Jonah and Co.
by Dornford Yates · English · Gutenberg #27079 · 522,051 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Jonah and Co.
Author: Dornford Yates
Release date: January 9, 2009 [eBook #27079]
Most recently updated: January 4, 2021
Language: English
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JONAH AND CO.
BY
DORNFORD YATES
WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED
LONDON AND MELBOURNE
LIBRARY EDITIONS OF "JONAH AND CO."
First Published September 1922
Reprinted 2,000 October 1922
Reprinted 2,000 October 1923
Reprinted 2,000 September 1924
Reprinted 2,000 May 1925
Reprinted 3,000 February 1926
Reprinted 12,000 June 1927
Reprinted 8,000 March 1928
Reprinted 5,000 August 1929
Reprinted 10,000 August 1930
Reprinted 10,000 February 1933
Reprinted 8,000 December 1935
Reprinted 8,000 March 1939
Reprinted 5,000 February 1942
Reprinted 9,000 December 1943
BOOK
PRODUCTION
WAR ECONOMY
STANDARD
THE TYPOGRAPHY OF THIS BOOK
CONFORMS TO THE
AUTHORIZED ECONOMY STANDARD.
MADE IN ENGLAND
Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner Ltd., Frome and London
To
ELM TREE ROAD
_MY LADY,_
_It is hard, sitting here, to believe that, if I would call for a cab,
I could be in St. James's Street in less than ten minutes of time.
Nevertheless, it is true. I have proved it so many times. Soon I
shall prove it for the last time._
_Better men than I will sit in this study and pace the lawn in the
garden with the high walls. The lilies and laburnums and all the gay
fellowship of flowers will find a new waterman. The thrushes and
blackbirds and wood-pigeons will find a new victualler. The private
forecourt, so richly hung with creeper, will give back my footfalls no
more. Other eyes will dwell gratefully upon the sweet pretty house and
look proudly out of its leaded window-panes._
_The old order changeth, my lady. And so I am going, before I am
driven out._
_Nine years ago there was a farm upon the opposite side of the road--a
little old English farm. Going out of my door of a morning, I used to
meet ducks and geese that were taking the air. And horses came home at
even, and cows lowed. Now the farm is gone, and a garage has taken its
room. And other changes have come, and others still are coming._
_So, you see, my lady, it is high time I was gone._
_This quiet study has seen the making of my books. This--the last it
will see--I make bold to offer to you for many reasons, but mainly
because, for one thing, this house belongs to you and, for another, no
hostess was ever so charming to the stranger within her gates._
_I have the honour to be,_
_Your ladyship's humble servant,
DORNFORD YATES._
_Number Six._
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I HOW BERRY STEPPED INTO THE BREACH, AND JONAH
CAME FIRST AND WAS FIRST SERVED
II HOW THREE WAGERS WERE MADE, AND ADÈLE
KILLED TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE
III HOW A GOLDEN CALF WAS SET UP, AND NOBBY
SHOWED HIMSELF A TRUE PROPHET
IV HOW BERRY MADE AN ENGAGEMENT, JILL A PICTURE,
AND ADÈLE A SLIP OF SOME IMPORTANCE
V HOW LOVE CAME TO JILL, HERBERT TO THE RESCUE,
AND A YOUNG MAN BY HIS RIGHT
VI HOW BERRY RAN CONTRABAND GOODS, AND THE
DUKE OF PADUA PLIGHTED JILL HIS TROTH
VII HOW DAPHNE LOST HER BEDFELLOW, AND THE LINE
OF LEAST RESISTANCE PROVED IRRESISTIBLE
VIII HOW ADÈLE BOUGHT A BOTTLE OF PERFUME WHICH
HAD NO SMELL, AND I CUT EULALIE DEAD
IX HOW JONAH TOOK OFF HIS COAT, AND BERRY
FLIRTED WITH FORTUNE FOR ALL HE WAS WORTH
X HOW BERRY SOUGHT COMFORT IN VAIN, AND NOBBY
SLEPT UPON A QUEEN'S BED
XI HOW BERRY PUT OFF HIS MANHOOD, AND ADÈLE
SHOWED A FAIR PAIR OF HEELS
XII HOW A TELEGRAM CAME FOR JILL, PIERS DEMANDED
HIS SWEETHEART, AND I DROVE AFTER MY WIFE
_All the characters in this story are imaginary and have
no reference to any living person._
JONAH AND CO.
CHAPTER I
HOW BERRY STEPPED INTO THE BREACH, AND JONAH CAME FIRST AND WAS FIRST
SERVED.
"Shall I massage it?" said Berry. The suggestion was loudly condemned.
"Right," replied my brother-in-law. "That reduces us to faith-healing.
On the command 'One,' make your mind a blank--that shouldn't be
difficult--realise that the agony you aren't suffering is imaginary,
and close both legs. One! On the command 'Two'----"
"You can go," I said wearily. "You can go. I'll write to you when I
want you. Don't bother to leave your address."
"But how vulgar," said Berry. "How very vulgar." He paused to glance
at his watch. "Dear me! Half-past ten, and I haven't had my beer
yet." He stepped to the door. "Should the pain become excruciating,
turn upon the stomach and repeat Kipling's 'If.' Should----"
My sister and Jill fairly bundled him out of the doorway.
Sitting by my side upon the bed, Adèle laid her cheek against mine.
"Is it any better, old chap?"
"The pain's practically stopped," said I, "thank Heaven. Putting it
up's done that. But I'm in for a stiff leg, dear. I know that. Not
that that matters really, but it means I can't drive."
It was unfortunate that, before I had been upon French soil for half an
hour, I should be kicked by a testy cab-horse of whose existence--much
less proximity--thanks to the poor lighting of Boulogne, I had been
totally unaware. I had been kicked upon the same knee in 1916. On
that occasion I had gone with a stiff leg for a fortnight. It seemed
unpleasantly probable that history would wholly repeat itself.
"I can travel," I continued. "I shall be able to walk with a stick,
but I shan't be able to drive. And, as Jonah can't drive more than one
car at a time, Berry'll have to take the other."
At my words Daphne started, and Jill gave a little cry.
"B-but, Boy, he's only had three lessons."
"I know, but he'll get through somehow. I'll sit by his side. It'll
shorten my life, of course, but what else can we do? Even if Fitch was
here, there's no room for a chauffeur. And you'd find towing tedious
after the first five hundred miles."
With a white forefinger to her lips, my sister regarded me.
"I know he's a disgrace," she said slowly, "but he's--he's the only
husband I've got, Boy, and--he has his points," she concluded softly
with the tenderest smile.
I stretched out a hand and drew her towards me.
"Isn't he my only brother, darling? Isn't he--Berry? I'll see he
comes to no harm."
"You really think it's safe?"
"Perfectly. For one thing, I shall be able to reach the hand-brake
rather more easily than he will...."
My sister kissed me.
"I like the sound of that," she said cheerfully.
It was the fifth day of November, and all six of us were for the
Pyrenees.
A month ago Adèle and I, new-wed, had visited Pau. We had found the
place good, conceived the idea of spending the winter there, and wired
for instructions. Within three days we had received four letters.
The first was from Jill.
_ADÈLE DARLING,_
_How sweet of you both to think of it! We're all simply thrilled. Try
and get one with a palm-tree and some wistaria. We miss you awfully.
Tell Boy Nobby is splendid and sends his love. Oh, and he smells his
coat every day. Isn't it pathetic P My hair won't go like yours, but
I'm going to try again. All our love to you and your HUSBAND,_
_JILL._
Then came Jonah's.
_DEAR BOY,_
_What about tobacco? You might examine the chances of smuggling. I'm
sending you a hundred cigarettes conspicuously labelled BENGER'S FOOD,
to see what happens. I suppose the roads are pretty bad. What about
fishing?_
_Yours,
JONAH._
(I subsequently received a curt communication to the effect that there
was a package, addressed to me and purporting to contain "Farine,"
lying at the local custom-house. Adèle was horrified. I endeavoured
to reassure her, tore up the notice, and cursed my cousin savagely.
When three days had passed, and I was still at liberty, Adèle plucked
up heart, but, for the rest of our visit, upon sight of a gendarme she
was apt to become distrait and lose the thread of her discourse.)
A letter from Daphne had arrived the next day.
_DEAREST ADÈLE,_
_We're all delighted with the idea._
_I don't think six months would be too long. I agree that a villa
would be much the best, and we're perfectly content to leave the
selection to you. You know what room we must have. I suppose two
bathrooms would be too much to expect. About servants: we can bring
some, but I think we ought to have a French cook to do the marketing,
and perhaps one other to keep her company and help in the kitchen and
house. Will you see what you can do? Plate and linen, of course, we
can bring. By the way, Madge Willoughby tells me that last year in
France they had some difficulty about coal; so tell Boy to see if he
can order some now. All this, of course, if you can get a villa._
_Your loving sister,
DAPHNE._
Berry's came last.
_DEAR BROTHER,_
_So we shall ourselves winter this year at Pau?_ Eh bien! _There are,
perhaps, worse places. At least, the sun will shine. Ma foi, to think
that upon you depend all the arrangements._ Tant pis! _My suite must
face itself south and adjoin the bathroom. Otherwise I cannot answer
for my health, or, for the matter of that, yours either._
_Kindly omit from your next letter any reference to the mountains.
"Impressions of the Pyrenees" by a fool who has been married for less
than three weeks not only are valueless, but make my gorge rise--_une
élévation très dangereuse.
_Which brings me to your wife. How is the shrew? Tell her I have some
socks for her to darn on her return._
_It was thoughtful of you to emphasise the fact that the season of
green figs, to a surfeit of which I sincerely hope you will succumb,
will be over before I reach Pau. I am inclined to think that the five
hundred cigars George sent you will be over even earlier. Besides, I
shall at once console and distend myself with_ foie gras.
_We must have a French cook, of course--a very priestess of
Gluttony--skilful to lure the timid appetite from the fastness of
satiety._ Enfin....
_I ask myself why I shall have made the trouble to write to you. You
have, of course, an opportunity unique of making a mess with a copper
bottom of my life for six months._ Mais, mon Dieu, que vous serez puni!
Je t'embrasse, vieil haricot, sur les deux joues.
_BERRY_
_P.S.--This here letter is a talisman, and should be worn upon the
exterior of the abdominal wall during a drought._
Considering the nature of our holiday, Adèle and I did not do so badly.
Before we left Pau, I had signed the lease of an attractive villa,
standing well in its own grounds and commanding a prospect of the
mountains as fine as could be. Adèle had engaged a Frenchwoman and her
daughter, both of whom were well spoken of, and had been in the service
of English and American families before the War. A supply of fuel had
been reserved and various minor arrangements had been concluded. Ere
we were back at White Ladies, October was old.
It had been Jonah's belated suggestion that our migration should be
accomplished by car. It was Jonah's enterprise that reduced the
upheaval of our plans, consequent upon the instant adoption of his
idea, to order and convenience. By the third of November everything
had been arranged. The heavier stuff had been embarked for Bordeaux;
the servants were ready to accompany the rest of the luggage by way of
Paris; the Rolls had been sold. In the latter's place we had purchased
two smaller cars--both new, both of the same make, both coupés, both
painted blue. Indeed, but for their numbers, which were consecutive,
we could not have told them apart. Each seated three
inside--comfortably, while a respectable quantity of baggage could be
easily bestowed in each of the capacious boots.
Certainly my cousin's staff work had been superb.
In the circumstances it seemed hardly fair that upon this, the first
night of our venture, he should be faced with the labour of shepherding
both cars, single-handed, first clear of the Customs, and then, one by
one, through the cold, dark streets which led from the quay to the
garage of the hotel.
As if she had read my thought--
"Poor Jonah!" said Adèle suddenly. "I wonder----"
A knock upon the door interrupted her.
This, being opened, admitted Nobby, two porters, our luggage, two
waiters, a large dish of sandwiches, some beer, coffee and its
accessories, Jonah, and finally Berry.
"You must be tired," said the latter. "Let's sit down, shall I?" He
sank into a chair. "And how's the comic _patella_? I well remember,
when I was in Plumbago, a somewhat similar accident. A large
cherry-coloured _gibus_, on its wrong side----"
"At the present moment," said I, wrestling with the Sealyham's
advances, "we're more concerned with your future than with your past.
It's the Bank of England to a ha'p'orth of figs that to-morrow morning
I shall have a stiff leg. Very good." I paused. "Those three lessons
you've had," I added carelessly, "will come in useful."
Jonah, who was filling a tumbler, started violently and spilled some
beer. Then he leaned against the wall and began to laugh helplessly.
Coldly Berry regarded him.
"I fail," he said stiffly, "to see the point of your mirth. I gather
that it is proposed to enjoy my services for the propulsion of one of
the automobiles--that, while you will be responsible for the 'shoving'
of Ping, these delicate hands will flick Pong across France. Very
good. Let the Press be informed; call forth the ballad-mongers. What
would have been a somewhat sordid drive will become a winged flight,
sublime and deathless."
"I trust so," said Jonah. "Six hundred miles with a fool at the wheel
is a tall order, but, if your companions survive the first two days,
they ought to pull through. Try not to do more than five pounds' worth
of damage to the gallon, won't you?"
"Sour grapes," said Berry. "The professional reviles the distinguished
amateur."
"Seriously," said I, "it's no laughing matter."
"I agree," said Daphne. "You'll have to just crawl along all the way.
After all, we've got six months to get there in. Promise me you won't
try and pass anything."
"I promise," replied her husband. "Should another vehicle approach,
I'll stop the engine and go and hide in a wood till it's gone."
"Fool," said his wife. "I meant 'overtake anything' of course. You
know I did. Promise you won't try and rush past things just to get in
front of them."
I took up the cudgels.
"We've got to get along, darling, and he can't give a promise like
that. You wouldn't want to do fifty miles behind a traction-engine,
would you? Remember, I shall be by his side. He may be holding the
wheel, but I shall be driving the car. Make him promise to obey me
implicitly, if you like."
"That's right," said Jill. "You will, won't you, Berry?"
The latter looked at Adèle.
"Do you also subscribe to my humiliation?" he said.
Adèle smiled and nodded.
"Unquestionably," she said. "By the time you get to Pau, you'll be an
expert. And then you can teach me."
"The pill-gilder," said my brother-in-law. "Well, well. So far as in
me lies, I'll do as I'm told. But I insist upon plain English. I'm
not going to be suddenly yelled at to 'double-clutch,' or 'feel the
brake,' or 'close the throttle,' or something. It makes me want to
burst into tears. That fellow who was teaching me asked me, without
any warning and in the middle of some sheep, what I should do if one of
my 'big ends were to run out.' I said I should consult a specialist,
but the question upset me. Indirectly, it also upset the shepherd....
Which reminds me, I never knew a human being could jump so far. The
moment he felt the radiator...."
"You never told us this," said Daphne reproachfully. "If I'd known
you'd knocked somebody down----"
"I never knocked him down," said Berry. "I tell you he jumped.... We
stopped, of course, and explained. He was a little nettled at first,
but we parted on the best of terms."
"It's all very well," said my sister, "but I'd no idea----"
"Every dog must have his bite," said I, laughing. "He won't do it
again. And now, since I'm tethered, will somebody give me some beer?"
Then and there supper was consumed.
A vigorous discussion of the turn events had taken, and the advancement
and scrutiny of a variety of high speculations regarding the probable
style of our progress to Pau, prevailed until past twelve o'clock, but
at length the others were evicted, and Adèle, Nobby, and I were able to
prepare for the night.
Out of the luxurious silence of a hot bath Adèle's voice came floating
into the bedroom.
"Boy!"
"Yes, lady?"
"I wish I was going with you to-morrow instead of Daphne."
"So do I," I said heartily.
Adèle sighed. Then--
"It can't be helped," she said. "I think, on the whole, she would have
worried more than I shall."
"Not a doubt of it," said I cheerfully. "As she said, Berry's the only
husband she's got."
Adèle choked. Presently--
"The real reason," she said, "is because she mistrusts her husband even
more than I trust mine."
When I had worked this out--
"Aha," I said pleasedly.
"But then, of course," said Adèle, "she's been married much longer."
* * * * *
With Rouen as our objective, we left Boulogne the next morning at ten
o'clock. To speak more accurately, we left the hotel at ten o'clock
and Boulogne itself some forty minutes later. The negotiation of an
up-gradient leading out of the town was responsible for the delay.
My sister and I shall remember that hill so long as we live. So, I
imagine, will Berry. We were half-way up when he stopped the engine
for the first time. We were still half-way up when he stopped it for
the eighth time. Indeed, it was at this juncture that I suggested that
he should rest from his labours and smoke a cigarette.
My brother-in-law shook his head.
"Shall I slide down backwards and begin again?" he inquired.
"No, thanks," said I. "I have a foolish preference for facing death."
"D'you think we could push it up?" said Daphne.
"Frankly," said I, "I don't. You see, she weighs over a ton without
the luggage."
Berry cleared his throat.
"I am not," he said, "going through the farce of asking what I do
wrong, because I know the answer. It's not the right one, but you seem
incapable of giving any other."
"I am," said I.
"Well, don't say it," said Berry, "because, if you do, I shall scream.
No man born of woman could let in that clutch more slowly, and yet you
say it's too fast. The truth is, there's something wrong with the car."
"There soon will be," I retorted. "The starter will fail. Then every
time you stop the engine you'll have to get out and crank. That'll
make you think."
"'Make me think'?" yelled Berry. "D'you think I haven't been thinking?
D'you think I'm not thinking now? Haven't I almost burst my brains
with thinking?" Daphne began to laugh helplessly. "That's right,"
added her husband savagely. "See the humorous side. I may go mad any
minute, but don't let that stop you." And, with that, he set his foot
upon the self-starter.
