Stars Over Sarawak (4 page)

 'He merely told me you would be seeking my help in finding your husband. When you know Carl Denver a little better you'll realize that he never uses two words where one will do.'

 'I see. He hasn't told you that we were married only six months when my husband went off with this other girl?'

 'No.' He stared at her and, as with the other two men, he seemed surprised that she could have been deserted by her husband after so short a period of marriage. 'You knew he had come out to Borneo, obviously?'

 'He had told someone, yes. And it got back to me.'

 'Well, now, Mrs. Barrett, I can engage some Natives to go up the Tinjar River and call at several villages there. You have the Lelak Ionghouse first, then a community of Punans and a little higher up the river still is a Malang village. Some news should be forthcoming as to whether your husband visited one or more of these villages, but it's what happened to him finally that's going to be the problem. You see, should he have met his death by some accident these peoples might have decided to keep it a secret.'

 'But why should they?' Roanna wondered with a shudder if a Native, coming upon a dead man, might just be tempted to take his head as a trophy.

 'There's no knowing their minds, Mrs. Barrett. They might have decided it was far simpler to bury the body and say nothing than to convey the message to the authorities. I'm not saying this is what's happened,' he hastened to assure her. 'I'm merely suggesting it as a possibility. Should your husband have gone even farther into the interior then he could have perished as a result of a snakebite, or even got into the way of a poison dart. However, you can rest assured that I shall do my very best to help you. It will of course cost money to engage these Natives. You are prepared for that?'

 She nodded.

 'I did come prepared for expenses, naturally.'

 'Good. Then there's no immediate problem.' His piercing eyes regarded her intently as he added, 'I take it that whatever the manner of his death — should he be dead, that is — you will not suffer any heartache?'

 She frowned at this.

 'I shouldn't like to think he came to a violent end.'

 Charles Cosgrove shrugged his shoulders.

 'But if he died in the jungle then he either came to a violent end or he died of starvation.'

 Roanna bit her lip, automatically shaking her head as if she would deny the picture access to her mind.

 'Perhaps he's living with one of these tribes,' she suggested.

 'I very much doubt it, Mrs. Barrett. From what little I've heard of Rolfe Barrett he liked the comforts of civilization.'

 She agreed, going on to say,

 'That's why it seems strange to me that he would go into the jungle at all.'

 The old man smiled a thin smile, one of faint contempt such as Carl Denver might be expected to produce.

 'Right down through the ages man's greed for gold has led him into dangerous and uncomfortable situations. Nothing has changed since the days of the grave-robbers of ancient Egypt. Men risk their lives for gold, and will do so till the end of time.' He paused and frowned, then asked, 'What is gold? Do you know, young lady? It's nothing more than a metallic element we find in the rocks. The rocks, Mrs. Barrett — and men will die for it!'

 'The antiques these tribes possess are very valuable, I'm told?'

 'Indeed, yes. They're extremely valuable.'

 'Mr. Denver gave me to understand that the Natives would never voluntarily let them go.'

 'It's well known that they won't.'

 'It's very strange that my husband should believe that the Natives would part with them.'

 'He hadn't been here long enough to know very much about the Natives, otherwise he wouldn't have embarked on such a scheme.' Charles Cosgrove yawned suddenly, and his white eyelashes came down several times. Roanna wondered if he were tired — or bored.

 'I had better be getting along,' she said, and finished her drink.

 'I always sleep for an hour before my lunch,' he told her apologetically as he yawned again, fully aware of her abrupt decision to leave. 'It's quite the wrong way round, of course. I should be resting after lunch, like any civilized person, but I rise so very early in the morning that I become tired about half-past eleven. It's old age, young lady, so I make no excuses. Come again, quite soon, for you'll find that time hangs while you are waiting. It was a pity you had to come, but on the other hand it's never easy to do things from great distances. I daresay Mr. Denver chided you for coming, though?'

 'Yes, as a matter of fact, he did.'

 'Not one for the ladies, so if he can find fault he usually does. Terribly critical, Mrs. Barrett, as you will discover when you get to know him better. I've yet to hear him give a female praise for anything. Still, he's a great guy and well liked by everyone. He's a man's man and that's all there is to it; women are just not in his line.'

