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      Bony novels by Arthur W. Upfield:

      1 The Barrakee Mystery / The Lure of the Bush

      2 The Sands of Windee

      3 Wings Above the Diamantina

      4 Mr Jelly’s Business/ Murder Down Under

      5 Winds of Evil

      6 The Bone is Pointed

      7 The Mystery of Swordfish Reef

      8 Bushranger of the Skies / No Footprints in the Bush

      9 Death of a Swagman

      10 The Devil’s Steps

      11 An Author Bites the Dust

      12 The Mountains Have a Secret

      13 The Widows of Broome

      14 The Bachelors of Broken Hill

      15 The New Shoe

      16 Venom House

      17 Murder Must Wait

      18 Death of a Lake

      19 Cake in the Hat Box / Sinister Stones

      20 The Battling Prophet

      21 Man of Two Tribes

      22 Bony Buys a Woman / The Bushman Who Came Back

      23 Bony and the Mouse / Journey to the Hangman

      24 Bony and the Black Virgin / The Torn Branch

      25 Bony and the Kelly Gang / Valley of Smugglers

      26 Bony and the White Savage

      27 The Will of the Tribe

      28 Madman’s Bend /The Body at Madman's Bend

      29 The Lake Frome Monster

      This corrected edition published in 2020 by ETT Imprint, Exile Bay.

      ETT IMPRINT & www.arthurupfield.com

      PO Box R1906,

      Royal Exchange

      NSW 1225 Australia

      This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Inquiries should be addressed to the publishers

      First published 1966

      First electronic edition 2013

      This edition published 2020

      Copyright William Upfield 2013, 2020

      ISBN 978-1-922384-38-6 (paper)

      ISBN 978-1-922384-39-3 (ebook)

      Digital distribution by Ebook Alchemy

      Chapter One

      Bony Takes a Gun

      When beyond Glenthompson, Detective-Inspector Napoleon Bonaparte first saw the Grampians. They rose from the vast plain of golden grass; in the beginning, isolated rocks along the north-west horizon, rising to cut sharply into the cobalt sky. The rocks united and upon that quarter of the plain it could be seen that a cosmic hurricane had lashed the earth and created a sea, a sea of blue-black waves poised to crash forward in graphitical suds.

      Distance presented mystery, released the imagination, stirred the memory. Beneath those curling wave crests surely dwelt the Beings of Australia’s Alcheringa Era, or where perhaps await the Valkyries of the Norsemen to carry the remains of heroes into the Halls of their Valhalla.

      Bonaparte had observed mountains rise above the limits of Inland Plains; rounded mountains and rugged mountains, but never mountains like these. The straight and level road seemed to be afraid of these Grampians, appeared to edge him away from them.

      It was early in March and the day was hot and still. The highway was lost before and behind in the heat mirage which had no power over the advancing mountains. After the old tourer came a voice which had spoken these words in Melbourne early the previous day:

      “Got a gun in your kit? No! I’ll get you one. One of my own. Easy to handle—easy to conceal. Take my car. I’ll have New South Wales number-plates put on it. You’d better be a Riverina pastoralist on holiday. Keep what happened to Price in your mind all the time you’re among those mountains.”

      The blue-black waves came rolling over the golden plain towards the eager Bonaparte. He was inclined to stop and watch them. The voice of Superintendent Bolt, Chief of the C.I.B., again came winging along the road.

      “Persons are always disappearing. Most of ’em because they want to, and some because they are bumped off and successfully planted. Persons disappear singly; it’s rare that two or more disappear together. Two young women went by train to Dunkeld and from there set off on a hike through the Grampians. They reached a pub called Baden Park Hotel, stayed there a couple of days. After they left that pub they were never seen again.

      “That was October twenty-second last. They weren’t fools in the bush. They carried camping gear, and they had tucker for emergencies. The country is laced with running streams. Not a solitary sign of them was found after they left Baden Park Hotel.

      “Weeks after the search was stopped, young Price went into the Grampians. He was one of our promising young men. Born in the Gippsland mountains. Stayed at the Baden Park Hotel for ten or eleven days. He was found dead in his car twenty-five miles away. Shot dead. No connection with the young women, so my officers think. I don’t know. I’m not sure about that. If you’re interested, memorise the summary. Take a gun—take a gun—take this one. It comes easy into your fist.”

      Dunkeld came swimming through the heat-waves to welcome Bony, a township old and crinkly, but natty as were the men and the women who first came this way with their bullock drays. Just beyond the shallow valley to the north stood the first of the mountains, facing sheerly to the east, its long western slope massed with trees.

      Bony found the hotel, before which he parked his borrowed car on the place where, for a hundred years, coaches had stood whilst the passengers took refreshment and the horses were changed. The small bar being empty of customers, he drank a glass of beer with the landlord and discussed the district so beloved by artists. Following lunch, he announced that he would look round the township, and so came to the police station and entered.

      “Glad to meet you, sir,” Senior Constable Groves told him. “Heard about your coming from Headquarters. Anything I can do?”

      His visitor having seated himself beside the littered desk, Groves surveyed him, noting with shrewd grey eyes the gabardine slacks, the open-necked shirt, the dark brown arms, and the fingers which at once were employed making a cigarette. Without raising his gaze from the task, Bony said:

      “Yes. Please report that I arrived here today and left again this afternoon. I am going on to Baden Park Hotel. D’you know why I am here?”

      “No, sir, although I could make an easy guess. I’ve been instructed to render all assistance and to supply you with everything you may call for.”

      A match was held to the cigarette and, through the resultant smoke, Groves saw a pair of brilliant blue eyes examining him with expressionless intensity. The smoke drifted ceilingwards and warmth entered the blue eyes. The policeman wondered. The slight, lounging figure was not in focus with the picture of a detective-inspector painted for him by his superiors.

      “I am interested in the fate of the two young ladies who disappeared in the Grampians last October,” Bony slowly said. “After the thorough search for them, I don’t expect to discover much of value. Still, I have succeeded in similar cases. Might I expect your collaboration?”

      “Certainly,

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