The Valley of Bones Read Online Free PDF Page A

’varsity man and don’t smoke
cigars,’ said Bithel, speaking with disappointment. ‘I shouldn’t have expected
that. What about sleeping pills? I’ve got some splendid ones, if you’d like to
try them. Must use them if you’ve had just the wrong amount to drink. Fatal to
wake up in the night when that’s happened.’
    By this time I had begun to feel
pretty tired myself, in no need of sleeping pills. The bar was closing. There
was a general move towards bed. Bithel, after gulping down a final drink by
himself, went off unsteadily to search for a greatcoat he had mislaid. The rest
of us, including the chaplains, made our way upstairs. I was sleeping in the
same bedroom as Kedward, Breeze and Pumphrey.
    ‘Old Bithel’s been allotted that attic
on the top floor to himself,’ said Pumphrey. ‘He’ll feel pretty lonely up
there. We ought to make a surprise for him when he comes to bed. Let’s give him
a good laugh.’
    ‘Oh, he’ll just want to go quietly to
bed,’ said Breeze, ‘not wish for any tomfoolery tonight.’
    Kedward took the opposite view.
    ‘Why, yes,’ he said, ‘Bithel seems a
good chap. He would like some sort of a rag. Make him feel at home. Show him
that we like him.’
    I was glad no such welcome had been
thought necessary for myself the previous night, when there had been no sign of
horseplay, merely a glass or two of beer before bed. There was perhaps
something about Bithel that brought into being such schemes. What shape the
joke should best take was further discussed. The end of it was we all climbed
the stairs to the top floor of the hotel, where Bithel was housed
in
one of the attics. The chaplains came too, Dooley particularly entering into
the idea of a rag. At first I had envied Bithel the
luxury of a room to himself, but, when we arrived there, it
became clear that such privacy, whatever its advantages, was paid for
by a severe absence of other comfort. The room was fairly big, with a low
ceiling under the eaves. Deep shelves had been built along one side, so that in normal
times the attic was probably used as a large linen cupboard. The walls were
unpapered. There was a strong smell of mice.
    ‘What shall we do?’ asked Kedward.
    ‘Put his bed upside down,’ suggested
Pumphrey.
    ‘No,’ said Breeze, ‘that’s plain
silly.’
    ‘Make it apple-pie.’
    ‘That’s stale.’
    The padres wanted to see the fun, but
without too deeply involving themselves. The idea that we should all lie on the
shelves, then, when Bithel was already in bed, appear as a horde of ghosts, was
abandoned as impracticable. Then someone put forward the project of making an
effigy. This was accepted as a suitable solution to the problem. Pumphrey and
Kedward therefore set about creating a figure to rest in Bithel’s camp-bed, the
theory being that such a dummy would make Bithel suppose that he had come into
the wrong room. The shape of a man that was now put together was chiefly
contrived by rolling up the canvas cover of Bithel’s valise, which, under the
blankets, gave the fair semblance of a body. Two of Bithel’s boots were placed
so that they stuck out at the foot of the bed, a head on the pillow represented
by his sponge-bag, surmounted by Bithel’s ‘fore-and-aft’ khaki cap. No doubt
there were other properties too, which I have forgotten. The thing was quite
well done in the time available, a mild enough joke, perfectly good natured, as
the whole affair would not take more than a couple of minutes to dismantle when
Bithel himself wanted to go to bed. The effigy was just completed when the
sound came of Bithel plodding heavily up the stairs.
    ‘Here he is,’ said Kedward.
    We all went out on to the landing.
    ‘Oh, Mr Bithel,’ shouted Pumphrey. ‘There
is something you should look at here. Something very worrying.’
    Bithel came slowly on up the stairs.
He was still puffing at his cigar as he held the rail of the banisters to help
him on his way. He seemed not to hear Pumphrey’s