claire turned pink and replied gently: "My name is Claire, but you have made no other mistake. May I help you to your room ?" He apologised and thanked her, but added that he could still totter under his own steam. He seemed to be delighted with the dubious amenities of Barbara's room. "I can't tell you," he said in a friendly manner, "how deeply I have grown to detest suites. I have been living in hotels for six months and have become 211 so moulded to the en suite tradition that I assure you I have quite a struggle before I can bring myself to wear a spotted tie with a striped suit. It makes everything very difficult. Now this -- " he looked at Barbara's pieces of furniture, which, under the brief influence of a domestic magazine, she had painted severally in the primary colours -- "this will restore me to normal in no time." The taxi driver brought his luggage, which was of two sorts. Three extremely new suitcases consorted with a solitary small one which was much worn and covered with labels. Mrs. Claire had never seen so many labels. In addition to partially removed records of English and continental hotels, New Zealand place names jostled each other over the lid. He followed her glance and said: "You are thinking that I am 'Monsieur Traveller, one who would disable all the benefits of his own country,' and so forth. The fact is the evil brute got lost and has followed some other Falls all over the country. Would you care for the evening paper? The news, alas, is as usual." She thanked him confusedly, and retired 212 1C with the paper to the verandah where she found her brother in angry consultation with Barbara. Dikon stood diffidently in the background. "Well, old boy/' said Mrs. Claire, and kissed him warmly. "Lovely to have you with us again." "No need to cry over me. I haven't been to the South Pole," said Dr. Ackring ton, but he returned her kiss, and in the next second attacked his niece. "Will you stop making faces at me? Am I in the habit of lying? Why should I bestow raiment upon you, you silly girl ?" "But truly, Uncle James? Word of honour ?" "I believe he knows something about it!" Mrs. Claire exclaimed very archly. "Weren't we silly-billies ? We thought of a fairy godmother, but we never guessed it might be a fairy godfather at work, did we ? Dear James," and she kissed him again. "But you shouldn't." "Merciful Creator," apostrophised Dr. Ackrington, "do I look like a fairy! Is it likely that I, who for the past decade have urged this insane household the virtues of economy, and investment -- is it likely 213 that I should madly lavish large sums of money upon feminine garments ? And pray, Agnes, why are you gaping at that paper? Surely you didn't expect the war news to be anything but disastrous ?" Mrs. Claire gave him the paper and pointed silently to a paragraph in the advertisement columns. Barbara read over his shoulder: THE SPA wai-ata-tapu hot springs Visit the miraculous health-giving thermal fairyland of the North. Astounding cures wrought by unique chemical properties of amazing pools. Delightful surroundings. Homelike residential private hotel. Every comfort and attention. Medical supervision. Under new management. M. questing The paper shook in Dr. Ackrington's hand, but he said nothing. His sister pointed to the personal column. "Mr. Geoffrey Gaunt the famous English actor, is at present a guest at Wai-ata-tapu Spa. He is accompanied by Mr. Dikon Bell, his private secretary." 214 "James!" Mrs. Claire cried out. "Remember your dyspepsia, dear. It's so bad for you!" Her brother, white to the lips and trembling, presented the formidable spectacle of a man transported by rage. "After all," Mrs. Claire added timidly, "it is going to be true, dear, we're afraid. He will be manager very soon. Of course it's inconsiderate not to wait. Poor Edward — " "To hell with poor Edward!" whispered Dr. Ackrington. "Have you eyes! Can you read! Will you forget for one moment the inevitable consequences of poor Edward's imbecility, and tell me how I am to interpret THAT ?" His quivering finger pointed to the penultimate phrase of the advertisement. "Medical supervision. Medical supervision! My God, the fellow means ME!" Dr. Ackrington's voice broke into a surprising falsetto. He glared at Barbara, who immediately burst into a hoot of terrified laughter. He uttered a loud oath, crushed the newspaper into a ball, and flung it at her feet. "Certifiable lunatics, the lot of you!" he raged, and turned blindly along the verandah towards his own room. CS8 215 Before he could reach it, however, Mr. Septimus Falls, doubled over his stick, came out of his own room. The two limping gentlemen hurried towards each other. A collision seemed imminent and Dikon cried out involuntarily: "Dr. Ackrington! Look out, sir." They halted, facing each other. Mr. Falls said mellifluously: "Doctor Ackring ton ? How do you do, sir ? I was about to make inquiries. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Septimus Falls. You, I take it, are the medical superintendent." Mrs. Claire, Dikon, and Barbara drew in their breaths sharply as Dr. Ackrington clenched his fists and began to stutter. Mr. Falls, with the experimental wariness of those suffering from lumbago, straightened himself slightly and looked mildly into Dr. Ackrington's face. "I hope to benefit by your treatment," he said. "Can it possibly be Dr. James Ackrington? If so I am indeed fortunate. I had heard that New Zealand was so happy as to -- but I am sure I recognise you. The photograph in Some Aspects of the Study of Comparative Anatomy., you know. Well, well, this is the greatest pleasure." 216 y "Did you say your name was Septimus Falls ?" "Yes." "Good God." "I can hardly hope that my small activities have come to your notice." "Here!" said Dr. Ackrington abruptly. "Come to my room." 217 CTorpedo I T appears/' said Dikon later that evening, "that Mr. Falls is a sort of amateur of anatomy and that Ackring ton is his god. I am convinced that the revelation came only just in time to avert bloodshed. As it is the doctor seems prepared to suifer the adulation of his rather affected disciple." "When is Falls going to appear ?" asked Gaunt. "Why didn't he dine ?" "I understand he took old Ackrington's advice, had a prolonged stew in the most powerful of the mud baths, and retired sweating to bed. Ackrington suspects a wrong diagnosis and is going to prod his lumbar region." "A terrifying experience. He tried it on my leg. Dikon, have you ever seen anything like the transformation in that child ? She was almost beautiful with the dress in her hands. She will be quite beautiful when she wears it. How can we engineer a 218 HAPTER SEVEN visit to the hairdresser before tomorrow evening ? With any normal girl it would be automatic, but with Barbara Claire! I'm determined she shall dazzle the native audience. Isn't it a fantastic notion ? Metamorphosis at a Maori concert!" "Yes," said Dikon. "Of course, if you're going to be cantankerous." "I am not, I assure you, sir," said Dikon, and forced himself to add: "You have given her an enormous amount of pleasure." "And she suspects nothing." Gaunt looked sharply at his secretary, seemed to hesitate, and then took him by the arm. "Do you know what I'm going to do? A little experiment in psychology. I'm going to wait until she has worn her new things and everybody has told her how nice she looks, until she has been stroked and stimulated and enriched by good clothes, and then, swearing her to secrecy first, I shall tell her where they came from. What do you think she will do ?" "Break her heart and give them up ?" "Not she. My dear chap, I shall be much too charming and tactful. It is a little test 219 I have set myself. You wait, my boy, you wait." Dikon was silent. "Well, don't you think it'll work ?" Gaunt demanded. "Yes, sir. On consideration, I'm afraid I do." "What d'you mean, afraid? We're not going to have this absurd argument all over again I hope. Damn it, Dikon, you're no better than a croaking old woman. Why the devil I put up with you I don't know." "Perhaps because I try to give an honest answer to an awkward question, sir." "I don't propose to make a pass at the girl, if that's what's worrying you. You've allowed yourself to become melodrama minded, my friend. All this chat of spies and mortgages and sacrificial marriage has blunted your aesthetic judgement. You insist upon regarding a charming episode as a seduction scene on a robust scale. I repeat I have no evil designs upon Barbara Claire. I am not a second Questing." "You'd be less of a potential danger if you were," Dikon blurted out. "The little fool's not besotted on Questing. Don't you see, sir, that if you go on like this 220 the resemblance to King Cophetua will become so marked that she won't know the difference and will half expect the sequel ? She's gone all haywire over you as it is." "Nonsense," said Gaunt. But he stroked the back of his head and small complacent dints appeared at the corners of his mouth. "She can't possibly imagine that my attentions are anything but avuncular." "She won't know what to imagine," said Dikon. "She's in a foreign country." "Where the alpine ranges appear to be entirely composed of molehills." "Where, at any rate, she is altogether too much i' the sun. She's dazzled." "I'm afraid," said Gaunt, "that you are dressing up a very old emotion in a series of classy, and, if I may say so, rather priggish phrases. My good ass, you've fallen for the girl yourself." Dikon was silent, and in a moment Gaunt came behind him and shook him boisterously by the shoulders. "You'll recover," he said. "Think it over and you'll find I'm right. In the meantime I promise you need have no qualms. I shall treat her like porcelain. But I refuse to be deprived of my mission. She shall awake and sing." 221 *s With this unconvincing reassurance Dikon had to be content. They said goodnight and he went to bed. II At twenty minutes past twelve on that same night a ship was torpedoed in the Tasman Sea six miles northwest of Harpoon Inlet. She was the same ship that Simon, from his eyrie of Friday night, had watched loading in the harbour. Later, they were to learn that she was the Hokianaga., outward bound from New Zealand with a cargo of bullion