Saxon sat on the edge of my bed and fingered his long jaw. “This, Mr. Garry, is a jurisdictional matter. Supposedly, all such things are handled by Colonel Rith-Lee’s bureau. However, I feel that this is a time when I can afford to step in. I’m doing it because I believe you. If you have lied to me, this interference may cost me a great deal of local prestige. I know that I am going to make an enemy out of the colonel. I have a plan which I won’t bother to explain to you. You will be here to see it in operation.” He turned to the nearest policeman and issued some terse instructions in Singhalese. The man hurried to the bathroom door. He pulled out a knife and cut one of Kaymark’s hands free. The arm drooped heavily. Then he put his hand against the lieutenant’s shoulder and cut the other bond. As he slashed it through, he pushed the body toward the bathroom. The corpse thudded onto the tile floor. The man pulled it farther into the bathroom. Then, with a damp towel, he rubbed up the spots of blood on the hardwood floor of the main room. He threw the towel into the bathroom and closed the door.
Saxon picked up the phone. “Mr. Van Hosen’s room, please. Oh, he’s in the bar? Connect me with the bar, please.” He waited a few moments. “Mr. Van Hosen? This is Leslie Saxon of the Central Police Bureau. I’m in room three ten. Could you arrange to come up here for a few moments? Thank you.”
He hung up and turned to me. “When Van Hosen is here, I don’t want either of you to say a word. Let me talk without interruption.” He gave some more instructions in Singhalese and one of the policemen hurried out of the room.
We all remained quiet. The colonel appeared to sleep again. I fumbled with a cigarette. Saxon sat as motionless and grave as a statue.
The policeman opened the door at the first tap. Van Hosen blinked as he saw the group, and then he smiled. He stepped in timidly, his hat in his hand, a mild and meager man.
“Sit down, please, Mr. Van Hosen. Over here on the bed will be excellent. I have a few questions to ask you which will—” At that point the phone rang. Saxon picked it up and held his hand over the mouthpiece. “Pardon me a moment, I was expecting a call.” He removed his hand and spoke into the phone. “Saxon here. Oh, yes, Mr. Wend. You got my message.”
I happened to be looking at Van Hosen. His mouth twitched a bit when Saxon mentioned the name Wend.
“I have rather a strange story here, Mr. Wend. Very strange. You know a man named Van Hosen?... Slightly, eh. Well, Mr. Van Hosen wishes us to supply him with private transportation away from Ceylon. In return he has given us certain information. I have here a list of some sort of uprising. There is also a list of places where arms are supposed to be hidden, and some kind of an inventory. A great deal of equipment... I agree with you, Mr. Wend, it does sound fantastic.
“Also, he claims that you and he and a Mr. O’Dell, who died this afternoon, a Lieutenant Kaymark, who died within the hour, and a Miss Severence, who died recently, were the nucleus of some sort of weird organization planning a revolution in Ceylon.
“He claims to have come from Java during the war as a Japanese agent... What was that? What has it got to do with you? He states in this report of his, which I have in writing, that you killed Miss Severence, the doorboy of the January Club, and also Lieutenant Kaymark. He accuses Mr. O’Dell of having killed an American officer some time ago.”
He stopped talking and listened. I watched Van Hosen. The man was trying hard to keep all expression off his face. His hands were held rigidly against his thighs. The rosebud lips seemed much paler than they had been when he had first visited me.
Then Saxon spoke again into the phone. “Then you believe that the man is ill? You know nothing of such plots and murders? Suppose you stop in at the Bureau at your earliest convenience and give me your story about Van Hosen in person. What was that?... No, we have nothing to hold him on until we’ve made a detailed check of these reports of his... Certainly. Thank you very much, Mr. Wend.” He hung up the receiver gently and turned to Van Hosen. Saxon wore a small and very confident smile.
“What kind of a farce is this, Saxon?” Van Hosen demanded.
Saxon shrugged. “Checkmate, my friend. You do play chess, don’t you? Good. I believe that all the things which I told your employee, Wend, are correct. Assuming that is so, I’m perfectly willing to let you go. If it is correct, you well know that he’ll kill you before you can explain, and I don’t believe death comes easy in your group for those who inform. You have one small opening, but a very obvious one. You can give me the information which I told Wend you had already given. Then I can guarantee you police protection. If my basic assumption is wrong, you can stand and walk briskly out, smiling at my stupidity as you go.”
Van Hosen stood up and, with careful dignity, smoothed out his rumpled jacket. He stroked the small beard and stared at Saxon. “My good man, you must certainly be mad. All you people are mad.”
“You have the privilege of thinking us anything you please. We can’t alter your opinions. Only your life. I remember seeing a man once who informed on the patriots in the Burmese underground. He was a man of your build, Van Hosen. They bound a tight white sash around his naked belly and staked him out, back down, in the sun. The sash was very thin. Under the sash they placed several of those hard-shelled beetles that you find at night in the jungle. They hate the light. When the sun strikes them, they dig down into the jungle floor, dig deeply. That man didn’t die pleasantly, Mr. Van Hosen.”
“A story to frighten children.”
“You are free to leave.”
Van Hosen walked to the door. He placed his hand on the knob and opened it. Then he turned back and looked at Saxon. He licked his lips. “Suppose that I contend that you have endangered my life by telling lies to Wend. Suppose he is not well balanced. Shouldn’t I have the protection of the police?”
“I told you that I have nothing on which to hold you. I refuse to hold you.”
“Then imagine the absurd eventuality that these lies that you told were true. Suppose that I could provide you with the lists and the proof you demand. Suppose I were a criminal. What guarantees could you give such a man for turning over the information?”
“None whatsoever, except the one already stated. The protection of the Bureau from the revenge of your fellows.”
Again he turned toward the door. He asked a last question, his voice hoarse. “Where was Wend phoning from?”
“The January Club. He knew that you were here with me. That is about five minutes distant by taxi. You have talked for five minutes.”
I held my breath as Van Hosen stood with his hand on the doorknob. The phone rang again. Saxon picked it up. “Saxon here... Oh, Mr. Wend again... Yes, he’s just leaving. You wish to talk to him?... You wouldn’t?... I understand. You want him to go back to the club with you? I’ll tell him that you are waiting downstairs.”
He hung up. Van Hosen walked away from the door. He held his knees stiff like a man who is hurt and weak. His face was twisted. He walked over to Saxon, and his voice broke as he said, “You monster! Look what you’ve done to me! It’s all true and he knows that it’s true. I can’t leave this room. He’ll kill me before I can tell him. Maybe he’ll kill me when you try to take me away from here. Get more men! Get me strong guards!”
“If it’s true, Van Hosen, why shouldn’t I force you to go? Why shouldn’t I save Ceylon the expense of your trial?”
Van Hosen clutched the arm of Saxon’s chair. “I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you the lists. I’ll tell you of everything, of the hidden supplies, of the men who will lead the people. How O’Dell killed the American who suspected us. How I came here with information from Tokyo about Kaymark’s ancestors. How Wend drowned the girl and cut Kaymark’s throat. We came in here together to see that fool.” He pointed at me. “We found Kaymark tied up. He swore that he hadn’t talked, but we knew how much he valued his pretty face. He hadn’t been badly hurt. We couldn’t chance it. Wend cut his throat — slowly. It wasn’t pretty to watch.”