Bear Island (34 page)

    “I notice something. The wad of paper we left jammed between the window and frame-well, it's no longer jammed between window and frame." He shone his torch on the ground, stopped and picked something up. "Because it was lying down there. A caller or callers.”

    “So it would seem." We clambered inside and while Smithy started screwing the window back in place I turned up the oil lamp and started to look around partly for some other evidence to show that an intruder had been there but mainly to try to discover the reason for his being there. Inevitably, my first check was on the medical equipment and my first check was my last and very brief it was too.

    "Well, well," I said. "Two birds with one stone. We're a brilliant pair.”

    “We are?”

    “The lad you saw with his face pressed against that window. Probably had it stuck against it for all of five minutes until he'd made sure he'd been seen. Then to make certain you were really interested, he went and shone his torch into Judith Haynes's window. No two actions, he must have calculated, could have been designed to lure us out into the open more quickly.”

    “He was right at that, wasn't he?" He looked at my opened medical kit and said carefully: "I'm to take it, then, that there's something missing there?”

    “You may so take it." I showed him the velvet-lined gap in the tray where the something missing had been. "A lethal dose of morphine."

    11

    "Four bells and all's well," Smithy said, shaking my shoulder. Neither the call nor the shake was necessary, I was by this time, even in my sleep, in so keyed-up a state that his turning of the door handle had been enough to have me instantly awake. "Time to report to the bridge. We've made some fresh coffee."

    I followed him into the main cabin, said a greeting to Conrad who was bent over pot and cups at the oil stove and went to the front door. To my surprise the wind, now fully round to the west, had dropped away to something of not more than the order for a Force 3, the snow had thinned to the extent that it promised to cease altogether pretty soon and I even imagined I could see a few faint stars in a clear patch of sky to the south, beyond the entrance of the Sor-Hamna. But the cold, if anything, was even more intense than it had been earlier in the night. I closed the door quickly, turned to Smithy and spoke softly.

    "An unlooked for change in the weather. If this improvement maintains itself I can see Otto calling on you-and if he doesn't someone's going to remind him by suggesting it-to carry out your offer of last night and strike out for Tunheim and the law.”

    “I'm beginning to regret I ever made the offer-but I didn't seem to have much option at the time.”

    “And you won't have any option if, come the dawn, the sun is shining. No way to pull out now. Watch Heyter, though, watch him very very closely."

    Smithy was silent for a considering moment. "You think he bears watching?"

    “He's one of thirteen potential murderers and for me those odds are small enough to make them all deserving of as close an eye as the crown jewels. And if, in that thirteen, you were to cut out Conrad, Lonnie, and the Three Apostles-and mentally I've already cut them out-you've brought the odds down to one in eight. Perhaps two in eight-perhaps even a very uncomfortable three in eight.”

    “You're very encouraging," Smithy said. "What makes you so sure that those five-" He broke off. as Luke, yawning and stretching vastly, entered the main cabin. Luke was a thin, awkward, gangling creature, a towheaded youth urgently in need of the restraining influences of either a barber or a ribbon.

    I said: "Do you see him as a gun for hire?"

    I could have him up for committing musical atrocities with a guitar, I should think. Otherwise-yes, I agree. Very little threat to life and limb. And, yes again, that would go for the other four, too." He watched as Conrad went into one of the passages, carrying a cup of coffee. "I'd put my money on our leading man any day.”

    “Where on earth is he off to?”

    “Bearing sustenance for his lady-love, I should imagine. Miss Stuart spent much of our watch with us."

    I was on the point of observing that the alleged lady-love had a remarkable predilection for moving around in the darker watches of the night but thought better of it. That Mary Stuart was involved in matters dark and devious-Heissman's being her uncle didn't even begin to account for the earlier oddity of her behaviour-I didn't for a moment doubt: that she was engaged in any murderous activities I couldn't for a moment believe.

    Smithy went on: "It's important that I reach Turtheim?”

    “It hardly matters whether you do or not. With Heyter along, only the weather and the terrain can decide that. If you have to turn back, that's fine with me, I'd rather have you here: if you get to Tunheim, just stay there.”

