The Baghdad Railway Club(84)

‘All nonsense,’ said Findlay. ‘I only learnt of his theory about you – well, it’s more than a theory isn’t it? I only learnt that late on Saturday night when Jarvis told me.’

‘You took the photograph off Jarvis,’ Shepherd said. ‘You knew that it might ultimately help make a case against you. I don’t know what you told the fellow when you forced him to give it over – what sort of pressure you put him under. He was overstrained in any case.’

Findlay was about to reply, but in that instant, it seemed to me that I had at long last cottoned on.

‘No,’ I said to Shepherd, ‘Jarvis gave him the photograph.’

‘Of course he damn well gave me it,’ said Findlay.

‘I don’t know exactly why,’ I said to Shepherd. ‘But he felt guilty about something to do with Boyd. I believe he had helped you, and that’s why he shot himself.’

The desert revolved once again, bringing the Arabs into clear view – all these natives coming up with the sun. Unfortunately, Shepherd now had a second gun in his hand. He was like a magician. Where the hell did they keep coming from? It was another Colt, but this one a much handsomer piece. It must have been Captain Boyd’s of course, and it had been in Shepherd’s haversack. So it was the Webley against the Colt: one pull on the trigger of the Webley and I would do for him, whereas he would have to cock the hammer of the Colt.

With a half smile, this he now smoothly did, so that we became evenly matched.

‘My dear Jim,’ he said, blushing.

The shot came. I reeled away and in the instant of falling I saw that one rider from the crowd of Arabs was approaching fast, evidently bringing important news from the rising sun. But whatever news was too late for me, for I was spinning, spinning away into blackness and the end of Mesopotamia.





Part Three


York Again





Chapter Eighteen


In the railway police office at York station, I opened my eyes. The thin fire in the grate was much the same as when I’d last looked at it. Therefore I hadn’t been out for more than a few minutes. As for the letter before me, that was exactly the same. To the man recovering from malaria, the mystery is not so much his own drowsiness as how anyone at all can keep awake for an entire day – not to mention the question of why they would want to. I read over the letter again.

It must have been sent to the War Office by the diplomatic bag, which is to say via the man Lennon – at a price no doubt, but evidently one affordable to Jarvis. (I supposed that Lennon’s rates were variable according to the customer’s rank.) It had then been forwarded to me at the police office by the ordinary mail, courtesy of Lennon’s brother and partner in crime if crime it was. The envelope was date-stamped May 30th, which was the day he and I had had our conversation about Kut. We’d gone soon afterwards to see Boyd’s Arab servant, Farhan, and it must have been after that encounter that Jarvis had written and posted.

Dear Capt. Stringer,

You told me you worked before the war in the police office at York station so that is where I am writing to you.

I am writing to you to point out that Lt. Col. Shepherd killed Captain Boyd at about six o’clock on the evening of Wednesday May 23rd 1917. I was there so I know. Capt. Boyd had asked me kindly if I would drive him to the station, not saying why he wanted to go there. Lt. Col. Shepherd, who I knew a little from the HQ, was already there walking up and down the platform. I did not think I was supposed to see him but he didn’t seem to mind very much about it. They went together into the station buffet as was, and I walked some distance away but still heard a little of their talk. Shepherd challenged Capt. Boyd. He said Capt. Boyd had been giving him dirty looks when they had passed by each other at the Hotel. Capt. Boyd said well don’t pretend you don’t know why. Capt. Boyd then called Shepherd a Turkish spy paid for in gold. He had seen and heard an arrangement made with a Turkish officer at the station where he and Shepherd had been on the day of our entry into the city. They started an argument, and then Capt. Boyd fell silent. As to how Shepherd did it, I believe it was by stabbing, for there was no gun shot. I had glimpsed a quantity of knives on the floor of the place on first arriving. Shepherd came hurrying out, saying would I mind very much giving him a lift back to town, for he is very polite as you know as well as a killer. I said what about Captain Boyd, and he said he would be remaining behind at the station. I said why – not taking much trouble by now to be respectful, and he smiled, saying Oh he’s rather brooding you know. I still stared at him, and he went red saying I think he means to walk over to the range shortly. He admitted they’d had a bit of a row, and I was amazed at how he didn’t try to cover up. But then this is a man who likes to put his whole life in hazard from time to time. Not to mention the lives of others.