for the United States of America. It was a very still night, warm, with a light breeze off the sea, and many Harpoon people said afterwards that they heard the explosion. The news was brought to Wai-ata-tapu the following morning by Huia, who rushed in with her eyes rolling and poured it out. Most of the crew were saved, she said, and had been landed at Harpoon. The Hokianaga had not yet gone to the bottom, and from the Peak it was possible, through field glasses, to see her bows pointed despairingly at the skies. Simon plunged into Dikon's room, full 222 of angry triumph, and doubly convinced of Questing's guilt. He was all for leaping on his bicycle and pedalling furiously into Harpoon. In his own words he proposed to stir up the dead-beats at the police station, and the local army headquarters. "If I'd gone yesterday like I wanted to, it wouldn't have happened. By cripey, I've let him get away with it. That was your big idea, Bell, and I hope you're tickled to death the way it's worked out." Dikon tried to point out that even if the authorities at Harpoon were less somnolent than Simon represented them to be, they would scarcely have been able in twelve hours to prevent the activities of an enemy submarine. "They might have stopped the ship," cried Simon. "On your story that you saw lights on the Peak ? Yes, I know there was a definite sequence and that it was repeated. I myself believe you're on to something, but you won't move authority as easily as that. "To hell with authority!" poor Simon roared out. "I'll go and knock Questing's bloody block off for him." "Not again," said Dikon sedately. "You 223 really can't continue in your battery of Questing. You know, I still think you should speak to Dr. Ackrington, who, you say yourself, already suspects him." In the end Simon, who seemed, in spite of his aggresiveness, to place some kind of reliance on Dikon's advice, agreed to keep away from Questing, and to tell his story to his uncle. When, however, he went to find Dr. Ackrington, it was only to discover he had already driven away in his car saying that he would probably return before lunch. "Isn't it a fair nark!5' Simon grumbled. "What's he think he's doing? Precious time being wasted. To hell with him anyway, I'll think something up for myself. Don't you go to talking, now. We don't want everyone to know." "I'll keep it under my hat," said Dikon. "Gaunt knows, of course. I told you -- " "Oh, hell!" said Simon disgustedly. Gaunt came out and told Dikon he wanted to be driven to the Peak. He offered a seat in the car to anyone who would like it. "I've asked your sister," he said to Simon. "Why don't you come too?" Simon consented ungraciously. They 224 borrowed the Colonel's field glasses and set out. It was the first time Dikon had been to Rangi's Peak. After crossing the railway line, the road ran out to the coast and thence along the narrow neck of land, at the end of which rose the great truncated cone. So symmetrical was its form that even at close quarters the mountain seemed to be the expression of some grossly simple impulse -- the impulse, one would have said, of a primordial cubist. The road ended abruptly at a gate in a barbed-wire fence. A notice, headed Native Reserve, set out a number of prohibitions. Dikon saw that it was forbidden to remove any objects found on the Peak. They were not the first arrivals. Several cars were parked outside the fence. "You have to walk from here," said Simon, and glanced disparagingly at Gaunt's shoes. "Oh, God! Is it far?" " You might think so." Barbara cut in quickly. "Not very. It's a good path and we can turn back if you don't think it's worth it." "So we can. Come on," said Gaunt with 225 an air of boyish hardihood, and Simon led the way, following the outside of the barbed-wire fence. They were moving round the flank of the Peak. The turf was springy under their feet, the air fresh with a tang in it. Some way behind them the song of a lark, a detached pin-prick of sound, tinkled above the peninsula. Soon his voice faded into thin air and was lost in the mewing of a flight of gulls who came flapping in from seawards. "I never heard those creatures," said Gaunt, "without thinking of a B.B.C. serial." He looked up the sloping flank of the mountain, to where its crater stood black against the brilliant sky. "And that's where they buried their dead ?" Barbara pointed to the natural planes of ascent in the structure of the mountain. "It looks as if they had made a rough road up to the top," she said, "but I don't think they did. It's as though the hill had been shaped for the purpose, isn't it? They believed it was, you know. Of course they haven't used it for ages and ages. At least, that's what we're told. There are stories of a secret burial up there after thepakehas came." 226 "] CC1 w cDo they never come here, nowadays ?" 'Hardly at all. It's tapu. Some of the younger ones who don't mind so much wander about the lower slopes, but they don't go into the bush and I'm sure they never climb to the top. Do they, Sim ?" "Too much like hard work," Simon grunted. "No, it's not that, really. It's because of the sort of place it is." Simon gave Dikon a gloomily significant glance. "Yeh," he said. "Do what you like up there and nobody's going to ask questions." "You refer to the infamous Questing," said Gaunt lightly. Simon glared at him and Dikon said hurriedly: "I told you I had spoken to Mr. Gaunt of our little theory." "That's right," Simon said angrily. "So now we've got to gas about it in front of everybody." "If you mean me," said Barbara, whom even the mention of Questing could not embarrass that morning. "I know all about what he's supposed to do on the Peak." Simon stopped short. "You!" he said. "What do you know?" Barbara didn't 227 answer immediately, and he said roughly: "Come on. What do you know ?" "Well, only what they're all saying about Maori curios." "Oh," said Simon. "That." Dikon spared a moment to hope that if Simon did well in the Air Force they would not make the mistake of entrusting him with secret instructions. "And I know Uncle James thinks it's something worse, and ..." She broke off and looked from one to another of the three men. Dikon blinked, Gaunt whistled, and Simon looked inescapably portentous. "Sim!" cried Barbara. "You're not thinking ... about this... the ship ? Oh, but it couldn't possibly..." "Here, you keep out of this, Barbie," said Simon in a great hurry. "Uncle James talks a lot of hooey. You want to forget it. Come on." The track, curving always to the right, now mounted the crest of a low hill. The seaward horizon marched up to meet them. In three strides their whole range of vision was filled with blue. Harpoon Inlet lay behind on their left; on their right Rangi's Peak rose from the sea in a 228 sharp cliff. The fence followed the top of this cliff, leaving a narrow path between itself and the actual verge. "If you want to see anything," said Simon, "you'll have to get up there. Do you mind heights ?" "Speaking for myself," said Gaunt, "they inspire me with vertigo, nausea, and a strongly marked impulse towards felo-de se. However, having come so far I refuse to turn back. That fence looks tolerably strong. I shall cling to it." He smiled at Barbara. "If you should happen to notice a mad glint of suicide in my eye," he said, "I wish you'd fling your arms round me and thus restore me to my nobler self." "But what about your leg, sir?" said Dikon. "How's it holding out ?" "Never you mind about my leg. You go ahead with Claire. We'll take it in our own time." Dikon, having gathered from sundry pieces of distressingly obvious pantomime on Simon's part that this suggestion met with his approval, followed him at a gruelling pace up the track. The ocean spread out blandly before them as they mounted. Dikon, unused to such exercise, 229 very rapidly acquired a pain in the chest, a stitch, and a thudding heart. Sweat gathered behind his spectacles. The smooth soles of his shoes slipped on the dry grass, and Simon's hobnailed boots threw dust into his face. "If we kick it in," said Simon presently, "we can get up to the place where I reckon I saw the signalling on Thursday night." "Oh." "The others won't come any farther than this." They had climbed to a place where the track widened and ran out to a short headland. Here they found a group of some ten or twelve men who squatted on the dry turf, chewed ends of grass and stared out to sea. Two youths greeted Simon. Dikon recognised one of them as Eru Saul. "What d'you know ?33 Simon asked. "She's out there," said Eru. "Going down quick, now. You can pick her up through the glasses." They had left the Colonel's glasses with Gaunt, but Eru lent them his. Dikon had some difficulty focusing them but eventually the hazy blue field clarified and in a 230 moment or two he found a tiny black triangle. It looked appallingly insignificant. "They've been out to see if they could salvage anything," said Eru, "but not a chance. She's packed up all right. Tough!" 