The Bone is Pointed Read online

  “Only for Mr Bonaparte’s entertainment, Captain Love-acre,” the girl replied, laughing.

  “Now, Miss Lacy, meet Superintendent Browne, my brother-in-law, who is having a flying holiday,” interposed Sergeant Blake.

  Bony’s eyes went cold. He was, after all, not so important to the Criminal Investigation Branch. A flying holiday it was, not a special mission to plead with him to return to duty, the Commissioner giving him another chance.

  Gruff and hearty, Browne acknowledged the introduction, nodded to Bony a little too casually, and then the party turned to watch the drama being played beyond the fence. And Bony was smiling, for he had recalled that Browne’s salary would not meet the expense of such a holiday and, moreover, that Browne was known to be a careful man married to a still more careful woman. He remembered his self-imposed task of acting camp cook, and, without a sign, he walked slowly and still falteringly across to the temporary camp where he filled the tea billies and set them on the fire. He was seated on Gordon’s tucker box waiting for the water to boil, when Browne detached himself from the group at the fence and came across on his tracks.

  “Well, how’s things, Bony? Heard you were very ill.”

  “I have been so, but I am round the corner and on the road to recovery. Why have you come?”

  “That being a straight question, I’ll give a straight answer. The Old Man sent me.”

  The large man, dressed in tussore silk, seated himself on the ground and rested his back against a tree up which ants were running. He began to fill a pipe. Bony smiled, wondering how long the ants would permit the Superintendent ease.

  “Why did Colonel Spendor send you for me?”

  “He reckons you would be of greater service to the Branch alive than here at Karwir under the ground. From information received we learned that you were desperately ill, that you were being boned by the local blacks, and the Old Man sent me to take you back. You coming quietly?”

  The question was absurd. Browne weighed sixteen stone of bone and muscle, Bony weighed in the vicinity of eight stone and could not have resisted a child of twelve.

  “And your informant—who was it?”

  “In police practice the informant’s name is never divulged, as you well know,” Browne remarked casually. “When the Old Man heard about you he showed that he has a soft spot for you in his heart. If the Chief Sec objects to the expense of this plane trip the Old Man will be paying for it.” Browne knew how to deal with Mr Napoleon Bonaparte. “It’s going to be a wicked day for the Force when Colonel Spendor retires, Bony, and you and I will be losing a good friend.”

  “I concur in that,” murmured Bony.

  “Good! I didn’t doubt that you would. Now you pack up right now and we’ll start back. Loveacre says we can camp the night at Opal Town, using the Karwir private ’drome. You let up on this disappearance case. Not finishing it can’t be held against you. Then we’ll talk to the Old Man who will, I think, reinstate you without loss of pay.”

  “You think he will?” asked Bony, his eyes shining.

  “Sure to. Can’t do without you. Knows you’re a tiger once you begin an investigation, knows you haven’t any more respect for authority than a crow, but in his big heart he thinks a lot of you.”

  Bony sighed. He was quite serious when he said:

  “Very well. I’ll relinquish this investigation. You see. I am a sick man, and it is most difficult to work longer on it. I should like to write a line of thanks to Old Lacy for his great kindness to me. Have you writing materials?”

  “Yes, on the plane.”

  “And I have a few words to say to Miss Lacy and to Mr Gordon. After that we might wait here while Mr Gordon or Young Lacy goes to the homestead for my things. It is only twelve miles away and it will not take long. I shall be glad to leave Karwir.”

  “D’you think you were really boned by the blacks?” asked Browne, his grey eyes small.

  “Oh, yes. But you will do nothing about it. The blacks have made me well by un-boning me. Their medicine man has done me a very great deal of good and I am infinitely better than I was yesterday morning. Now you get me the writing materials while I make the tea.”

  From this task Bony looked up to observe the broad back of the Superintendent walking towards the big machine. He smiled, for there were several ants on that broad back. A minute or two later he beat an empty water tin with a stick, attracting the attention of Captain Loveacre and Diana, and the party working at the fence corner. When they had all come into the shade for afternoon tea he was busy writing his letter to Old Lacy. It ran:

  Dear Mr Lacy—The Chief Commissioner has chartered an aeroplane and sent my superior officer to take me back to Brisbane. I should much like to have paid another visit to Karwir and thanked you in person for the great kindness you have shown me during this investigation into the disappearance of Jeffery Anderson. I owe more to you than you may appreciate, and I am happy to say that the Kalchut medicine man visited me yesterday and to-day and has begun to send me along the road to full health and strength.