 'I gathered that,' she said with a wry smile, deliberately omitting to mention anything about the marriage that had been responsible for Carl Denver's lack of interest in the opposite sex. Roanna could understand, and she could sympathize, because with Carl Denver there had been love. In her case there had been nothing but hate. And so whereas Carl Denver no longer had any time for women — and certainly no interest in marriage — Roanna eagerly wished to try again, because she had never had a marriage built on love.

 Charles Cosgrove accompanied her to the gate at the bottom of his garden.

 'What are you intending to do with yourself?' he asked as she passed through and turned with the intention of saying good-bye.

 'I shall wander round the town and get to know my way about. I shan't feel time hanging just yet,' she assured him with a smile. 'There's too much to see.'

 'Go to the museum, and then there are the Chinese temples. The temple guardians will be only too delighted to let you in.'

 'Thank you, Mr. Cosgrove. And thank you also for offering your help. Let me know what money you want and I'll let you have it at once. You know where I'm staying. I shall be there for a while, but if I should find my money's going too quickly I shall ask your advice about getting somewhere a little cheaper.'

 'Do, young lady, by all means. However, for the present, just you stay on at the hotel. I'll be giving you a ring as soon as I've managed to get the Natives organized.'

 'Thank you,' she said again. 'Good-bye, Mr. Cosgrove.'

 'Good-bye, Mrs. Barrett.'

 Taking his advice, Roanna visited the Sarawak Museum after lunch, then she went into the library and finally strolled in the nearby public gardens. She went into a Chinese restaurant for afternoon tea and then explored some of the old-fashioned winding streets. She bought a silver bracelet to take back for Bridget and a brooch for Andrew's mother.

 On her arrival back at the hotel she was handed a note. It was from Malcolm and said that he would come again that evening and dine with her in the hotel's restaurant. She felt happy at the idea of the pleasant company, but she did begin to wonder how she was going to feel when she was left on her own, as she must be on occasions as Malcolm could not possibly give her the whole of his leisure time. However, it was time to think of that later, she decided as, after taking a shower and putting on a bright cotton dress, she surveyed herself in the mirror and was perfectly satisfied with what she saw. True, her eyes retained that smoky veil which uncertainty produced, but there was no doubt that the fact of her being in action, as it were, had helped to erase the rather haunted look which had been with her for so long. Something was now being done; it could be that in a very short space of time she Would at least have some information in her possession even though it were not the vital information she must have before the way was clear for her marriage to Andrew.

 Malcolm, clad in grey flannel slacks and a white cotton shirt, rose on her entry into the lounge and a swift smile curved his wide full mouth.

 'Hello, Roanna,' was his greeting. 'You look very pretty, and cool.'

 'Thank you,' she said, adding that he too looked cool.

 'We don't always wear jackets, as you will have already noticed. It's a hot climate in which we live and we dress sensibly.'

 As before they sat chatting over an aperitif prior to entering the restaurant. Malcolm was interested to know how she had got on with Charles Cosgrove, and nodded on hearing what Roanna had to tell him.

 'I think he'll have these Natives moving quite soon,' she added, and Malcolm agreed.

 'Charles never allows grass to grow under his feet when help's needed. Of course, assisting people was his job before he retired and I rather think he enjoys being given some work to do now and then. Any visitor from overseas who happens to get into difficulty is immediately recommended to contact Charles. I daresay you'll be hearing something before very long.'

 'I really feel as if I'm doing something at last.'

 'You're prepared for the expense?' asked Malcolm tentatively and, when she nodded, 'Here, the Natives are paid well. Sarawak is an exceptionally expensive country and money doesn't go far.'

 She gave him a faintly troubled look.

 'I haven't a great deal of money,' she admitted, but went on to say that she hadn't come out ill-equipped for all that. 'I shouldn't have thought it would have been excessively expensive to employ Natives.'

 'It won't be excessively expensive; on the other hand, the Natives can command reasonably high wages.'

 'I do hope something positive comes from this journey up the River Tinjar. It would be awful if nothing at all came from it and we had to begin at the beginning again.'

 'Your husband certainly let it be known that this was the district he was making for. But it's possible that he merely said so and that he was going somewhere else altogether.'

 Roanna nodded thoughtfully, recollecting that Rolfe had lied almost as frequently as he spoke the truth.

 'It's more than feasible that he did lie, she said. 'After all, if he were after these treasures he'd hardly be likely to tell anyone else where they were — or where he believed they were.'

