Gay Phoenix Read Free Page B

something which the mind of a retired policeman like himself might naturally turn to. Had what might be called authentically English crime a prestige value among Australian crooks? Could an English criminal, drifting out here, exploit in this local upper class its almost unconscious assumption that it was more intimately acquainted with things English than was in fact the case? But this was an obscure speculation. It faded from Appleby’s mind as inconsequently as it had entered it.
    There were six men all told – sprawled or sitting in wicker chairs in a shallow arc beneath a broad verandah. The cigar smoke, bluish in a low light from two subdued lamps, blended oddly and pleasantly with the pervasive smell of the eucalypts. A couple of these nearby showed ragged silhouettes against the luminous heaven. Appleby wondered about the phrase ‘up a gum tree’. If you were up one, it didn’t look as if it would be easy to get down again. But probably the expression wasn’t of Australian origin. He was thinking of enquiring about this when he became aware that conversation was fading out among his five companions. It hadn’t come abruptly to a halt; people were simply permitting themselves pauses – and glances – which somehow intimated polite expectation. Appleby tumbled to it that somebody was expected to read a paper, open a discussion – something of that sort. It couldn’t, fortunately, be himself: not without any advance warning being given at all. He had, indeed, found that Australians had a certain appetite for what they called lecturettes, and did at times expect impromptu performance. But this present company was of a sort which would be more considerate. Probably it was always the host who was expected to pipe up. Yes, that would be it.
    This proved to be correct. Budgery had once more made the round of his guests, solicitous about brandy as before. He now sat down, and everybody looked at him in a convention of keen expectation. Probably he was going to produce a manuscript from a modest inside pocket, and deliver himself of it after some apologetically-toned preliminary word. Appleby experienced, once more, the sense of familiar matters in hand.
    There was, however, no manuscript. Budgery spoke fluently and coherently without note. Moreover, he took evident pleasure in the exercise. It was quite probable, Appleby thought a shade apprehensively, that he could keep it up indefinitely.
    ‘We are all very glad to have Sir John Appleby with us this evening, and only sorry that he will not be staying longer in Adelaide. He goes on to Perth tomorrow, it seems, before flying home. We all believe that there is much to be said for Adelaide – including the fact that not much is said about it in the world at large. We live in a kind of pastoral seclusion, which is a pleasant thing; indeed, it is almost Arcadian in some regards. Of course, we do keep our standards as we may. I hope Appleby has found that our policemen behave well. If he were a medical man, I don’t think his visit would altogether discourage him. And we would have liked, all of us, to show him more. Instead, we have to wish him bon voyage almost as we welcome him. Ave atque vale , in fact. May he drop down at Heathrow as fresh as paint in a few days’ time.’
    Budgery paused, and these courtesies were decorously supported by a murmur from his companions, none of whom had set eyes on their subject before this dinner party.
    ‘Thank you very much,’ Appleby said. ‘I shall always remember this delightful evening.’
    Appleby believed these words to be a polite fiction – which was certainly how they would be estimated by these punctilious and agreeably clubbable persons. The event, oddly enough, was to prove them to have possessed a certain prophetic quality.
    ‘I must confess to being a little relieved,’ Budgery went on easily, ‘that I haven’t, by some stiff coincidence, chosen to ramble to you this evening on some stray fragment of