When he had stopped the engine another three times, he applied the
hand-brake with unnecessary violence, sank back in his seat, and folded
his hands.
My sister and I clung to one another in an agony of stifled mirth.
Berry closed his eyes.
"My work," he said quietly, "is over. I now see that it is ordained
that we shall not leave this spot. There's probably an angel in the
way with a drawn sword, and the car sees it, although we can't. Any
way, I'm not going to fight against Fate. And now don't speak to me.
I'm going to dwell on bullock-carts and goat-chaises and other
horse-drawn vehicles. I shan't last many minutes, and I should like to
die in peace."
With a swift rush, Ping drew up alongside. From its interior Adèle,
Jill, Nobby and Jonah peered at us excitedly.
"Hullo!" said the latter. "What's up?"
"Go away," said Berry. "Drive on to your doom. An apparition has
appeared to us, warning us not to proceed. It was quite definite about
it. Good-bye."
"Jonah, old chap," said I, "I'm afraid you're for it. Unless you take
us up, we shall be here till nightfall."
With a groan my cousin opened his door and descended into the road....
One minute later we were at the top of the hill.
"And now," said Daphne, with the _Michelin Guide_ open upon her knees,
"now for Montreuil."
When five minutes had passed and my brother-in-law was breathing
through his nose less audibly, I lighted a cigarette and ventured to
look about me.
It was certainly a fine highway that we were using. Broad, direct,
smooth beyond all expectation, it lay like a clean-cut sash upon the
countryside, rippling away into the distance as though it were indeed
that long, long lane that hath no turning. Presently a curve would
come to save the face of the proverb, but the bends were few in number,
and, as a general rule, did little more than switch the road a point or
two to east or west, as, the mood took them. There was little traffic,
and the surface was dry.
Something had been said about the two cars keeping together, but I was
not surprised when Jonah passed us like a whirlwind before we were
half-way to Samer. He explained afterwards that he had stuck it as
long as he could, but that to hold a car down to twenty on a road like
a private racing-track was worse than "pulling."
Fired by Jonah's example, Berry laid hold of the wheel, and we took the
next hill at twenty-five.
It was a brilliant day, but the cold was intense, and I think we were
all glad that Pong was a closeable car. That Winter's reign had begun
was most apparent. There was a bleak look upon the country's face:
birch-rods that had been poplars made us gaunt avenues: here and there
the cold jewellery of frost was sparkling. I fell to wondering how far
south we must go to find it warmer.
Presently we came to Montreuil.
As we entered the little town--
"This," said I, "was the headquarters of the British Expeditionary
Force. From behind these walls----"
"Don't talk," said Daphne, "or I shall make a mistake. Round to the
left here. Wait a minute. No, that's right. And straight on. What a
blessing this _Michelin Guide_ is! Not too fast, Berry. Straight on.
This ought to be _Grande Rue_." She peered out of the window. "Yes,
that's right. Now, in a minute you turn to the left...."
After all, I reflected, we had to get to Rouen, and it was past mid-day.
We had sworn not to lunch before we had passed Abbeville, so, since we
had breakfasted betimes, I furtively encouraged my brother-in-law to
"put her along." His response was to overtake and pass a lorry upon
the wrong side, drive an unsuspecting bicyclist into a ditch and
swerve, like a drunken sea-gull, to avoid a dead fowl. As we were
going over forty it was all over before we knew where we were, but the
impression of impending death was vivid and lasting, and nearly a
minute had elapsed before I could trust my voice.
"Are we still alive?" breathed Daphne. "I'm afraid to open my eyes."
"I think we must be," said I. "At least, I'm still thirsty, if that's
anything to go by."
"I consider," said Berry, "that the way in which I extricated us from
that _impasse_ was little short of masterly. That cyclist ought to
remember me in his prayers."
"I don't want to discourage you," I said grimly, "but I shouldn't bank
on it."
The plan of Abbeville, printed in the Guide, was as simple to read as
were my sister's directions to follow. At a critical moment, however,
Berry felt unable to turn to the right.
"The trouble is," he explained, as we plunged into a maze of back
streets, "I've only got two hands and feet. To have got round that
corner, I should have had to take out the clutch, go into third,
release the brake, put out a hand, accelerate, sound the clarion and
put the wheel over simultaneously. Now, with seven limbs I could have
done it. With eight, I could also have scratched myself--an operation,
I may say, which can be no longer postponed." He drew up before a
_charcuterie_ and mopped his face. "What a beautiful bunch of
sausages!" he added. "Shall we get some? Or d'you think they'd be
dead before we get to Rouen?"
In contemptuous silence Daphne lowered her window, accosted the first
passer-by, and asked the way. An admission that it was possible to
reach the Neufchatel road without actually retracing our steps was at
length extracted, and, after a prolonged study of the plan, my sister
gave the word to proceed. Save that we twice mounted the pavement,
grazed a waggon, and literally brushed an urchin out of the way, our
emergence from Abbeville was accomplished without further incident.
With the knowledge that, barring accidents, we ought to reach Rouen by
half-past five, we ventured to devour a wayside lunch some ten minutes
later.
It was after Neufchatel that the surface of the great grey road argued
neglect in no uncertain terms. For mile after mile, fat bulls of
Basan, in the shape of gigantic pot-holes, gaped threateningly upon us.
Berry, who was driving much better, did all that he could, but only a
trick-cyclist could have picked his way between them. The car
hiccoughed along piteously....
With the approach of darkness, driving became a burden, being driven a
weariness of the flesh, and we were all thankful when we slid down a
paved hill into the Cathedral City and, presently, past the great
church and on to the very bank of the River Seine.
The others had been awaiting us for nearly two hours.
* * * * *
"With this sun," said Adèle, "they ought to be glorious."
Impiously I reflected that Berry was almost certainly enjoying his
breakfast in bed.
"I expect they will," I said abstractedly.
Adèle slid an arm through mine.
"It's very sweet of you to come with me, Boy."
I stood still and looked at her.
"You're a wonderful child," I said. "When you speak like that, I want
to kick myself and burst into song simultaneously. I suppose that's
Love."
"I expect so," said Adèle mischievously.
Five minutes later we were standing beneath the shadow of Chartres
Cathedral.
We had come, my wife and I, to see the windows. The day before had
been dull, and what light there was had been failing when we had
visited the shrine. To-day, however, was all glorious.
If we had risen early, we had our reward.
The place had become a gallery with jewels for pictures. Out of the
sombre depths the aged webs of magic glowed with the matchless flush of
precious stones. From every side colours we had not dreamed of
enriched our eyes. To make the great west rose, the world herself
might have been spoiled of her gems. Looking upon this mystery, no man
can wonder that the art is lost. Clearly it went the way of Babel.
For of such is the Kingdom of Heaven. Windows the sun was lighting
were at once more real and more magnificent. Crimsons and blues,
purples and greens, yellows and violets, blazed with that ancient
majesty which only lives to-day in the peal of a great organ, the call
of a silver trumpet, or the proud roll of drums. Out of the gorgeous
pageant mote-ridden rays issued like messengers, to badge the cold grey
stone with tender images and set a smile upon the face of stateliness.
"Such old, old panes," says someone. "Six hundred years and more. How
wonderful!" Pardon me, but I have seen them, and it is not wonderful
at all. Beneath their spell, centuries shrink to afternoons. The
windows of Chartres are above Time. They are the peepholes of
Immortality.
We returned to the hotel in time to contribute to a heated argument
upon the subject of tipping.
"It's perfectly simple," said Berry. "You think of what you would hate
to have given before the War, double it, add forty per cent. for the
increased cost of living, halve it because of the Exchange, ask them
whether they'd like it in notes or gold, and pay them in
postage-stamps."
"I want to know," said Daphne, "what to give the chambermaid."
"Eight francs fifty. That's the equivalent of half-a-crown before the
War."
"Nonsense," said his wife. "Five francs is heaps, and you know it."
"I think it's too much," said Berry. "Give her one instead, and tell
her you've hidden the rest in the bathroom and that, when she touches
the towel-rail, she's warm."
"As a matter of fact," said Jill uneasily, "it's all over. I've done
it."
There was a dreadful silence. Then--
"Tell us the worst," said I, "and get it over."
"I'm--I'm afraid I gave her rather a lot, but she had a nice face."
"She had a nice step," said Berry. "I noticed that about five this
morning."
"How much?" said I relentlessly.
Jill looked round guiltily.
"I gave her fifty," she said.
There was a shriek of laughter.
"Did she faint?" said Berry. "Or try to eat grass, or anything?"
Gravely Jill shook her head.
"She talked a great deal--very fast. I couldn't follow her. And then
she turned away and began to cry. I was so glad I'd done it."
"So are we all," said Daphne.
She was supported heartily.
Jonah looked at his watch.
"I suggest," he said, "that we start at eleven, then we shall fetch up
in time to see the cathedral."
"How far is Tours?" said Daphne.
"Eighty-six miles."
"Let's keep together to-day," said Jill. "It's much more fun."
Her brother shook his head.
"I don't want," he said, "to be arrested for loitering."
"Don't you worry," said Berry. "We wouldn't be seen with you."
Jonah sighed.
"Where there's a will there's a way," he murmured.
"More," said Berry. "We regard you rather less than the dust beneath
our detachable wheels. You pollute the road with your hoghood. I
suppose it's no use asking you to keep behind us."
"None whatever," replied our cousin. "Why should we?"
"Well," said Berry, "supposing a tire discovers that I'm driving and
bursts with pride, who's going to change the wheel?"
Jonah stifled a yawn.
"You can't have it both ways," he said. "If we're to warn people not
to shoot at you, we must be in front."
Berry regarded his finger-nails.
"Perhaps you're right," he said. "Think of me when you get your third
puncture, won't you? And remember that my heart goes out to you in
your tire trouble and that you have all my love. Then you won't sweat
so much."
Half an hour later Pong stormed out of the garage and into the _Place
des Epars_.
Adèle's wish had been granted, and she was travelling with Berry and me
instead of with Jonah.
For this new order of battle Nobby was solely responsible. Upon the
first day's journey the terrier had whined all the way to Rouen because
he had wanted to be with me. As one of his audience, Jonah had been
offensively outspoken regarding this predilection. Upon the following
day the dog's desire had been gratified, whereupon he had whined all
the way to Chartres because he was apart from Adèle. Commenting upon
this unsuspected devotion, Berry had been quite as outspoken as Jonah,
and much more offensive. Naturally, to withstand such importunity was
out of the question, and, since it was impossible for me to leave
Berry, the line of least resistance was followed, and Daphne and Adèle
changed places.
Our way out of Chartres was short and simple, and, with the exception
of temporarily obstructing two trams by the artless expedient of
remaining motionless upon the permanent way, Pong emerged from the city
without a stain upon his character.
The Vendôme road looked promising and proved excellent. Very soon we
were flying. For all that, Jonah overtook us as we were nearing
Bonneval....
It was some thirty minutes later, as we were leaving Châteaudun, that a
sour-faced _gendarme_ with a blue nose motioned to us to stop.
Standing upon the near pavement, the fellow was at once conversing with
a postman and looking malevolently in our direction. I think we all
scented mischief.
"What can he want?" growled Berry, as he brought the car to a
standstill.
"He's probably being officious," said I, getting our papers ready.
"We're strangers, and he's in a bad humour. Consequently, he's going
to scrutinise our _triptyque_, passports, passes and certificates, to
see if he can accuse us of anything. Happily they're all in order, so
he'll be disappointed. When he's thoroughly satisfied that he can
bring no charge against us, he'll order us to proceed."
"He's taking his time about it," observed my brother-in-law.
I looked up from the documents.
My gentleman was still talking to the postman, while his pig's eyes
were still surveying the car. From his companion's demeanour, he
seemed to be whetting his wit at our expense.
"This is intolerable," said I. "Ask him what he wants, lady."
Adèle leaned forward and put her head out of the window.
"I think you wished us to stop, _Monsieur_?"
The _gendarme_ waved his hand.
"Wait," he said insolently.
The postman sniggered shamefacedly.
Adèle sank back in her seat, her cheeks flaming.
In a voice trembling with passion I conjured Berry to proceed.
The moment the car moved, the official sprang forward, gesticulating
furiously.
As we passed him, I put out my head.
"Now it's our turn," I said warmly, "to make the postman laugh."
From the hoarse yells which followed us, it was clear that we had left
the fellow beside himself with rage. Looking back through the little
window, I could see him dancing. Suddenly he stopped, peered after us,
and then swung about and ran ridiculously up the street.
"Blast him, he's going to telephone!" said I. "Where's the map?"
Together Adèle and I pored over the sections.
"If," said Berry, "you're going to direct me to turn off, for Heaven's
sake be quick about it. At the present moment I'm just blinding along
into the blue and, for all I know, an oversized hornets' nest. Of
course they mayn't sting when there's an 'r' in the month, but then
they mightn't know that. Or am I thinking of oysters?"
"They'll stop us at Vendôme," said I. "Not before. Right oh! We must
turn to the right at Cloyes and make for St. Calais. We can get round
to Tours that way. It'll take us about twenty miles out of our way,
but----"
"Yes, and when we don't show up at Vendôme, they'll wire to Calais.
Seriously, as Shakespeare says, I'm all of a doo-dah."
That we should be stopped at St. Calais was not likely, and I said as
much. What did worry me, because it was far more probable, was that
when they drew blank at Vendôme, the authorities would telephone to
Tours. Any apprehension, however, regarding our reception at that city
was soon mercifully, unmercifully, and somewhat paradoxically
overshadowed by a more instant anxiety lest we should never arrive
there at all. From the moment we left the main road, the obstacles in
the shape of uncharted roads and villages, pavements, cattle, goats, a
horse fair, and finally a series of appalling gradients, opposed our
passage. All things considered, my brother-in-law drove admirably.
But it was a bad business, and, while my wife and Berry were very
staunch, I think we all regretted that I had been so high with Blue
Nose.
Night had fallen ere we slunk into Tours.
Fully expecting to find that the others had well-nigh given us up, we
were astounded to learn at the hotel that Ping had not yet arrived.
Indeed, we had finished dinner, and were debating seriously whether we
should take a hired car and go to seek them, when there was a flurry of
steps in the corridor, Nobby rushed to the door, and the next moment
Daphne and Jill burst into the room.
"My darling," said Berry, advancing, "where on earth have you been?"
My sister put her arms about his neck and looked into his eyes.
"Kiss me 'Good-bye,'" she said. "Jonah's just coming."
Her husband stared at her. Then--
"Is it as bad as all that?" he said. "Dear, dear. And how did he get
the booze?"
Somebody cleared his throat.
I swung round, to see Jonah regarding us.
"You three beauties," he said. "Four with Nobby."
"But what do you mean?" said Adèle. "What have we done?"
"Done?" cried Jonah. "Done? Where d'you think we've been?"
"It can't have been goats that stopped you," said Berry, "because I had
all the goats. There was a great rally of goats at St. Calais this
afternoon. It was a wonderful smell--I mean sight."
"Guess again," said Jonah grimly.
"You haven't been waiting for us on the road?" said I.
"You're getting warmer," was the reply.
Adèle gave a sudden cry.
"O-o-oh, Jonah," she gasped, "you've been at Vendôme!"
I started violently, and Berry, who was about to speak, choked.
"That's right," said Jonah shortly. "Nice little place--what I saw of
it.... Lovely view from the police-station." He leaned against the
mantelpiece and lighted a cigarette. "It may amuse you to know," he
added, "that the expiation of your crime took us six and a half hours
and cost five hundred francs."
In response to our thirsty enquiries, the tale came bubbling.
My surmise that the blue-nosed _gendarme_ would telephone to Vendôme
had been well-founded. He had forwarded an exact description of Pong,
together with the letters and the first three figures of the four
appearing upon the number-plate. Six minutes later Ping had sailed
innocently into Vendôme--and up to her doom....
The Vendôme police could hardly believe their eyes. Here was the
offending car, corresponding in every particular to the one described
to them, admittedly fresh from Châteaudun, yet having covered the
thirty-nine kilometres in eleven minutes. It was amazing ... almost
incredible ... almost.... Of outlaws, however, all things were
credible--even a speed of one hundred and thirty-six miles an hour.
For it was without doubt that outlaw which had flouted Authority at
Châteaudun. Oh, indubitably. And, having thus flouted Authority, what
was more natural than that it should endeavour to outstrip the
consequences of its deed? But, _mon Dieu_, what wickedness!
In vain had Jonah protested and Daphne declared their innocence. The
telephone was again requisitioned, and the blue-nosed _gendarme_
summoned and cross-examined. As luck would have it, he could not speak
to the passengers, beyond affirming that they included one man and one
woman.... When he gratuitously added that the reason why he could not
swear to the whole of the number was because of the terrible pace at
which the car was moving, the game was up....
Finding that the accusation of travelling at a horrifying speed was
assuming a serious look, my sister and cousins at length decided that
they had no alternative but to give us away. They had, of course,
realised that Pong was implicated from the beginning. Consequently,
with the flourish of one who has hit upon the solution of a problem,
they divulged our existence. They were politely, but wholly
disbelieved. In reply, they had politely, but confidently, invited the
police to wait and see....
For over four hours they had anxiously awaited the arrival of Pong.
When at last the humiliating truth began to dawn upon them, and it
became evident that we had ruled Vendôme out of our itinerary, the
shock of realising, not only that they were to be denied an opportunity
of refuting the charges preferred, but that they were destined to leave
the town branded as three of the biggest and most unsuccessful liars
ever encountered, had well-nigh reduced Daphne and Jill to tears. And
when, upon the sickly resumption of negotiations, it appeared highly
probable that they would not be permitted to proceed, Jill had wept
openly....
