Mr Jelly’s Business by Arthur W. Upfield

Author:Arthur W. Upfield
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Australian, Aboriginal Detective, Classic Crime
ISBN: 9781875892433
Publisher: ETT Imprint
Published: 2008-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Mr Thorn’s Plant

“I HAD a game with the dogs,” William told Bony on his return. “After I left you I kept the bike down to five miles an hour. Turning west at the old York Road, I saw a car pulling up at the gate the other side of the fence, so I went on for a quarter of a mile fairly quick and then stopped and got off. By that time the car was through the gate and coming up behind me, and in its headlights I saw Loftus’s three dogs nosing my trail like bloodhounds.

“As per instructions, I set sail for the pub end of Burra, trailing all round the town and ending up at the empty garage. In I went, trail and all, and once inside I picked up the trail and put it into the tool bag, opened the back door, pushed the bike outside, and left it leaning against the building. Then I slipped round to the front and was just in time to see two dogs, noses to the ground, going inside. Three more dogs followed them before the three from here, and nine more followed them eight.

“As I was leaving I seen Mrs Poole’s cow, leading Mrs Henry’s pack of goats, coming along the road right dead on the trail, and, between there and here, I counted two horses, another cow, four dogs, and about five million rabbits. By the morning there’ll be a menagerie outside that garage. When Burra wakes up tomorrow the people will wonder how that garage got turned into a Noah’s Ark.”

“It wull be a graand sicht,” murmured Bony, affecting a Scotch accent. “You did excellent work. Well, we must move off to the hall.”

“How did you get on?”

“The time period was too short to secure satisfactory results, supposing there were results to be secured.”

“Do you still reckon Loftus isn’t at Leonora?”

“Between ourselves, I do, but ask no questions, because really I do hate to tell lies, even though I am an expert.”

After travelling a quarter of a mile William pulled up.

“Sorry, but I have got to tell you,” he said, much hindered by his chuckling, “what a fool I was not to let into that garage Mrs Poole’s cow and Mrs Henry’s goats.”

“There will be enough recriminations without adding to them,” said the delighted Bony.

Fifteen minutes later William stopped the machine about four hundred yards from the hall. Bony got out of the mechanic’s overalls, rolled up in them the bottle of decoy, and tied the parcel to the pillion seat.

“I shall not want you any more tonight,” he said, to add with a low laugh, “I will try to get out early in the morning to see the animals gathered round the garage. Thank you for your assistance tonight. I am going to rely on your discretion.”

“You be easy. The less in a joke the better the joke. Pleased to do any other jobs you want done. Hooroo!”

Bony waited till the cycle’s tail-light had vanished up the wide straight road before walking the remaining distance to the hall.

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