'Til say/' said Simon. "Come on, Bell." Dikon returned the field glasses^ thanked Eru Saul and with feelings of the liveliest distaste meekly followed Simon up the fence line which now rose precipitously before flattening out to encompass a higher shoulder of the Peak. At last they reached a very small platform, no more than a shelf in the seaward face of the mountain. Dikon was profoundly relieved to see Simon, who was well ahead, come to a halt and squat on his heels. "What I reckon," said Simon as Dikon crawled up beside him, "he must have worked it from here." Dry-mouthed and still very shortwinded, Dikon prepared to fling himself down on the ledge. "Here!" said Simon. "Better cut that out. Stay where you are. We don't want it mucked up. Pity it rained yesterday." "And what do you expect to find, may I ( 231 ask?" asked Dikon acidly. Phsyical discomfort did not increase his tolerance for Simon's high-handedness. "Are you by any chance building on footprints? My poor fellow, let me tell you that footprints exist only on sandy beaches and in the minds of detective fiction-mongers. All that twittering about bent blades of grass and imprints slightly defaced by rain! In my opinion they do not occur.5' "Don't they?55 returned Simon combatively. "Somebody's been up this track ahead of us. Didn't you pick that ?55 "How could I 'pick' anything when you did nothing but kick dust in my glasses ? Show me a footprint and I'll believe in it. Not before.55 "Good-oh, then. There. What's that ?55 "You've just made it with your own flat foot,55 said Dikon crossly. "What if I have ? It's a print, isn't it ? Goes to show.55 "Possibly.55 Dikon wiped his glasses and peered round. "What are those things ?55 he said. "Over by the bank. Dents in the ground ?55 He pointed and Simon gave a raucous cry of triumph. "What did I tell you. 232 Prints!5' He removed his boots and crossed to the bank. "You better take a look," he said. Dikon removed his shoes. He had a blister on each heel and was glad to do so. He joined Simon. "Yes," he said. "The footprints after all, and I can tell you exactly how they would be described by the know-alls. Several confused impressions of the Booted Foot, two being more clearly defined and making an angle of approximately thirty degrees the one with the other. Distance between inside margins of heel, half an inch. Distance between position of outside margin of big toes, approximately ten inches. This latter pair of impressions was found in damp clay but had been protected from recent rain by a bank which overhung them at a height of approximately three feet. There's great virtue in the word 'approximately'.3' "Good-ow!" said Simon on a more enthusiastic inflection than he usually gave to this odious expression. "Nice work, go on." "Nails in the soles and heels. Toes more deeply indented than heels. Right foot, four nails in heel; six in sole. Left 233 foot, three in heel, six in sole. Ergo he lost a nail." "How much, he lost a nail ?" "Ergo. I'm being affected." "Huh! Yeh, well, what sort of chap is he? Does he act like Questing? Stands with his heels close together and his toes apart. Puts more weight on his toes than his heels. Say what you like, you can deduce quite a bit if you use your nut. 33 "As, for instance, he must be a dwarf." "Eye ?" "The bank overhangs the prints at a height of three feet. How could he stand ?" "Aw heck!" "Would squatting fill the bill? The other prints show where he scuffled round trying to settle." "That's right. O.K., he squatted. For a good long time." "With his weight forward on his toes," Dikon suggested. He had begun to feel mildly stimulated. "The clay was damp at the time. Yesterday's rain was easterly and hasn't got in under the bank. On Thursday night there was a light rain from the sea." 234 W: "Don't I know it ? I was away out there, don't forget." Dikon looked out to his left. The shoulder of the hill hid Harpoon and the harbour, but Simon's rock was just visible, a shapeless spot down in the blue. "If you stand on the edge you can just see the other boulders leading out to it,3' said Simon. "Thanks, I'll take your word for them." "Gee, can't you see the sand spit under the water clearly from up here? That's what it'll be like from the air. Coastal patrol work. Cripey, I wish they'd get on with it and pull me in." Simon stood on the lip of the shelf and Dikon looked at him. His chin was up. A light breeze whipped his hair back from his forehead. His shoulders were squared. Human beings gain prestige when they are seen at a great height against a simple background of sea and sky. Simon lost his uncouthness and became a significant figure. Dikon took off his glasses and wiped them. The young Simon was blurred. "I envy you," said Dikon. "Me ? What for ?" 235 "You have the right of entry to danger. You'll move out towards it. I'm one of the sort that sit pretty and wait. Blind as a bat, you know." "Tough luck. Still, they reckon this is everyone's war, don't they ?" "They do." "Lend a hand to catch this joker Questing. There's a job for you." "Quite so," said Dikon, who already regretted his digression. "What have we decided? That Questing climbed up here on Thursday night, wearing hobnailed boots. That he signalled to a U-boat information about a ship loading at Harpoon and sailing the following night? By the way, can you visualise Questing in hobnailed boots ?" "He's been mucking about on the Peak for the last three months. He must have learnt sense." "Perhaps they are hobnailed shoes. Was there moonlight on Thursday night ?" "Not after the rain came up, but he was here by then. There was, before that." "They'll have to look at all his shoes. Should we perhaps try to make a sort of record of these prints? Glare at them 236 until they leave an indelible impression on our minds and we can take oaths about them hereafter? Or shall I try to make a sketch of them ?33 "That's an idea. If they knew their business they'd take casts. I've read about that.33 "Who precisely are they ?33 asked Dikon, taking out his notebook and beginning to sketch. "The police? The army? Have we got anything approaching a secret service in New Zealand? What's the matter!33 he added angrily. Simon had uttered a loud exclamation and Dikon's pencil skidded across his sketch. "There's some bloke out here from Scotland Yard. A big pot. There was something about him in the papers a week or two back. They reckoned he'd come here to investigate fifth columnists, and Uncle James said they ought to be put in jail for giving away official secrets. By cripey, he's the joker we ought to get hold of. Go to the top if you want to get things done.3' "What's his name ?33 "That's the catch,33 said Simon. "I've forgotten.33 237 Ill Barbara and Gaunt did not go up the hill after all. They watched Simon and Dikon clinging to the fence and slipping on the short grass and friable soil. "I have decided that my leg jibs at the prospect,55 said Gaunt. "Don't you think it would be much pleasanter to go a little way towards the sea and smoke a cigarette ? This morbid desire to look at sinking ships! Isn't it kinder to let her go down alone? I feel that it would be rather like watching the public execution of a good friend. And we know the crew is safe. Don't you agree ?55 Barbara agreed, thinking that he was talking to her as if she herself was a good friend. It was the first time they had been alone together. They found a place near to the sea. Gaunt flung himself down with an air of boyish enthusiasm which would have intensely annoyed his secretary. Barbara knelt, sitting back on her heels, the light wind blowing full in her face. "Do you mind if I tell you you should always do your hair like that ?55 said Gaunt. 238 "Like this ?" She raised her hand to her head. The wind flattened her cotton dress. It might have been drenched in rain, so closely did it cling to her. She turned her head quickly, and Gaunt, as quickly, looked again at her hair. "Yes. Straight off your face and brushed fiercely back. No frizz or nonsense. Terribly simple." "Orders?53 said Barbara. It was so miraculously easy to talk to him. "Please." "I'm afraid I'll look very bony." "But that's how you should look when you have good bones. Do you know that soon after we met I told Dikon I thought you had -- but I'm making you self conscious, and that's bad manners, isn't it? I'm afraid," said Gaunt with a sort of aftermath of the Rochester manner, "that I'm accustomed to say pretty much what I think. Do you mind ?" "No," said Barbara, suddenly at a loss. It was years, Gaunt thought, since he had met a young woman who was simply shy. Nervous, or deliberately coy young women, yes; but not a girl who blushed with pleasure and was too well-mannered 239 to turn away her head. If only she would always behave like this she would be charming. He was taking exactly the right line with her. He began to talk to her about himself. Barbara was enchanted. He spoke so intimately, as if she were somebody with a special gift of understanding. He told her all sorts of things. How, as a boy in school, he had been set to read the "Eve of Crispian" speech from Henry F, and had started in the accepted wooden style which he now imitated comically for her amusement. Then, so he told her, something happened to him. The heady phrases began to ring through his voice. To the astonishment of his English master (here followed a neat mimicry of the English master) and, strange to say, the enthralment of his classmates, he gave the speech something of its due. "There were mistakes, of course. I had no technique beyond an instinctive knowledge of certain values. But -- " he tapped the breast pocket of his coat -- "it was there. I knew then that I must become a Shakespearean actor. I heard the lines as if someone else spoke them: 240 "And Crispin, Crispian shall ne'er go by From this day to the ending of the worldy But we in it shall be remembered." Gulls mewed overhead and the sea thudded and dragged at the coast, a thrilling accompaniment, Barbara thought, to the lovely words. "Isn't there any more?53 she asked greedily. "Little ignoramus! There's a lot more." He took her hand. "You are my Cousin Westmorland. Listen, my fair cousin." And he gave her the whole speech. It was impossible for him to be anything but touched and delighted by her eagerness, by the tears of excitement that stood in her eyes when he ended. He still held her hand. Dikon, limping over the brow of the hill ahead of Simon, was just in time to see him lightly kiss it. Dikon drove back with Simon, completely mum, beside him in the front seat. Gaunt and Barbara, after a few desultory questions about the wreck, were also silent, a circumstance that Dikon mistrusted, and with some reason, for Barbara 241 was lost in enchantment. One glance at her face had been all too enlightening. "Besotted," Dikon muttered to himself. "What has he been up to ? Telling her the story of his life, I don't doubt, with all the trimmings. Acting his socks off. Kissing her hand. By heaven, if the place had a second floor, before we knew where we were he'd be treating her to the balcony scene. Romeo with fibrositis! The truth is, he's reached the age when a girl's ignorance and adulation can make a fool of a man. It's revolting." But although he allowed himself to fume inwardly, he would have resented and denied such imputations against Gaunt from any outsider, for not the least of his troubles lay in his sense of divided allegiance. He reflected that, Barbara apart, he liked his employer too much to enjoy the spectacle of him making a fool of himself. When they returned to the house they found Mr. Septimus Falls and Mr. Questing sitting in deckchairs side by side on the verandah, a singular association. Dikon had implored Simon to show no signs of particular animosity when he encountered Questing, but was nevertheless very much 242 relieved when Simon grunted a word of thanks to Gaunt and walked off in the direction of his cabin. Barbara, with a radiant face, ran straight past Questing into the house. Gaunt, before leaving the car, leant forward and said: "I haven't been so delightfully entertained for years. She's a darling and she shall certainly be told who sent the dress." Dikon drove the car round to the garage. When he returned he found that Questing, having introduced Septimus Falls to Gaunt, had adopted the manner of a sort of referee or ring master. "I've been telling this gentleman all the morning, Mr, Gaunt, that you and he must get together. 