    “Stay there? How can I stay there? I'm going there for help, am I not? And Heyter will be shouting to come back.”

    “I'm sure they'll understand if you explain that you're tired and need a rest. If Heyter makes a noise, have him locked up-I'll give you a letter to the Met. officer in charge.”

    “You'll do that, will you? And what if the Met. officer point-blank refuses ?"

    “I think you'll find some people up there who'll be only too happy to oblige you."

    He looked at me without a great deal of enthusiasm. "Friends of yours, of course?”

    “There's a visiting meteorological team from Britain staying there briefly. Five of them. Only, they're not meteorologists."

    “Naturally not." The lack of enthusiasm deteriorated into a coldness that was just short of outright hostility. "You play your cards mighty close to the chest, don't you, Dr. Marlowe?”

    “Don't get angry with me. I'm not asking you that, I'm telling you. Policy--I obey orders, even if you don't. A secret shared is never a secret halved-even a peck at my cards and who knows who's kibitzing? I'll give you that letter early this morning.”

    “OK." Smithy was obviously restraining himself with no small difficulty. He went on morosely: I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised to find even the Morning Rose up there?”

    “Let me put it this way," I said. I wouldn't put it beyond the bounds of possibility."

    Smithy nodded, turned and walked to the oil stove where Conrad, now returned, was pouring coffee. We sat for ten minutes, drinking and talking about nothing much, then Smithy and Conrad left. The next hour or so passed without event except that after five minutes Luke fell sound asleep and stayed that way. I didn't bother to wake him up, it wasn't necessary, I was in an almost hypernatural state of alertness: unlike Luke, I had things on my mind.

    A door in a passage opened and Lonnie appeared. As Lonnie, by his own account, wasn't given to sleeping much and as he wasn't on my list of suspects anyway, this was hardly call for alarm. He came into the cabin and sat heavily in a chair by my side. He looked old and tired and grey and the usual note of badinage was lacking in his tone.

    "Once again the kindly healer," he said, "and once again looking after his little flock. I have come, my boy, to share your midnight vigil.”

    “It's twenty-five to four," I said.

    ”A figure of speech." He sighed. "I have not slept well. In fact, I have not slept at all. You see before you, Doctor, a troubled old man.”

    “I'm sorry to hear that, Lonnie.”

    “No tears for Lonnie. For me, as for most of pitiful mankind, ray troubles are my own making. To be an old man is bad enough. To be a'lonely old man, and I have been lonely for many years, makes a man sad for much of the time. But to be a lonely old man who can no longer live with his conscience-ah, that is not to be borne." He sighed again. “I am feeling uncommonly sorry for myself tonight.”

    “What's your conscience doing now?"

    It's keeping me awake, that's what it's doing. Ah, my boy, my boy, to cease upon the midnight with no pain. What more could a man want when it's evening and time to be gone?”

    “This wine shop on the far shore?”

    “Not even that." He shook his head mournfully. "No welcoming arms in paradise for the lost Lonnies of this world. Haven't the right entry qualifications, my boy." He smiled and his eyes were sad. "I'll pin my hopes on a small four-ale bar in purgatory."

    He lapsed into silence, his eyes closed and I thought he was drifting off. into sleep. But he presently stirred, cleared his throat and said apparently apropos of nothing: "It's always too late. Always.”

    “What's always too late, Lonnie?”

    “Compassion is, or understanding or forgiveness. I fear that Lonnie Gilbert has been less than he should have been. But it's always too late. Too late to say I like you or I love you or how nice you are or I forgive you. if only, if only, if only. It is difficult to make your peace with someone if you're looking at that person and he's lying there dead. My, my, my." As if with an immense effort he pushed himself to his feel?. "But there's still a little shred of something that can be saved. Lonnie Gilbert is now about to go and do something that he should have done many, many years ago. But first I must arm myself, some life in the ancient bones, some clarity in the faded mind, in short prepare myself for what I'm ashamed to say I still regard as the ordeal that lies ahead. In brief, my dear fellow, where's the Scotch?”

    “I'm afraid Otto has taken it with him.”