 'I shouldn't worry yet awhile,' advised Malcolm, noting her anxious expression. 'Trust Charles; he'll find something out if it's at all possible. I assure you he's very thorough, and even while he's got these Natives investigating he himself will be making inquiries all around, endeavouring to collect all the pieces he can from his acquaintances in and about Kuching.'

 'I had a feeling these investigations would take time,' she admitted. 'That's why I came on ahead of Andrew. If I'm lucky and the mystery of Rolfe's disappearance does happen to be solved more quickly than I anticipated then Andrew needn't come, and a great deal of expense will be saved.'

 'I hope, for your sake, that it is.' He smiled at her. 'You'll be needing all your money if you're getting married.'

 She agreed, but went on to say that Andrew had never gone out much until he met her and therefore he did have a rather substantial nest-egg.

 'He hasn't been around, then?' Malcolm seemed faintly amused, although he was endeavouring to conceal his amusement. Once again Roanna knew a certain degree of resentment.

 'I didn't want a man who'd been around,' she said.

 'No?' He gave a shrug. 'I always imagined women preferred men who had been around. How old is Andrew?'

 'Thirty.'

 'Thirty — and never been out with girls? He must be unique!'

 Roanna fell silent, preferring not to comment lest the resentment she felt should be revealed in her voice and Malcolm was made to feel embarrassed by the knowledge that he had said the wrong thing. Malcolm was staring thoughtfully into his glass; she suddenly knew for sure that what she had revealed about Andrew would be repeated to Carl Denver.

CHAPTER THREE

AWAKENED by the morning song of the bulbuls, Roanna got out of bed and drew wide the curtains, her eyes smoky and brooding. It was the end of June and although Charles Cosgrove had done his very best to find some clue that would throw light on Rolfe's disappearance his every attempt had drawn a blank.

 And now Roanna had no idea what to do next. Carl Denver had advised her to go home as it was a sheer waste of time and money to remain in Sarawak. He had been quite heartless and indifferent, his manner polite but disapproving. Plainly he had little or no patience with females who chose to take upon themselves tasks which it was most unlikely they would be able successfully to carry out.

 The cry of a bird broke into her disconsolate musings and she turned listlessly, picked up her towel and went from the room, along the corridor to where the bathroom was situated.

 What must she do now? Carl Denver had said, quite simply, that the only thing she could do was to wait until sufficient length of time had elapsed for her husband to be officially presumed dead, at which time she would then be free. She had said nothing to this, convinced that his reaction would merely be one of impatience should she proffer the information that she was wishing to have all her children before she was thirty.

 'I expect the sensible thing is to go home,' she murmured. 'Staying on here is doing no good now, and as Carl Denver says, I'm just wasting time and money.'

 She had been seeing quite a lot of Malcolm, who seemed delighted at having an English girl to take around. He had taken her to the various clubs and he had also taken her to many places of interest including the Chinese temples and several coastal villages, some of which were accessible by boat only. Roanna had found the waiting time tedious, but these outings had gone far to easing the boredom she would otherwise have suffered.

 On several occasions they had met and joined up with one or two other people whom Malcolm knew, and a couple of times they had been at the Sarawak Club when Carl Denver had been there as well. It was on one of these occasions — when it already seemed as if nothing was to come of the investigations — that he had recommended that she go home.

 He himself was soon due for a long vacation which he intended, as was his custom, to spend on his geological investigations. These were to take him far into the jungle in search of information about the rocks and their mineral contents, if any. He usually collected samples of the soils also, bringing them back to the laboratory to be analysed. When in the region of a longhouse he invariably stayed with the inhabitants.

 Roanna bathed and dressed and went down to breakfast. Already seated, at a table next to hers, were two couples who, to Roanna's delight, were English. They all smiled and within minutes a conversation was taking place.

 The four new arrivals were from the state of Brunei to the north, and they all taught in the school that the oil company provided for the children of its employees. Timothy and Nathan were brothers and Sharon and Mandy were friends but had met only after coming out to Borneo to teach. They were curious as to why Roanna was here, all by herself, and she was forced by the demands of courtesy to tell them a little about her mission. She left unsaid her real reason — that she wished to ascertain whether or not she was still married, and that if she was she intended divorcing her husband — and so the result of her small confidences was that the four immediately expressed sympathy and hoped she would soon find her husband, alive and well.

