Free Colour Scheme by Ngaio Marsh Page B

is behaving dishonestly on the Peak. Because he is your guest we have said nothing, but now I find him talking to some silly young fellows amongst our people and putting a lot of bad ideas into their heads. Now that makes me very angry,” said old Rua, and his eyes flashed. “I do not like my young people to be taught to cheapen the culture of their race. It has been bad enough with Mr. Herbert Smith, who buys whisky for them and teaches them to make pigs of themselves. He is no good. But even
he
comes to me to warn me of this Questing.” The Colonel’s novel dropped with a loud slap. His eyebrows climbed his forehead, his eyes and mouth opened. He turned pale.
    “Hey?” he said. “Questing? What about Questing?”
    “You have not been listening, Colonel,” said Rua, rather crossly.
    “Yes, I have, only I didn’t catch everything. I’m getting deaf.”
    “I am sorry. I have been telling you that Mr. Questing has been looking for curios on the Peak and boasting that in a little while Wai-ata-tapu will be his property. I have to come to ask you in confidence if this is true.”
    “What’s all this about Questing?” demanded Dr. Ackrington, appearing at the doorway in his dressing gown. “ ’Evening, Rua. How are you?”
    “It began by being about Gaunt and a concert party,” said the Colonel unhappily. “It’s only just turned into something in confidence about Questing.”
    “Well, if it’s in confidence, why the devil did you call me? There seems to be a conspiracy in this house to deny my sciatica thermal treatment.”
    “I wanted to ask you if you thought Gaunt would like to go to a concert. Rua’s people have very kindly offered…”
    “How the devil do I know? Ask young Bell. Very nice of you, Rua, I must say.”
    “And then Rua began to talk about Questing and the Peak.”
    “Why don’t you call him Quisling and be done with it?” Dr. Ackrington demanded loudly. “It’s what he is, by God.”
    “James! I really must insist — You have no shred of evidence.”
    “Haven’t I? Haven’t I? Very well. Wait and see.”
    Rua stood up. “If it is not troubling you too much,” he» said, “perhaps you would ask Mr. Gaunt’s secretary…?”
    “Yes, yes,” the Colonel agreed hurriedly. “Of course. Wait a minute, will you?”
    He stumbled out of the room, and they heard him thump along the verandah towards Geoffrey Gaunt’s quarters.
    Rua’s old eyes were very bright and cunning as he looked at Dr. Ackrington, but he did not speak.
    “So he’s been trespassing, has he?” asked Dr. Ackrington venomously. “I could have told you that when the
Hippolyte
was torpedoed.”
    Rua made a brusque movement with his wrinkled hands but still he did not speak.
    “He does it by night sometimes, doesn’t he?” Dr. Ackrington went on. “Doesn’t he go up by night, with a flash-lamp? Good God, my dear fellow, I’ve seen it myself. Curios be damned.”
    “Somehow,” Rua said mildly, “I have never been able to enjoy spy stories. They always seem to me to be incredible.”
    “Indeed!” Dr. Ackrington rejoined acidly. “So this country, alone in the English-speaking world, stands immune from the activities of enemy agents. And why, pray? Do you think the enemy is frightened of us? Amazing complacency!”
    “But he has been seen digging.”
    “Do you imagine he would be seen semaphoring? Of course he digs. No doubt he robs your ancestors’ graves. No doubt he will have some infamous booty to exhibit when he is brought to book.”
    Rua pinched his lower lip and became very solemn. “I have felt many regrets,” he said, “for the old age which compelled me to watch my grandsons and great-grandsons set out to war without me. But if you are right, there is still work in Ao-tea-roa for an old warrior.” He chuckled, and Dr. Ackrington looked apprehensively at him.
    “I have been indiscreet,” he said. “Keep this under your hat, Rua. A word too soon and we shan’t get him. I may tell