‘I only ask,’ Dikon continued in a hurry, ‘because you see I was approached in the first instance by Mr Questing. Although I’ve warned him that Gaunt may decide against the Springs, he has been at extraordinary pains and really very considerable expense to—to alter existing arrangements and so on. And I mean—well, Dr Forster’s note suggested that it was to Colonel and Mrs Claire that we should apply.’

‘So it is.’

‘I see. But—Questing?’

‘If you decide against the Springs,’ said Dr Ackrington, ‘you should convey your decision to my sister.’

‘But,’ Dikon repeated obstinately, ‘Questing?’

‘Ignore him.’

‘Oh.’

Steps sounded outside the window, and voices: Smith’s voice slurred but vicious; Colonel Claire’s high-pitched, perhaps a little hysterical; and Questing’s the voice of a bully. As they came nearer, odd sentences separated out from the general rumpus.

‘…if the Colonel’s satisfied—it’s not a fair pop.’

‘…never mind that. You’ve been asking for it and you’ll get it.’

‘…sack me and see what you get, you—’

‘…most disgraceful scene—force my hand…’

‘…kick you out tomorrow.’

‘This is too much,’ Colonel Claire cried out. ‘I’ve stood a great deal, Questing, but I must remind you that I still have some authority here.’

‘Is that so? Where do you get it from? You’d better watch your step, Claire.’

‘By God,’ Smith roared out suddenly, ‘you’d better watch yours.’

Dr Ackrington opened the door and stood on the threshold. Complete silence followed this move. Through the open door came a particularly strong wave of sulphurous air.

‘I suggest, Edward,’ Dr Ackrington said, ‘that you continue your conversation in the laundry. Mr Bell has no doubt formed the opinion that we do not possess one.’

He shut the door. ‘Let me give you another drink,’ he said courteously.

Chapter 3
Gaunt at the Springs

‘Five days ago,’ said Gaunt, ‘you dangled this place before me like some atrocious bait. Now you do nothing but bemoan its miseries. You are strangely inconsistent.’

‘In the interval,’ said Dikon, wrenching the car out of a pot hole, and changing down, ‘I have seen the place. I implore you to remember, sir, that you have been warned.’

‘You overdid it. You painted it in macabre colours. My curiosity was stimulated. For pity’s sake, my dear Dikon, drive a little away from the edge of the abyss. Can this mountain goat track possibly be the main road?’

‘It’s the only road from Harpoon to Wai-ata-tapu, sir. You wanted somewhere quiet, you know, and these are not mountains. There are no mountains in the Northland. The big stuff is in the South.’