  Miss Lacy will inform you of the details of my investigation which will, I think, completely satisfy you as to the fate of Jeffery Anderson and the reasons why I intend taking no action against any persons. Anderson’s fate and the manner of it is better forgotten, and in this I am sure you will agree.

  I have the honour to announce to you the engagement of your daughter to Mr John Gordon.

  I am confident that you will be overjoyed by this announcement, for Gordon is a splendid young man and they are very much in love. I look forward to receiving notice of the wedding, when it is arranged, and to adding a piece of cake to my treasured collection of wedding cake. We are both getting old, and it is good for us to be sentimental sometimes.

  And so, good-bye, or it may be au revoir.

  I have, indeed, the honour to be,

  Most sincerely yours,

  Napoleon Bonaparte, D.-I., C.J.B.

  P.S.—I was nearly forgetting. During the course of the investigation, I learned that Jeffery Anderson was your son by a woman named Kate O’Malley. It puzzled me why you kept him at Karwir, why you treated him as you did. It was strange that his mother’s love for the Irish national colour was shown by your son in his choice of cable silk for his whip crackers. It is a sad chapter better closed. Remind Miss Lacy to send me a piece of the cake, won’t you? Hope you will be up and about long before the cake is cut.

  This letter containing a hint at blackmail Bony placed in an envelope in his pocket-book with those five envelopes marked “Exhibits” from one to five. The men had finished lunch and were smoking, the girl was talking animatedly with them as she smoked a cigarette. Bony rose, saying to them all:

  “I am going to ask Mr Lacy to fly to Karwir for my things, as Superintendent Browne wishes me to return with him and Captain Loveacre. While Mr Lacy is away, I should like to talk privately with you, Miss Lacy, and you, Mr Gordon. Please convey my thanks to Mr Lacy senior, and say that I am writing to him to express my gratitude for his kindness to me.”

  “Righto! I’ll get going now. I’ll come back on the truck. We’ll want more netting out here and more men,” said Young Lacy cheerfully.

  “We’ll go along and see him off,” suggested Bony.

  Loveacre and Browne remained in camp. After Young Lacy’s machine disappeared over the scrub, they watched the girl, Gordon and Bony, walking towards the shade cast by a robust leopardwood-tree. Bony walked in the centre, each hand holding an arm.

  “Looks like he’s taking ’em for a little walk,” remarked the Superintendent.

  “May be hanging on to them for support,” Blake said. “He’s worse than he looks. You can have no idea what he’s gone through.”

  “He looks terrible to me,” asserted Captain Loveacre, “this boning must be a pretty dreadful business. What’s he doing now? Making a fire over there. Hang it, isn’t it hot enough without a fire?”

  A spiral of smoke rose from the group of three
. They could observe Bony inviting the girl and Gordon to be seated.

  “I’d like to know what he’s up to,” growled Browne. “I feel that it was too easy persuading him to give up this case. You know anything about it, Sergeant?”

  Despite the fact that the question was officially put, Sergeant Blake brazenly lied:

  “Nothing, sir.”

  Captain Loveacre rose to his feet, saying:

  “Well, I’m going across to the fence. There’s much more of interest over there.”

  Superintendent Browne frowned at the three seated about the little fire, then he grunted and followed the others to the netted barrier.

  Hool-’Em-Up and Sool-’Em-Up stood regarding the retreating broad back, then they slowly walked along the depression’s bank to the party of three and went to ground close behind Bony.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Bony is Sentimental

  LIKE Captain Loveacre, neither Diana nor John Gordon could understand why Bony made his little fire when a breath of cool wind would have been a relief. Dusty and begrimed, the man appeared in striking contrast to the girl who was wearing superbly fitting riding kit and knew how to sit gracefully on the ground. Bony was sitting on his heels making a number of cigarettes, and only now did his companions clearly see the physical effects of the pointed bone. His face was almost fleshless. His eyes were sunken and lit with blue gleams. Neither Gordon nor Diana Lacy had spoken a word since Bony had brought them from the lunch camp, and now they waited for him to speak with such anxiety that the extraordinary scene at the fence angle was forgotten.

