The Montgomery Murder Read Online Free Page A

carefully carrying the beer in a large jug.
    But he wasn’t alone.
    Behind him was someone else.
    Someone dark-skinned, hair covered in a white turban. He was tall and straight, but his hand trembled and the light flashed on something in that hand.
    The Indian had come to meet them.
    And he had a knife in his hand.

 
    CHAPTER 7
T HE D IAMOND R ING

    Alfie got to his feet quickly. His mouth was very dry. He could hear Jack gulp, and, as he approached the fire, his cousin’s face showed white, with every freckle
standing out sharply.
    Of course, the Indian was probably a lascar, and those sailors always had a knife. But why had Jack allowed him in? He must have threatened him. Jack was as brave as a lion; in fact, sometimes
Alfie thought that Jack was, by nature, much braver than he himself was, but Jack wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t bring a stranger in unless he had been forced, and he wouldn’t argue
with a knife.
    ‘Give us the beer, Jack.’ Forcing himself to sound natural, Alfie kept a sharp eye on the Indian as he stretched out a hand for the beer. Carefully, though without looking at it, he
set the jug on the box that they used as a table. Mutsy, he noticed, had gone over to Sammy and was standing beside him. He did not growl, but he was alert.
    ‘Care for a sausage?’ Alfie addressed the stranger in a casual way, but was disconcerted when a shake of the head refused the offer.
    ‘What were you doing in the police station?’ The Indian watched Alfie carefully. The fellow’s English was good compared to other Indians that Alfie had known. Most of them
worked on the boats that traded between London and India and they spoke only to their fellow lascars. This boy probably learned English when he and his father worked on Mr Montgomery’s tea
plantations.
    ‘What’s your name?’ Alfie was pleased with the sound of his voice. Only Sammy would guess that he was frightened.
    The Indian paused. ‘Mallesh.’ He slid the knife up into his sleeve. Mutsy stretched out on the floor beside Alfie’s cushion.
    ‘Sit here next to my brother.’ Alfie pulled out an old tattered cushion and placed it between Sammy and the fire. Now he could see Mallesh’s face and Sammy could listen to his
voice.
    ‘You . . . you are blind.’ Mallesh was looking at Sammy. His voice was hesitant, but Alfie could see a look of pity on his face.
    ‘Yes,’ agreed Sammy. He always preferred people to mention this straight away and not to be embarrassed. ‘What do you want with Alfie?’
    Only Sammy would have asked that question straight out, thought Alfie, and he could see how startled Mallesh was. For a moment the knife slid down, but then Mallesh looked into the milky-blue
eyes, the white skin and the blond hair of the blind boy beside him, and pushed it back up his sleeve again. There was a long pause before he spoke.
    ‘The police are looking for me,’ he said in a hesitant voice. ‘They have asked your brother, Alfie, to find me.’
    So this was the Indian boy the inspector had spoken of.
    ‘How do you know?’ Alfie could hear the note of panic in his own voice. Instinctively he put one hand on Mutsy’s neck, kneading the powerful muscles under the loose, hairy
skin.
    ‘I listened outside the window. Outside the window of the police station. I heard everything.’
    ‘Cor,’ said Alfie with a nervous laugh, ‘you must have a great pair of ears. You’re as good as old Sammy here.’
    ‘What were you doing listening at the police station?’ Sammy stretched out until his hand met Mutsy’s back and he, too, stroked the big dog. He turned his alert ear towards
their visitor.
    Mallesh hesitated. ‘I wanted . . . to ask that man . . . that policeman . . . the one in charge. I wanted to ask him something . . .’
    ‘Ask the inspector something? What?’ queried Alfie.
    There was a long silence. Mallesh seemed as if he were trying to make up his mind about something. ‘Are you going to do what the inspector