Читать книгу Murder in the Night - Arthur Gask - Страница 6

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I woke up feeling very irritable and with a bitter taste in my mouth. It was seven o'clock, and about the usual time I awoke. I could hear Mrs. Bratt brushing vigorously in the hall and my first thought was one of annoyance at the noise she was making. Then all the events of the previous twenty-four hours flashed through my mind and I felt out of temper with everyone.

I would make them smart at the office for all their insolence to me. Captain Barker deserved to die for being such an old liar about his wretched red paste. Mrs. Bratt was a drunken old charwoman, and I would clear out of her dirty show with a week's notice. Boulter had only got his deserts and it was a pity all his beastly old rabbits weren't dead, instead of a beggarly lot of seven.

I dressed myself quickly and going out into the hall, proceeded at once to give Mrs. Bratt a piece of my mind. I told her, and in not over quiet tones either, that she was an alcoholic old beast, and shouted to her, as she retreated hysterically towards the kitchen, that I should be leaving that day week. When she feebly remonstrated with me for speaking so loudly and pointed reproachfully to Captain Barker's door, saying, "Hush, hush," I got angrier still, and stamped noisily about the hall, flourishing the dead man's walking stick that I had taken from the stand.

I felt that I wanted to kill her, and had quite a difficulty to restrain myself from doing her some injury.

She was quite thunderstruck at my rage, as well she might be, for I had been always meek as a young calf before her.

I swallowed some sort of breakfast, and banging the door behind me set off to catch my usual train up to the city.

The sun was shining gloriously, but it only roused my anger with its promise of more heat and I felt ready to quarrel with everything and everybody.

A big ugly looking dog was sunning himself on the footpath, and I surprised both myself and him by sending him off howling with a well directed kick in the ribs.

The usual last minute crowd was hurrying into the station as I arrived, and I pushed and elbowed amongst them in a manner that quickly reaped for me a rich harvest of black looks, but my savage face and the complete indifference with which I received their uncomplimentary remarks preserved me from molestation and, the train steaming into the station, I threw myself sourly into a corner seat and gave myself up to my own thoughts.

I was beginning to think that after all there might be some virtue in the red paste. I felt quite different from the way I did yesterday. I didn't feel afraid of anyone any more, and I was just longing to injure someone at the office. But I told myself I mustn't be too hurried and too eager in paying off my grudges. I must be cunning and take advantage of my supposed timidity to be revenged on everyone in their proper turn. I musn't overdo it at first.

I reached the office in good time and could not refrain from commencing the new era by straightaway giving the office boy a slap on the face for being immersed in the pages of a book instead of dusting the desks and filling the inkpots as was his proper duty. He gasped at first, in mingled pain and astonishment, but immediately recovering called me a damned fool and prepared to show fight. But he was a small boy with all his damns, and I was soon able to convince him that physically, at least, I was easily his superior. Indeed, the generosity of my violence took all the fight out of him at once.

I took the accustomed place in my corner and the other clerks began to arrive chatting and passing laughing remarks to one another as they hung up their hats and took their seats at the desks.

Waller came in as usual, last of all—twenty-one minutes after his proper time I noticed. I said nothing, however, to anyone, and was apparently absorbed as usual in my work.

Waller exhibited no particular hurry to settle at his desk; instead he perambulated about the room, flourishing a high-colored sporting paper and informing the office generally that he had a certain winner for the afternoon at ten to one.

"Fireball's bound to win," he exclaimed emphatically, "the distance will just suit her and Nat Slogger's got the mount."

It was the very chance I had been waiting for, and I stood up at my desk.

"Mr. Waller," I interrupted icily, "this is not a betting club. You work here at a salary for so many hours a week and I notice you have already this morning cheated the firm of five-and-twenty minutes of their time."

Waller looked at me blankly in a puzzled sort of way and then, apparently becoming aware who it was had spoken, dropped his jaw to an ugly sneer. Whatever retort he was about to make was stayed, however, by the abrupt entrance of Mr. William, who came in with some papers in his hand.