  “You two need not fear me,” he told them almost pleadingly. “No one fears me except evil-doers. Had you known me in the beginning as well as I hope you will know me after I leave Karwir, you would have been spared a load of worry and I a dreadful experience. Now listen to my story, and do not interrupt, for we haven’t much time.

  “On the eighteenth of April of this year, John Gordon and Jimmy Partner left Meena homestead to work in the Meena East Paddock and Jeffery Anderson left the Karwir homestead to ride the fences of Green Swamp Paddock. It began to rain about two o’clock, and at this hour the three men were able confidently to predict a heavy fall. They also knew—a fact known possibly only to a fourth man, Young Lacy—that John Gordon and Diana Lacy were in love and met secretly at points on the boundary fence. Two matters, therefore, they were all agreed upon: the love affair and the prospect of an excellent fall of rain.

  “When it began to rain Anderson decided to he need not visit Green Swamp itself. He continued riding the paddock’s fences. Gordon decided that, because the Channels become sheep traps in wet weather, he and Jimmy Partner would ride the southern boundary of the Meena East Paddock and muster northward any mobs of sheep they found.

  “They came upon a mob of sheep and Jimmy Partner was asked to drove them well away from the danger zone while John Gordon rode on looking for others. Thus it was that he and Anderson met on either side of the boundary fence. It was raining steadily and the sky promised a continuance of the rain.

  “We know that Anderson wanted to marry Miss Lacy and that he regarded John Gordon as his successful rival. We may also assume that he disliked Gordon for another reason, namely Gordon’s indignation and actions following the atrocious treatment of Inky Boy and a lubra.

  “Well, there he was this wet afternoon miles from the homestead and without protection from the rain. His mood was evil before he saw John Gordon riding towards him on the far side of the fence. The man’s record proves the ugliness of his temper when aroused. His anger, already sharpened by the rain, was whipped to fury by the sight of his rival.

  “It is likely that at once he began to insult Gordon. Probably he threatened to reveal the secret love affair to Old Lacy. More probable still, in order to taunt Gordon into furious action, he referred insultingly to Miss Lacy. My reading of Gordon’s character leads me to think that he would not quietly ride on, that he would resent insults to himself and violently protest against insults to his sweetheart. Angry words were flung to and fro across the netted barrier.

  “Early this day, Anderson had what is termed ‘taken the sting’ out of The Black Emperor, and no doubt his subsequent riding had further subdued that great horse. He dismounted and secured the end of the reins to a fence post. The use of the neck-rope for this purpose seemed to his angry mind an unnecessary delay. Over the fence he vaulted, and John Gordon also dismounted from his horse.

  “We know that Anderson was a big, strong man, much heavier and stronger than his rival. He smashed Gordon, knocking him partially unconscious, and then, before Gordon could recover, Anderson decided to treat him as he had treated Inky Boy. With the horse’s neck-rope he secured Gordon to the tree by passing the rope round the trunk and the victim’s neck, and knotting the rope in such a position that Gordon could not release himself.

  “Without doubt, Gordon recovered his senses to find himself at the mercy of a raging sadist who delighted in outlining the programme before executing it. Gordon realized that once his knees relaxed in a struggle to escape the whip the rope around his throat would take the weight of his body and suffocate him.

  “From what I have learned of Anderson, it is probable that he gave his victim an exhibition of his dexterity with a stockwhip, and at about this time Jimmy Partner rode back to assist in the muster of further sheep. Anderson, governed by sadistic rage, did not see Jimmy Partner dismount from his horse some distance away, and approach as an aboriginal does when stalking a kangaroo. Every time Anderson turned his way, Jimmy Partner froze into immobility and the unwary man received the impression that the blackfellow was a fence post or a shortened tree trunk.

  “Now Anderson came to stand at the exact distance from his victim at which he could use the whip effectively. When he made a trial cast with the whip, the cracker made with green cable silk smacked against the trunk above Gordon’s head. Gordon jerked his head back in an effort to avoid the whip lash, and his head came in violent contact with the trunk, the rough bark of which retained at least one hair from his head.