France is nothing if not emotional.
Visibly affected by her distress, the police had immediately become
less hostile. Observing this, Daphne had discreetly followed her
cousin's example. Before the sledge-hammer blows of their lamentation
two gendarmes began to sniff and a third broke down. The girls
redoubled their sobs. They were practically there.
"You never saw anything like it," concluded Jonah. "Within three
minutes four of the police were crying, and the head bottle-washer was
beating his breast and imploring me in broken accents to explain away
my guilt. I threw five hundred francs on his desk and covered my eyes.
With tears rolling down his cheeks, he pushed the notes under a
blotting-pad and wrote laboriously upon a buff sheet. Then a woman was
produced. Between explosions of distress she made us some tea. In
common decency we couldn't push off for a while. Besides, I wasn't
quite sure that it was all over. However, everybody seemed too
overcome to say anything, so, after a bit, we chanced it and made a
move for the car. To my relief, they actually helped us in, and two of
them fought as to who should start us up." He looked round coldly.
"And now, perhaps, you'll be good enough to tell us what we've been
punished for."
I told what there was to tell.
As I came to the end. Berry nodded at Jonah.
"Yes," he said unctuously, "and let this be a lesson to you, brother."
Speechless with indignation, our cousin regarded him.
At length--
"What d'you mean?" he demanded.
Berry raised his eyebrows.
"I hardly think," he said, "the penalty for--er--loitering would have
been so vindictive."
CHAPTER II
HOW THREE WAGERS WERE MADE, AND ADÈLE KILLED TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE
We had slept, risen and breakfasted: we had visited Tours Cathedral:
finally, we had mustered in the lounge of the hotel. It was when we
had there been insulting one another for nearly an hour, that Jonah
looked at his watch.
"We have now," he said, "wasted exactly forty-nine minutes in kicking
against the pricks. Short of a European war, you can't alter the
geography of France, and the laws of Mathematics take a lot of
upsetting. It's no good wishing that Bordeaux was Biarritz, or that
Pau was half the distance it is from Angoulême. If you don't want to
go right through, you must stay at Bordeaux. It's the only possible
place. If you don't want to stay at Bordeaux, you must go right
through. I don't care which we do, but I do want to see something of
Poitiers, and, if we don't get a move on, we shan't have time."
All the way from Boulogne France had made an excellent host. So far
she had never failed to offer us a good night's lodging, with History
as a bedfellow, at the end of a respectable run. Indeed, from the
point of view of they that go down to the South in cars, her famous
capitals could hardly have been more conveniently disposed. This very
evening, by lodging us at Angoulême, she was to repeat such hospitality
for the last time. Upon the morrow we should be faced with a choice of
making a dash for the villa which was awaiting our arrival at Pau, or
breaking the journey asunder--but by no means in half--by sleeping at
Bordeaux.
"I must confess," said Daphne, "that, for some reason or other,
Bordeaux doesn't attract me. Incidentally, I'm getting rather tired of
unpacking and packing up."
"So far," said her husband, "as the bestowal and disinterment of my
effects are concerned, I can confirm that statement. Indeed, if we had
another week on the road, you'd both be exhausted. You left my sponge
and bedroom-slippers at Boulogne, my dressing-gown at Rouen, and my
pyjamas at Chartres. I wish you'd tell me what you've left here. I'm
simply dying to know."
"No," said Daphne. "You must wait till Angoulême. I wouldn't spoil it
for anything."
"Jade," said her husband. "And now, stand back, please, everybody. I
want to do a little stock-taking." With that, from every pocket he
produced French notes of all denominations, in all stages of decay, and
heaped them upon the table. "Now, this one," he added, gingerly
extracting a filthy and dilapidated rag, "is a particularly interesting
specimen. Apparently, upon close inspection, merely a valuable
security, worth, to be exact, a shade under twopence-half-penny, it is
in reality a talisman. Whosoever touches it, cannot fail to contract
at least two contagious diseases within the week. In view of the
temperature of my coffee this morning, I'm saving it for the
head-waiter."
"When," said I, "do you expect to go down?"
"The pure in heart," said Berry, "are proof against its malignity.
Don't you come too near. And look at this sere and yellow leaf. Now,
that represents one franc. When I think that, upon offering that to a
bar-tender, I shall not only not be assaulted, but shall actually
receive a large bottle of beer and be lent a two-and-sixpenny glass
from which to imbibe the same, I feel the deepest reverence for the
French Government. No other authority in the world could possibly put
up such a bluff and get away with it."
"They are awful," said Jill, peering.
"They're perfectly beastly," said Berry, "and wholly ridiculous.
However, since they're also legal tender, I suppose I may as well try
and sort them out. What I really need is some rubber gloves and a
box-respirator. Hullo! Just catch that one, will you? He's seen that
dog over there.... You know, I'm not at all sure that they get enough
air in my pocket. I suppose we couldn't get a hutch for the more
advanced ones. I mean, I don't want to be cruel."
Again Jonah looked at his watch.
"We have now," he said, "wasted fifty-six minutes in----"
"Excuse me," said Berry, "but isn't this touching? Here's affectionate
Albert." With the words, he laid a two-franc note tenderly upon my
sleeve. "Now, I bet you don't get him off without tearing him."
Disgustedly I managed to detach Albert, who instantly adhered to my
fingers.
There was a shriek of laughter.
"Stick to him," said Berry. "I've lost the bet."
The injunction was unnecessary.
After Albert had clung once to Adèle's--happily, gloved--fingers and
twice to each of my hands, I trod upon him. Some of Albert was still
upon my boot that evening at Angoulême.
"For the last time," said Jonah, "I appeal to you all to let that
dog-eared mountebank rake over his muck-heap, and attend to me."
My brother-in-law addressed Adèle.
"It is," he said, "a discreditable but incontrovertible fact that
saints have always been reviled. I suppose it's jealousy." He turned
to his wife. "By the way, did you pack my _aureola_? I left it
hanging on the towel-rail."
"If," said Daphne, "you're referring to your body-belt, it's with your
bed-socks."
"And why not between your flannel vests?" said her husband. "The grey
ones we found at Margate, I mean. With the imitation bone buttons.
Ah, here we are. Now, if half a franc's no earthly, what'll who give
me for two-thirds of fifty centimes?"
Jonah sank into a chair and closed his eyes.
"Look here," said I desperately. "Once for all, are we going to stay
at Bordeaux, or are we going right through?"
"I think we'd all rather go right through," said Jill.
"I know I would," said her brother. "And if Boy's leg was all right, I
shouldn't hesitate. I'll answer for Ping. But, frankly, with Berry
driving, I doubt if Pong'll fetch up. I mean, two hundred and
twenty-two miles takes some biting off."
There was a pregnant silence. Then--
"He'll never do it," said Daphne.
Her husband, who was still busy with his paper, looked up defiantly.
Then he took a thousand-franc note and laid it apart from its fellows
upon the table.
"I will wager that shekel," he said deliberately, "that, with a start
of one hour to-morrow, Pong reaches Pau before Ping."
There was a gasp of astonishment.
"Done," said Jonah. "What's more, I'll bet you another you don't get
in before ten."
Berry raised his eyes to heaven.
"An insult," he said. "Never mind. Your dross shall wipe it out. I
take you."
"And I," said I, not to be outdone, "will put another on Pong for the
double."
I felt that my honour was involved. After all, if I had not trained
the mount, I was training the jockey.
"Right," said Jonah. "Will you both pay me now, or wait till you're
out of hospital?"
"I think," said I, "we'll have a run for our money."
The bets were made, and there was an end of it. But when we were again
in the car, and my brother-in-law was threading his way out of Tours, I
began to repent my rashness.
Considering that, when he took the wheel at Boulogne, Berry had had
only three lessons in the management of a car, he had done most
creditably. My brother-in-law was no fool. Moreover, on leaving
Rouen, he and I had joined forces. Sitting beside him in the coupé, I
had driven the car with his hands--after a little practice--with
astonishing results. In two days we had, we prided ourselves, raised
such collaboration from the ranks of the Mechanical to the society of
the Fine Arts. My part was comparatively easy. Sinking his initiative
he had more nearly converted himself into an intelligent piece of
mechanism than I would have believed possible. It would, of course, be
vain to suggest that Pong would not have gone faster if I had been able
to drive with my own hands, or Berry had had my experience. Still, we
had come very well, and with a start of a whole hour and a little
luck.... Another point in our favour was that Adèle, who with Nobby
completed our crew, had a pronounced gift for map-reading. She had an
eye to country. She seemed to be able to scent the line we ought to
take. The frequent treachery of signposts she laughed to scorn. Upon
the morrow her confident assistance would be invaluable....
What, when I made my bet, I had entirely forgotten, was that we were
not always upon the open road. There was the rub. From Angoulême to
Pau towns would have to be penetrated--among them Bordeaux itself--and
in the towns our system had broken down. In a crowded street, though I
could still administer, Berry could not execute. When I endeavoured to
allow for his inexperience of traffic, I found it impossible accurately
to gauge his capabilities. After a failure or two, it had been agreed
that he should negotiate such streets as we encountered without my
interference.... Of my haste to support Pong's honour, I had forgotten
the towns.
With years of practice behind us, Jonah and I could thrust through
traffic, happy enough with an odd inch to spare. Naturally enough,
Berry had no such confidence. An inch was of no use to him. He must
have a good ell, and more also, before he would enter a gap. In the
trough of a narrow street he laboured heavily.... There was no doubt
about it. The towns through which we should have to pass on Wednesday
would settle our chances. My money was as good as gone.
It seemed equally probable that Berry would save his stake. Barring
accidents of the grosser sort, if we started betimes, we were bound to
reach Pau before ten. Such a protasis robbed the bet of its savour.
With a thousand francs at stake, it would be foolish not to take
reasonable care. And the taking of reasonable care would all but
eliminate the element of uncertainty.... There was no getting away
from it. Of the two wagers, only the first was worth winning. To
reach Pau before Jonah would be a veritable triumph.
Moodily I communicated my reflections to Adèle.
"I thought it was rather rash at the time," she replied. "But I think
there's a sporting chance."
"That's right," said Berry. "Put your money on uncle. With enough
encouragement I can do anything."
"Permit me to encourage you to blow your horn," said I. "That child in
front of you is too young to die." My brother-in-law obeyed. "All the
same, I'm afraid we're for it. It isn't so much a question of pace,
pure and simple, for Jonah's a careful driver. But his street work is
beautiful."
Berry sighed.
"I suppose he'd pass between those two waggons," he said sarcastically.
"He would," said I.
"I don't think you quite see where I mean," said Berry, pointing. "I
mean along that temporary passage, which would admit a small
perambulator."
As he spoke, Ping brushed past us, slipped between the two wains, and
disappeared.
Berry stared after it in silence. At length--
"I withdraw," he said. "I'm not a conjurer. If everybody stood well
back I used to be able to produce an egg, broken or unbroken according
to the temperature of my hands, from a handkerchief about six feet
square. People were very nice about it, very nice. But an inability
to introduce a quart into a pint pot has always been among my failings.
Don't say I've got to turn to the left here, because I can't bear it."
"No," said Adèle, smiling. "Straight on."
"What--past the steam roller? How very touching! Excuse me,
messieurs, but would you mind suspending your somewhat boisterous
_travail_? My little car is frightened.... No answer. I suppose I
must pass it. Or shall we turn back? You know, I didn't really half
see the cathedral!"
"Go on," I said mercilessly. "Jam your foot on the accelerator and
shut your eyes. Oh, and you might hold Nobby a minute, will you? I
want to light a cigarette."
Adèle began to shake with laughter.
"With pleasure," said Berry acidly. "And then I'll help you on with
your coat. I may say that, if you touch me with that mammal, I shall
press and pull everything I can see and burst into tears. I'm all
strung up, I am."
There was not much room, and the roller was ponderously closing in, but
with a protruding tongue our luckless chauffeur crept slowly past the
monster in safety, and a moment later we were scudding up the Poitiers
road.
Now that we were clear of the town, we set to work diligently. Adèle
pored over the map and the Michelin Guide; Berry turned himself into a
mechanical doll; and I maintained a steady issue of orders until my
throat was sore.
The weather was fair and the going was good. Her new-born stiffness
beginning to wear off, Pong went better than ever. Berry excelled
himself.
With every kilometre we covered my spirits rose, and when we overtook
Jonah on the outskirts of Chatellerault, I could have flung up my cap.
The latter was clearly immensely surprised to see us, and when we
stopped, as was our custom, at a _charcuterie_ to buy our lunch, and
Ping had followed our example, leaned out of his window and asked me
pointedly whether my leg was yet stiff.
Concealing a smile, I regretted that it was.
Jonah fingered his chin.
"Of course," he said warily, "it's a condition precedent that you don't
drive to-morrow."
"Of course," I agreed.
The confession of uneasiness, however, did my heart good. It was plain
that my imperturbable cousin was getting nervous.
As we moved off again--
"We must lunch soon," said Berry. "My mouth's watering so fast, I
can't keep up with it."
I patted Adèle's arm.
"Now you know the way to his heart," I said. "Straight through the
stomach, and----"
"But how gross!" said Berry. "And how untrue! Naturally ascetic, but
for the insistence of my physicians, I should long ago have let my hair
grow and subsisted entirely on locusts and motionless lemonade. But a
harsh Fate ruled otherwise. Excuse me, but I think that that there
basket or ark in which the comfort is enshrined is rather near the
conduit through which flows that sparkling liquid which, when vapoured,
supplies our motive power. And _foie gras_ is notoriously susceptible
to the baneful influence of neighbouring perfumes. Thank you. If
those bits of heaven were to taste of petrol, it would shorten my life.
And now, where was I?"
I turned to Adèle.
"He's off," said I. "The prospect of gluttony always loosens his
tongue. There's really only one way to stop him. What about lunching
at the top of this hill? Or can you bear it till we've passed
Poitiers?"
A mischievous look came into Adèle's brown eyes.
"It's not half-past twelve yet," she said slowly. My brother-in-law
groaned. "Still ... I don't know.... After all, we did have
breakfast rather early, didn't we?"
Berry smacked his lips.
"A sensible woman," he said, "is above boobies."
As he spoke, Ping swept by stormily.
There was a moment's silence. Then--
"Hurray," cried Adèle excitedly; "we've got a rise!"
It was patently true. Jonah was wishful to reassure himself upon a
point which an hour ago he had taken for granted. The reflection that
at the moment we had not been trying to outdistance him increased our
delight. All the same, his ability to out-drive us was unquestionable.
But whether he could give us the start he had agreed to was another
matter.
We ate a festive lunch....
An hour with Poitiers is like a sip of old wine.
The absence of the stir and bustle which fret her sister capitals is
notable. So reverend and thoughtful is the old grey-muzzled town that
it is hard to recognise the bristling war-dog that bestrode the
toughest centuries, snarled in the face of Fate, and pulled down Time.
The old soldier has got him a cassock and become a gentle-faced
dominie. The sleepy music of bells calling, the pensive air of study,
the odour of simple piety, the sober confidence of great possessions,
are most impressive. Poitiers has beaten her swords into crosiers and
her spears into tuning-forks. Never was there an old age so ripe, so
mellow, so becoming. With this for evidence, you may look History in
the eyes and swear that you have seen Poitiers in the prime of her full
life. The dead will turn in their graves to hear you; children unborn
will say you knew no better. And Poitiers will take the threefold
compliment with a grave smile. She has heard it so often.
Celt, Roman, Visigoth, Moor, Englishman--all these have held Poitiers
in turn. Proud of their tenure, lest History should forget, three at
least of them have set up their boasts in stone. The place was, I
imagine, a favourite. Kings used her, certainly. Dread Harry
Plantagenet gave her a proud cathedral. Among her orchards Coeur de
Lion worshipped Jehane, jousted, sang of a summer evening, and spent
his happiest days. Beneath her shadow the Black Prince lighted such a
candle of Chivalry as has never yet been put out. Not without honour
of her own countrymen, for thirteen years the High Court of Parliament
preferred her to Paris. Within her walls the sainted Joan argued her
inspiration.
I have dived at random into her wallet, yet see what I have brought
forth. If memories are precious, Poitiers is uncommon rich.
As if to console us for our departure, the road to Sister Angoulême was
superb. Broad, straight, smooth as any floor, the great highway
stretched like a strip of marquetry inlaid upon the countryside. Its
invitation was irresistible....
We reached the windy town in time for a late tea.
As soon as this was over, Berry and I escaped and carried Pong off to a
garage, there to be oiled and greased against the morrow's race.
Somewhat to our amusement, before we had been there ten minutes, our
cousin arrived with Ping and the same object. Had the incident
occurred at Poitiers, I should have been encouraged as well. It was
another sign that Jonah did not despise his opponents, and his opinion
was worth having. As it was, the compliment left me unmoved....
The truth was, Berry had that afternoon contracted two habits. Again
and again on the way from Poitiers he had shown a marked tendency to
choke his engine, and five times he had failed to mesh the gears when
changing speed. Twice we had had to stop altogether and start again.
He had, of course, reproached himself violently, and I had made light
of the matter. But, for all the comfort I offered him, I was seriously
alarmed. In a word, his sudden lapse suggested that my brother-in-law
was entering that most unpleasant stage which must be traversed by all
who will become chauffeurs and are taught, so to speak, to run before
they can walk.
It was after we had dined, and when my wife and I were seated--myself,
by virtue of my injury, upon a couch, and she upon a cushion beside
me--before the comfort of a glowing log-fire, that Adèle laid down the
Guide and leaned her head against my knee.