'Here's our celebrated guest,' I said, 'with nobody to provide him with the correct cultural stimulus until you came along.' It seems this gentleman is a great student of the drama, Mr. Gaunt." "Really?" said Gaunt, and contrived to suggest distaste of Questing without positively insulting Falls. Falls made a deprecating and slightly precious gesture. "Mr. Questing is too generous," he said. "The merest tyro, \ 243 assure you, sir. Calliope rather than Thalia commands me." "Oh, yes ?" "There you are!" cried Mr. Questing admiringly. "And I don't even know what you're talking about. Mr. Falls has been telling me that he's a great fan of yours, Mr. Gaunt." His victims laughed unhappily and Falls, with an air of making the best of a bad business, said: "That, at least, is true. I don't believe I've missed a London production of yours for ten years or more." "Splendid," said Gaunt more cordially. "You've met my secretary, haven't you? Let's sit down for pity's sake." They sat down. Mr. Falls hitched his chair a little nearer to Gaunt's. "I've often thought I should like to ask you to confirm or refute a pet theory of mine," he said. "It concerns Horatio's very palpable lie in reference to the liquidation of Rosencrantz and Guilden stern. It seems to me that in view of your brilliant reading of Hamlet's account of the affair -- " "Yes, yes. I know what you're at. 'He never gave commandment for 244 their death' Pure whitewash. What else?" "I have always thought the line refers to Claudius. Your Horatio -- " "No, no. To Hamlet. Obviously to Hamlet." "Of course the comparison is absurd, but I was going to ask you if you had ever seen Gustav Griindgen's treatment -- " "Griindgen's? But that's Hitler's tame actor, isn't it ?" "Yes, yes." Mr. Falls made a little movement, gave a little yelp, and clapped his hand to the small of his back. "This odious complaint!" he lamented. "Yes, that is the fellow. A ridiculous performer. You never saw anything like the Hamlet, Madder and madder and madder does he grow, and they think he's marvellous. I witnessed it. Before the war, of course. Naturally." "Naturally!" said Questing with a loud laugh. "But we were speaking of the play. I have always considered --" And Mr. Falls was off on an extremely knowledgeable discussion of the minor puzzles of the play. Six years' association with Shakes pearean productions had not killed Dikon's 245 passion for Hamlet and he listened with interest. Falls was a good talker if an affected one. He had all sorts of mannerisms, nervous movements of his hands that accorded ill with his face, which was tranquil and remarkably comely. He had taken out a pipe, but, instead of lighting it, emphasised the points in his argument by knocking it out against the leg of his deck chair. "To make three acts where in the text there art five I" he said excitedly, and the dottle from his pipe flew about Mrs. Claire's clean verandah as he illustrated his theme with appropriate and angry raps on the chair leg: "Three, mind you, three, three! In God's name, why not leave the play as he wrote it ?" "But we do play it in its entirety, sometimes." "My dear sir, I know you do. I am enormously grateful as all Shakespeareans must be. Do forgive me. I am riding my hobby horse to death, and before you of all people. Arrogant presumption!" "Not a bit of it," said Gaunt cheerfully. "I've been off my native diet long enough and have developed an inordinate appetite for it. But I must say I fail to 246 see your point about the acts. Since we must abridge..." Barbara looked out of the dining-room door., saw Questing still there, and hesitated. Without pausing in his argument, Gaunt put out his hand, inviting her to join them. She sat beside Dikon on the step. "This will be good for you, my child, said Gaunt in parenthesis, and she glowed ardently. "What on earth has happened to her?" Dikon wondered. "That's the same dress, better than the others because it's simpler, but the same. She's brushed her hair back since we came in, and that's an improvement, of course, but what's happened to her? I haven't heard a hoot from the girl for days, and she's stopped pulling faces." Gaunt had begun to talk about the more difficult plays, of Troilous and Cressida, of Henry VI and finally of Measure for Measure. Falls, still beating his irritating tattoo, followed him eagerly. "Of course he was an agnostic," he cried — "the most famous of the soliloquies proves it. If further proof is needed this play provides it." "You mean Claudio ? I played him once CS9 247 as a very young actor. Yes, that speech! It's death without flattery, isn't it? It strikes cold. "Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot..." Gaunt's voice flattened out to a horrid monotone and his audience stirred uneasily. Mrs. Claire came to one of the windows and listened with a doubtful smile. Falls's pipe dropped from his hand and he leant forward. The door of Dr. Ackrington's room opened and he stood there, attentive. "Do go on," said Mr. Falls. The icy sentences went forward. « To be imprisoned in the viewless winds... 33 Mr Questing, always polite, tiptoed across the verandah, and retrieved the pipe. Falls seemed not to hear him. Questing stood with the pipe in his hand, his head on one side, and an expression of proprietary admiration on his face. "... to be worse than worst Of those that lawless and incertain thought Imagine howling" 248 A shadow fell across the pumice. Smith, unshaven and looking very much the worse for wear, appeared from the direction of the cabin, followed by Simon. They stopped dead. Smith passed a shaky hand across his face and pulled at his under lip. Simon, after a disgusted stare at Gaunt, watched Questing. Gaunt drew to the close of the short and terrifying speech. Dikon reflected that perhaps he was the only living actor who could get away with Shakespeare at high noon on the verandah of a thermal spa. That he had not embarrassed his listeners but had made some of them coldly uneasy was very apparent. He had forced them to think of death. Questing after clearing his throat, broke into loud applause, tapping Mr. Falls's pipe enthusiastically against the verandah post. "Well, well, well," cried Mr. Questing. "If that wasn't an intellectual treat! Quite a treat, Mr. Falls, wasn't it ?" "My pipe, I believe," said Mr. Falls, politely, and took it. "Thank you." He turned to Gaunt. "Of course you may lay the agnosticism of those lines at the door of character and set against them a hundred 249 others that are orthodox enough, but my own opinion -- 33 "As You Like It has always been my favourite/' said Mrs. Claire from the window. "Such a pretty play. All those lovely woodland scenes. Dear Rosalind P3 Dr. Ackrington advanced from his doorway. "With all this modern taste for psychopathological balderdash/3 he said, "I wonder you get anyone to listen to the plays." "On the contrary/3 said Gaunt stuffily, "there is a renaissance.33 Huia came out -- clanging her inevitable bell. The Colonel appeared from his study looking vaguely miserable. "Is that lunch ?33 he asked. "What have you been talking about? Sounded as if someone was making a stump speech or somethin'.33 Barbara whispered hurriedly in her father's ear. "Eh ? I can't hear you,3' he complained. "What ?33 He stared at Gaunt. "Out of a play, was it ? Good Lord.33 He seemed to be faintly disgusted, but presently an expression of complacency stole over his face. "We used to do quite a bit of theatrical 250 poodle-fakin' when I was a subaltern in India/' he said. "They put me into one of their plays once. Damn' good thing. D'you know it ? It's called Charley's Aunt." IV Throughout lunch it was obvious to Dikon that Simon was big with some new theory. Indeed, so eloquent were his glances that neither Questing nor anybody else, Dikon thought, could possibly mistake their meaning. Dikon himself was in a state of mind so confused that he seemed to be living in the middle of a rather bad dream. Anxiety about Barbara, based on an emotion which he refused to define, a disturbing change in his own attitude towards his employer, and an ever-increasing weight of apprehension which the war bred in all New Zealanders at that time -- all these elements mingled in a vague cloud of uneasiness and alarm. And then there was Questing. In spite of Simon's discoveries, in spite, even, of the witness of the torpedoed ship, Dikon still found it difficult to cast Questing for the role of spy. Indeed, he was still enough of a New Zealander to doubt the existence of enemy 251 agents in his country at all., still inclined to think that they existed only as bugaboos in the minds of tiresome old ladies and clubmen. And yet . . . mentally he ticked off the points against Questing. Had he tried to bring about Smith's destruction, and if so., why ? Why did he pretend that he had been to Pohutukawa Bay, when, as Dr. Ackrington had proved by his pitfall, he hadn't been near the place ? If he visited the Peak only to hunt for curios, why should he have six times flashed his signal of three, five, and three, from a place where obviously no curios could be buried? He couldn't help looking at Questing, at his smooth, rather naive face, his business man's clothes, his not altogether convincing air