"Mr. William," I said at once in the same level tones that I had used to Waller, "you requested me yesterday to report more carefully on the conduct of those in this room, and I take the opportunity now to inform you that Mr. Waller has only just this minute arrived. He is twenty-five minutes late this morning, and I may add he is rarely on any day at his desk within a quarter of an hour of the proper time."

Mr. William seemed, I thought, rather taken aback at my remarks, and looked as if he had to half smother a smile, but he remarked grimly enough, anyhow, "Thank you, Wacks, I am much obliged to you. Business is not very good just now, and we have been thinking lately of dispensing with the services of two or three gentlemen in this room. I shall, therefore, be glad to know the ones we shall miss least," and then, beckoning to Waller. "I'll have a word with you, my friend, if you'll please come out with me."

"And something more, Mr. William," I went on calmly, "I am not at all satisfied with Muggins here. His work has become very slovenly lately, and nearly all the invoices he makes out I have to re-do myself, because of the blots and mistakes he makes. I understand he expects a rise at the end of this month, but I would suggest, sir, that the firm hold it over until some improvement be shown."

"Certainly, Wacks, I think it's quite a good idea. Now is there anything more you would like to tell me?"

"Yes, sir," I continued coldly, "I understand from remarks here that more heats of the dart tournament are to be played off this afternoon, and, if that be so, I am afraid I shall have to ask you for more pens. You will understand, sir, that using the nibs as darts rather spoils them for other kinds of work, and, in consequence, I often find it difficult to carry on the work of the office with the supply of pens and nibs that you allow me."

I spoke quite quietly and without any particular feeling or passion, but I hardly recognised my own voice, and seemed almost to be speaking in a dream.

"Quite so, quite so," replied Mr. William, again, I thought, smothering a smile. "I can understand. Well, if any more pens are required this afternoon for this tournament you refer to, I shall be glad if you will send those participating in the game to fetch them,"—very grimly—"I shall be glad to meet them. Now, please come with me, Waller."

They went out together. Waller looking very frightened and pasty faced, and for half a minute, at least, there was a dead silence over our room. Then the storm broke, and their tongues lashed out. Everyone seemed to have something to say.

"You sneak—you little cur—you blasted little fool," were but a few of their remarks to me, but I looked round indifferently, as if not interested, until one of them, more practical than the others in their rage, threw a dirty and wet duster at me from across the room.

The duster missed me easily, but the action instantly brought my temper to a blaze.

A heavy brass paper-weight lay near me on my desk, and seizing it up, quick as thought, I hurled it point blank at the offender. It missed his head only by a hair's breadth, and crashed through the wire protection of the window behind. Nothing daunted, I followed it up immediately with a big lead inkstand, which, missing again, broke in a panel of the door. Then, having nothing further to my hand to throw, I seized up a stool and brandishing it over my head made ready to at least maim someone if anyone came on. But they were unnerved by my violence, and stood with white faces at their desks.

They could see I was in earnest, and quite reckless of what I did. The paper-weight I threw would have seriously injured Monks had it hit him, and if the lead inkstand had found its mark it would have smashed his face in like a drum.

They looked blankly at one another, and their violence seemed suddenly to die down as I faced them. No one leading an attack, they subsided gradually to cursing and black looks, and by the time Waller returned, which he did in about ten minutes looking scared and uncomfortable, the office was wrapped in an unusual quiet.

Waller scowled menacingly at me, and was quietly informed of what had happened in his absence. He pursed up his lips when he was shown the strained wire netting, and he stared thoughtfully at the broken panel of the door. Then—and somehow I felt it at once—the impression got among them that I had gone mad. They edged away from me, and I saw it also in their nervous faces and averted eyes.

All the morning they sat uneasily at their desks, and if I made any hurried movement in turning over the pages of my ledger, everyone was on the look-out instantly. But it only amused me and I went on with my work in the usual way.

At dinner time I went out and had half a pint of beer at the 'Southern Cross,' and I can see now the startled and amazed looks on the faces of two of the clerks who happened to be lunching at the same bar. I was known so well as a rabid teetotaler and as one who had never entered a public-house. That afternoon there was absolute quiet in the office, and at half-past five they all melted away without any word of insolence or rudeness to me.

I went home myself, in a queer mood of exaltation. I was quite pleased with everything in general, and was smiling to myself at the day's adventures.