"I'm glad I married you," she said.
I looked at Nobby.
"So are we both," said I.
"I wonder," said Adèle, "whether you are really, or whether you're just
being nice."
"Personally, I'm just being nice. Nobby is really. Of course, he may
be making the best of a bad job. As a worldly good of mine, I just
endowed you with him, and that was that."
"You were both very happy before--before I came."
"We thought we were."
"O-o-oh," said Adèle, twisting her head around, to see my face. "You
were. You know you were."
The gleeful accusation of the soft brown eyes was irresistible. To
gain time, I swallowed. Then--
"So were you," I said desperately.
"I know I was," was the disconcerting reply.
"Well, then, why shouldn't we----"
"But you said you weren't."
I called the Sealyham.
"Nobby," said I, "I'm being bullied. The woman we love is turning my
words against me."
For a moment the dog looked at us. Then he sat up and begged.
"And what," said Adèle, caressing him, "does that mean?"
"He's pleading my cause--obviously."
"I'm not so sure," said Adèle. "I wish he could talk."
"You're a wicked, suspicious girl. Here are two miserable males, all
pale and trembling for love of you--you've only got to smile to make
them rich--and you set your small pink heel upon their devotion. I
admit it's a soft heel--one of the very softest----"
"----I ever remember," flashed Adèle. "How very interesting! 'Heels I
have Held,' by Wild Oats. Were the others pink, too?"
Solemnly I regarded her.
"A little more," said I, "and I shan't teach her to drive."
Adèle tossed her head.
"Berry's going to do that," she said. "Directly we get to Pau."
I laughed savagely.
"I'm talking of automobiles," I said, "not golf balls."
"I know," said my wife. "And Berry's going to----"
"Well, he's not!" I shouted. "For one thing, he can't, and, for
another, it's my right, and I won't give it up. I've been looking
forward to it ever since I knew you. I've dreamed about it. You're
miles cleverer than I am, you're wise, you're quick-witted, you can
play, you can sing like a nightingale, you can take me on at tennis,
you can ride--driving a car's about the only thing I can teach you,
and----"
Adèle laid a smooth hand upon my mouth.
"Nobby and I," she said, "are very proud of you. They're not in the
same street with their master, they know, but they're awfully proud to
be his wife and dog."
To such preposterous generosity there was but one answer.
As I made it--
"May I teach you to drive, lady?"
A far-away look came into the soft brown eyes.
"If you don't," said Adèle, "nobody shall."
* * * * *
The day of the race dawned, clear and jubilant. By eight o'clock the
sun was high in a blue heaven, new-swept by a steady breeze. Limping
into the courtyard before breakfast, I rejoiced to notice that the air
was appreciably warmer than any I had breathed for a month.
We had hoped to leave Angoulême at nine o'clock. Actually it was a
quarter to ten before the luggage was finally strapped into place and
my brother-in-law climbed into the car. With a sigh for a bad
beginning, I reflected that if we could not cover the two-hundred and
twenty odd miles in twelve and a quarter hours, we ought to be shot.
Jonah stood by, watch in hand.
"Are you ready?" he said.
I nodded.
"Right," said my cousin. "I'm not sure we've picked the best route,
but it's too late now. No divergence allowed."
"I agree."
"And you don't drive."
"It's out of the question."
"Right. Like to double the bets?"
"No," said Adèle, "they wouldn't. I won't allow it. But I'll bet with
you. I can't afford much, but I'll bet you a hundred francs we're
there before you."
"I'll give you tens," said my cousin. "And I start in one hour from
_Now_!"
When I say that, upon the word being given, Pong, whose manners had
been hitherto above reproach, utterly refused to start or be started,
it will be seen that Fate was against us....
It took us exactly two minutes to locate the trouble--which was in the
magneto--and just over two hours to put it right.
As we slid out of Angoulême, an impatient clock announced that it was
mid-day.
At least the delay had done something. So far as the second wager was
concerned, it had altered the whole complexion of the case. We were no
longer betting upon anything approaching a certainty. Indeed, unless
we could break the back of the distance before daylight failed, our
chances of reaching Pau before ten were worth little. If the road to
Bordeaux were as fine as that from Poitiers, and Berry could find his
form, we should probably run to time. We could not afford, however, to
give a minute away.
As luck would have it, the state of the road was, on the whole, rather
worse than any we had used since we left Boulogne. Presumably
untouched for over six years, the wear and tear to which, as one of the
arteries springing from a great port, it had been subjected, had turned
a sleek highway into a shadow of itself. There was no flesh; the skin
was broken; the very bones were staring.
For the first half hour we told one another that we had struck a bad
patch. For the second we expressed nervous hopes that the going would
grow no worse. After that, Berry and I lost interest and suffered in
silence. Indeed, but for Adèle, I think we should have thrown up the
sponge and spent the night at Bordeaux.
My lady, however, kept us both going.
She had studied our route until she knew it by heart, and was just
burning to pilot us through Bordeaux and thence across Gascony.
"They're sure to make mistakes after Bordeaux. You know what the
sign-posts are like. And the road's really tricky. But I spent two
hours looking it up yesterday evening. I took you through Barbezieux
all right, didn't I?"
"Like a book, darling."
"Well, I can do that every time. And I daresay they'll have tire
trouble. Besides, the road's no worse for us than it is for them, and
after Bordeaux it'll probably be splendid. Of course we'll be there
before ten--we can't help it. I want to be there before Jonah. I've
got a hundred----"
"My dear," I expostulated, "I don't want to----"
"We've got a jolly good chance, any way. While you were getting her
right, I got the lunch, and we can eat that without stopping. You can
feed Berry. We'll gain half an hour like that."
Before such optimism I had not the face to point out that, if our
opponents had any sense at all, they had lunched before leaving
Angoulême.
"Here's a nice patch," added Adèle. "Put her along, you two."
Spurred by her enthusiasm, we bent again to the oars.
Contrary to my expectation, my brother-in-law, if unusually silent, was
driving well. But the road was against him. He had not sufficient
experience to be able to keep his foot steady upon the accelerator when
a high speed and a rude surface conspired to dislodge it--a shortcoming
which caused us all three much discomfort and lost a lot of mileage.
Then, again, I dared not let him drive too close to the side of the
road. Right at the edge the surface was well preserved, and I knew
that Jonah's off wheels would make good use of it. Such finesse,
however, was out of Berry's reach. We pelted along upon what remained
of the crown painfully.
Seventy-three miles separate Bordeaux from Angoulême, and at the end of
two hours fifty-four of them lay behind us. All things considered,
this was extremely good, and when Adèle suggested that we should eat
our lunch, I agreed quite cheerfully.
The suggestion, however, that I should feed Berry proved impracticable.
After four endeavours to introduce one end of a _petit pain_ into his
mouth--
"Would it be asking too much," said my brother-in-law, "if I suggested
that you should suspend this assault? I don't know what part of your
face you eat with, but I usually use my mouth. I admit it's a bit of a
rosebud, but that's no excuse for all these 'outers.' Yes, I know it's
a scream, but I was once told never to put _foie gras_ upon the nose or
cheeks. They say it draws the skin. Oh, and don't let's have any
comic nonsense about the beer," he added shortly. "Pour it straight
into my breast-pocket and have done with it. Then I can suck my
handkerchief."
As he spoke, Nobby leaned forward and took the dishevelled sandwich out
of my unready fingers.
"That's right," added Berry, with the laugh of a maniac. "Cast my
portion to the dogs." He dabbed his face with a handkerchief. "Never
mind. When his hour comes, you'll have to hold him out of the window.
I'm not going to stop every time he wants to be sick."
Eventually it was decided that, since we should have to stop for
petrol, Berry must seize that opportunity to devour some food.
"Besides," I concluded, "a rest of a quarter of an hour will do you
good."
As the words left my mouth, I noticed for the first time that my
brother-in-law was tiring.
For the moment I thought I was mistaken, for upon our previous runs he
had never turned a hair. Now, however, he seemed to be driving with an
effort. As if to confirm my suspicions, at the very next hill he
missed his change.
"I think," I said quickly, "you ought to have your lunch right away.
It's no good getting done in for want of food."
Berry shot me a pathetic glance.
"It isn't that, old chap. It's---- Hang it all, it's my shoulder!
That cursed muscular rheumatism cropped up again yesterday...."
The murder was out.
After a little he admitted that, ever since we had left Poitiers, any
quick movement of his left arm had caused him intense pain.
Of course both Adèle and I besought him to stop there and then and let
the race go to blazes. Of this he would not hear, declaring that, so
long as Jonah was behind, victory was not out of sight, and that
nothing short of paralysis would induce him to jilt the jade. After a
little argument, we let him have his way ...
The road continued to offer an abominable passage, and when we stopped
at a garage in Bordeaux, it was five minutes to three of a beautiful
afternoon.
The third bidon was discharging its contents into Pong's tank, and
Berry was sitting wearily upon the running-board, with his mouth full
and a glass of beer in his hand, when, with an apologetic cough, Ping
emerged from behind an approaching tram and slid past us over the
cobbles with a smooth rush. The off-side window was open, and, as the
car went by, Jonah waved to us.
There was no doubt about it, my cousin was out to win. It was also
transparently clear that Adèle and I, at any rate, had lost our money.
We could not compete with an average of thirty-six miles an hour.
"Boy!"
"Yes, darling?"
"Is that the last _bidon_?"
"Yes. But Berry won't have finished for at least ten minutes.
Besides----"
"Couldn't I drive for a bit, just till he's finished his lunch?"
I stared at my wife. Then--
"I don't see why you shouldn't, dear, except that the streets of
Bordeaux are rather rough on a beginner."
"I'll be very careful," pleaded Adèle, "and--and, after all, we shall
be moving. And it can't affect the bets. Nothing was said about Berry
having to drive."
I smiled ruefully.
"As far as the bets are concerned, we might as well stay here the
night. We've got a hundred and fifty miles in front of us, and seven
hours--five of them after dark--to do them in. Berry's shoulder has
put the lid on. We shan't get in before midnight."
"You never know," said Adèle.
Berry suspended the process of mastication to put his oar in.
"Let her drive," he said huskily. "One thing's certain. She can't do
any worse than I have."
"You never know," said Adèle.
A minute later she was in the driver's seat, and I had folded the rug
and placed it behind her back.
As Berry took his seat--
"That's right," I said. "Now let in the clutch gently.... Well done.
Change.... Good girl! Now, I shouldn't try to pass this lorry
until----"
"I think you would," said Adèle, changing into third, and darting in
front of the monster.
"Good Heavens!" I cried. Then: "Look out for that tram, lady. You'd
better..."
As the tram was left standing, I caught my brother-in-law by the arm.
"_She can drive!_" I said stupidly.
"Nonsense," said Berry, "I'm willing her."
"_You fool!_" I shouted, shaking him. "_I tell you she can drive!_"
We flashed between two waggons. "_Look at that! She's a first-class
driver, and she's going to save your stake!_"
"What's really worrying me," said Adèle, "is how we're to pass Jonah
without him seeing us."
There was an electric silence. Then--
"_For-rard!_" yelled Berry. "_For-r-a-r-d!_ Out of the way, fat face,
or we'll take the coat off your back." A portly Frenchman leaped into
safety with a scream. "That's the style. For-rard! Fill the fife,
dear heart, fill the blinkin' fife; there's a cyciclist on the horizon.
For-rard!"
To sound the horn would have been a work of supererogation. Maddened
by our vociferous exuberance, Nobby lifted up his voice and barked like
a demoniac. The ungodly hullaballoo with which we shook the dust of
Bordeaux from off our tires will be remembered fearfully by all who
witnessed our exit from that city.
When I had indulged my excitement, I left the terrier and Berry to
finish the latter's lunch and turned to my wife.
Sitting there, with her little hands about the wheel, she made a
bewitching picture. She had thrown her fur coat open, and the breeze
from the open window was playing greedily with the embroidery about her
throat. Her soft hair, too, was now at the wind's mercy, and but for a
little suede hat, which would have suited Rosalind, the dark strand
that lay flickering upon her cheek would have been one of many. Chin
in air, eyebrows raised, lids lowered, the faintest of smiles hovering
about her small red mouth, my lady leaned back with an indescribable
air of easy efficiency which was most attractive. Only the parted lips
at all betrayed her eagerness....
I felt very proud suddenly.
The road was vile, but Pong flew over it without a tremor. Looking
upon his driver, I found it difficult to appreciate that a small
silk-stockinged foot I could not see was setting and maintaining his
beautiful steady pace.
As I stared at her, marvelling, the smile deepened, and a little gloved
hand left the wheel and stole into mine.
I pulled the glove back and kissed the white wrist....
"And I was going to teach you," I said humbly.
"So was I," wailed Berry. "I'd arranged everything. I was going to be
so patient."
"I was looking forward to it so much," I said wistfully.
"Oh, and don't you think I was?" cried Adèle. "It was so dear of you,
lad. I was going to pretend----"
"It was much more dearer of me," said Berry. "But then, I'm like that.
Of course," he added, "you ought to have driven from Boulogne. Don't
tell me why you held your peace, because I know. And I think it was
just sweet of you, darling, and, but for your husband's presence, I
should kiss you by force."
The car fled on.
There was little traffic, but thrice we came upon cows and once upon a
large flock of sheep. We could only pray that Jonah had endured the
same trials.
As we slid through Langon, thirty miles distant from Bordeaux, I looked
at my watch. Two minutes to four. Adèle noticed the movement and
asked the time. When I told her, she frowned.
"Not good enough," she said simply.
The light was beginning to fail now, and I asked if she would have the
lamps lit.
She shook her head.
"Not yet, Boy."
At last the road was presenting a better surface. As we flashed up a
long incline, a glance at the speedometer showed me that we were doing
fifty. As I looked again, the needle swung slowly to fifty-five....
I began to peer into the distance for Jonah's dust.
With a low snarl we swooped into La Réole, whipped unhesitatingly to
right and left, coughed at cross-streets, and then swept out of the
town ere Berry had found its name in the Michelin Guide.
Again I asked my wife if she would have the headlights.
"Not yet, Boy."
"Shall I raise the wind screen?"
"Please."
Together Berry and I observed her wish, while with her own right hand
she closed the window. The rush of the cool air was more than
freshening, and I turned up her coat collar and fastened the heavy fur
about her throat.
The car tore on.
Lights began to appear--one by one, stabbing the dusk with their beams,
steady, conspicuous. One only, far in the distance, seemed
ill-defined--a faint smudge against the twilight. Then it went out
altogether.
"Jonah," said Adèle quietly.
She was right.
Within a minute we could see the smear again--more clearly. It was
Ping's tail-lamp.
I began to tremble with excitement. Beside me I could hear Berry
breathing fast through his nose.
Half a dozen times we lost the light, only to pick it up again a moment
later. Each time it was brighter than before. We were gaining
rapidly....
We could not have been more than a furlong behind, when the sudden
appearance of a cluster of bright pin-pricks immediately ahead showed
that we were approaching Marmande.
Instantly Ping's tail-light began to grow bigger. Jonah was slowing up
for the town. In a moment we should be in a position to pass....
In silence Berry and I clasped one another. Somewhere between us Nobby
began to pant.
As we entered Marmande, there were not thirty paces between the two
cars. And my unsuspecting cousin was going dead slow. A twitch of the
wheel, and we should leave him standing....
Then, without any warning, Adèle slowed up and fell in behind Ping.
I could have screamed to her to go by.
Deliberately she was throwing away the chance of a lifetime.
Desperately I laid my hand on her arm.
"Adèle!" I cried hoarsely. "My darling, aren't you----"
By way of answer, she gave a little crow of rejoicing and turned sharp
round to the right.
Jonah had passed straight on.
As Pong leaped forward, the scales fell from my eyes.
Adèle was for the side-streets. If she could only rejoin the main road
at a point ahead of Jonah, the latter would never know that we had
passed him. If...
I began to hope very much that my wife knew the plan of Marmande rather
better than I.
Through the dusk I could see that the street we were using ran on to a
bridge. It was there, I supposed, that we should turn to the left....
To my horror, Adèle thrust on to the bridge at an increased pace.
"A-aren't you going to turn?" I stammered. "I mean, we'll never----"
"I said the road was tricky," said Adèle, "but I hardly dared to hope
they'd make such a bad mistake." We sailed off the bridge and on to a
beautiful road. "Ah, this is more like it. I don't know where Jonah's
going, _but this is the way to Pau_.... And now I think it'll be safe
to have the lights on. You might look behind first to see if they're
coming. You see, if they'd seen us go by, the game would have been up.
As it is..."
* * * * *
At half-past seven that evening we drove into Pau.
Arrived at our villa, we put the car away and hurried indoors.
It was almost eight o'clock when Ping discharged his passengers upon
the front steps.
In silence and from the landing we watched them enter the hall.
When they were all inside, I released Nobby.
CHAPTER III
HOW A GOLDEN CALF WAS SET UP, AND NOBBY SHOWED HIMSELF A TRUE PROPHET
Five fat weeks had rolled by since Adèle had eased Jonah of sixty
pounds, and the Antoinette ring we had given her to commemorate the
feat was now for the first time in danger of suffering an eclipse. In
a word, a new star had arisen.
"I dreamed about it," said Daphne. "I knew I should."
I knitted my brows.
"I wish," said I, "I could share your enthusiasm."
"Ah, but you haven't seen it."
"I know, but I don't even want to. If you'd come back raving about a
piece of furniture or a jewel or a picture, I should have been
interested. But a shawl... A shawl leaves me cold."