 'You know,' mused Nathan, cutting into the conversation of the others after remaining quiet for a while, 'I seem to recollect having heard about an Englishman who'd gone seeking for some bronzes ...' He paused a moment, his brow furrowing. 'I'm sure it wasn't up the River Tinjar, though. Of course, it all happened before I came here, so it was a rather vague story in which I wasn't particularly interested.' Again he paused, and his frown of concentration deepened. 'The River Yangai seems to ring a bell.' 'The Yangai?' from Timothy with a note of interest. 'There are several long-houses up towards the head of that river. You're really in the ulu region when you get up there.'

 'What's the ulu?' asked Roanna, never having heard the word before.

 'The back of beyond; the swamps and the jungle.'

 She shook her head; this kind of terrain was the very last which Rolfe would tackle, even for the riches he had hoped to find. And yet, she was thinking a moment later, his greed could have been such that he had not given much thought to the hazards he might meet. Rolfe, she remembered, had always been an optimist, arrogantly expecting fate to favour him at every turn.

 'Your husband would never have gone up there,' Susan was saying kindly and, she obviously hoped, reassuringly. 'No man in his right mind would venture into that primitive part of the island.'

 But Roanna was soon to learn that at least one man in his right mind intended venturing into the ulu along the Yangai River. Carl Denver had chosen that particular territory for his investigations this year. He would be making the trip quite soon, immediately his vacation began. This information came from Malcolm who, having asked Roanna to attend a race meeting with him, had called at the hotel for her. Once in his car and on their way he spoke about Carl's projected trip into the remote interior of the jungle.

 'Among other things he hopes to investigate the possibility of clearing the natural vegetation from areas of non-podsolic soils so that the land can be used for agriculture.'

 'He's going up the Yangai River?' Some quiver of a nerve gave fleeting evidence of excitement, but as the sensation vanished almost before it made itself felt it left no impression on Roanna's mind. 'I believe it's quite dangerous?'

 'All journeys into the interior have their dangers, but Carl knows what he's doing. He's had plenty of experience.'

 'What exactly happens when a man goes into the interior?'

 'Well, he travels by prahu, because there are no roads. The prahu has an outboard motor, of course— You've seen these long boats on the rivers, haven't you?'

 She nodded her head.

 'They always seem as if one puff of wind will blow them over.'

 'They do capsize easily,' he admitted, then added ruefully that one must take great care when sailing one along a crocodile-infested river. 'You don't take chances when that sort of animal's about.'

 'Will there be crocodiles where Mr. Denver's going?'

 'Probably.'

 'Does he go alone to these places?'

 'No, he takes Natives with him. You see, he has to leave the prahu and take to the jungle tracks — if there are tracks, that is. Where you get the longhouses and the tilling of the land you do have tracks; otherwise you don't, and you must cut your way through the jungle as best you can. The Natives do this.'

 'It sounds very hazardous.' Surely Rolfe would never have voluntarily taken a trip like this? And yet, as she had told herself before, his greed might have overruled his caution. She shivered on thinking about the crocodiles — then put the awful picture from her mind.

 'It isn't every man's idea of a picnic,' he owned with a grin. 'However, Carl revels in it. He's an odd sort of chap, really, preferring to go off like that every vacation time. Others of us buzz off home and find ourselves a girl-friend or two.'

 'Will he still do this work when he leaves the oil company?'

 'I shouldn't think so, but one never knows. He'll have a fairly large estate to look to and that might take all his time. If it doesn't you can be sure he'll be off into the jungle carrying out his investigations.' Malcolm turned off the road and soon he was parking his car among many others. 'Carl's here,' he observed, indicating a dark blue car some small distance away. 'He said he wasn't sure whether he'd come or not.'

 Roanna walked beside Malcolm, lapsing into a thoughtful mood. Dare she ask Carl Denver to make some inquiries among the Natives living along the river? He had advised her to go home, had evinced neither sympathy nor regret at the failure of her efforts to find what had happened to Rolfe. He was not interested, and there was no reason why he should be.

