So Bad a Death Read Online Free PDF Page A

and form many opinions on the character of James Holland, but Ursula’s reading of him as a romantic figure has stuck in my mind to this day. She may have been sincere when she described him as such. I cannot yet be sure. The girl was and still is a complete enigma to me.
    As far as I can remember, separating the facts from the loquacious mist in which Ursula Mulqueen shrouded her remarks, it was James Holland’s own uncle who first settled in Australia. Like some of the other piratical pioneers of his time, he obtained vast areas of property for the proverbial song. These he bequeathed to his nephew and heir together with his own ruthlessness and sublime snobbery. I gathered, from certain reverent hints Ursula let drop, that the family was descended from a famous English house. It was considered an established fact that the cynical, brilliant Charles James Fox held an important place in the family tree.
    James Holland’s way of life was based on the ambition to establish a class parallel to, if not the same as, the landed gentry of the home country. Hence the size of Holland Hall, out of all proportion to his needs and those who lived with him. The lodge and the crouching lions on the stone pillars flanking the gates were a typical manifestation of his ambition. Then there was the picture gallery in the house itself, containing some very bad specimens of portrait painting. I learned later that ironically enough the only picture worth looking at was a small water-colour of an Australian bush scene. There had also been some attempts to form a local hunt, but without success. The foxes which had been imported for this pastime now raided the poultry farm, much to the disgust of Ursula’s father.
    Ursula’s story sounded absurd to me. Nevertheless it was quite true. James Holland had both the money and the influence withwhich to indulge his whims. Everything was on his side but one important factor. And that was time.
    When Holland Hall was built as a pseudo-country residence, it had not been reckoned on the city spreading into such far-reaching suburbs. Bit by bit the distance between the Hall and town was being bridged by small, modern houses. Whether Mr Holland liked it or not Middleburn was just another suburb of Melbourne, in spite of its isolation and air of a country village.
    So far James Holland had managed to keep Middleburn at bay. He owned acres of land on either side and opposite the Hall. By dint of turning part of these into public golf links and opening his artificial wood to the public at certain times for charitable purposes, he had managed to block the local Council’s demands that he should sell some of it. The vast open paddocks that isolated the Hall had been given over to pasture for cows (he owned the local dairy) and sheep from some of his drought-stricken properties in the north.
    In Middleburn itself, he was landlord to the greater percentage of the shops and such houses as were not privately owned. Even the tradesmen bought their supplies from the home farm which was situated another mile along the road. Thus Mr Holland held a tight grip on the village and its inhabitants. He was the Squire. They were his tenants.
    V
    It was growing quite dark in the wood; and late, for I could feel that bite in the air which came as soon as the sun touched the horizon. Through the trees I caught a glimpse now and then of the white tower of the Hall. A splendid view of the whole countryside could be obtained from it, as I discovered later. It was an ideal position from which to follow a person’s movements around the estate.
    The tower room suddenly flashed into light and was as abruptly darkened, as though someone had pressed the switch and then realized that they could be seen through the swiftly falling dusk for miles around.
    I poked Ursula Mulqueen in the back.
    â€œDid you see the light in the tower? Look! There it is again.”
    â€œHow extraordinary!” exclaimed my