"I agree," said Jonah. "I've learned to appear attentive to the
description of a frock. I keep a special indulgent smile for the
incoherence inspired by a hat. But when you pipe to me the praises of
a shawl--well, I'm unable to dance."
"Wait till you see it," said Adèle. "Besides, there were some lovely
rugs."
"That's better," said I. "I like a good rug."
"Well, these were glorious," said Jill. "They had the most lovely
sheen. But, of course, the shawl..."
"If anyone," said Jonah, "says that ugly word again, I shall scream."
It was half-past nine of a very beautiful morning, and we were
breakfasting.
The last two days had been wet. In the night, however, the clouds had
disappeared, leaving the great sky flawless, an atmosphere so rare as
tempted shy Distance to approach, and the mountains in all the powdered
glory of their maiden snow.
Seventy miles of magic--that is what Pau stares at. For the Pyrenees,
viewed from this royal box, are purely magical. They do not rise so
high--eleven thousand feet, as mountains go, is nothing wonderful.
There is no might nor majesty about them--distant some thirty odd
miles. They are just an exquisite wall, well and truly laid, and
carved with that careless cunning of the great Artificer into the
likeness of some screen in Heaven.
Where, then, is the magic? Listen. These mountains are never the
same. To-day they are very nigh; to-morrow they will stand farther
than you have ever seen them. On Monday they will lie a mere ridge
above the foot-hills; on Tuesday they will be towering, so that you
must lift up your eyes to find the summits. But yesterday you
marvelled at their stablishment; this morning they will be floating
above the world. One week the clear-cut beauty of their lines and
curves gladdens your heart; the next, a mocking mystery of soft blurred
battlements will tease your vision. Such shifting sorcery is never
stale. Light, shade, and atmosphere play such fantastic tricks with
Pau's fair heritage that the grey town, curled comfortably in the
sunshine upon her plateau's edge, looks not on one, but upon many
prospects. The pageant of the Pyrenees is never done.
As for the wedding garment which they had put on in the night--it made
us all late for breakfast.
The door opened to admit Berry.
The look of resignation upon his face and the silence in which he took
his seat where highly eloquent.
There was no need to ask what was the matter. We knew. Big with the
knowledge, we waited upon the edge of laughter.
As he received his coffee--
"I'm not going on like this," he said shortly. "It's insanitary."
Adèle's lips twitched, and Jill put a hand to her mouth.
"I can't think how it is," said Daphne. "Mine was all right."
"Of course it was," retorted her husband. "So was Adèle's. So was
Jill's. By the time you three nymphs are through, there's no hot water
left."
"That," said I, "is where the geyser comes in. The agent was at some
pains to point out that it was an auxiliary."
"Was he, indeed?" said Berry. "Well, if he'd been at some pains to
point out that it leaked, stank, became white-hot, and was generally
about the finest labour-wasting device ever invented, he'd 've been
nearer the mark. If he'd added that it wasn't a geyser at all, but a
cross between a magic lantern and a money-box----"
"Knack," said Jonah. "That's all it needs. You haven't got the hang
of it yet."
The savagery with which my brother-in-law attacked a roll was almost
frightening.
"W-why money-box?" said Jill tremulously.
"Because," said Berry, "it has to be bribed to devil you. Until you've
put ten centimes in the metre, you don't get any gas. It's a pretty
idea."
Adèle began to shake with laughter.
"You must have done something wrong," said I.
Berry shrugged his shoulders.
"Provided," he said, "that you are fairly active and physically fit,
you can't go wrong. But it's a strain on one's sanity.... No, I don't
think I'll have any omelet. They're so impatient."
I decided to apply the spur.
"But the agent showed us exactly----"
"Look here," said Berry, "you enter that bathroom, clothed--after a
fashion--and in your right mind. Then you leave it for some matches.
On your return you turn on the gas. After wasting four matches, you
laugh pleasantly, put on your dressing-gown again, and go about the
house asking everyone for a ten-centime piece... This you place in the
slot. Then you go out again and try to remember where you put the
matches. By the time you're back, the whole room is full of gas, so
you open the window wide and clean your teeth to fill up the time.
Long before it's safe you strike another match. The thing lights with
an explosion that shortens your life.... In about two minutes it emits
a roaring sound and begins to shake all over. By now all the taps are
red-hot, and, by the time you've burnt yourself to hell, you're
wondering whether, if you start at once, you'll have time to leave the
house before the thing bursts. Finally, you knock the gas off with the
cork mat....
"After a decent interval you start again. This time you turn on the
water first. Stone cold, of course. When you've used enough gas to
roast an ox, you hope like anything and reduce the flow." He paused to
pass a hand wearily across his eyes. "Have you ever seen Vesuvius in
eruption?" he added. "I admit no rocks were discharged--at least, I
didn't see any. There may be some in the bath. I didn't wait to
look.... Blinded by the steam, deafened by the noise, you make a rush
for the door. This seems to have been moved. You feel all over the
walls, like a madman. In the frenzy of despair--it's astonishing how
one clings to life--you hurl yourself at the bath and turn on both
taps.... As if by magic the steam disappears, the roaring subsides,
and two broad streams of pure cold water issue, like crystal founts,
into the bath. Now you know why I'm so jolly this morning."
With tears running down her cheeks--
"You must have a bath in the dressing-room," wailed Daphne. "The
others do."
"I won't," said Berry. "It faces North."
"Then you must have it at night."
"Not to-night," I interposed. "Nobby's bagged it."
With the laugh of a maniac, my brother-in-law requested that the facts
should be laid before the Sealyham, and the latter desired to waive his
rights.
"Of course," he concluded, "if you want me to become verminous, just
say so."
There was a shriek of laughter.
"And now be quick," said Daphne, "or we shall be late for the meet.
And I particularly want to see Sally."
Sarah Featherstone was the possessor of the coveted shawl.
We had met her by chance upon the boulevard two days before. No one of
us had had any idea that she was not in Ireland, whither she had
retired upon her marriage, and where her passion for hunting kept her
most of the year, and when we learned that she had already spent six
months in the Pyrenees, and would be at Pau all the winter, we could
hardly believe our ears. Her little son, it appeared, had been ailing,
and the air of the Pyrenees was to make him well. So their summer had
been passed in the mountains, and, with three good hunters from
Ireland, the winter was to be supported under the shadow of the healing
hills.
"It hurts me to think of Ireland, but I'm getting to love this place.
I want the rain on my face sometimes, and the earth doesn't smell so
sweet; but the sun's a godsend--I've never seen it before--and the air
makes me want to shout. Oh, I've got a lot to be thankful for.
Peter's put on a stone and a half to date, George'll be out for
Christmas, and, now that you've come to stay..."
We were all glad of Sarah--till yesterday.
Now, however, she had set up a golden calf, which our womenkind were
worshipping out of all reason and convenience.
At the mention of the false prophet's name, Jonah and I pushed back our
chairs.
"Don't leave me," said Berry, "I know what's coming. I had it last
night until I fell asleep. Then that harpy"--he nodded at
Daphne--"dared to rouse me out of a most refreshing slumber to ask me
whether I thought 'the Chinese did both sides at once or one after the
other.' With my mind running on baths, I said they probably began on
their feet and washed upwards. By the time the misunderstanding had
been cleared up, I was thoroughly awake and remained in a hideous and
agonising condition of sleepless lassitude for the space of one hour.
The tea came sharp at half-past seven, and the shawl rolled up twenty
seconds later. I tell you I'm sick of the blasted comforter."
A squall of indignation succeeded this blasphemy.
When order had been restored--
"Any way," said Jill, "Sally says the sailor who sold it her 'll be
back with some more things next month, and she's going to send him
here. He only comes twice a year, and----"
"Isn't it curious," said Jonah, "how a sailor never dies at sea?"
"Most strange," said Berry. "The best way will be to ask him to stay
here. Then he can have a bath in the morning, and we can bury him
behind the garage."
* * * * *
With that confident accuracy which waits upon a player only when it is
uncourted, Jill cracked her ball across the six yards of turf and into
the hole.
"Look at that," said Adèle.
Jonah raised his eyes to heaven.
"And the game," he said, "means nothing to her. It never has. Years
ago she and I got into the final at Hunstanton. She put me dead on the
green at the thirteenth, and I holed out. When I turned round to say
we were three up, she wasn't there. Eventually I found her looking for
her iron. She'd laid it down, to start on a daisy chain."
"I only put it down for a second," protested Jill, "and you must admit
the daisies were simply huge."
"What happened?" said Adèle, bubbling.
"The daisy chain won us the match. She was much more interested in the
former, and actually continued its fabrication between her shots."
We passed to the next tee.
As I was addressing the ball--
"Don't top it," said Jill.
"Have I been topping them to-day?".
"No, Boy. Only do be careful. I believe there's a lark's nest down
there, and it'd be a shame----"
"There you are," said Jonah.
"Now," said I, "I'm dead certain to top it."
"Well, then, drive more to the right," said Jill. "After all, it's
only a game."
"I'll take your word for it," said I.
Of course, I topped the ball, but at the next hole my grey-eyed cousin
discovered that our caddie had a puppy in his pocket, so we won easily.
As we made for the club-house--
"Only ten days to Christmas," said Adèle. "Can you believe me?"
"With an effort," said I. "It's almost too hot to be true."
Indeed, it might have been a June morning.
The valley was sleepy beneath the mid-day sun; the slopes of the
sheltering foot-hills looked warm and comfortable; naked but unashamed,
the woods were smiling; southward, a long flash spoke of the sunlit
peaks and the dead march of snow; and there, a league away, grey Pau
was basking contentedly, her decent crinoline of villas billowing about
her sides, lazily looking down on such a fuss and pother as might have
bubbled out of the pot of Revolution, but was, in fact, the hospitable
rite daily observed on the arrival of the Paris train.
"I simply must get some presents," continued my wife. "We'll start
to-morrow."
I groaned.
"You can't get anything here," I protested. "And people don't expect
presents when you're in the South of France."
"That's just when they do," said Adèle. "All your friends consider
that it's a chance in a lifetime, and, if you don't take it, they never
forgive you."
"Well, I haven't got any friends," said I. "So that's that. And you
used to tell me you had very few."
"Ah," said Adèle, "that was before we were engaged. That was to excite
your sympathy."
I appealed to my cousins for support.
"Nothing doing," said Jonah. "If you didn't want this sort of thing,
what did you marry for? For longer than I can remember you've seen
your brother-in-law led off like an ox to the shambles--he's there
now--financially crippled, and then compelled to tie up and address
innumerable parcels, for the simple reason that, when they're at the
shops Daphne's faculty of allotment invariably refuses to function."
Jill slid an arm through her brother's, patted his hand affectionately,
and looked at Adèle.
"If Boy breaks down," she said sweetly, "I'll lend you my ox. He's
simply splendid at parcels."
"You've got to find something to do up first," said I. "This isn't
Paris."
A colour was lent to my foreboding within the hour.
As we sat down to luncheon--
"Yes," said Berry, "my vixen and I have spent a delightful morning.
We've been through fourteen shops and bought two amethyst necklets and
a pot of marmalade. I subsequently dropped the latter in the Place
Royale, so we're actually twelve down."
"Whereabouts in the Place Royale?" I inquired.
"Just outside the Club. Everybody I knew was either going in or coming
out, so it went very well indeed."
There was a gust of laughter.
"N-not on the pavement?" whimpered Jill.
"On the pavement," said Daphne. "It was dreadful. I never was so
ashamed. Of course I begged him to pick it up before it ran out.
D'you think he'd do it? Not he. Said it was written, and it was no
good fighting against Fate, and that he'd rather wash his hands of it
than after it, and that sort of stuff. Then Nobby began to lick it
up.... But for Fitch, I think we should have been arrested.
Mercifully, we'd told him to wait for us by the bandstand, and he saw
the whole thing."
"It's all very fine," said her husband. "It was I who furnished and
suggested the use of the current issue of _Le Temps_, and, without
that, Fitch couldn't have moved. As it was, one sheet made a shroud,
another a pall, and Nobby's beard and paws were appropriately wiped
upon the ever-burning scandal of 'Reparations.'"
"I gather," said Jonah, "that the dissolution of the preserve turned an
indifferent success into a howling failure. Of course, I haven't seen
the necklets but..."
"I can't pretend it's easy," said Daphne. "It isn't that there aren't
any shops----"
"No," said Berry emphatically, "it isn't that."
"--but somehow... Still, if we go on long enough, we shall find
something."
"That's it," said her husband. "We're going to put our backs into it
this afternoon. After we've done another twelve shops without buying
anything, we're going to have police protection. Not that we need it,
you know, but it'll improve my morale."
"If only Sally was here," said Jill, "she could have told us where to
go."
"If only her sailor would turn up," said Adèle, "we might be able to
get all our presents from him."
"That's an idea," said Jonah. "What was the merchant's name?"
Amid a buzz of excitement, Daphne sent for the letter which had
announced Sarah Featherstone's departure from Pau. When it arrived,
she read the material portion aloud.
"_... George, can't get away, so Peter and I are going home for
Christmas. We'll be back the first week in January. I've told the
Marats that if Planchet (the sailor who sold me the shawl, etc.) turns
up before I get back, he's to be sent on to you. If he's got anything
extra-special that you're not keen on, you might get it for me..._"
"Well, I never thought I should live to say it," said Berry, "but,
after what I've gone through this morning, if Planchet were to totter
in this afternoon, laden with at once cheap and pretentious goods, I
should fall upon his bull neck."
"Who," said I, "are the Marats?"
"They're the married couple who run the flat. I believe they're
wonderful. Sally says she never knew what service was before."
"I do hope," said Jill, twittering, "they don't make any mistake."
"I've no fear of that," said Adèle. "I can't answer for the man,
because we didn't see him, but Madame Marat's no fool."
"Incidentally," said I, "it's one thing giving Planchet our address,
but it's quite another persuading him to fetch up. He may have other
sheep to shear."
"We can only pray that he hasn't," said Daphne. "It's too much to
expect him to have another shawl, but I should like the first pick of
what he has."
Berry regarded his wife.
"If," he said, "you will swear to select from his wares all the
blinkin' presents with which you propose to signalise this Yuletide,
I'll--I'll tie them all up without a word."
"Same here," said I. "Our gifts will cost us more, but we shall live
the longer."
"Ditto," said Jonah.
The girls agreed cheerfully, and, before luncheon was over, it had been
decided to give Planchet three days in which to make his appearance,
and that, if he had not arrived by that time, then and then only should
we resort to the shops.
Less than an hour had elapsed, and we were just about to make ready to
take the air by the simple expedient of proceeding at a high speed in
the direction of Biarritz, when Falcon entered the room.
"There's an individual, madam, 'as come to the door----"
"Planchet? Is it Planchet?"
"I'm afraid I can 'ardly say, madam, but 'e 'as this address upon a
piece of note-paper, madam, and----"
"All right, Falcon, I'll come."
The butler's valiant endeavours to cope with the heritage of Babel were
better known to us than he imagined. More than once his efforts to
extract from strangers that information which was his due, and at the
same time, like a juggler of many parts, to keep the balls of Dignity
and Courtesy rolling, had been overheard, and had afforded us
gratification so pronounced as to necessitate the employment of
cushions and other improvised gags if our faithful servant's feelings
were to come to no harm.
"I'll go," said Jill and Adèle simultaneously.
We all went, and we were all just in time to see our visitor precede
the Sealyham in the direction of the lodge.
Aghast at such ill-timed pleasantry, we erupted pellmell into the
drive, all frantic by word or deed to distract the terrier from his
purpose. Shrieks, curses, and a copy of _La Fontaine's Fables_ were
hurled simultaneously and in vain at our favourite, and it was Berry,
to whom the fear of further acquaintance with the emporiums of Pau must
have lent wings, who actually overtook and discomfited the pursuer some
three yards from the road.
It was with feelings of inexpressible relief that we presently beheld
the three returning--Berry alternately rebuking the Sealyham, who was
under his arm, and apologising to his guest, the latter wide-eyed,
something out of breath, and anything but easy, and Nobby apparently
torn between an aggressively affectionate regard for his captor and a
still furiously expressed suspicion of the stranger within our gates.
As the trio drew nigh--
"It is Monsieur Planchet," called Berry. "He's brought some things for
us to see. His man's behind with a barrow."
With beating hearts we trooped back into the house....
As I returned from thrusting Nobby into a bedroom, Monsieur Planchet's
hireling staggered into the hall, a gigantic basket-trunk poised
precariously upon his hunched shoulders.
The inspection was held in the drawing-room.
It was rather late in the day to assume that nonchalant air which has,
from time immemorial, adorned the armouries of all accomplished
hucksters.
Our instant recognition of the salesman, our energetic solicitude for
his safety, and our obvious anxiety to dissociate ourselves from the
policy of direct action adopted by the terrier, had not only betrayed,
but emphasised, the fact that the sailor's arrival was very much to our
taste. Clearly, if we did not wish to pay through the nose for what we
purchased, our only course was to feign disappointment when the wares
were produced.
For what it was worth I circulated a covert recommendation of this
wile, which was acknowledged with sundry nods and inaudible
assurances--the latter, so far as Jill was concerned, too readily given
to inspire me with confidence.
Sure enough, when the lid of the trunk was lifted, and Planchet plucked
forth a truly exquisite rug and flung it dexterously across a chair, my
grey-eyed cousin let out a gasp which an infant in arms could not have
misinterpreted.
There was only one thing to be done, and Daphne did it.
With a heroic disregard for her reputation, she shook her head.
"Too bright," she said shortly. "Don't you think so?" she added,
turning to Berry.
The latter swallowed before replying.
"It's positively gaudy," he said gloomily.
