Free The Trouble With Harry by Jack Trevor Story Page B

into the bracken as soon as they could for fear of meeting somebody who might wonder what they were doing.
    The journey from the rhododendron to the grave, which was no more than fifty yards as the crow flies, seemed to take a small eternity, for it was no easy matter to push the bracken aside with the head, keep the feet clear of brambles, and at the same time hold the body securely. And when at last they lowered the corpse into the grave it was, in that grim spot, almost dark.
    ‘After this,’ Sam remarked, as they straightened their backs, ‘if you must kill, stick to rabbits. The corpse is smaller.’
    Captain Wiles, who had begun to push the earthover Harry’s face, suddenly swung around and cried: ‘Rabbits! I didn’t tell you, did I, Sammy? I shot a flipping rabbit this afternoon. Killed it stone dead.’
    ‘Don’t shout,’ Sam cautioned. ‘I know you did. I was with Jennifer when Abie took it round to you.’
    ‘Jennifer, eh?’ said the captain, helping to cover up the body. ‘You didn’t waste much time, did you? Still, I don’t blame you. A very nice widow she’ll make, I don’t doubt. Very nice indeed.’
    ‘Let’s talk about that when we’ve finished burying Harry, shall we?’ Sam said, as Harry’s face vanished beneath the soil.
    ‘No need to get huffy,’ said the captain. ‘I don’t want to talk about your affairs – I’ve got affairs of my own.’
    Sam slung a glance at him. ‘You mean my protégée?’
    ‘Come again,’ said the captain.
    ‘Miss Graveley,’ said Sam. ‘The lady I renovated down at Mrs Wiggs’ this afternoon. A most remarkable reversion to femininity, that.’
    The captain stopped digging and leant on his spade. ‘I don’t quite get you, Sammy boy.’
    Sam also leant on his spade. They faced each other across the gloom of the grave. ‘She came down to the Emporium in high excitement,’ he said. ‘Wanted ribbon for her hair and a new cup and all kinds of things. I gave her a little make-up and a new hairstyle – don’t say you didn’t notice?’
    The captain scratched his chin. ‘Funny,’ he said, reflectively. ‘I must have had what they call a preview, Sammy. When I saw her on the heath this afternoon – that was just after I’d shot Harry – I wasn’t struck by her femin – feminit – what you said; but when I got to thinking about her later on I saw her just the way she was when I went to tea.’
    ‘I think that’s significant,’ Sam said.
    ‘She’s a very nice lady, Sam.
Very
nice.’
    ‘We’re all nice,’ Sam said, resuming his digging. ‘I don’t see how anyone could fail to like us.’
    ‘That’s the way I feel today, Sammy.’ Captain Wiles fell to with fresh energy. ‘I don’t know if I’ve grown rose-coloured glasses or if—’
    ‘Or if it’s love,’ said Sam, whacking the earth down on Harry with the back of the spade.
    ‘What did Jennifer think of my shooting?’ thecaptain asked, smoothing the ground level and raking dead bracken over it.
    ‘You mean Mrs Rogers?’ Sam corrected him.
    ‘I don’t know about Mrs Rogers,’ said the captain. ‘I reckon I can count myself a friend of the family. I brought her a happy release with one bullet.’
    ‘One bullet?’ said Sam. ‘How about the hedgehog?’
    ‘One bullet for the hedgehog, one for the paper bag, and one for Harry,’ said the captain with dignity.
    ‘How about the rabbit?’ Sam enquired.
    ‘And one for the rab—’
    Captain Wiles stopped short and Sam Marlow looked at him questioningly. The little man was standing with a stupid expression on his face, counting his fingers. Slowly he turned and his eyes were wide and incredulous.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ Sam asked.
    The captain took up his spade and began removing the leaf mould from Harry’s grave.
    ‘Hey! What’s wrong? What’s bitten you?’ Sam demanded.
    ‘Three bullets I fired,’ muttered the captain. ‘Three. One for the hedgehog, one for the bag, one for the—’
    ‘The little