    “A kind fellow, Otto, none kinder, but be has his parsimonious side to him. But no matter, the main source of supply is less than a Sunday's march away." He made for the outer door but I stopped him.

    "One of those times, Lonnie, you're going to go out there, sit down there, go to sleep and not come back again because you'll be frozen to death, Besides, there's no need. There's some in my cubicle. Same source of supply, I assure you. I'll fetch it. just keep your eye open in my absence, will you?"

    It didn't matter very much whether he kept his eyes open or Dot for I was back inside twenty seconds. Smithy, clearly, was a heavier sleeper than I was for he didn't stir during my brief visit.

    Lonnie helped himself copiously, drained his glass in a few gulps, gazed at the bottle longingly then set it firmly aside. "Duty completed, I shall return and enjoy this at my leisure. Meantime, I am sufficiently fortified.”

    “Where are you going?" It was difficult to imagine what pressing task he had on hand at that time of the night

    “I am in great debt to Miss Haynes. It is my wish--”

    “To Judith Haynes?" I know I stared at him. It was my understanding that you could with but difficulty look at her."

    “In great debt," he said firmly. "It is my wish to discharge it, to clear the books, you might say. You understand',”

    “No. What I do understand is that it's only three forty-five. If this business has been outstanding, as you said, for so many years, surely it can wait just another few hours. Besides, Miss Haynes has been sick and shocked and she's under sedatives. As her doctor, and whether she likes it or not, I am her doctor, I can't permit it.”

    “And as a doctor, my dear fellow, you should understand the necessity for immediacy. I have worked myself up to this, screwed myself, as it were, to the sticking point. Another few hours, as you say, and it may be too late. The Lonnie Gilbert you see before you will almost certainly have reverted to the bad old, cowardly old, selfish old, clay-souled Lonnie of yore, the Lonnie we all know so well. And then it will always be too late." He paused and switched his argument. "Sedatives, you say. How long do the effects of those last?”

    “Varies from person to person. Four hours, six hours, maybe as much as eight.”

    “Well, there you are, then. Poor girl's probably been lying awake for hours, just longing for some company although not, in all likelihood, that of Lonnie Gilbert. Or has it escaped your attention that close on twelve hours have elapsed since you administered that sedative?"

    It had. But what had not escaped my attention was that Lonnie's relationship vis-a-vis Judith Haynes had been intriguing me considerably for some time. It might, I thought, be very helpful and, with regards to a deeper penetration of the fog of mystery surrounding us, more than a little constructive if I could learn something of the burden of what Lonnie had in mind to say to Judith Haynes. I said: "Let me go and see her. If she's awake and I think she's fit to talk, then OK."

    He nodded. I went to Judith Haynes's room and entered without knocking. The oil lamp was turned up and she was awake, stretched out under the covers with only her face showing. She looked ghastly, which was the way I had expected her to look, with the Titian hair emphasising the drawn pallor of her face. The usually striking green eyes were glazed and lacklustre and her cheeks were smudged and streaked with tears. She looked at me indifferently as I pulled up a stool, then looked as indifferently away.

    "I hope you slept well, Miss Haynes," I said. "How are you feeling?”

    “Do you usually come calling on patients in the middle of the night?" Her voice was as dull as her eyes.

    "I don't make a practice of it. But we're taking turns keeping watch tonight, and this happens to be my turn. Is there anything that you want?”

    “No. Have you found out who killed my husband?" She was so preternaturally calm, under such seemingly iron control, that I suspected it to be the prelude to another uncontrollable hysterical outburst.

    "No. Am I to take it from that, Miss Haynes, that you no longer think that young Allen did?"

    “I don't think so. I've been lying here for hours, just thinking, and I don't think so." From the lifeless voice and the lifeless face I was pretty sure she was still under the influence of the sedative. "You will get him, won't you? The man who killed Michael. Michael wasn't as bad as people thought, Dr. Marlowe, no he really wasn't." For the first time a trace of expression, just the weary suggestion of a smile. I don't say he was a kind man or a good one or a gentle one, for he wasn't: but he was the man for me.”