Planchet shrugged his shoulders and began to unfasten a bale....
By the time seven more Persian rugs--all old and all more than
ordinarily pleasing in design and colouring--were sprawling about the
chamber, any organised depreciation was out of the question. Where all
were so beautiful, it required a larger output of moral courage than
any one of us could essay to decry the whole pack. By way of doing his
or her bit, everybody decided to praise one or two to the implied
condemnation of the remainder. In the absence of collusion, it was
inevitable that those rugs which somebody had thus branded as goats
should invariably include somebody else's sheep. The result was that
every single rug had its following. A glance at their owner, who was
standing aside, making no offer to commend his carpets, but fingering
his chin and watching us narrowly with quick-moving eyes, showed that
he was solely engaged in considering how much he dared ask.
I moved across to him.
"You only come here twice a year?" I inquired.
"That is so, _Monsieur_."
"And how do you get these things? By barter?"
"Yes, _Monsieur_."
After a little encouragement, he explained that before each voyage he
laid in a stock of knives, gramophones, mirrors, trinkets, and the
like, these to exchange with the natives in the bazaars of the smaller
Eastern ports at which his ship touched. From Bordeaux he used to set
out, and to Bordeaux he as regularly returned. An aunt dwelling at Pau
was responsible for his selection of the town as a market for his
goods. I should not have taken him for a sailor, and said as much.
With a shy smile, he confessed that he was a steward, adding that he
was a landsman at heart, and that, but for the opportunities of trading
which his occupation presented he should go to sea no more.
Suddenly--
"What else have you got?" said Daphne.
Six panels of Chinese embroidery--all powder-blue and gold, 'laborious
Orient ivories,' a gorgeous hanging that had been the coat of a proud
mandarin, three Chinese mats, aged and flawless, a set of silken
doilies--each one displaying a miniature landscape limned with a
subtlety that baffled every eye--one by one these treasures were laid
before us.
Even Jonah went down before the ivories.
Ere the trunk was empty, we had, one and all, dropped our masks and
were revelling openly.
"Now, isn't that beautiful?" "Sally's got a ball like that, but it
isn't so big." "It's just as well she's in Ireland, or we shouldn't
have had those mats." "You know, that rug on the chair's a devilish
fine one." "They all are." "Yes, but that--my dear fellow, it's the
sort of rug they put in the window and refuse to sell, because it's
such an advertisement." "I'll tell you what, if we had those panels
made into curtains, they'd look simply priceless in the drawing-room."
"Give me the ivories."
It was Adèle who pulled the check-string.
"What's the price of this rug?" she said quietly.
There was an expectant and guilty hush.
With a careless flourish we had called the tune--clamoured for it....
If the piper's fee was exorbitant, we had only ourselves to thank.
Planchet hesitated. Then--
"Five hundred francs, _Madame_."
Ten pounds.
You could have heard a pin drop.
The rug was worth sixty. In Regent Street or Fifth Avenue we should
have been asked a hundred. If this was typical of Planchet's prices,
no wonder Sally had plunged....
I took out a pencil and picked up a pad of notepaper.
"And the other rugs?" I inquired.
"The same price, _Monsieur_."
The rugs went down.
Slowly, and without a shadow of argument, the prices of the other
valuables were asked, received, and entered.
With a shaking hand I counted up the figures--eight thousand six
hundred francs.
I passed the paper to Berry.
"Will you pay him?" I said. "I haven't got enough at the bank here,
and you can't expect him to take a foreign cheque."
"Right oh!"
"He may not want to part with them all at one house," said Daphne.
"You'd better ask him."
Adèle smiled very charmingly.
"We like your pretty things very much," she said. "May we have what
you've shown us?"
Planchet inclined his head.
"As _Madame_ pleases."
I crossed to where he was standing and went through my list,
identifying each article as I came to it, and making him confirm the
price. When we had finished, I insisted upon him checking my figures.
He did so with some show of reluctance. The total, seemingly, was good
enough.
When the reckoning was over, I hesitated.
Then--
"You know," I said slowly, "we'd have to pay much more than this in the
shops."
It seemed only fair.
Planchet spread out his hands.
"_Monsieur_ is very kind: but for me, I should not obtain more from the
merchants. I know them. They are robbers. I prefer infinitely to
deal with you."
"All right. You don't mind a cheque?"
"A cheque, _Monsieur_?"
"Yes, on the bank here. We haven't so much money in the house."
The little man hesitated. Nervously the big brown eyes turned from me
to fall upon his possessions....
"That's all right," said Berry. "The bank's still open. Fitch can run
up in the car and get the money. He's probably had a dud cheque some
time or other. Anyway, considering he knows nothing of us, and Sally's
out of reach, I don't blame him."
Such a way out of the difficulty was unanimously approved, and when I
communicated our intention to Planchet, the latter seemed greatly
relieved. It was not, he explained volubly, that he did not trust us,
but when a poor sailor produced such a cheque to a bank....
As Berry left to give the chauffeur his instructions--
"Last time you came," said Daphne, "you brought a beautiful shawl.
Mrs. Featherstone bought it."
Planchet frowned thoughtfully. Then his face lighted with recollection.
"Perfectly, _Madame_. I remember it. It was very fine. I have
another like it at home."
My sister caught her breath.
"For sale?"
"If _Madame pleases_." Adèle and Jill clasped one another. "I will
bring it to-morrow."
With an obvious effort Daphne controlled her excitement.
"I--we should like to have a look at it," she said.
Planchet inclined his head.
"To-morrow morning, _Madame_."
Without more ado he packed up his traps, announced that, as he was
returning on the morrow, there was now no occasion for him to wait for
his money, and, thanking us profusely for our patronage and assuring us
that he was ever at our service, summoned his employee and withdrew
humbly enough.
It was fully a quarter of an hour before the first wave of our pent-up
enthusiasm had spent itself. After a positive debauch of
self-congratulation, amicable bickering with regard to the precise
order of precedence in which an antiquary would place our acquisitions,
and breathless speculation concerning their true worth, we sank into
sitting postures about the room and smiled affectionately upon one
another.
"And now," said Berry, "what about tying them up?"
"What for?" said Jill.
"Well, you can't send them through the post as they are."
"You don't imagine," said Daphne, in the horrified tone of one who
repeats a blasphemy, "you don't imagine that we're going to give these
things away?"
Berry looked round wildly.
"D'you mean to say you're going to keep them?" he cried.
"Of course we are," said his wife.
"What, all of them?"
My sister nodded.
"Every single one," she said.
With an unearthly shriek, Berry lay back in his chair and drummed with
his heels upon the floor.
"I can't bear it!" he roared. "I can't bear it! I won't. It's
insufferable. I've parted with the savings of a lifetime for a whole
roomful of luxuries, not one of which, in the ordinary way, we should
have dreamed of purchasing, not one of which we require, to not one of
which, had you seen it in a shop, you would have given a second
thought, all of which are probably spurious----"
"Shame!" cried Jill.
"----only to be told that I've still got to prosecute the mutually
revolting acquaintance with infuriated shopkeepers forced upon me this
morning. It's cruelty to animals, and I shall write to the Y.M.C.A.
Besides, it's more blessed----"
"I can't help it," said Daphne. "The man had absolutely nothing that
would have done for anybody. If----"
"One second," said her husband. "I haven't parsed that sentence yet.
And what d'you mean by 'done for'? Because----"
"If," Daphne continued doggedly, "we sent one of those rugs to someone
for Christmas, they'd think we'd gone mad."
Berry sighed.
"I'm not sure we haven't," he said. "Any way--" he nodded at Jonah and
myself--"I'll trouble each of you gents for a cheque for sixty pounds.
As it is, I shall have to give up paying my tailor again, and what with
Lent coming on..." Wearily he rose to his feet. "And now I'm going to
have a good healthy cry. Globules the size of pigeons' eggs will well
from my orbs."
"I know," said Jill. "These things can be our Christmas presents to
one another."
Berry laughed hysterically.
"What a charming idea!" he said brokenly. "And how generous! I shall
always treasure it. Every time I look at my pass-book..."
Overcome with emotion he stepped out of the room.
A muffled bark reminded me that Nobby was still imprisoned, and I rose
to follow my brother-in-law.
As I was closing the door, I heard my wife's voice.
"You know, I'm simply pining to see that shawl."
* * * * *
At ten o'clock the next morning the most beautiful piece of embroidery
I have ever seen passed into our possession in return for the
ridiculously inadequate sum of two thousand francs.
Obviously very old, the pale yellow silk of which the shawl was made
was literally strewn with blossoms, each tender one of them a work of
art. All the matchless cunning, all the unspeakable patience, all the
inscrutable spirit of China blinked and smiled at you out of those
wonderful flowers. There never was such a show. Daring walked
delicately. Daintiness was become bold. Those that wrought the
marvel--for so magnificent an artifice was never the work of one
man--were painters born--painters whose paints were threads of silk,
whose brushes, needles. Year after year they had toiled upon these
twenty-five square feet of faded silk, and always perfectly. The thing
was a miracle--the blazing achievement of a reachless ideal.
Upon both lovely sides the work was identical: the knotted
fringe--itself bewildering evidence of faultless labour--was three feet
deep, and while the whole shawl could have been passed through a
bracelet, it scaled the remarkable weight of nearly six pounds.
Daphne, Adèle, and Jill with one voice declared that it was finer than
Sally's. As for Berry, Jonah, and myself, we humbly withdrew such
adverse criticism as we had levelled at the latter, and derived an
almost childish glee from the possession of its fellow.
It was, indeed, our joy over this latest requisition that stiffened
into resolution an uneasy feeling that we ought to give Sally a slice
of our luck.
After considerable discussion we decided to make her a present of the
three Chinese mats. She had bought three of Planchet upon his last
visit, and those we had just purchased would bring her set up to six.
Lest we should repent our impulse, we did them up there and then and
sent them off by Fitch the same afternoon.
* * * * *
Christmas was over and gone.
In the three days immediately preceding the festival, such popularity
with the tradesmen of the town as we had forfeited was more than
redeemed at the expense, so far as I was concerned, of an overdraft at
the bank. Absurdly handsome presents were purchased right and left.
Adèle's acquaintance was extremely wide. Observing that it was also in
every instance domiciled in the United States, with the density of a
male I ventured to point out that upon the day which my wife's presents
were intended to enrich, all of them would indubitably be lying in the
custody of the French postal authorities. Thereupon it was gently
explained to me that, so long as a parcel had been obviously posted
before Christmas, its contents were always considered to have arrived
"in time"--a conceit which I had hitherto imagined to be the property
of bookmakers alone. In short, from first to last, my wife was
inexorable. But for the spectacle of Berry and Jonah being
relentlessly driven along the same track, life would have lost its
savour. Indeed, as far as we three were concerned, most of the working
hours of Christmas Eve were spent at the post office.
The registration of a postal packet in France is no laughing matter.
When a coloured form has to be obtained, completed, and deliberately
scrutinised before a parcel can be accepted, when there is only one
pen, where there are twenty-seven people in front of you--each with two
or more packages to be registered--when there is only one registration
clerk, when mental arithmetic is not that clerk's _forte_, when it is
the local custom invariably to question the accuracy first of the
postage demanded and then of the change received, when the atmosphere
of the post office is germane to poison-gas, and when, you are bearing
twelve parcels and leading a Sealyham, the act of registration and its
preliminaries are conducive to heart-failure.
The miniature of herself, however, with which my wife presented me on
Christmas Day atoned for everything....
And now--Christmas was over and gone.
The New Year, too, had come in with a truly French explosion of
merriment and good-will.
It was, in fact, the fourth day of January, and, with the exception of
my cousins, who were upon the links, we were proceeding gingerly down
the Rue du Lycée, en route for Lourdes, when my sister gave a cry and
called upon me to stop.
As I did so, I saw Mrs. Featherstone stepping towards us across the
open space which fronts the market.
Berry climbed out of the dickey, and Adèle and Daphne got out of the
car.
As I followed them--
"Sally, my dear," said Daphne, "I never knew you were back."
"I wasn't, till this morning," panted Sally. "I only arrived at eight.
For the last three hours I've been----"
"Before you tell us anything," said Daphne, "we want to thank you.
Since you've been away, Planchet's been. He's sold us the most lovely
things I've ever seen. We're so grateful to you, we don't know what to
do."
"Well, for goodness' sake," rejoined Sally, "insure them to-day. I've
just been cleaned out of everything I've got."
"Cleaned out?" cried Daphne. "D'you mean to say you've been robbed?"
"That's right," said Sally. "Peter and I got back this morning to find
the Marats gone and the place stripped. Of course, the furniture
belonging to the flat's there, but the only decent things were what I'd
added, and those have vanished."
"Not all the things you got from Planchet?"
"Rather," said Sally. "Shawl and everything. Jolly, isn't it?"
"What an awful shame!" cried Adèle. "But who's taken them? Not the
Marats?"
"Must be," said Mrs. Featherstone. She nodded over her shoulder.
"I've just been to the police about it, but you know how hopeless they
are."
"If I can do anything," said Berry, "you know I'd only be too happy..."
"Thanks awfully," was the reply, "but to tell you the truth, I don't
see what there is to be done. As far as I can make out, they left
before Christmas, so they've got a pretty good start."
"I'm terribly sorry," said I. "Of course I never saw the goods, but,
if they were anything like the things we bought, it's a cruel shame."
Mrs. Featherstone laughed.
"I do feel sore," she admitted. "The maddening part of it is, I meant
to take the shawl home to show George, and then, in the rush at the
last, I left it out." She turned to my sister. "And you know I
trusted that couple implicitly."
"I know you did."
"The queer thing is, they seem to have suffered one solitary pang of
remorse. Did I show you those Chinese mats I was so crazy about?
Well, after they'd gone, I suppose, their hearts smote them, because
they did the three up and sent them back."
For a moment we looked at one another.
Then--
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Sally," said Daphne gently, "but you
mustn't give the brutes that credit. We sent you the mats as a
Christmas present." Sally knitted her brows. "They're not yours. We
bought them from Planchet. Directly I saw them, I thought how
beautifully they'd match yours, and we wanted you to have a set."
Sally stared at her.
"But I could have sworn-----"
"I know," said Daphne. "It was because they were such a wonderful
match that we----"
"What else did he sell you?"
A sudden thought came to me, and I turned to catch Berry by the arm....
As men in a film, he and I looked at one another with open mouths....
Sublimely unconscious. Daphne and Adèle were reciting the list of our
treasures.
Mrs. Featherstone heard them out solemnly. Then--
"And what," she said, "does Planchet look like?"
It became Daphne's turn to stare.
I moistened my lips.
"Slight, dark, clean-shaven, large brown eyes, nervous manner, scar on
the left temple--_or am I describing Marat?_"
Sally spread out her hands.
"To the life," she said simply.
There was a dreadful silence.
At length--
"'Sold,'" I said slowly. "'By order of the trustees. Owner going
abroad.' Marat was with you when you bought them, of course? But what
a smart bit of work!"
Sally covered her face and began to shake with laughter. Daphne and
Adèle stared at her as if bewitched.
At his third attempt to speak--
"Well, that's topping," said Berry. "And now will you come back and
get your things now, or shall we bring them over to-morrow? We've
taken every care of them." He sighed. "When I think," he added,
"that, but for my good offices, Nobby would have sent that treacherous
drawlatch away, not only empty, but with the modern equivalent of a
flea in his ear, I could writhe. When I reflect that it was I who
supported the swine's predilection for hard cash, I could scream. But
when I remember that ever since our purchase of the shawl, my wife has
never once stopped enumerating and/or indicating the many superiorities
which distinguish it from yours, I want to break something." He looked
round savagely. "Where's a grocer's?" he demanded. "I want some
marmalade."
CHAPTER IV
HOW BERRY MADE AN ENGAGEMENT, JILL A PICTURE, AND ADÈLE A SLIP OF SOME
IMPORTANCE
A natural result of our traffic with Planchet was that we became
temporarily suspicious and careful to a fault. The horse had been
stolen. For the next three weeks we locked not only the stable door,
but every single door to which a key could be fitted--and suffered
accordingly. In a word, our convenience writhed. To complete our
discomfort, if ever one of us jibbed, the others were sure to lay the
lash about his shoulders. The beginning of the end arrived one fine
February day.
An early breakfast had made us ready for lunch. As we were taking our
seats--
"Are the cars locked?" said Daphne.
Adèle held up a key.
"Pong is," she said.
My sister fumed to Jonah.
"And Ping?"
My cousin shook his head.
"No," he said shortly. "I omitted the precaution. If this was Paris,
instead of Pau, if the cars were standing in an undesirable
thoroughfare, instead of in the courtyard of the English Club, if----"
"It's all very well," said Daphne, "but you know what happened to the
Rolls."
Berry frowned.
"Any reference," he said, "to that distressing incident is bad for my
heart." He turned to Jonah. "As for you, you've lodged your protest,
which will receive the deepest consideration. I shall dwell upon it
during the soup. And now push off and lock the vehicle. I know Love
laughs at locksmiths, but the average motor-thief's sense of humour is
less susceptible."
When his sister threw her entreaties into the scale, my cousin took the
line of least resistance and rose to his feet.
"For converting a qualified blessing into an unqualified curse," he
said bitterly, "you three alarmists take the complete cracknel. Since
the locks were fitted, I've done nothing but turn the key from morning
till night. Before the beastly things were thought of, the idea of
larceny never entered your heads."
The indignation with which his words were received would have been more
pronounced if we had had the room to ourselves. As it was, Jonah made
his way to the door amid an enraged murmur of expostulation, whose
temper was aggravated by suppression almost to bursting-point.
