Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction
On crossing the bridge, in Denleigh valley, Haskins saw Geary lounging
at his door, looking big and black and sullen and dangerous. However,
a white man was not to be intimidated by a barbarous animal like this,
so Gerald walked up to him coolly, and wished him good-day. Geary grew
green under his black skin, and glared like a wild beast, his hands
working convulsively. At his back, in the passage, could be seen the
scared face of Mrs. Geary. She evidently dreaded what Haskins' errand
might be, since she must have known of her husband's footpad attack.
"What might you be doing here, sah?" asked Geary, rolling his eyes.
"Taking a stroll, Geary--simply taking a stroll. How is your arm?"
The negro glared and took a step forward, his hand slipping round to
the back. Haskins moved aside and gripped the revolver which he had
taken the precaution to bring with him. Mr. Geary's knife was too
dangerous a weapon to be met with mere fists. "I am quite ready," said
the white man coolly: "you bring out that knife and I shoot."
"Dat would be murder, sah," whimpered Geary, reading danger in
Haskins' steady eye: but he withdrew his hand from his back all the
same. "You nearly murdered me afore, sah."
"I winged you as a murderous dog," said Gerald sharply, "and you quite
deserve to be shot. Are you not afraid lest I should bring you into
court for attacking me? You would get a long term of imprisonment,
Adonis. We don't allow these sort of things in England."
"You do what you like, sah. Major Rebb, him look after me."
"I don't think Major Rebb will interfere," said Gerald carelessly.
Geary showed his white teeth significantly. "Dat massa ob mine will
see dat all is safe wid me, sah, until he die."
"Ah, that means you can force him to protect you."
"I say noting, sah."
"Strange--for you were always garrulous. Where is your amiable smile,
Mr. Geary, and your polite manners? I always knew you to be a
murderous hound. But you might have spared poor Bellaria."
Geary flung up his hands, and looked greener than ever. "I did not hab
noting to do wid dat woman, sah."
"Oh, I think so--stand where you are and keep your hands in front of
you," cried Haskins sharply, "or I'll send a bullet through you."
The negro's eyes rolled, and he looked round for assistance. But the
population of Denleigh were indoors partaking of the evening meal, and
beyond a few children playing far down the stream no one was in sight.
"I no kill dat Bellaria," he repeated doggedly, but did not venture to
grip his knife. He had experienced the shooting of his opponent
before.
"You liar! You came back here, and, after having had your arm bound
up, you went to the Pixy's House."
This chance shot of Haskins' hit the mark. "No, sah; no sah," gasped
the big man, but his knees knocked together.
"You did," cried Haskins, following up his advantage, "and Major Rebb
went also."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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