of commercial acumen. Were these the outward casings of a potential murderer, who was quietly betraying his country? Irrelevantly, Dikon thought: "This war is changing the values of my generation. There are all sorts of things that we have thought funny that we shall never think funny again." For perhaps the "first time he contemplated coldly and deliberately a possible invasion of New Zealand. As he thought, the picture clarified. An 252 emotion long dormant, rooted in the very soil of his native country, roused in him, and he recognised it as anger. He realised, finally, that he could no longer go on as he was. Somehow, no matter how uselessly, he, like Simon, must go forward to danger. It was with this new determination in his mind that he visited Simon in his cabin after lunch. "Did you guess I wanted to see you?" asked Simon. "I didn't like to drop the hint over there. He might have spotted it." "My dear old thing, the air was electric with your hints. What's occurred ?" "We've got him," said Simon. "Didn't you pick it? Before lunch? Him and his pipe ?" Dikon gaped at him. "Missed it, did you?" said Simon complacently. "And there you were sitting where you might have touched him. What beats me is why he did it. D'you reckon he's got it so much on his mind he's acting kind of automatically ?" "If I had the faintest idea what you were talking about, I might attempt to answer you." "Aren't you conscious yet ? I was sitting 253 in here trying to dope things out when I heard it. I snooped round to the corner. All through the hooey Gaunt and Falls were spilling about Shakespeare or someone. It was the same in every detail." "For pity's sake, what was the same in every detail ?" "The tapping. A long one repeated three times. Dah, dah, dah. Then five short dits. Then three shorts. Then the whole works repeated. The flashes from the cliff all over again. So what have you ?" They stared at each other. "It just doesn't make sense/' said Dikon. "Why? Why ? Why ?" "Search me." "Coincidence ?" "The odds against coincidence are long enough to make you dizzy. No, I reckon I'm right. It's habit. He's had to memorise it and he's gone over and over it in his mind before he shot the works on Thursday night. .." "Hold on. Hold on. Whose habit ?" "Aw hell," said Simon disgustedly. "You're dopey. Who the heck are we talking about ?" "We're talking about two different 254 people," said Dikon excitedly. "Questing had picked up that pipe just before you came on the scene. It wasn't Questing who tapped out your blasted signal. It was Mr. Septimus Falls." 255 CHAPTER EIGHT Concert THE telephone at Wai-ata-tapu was on a party line. The Claires' tradesmen used it, and occasionally weekend trippers who rang up to give notice of their arrival. Otherwise, until Gaunt and Dikon came, it was seldom heard. The result of housing a celebrity, however, had begun to work out very much as Mr. Questing had predicted. During the first weekend, quite a spate of visitors had arrived, ostensibly for thermal divertissements, actually, so it very soon transpired, with the object of getting a close-up view of Geoffrey Gaunt. These visitors, with an air of studied nonchalance, walked up and down the verandah, delayed over their tea, and attempted to pump Huia as to the whereabouts of the celebrity. The hardier among them came provided with autograph books which passed, by way of Barbara, from Huia to Dikon and thence to Gaunt, who, to the astonishment of Mrs. Claire, cheerfully signed every one of them. 256 He kept to his room, however, until the last of the visitors, trying not to look baffled, had lost patience and gone home. Once, but only once, Mr. Questing had succeeded in luring him on to the verandah, and on Gaunt's discovering what he was up to had been treated to such a blast of temperament as sent him back into the house nervously biting his fingers. On this particular Saturday afternoon, though there were no trippers, the telephone rang almost incessantly. Was it true that there was to be a concert that evening ? Was Mr. Geoffrey Gaunt going to perform at it ? Could one obtain tickets and, if so, were the receipts to go to the patriotic funds? So insistent did these demands become that at last Huia was dispatched over the hill for definite instructions from old Rua. She returned, laughing excitedly, with the message that everybody would be welcome. The Maori people are a kindly and easygoing race. In temperament they are so vivid a mixture of Scottish Highlander and Irishman that to many observers- the resemblance seems more than fortuitous. Except in the matter of family and tribal 257 feuds, which they keep up with the liveliest enthusiasm, they are extremely hospitable. Rua and his people were not disturbed by the last-minute transformation into a large public gathering of what was to have been a private party between themselves and the Springs. Huia, who returned with Eru Saul and an escort of grinning youths, reported that extra benches were being hurriedly knocked up, and might they borrow some armchairs for the guests of honour ? "Py korry!" said one of the youths. "Big crowd coming, Mrs. Keeah. Very good party. Te Mayor coming too, all the time more people." "Now, Maui," said Mrs. Claire gently, "why don't you speak nicely as you did when you used to come to Sunday school ?" Huia and the youths laughed uproariously. Eru sniggered. "Tell Rua we shall be pleased to lend the chairs. Did you say the Mayor was coming ?" "That's right, Mrs. Keeah. We'll be having a good party, all right." "No drink, I hope," said Mrs. Claire severely, and was answered by further 258 roars of laughter. "We don't want Mr. Gaunt to go away thinking our boys don't know how to behave, do we ?" "No fear," said Maui obligingly. Eru gave an offensive laugh and Mrs. Claire looked coldly at him. "Plenty of tea for everybody," said Maui. "That will be very nice. Well, now you may come in and get the chairs." "Grandfather's compliments," said Huia suddenly, "and he sent you this, please." It was a letter from old Rua, written in a style so urbane that Lord Chesterfield might have envied its felicity. It suggested that though the Maori people themselves did not venture to hope that Gaunt would come in any other capacity than that of honoured guest, yet they had been made aware of certain rumours from a pakeha source. If, in Mrs. Claire's opinion, there was any foundation of truth in these rumours, Rua would be deeply grateful if she advised him of it, as certain preparations should be made for so distinguished a guest. Mrs. Claire in some perturbation handed the letter over to Dikon, who took it to his employer. 259 "Translated," said Dikon, "it means that they're burning their guts out for you to perform. I'm sure, sir, you'd like me to decline in the same grand style." "Who said I was going to decline?" Gaunt demanded. "My compliments to this old gentleman, and I should be delighted to appear. I must decide what to give them." "You could fell me with a feather," said Dikon to Barbara after early dinner. "I can't imagine what's come over the man. As a general rule platform performances are anathema to him. And at a little show like this!" "Everything that's happening's so marvellous," said Barbara, "that I for one can't believe it's true." Dikon rubbed his nose and stared at her. "Why are you looking at me like that ?" Barbara demanded. "I didn't know I was," said Dikon hastily. "You're thinking I shouldn't be happy," she said with a sudden return to her owlish manner, "because of Mr. Questing and ruin staring us in the/ace." "No, no. I assure you that I'm delighted. It's only..." 260 "Yes ?" "It's only that I hope it's going to last." "Oh." She considered him for a moment and then turned white. "I'm not thinking about that. I don't believe I mind so very much. You see, I'm not building on anything. I'm just happy." He read in her eyes the knowledge that she had betrayed herself. To forestall, if he could, the hurt that her pride would suffer when it recovered from the opiate Gaunt had administered, Dikon said: "But you can build on looking very nice tonight. Are you going to wear the new dress ?" Barbara nodded. "Yes. I didn't change before dinner because of the washing-up. Huia wants to get off. But that's not what I mean about being happy..." He cut in quickly. She must not be allowed to tell him the true reason for her bliss. "Haven't you an idea who sent it to you ?" "None. Honestly. You see," said Barbara conclusively, "we don't know anyone in New Zealand well enough. You'd have to be a great friend, almost family, wouldn't you, to give a present like that ? That's what's so puzzling." 261 Mr. Questing appeared from the dining room in all the glory of a dinner jacket, a white waistcoat and his postprandial cigar. As far as anybody at the Springs knew, he had not been invited to the concert, but evidently he meant to take advantage of its new and public character. "What's all this I hear about a new dress ?" he asked genially. "I shall be late," said Barbara, and hurried into the house. Dikon reflected that surely nobody in the world but Mr. Questing would have had the gall, after what had happened by the lake, to attempt another three-cornered conversation with Barbara and himself. In some confusion, and because he could think of nothing else to say, Dikon murmured something about the arrival of an anonymous' present. Mr. Questing took it very quietly. For a little while he made no comment, and then, with a foxy look at Dikon, he said: "Well, well, well, is that so? And the little lady just hasn't got a notion where it came from ? Fancy that, now.55 "I believe," said Dikon, already re262 gretting his indiscretion, "that there is an aunt in India." "And the pretty things come from Auckland, eh ?" "I don't think I said so." "That's quite all right, Mr. Bell. Maybe you didn't," Mr. Questing conceded. "Between you and me, Mr. Bell, I know all about it." "What!" cried Dikon, flabbergasted. "You do! But how the devil... ?" "Just a little chat with Dorothy Lamour." "With ... ?" "My pet name for the Dusky Maiden," Mr. Questing explained. "Oh," said Dikon, greatly relieved. "Huia." "Where do you reckon it came from, yourself?" asked Mr. Questing with an atrocious wink. "The