But for all this I could feel a murderous temper only just beneath my smiles, and knew that the very slightest crossing might rouse me instantly to a pitch of rage. The people that got in my way as I made for the train—the man who asked to see my season ticket at the barrier—the woman who took up too much space with her parcels in the carriage—and the paper boy who shouted too loudly as he passed the carriage door—all almost made me choke in fury. Under my pinched white face, I was a seething volcano, and if they had only known it, as dangerous to everyone I came in contact with as a man with a bomb.

As I came up our street, Boulter was leaning over his front gate, talking to Meadows, the detective. I should have passed them by with a nod and 'Good evening,' but Boulter shouted to me, in the way of those hard of hearing, and I had to stop.

"Did you hear anything last night, Mr. Wacks?" he bawled thunderously. "Any suspicious noises outside the house at all—because there was something happened in my garden—did you hear anyone moving in the night?"

I shook my head as if pressed for time and wanting to pass on, but he continued impressively. "Someone murdered my rabbits last night—seven of them—seven of the best I ever bred. All laid out stiff and still when I came out this morning to feed 'em."

I felt the detective was eyeing me narrowly and I feigned great interest at once.

"All your rabbits dead, Mr. Boulter!" I ejaculated. "They must have had something wrong to eat."

Boulter snorted furiously. "Something wrong to eat, eh? All seven of 'em with their necks broke and laid out as straight as on the counter of a butcher's shop. Something wrong to eat, eh? You're a fool, sir—another damn fool, sir."

It struck me at once what a liar the man was, for I remembered how careful I had been to curl the smelly brutes up in circles so as to make it look as if they had all died in their sleep.

The detective interrupted Boulter's flow of abuse. "No noises in the night, Mr. Wacks?" he remarked pleasantly. "No creaking of the gate? Nothing out of the ordinary? But I suppose you weren't awake. You didn't hear the dog bark by any chance?"

Nell came up to us as he spoke and began interestedly to sniff about my legs. I remembered, with a pang of uneasiness, that it was in those very trousers that I had gripped the rabbits between my knees as I had broken their necks.

I shooed her off irritably, but she was most persistent, and wouldn't go away until Boulter himself hit her angrily on the back with a stick, and then she sat down a few paces off and watched me with her bead on one side.

I made a mental note that she was dangerous, and that I must serve her as I had served the rabbits directly I could find an opportunity.

I answered the detective that I certainly had heard nothing suspicious during the night, although my window had, of course, been wide open the whole time.

Boulter calmed down a little then, and went into further details. It was murder, he insisted, cold-blooded murder by a scoundrel, and the strange part of it was his dog Nell had never given any warning. She had been quiet all night (lie number two, I thought), and had been found sleeping in her kennel just as usual when he went out at half-past six.

He was determined to find out who had done it, and we might mark his words, it would all come out one day.

I got away at last, and the detective, making my departure the excuse, came along with me. "It's quite interesting about those rabbits," he remarked musingly. "The whole thing seems so purposeless to me. What should anyone want to kill Boulter's rabbits for, unless they owed him a grudge, and, if anyone did, who in their senses would go to the risk of entering his back garden in the dead of night, killing seven rabbits and then methodically returning them one by one to their separate cages, and refastening the doors? It must have taken a lot of time, and there was the dog there all the while."

I didn't pretend to hazard a guess, and together we entered our house. Mrs. Bratt met us in the hall, full of importance and wearing her best dress.

"His lawyer has come," she whispered excitedly. "I got his address through the young man at the bank, and he is here now arranging everything."

She had evidently forgotten the unpleasantness of the morning, and was eager to enlist our interest in the dead man's affairs.

But they didn't interest me in the least. Captain Barker might have been dead for years for all I cared, and I went to my room thinking least of anybody about him.

All teatime, it was Boulter's dog alone that occupied my thoughts. She was a mangy beast, and it might be somehow found out through her that it was I who had visited the back garden in the night. She must be got rid of, and I determined to lose no time, but to do it straight away that very night.

