DEATH BY MOONLIGHT

By RONALD OGDEN

THE lake was as still as a cup of tea and the moon was so bright it might almost have been daylight. It was early summer.

You could see the trees reflected in the water as though it was a looking-glass.

I had been fishing with Daniel but we hadn't caught any- thing.

Daniel was smoking a pipe.

" How about having a bathe ? " he said.

It seemed a pity to break the water. It looked so solid, like a sheet of glass ; but I said " Yes." So we took off our things and went in. Daniel's skin looked very white in the moonlight.

The water was pretty cold and made you gasp and tingle, but when we got used to it it was fine and made us feel ever so lively.

It was when we'd been in a couple of minutes or so I first spotted the keeper.

It must have been past midnight so Lord knows why he was there. He had his gun under his arm. He was always known for a queer one.

In the War his life had been saved by a Bible. It had stopped a bullet over his heart or something. That had made him turn religious. But it was rumoured if your dog got into those woods he'd never get out alive. People said he'd shot dozens of dogs and buried them in those woods.

He had a thinnish face and piercing black eyes which peered out under black and bushy eyebrows. His jowl was fierce and pointed and his whole expression was fierce.

Nobody ever saw him laugh.

He didn't say anything when he saw us ; just quietly gathered up our clothes and put them under his arm.

When Daniel saw what he was doing he gave a shout. I was feeling a bit frightened. The man had an evil reputation. Some people thought he was a maniac.

He stopped when Daniel shouted, and slowly raised his gun. Daniel began to look frightened.

" Put that gun down," he shouted. " We all know you murder animals but you can't start murdering men."

" Oh, can't I ? " said the keeper, deliberately taking aim at Daniel.

There was a crack and Daniel put his hands over his eyes. He gave a yell of pain and I saw a splutter of little red dots break out on the back of his hands.

I wasn't far from the bank and I made for it with all my speed. I was so blind with rage I don't know whether I swam or waded. I only remember jumping on that swine of a keeper and getting him so I had my knee on his throat and his arms spi:mdeagled.

By that time Daniel had clambered up beside me. He got hold of the gun and rammed the muzzle in the keeper's mouth.

" I'll teach you to shoot at a defenceless man," he said, " you bastard."

The keeper didn't turn a hair. He just looked at us.

Suddenly a pheasant broke from the wood in front of us and frightened Daniel. There was an awful noise from the gun and the keeper's body went limp underneath me.

Daniel stood for a moment dazed trying to understand what had happened. It took me a lot of time to realise it.

Suddenly Daniel dropped the gun as though it was a red-hot poker.

" I didn't mean to do it," he wailed. " Oh God, that makes us murderers."

I was feeling mighty frightened myself.

" Put on your clothes," I said, " and let's get away as soon as possible. Nobody knows we've been here."

We collected up our rods and got home as quickly a, we could. Nobody heard us come in.

We couldn't sleep. Daniel said we ought to run away. I said better to stay, because if we ran away people woui,' be certain to suspect us.

Daniel said it was certain they would catch us, they could trace us by our fingerprints on the gun.

" Be a man," I said, " if they do, let's tell the truth and chance it. You've got the proof that he shot you in your hands."

His hands were beginning to swell up and get puffy. He washed them under the pump.

Next morning I took Daniel down to Hastings on the motor-bike to see a doctor.

We told him we'd been out shooting and I'd shot him by mistake. The doctor took a long time over it and bandage,' Daniel up. I left him in Hastings with some money came back on the motor-bike.

I expected everyone would look at me but nobody seemed any different. In the Crown I heard the whole story.

When the keeper's wife had got up that morning she'd found a note on the kitchen table saying her husband was going to shoot himself because he was fed up with life. Apparently he'd often threatened to and she wasn't a h't surprised. She was glad. He'd been a terror to live with. For a long time she'd been certain he was balmy—so had all the neighbours.

When they found the body they came to the conclusion that he'd shot himself lying down.

I went to fetch Daniel from Hastings. We didn't much till after the inquest.

Nobody even bothered about finger prints.

Later on we had a bit of a celebration.