aunt, undoubtedly," said Dikon firmly, and on the wings of a rapid flight of fancy he added: "She's in the habit of sending things to Miss Claire who writes to her most regularly. A very likely explanation is that at some time or another Miss Claire has mentioned this shop. 263 53 «/ cOh, yeah ?" said Mr. Questing. "Accidental-doneon-purpose, sort of?" "Nothing of the kind," said Dikon furiously. "The most natural thing in the world..." "O.K., O.K., Mr. Bell. Quite so. You mustn't mind my little joke. India," he added thoughtfully. "That's quite a little way off, isn't it?" He walked away, whistling softly and waving his cigar. Dikon uttered a few very raw words under his breath. "He's guessed!" he thought. "Blast him, if he gets a chance he'll tell her." He polished his glasses on his handkerchief and stared dimly after the retreating figure of Mr. Questing. "Or will he ?" he added dubiously. II Although it had been built with European tools, the meeting house at the native settlement followed the traditional design of all Maori buildings. It was a single room surmounted by a ridged roof which projected beyond the gable. The barge boards and supporting pillars were intricately covered in the formidable mode of Polynesian art. Growing out of the ridge pole stood a 264 wooden god with out-thrust tongue and eyes of shell, squat, menacing, the symbol of the tribe's fecundity and its will to do battle. The traditional treefern poles and thatching had been replaced by timber and galvanised iron, but nevertheless, the meeting house contrived to distil a quintessence of savagery and of primordial culture. The floor space, normally left clear, was now filled with a heterogeneous collection of seats. The Claires' armchairs, looking mildly astonished at their own transplantation, were grouped together in the front row. They faced a temporarily erected stage which was decked out with tree fern, exquisitely woven cloaks, Union Jacks and quantities of fly-blown paper streamers. On the back were hung coloured prints of three kings of England, two photographs of former premiers, and an enlargement of Rua as an M.P. On the platform stood a hard-bitten piano, three chairs and a table bearing the insignia of all British gatherings, a carafe of untempting water and a tumbler. The Maori members of the audience had been present more or less all day. They 265 squatted on the floor, on the edge of the stage, on the permanent benches along the sides and all over the verandah and front steps. Among them was Eru Saul. Groups of youths collected round Eru. He talked to them in an undertone. There was a great deal of furtive giggling and sudden guffaws. At intervals Eru and his following would slouch off together and when they returned the boys were always noisier and more excited. At seven o'clock Simon, Colly and Smith arrived with three more chairs from Wai-ata-tapu. Colly and Simon stood about looking self-conscious, but Smith was at once absorbed into Eru Saul's faction. "Hey, Eru!" said Smith, who had a pair of pumps in his pocket. "Do we wind up with a dance ?" "No chance!" "No fear you don't wind up with a dance," said a woman's voice. "Last time you wind up with a dance you got tight. If you can't behave yourselves you don't have dances." "Too bad," said Smith. The owner of the voice was seated on 266 the floor with her back against the stage. She was Mrs. Te Papa, an old lady with an incredibly aristocratic head tied up in a cerise handkerchief. Over her European dress she wore, in honour of the occasion, a magnificent flax skirt. She was the leading great-grandmother of the hapu and, though she did not bother much about her title, a princess of the Te Rarawas. Being one of the last of the old regime she had a tattooed chin. From her point of vantage she was able to call full-throated greetings and orders to members of her clan as they drifted in and out or put the finishing touches to the decorations. She spoke always in Maori. If one of the younger fry answered her in English she reached forward and caught the offender a good-natured buffet. One of the oddities of contemporary Maori life may be seen in the fact that, though some of the people in outlying districts use a fragmentary and native-sounding form of English, yet they have only a rudimentary knowledge of their own tongue. At half-past seven visitors from Harpoon and the surrounding districts began to appear. Old Rua Te Kahu came in wearing 267 a feather cloak over his best suit and, with great urbanity, moved among his guests. Mrs. Te Papa rose magnificently and walked with the correct swinging gait of her youth to her appointed place. At a quarter to eight a party of five white gentlemen, unhappily dressed in dinner suits and carrying music, were ushered into a special row of seats near the platform. These were members of the Harpoon Savage Club, famous throughout the district for their rendering in close harmony of Irish ballads. The last of them, an anxious small man, carried a large black bag, for he was also a ventriloquist. They were followed by a little girl with permanently waved hair who was dressed in frills, by her fierce mother, and by a firmly cheerful lady who carried a copy of One Day When We Were Young. It was to be mixed entertainment. An observer might have noticed that while the ladies of the district exchanged many nods and smiles, occasionally pointing at each other with an air of playful astonishment, their men merely acknowledged one another by raising their eyebrows, winking, or very slightly inclining 268 their heads to one side. This procedure changed when the member for the district came in as he shook hands heartily with almost everybody. At five minutes to eight the Mayor arrived with the Mayoress and shook hands with literally anyone who confronted him. They were shown into armchairs. By this time all the seats except those reserved for the official party were full and there were Maoris standing in solid groups at the far end of the hall, or settling themselves in parties on the floor. With the arrival of their guests they became circumspect and quiet. Those beautiful voices, that can turn English into a language composed almost entirely of deep-throated vowels, fell into silence, and the meeting house buzzed with the noise made by white New Zealanders in the mass. It became very hot and the Maori people thought indulgently that it smelt of pakeha, while the pakehas thought a little less indulgently that it smelt of Maori. At eight o'clock a premature wave of interest was caused by the arrival of Colonel Claire, Mr. Questing and Mr. Falls. They had walked over from the Springs, crossing the native thermal 269 reserve by the short cut. Mrs. Claire, Barbara, Dr. Ackrington and Gaunt were to be driven by Dikon and would arrive by the main road. The three older men were ushered up to the official chairs, but Simon at once showed the whites of his eyes and backed away into a group of young Maoris where he was presently joined by Smith, who was still very puffy and pink eyed, and by Colly. Mrs. Te Papa was heard to issue an order. A party of girls in native dress came through the audience and mounted the stage. They carried in each hand cords from which hung balls made from dry leaves. Rua took up his station outside the door of the meeting house. He was an impressive figure, standing erect in the half-light, his feather cloak hanging rigidly from his shoulders. So had his greatgrandfather stood to welcome visitors from afar. Near to him were leading men among the clan and, in the offing, Mrs. Te Papa and other elderly ladies. Most of the Maori members of the audience turned to face the back of the meeting house and as many as could do so leant out of the windows. 270 Out on the road a chiming motor horn sounded, and at least twenty said importantly that they recognised it as Gaunt's. The conglomerate hum of voices rose and died out. In the jush that followed, Rua's attenuated chant of welcome pierced the night air. "Haere mai. E te ururangi! Na wai taua ?" Each syllable was intoned and prolonged. It might have been the voice of the night wind from the sea, a primal voice, strange and disturbing to white listeners. Out in the dark Mrs. Te Papa and her supporters leant forward and stretched out their arms. Their hands fluttered rhythmically in the correct half-dance of greeting. Rua was honouring Gaunt with the almost forgotten welcome of tradition. The mutations of a century of white men's ways were pulled like cobwebs from the face of a savage culture, and the Europeans in the meeting house became strangers. As they moved forward from the car Gaunt said: "But we should reply. We should know what he is saying and reply!" "I'm not certain/5 said Dikon, "but I've heard at some time what it is. I fancy 271 he's saying we've got a common ancestor, in the first parents. I think he asks us to say who we are." "It's not really very sensible," Mrs. Claire murmured. "They know who we are. Some of their customs are not at all nice, I'm afraid, but they really mean this to be quite a compliment, poor dears.55 "As of course it is," said Gaunt quickly. "I wish we could answer." On a soft ripple of greeting from the Maori party he moved forward and shook hands with Rua. "He's at his best," Dikon thought. "He does this sort of thing admirably." With Mrs. Claire and Gaunt leading, they made a formal entrance and for the first time Dikon saw Barbara in her new dress. Ill She had been late and the rest of the party were already in the car when she ran out huddled in a wrap of obviously Anglo-Indian origin. Apologising nervously she scrambled into the back seat and Dikon had time only to see that her head shone sleekly. Gaunt had funked the 272 hairdressing and make-up part of his plan, and when Dikon caught a glimpse of Barbara's face he was glad of this. She had paid a little timid attention to it herself. Mrs. Claire sat beside Dikon, Barbara between Gaunt and her uncle in the back seat. When they had started, Dikon thought, unaccountably, of the many many times that he had driven Gaunt out to parties, of the things that were always said by the women who went with them, of how they so anxiously took the temperature of their own pleasure; of restaurants and