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Authors: Michael Innes
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he stood for or embodied a notion. But it was difficult to see how Unumunu could have done that.
Appleby shook his head – and found a little crowd of flies rise in air. This was not the way to solve a mystery. It was not thus that he had plumbed the matter of Dr Umpleby and the bones, of the stylish homicides at Scamnum Court, of the daft laird of Erchany; it was not thus that he had exposed the Friends of the Venerable Bede or preserved ten persons from the blackest suspicion by recollecting a line in The Ancient Mariner . It was not thus – He stood up with a groan. A cursed climate. He should not so be floored, even by the devious exertions of an odd day. He was a prematurely aged young man, aimlessly reminiscing.
Unumunu had been hauled on and across the beach here. The disturbance in the fringe of jungle was visible; there was a distinguishable trail in the undergrowth, as one might expect when a heavy body had recently been dragged through. He followed the trail for perhaps twenty yards, only to find himself cheated. With the tropical unaccountability which marked it in more ways than one, the jungle changed character; everywhere was a rubbery and resilient growth that had taken no impression from whatever had passed. He cast about for some time and in vain; he could find no further trail. So he reflected on what he had found – reflected until its unreason stared out at him. For the trail as he had traced it ran parallel to the beach, and so continued, likely enough, where it was invisible. Very laboriously the black man’s body had been lugged through the shelter of the jungle’s fringe to the point at which cover had been broken in a scramble to the beach. But throughout that twenty yards or more of stumbling progress the beach and the bay had lain equally accessible and near… Appleby foraged an armful of sticks and went down once more to the water.
Sticks, thrown far into the bay, came sluggishly but invariably back. As the tide was coming in this was scarcely surprising. But Appleby, seeming to ignore the labour-saving principle of induction, walked slowly along the beach throwing in more sticks. As he came near the point at which the body had been dragged down their behaviour became uncertain; when he was abreast of the point it changed. The sticks now floated away and disappeared.
Impelled by some inner excitement, he turned and doubled up the beach; he found a hollow log and into each end jammed a stone; he collected more sticks. He returned to the water’s edge and pitched in the log. Almost awash, it floated away; he doubled back once more to higher ground from which it could be observed. The nearer reef, all above water still, appeared to stretch continuously across the bay. But on reaching the barrier the log momentarily disappeared from sight, to become visible again in the farther bay. Somewhere there was a channel and, ebb or flow, a current ran out through it to ocean.
And now Appleby threw stick after stick from the same point, and stick after stick disappeared. It was a strong and certain current, stronger even than those which he and Diana had tackled that morning… He continued to throw sticks. And the fortieth stick defied prediction, glided on an aberrant course, ended by eddying round the now wholly submerged rock where Unumunu’s body had been found.
Appleby threw away his remaining sticks and turned a sober face towards what, conventionally, might be called home. The island’s short twilight was drawing on.
8
The glade – cautiously approached – proved untenanted; the search-party had not yet returned. That it ever would return was now a purely speculative proposition, and Appleby was inclined to regret that he had encouraged it to set out. But probably you were as safe on one corner of the island as another – perhaps safer on the move than waiting amid a gathering darkness at a base.
The crickets had fallen silent. From the reef the breakers murmured their
Appleby shook his head – and found a little crowd of flies rise in air. This was not the way to solve a mystery. It was not thus that he had plumbed the matter of Dr Umpleby and the bones, of the stylish homicides at Scamnum Court, of the daft laird of Erchany; it was not thus that he had exposed the Friends of the Venerable Bede or preserved ten persons from the blackest suspicion by recollecting a line in The Ancient Mariner . It was not thus – He stood up with a groan. A cursed climate. He should not so be floored, even by the devious exertions of an odd day. He was a prematurely aged young man, aimlessly reminiscing.
Unumunu had been hauled on and across the beach here. The disturbance in the fringe of jungle was visible; there was a distinguishable trail in the undergrowth, as one might expect when a heavy body had recently been dragged through. He followed the trail for perhaps twenty yards, only to find himself cheated. With the tropical unaccountability which marked it in more ways than one, the jungle changed character; everywhere was a rubbery and resilient growth that had taken no impression from whatever had passed. He cast about for some time and in vain; he could find no further trail. So he reflected on what he had found – reflected until its unreason stared out at him. For the trail as he had traced it ran parallel to the beach, and so continued, likely enough, where it was invisible. Very laboriously the black man’s body had been lugged through the shelter of the jungle’s fringe to the point at which cover had been broken in a scramble to the beach. But throughout that twenty yards or more of stumbling progress the beach and the bay had lain equally accessible and near… Appleby foraged an armful of sticks and went down once more to the water.
Sticks, thrown far into the bay, came sluggishly but invariably back. As the tide was coming in this was scarcely surprising. But Appleby, seeming to ignore the labour-saving principle of induction, walked slowly along the beach throwing in more sticks. As he came near the point at which the body had been dragged down their behaviour became uncertain; when he was abreast of the point it changed. The sticks now floated away and disappeared.
Impelled by some inner excitement, he turned and doubled up the beach; he found a hollow log and into each end jammed a stone; he collected more sticks. He returned to the water’s edge and pitched in the log. Almost awash, it floated away; he doubled back once more to higher ground from which it could be observed. The nearer reef, all above water still, appeared to stretch continuously across the bay. But on reaching the barrier the log momentarily disappeared from sight, to become visible again in the farther bay. Somewhere there was a channel and, ebb or flow, a current ran out through it to ocean.
And now Appleby threw stick after stick from the same point, and stick after stick disappeared. It was a strong and certain current, stronger even than those which he and Diana had tackled that morning… He continued to throw sticks. And the fortieth stick defied prediction, glided on an aberrant course, ended by eddying round the now wholly submerged rock where Unumunu’s body had been found.
Appleby threw away his remaining sticks and turned a sober face towards what, conventionally, might be called home. The island’s short twilight was drawing on.
8
The glade – cautiously approached – proved untenanted; the search-party had not yet returned. That it ever would return was now a purely speculative proposition, and Appleby was inclined to regret that he had encouraged it to set out. But probably you were as safe on one corner of the island as another – perhaps safer on the move than waiting amid a gathering darkness at a base.
The crickets had fallen silent. From the reef the breakers murmured their
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