Miles Off Course (36 page)

T
he halls of the National Art Gallery in Sydney were, on this day, nearly deserted. Edna rocked gently back on her heels as she gazed at
Chaucer at the Court of Edward III
. The oil had been one of the first ever purchased by the gallery and was still the anchor of its European Art collection. Her own artistic tastes lay
elsewhere, with the modernist school, but Humphrey Abercrombie seemed more at home with British realists like Ford Madox Brown. Still, the painting was not without its allure. The classical
formality of its composition was almost sculptural.

Glancing at her watch, Edna looked around for the Englishman. He strolled over to her, beaming. “Dear lady, this is a simply superb way to spend a morning. An appreciation of art in the
farthest outpost… who would have thought!”

Edna laughed. Humphrey Abercrombie was ridiculous, but so completely unaware of it that she could not take offence. She did not find him unpleasant company. His earlier nervousness seemed to
have improved somewhat. It had been at least an hour since he had felt the need to duck behind a door and leave the room for fear of some imaginary assailant. In the beginning, Edna had dived out
of sight with him, quite enjoying the drama of his paranoia, but very quickly it had become tiresome. Admittedly she had recognised some of the people from whom he insisted on hiding as Communists,
but considering the number of people he avoided, at least a couple were bound to be from the Left. She’d tried greeting them cheerily to show him that there was nothing to fear, but whenever
she turned to introduce him, Abercrombie had disappeared. She came to understand Rowland’s impatience with the man. Fortunately, Abercrombie had seemed to settle down a little in the gallery
and the last hour had been passed in relatively agreeable conversation.

Occasionally he gave the sculptress vague insights into Rowland’s past.

“Rowly was never much good with figures,” Abercrombie said, while professing his own proficiency in mathematics. “Always getting thrashed by the master…”

“Oh poor Rowly!”

“Yes, beastly man really. I tried to help Rowly with the subject, naturally, but he was hopeless.” There was faint smugness about his smile.

Edna observed, intrigued. It seemed an odd thing to gloat over. “Rowly has other talents,” she said.

“Yes… of course he does, capital fellow—a real Briton,” Abercrombie blustered, startled. “I didn’t mean to suggest… I have nothing but the most
sincere admiration and affection for Rowly.”

“I can see that.” Edna laughed, pitying the man in his discomfort. “I just meant that Rowly seems of have got by quite well without mathematics.”

“Yes, of course he has… people do, you see…”

“Rowly was always rather clever with languages, I believe.”

“Yes, brilliant in fact.” Abercrombie seemed keen to extol Rowland’s virtues now. “The French master would applaud as he walked in!”

Edna giggled. “Really? That does sound a bit peculiar.”

Abercrombie nodded. “Frenchman, you know. Mad Frog really.”

There was a brief moment of silence during which Edna considered informing Abercrombie that her mother was French. In the end she didn’t. “Shall we take a walk in the Domain, before
we head back?” she asked finally.

Abercrombie offered her his arm. “I am at your disposal, dear lady.”

Edna ran into the drawing room, breathless. Her hat was awry. Her dark copper tresses had escaped beneath it into stray wisps, and she was flushed.

“Ed!” Milton put down his drink. “What’s wrong?”

“Mr. Abercrombie hasn’t come back here, has he?”

Clyde looked up now. “No… why?”

“I’ve lost him.” The sculptress sank wearily into an armchair.

“What do you mean you lost him?” Milton asked. “He’s a man, not a purse.”

“Where’s Rowly?” Edna demanded with a note of panic.

“In the kitchens—he’s inviting the staff to this party.”

“Really?” Edna stopped, surprised and for a moment distracted. “What a lovely idea.”

“Milt’s actually,” Clyde replied. “I think Rowly just wanted to see the look on that woman Carstairs’ face.”

Rowland walked into the room in time to catch Clyde’s words. “Miss Carstairs has given her notice, I’m afraid.” He smiled at Edna. “But the rest of the staff, with
the exception of the cook, have accepted. I suppose I’d better hire some more staff to attend to the guests and whatnot. I should probably have thought this through…”

“Rowly, I’ve lost Mr. Abercrombie!”

“How could you lose him?”

“He’s gone. I took him for a walk in the Domain and he ran away.”

“Good Lord, Ed, he’s not a puppy—what do you mean he ran away?”

