Appleby's End by Michael Innes Read Free Book Online

woman’s voice?

 
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4
    With a bump and a lurch the carriage came to a stop. Some stray article of stores – it felt like a heavy, sharp-cornered tin – hit Appleby on the head and a nobbly sack tumbled over on his chest. It was evident that the whole Raven equipage had tilted over at an uncertain angle. A window had dropped open, and snowflakes and curses drifted in from the dark.
    â€œWould you say it was the axle?” asked Appleby. “Or just Spot casting a shoe?”
    â€œNeither. It’s the ford. We’re stuck in it.”
    â€œGood Lord! Are you sure?”
    Judith laughed what was now a thoroughly wicked laugh. “I am sitting,” she said, “in several inches of water. And from this, as your professional training will tell you, there is the inference–”
    â€œCan’t you get up? Let me try to give you a hand.” Appleby groped cautiously in the darkness and found himself clutching what seemed to be a bare arm. “Now, then–”
    â€œBut that’s the nape of my neck!” Judith’s protest was vigorous. “Don’t you know about the man who picked up one of his children like that?”
    â€œI know nothing about him. Is the ford sometimes deep enough–”
    â€œThe child was killed instantly. The man was fearfully distressed. And he had to explain it to the doctor. ‘Doctor,’ he said, ‘all I did was this.’ And he turned and picked up another of his children–”
    â€œBe quiet,” said Appleby. He himself now felt water up to his knees, and he was not at all disposed to sit back and listen to macabre stories. “I think I can just get my head out of that window.”
    With considerable effort he did so, and was rewarded with a series of unexpectedly clear observations. For the moon, as if unable to restrain its curiosity in this nocturnal tragi-comedy, had burst through the clouds and now hung, idle and gaping, over a snow-covered landscape through which wound a turbulent stream lined with gaunt trees. In the middle of the stream stood the carriage; the level of the water had risen above the hubs, and in front had almost covered the empty and down-trailing shafts. At this last appearance Appleby stared for a moment in mute astonishment; then he twisted his head and looked backwards at the bank. The figures of three Ravens were discernible. All were shouting and one of them – who must surely be Robert – was prancing up and down, waving his arms. And what they were yelling was clearly distinguishable. “ Hey -hoe,” yelled the abandoned Ravens; “Hey- HOE-OH! ”
    Appleby looked the other way. On the farther side were Spot and Heyhoe himself – the former tethered to a tree; the latter apparently sitting on a stump and contemplating the scene with calm. Appleby twisted back into the carriage. “Heyhoe,” he said, “seems to have cut the traces and got away with Spot. They’re on the farther side.”
    â€œThe horrid scoundrel!” Judith was justifiably indignant at this deplorable lack of fidelity in a family retainer and blood relation. “What’s he doing about it now?”
    â€œI rather think he’s filling his pipe.”
    â€œThe disgusting old man! I hope Spot kicks him. But can you see the others?”
    â€œYes, they’re on the other bank and in a considerable state of excitement – not at all like Heyhoe. Though I don’t know that at the moment they’re being any more useful.” Appleby spoke somewhat tartly. “Yelling like mad, all three of them.”
    â€œThree of them!” Judith was dismayed. “But there ought to be four. Three old ones: Everard, Luke and Robert; and one young one: Mark. Do stick your head out again and see.”
    Appleby did as he was bid. There was certainly a Raven missing. He was about to turn back and confirm this disconcerting intelligence when a voice