night clubs reflecting each other's images like mirrors in a tailor's fitting room; of the end of such parties and of Gaunt's fretful displeasure if the sequel was not a success; of money pouring out as if from the nerveless hands of an imbecile. Finally he thought of how, very gradually, his own reaction to this routine had changed. From being excited and stimulated he had become acquiescent and at last an addict. He was roused from this unaccountable retrospect, by Mrs. Claire who, twisting her plump little torso, peered back at her daughter. "Dear," she said, "isn't your hair rather odd ? Couldn't 273 you fluff it forward a little, softly ?" And Gaunt had said quickly: "But I have been thinking how charming it looked." Dr. Ackrington, who up till now had not uttered a word, cleared his throat and said he supposed they were to suffer exquisite discomfort at the concert. "No air, wooden benches, smells and caterwauling. Hope you expect nothing better, Gaunt. The natives of this country have been ruined by their own inertia and the criminal imbecility of the white population. We sent missionaries to stop them eating each other and bribed them with bad whisky to give up their land. We cured them of their own perfectly good communistic system, and taught them how to loaf on government support. We took away their chiefs and gave them trade-union secretaries. And for mating customs that agreed very well with them, we substituted, with a sanctimonious grimace, disease and holy matrimony.35 "James I" "A fine people ruined. Look at the young men! Spend their time in..." "James /" Gaunt, with the colour of laughter in 274 his voice, asked if the Maori Battalion didn't prove that the warrior spirit lived again. "Because in the army they've come under a system that agrees with them. Certainly," said Dr. Ackrington triumphantly. For the remainder of the short drive they had been silent. It was too dark outside the meeting house for Dikon to see Barbara at all clearly. He knew, however, that she had left the cloak behind her. But when she walked before him through the audience, he saw that Gaunt had wrought a miracle. Dikon's connection with the theatre had taught him to think about clothes in terms df art, and it was with a curious mixture &f regret and excitement that he now recognised the effect of Barbara's transformation upon himself. It had made a difference and he was not sure that he did not resent this. He felt as if Gaunt had forestalled him. "In a little while,3' he said, -even though I had not seen her like this, I should have loved her. / ought to have been the one to show her to herself." :*"' "She sat between Gaunt and her uncle. There were not enough armchairs to go 275 round, and Dikon slipped into an extremely uncomfortable seat in the second row. "Definitely the self-effacing young secretary," he said to himself. In a state of great mental confusion he prepared to watch the concert, and ended by watching Barbara. The girls on the platform broke rhythmically into the opening dance. They were led by a stout lady who, turning from side to side, cast extraordinarily significant glances about her, and made Dikon feel rather shy. Of all the Maori clans living in this remote district of the far North, Rua's was the least sophisticated. They sang and postured as their ancestors had done and their audience were spared Maori imitations of popular ballad mongers and crooners. The words and gestures that they used had grown out of the habit of a primitive people and told of their canoes, their tillage, their mating, and their warfare. Many of their songs, sacred to the rites of death, are not considered suitable for public performance, but there was one they sang that night that was to be remembered with a shudder by everyone who heard it. 276 Rua, in a little speech, introduced it. It had been composed, he said, by an ancestress of his on the occasion of the death of a maiden who unwittingly committed sacrilege and died in Taupotapu. He repeated the horrific legend that, one night on the hill-top, he had related to Smith. The song, he explained, was not a funeral dirge and therefore not particularly tapu. His eyes flashed for a moment as he glanced at Questing. He added blandly that he hoped the story might be of interest. The song was very short and simple, a minor thread of melody that wavered about through a few plain phrases, but the hymn-like over-sweetness of some of the other songs was absent in this one. Dikon wondered how much its icy undercurrent of horror depended upon a knowledge of its theme. In the penultimate line a single girl's voice rang out in a piercing scream, the cry of the maiden as she went to her death in the seething mud cauldron. It left an uncomfortable and abiding impression, which was not dispelled by the subsequent activities of the Savage Club quartette, the ventrilo 277 quist, the infant prodigy, or the determined soprano. Gaunt had said that he would appear last on the programme. With what Dikon considered ridiculous solicitude, he had told Barbara to choose for him and she had at once asked for the Crispian Day speech: "The one we had this morning." "Then he was spouting the Bard by the sad sea waves," thought Dikon vindictively. "Good God, it's nauseating." Gaunt said afterwards that he changed his mind about the opening speech because he realised that his audience would demand an encore, and he thought it better to finish up with the Henry V. But Dikon always believed that he had been influenced in his choice by the echo of the little song about death. For after opening rather obviously with the Bastard's speech on England, he turned sombrely to Macbeth. "I have almost forgot the taste of fears...' and continued to the end "... it is a tale Told by an idiot., full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing." 278 It is a terrible speech and Gaunt's treatment of it, a deadly calm monotone, struck very cold indeed. When he had ended there was a second's silence, "and then," Dikon said afterwards to Barbara, "they clapped because they wanted to get some warmth back into their hands." Gaunt watched them with a faint smile, collected himself, and then gave them Henry V with everything he'd got, bringing the Maori members of his audience to their feet, cheering. In the end he had to do the speech before Agincourt as well. He came down glowing. He was, to use a phrase that has been done to death by actors, a great artist, but an audience meant only one thing to him: it was a single entity that must fall in love with him, and, as a corollary, with Shakespeare. Nobody knew better than Gaunt that to rouse an audience whose acquaintance with the plays was probably confined to the first line of Anthony's oration was very nice work indeed. Rua, pacing to and fro in the traditional manner, thanked him first in Maori and then in English. The concert drew to an uproarious conclusion. "And now," said Rua, "The King." cs 10 279 But before the audience could get to its feet Mr. Questing was on his and had walked up on the platform. It is unnecessary to give Mr. Questing's speech in detail. Indeed, it is almost enough to say that it was a tour de force of bad taste, and that its author, though by no means drunk was, as Colly afterwards put it, ticking-over very sweetly. He called Gaunt up to the platform and forced him to stand first on one foot and then on the other for a quarter of an hour. Mr. Questing was, he said, returning thanks for a real intellectual treat but it very soon transpired that he was also using Gaunt as a kind of bait for possible visitors to the Springs. What was good enough for the famous Geoffrey Gaunt, he intimated, was good enough for anybody. Upon this one clear harp he played in divers keys while the party from Waiatatapu, grew clammy with shame. Dikon, filled with the liveliest apprehension, watched the glow of complacency die in his employer's face to be succeeded by all the signs of extreme fury. "My God," Dikon thought, "he's going to throw a temperament." Simultaneously, Barbara, 280 with rising terror, observed the same phenomena in her uncle. Mr. Questing, with a beaming face at last drew to his insufferably fulsome conclusion, and the Mayor, who had obviously intended to make a speech himself, rose to his feet, faced the audience, and let out a stentorian bellow. "For-or ..." sang the Mayor encouragingly. And the audience, freed from the bondage of Mr. Questing's oratory, thankfully proclaimed Gaunt as a jolly good fellow. But the party was not yet at an end. Steaming trays of tea were brought in from outside, and formidable quantities of food. Dikon hurried to his employer and discovered him to be in the third degree of temperament, breathing noisily through his nostrils and conversing with unnatural politeness. The last time Dikon had seen him in this condition had been at a rehearsal of the fight in "Macbeth". The Macduff, a timid man whose skill with the claymore had not equalled that of his adversary, continually backed away from Gaunt's onslaught and so incensed him that in the end, quite beside himself with 281 fury, he dealt the fellow a swinging blow and chipped the point off his collarbone. Gaunt completely ignored his secretary, accepted a cup of strong and milky tea, and stationed himself beside Barbara. There he was joined by Dr. Ackrington, who, in a voice that trembled with fury, began to apologise, none too quietly, for Questing's infamies. Dikon could not hear everything that Dr. Ackrington said, but the word "horsewhipping" came through very clearly several times. It struck him that he and Barbara, hovering anxiously behind these two angry men, were for all the world like a couple of seconds at a prize fight. Upon this ludicrous but alarming pantomime came the cause of it, Mr. Questing himself. With his thumbs in the armholes of his white waistcoat he balanced quizzically from his toes to his heels and looked at Barbara through half-closed eyes. "Well, well, well," Mr. Questing purred in a noticeably thick voice. "So we've got 'em all on, eh ? And very nice too. So she didn't know who sent them to her ? Fancy that, now. Not an idea, eh? Must have been Auntie in India, huh? Well, well, well!" 282 If he wished to cause a sensation, he met