Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 116, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 709 & 710, September/October 2000

Leaving behind the cricket ground and the racecourse, a now ruined hotel, and several private houses turned into hospitals, he approached his own residence, about a mile distant. This was a smart bungalow with a pitched, gabled roof, surrounded by trees, a low wall, and iron railings, with a striped awning to keep out the sun, and draped lace curtains at the windows. The most English home, the most hospitable rendezvous for British friends in Mafeking. At the corner of the garden, the flagpole defiantly flew the Union Jack. It was in this house, at one of Sarah’s “at homes,” that Edward Carradine had first met Kitty Rampling.

With this sombre reminder of happier times in his mind, he entered his now cheerless house, empty of all but servants, for Sarah, his wife, and his little boy and girl were six thousand miles away, at home in England. But safe from the perils of war and starvation, thank God.

Sarah had not wanted to return home. She had stayed with him throughout all the anxious period when peace hung in the balance, while the gathering clouds of war began to darken the sky and many other women fled. “My place, as your wife, is surely here, by your side!” she declared, willing to enroll herself in the band of women who, rather than seek the safety of Capetown, had elected to stay and nurse the sick and wounded. Duties at which she would no doubt have excelled, as she did in most things. During the eight years they had been married, Sarah had proved herself to be everything a man could want in a wife: handsome, smiling and good-humoured, a woman of cultivated tastes and true Yorkshire grit. He counted himself a lucky man.

“Do you not think, my dearest,” he had answered in a low voice, “that you would not be the greatest support and comfort to me, the best friend a man might have at his side at such a time? But I should be a lesser man had I so little regard for your safety — or the safety of our children.”

It was only this last persuasion which had induced her to travel with the children the nine hundred miles to Capetown, on the last train before the line was blown up, and thence to take ship for the long journey to England. Now, her piano stayed as a silent reminder of her presence, the inexorable dry dust of the plains which insinuated itself everywhere collecting upon its keys, her books gathered more dust as they stood unopened on the shelves, her sketchbook and watercolours were put away, her sewing laid aside. Only her precious garden remained as she would have wished it. Frank tended it himself and would not leave it to the African boys. He missed her as a man might miss his right arm, but he had no regrets as to his decision.

How was he to answer her when he wrote to her about Edward Carradine?

Carradine had been a favourite of Sarah’s, a popular adjunct to Mafeking society, agreeable, amusing, and clever, if too outspoken in his extraordinary opinions, which he was wont to state with no little vehemence and less tact, and with no expectation in the world of being disbelieved. He had lately aired his view, for instance, after one glass of wine too many at Frank’s table, that it was a barbarity to hunt the ostrich and the elephant, not pausing to reflect that this happened to be the basis of Frank’s livelihood. Ostrich feathers for fans, boas, and hats, and for debutantes to wear in their hair. Elephant ivory for piano keys, billiard balls, oriental casings, and jewellery, for every decorative use that could be imagined. His was a luxury trade which had made him, if not rich, then comfortably off.

“With respect, sir,” Carradine had continued heatedly, “you do not realize the significance of what you are doing! Mark my words, these magnificent animals will one day be hunted to extinction and disappear from the face of the earth! You hunters resemble the ostrich you hunt — you run away and hide your heads in the sand!”

Frank had managed to conceal his anger and lighten the embarrassment at this rash and ill-considered statement — for Africa was vast, the bounty of her wildlife inexhaustible, was it not? Culling was necessary to keep the elephant population down, to preserve the trees and vegetation they destroyed. He made some humourous remark about the ugly, bald, and manifestly unmagnificent ostrich which occasioned smiles and passed the moment off. He would not take issue with one who was a guest in his house, and who, moreover, despite his brashness, was for the most part a very likeable fellow. His greatest fault lay in his youth, which time would overcome. His heart was in the right place. And to do him justice, Carradine had later apologized.