deserted her or something?”
Olmeijer grunted and looked up from his book. “He’s just a weak man. Just weak, that’s all.”
“Could be.” I got up. “I think I’ll head back now. Mind if I come up tomorrow? I’d like to be here when Underwood returns.”
“See you tomorrow.” Nye lifted his hand in a salute. “I wish you the best of luck, Bastable.”
* * *
T hat night I dined on fish and fruit with Hira. I told him about my conversation at the hotel and my second encounter with Dempsey. His earlier remark had aroused my curiosity and I asked Hira if he knew anything at all of Dempsey’s reasons for coming to the island.
Hira could add little about the opium eater. “All I know is that he was in better condition when he arrived than he is now. I don’t have much to do with the European community, as you may have noticed.” He looked sardonically at me. “Englishmen often start acting strangely when they’ve been out East a few years. Maybe they feel guilty about exploiting us, eh?”
I refused to rise to this and we completed our meal in relative silence.
After dinner we sat back in our chairs and smoked, discussing the health of the coolie I had found. Hira told me he was recovering reasonably quickly. I was just about to go up to bed when the door opened suddenly and a nun rushed into Hira’s room. “Doctor—quickly—it is Underwood!” Her face was full of anxiety. “He has been attacked. I think he is dying.”
We hurried downstairs to the little entrance hall of the hospital. In the light from the oil lamp I saw Olmeijer and Nye standing there. Their faces were pale and tense and they were staring helplessly down at something which lay on an improvised stretcher they had placed on the floor. They must have carried it all the way from the hotel.
Hira crouched down and inspected the man on the stretcher. “My God!” he said.
Nye addressed me. “He was dumped on the steps of the hotel about an hour ago. I think some Chinaman objected to his wife or maybe his daughter running off with Underwood. I don’t know.” Grimly he wiped his face with his handkerchief. “This couldn’t have happened before the bloody war...”
I gagged as I got a good look at the battered mess of flesh on the stretcher. “Poor devil!”
Hira straightened up and looked significantly at me. There was no hope for Underwood. He turned to Nye and Olmeijer. “Can you take the stretcher up to the ward, please?”
I followed as the two men picked up the stretcher and staggered as they climbed the short flight of steps to the ward. With the nurses, I helped get him onto the bed, but it was plain that virtually every bone in his body had been broken. He was scarcely recognizable as a human being. They had taken their time in beating him up and he couldn’t last long.
Hira began to fill a hypodermic. The beaten man’s eyes opened and he saw us. His lips moved.
I bent to listen.
“Bloody Chinks... bloody woman... done for me. Found us in the mine... The sheets... Oh, God... The bloody clubs...”
Hira gave him a hefty injection. “Cocaine,” he said to me. “It’s about all we have now.”
I looked at the next bed and saw the coolie I had rescued staring at Underwood with an expression of quiet satisfaction.
“This couldn’t be some sort of retaliation, could it?” I asked Hira.
“Who knows?” Hira looked down at the Australian as the man’s eyes glazed and closed again.
Nye put his fist to his lips and cleared his throat. “I wonder if somebody ought to tell Nesbit...” He looked at Underwood and pursed his lips. “There’ll be hell to pay when Begg hears about this.”
Hira seemed almost amused. “It could mean the end.”
Thoughtfully, Olmeijer rubbed at his neck. “Need Begg be told?”
“The man has been attacked,” I said. “A couple of hours or so and it will be murder. He can’t last the night.”
“If Begg goes on the rampage, old boy, we all stand a chance of being
Olmeijer grunted and looked up from his book. “He’s just a weak man. Just weak, that’s all.”
“Could be.” I got up. “I think I’ll head back now. Mind if I come up tomorrow? I’d like to be here when Underwood returns.”
“See you tomorrow.” Nye lifted his hand in a salute. “I wish you the best of luck, Bastable.”
* * *
T hat night I dined on fish and fruit with Hira. I told him about my conversation at the hotel and my second encounter with Dempsey. His earlier remark had aroused my curiosity and I asked Hira if he knew anything at all of Dempsey’s reasons for coming to the island.
Hira could add little about the opium eater. “All I know is that he was in better condition when he arrived than he is now. I don’t have much to do with the European community, as you may have noticed.” He looked sardonically at me. “Englishmen often start acting strangely when they’ve been out East a few years. Maybe they feel guilty about exploiting us, eh?”
I refused to rise to this and we completed our meal in relative silence.
After dinner we sat back in our chairs and smoked, discussing the health of the coolie I had found. Hira told me he was recovering reasonably quickly. I was just about to go up to bed when the door opened suddenly and a nun rushed into Hira’s room. “Doctor—quickly—it is Underwood!” Her face was full of anxiety. “He has been attacked. I think he is dying.”
We hurried downstairs to the little entrance hall of the hospital. In the light from the oil lamp I saw Olmeijer and Nye standing there. Their faces were pale and tense and they were staring helplessly down at something which lay on an improvised stretcher they had placed on the floor. They must have carried it all the way from the hotel.
Hira crouched down and inspected the man on the stretcher. “My God!” he said.
Nye addressed me. “He was dumped on the steps of the hotel about an hour ago. I think some Chinaman objected to his wife or maybe his daughter running off with Underwood. I don’t know.” Grimly he wiped his face with his handkerchief. “This couldn’t have happened before the bloody war...”
I gagged as I got a good look at the battered mess of flesh on the stretcher. “Poor devil!”
Hira straightened up and looked significantly at me. There was no hope for Underwood. He turned to Nye and Olmeijer. “Can you take the stretcher up to the ward, please?”
I followed as the two men picked up the stretcher and staggered as they climbed the short flight of steps to the ward. With the nurses, I helped get him onto the bed, but it was plain that virtually every bone in his body had been broken. He was scarcely recognizable as a human being. They had taken their time in beating him up and he couldn’t last long.
Hira began to fill a hypodermic. The beaten man’s eyes opened and he saw us. His lips moved.
I bent to listen.
“Bloody Chinks... bloody woman... done for me. Found us in the mine... The sheets... Oh, God... The bloody clubs...”
Hira gave him a hefty injection. “Cocaine,” he said to me. “It’s about all we have now.”
I looked at the next bed and saw the coolie I had rescued staring at Underwood with an expression of quiet satisfaction.
“This couldn’t be some sort of retaliation, could it?” I asked Hira.
“Who knows?” Hira looked down at the Australian as the man’s eyes glazed and closed again.
Nye put his fist to his lips and cleared his throat. “I wonder if somebody ought to tell Nesbit...” He looked at Underwood and pursed his lips. “There’ll be hell to pay when Begg hears about this.”
Hira seemed almost amused. “It could mean the end.”
Thoughtfully, Olmeijer rubbed at his neck. “Need Begg be told?”
“The man has been attacked,” I said. “A couple of hours or so and it will be murder. He can’t last the night.”
“If Begg goes on the rampage, old boy, we all stand a chance of being
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