  “Whether or not Anderson had time to make another cast I am unable to determine, but Jimmy Partner now rushed him. We all know that Jimmy Partner is superlatively strong and an expert wrestler. It was comparatively easy for him to master Anderson, and during the struggle John Gordon shouted to him not to kill Anderson. He knew what many of us know, that once an aboriginal is thoroughly aroused he is a terrible person. Having Anderson at his mercy, Jimmy Partner recalled the treatment of Inky Boy, and a lubra, and the treatment about to be meted out to a man dear to him and to his people. It is not surprising that he killed Anderson with his hands.

  “Leaving the dead man, he ran to the tree and released John Gordon. I am inclined to assume that during his struggle with Anderson one of Jimmy Partner’s hands was wounded and bleeding, and that when he was releasing Gordon, blood from the wound stained the neck-rope.”

  “That’s quite right,” interrupted Gordon. “In fact, so far you are remarkably accurate.”

  “Good!” Bony said, with great satisfaction. “But to proceed. John Gordon was a quick thinker and clever. He realized that other than Jimmy Partner and himself, who were directly concerned in the tragedy, there were no witnesses whose evidence would prove justifiable homicide, and that inevitably the law would arraign Jimmy Partner for murder, and, probably, himself as accessory. The effect of the tragedy, however, would reach out far beyond himself and Jimmy Partner. Miss Lacy would be brought into it. Anderson’s history would become public property, and the affair with the lubra, and that with Inky Boy, would be broadcast. There would be an outcry because those affairs had been hushed up, and the Kalchut tribe would be drawn into the limelight.

  “We know that three generations of Gordons have followed a splendid idea, which is to preserve one aboriginal tribe from the evil shadow of civilization as long as is possible. We know that three generations of Gordons have, by wise overseership, maintained th
e Kalchut tribe in its original state. The Gordons have encouraged the Kalchut people to maintain their rites and customs; they have frowned on anything tending to destroy the practice of those rites and customs. They have shielded the Kalchut tribe from Government officials and from missionaries, in fact from every kind of white and yellow men. And so this people has remained happy and healthy, while neighbouring tribes have become debased and wretched. That the shadow of civilization will eventually fall on the Kalchut tribe we are agreed; but its blighting effect can be deferred as long as is humanly possible.

  “And so, with the dead body of Anderson lying at his feet, John Gordon clearly saw the threat to the ideal handed down to him by his father. He realized that this man, who when alive had delighted in sadistic cruelty, would in death thrust the shadow of civilization upon the Kalchut aborigines and thus hasten their de-tribalization and ruin. Public bodies would demand what is called ‘official protection,’ and religious bodies would demand a different kind of interference that would have the same fatal result. I concur earnestly and without reservation in the decision made by John Gordon, the decision to hide the corpse so that the disappearance of Jeffery Anderson might not be associated in any way with the Kalchut tribe.

  “As I have said, fortunately for many, John Gordon was a clear and a quick thinker. He and Jimmy Partner had with them no digging tools, but they knew that at Green Swamp hut there were shovels and a crowbar, and that no stockman was living there. Gordon sent Jimmy Partner on The Black Emperor to fetch the crowbar and a shovel, and while Jimmy Partner was away he selected the site of the grave. He is to be complimented on his choice.

  “He decided to bury the body beneath one of the ribbons of claypans skirting the dunes. Already water was collecting on those claypans, and, selecting one but a few yards distant from the solitary mulga-tree, Gordon dammed back the water gathered in the pan above it. When Jimmy Partner brought the tools, he, being the stronger of the two, used the crowbar to crack the surface of the claypan as though it were a sheet of thick ice. The cement-hard surface blocks thus created were carefully removed. Then the grave was carefully excavated, the soil being shovelled out and on to the claypan lower down the slope. Into the grave were placed the body, the stockwhip, the neck-rope and the dead man’s hat. The removed earth was then solidly packed about and over the body until the grave was filled to the proper level to take the surface material. Like the pieces of jigsaw puzzle the blocks were fitted together over the grave, like tiles laid and fitted on a cement hearth bed. The interstices were filled in with water-softened clay, human fingers doing this work. Finally the water from the claypan higher up was released, to flow into that beneath which was the grave, and so to the one below whereon was still the residue of excavated earth, which was carried away on to the flat, porous land.