“Please, have a seat. Now tell me, how can I help?”
There were two wooden armchairs angled in front of the desk. Henry put his satchel on one of them, shrugged out of his coatand draped it over the back, and lowered himself into the other, saying, “A spur-of-the-moment impulse, I’m afraid. I do apologize,visiting with you uninvited, I hope you do not mind.”
“That depends. What do you want?”
“Nothing,” Henry said laughing. “Perhaps I’m not explaining myself very well. I happened to be in Southport this morning—lookingat real estate, you understand—and when I realized you were stationed here, it occurred to me the two of us have never met.Which is a grave oversight on my part, of course, since I usually make it my business to acquaint myself with our higher-rankingofficers as best I can. I find it can help immeasurably, given the line of work we are in.”
Noone weighed him evenly. Henry shifted in his chair. Finally Noone clapped his hands, rose, and said, “A drink then, sinceit’s a social visit—what’s your poison, Mr. Wells?”
It was still only midmorning. Henry stuttered, “Uh . . . perhaps a whiskey?”
“Whiskey it is.”
Noone fixed the drink at a side table. Henry glanced around the room. It was more like a gentleman’s parlor, no indicationof his position at all. On the desk were his notebook and writing things, and a pipe upturned in a golden ashtray; paintingsof the seaside hung on the walls. The bookcase was filled with academic journals and legal volumes and what looked like scientifictexts: Darwin, Mendel, and something foreign, possibly about history, by men called Breuer and Freud.
Noone handed him an enormous whiskey. “You’re not having one?” Henry said.
“No.”
He retook his seat and gestured for Henry to drink and reluctantly Henry did. All the while Noone watching him; Henry coughed as the whiskey went down.
“So,” Noone said, “you’re buying real estate. Whereabouts exactly?”
“Just . . . on the bluff there, along the coast. Somewhere with a sea view, it’s such a lovely outlook. I have to say I wasa little surprised to learn that you were stationed here. Rather a quiet post for a chief inspector, particularly one as eminentas yourself. I’ll admit to being more than a little curious. Your lofty reputation rather precedes you, Mr. Noone, at leastamong my colleagues at the bar.”
A smile twitched beneath his mustache. “Oh, it’s not forever. A well-earned rest after years in the field. The commissionerand I have an arrangement. And as you say, it is a lovely little town.”
“You don’t miss the city then? Or the country for that matter?”
“We are building a house in Hamilton. The family will be joining me soon.”
“Hamilton. Very nice.”
“Yes, it is. Where are you?”
“Spring Hill.” Noone grimaced and Henry added, “That’s not forever, either. So, you have children?”
“Girls, both grown. Yourself?”
“A boy and a girl, still young. My wife certainly has her hands full.”
“Now that does surprise me.”
“Oh? How so?”
“You just don’t particularly strike me as the marrying kind.”
Henry didn’t quite know what to make of that. He sipped his whiskey and was grateful for the pause. The conversation wasn’tgoing how he’d intended, how he’d rehearsed it over the previous days. He got the impression that Noone was already growingbored of him. He needed to start moving things along.
“I have to ask, since I’m here, all those years you spent in the Native Police Force, weren’t they just so terribly . . .hard?”
“On the contrary, I rather enjoyed myself.”
“But surely living out there, in the interior, so far from the civilized world . . . and the tasks that fell upon you, witnessingit all firsthand.”
Noone shrugged, his mouth downturned. “Some are better suited to the work than others. I doubt you’d have fared quite so well.”
Forcing laughter, Henry said, “No, no, I think you might be right,” and drank hurriedly, more than he would have liked; alreadyhe could feel his head swimming, the heat rising into his cheeks. He leaned and placed the whiskey on the desk then remainedthere, bent forward, an earnest, confiding stare.
“Tell me something, Edmund, if I may be so bold: what was it really like? Did you kill as many as they say? Thousands, I haveheard. Is it even possible that could be true? And rest assured I ask not as a critic but out of admiration, even wonder—throughyour service you have built a country, given us a land of our own.”
It was as close to an accusation as he could muster. He watched Noone’s reaction carefully. The man didn’t so much as blink.
“I imagine your father is most ashamed of you,” Noone said, his voice steady and cold. “Your accent is Sydney, you’re notfrom Queensland, and few in your profession would have moved north out of choice. Those nighttime proclivities you try yourhardest to conceal, yet are written upon you like a tattoo; were they the real reason you left? Did you fly the nest in disgrace,I wonder, when your father discovered what you are? Was it him who caught you? Or did your mother find you fumbling with somesweaty-faced schoolboy, his hand in your trousers, yours in his? And now, what about this poor wife with her children in SpringHill? Does she know who her husband really is, what he gets up to, where he goes? This marriage of convenience—is she awareof it, did she consent, or is the convenience all yours? Oh, I see you, Mr. Wells. I see you just as you see yourself, whenyou stand before the looking glass, and an ugly sight it is too. You are a fraud. Your very presence here is fraudulent. Youare not buying a house in Southport. You could barely afford a beach hut, I would guess. Now, if you wish to disagree withanything I have said, I am listening. Otherwise, I suggest you leave.”
Henry held Noone’s gaze then straightened; all this time he’d been leaning forward, his elbow on his knee. He reached to the other chair, collected his satchel, gathered his coat, draped it over one