“There were some men from the Party at Speakers’ Corner—Mr. Ryan and his friends. As soon as he saw them, Mr. Abercrombie just turned and ran away.”

“Did you look for him?” Clyde asked.

“Of course. He’s vanished. Rowly you don’t think there’s anything to this notion that the Communists are after him?”

“More likely the bloke needs to be committed,” Milton muttered.

Rowland was clearly leaning in favour of Milton’s assessment. He retrieved his jacket and slipped it on. “I suppose we’re going to have to find him now. He’s probably got
lost or some such thing.”

“Rowly, aren’t you supposed to be keeping a low profile until these kidnappers are caught?” Clyde reminded him. “That security bloke, Jenkins won’t be happy with
you wandering the streets. Milt and I could…”

“I’m not going to stay inside
Woodlands
for the rest of my life,” Rowland replied firmly. “And we can’t leave Humphrey out there.”

“I’m so sorry, Rowly,” Edna said.

“Heavens, it’s not your fault, Ed. Humphrey’s always been a bloody fool.”

“We should take the Rolls,” Milton suggested. “It’s more discreet than your car.”

“I’ll call Johnston,” Rowland agreed. Taking the chauffeur would make the search easier.

“Perhaps you should take your gun too, Rowly,” Milton suggested.

Rowland smiled. “No thanks… somehow it always ends up pointed at me.” He grabbed his hat. “Let’s find Humphrey. We can have him committed after the
party.”

Johnston stopped the car outside the ornately-wrought iron gates at the entrance to the Domain. The afternoon was slipping into evening and the parklands were falling into
shadow as they began to empty of polite society. The bedraggled figures of the men who would find refuge for the night in the rock walls of Mrs. Macquarie’s Point trickled in through the
gates.

The residents of
Woodlands House
set out on foot in search of Rowland Sinclair’s missing guest. Edna took them to the place where she had last seen the Englishman.

“He ran that way,” she said, gazing at the tree line as if she expected to see him there.

Rowland frowned. “I don’t see how he could possibly be lost here.” He turned to Edna. “Where exactly did you take him, Ed? Perhaps he went back to one of those spots in
search of you.”

They spent the next hour and a half retracing the route Edna and Abercrombie had taken. By the time they arrived at the neoclassical Archibald Fountain in Hyde Park, where the tour of Sydney had
apparently begun, Rowland was becoming concerned. He glanced back at St Mary’s Cathedral, just over the road from where they stood. He wondered if the Englishman would have sought refuge in
the church. The gothic British grandeur of the building would have attracted him, if nothing else.

He waved to the others who were gathered near the fountain’s bronze minotaur. “I’m just going to check St Mary’s,” he called, as he walked briskly towards the road.
For a moment he thought he’d caught sight of Humphrey Abercrombie on the stairs of the cathedral. He quickened his pace, shouting “Humphrey!”

He didn’t hear Edna scream, “Rowly!”

He didn’t see the car until it was too late.

T
he Pontiac screeched to a stop just in front of him. The back door swung open before Rowland could react. He was only feet away from the barrel
of the gun.

“Get in the car, Sinclair.”

Rowland froze.

“Now, Sinclair! I’m bloody sick of chasing you around… I’ll happily shoot you and be done with it.”

Rowland recognised the fair brows and the T-shaped scar: the face he had seen by the flame of a match at the steps of Caves House.

A Whippet blasted its horn as it tried to get past the Pontiac.

“Rowly!”

Clyde yanked him back as Milton kicked the door shut. It closed hard on the hand that held the gun and the weapon was dropped amid screaming profanity. The tyres screeched again and the Pontiac
roared away.

Rowland stepped back from the road a little stunned. Edna reached up to grasp his face. “Rowly, are you all right?”

Milton picked up the abandoned gun. He switched the safety back on. “That was close, Rowly.”

Rowland nodded. “Yes… Thanks…”

“These blokes are bloody clowns, but they’re flaming persistent,” Clyde muttered. “We’d better get you back to
Woodlands
before they try again.”

Edna put her hand on Rowland’s arm. “Rowly darling, I know you think Mr. Abercrombie is a little hysterical, but is there a chance he might have been abducted?”

Rowland removed his hat and pushed back his hair. “Maybe,” he admitted. “Perhaps I’d better talk to Delaney.”