There was much to be said for both points of view.
It was a fact that since the theft of the Rolls we had never felt easy
about leaving a car unattended. Yet, though we had often discussed the
matter, nothing had been done. Now, however, that we were in a strange
country, where the tracing of a stolen car would, for a variety of
reasons, be an extremely difficult undertaking, and staying withal only
a handful of miles from the Spanish frontier, we all felt that action
of some sort must be taken without delay.
An attempt to enlist the services of the Sealyham as a custodian had
failed ignominiously. In the first place, unless fastened, he had
flatly declined to stay with either of the cars. The expedient of
closing one of these altogether and leaving Nobby within had proved
quite as unsatisfactory and more humiliating. Had we been able to
eradicate from the dog's mind the conviction that he was being
wrongfully imprisoned, the result might have been different. As it
was, after barking furiously for five minutes, he had recourse to
reprisal and, hardly waiting to remove the paper in which it was
wrapped, devoured half a kilogramme of ripe Brie with a revengeful
voracity to which the condition of the interior of the car bore hideous
witness. Finally, when the urchin who was in our confidence, and had
engaged for the sum of five francs to endeavour to enter the car,
opened its door, the captive leaped out joyously and, after capering
with delight at his delivery, wiped his mouth enthusiastically upon a
tire and started on a reconnaissance of the neighbourhood in the hope
of encountering his gaolers. As for the car, our employee might have
driven it into the blue....
In the end, it was decided that a lock attached to the steering-column
would offer the best security. Accordingly, a device was sent for,
fitted to each of the cars, and proved. So far as we could see, there
was no fault in it. Once the key was withdrawn, the car concerned was
useless. It could be driven, certainly, but it could not be steered.
Indeed, short of getting it upon a trolley or taking 'the steering'
down, its asportation could not be compassed.
New brooms sweep clean.
Delighted with the realisation that theft could now be erased from the
list of terrors of motoring, the girls insisted upon the observance of
the new rite upon every possible occasion. As drivers of long
standing, Jonah and I found this eagerness hard to indulge. Use holds,
and, try as we would, it was absurdly difficult to remember to do as we
had never done before, whenever we evacuated a car. Often enough, as
now, it was a work of supererogation.
Berry turned to me.
"I observe," he said, "that for once you have not advanced your
opinion. Is this because you realise that it's valueless? Or won't
your mouth work?"
"Jonah was right," said I. "Insurance has its advantages, but you
don't register every letter you post. The truth is, what little sense
of proportion you have is failing. Of course you're not as young as
you were, and then, again, you eat too much."
"In other words," said my brother-in-law, "you attribute caution to the
advance of old age and gluttony. I see. To which of your physical
infirmities do you ascribe a superabundance of treachery and bile?"
"That," said I, "is due to external influence. The sewer-gas of your
temperament----"
"I refuse," said Berry, "to sit still and hear my soul compared to a
drain at the very outset of what promises to be a toothsome repast. It
might affect my appetite."
I raised my eyebrows.
"Needless anxiety again," I sighed. "I don't know what's the matter
with you to-day."
"By the way," said Daphne, "I quite forgot. Did you cash your cheque?"
"I did," said her husband.
"What did they give you?" said Jill.
"Fifty-three francs to the pound."
"Fifty-_three_?" cried Daphne and Adèle in horror-stricken tones.
"Fifty-three francs dead. If I'd cashed it yesterday, as, but for your
entreaties, I should have done, I should have got fifty-six."
"But when you found it was down, why didn't you wait?"
"In the first place," retorted my brother-in-law, "it isn't down; it's
up. In the second place, I was down--to four francs twenty-five. In
the third place, to-morrow it may be up to fifty."
"It's much more likely to go back to fifty-five."
"My dear girl," said Berry, "with the question of likelihood the
movements of the comic Exchange have nothing to do. It's a law unto
itself. Compared with the Money Market of to-day, Monte Carlo's a
Sunday-school. I admit we'd have more of a show if we didn't get the
paper a day late.... Still, that makes it more sporting."
"I don't see any sport in losing six hundred francs," said his wife.
"It's throwing away money." Here my cousin reappeared. "Jonah, why
did you let him do it?"
"Do what?" said Jonah.
"Cash such a cheque when the franc's dropped."
"It hasn't," said Jonah. "It's risen."
"How," piped Jill, "can it have risen when it's gone down?"
"It hasn't gone down," said I.
"But fifty-three's less than fifty-six."
"Let me explain," said Berry, taking an olive from a dish. "You see
that salt-cellar?"
"Yes," said Jill, staring.
"Well, that represents a dollar. The olive is a franc, and this here
roll is a pound." He cleared his throat. "When the imports exceed the
exports, the roll rises"--up went his hand--"as good bread should. But
when the exports exceed the imports, or the President backs a winner,
or something, then the olive begins to soar. In a word, the higher the
fewer."
Jill passed a hand across her sweet pretty brow.
"But what's the salt-cellar got to do with it?"
"Nothing whatever," said Berry. "That was to distract your attention."
Jill choked with indignation.
"I'll never ask you anything again," she said severely. "After all, if
you can't help yourself, it isn't likely you can help me. And, any
way, I wouldn't have been so silly as to go and cash a cheque when the
franc had gone down."
"Up," said I relentlessly.
"But how can it----"
"Look here," said I. "Imagine that all the francs in the world have
turned into herrings."
"What a joy shopping would be!" said Berry.
"Yes," said Jill faithfully.
"Well, on Monday you go and buy a pound's worth of herrings. Fish is
plentiful, so you get fifty-six."
"Yes."
"During the night herrings rise."
"Get quite high," said Berry. "You have to get out of bed and put your
purse on the landing."
Adèle began to shake with laughter.
"Yes," said Jill earnestly.
"So that the next morning," I continued desperately, "when you come to
buy another pound's worth of herrings, you only get fifty-three."
"That's right," said Berry. "And while you're trying to decide whether
to have one or two pounds, they turn into bananas. Then you _are_
done."
Jonah took up the cudgels.
"It's perfectly simple," he said. "Think of a thermometer."
Jill took a deep breath.
Then--
"Yes," she said.
"Well, on Monday you find it's fifty-six. On Tuesday you look at it
again, and find it's fifty-three. That means it's gone down, doesn't
it?"
"Yes," said his sister hopefully.
"Well, with the franc it's just the opposite. It means it's gone up."
"Yes."
"That's all," said Jonah brutally.
Jill looked from him to Daphne and from Daphne to Adèle--dazedly. The
former put a hand to her head.
"My dear," she said, "I can't help you. Before they started
explaining, I had a rough idea of how the thing worked. Now I'm
confused for ever. If they are to be believed, in future we've got to
say 'up' when we feel inclined to say 'down.' But don't ask me why."
She stopped to speak with a member who was leaving the room and had
come to pay his respects. After a word or two--
"Visitors' weather," he said. "Perfect, isn't it? But, I say, what a
fall in the franc! Three points in a day.... Never mind. It'll go up
again."
He made his adieus and passed on.
It was no good saying anything.
A prophet is not without honour, save in his own country.
* * * * *
It was three days later that we were bowling along the road to Biarritz.
The morning was full and good to look upon. Sun, sky, and air offered
the best they had. To match their gifts, a green and silver earth
strained at the leash of Winter with an eager heart. The valleys
smiled, high places lifted up their heads, the hasty Gave de Pau
swirled on its shining way, a laughing sash of snow-broth, and all the
countryside glowed with the cheerful aspect of a well-treated slave.
Wide, straight, and level, the well-built road thrust through the
beaming landscape with a directness that took Distance by the throat.
The surface improving as we left Pau behind, I drew on the seven-league
boots--surreptitiously. Very soon we were flying.... With a steady
purr of contentment, Pong, tuned to a hair, swallowed the flashing
miles so easily that pace was robbed of its sting.
A dot on the soft bullock-walk that edged the road grew with fantastic
swiftness into an ox-waggon, loomed for an instant life-size, and was
gone. A speck ahead leapt into the shape of a high-wheeled gig, jogged
for a moment to meet us, and vanished into space. A dolls'-house by
the wayside swelled into a villa ... a château ... a memory of tall
thin windows ranged in a white wall. The future swooped into the
present, only to be flicked into the past. The seven-league boots were
getting into their stride.
Then came a level-crossing with the barriers drawn....
For a minute the lady responsible for the obstructions seemed uncertain
whether to withdraw them or no. After a long look up the line,
however, she decided against us and shook her head with a benevolent
smile.
"_Le train arrive_," she explained.
With a sigh, I stopped the engine and lighted a cigarette....
"What exactly," said Daphne, "did Evelyn say?"
"That," said Berry, "as I have already endeavoured to point out, will
always remain a matter for conjecture. We addressed one another for
more than twenty minutes, but our possession of the line was disputed
effectively during the whole of that period."
"Well, what did you hear her say?"
"I heard her say 'Yes' twice, and 'Delighted,' and 'One o'clock.' I'm
almost certain that towards the end of our communion she said, 'Oh,
hell!' Having regard to the prevailing conditions, she may be
forgiven."
Daphne sighed.
"Well, I suppose she expects us," she said. "After all, that's the
main thing. You made her understand it was to-day, didn't you?"
"That," was the reply, "remains to be seen. If I didn't, it's not my
fault. It's no good pretending that 'Wednesday's' a good word to
shout, but I made the most of it. I also said 'Woden's Day' with great
clarity, and '_Mardi_.'"
"_Mardi?_" shrieked his wife.
"Oh, much louder than that."
"B-but that's _Tuesday_!"
Berry started guiltily.
"I--I mean '_Mercredi_,'" he said hurriedly.
I began to shake with merriment.
Suspiciously my sister regarded her husband.
"Which did you say?" she demanded.
"'_Mercredi_.'"
"I don't believe a word of it," cried Daphne. "You said '_Mardi_.'
You know you did."
Here a seemingly interminable freight-train started to lumber across
our path....
As the rumble began to die--
"I think," said I, "he must have got 'Wednesday' through. Otherwise
Evelyn would have rung up last night."
Berry drew a case from his pocket and offered me a cigar. Then he
turned to my sister and protruded his tongue....
We had known Evelyn Fairie for years. It was natural that we should
wish to know Evelyn Swetecote. That wedlock could have diminished her
charm was not to be thought of. But we were forgivably curious to see
her in the married state and to make the acquaintance of the man whom
she had chosen out of so many suitors. Little knowing that we were at
Pau, Evelyn had written to us from Biarritz. In due season her letter
had arrived, coming by way of Hampshire. An answer in the shape of a
general invitation to lunch had brought not so much a refusal as a
definite counter-proposal that we should suggest a day and come to
Biarritz. In reply, the services of the telephone had been
requisitioned, and, if my brother-in-law was to be believed, Mrs.
Swetecote had been advised to expect us on Wednesday.
In any event, expected or unexpected, here were we, all six, upon the
road--my wife and cousins in one car, and Daphne, Berry, and I within
the other.
As we swung into the paved streets of Orthez--
"And when," said Berry, "when am I to drive?"
"From Peyrehorade," I replied.
"Oh. I suppose that's where the stones begin, or the road stops, or
something."
I shook my head.
"Not that I know of. And you can drive all the way back. But--well,
there's a hill or two coming, and--and I'd like just to take her so
far," I concluded lamely.
But for my sister's presence, I would have told him the truth. This
was that I had bet Jonah that I could get from Orthez to Peyrehorade in
twenty minutes. The distance was exactly thirty kilometres, and the
road was perfect. There were no corners, and the bends were few.
There were hills, certainly; but these were straightforward enough and
could be taken, so to speak, in our stride. Moreover, there were no
cross-roads, and only two turnings worth thinking about. To some cars
the feat would have been nothing. Whether it was within the reach of
Ping and Pong remained to be seen....
As we left Orthez, I looked at my watch.
Ten minutes to eleven.
I laid hold of the wheel....
To this hour I cannot tell why Daphne did not exercise the prerogative
of a passenger and protest against the pace. But neither at the time
or thereafter did she so much as mention it. Berry confessed later
that he had been frightened to death.
Three kilometres out, there was a bend, and the needle of the
speedometer, which, after rising steadily, had come to rest against the
stop, retreated momentarily to record fifty-five.... We sang past a
wayside farm, dropped into a valley, soared up the opposite side,
flashed in and out of an apparently deserted village, shot up a long
incline, and slowed up for a curve.... Then some poultry demanded
consideration. As we left them behind, the agitation of two led horses
necessitated a still further reduction of speed. We lost such time as
I had made, and more also. Still, we were going downhill, and, as if
impatient of the check, the car sprang forward.... We rose from the
bottom with the smooth rush of a non-stop elevator. As we breasted the
rise, I saw another and steeper dale before us. The road was becoming
a switchback....
At the top of the opposite hill was a big grey cabriolet coming towards
us. At the foot was a panting lorry going our way. An approaching
Ford was about to pass it. The cabriolet and Pong fell down their
respective slopes....
The Ford was abreast of the lorry, and the cabriolet was prepared to
pass the two when we arrived. It was a question of giving way--at
least, it ought to have been. It was, however, too late. Happily,
there was more room than time at our disposal--a very little more.
There was no time at all....
For one never-to-be-forgotten instant there were four vehicles in a
row. I doubt if an ordinary matchbox could have been passed between
our near-side running-board and that of the cabriolet. I could
certainly have touched the lorry, had I put out my hand....
Then we swept on and up and over the crest.
Thereafter all was plain sailing.
As we ran into Peyrehorade, I glanced at my watch.
I had lost my bet by about a quarter of a minute. But for the led
horses, we should have run to time....
Upon one matter we were all agreed, and that was that the driver of the
grey cabriolet was going much too fast.
So soon as we had passed through the town, Berry and I changed places.
Almost immediately the road deteriorated. Its fine straightforward
rolling nature was maintained: the surface, however, was in tatters....
After ten kilometres of misery, my brother-in-law slowed up and
stopped. Then he turned to me.
"Have you ever driven upon this road (sic) before?"
I shook my head.
"Well, you can start now," was the reply. "I'm fed up, I am. I'd
rather drive on the beach." With that he opened his door. "Oh, and
give me back that cigar."
"Courage," I said, detaining him. "It can't last."
"Pardon me," said Berry, "but it can last for blistering leagues. I
know these roads. Besides, my right knee's getting tremulous."
"It's quite good practice," I ventured.
"What for?" was the bitter reply. "My future estate? Possibly. I
have no doubt that there it will be my blithesome duty continually to
back a charabanc with a fierce clutch up an interminable equivalent of
the Eiffel Tower. At present----"
"And you were driving so beautifully," said his wife.
"What--not with _finesse_?" said her husband.
"Rather," said I. "Ginger, too."
"What d'you mean--'ginger'?"--suspiciously.
"Determination," said I hurriedly.
"Not the b-b-bull-dog b-b-breed?"
"The same," said I. "All underhung.
'Shove-me-and-I'll-shove-your-face' sort of air. It was most
noticeable."
Berry slammed the door and felt for the self-starter....
As we bucketed down the next slope--
"I only wish," he said, "that we could encounter the deceitful monger
responsible for including this road among _les grands itinéraires_. I
can stand pot-holes, but the remains of a railway platform which might
have been brought from one of what we know as 'the stricken areas,'
laid, like linoleum, upon a foot of brickdust, tend to make you gird at
Life. Incidentally, is this fast enough for you? Or are your livers
still sluggish?"
"I think," said I, nodding at a huge pantechnicon, "that we might pass
the furniture."
I know no horn whose note is at once so compelling and offensive as
that of the usher with which Pong was equipped. I know no din at once
so obliterative and brain-shaking as that induced by the passage of a
French pantechnicon, towed at a high speed over an abominable road.
That the driver of the tractor failed to hear our demand was not
remarkable. That he should have elected to sway uncertainly along the
very crown of the road was most exasperating....
Three times did Berry essay to push by; three times at the critical
moment did the tractor lurch drunkenly across our bows; and three times
did Pong fall back discomfited. The dust, the reek, the vibration, the
pandemonium, were combining to create an atmosphere worthy of a place
in the Litany. One's senses were cuffed and buffeted almost to a
standstill. I remember vaguely that Daphne was clinging to my arm,
wailing that "it was no good." I know I was shouting. Berry was
howling abusive incoherence in execrable French....
We were approaching the top of a hill..
Suddenly the tractor swung away to its right. With a yell of triumph,
my unwitting brother-in-law thrust at the gap.... Pong leapt forward.
Mercifully there was a lane on the left, and I seized the wheel and
wrenched it round, at the same time opening the throttle as wide as I
dared. I fancy we took the corner on two wheels. As we did so, a pale
blue racer streaked by our tail-lamp with the roar of an avalanche.
When Daphne announced that, if she reached Biarritz alive, she should
drive home with Jonah, I was hardly surprised.
It was perhaps an hour later that, after passing grey-headed Bayonne,
we came to her smart little sister and the villa we sought.
The great lodge-gates were open, but Ping was without in the road,
while Jonah was leaning languidly against the wall. As we slowed up,
he took his pipe from his mouth.
"I shouldn't drive in," he said. "They're out. Won't be back before
six, the servants say."
* * * * *
Black as was the evidence against him, my brother-in-law stoutly
refused to be held responsible for the affair. All the way to the
Hotel du Palais he declared violently that the engagement had been well
and truly made, and that if Evelyn and her husband chose to forget all
about it, that was no fault of his. Finally, when Jonah suggested that
after luncheon we should return to the villa and inquire whether we had
indeed been expected the day before, he assented with disconcerting
alacrity. As we passed into the restaurant--
"And I'll do the interrogating," he concluded. "I don't want any of
your leading questions. 'I quite expect we were expected yesterday,
weren't we?' All sweet and slimy, with a five-franc note in the middle
distance."