 'Ah, Malcolm ...' Carl Denver's voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked up, into the sun-bitten face, the hard face with chiselled lines and a tight-lipped mouth — a mouth of strength and determination revealing the indomitable character of its owner. He was tough, this boss of the oil company, she thought, becoming uncomfortable under the sardonic stare of those deep-set amber eyes. 'You have a companion, I see.' Carl Denver's gaze returned to his colleague's face and the shadow of a smile lifted the corners of the thin mouth. How old was he? wondered Roanna, and made a guess. Thirty-two or three, but he might be a couple of years older. His cynicism had added lines to his features, but his body was lithe and carried not an ounce of surplus weight. It was not difficult to imagine him fearlessly travelling into the primitive jungle of Borneo, meeting every eventuality with cool — and even arrogant — indifference, tackling every problem with calm nerves and a clear swift-thinking mind. Roanna found herself wondering what his wife was like, and what kind of life she had had with a man of Carl's intensely masculine personality. He seemed cut out for men's company, not women's; he seemed totally devoid of any of the more tender emotions that went for success in marriage. A brave man, undoubtedly, and one on whom a woman could rely in any emergency — but most women wanted rather more than this.

 'I asked Roanna to come along with me, yes.' Malcolm turned to her as he spoke and a smile crossed his face. 'I've been telling her about your projected trip into the jungle. She considers it to be hazardous in the extreme.'

 Carl looked at her, and his powerful shoulders lifted slightly in a careless little shrug, passing off Malcolm's remarks.

 'Are you having a bet?' he inquired of Roanna.

 'I haven't thought about it.' She felt a trifle awkward and half wished Carl Denver had found himself other company.

 'I'll give you a tip,' he offered, surprising her.

 'You have one?' from Malcolm. 'This morning you said you hadn't.'

 'I've seen the horses since then. Baybur is my choice for the first race.'

  Many people were now coming in and Roanna occupied herself by looking round, taking in the gay colours of the clothes and the mingling of the peoples — Chinese, Malays, Sea Dyaks and many others including the Europeans.

 'Are you having a bet on Baybur?' asked Malcolm, and she nodded, opening her handbag and extracting the money. It was a small amount and as Carl Denver saw the money change hands he said, a sardonic twist to his voice,

 'Cautious, are you? I make a point of never giving a tip unless I'm sure the horse will win.'

 Roanna flushed and said,

 'I gamble only what I can afford to lose, all the same.'

 'Very sensible. Nevertheless, you could have won yourself a princely little sum had you had more faith in my choice.'

 He stepped aside then, as if he were no longer interested, and began talking to the man at his elbow — a man who, Roanna surmised, also worked for the oil company. She was left on her own until the return of Malcolm, who had obligingly gone off to place the bets for all three of them.

 The race started, and as it was her first experience of a race meeting Roanna became so excited that she was almost dancing when it seemed clear that Baybur was going to win. She failed to notice Carl Denver's amusement, so intent was she on her horse.

 'It's won!' she cried. 'My very first bet, and I've won!' She looked up into the humour-filled eyes of the man who had given her the tip. 'Thank you very much, Mr. Denver,' she said, suddenly becoming shy and lowering her head.

 'I told you you'd the chance of making a big profit,' he reminded her, and she nodded a little glumly.

 'I have to be careful, you see,' she confided. 'It's very expensive living here.'

 No comment for the moment from Carl. Malcolm wanted another tip, but none was forthcoming. So all three backed different horses and as before Malcolm went off to place the bets.

 'When are you thinking of going home?' Carl spoke immediately after Malcolm had gone. 'You've nothing to stay for now, have you?'

 'Well, not really,' she began, when he interrupted her to say that she should never have come in the first place.

 'You could have done all you wanted to do through the official circles,' he said.

 'I suppose so. But I felt I should be able to do more if I came myself. I had no idea how to start, though, and I do thank you for helping me.'

 'My help, as you call it, hasn't done you much good.' He observed her critically, noting the smoky look in her eyes, the result of anxiety. 'You appear to be at a loose end?'

 'Yes, I am.' She hesitated and then impulsively, 'Mr. Denver, I was talking to some people in the hotel — people who work for the oil company in Brunei — and one of them had heard that an Englishman had gone up the Yangai River—'

 'The Yangai? You're thinking your husband might have been that man?'

 'Yes, I am.' Carl Denver said nothing, merely waiting for her to continue. 'Malcolm tells me that you are going up that same river to make some investigations. I wondered if — if you'd be so kind as to inquire of the Natives whether or not my husband was there?'