The Favorite Short Stories of W. Somerset Maugham by W. Somerset Maugham Page B

trader pushed him forwards. Then he saw, lying half in the water and half out, a dreadful object, the body of Davidson. Dr Macphail bent down-he was not a man to lose his head in an emergency-and turned the body over. The throat was cut from ear to ear, and in the right hand was still the razor with which the deed was done.
    “He’s quite cold,” said the doctor. “He must have been dead some time.”
    “One of the boys saw him lying there on his way to work just now and came and told me. Do you think he did it himself?”
    “Yes. Someone ought to go for the police.”
    Horn said something in the native tongue, and two youths started off.
    “We must leave him here till they come,” said the doctor.
    “They mustn’t take him into my house. I won’t have him in my house.”
    “You’ll do what the authorities say,” replied the doctor sharply. “In point of fact I expect they’ll take him to the mortuary.”
    They stood waiting where they were. The trader took a cigarette from a fold in his lava-lava and gave one to Dr Macphail. They smoked while they stared at the corpse. Dr Macphail could not understand.
    “Why do you think he did it?” asked Horn.
    The doctor shrugged his shoulders. In a little while native police came along, under the charge of a marine, with a stretcher, and immediately afterwards a couple of naval officers and a naval doctor. They managed everything in a businesslike manner.
    “What about the wife?” said one of the officers.
    “Now that you’ve come I’ll go back to the house and get some things on. I’ll see that it’s broken to her. She’d better not see him till he’s been fixed up a little.”
    “I guess that’s right,” said the naval doctor.
    When Dr Macphail went back he found his wife nearly dressed.
    “Mrs Davidson’s in a dreadful state about her husband,” she said to him as soon as he appeared. “He hasn’t been to bed all night. She heard him leave Miss Thompson’s room at two, but he went out. If he’s been walking about since then he’ll be absolutely dead.”
    Dr Macphail told her what had happened and asked her to break the news to Mrs Davidson.
    “But why did he do it?” she asked, horror-stricken.
    “I don’t know.”
    “But I can’t. I can’t.”
    “You must.”
    She gave him a frightened look and went out. He heard her go into Mrs Davidson’s room. He waited a minute to gather himself together and then began to shave and wash. When he was dressed he sat down on the bed and waited for his wife. At last she came.
    “She wants to see him,” she said.
    “They’ve taken him to the mortuary. We’d better go down with her. How did she take it?”
    “I think she’s stunned. She didn’t cry. But she’s trembling like a leaf.”
    “We’d better go at once.”
    When they knocked at her door Mrs Davidson came out. She was very pale, but dry-eyed. To the doctor she seemed unnaturally composed. No word was exchanged, and they set out in silence down the road. When they arrived at the mortuary Mrs Davidson spoke.
    “Let me go in and see him alone.”
    They stood aside. A native opened a door for her and closed it behind her. They sat down and waited. One or two white men came and talked to them in undertones. Dr Macphail told them again what he knew of the tragedy. At last the door was quietly opened and Mrs Davidson came out. Silence fell upon them.
    “I’m ready to go back now,” she said.
    Her voice was hard and steady. Dr Macphail could not understand the look in her eyes. Her pale face was very stern. They walked back slowly, never saying a word, and at last they came round the bend on the other side of which stood their house. Mrs Davidson gave a gasp, and for a moment they stopped still. An incredible sound assaulted their ears. The gramophone which had been silent for so long was playing, playing ragtime loud and harsh.
    “What’s that?” cried Mrs Macphail with horror.
    “Let’s go on,” said Mrs Davidson.
    They walked up