I knew the brute's habits well. In addition to that of howling vilely at nights, there was another one, equally objectionable to those who happened to be in the vicinity at the time. In the summer months she was accustomed every evening, about sunset, to frequent the banks of the Torrens River, just below North Adelaide, and there, with a score or more of other dripping beasts, to yelp and yell while certain two-legged idiots threw sticks and stones into the water for their edification and excitement.

I would interview her, I thought, as she was returning home, and bash her quietly on the head in some convenient corner.

I set off just before eight with the iron bar in my trouser pocket. Its curved shape made it quite easy to hide, and except that it banged up against my leg when I walked quickly, it was not inconvenient to carry.

I reached the riverside just about dusk, but to my disappointment and rapidly rising anger I could see nothing of Nell. There were plenty of other howling brutes there, but not the one I wanted. Where was Boulter's beastly dog? I asked myself irritably. She could always have been found here, night after night, when no one wanted her, and yet tonight, the very night she was wanted, something had kept her away. Perhaps Boulter himself had locked her up after last night's affair. Anyhow, I would get at her somehow.

I wandered irritably across the park lands with my hand ready on my bar of iron on the off-chance of still meeting my prey.

It was nearly dark by then, and I sullenly cursed my bad luck. The footpath was quite deserted, and I took out my watch to look at the time. It had stopped at half-past seven, and I was furious. I had paid thirty shillings for it less than a month ago, and this was the way it was serving me.

A figure loomed up towards me out of the dusk. It was a short, stout man, and he was carrying his hat in one hand and with the other was mopping a rather bald head with a handkerchief.

He was puffing and blowing with the heat, and waddling along, apparently in no particular hurry. I asked him, not over politely, what was the time, but he shook his head vaguely and grunted something that left me as ignorant as before. I repeated my question, but he didn't take the slightest notice, and continued to waddle on.

A paroxysm of fury burst over me, and I shouted after him that he was a cad, but he still took no notice at all, and, chattering now with rage, I ran after him and pulled him by the arm. He turned round with a start, and with a frightened stare on his white face, elbowed me roughly in the chest. I instantly lost all control, and, whipping out my piece of iron as he started to walk on, struck him twice over the head. He put up his hands to protect himself, but I struck savagely again, and he fell on the path without a moan.

I stood over him waiting, but he was quite still. I looked up and down the path. Not a soul was near us, but I grew all at once afraid. I literally shook with fear.

What if I were seen? It would be a hanging for me if the man were dead. At any moment someone might come by along the path, and I should be a lost man. I thrust the iron back into my pocket, and, seizing the limp body by the collar, dragged it heavily across the turf, away from the path. It was a heavy load to pull, and less than fifty yards left me breathless and exhausted. I took a moment's rest, and then, spurred on by fear, dragged the body along again towards a little clump of trees.

I stood up stealthily and looked round. There was nothing to disturb me—only the flickering lights of the city and the rumbling of some distant train.

My momentary feeling of panic left me as suddenly as it had come, and I trembled now with a delicious feeling of excitement to think of what I had done. I had killed a man, and the man had richly deserved to be killed, for insulting and ignoring me when I had asked him the time.

I wasn't going to be insulted any more, and if anyone attempted to browbeat me, they must take the consequences. I wasn't going to be caught either. It would always be a secret who had killed this man, and I would gloat over the mystery I had caused. What a tale for the papers tomorrow, and what an interest I should get in reading all they had to say. But I must be careful not to be found out, and must leave no trace behind.

I took out the piece of iron that I had thrust back in my pocket and rubbed it vigorously upon the turf to remove any trace of blood that might be on it. Then, keeping my body low, I quickly put two or three hundred yards between me and the man I had killed before I again struck the path leading over the park lands.

I crouched low for a minute to see if anyone was passing, and then, finding the coast quite clear, broke into a quick walk towards the city.

I made a good detour before going home, and reached my front door just as the clocks were striking eleven. The only thing that marred my complete satisfaction was running into Meadows in the hall. He was inclined to be quite friendly and chatty, but the encounter seemed rather to upset my nerves, and when I finally got to my room I took out the jar of paste in a vague feeling of recklessness, and helped myself to another teaspoonful.

Then I got into bed and passed a rather restless night of troubled slumber. I seemed to be dreaming and dreaming all night long.