‘It seems a pity to sack the small thief if he could lead one to the big thief, but of course that’s your job. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.’ Wilson paused and that extraordinary tell-tale blush spread over his face. He said, ‘You see, he got the stuff from Yusef s man.’
‘I could have guessed that.’
‘You could?’
‘Yes, but you see, Yusef s man is not the same as Yusef. It’s easy for him to disown a country storekeeper. In fact, for all we know, Yusef may be innocent It’s unlikely, but not impossible. Your own evidence would point to it. After all you’ve only just learned yourself what your storekeeper was doing.’
‘If there were clear evidence,’ Wilson said, ‘would the police prosecute?’
Scobie came to a standstill. ‘What’s that?’
Wilson blushed and mumbled. Then, with a venom that took Scobie completely by surprise, he said, ‘There are rumours going about that Yusef is protected.’
‘You’ve been here long enough to know what rumours are worth.’
‘They are all round the town.’
‘Spread by Tallit - or Yusef himself.’
‘Don’t misunderstand me,’ Wilson said. ‘You’ve been very kind to me -and Mrs Scobie has too. I thought you ought to know what’s been said.’
‘I’ve been here fifteen years, Wilson.’
‘Oh, I know,’ Wilson said, ‘this is impertinent. But people are worried about Tallit’s parrot. They say he was framed because Yusef wants him run out of town.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard that.’
‘They say that you and Yusef are on visiting terms. It’s a lie, of course, but...’
‘It’s perfectly true. I’m also on visiting terms with the sanitary inspector, but it wouldn’t prevent my prosecuting him ...’ He stopped abruptly. He said, ‘I have no intention of defending myself to you, Wilson.’
Wilson repeated, ‘I just thought you ought to know.’
‘You are too young for your job, Wilson.’
‘My job?’
‘Whatever it is.’
For the second time Wilson took him by surprise, breaking out with a crack in his voice, ‘Oh, you are unbearable. You are too damned honest to live.’ His face was aflame, even his knees seemed to blush with rage, shame, self-depreciation.
‘You ought to wear a hat, Wilson,’ was all Scobie said.
They stood facing each other on the stony path between the D.C.’s bungalow and the rest-house; the light lay flat across the rice-fields below them, and Scobie was conscious of how prominently they were silhouetted to the eyes of any watcher. ‘You sent Louise away,’ Wilson said, ‘because you were afraid of me.’
Scobie laughed gently. ‘This is sun, Wilson, just sun. We’ll forget about it in the morning.’
‘She couldn’t stand your stupid, unintelligent ... you don’t know what a woman like Louise thinks.’
‘I don’t suppose I do. Nobody wants another person to know that, Wilson.’
Wilson said, ‘I kissed her that evening...’
‘It’s the colonial sport, Wilson.’ He hadn’t meant to madden the young man: he was only anxious to let the occasion pass lightly, so that in the morning they could behave naturally to each other. It was just a touch of sun. he told himself; he had seen this happen times out of mind during fifteen years.
Wilson said, ‘She’s too good for you.’
‘For both of us.’
‘How did you get the money to send her away? That’s what I’d like to know. You don’t earn all that. I know. It’s printed in the Colonial Office List.’ If the young man had been less absurd, Scobie might have been angered and they might have ended friends. It was his serenity that stoked the flames. He said now, ‘Let’s talk about it tomorrow. We’ve all been upset by that child’s death. Come up to the bungalow and have a drink.’ He made to pass Wilson, but Wilson barred the way: a Wilson scarlet in the face with tears in the eyes. It was as if he had gone so far that he realized the only thing to do was to go farther - there was no return the way he had come. He said, ‘Don’t think I haven’t got my eye on you.’
The absurdity of the phrase took Scobie off his guard.
‘You watch your step,’ Wilson said, ‘and Mrs Rolt...’
‘What on earth has Mrs Rolt got to do with it?’
‘Don’t think I don’t know why you’ve stayed behind, haunted the hospital... While we were all at the funeral, you slunk down here ...’
‘You really are crazy, Wilson,’ Scobie said.
Suddenly Wilson sat down; it was if he had been folded up by some large invisible hand He put his head in his hands and wept.
‘It’s the sun,’ Scobie said. ‘Just the sun. Go and lie down,’ and taking off his hat he put it on Wilson’s head. Wilson looked up at him between his fingers - at the man who had seen his tears - with hatred.
Chapter Two
THE sirens were wailing for a total black-out, wailing through the rain which fell interminably; the boys scrambled into the kitchen quarters, and bolted the door as though to protect themselves from some devil of the bush. Without pause the hundred and forty-four inches of water continued their steady and ponderous descent upon the roofs of the port. It was incredible to imagine that any human beings, let alone the dispirited fever-soaked defeated of Vichy territory, would open an assault at this time of the year, and yet of course one remembered the Heights of Abraham ... A single feat of daring can alter the whole conception of what is possible.
Scobie went out into the dripping darkness holding his big striped umbrella: a mackintosh was too hot to wear. He walked all round his quarters; not a light showed, the shutters of the kitchen were closed, and the Creole houses were invisible behind the rain. A torch gleamed momentarily in the transport park across the road, but, when he shouted, it went out: a coincidence: no one there could have heard his voice above the hammering of the water on the roof. Up in Cape Station the officers’ mess was shining wetly towards the sea, but that was not his responsibility. The headlamps of the military lorries ran like a chain of beads along the edge of the hills, but that too was someone else’s affair.
Up the road behind the transport park a light went suddenly on in one of the Nissen huts where the minor officials lived; it was a hut that had been unoccupied the day before and presumably some visitor had just moved in. Scobie considered getting his car from the garage, but the hut was only a couple of hundred yards away, and he walked. Except for the sound of the rain, on the road, on the roofs, on the umbrella, there was absolute silence: only the dying moan of the sirens
continued for a moment or two to vibrate within the ear. It seemed to Scobie later that this was the ultimate border he had reached in happiness: being in darkness, alone, with the rain falling, without love or pity.
He knocked on the door of the Nissen hut, loudly because of the blows of the rain on the black roof like a tunnel. He had to knock twice before the door opened. The light for a moment blinded him. He said, ‘I’m sorry to bother you. One of your lights is showing.’
A woman’s voice said, ‘Oh, I’m sorry. It was careless ...’ His eyes cleared, but for a moment he couldn’t put a name to the intensely remembered features. He knew everyone in the colony. This was something that had come from outside ... a river ... early morning ... a dying child. ‘Why,’ he said, ‘it’s Mrs Rolt, isn’t it? I thought you were in hospital?’
‘Yes. Who are you? Do I know you?’
‘I’m Major Scobie of the police. I saw you at Pende.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember a thing that happened there.’
‘Can I fix your light?’
‘Of course. Please.’ He came in and drew the curtains close and shifted a table lamp. The hut was divided in two by a curtain: on one side a bed, a makeshift dressing-table: on the other a table, a couple of chairs - the few sticks of furniture of the pattern allowed to junior officials with salaries under £500 a year. He said, ‘They haven’t done you very proud, have they? I wish I’d known. I could have helped.’ He took her in closely now: the young worn-out face, with the hair gone dead ... The pyjamas she was wearing were too large for her: the body was lost in them: they fell in ugly folds. He looked to see whether the ring was still loose upon her finger, but it had gone altogether.