with unqualified success. They gaped at kirn. Barbara said in a small desperate voice: "But it wasn't... ? It couldn't have been... ?" "I'm not saying a thing/3 cried Mr. Questing in high glee. "Not a thing." He leered possessively upon Barbara, dug Dr. Ackrington in the waistcoat and clapped Gaunt on the back. "Great work, Mr. Gaunt," he said. "Bit highbrow for me, y'know, but they seemed to take it. Mind, I was interested, I used to do a bit of reciting myself at one time. Humorous monologues. Hope you liked the little pat on the back I gave you. It all helps, fjoesn't it ? Even at a one-eyed little show Mfce this," he added in a spirituous whisper, and laughing easily, turned to find Rua at his elbow. "Why, hullo, Rua," Mr. Quest ilig continued without batting an eyelid. "Great little show. See you some more." And, humming the refrain of the song about death, he moved forward to shake hands heartily with the Mayor. He made t sort of royal progress to the door and finally strolled out. Later, when it was of enormous import283 ance that he should remember every detail of the next few minutes, Dikon was to find that he retained only a few disconnected impressions. Barbara's look of desolation; Mr. Septimus Falls in pedantic conversation with Mrs. Claire and the Colonel, both of whom seemed to be wildly inattentive; the startling blasphemies that Gaunt whispered as he looked after Questing -- these details only was he able to focus in a field of hazy recollections. It was Rua, he decided afterwards, who saved the situation. With the adroitness of a diplomat at a difficult conference, he talked through Dr. Ackrington's furious expostulations and, without appearing to hurry, somehow succeeded in presenting the Mayoral party to Gaunt. They got through the next few minutes without an actual flare-up. It must have been Rua, Dikon decided, who asked a member of the glee club to strike up the National Anthem on the meeting-house piano. As they moved towards the entrance. Gaunt, speaking in a furious whisper, told Dikon to drive the Claires home without him. 284 "] «1 :But..." Dikon began. Will you do as you're told?" said Gaunt. "I'm walking." He remembered to shake hands with Rua and then slipped up a side aisle and out by the front door. The rest of the party became involved in a series of introductions forced upon them by the Mayor and, escaping from these, fell into the clutches of a very young reporter from the Harpoon Courier who, having let Gaunt escape him, seized upon Dikon and Mrs. Claire. At last Dr. Ackrington said loudly: "I'm walking." "But James, dear," Mrs. Claire protested gently. "Your leg!" "I said I was walking, Agnes. You can take Edward. I'll tell Gaunt." Before Dikon, who was separated from him by one or two people could do anything to stop him, he had edged between a row of chairs and gone out by the side aisle. "Then," said Dikon to Mrs. Claire, "perhaps the Colonel would like to come with us ?" "Yes, yes," said Mrs. Claire uneasily. "I am sure ... Edward! Where is he ?" 285 He was some way ahead. Dikon could see his white crest moving slowly towards the door. "We'll catch him when we get outside/' he said. "Quite a crush, isn't it ?" said Mr. Falls at his elbow. "More like the West End every moment." Dikon turned to look at him. The remark seemed to be not altogether in character. Mr. Falls raised his eyebrow. A theatrical phrase in common usage came into Dikon's mind. "He's got good appearance/' he thought. "I'm afraid the Colonel has escaped us/' said Mr. Falls. As they moved slowly down the aisle Dikon was conscious of a feeling of extreme urgency, a sense of being obstructed, such as one sometimes experiences in a nightmare. Barbara's distress assumed a disproportionate significance. Dikon was determined that she should not be hoodwinked by Mr. Questing's outrageous hint that he had sent the dress, yet he could not tell her that Gaunt had done so. And where was Gaunt ? In his present state of mind he was capable of anything. It was highly 286 probable that at this very moment he was hot on Questing's track. At last they were out in the warm air. The night was clear and the stars shone brightly. The houses of Rua's hapu were dimly visible against the blackness of the hills. A tall fence of manuka poles showed dramatically against the night sky, resembling in the half-light the palisade that had stood there in the days when the village was a fort. Most of the visitors had already gone. From out of the dark came the sound of many quiet voices and of one, a man's, that seemed to be raised in anger. "But it is a Maori voice," Dikon said. In a distant hut one or two women broke quietly into the refrain of the little song. So still was the air that in the intervals between these sounds Taupo-tapu and the lesser mud pots could be heard, placidly working in the dark, out on the native reserve: plop plop-plop, a monstrously domestic noise. Dikon was oppressed by the sensation of something primordial in which he himself had no part. Three small boys, their brown faces and limbs scarcely discernible in the shadow of the meeting house, suddenly darted out in front of Barbara 287 and Dikon. Striking the ground with their bare feet and slapping their thighs they sketched the movements of the war dance. They thrust out their tongues and rolled their eyes. "Eee-e I Eee-e" they said, making their voices deep. A woman spoke out of the dark, scolding them for their boldness and calling them home. They giggled skittishly and ran away. "They are too cheeky/' the invisible woman's voice said profoundly. The Colonel and Mr. Falls had disappeared. Mrs. Claire was still by the meeting house, engaged in a long conversation with Mrs. Te Papa. "Let's bring the car round, shall we?" said Dikon to Barbara. He was determined to get a word with her alone. She walked ahead of him quickly and he followed, stumbling in the dark. "Jump into the front seat," he said. "I want to talk to you." But when they were in the car he was silent for a time, wondering how to begin, and astonished to find himself so greatly disturbed by her nearness. "Now listen to me," he said at last. "You've got hold of the idea that Questing 288 sent you those damned clothes., haven't you ?" "But of course he did. You heard what he said. You saw how he looked." And with an air of simplicity that he found very touching she added: "And I did look nice,, didn't I ?" "You little ninny!5' Dikon scolded. "You did and you do and you shall continue to look nice." "You knew that wasn't true before you said it. Shall I have to give it back myself, do you imagine? Or do you think my father might do it for me? I suppose I ought to hate my lovely dress but I can't quite do that." "Really," Dikon cried, "you're the most irritating girl in a quiet way that I have ever encountered. Why should you jump to the conclusion he did it? The man's slightly tight anyway. See here, if Questing sent you the things, I'll buy Waiatatapu myself and run it as a lunatic asylum." "How can you be so certain ?" "It's a matter of psychology," Dikon blustered. "If you mean he's not the sort of person to do a thing like that," said Barbara with 289 some spirit, "I think you're quite wrong. You've seen how frightful his behaviour can be. He just wouldn't know it isn't done." Dikon could think of no answer. "I don't know anything about that," he said disagreeably. "I merely think it's idiotic to say he had anything to do with it." "If you think I'm idiotic," said Barbara loudly, "I wonder you bother to mix yourself up in our affairs at all." And she added childishly in a trembling voice: "Anyway it's quite obvious that you think I'm hopeless" "If you want to know what I think about you," Dikon said furiously, "I think you deliberately make the worst of yourself. If you didn't pull faces like a clown and do silly things with your voice you'd be remarkably attractive." "Good Lord, that's absolutely impertinent!" cried Barbara, stung to anger. "How dare you," she added, "how dare you speak about me like that!" "You asked for an honest opinion ..." "I didn't. So you've no business to give it." As this statement was true Dikon made no attempt to counter it. "I'm uncouth and crude and I irritate you," Barbara continued. 290 "Then stop talking!" Dikon shouted. He did not mean to kiss her, he was telling himself. He had not even thought of doing so. It was by some compulsion that it happened, some chance touch upon an emotional reflex. Having begun, there seemed to be no reason why he should stop, though an on-looker in his brain was saying quite distinctly: "This is a pretty kettle of fish." "You beast I" Barbara muttered. "Beast! Beast /" "Hold your tongue." "Bar-bier called Mrs. Claire. "Where are you ?" "Here!" shouted Barbara at the top of her voice. By the time Mrs. Claire came up to them Barbara was out of the car. "Thank you, dear," said her mother. "You needn't have moved. I'm so sorry I was such a long time. Mr. Falls has been looking for Edward but I'm afraid he's gone." She got in beside Dikon. "I don't think we need wait. Jump in, dear, we mustn't keep Mr. Bell any longer." Barbara's hand was on the door and Dikon had reached out towards the self291 starter. They were arrested by a cry which, though it endured for no longer than two seconds, filled the night so shockingly that it hung on the air as a sensation after it had ceased to be a sound. An observer would have seen in the half light that their faces were all turned in one direction as if their heads had been jerked by a wire. On the silence that followed upon the scream there came again the monstrously domestic noise of a boiling pot. 292 CHAPTER NINE Mr. Questing Goes Down for the Third Time THEY were not alone for more than two minutes. A subdued hubbub had broken out in the village around them. Doors were opened and slammed. A woman's voice -- was it Mrs. Te Papa's ? -- was raised in a long wail. "What/5 asked Mrs. Claire steadily, ccwas that dreadful noise ?" They began to protect themselves with improbabilities. It was the small boys trying to frighten them. It was someone repeating the death cry of the girl in the song. The last suggestion came from Dikon, and as soon as he had made it he felt its reflection in his hearers.