"How dare you?" said Daphne. "Besides, I'd be only too relieved to
find it was their mistake."
"Blow your relief," replied her husband. "What about my bleeding
heart?"
"I'm not much of a physician," said I, "but there's some cold stuffed
venison on the sideboard. I don't know whether that, judiciously
administered...."
Berry shook his head.
"I doubt it," he said mournfully. "I doubt it very much....
Still"--he looked round hungrily--"we can always try."
We were at the villa again within the hour.
Almost immediately we elicited the information that Major and Mrs.
Swetecote had spent the previous day at San Sebastian.
Turning a withering and glassy eye in our direction, my brother-in-law
explained the position and desired permission to enter and write a
note. This was granted forthwith.
My sister and I followed him into a pleasant salon meekly enough. When
he had written his letter, he read it to us with the air of a cardinal.
_DEAR EVELYN,_
"LEST WE FORGET."
_Yes, I know. But you should be more careful. Old friends like us,
too. Disgraceful, I call it. To have been unprepared to receive us
would have been bad enough, but to be actually absent from home....
Well, as Wordsworth says, that's bent it._
_When I tell you that, in the belief that she was to enjoy a free
lunch, my beloved yoke-fellow, who is just now very hot upon economy,
forewent her breakfast and arrived upon your threshold faint and
ravening, you will conceive the emotion with which she hailed the
realization that that same hunger which she had encouraged could only
be appeased at an expensive hotel._
_But that is nothing._
_To bless your married life, I have hustled a valuable internal
combustion engine over one of the vilest roads in Europe, twice risked
a life, the loss of which would, as you know, lower half the flags in
Bethnal Green, and postponed many urgent and far more deserving calls
upon my electric personality. I was, for instance, to have had my hair
cut._
_Worse._
_Upon hearing of your absence, the unnatural infidel above referred to
charged this to my account. As is my humble wont, I bent my head to
the storm, strong in the fearless confidence that France is France, and
that, late as we were, the ever-open bar would not be closed._
"Tell me more of yourself," I hear you say.
_That may not be, che-ild._
_For one thing, that venison has made me sleepy. Secondly, I am just
off to find a suitable and sheltered grove, within sound of the
Atlantic, where I may spend an hour in meditation. Thirdly, I live for
others._
_Jonah wants to know if your husband can play golf. He does, of
course. But can he?_
_Your dear old friend,
BERRY._
_P.S.--D'you happen to know who owns a large grey cabriolet with a
"G.B." plate? I imagine it lives at Biarritz. Anyway, they ought to
be prosecuted. Driving about the country like a drunken hornet.
Mercifully we were crawling. Otherwise ... I tell you, it made my
b-b-blood b-b-boil. Not at the time, of course._
* * * * *
The pine woods were wholly delightful.
The lisp of the wind among the branches, the faint thunder of the
Atlantic, the soft sweet atmosphere showed us a side of Biarritz which
we should have been sorry to miss. By rights, if music and perfume
have any power, we should have fallen asleep. The air, however,
prevented us. Here was an inspiriting lullaby--a sleeping-draught
laced with cordial. We plucked the fruit from off the Tree of
Drowsiness, ate it, and felt refreshed. Repose went by the board. We
left the cars upon the road and went strolling....
"D'you think you could get me that spray?" said Jill suddenly.
In my cousin's eyes flora have only to be inaccessible to become
desirable. Remembering this, I did as Berry and Jonah were
doing--stared straight ahead and hoped very hard that she was not
speaking to me.
"Boy!"
"Yes, dear?"
"D'you think you could...?"
By the time I had torn my trousers, strained my right shoulder, sworn
three times, and ruined the appearance of my favourite brogues, the
others were out of sight.
"Thanks awfully, Boy. You are good to me. And that'll look lovely in
the drawing-room. The worst of it is, this stuff wilts almost at once."
"Seems almost a shame to have picked it," I said grimly, "doesn't it?"
"It does really," Jill agreed. "Never mind," she added cheerfully,
slipping an arm through mine. "It was my fault."
Subduing a desire to lie down on my back and scream, I relighted my
pipe, and we strolled forward.
A country walk with Jill is never dull.
To do the thing comfortably, you should be followed by a file of
pioneers in marching order, a limbered waggon, and a portable pond.
Before we had covered another two hundred yards, I had collected three
more sprays, two ferns, and a square foot of moss--the latter, much to
the irritation of its inhabitants, many of whom refused to evacuate
their homes and therefore accompanied us. I drew the line at frogs, on
the score of cruelty to animals, but when we met one about the size of
a postage stamp, it was a very near thing. Finally, against my advice,
my cousin stormed a bank, caught her foot in an invisible wire, and
fell flat upon her face.
"There now!" I cried testily, dropping our spoils and scrambling to her
assistance.
"I'm not a bit hurt," she cried, getting upon her feet. "Not a scrap.
And--and don't be angry with me, Boy. Jonah's been cross all day. He
says my skirt is too short. And it isn't, is it?"
"Not when you don't fall down," said I. "At least--well, it is rather,
isn't it?"
Jill put her feet together and drew the cloth close about her silk
stockings. It fell, perhaps, one inch below her knees. For a moment
she regarded the result. Then she looked up at me and put her head on
one side....
I have grown up with Jill. I have seen her in habits, in ball-dresses,
in dressing-gowns. I have seen her hair up, and I have seen it tumbled
about her shoulders. I have seen her grave, and I have seen her gay.
I have seen her on horseback, and I have seen her asleep. But never in
all my life shall I forget the picture which at this moment she made.
One thick golden tress, shaken loose by her fall, lay curling down past
the bloom of her cheek on to her shoulder. The lights in it blazed.
From beneath the brim of her small tight-fitting hat her great grave
eyes held mine expectantly. The stars in them seemed upon the edge of
dancing. Her heightened colour, the poise of her shapely head, the
parted lips lent to that exquisite face the air of an elf. All the
sweet grace of a child was welling out of her maidenhood. Her
apple-green frock fitted the form of a shepherdess. Her pretty grey
legs and tiny feet were those of a fairy. Its very artlessness trebled
the attraction of her pose. Making his sudden way between the boughs,
the sun flung a warm bar of light athwart her white throat and the
fallen curl. Nature was honouring her darling. It was the accolade.
I could have sworn that behind me somebody breathed "Madonna!" but
although I swung round and peered into the bushes, I could see no one.
"When you've quite done," said Jill. Clearly she had noticed nothing.
I returned to my cousin.
"Yes," I said, "it's too short. Just a shade. As for you, you're much
too sweet altogether. Something'll have to be done about it. You'll
be stolen by fairies, or translated, or inveigled into an engagement,
or something."
Jill let her dress go and flung her arms round my neck.
"You and Berry and Jonah," she said, "are far too sweet to me. And----
Oh, I can see myself in your eye, Boy. I can really." For a moment
she stared at the reflection. "I don't think I look very nice," she
added gravely. "However..." She kissed me abstractedly and started to
fix the tress errant. "If Jonah asks you, don't say it's too short.
It's not good for him. I'll have it lengthened all right."
For the second time I began to relight my pipe...
After examining the scene of her downfall, the witch caught at a slip
of a bough and swung herself athletically to the top of the bank.
Thence she turned a glowing face in my direction.
"No, I shan't, after all," she announced. "It's much too convenient."
Twenty minutes later we reached the point from which we had set out.
Adèle was awaiting us with Ping.
As soon as we saw her--
"Good Heavens!" cried Jill. "I quite forgot you were married. You
ought to have been with Adèle." She ran to the car. "Adèle darling,
what do you think of me?"
"I am blind," said Adèle, "with jealousy. Anyone would be. And now
jump in. Berry has taken the others to look at La Barre, and we're to
follow them."
Such of the landscape as I was bearing was thereupon bestowed in the
boot, I followed my cousin into the car, and a few minutes later we
were at the mouth of the Adour. Here we left Ping beside Pong, and
proceeded to join three figures on the horizon, apparently absorbed in
the temper of a fretful sea.
As we tramped heavily over the shingle--
"You're not cross with me, Adèle?"
"Why should I be, darling?"
"Well, you see," panted Jill, "I've known him so long, and he's still
so exactly the same, that I can't always remember----"
"That he's not your property?" said my wife. "But he is, and always
will be."
Jill looked at her gravely.
"But he's yours," she said.
Adèle laughed lightly.
"Subjects marry, of course," she said, smiling, "but they've only one
queen."
Which, I think, was uncommon handsome.
Any way, I kissed her slight fingers....
As we reached our companions--
"I could stay here for ever," said Berry. "Easily. But I'm not going
to. The wind annoys me, and the sea's not what it was before the War."
"How can you?" said Daphne. She stretched out a pointing arm. "Just
look at that one--that great big fellow. It must be the ninth wave."
"Nothing to the York Ham--I mean the Welsh Harp--on a dirty night,"
replied her husband. "Why, I remember once ..."
In the confusion of a precipitate retreat before the menace of the
roller, the reminiscence was lost.
It was certainly a magnificent spectacle.
There was a heavy sea running, and the everlasting battle between the
river and the Atlantic was being fought with long swift spasms of
unearthly fury. Continually recurring, shock, mellay and rally
overlapped, attack and repulse were inextricably mingled, the very
lulls between the paroxysms were big with wrath. There was a point,
too, where the river's bank became coastline, a blunt corner of land,
which seemed to exasperate the sea out of all reason. A stiff breeze
abetting them, the gigantic waves crashed upon it with a concussion
that shook the air. All the royal rage of Ocean seemed to be
concentrated on this little prominence. The latter's indifference
appeared to aggravate its assailant. Majesty was in a tantrum.
With the exception of Berry, we could have watched the display till, as
they say, the cows come home. My brother-in-law, however, felt
differently. The wind was offending him.
After a violent denunciation of this element--
"Besides," he added, "we ought to be getting back. It's nearly
half-past three, and if we're to avoid the playground of the Tanks and
return by Bidache, we shall be longer upon the road."
"Well, you go on," said Daphne. "Ask Adèle nicely, first, if she'll
take my place, and then if she minds starting now."
"Fair lady," he said,
"_The vay ith long, the vind ith cold,
It maketh me feel infernal old._"
"I'm sorry," said Adèle hurriedly, "but I've left my purse at home.
Try my husband."
Berry put on his hat, cocked it, and turned to me.
"D'you want a thick ear?" he demanded. "Or will you go quietly?"
"A little more," I retorted, "and you ride in the dickey."
Ten minutes later Pong was sailing into the outskirts of Bayonne.
To emerge from the town upon the Briscous road proved unexpectedly
hard. The map insisted that we should essay a dark entry, by the side
of which a forbidding notice-board dared us to come on.... Adèle and I
pored over the print, while out of our bickering Berry plucked such
instructions as his fancy suggested, and, alternately advancing and
retiring, cruised to and fro about a gaunt church. After a while we
began to ask people, listen carefully to their advice, thank them
effusively, and then demonstrate to one another that they were
certainly ignorant and probably hostile.
At length--
"How many times," inquired Berry, "did they walk round Jericho before
the walls went?"
"Thirteen, I think," said Adèle. "Why?"
"Oh, nothing," was the reply. "Only, if you aren't quick, we shall
have this church down. Besides, I'm getting giddy."
"Then show some initiative," I retorted.
"Right," said Berry, darting up a side-street.
Calling upon him to stop, Adèle and I fought for the map.... A sudden
lurch to the left flung us into the corner, whence, before we had
recovered our equilibrium, a violent swerve to the right returned us
pell-mell. At last, in response to our menaces, Berry slowed up before
a sign-post.
Its legend was plain.
BRISCOUS 10
We stared at it in silence. Then we stared at one another. Finally we
stared at Berry. The latter spread out his hands and shrugged his
shoulders.
"Instinct," he said. "Just instinct. It's very wonderful.
Hereditary, of course. One of my uncles was a water-waste preventer.
With the aid of a cricket-bat and a false nose, he could find a swamp
upon an empty stomach. They tried him once, for fun, at a
garden-party. Nobody could understand the host's uneasiness until,
amid a scene of great excitement, my uncle found the cesspool under the
refreshment marquee."
Eventually we persuaded him to proceed.
For a while the going was poor, but after we had passed Briscous all
cause for complaint vanished. Not only was the surface of the road as
good as new, but the way itself, was winsome. The main road to
Peyrehorade could not compare with it. At every twist and turn--and
there were many--some fresh attraction confronted us. The countryside,
shy of the great highways, crept very close. We slipped up lanes, ran
side by side with brooks, brushed by snug cottages. Dingles made bold
to share with us their shelter, hill-tops their sweet prospects,
hamlets their quiet content.
An amazing sundown set our cup brimming.
That this might run over, Bidache itself gave us a chateau--ruined,
desolate, and superb. There is a stateliness of which Death holds the
patent: and then, again, Time can be kind to the dead. What Death had
given, Time had magnified. Years had added to the grey walls a peace,
a dignity, a charm, such as they never knew while they were kept. The
grave beauty of the place was haunting. We passed on reluctantly....
A quarter of an hour later we ran into Peyrehorade.
Here Adèle relieved my brother-in-law and, encouraged by the promise of
a late tea, made the most of the daylight.
Eighty minutes later we slid into Pau.
As we swept up the drive of our villa--
"Well," said Berry, "I must confess it's been a successful day. If
we'd lunched with Evelyn, we should have missed that venison, and if
the main road hadn't been vile, we should have missed Bidache. Indeed,
provided no anti-climax is furnished by the temperature of the
bath-water, I think we may congratulate ourselves."
Adèle and I agreed enthusiastically.
Falcon met us in the hall with a note and a telephone message.
The first was from Mrs. Swetecote.
_DEAREST DAPHNE,_
_How awful of you! Never mind. I know how terribly easy it is to
forget. And now you must come over to us instead. Falcon insisted
that you would wish us to have lunch, so we did--a jolly good one, too.
And Jack smoked one of Berry's cigars, and, of course, we both lost our
hearts to Nobby. In fact, we made ourselves thoroughly at home._
_Your loving
EVELYN._
_P.S.--Try and find out who's staying at Pau with a blue all-weather
coupé. They went by us to-day like a flash of lightning. Fortunately
we were going dead slow, so it was all right. But they ought to be
stopped._
The second was from Jonah.
As rendered by Falcon, it ran:--
"Captain Mansel's compliments, sir, and, as Mrs. Adèle Pleydell was the
last to drive Ping, 'e thinks _she must 'ave 'is key_.... And as
Love's the honly thing as laughs at locksmiths, sir, will you kindly
return this forthwith.... I asked Captain Mansel where 'e'd like you
to meet 'im, sir, but 'e said _you'd_ know."
From Pau to La Barre is seventy miles--as near as 'damn it.'
* * * * *
I covered the distance alone. All the way a memory kept whispering
above the rush of the tires.... 'Madonna!'.... 'Madonna!'...
CHAPTER V
HOW LOVE CAME TO JILL, HERBERT TO THE RESCUE, AND A YOUNG MAN BY HIS
RIGHT
A week of fine days had slipped by. Most of these we had spent upon
the open road. For fifty miles about Pau we had proved the countryside
and found it lovely. This day we had determined to fare farther
afield. Perhaps because of this decision, Trouble had peered out of
the bushes before we had gone twenty miles.
Had we, however, been advised to expect a puncture and requested to
select the venue, we could not have chosen a more delightful spot.
Immediately upon our right there was a garden, trim and pleasing as the
farmhouse it served. Stretched in the gateway lay a large white hound,
regarding us sleepily. Beyond, on the greensward, a peacock preened
himself in the hot sunshine. On the left, a wayside bank made a
parapet, and a score of lime-trees a sweet balustrade. A glance
between these natural balusters turned our strip of metalling into a
gallery. The car, indeed, was standing upon the edge of a brae.
Whether this fell sheer or sloped steeply could not be seen, for the
first thing which the down-looking eye encountered was a vast plain,
rich, sun-bathed, rolling, three hundred feet below. North, south, and
east, as far as the sight could follow, was stretching Lilliput.
Meadows and poplars and the flash of streams, steadings and villages,
coppices, flocks and curling roads glinted or glowed in miniature.
Close on our right two toy towers stood boldly up to grace a townlet.
Due east a long, straight baby avenue led to a midget city. Northward
a tiny train stole like a snail into the haze of distance. Far to the
south the mountains, blurred, snowy, ethereal, rose like a beckoning
dream to point the fairy tale.
It was only when we had gloated upon the prospect for several minutes,
identified the townlet as Ibus and the city as Tarbes, and, taking out
powerful binoculars, subjected the panorama to a curious scrutiny,
which might have shattered the illusion, but only turned Lilliput into
Utopia, that we pulled ourselves together and started to consider our
plight.
This was not serious. A tire was flat, certainly, but we had two spare
wheels.
I drew a sou from my pocket and spun it into the air.
"I maintain," said Berry, "that the obverse will bite the dust."
The coin tinkled to a settlement, and we both stooped to read our
respective fates....
A moment later, with a self-satisfied grin, I climbed back into the
car, whilst Berry removed his coat with awful deliberation.
Jill was in possession of the paper, so I lighted a cigarette and
turned up Tarbes in the guide-book....
"Just listen to this," said my cousin suddenly.
"_Of the four properties, the villa Irikli is the most notable. A
well-known traveller once styled it 'the fairest jewel in Como's
diadem.' Occupying one of the choicest situations on the famous lake,
surrounded by extensive gardens, the varied beauty of which beggars
description, the palace--for it is nothing less--has probably excited
more envy than any dwelling in Europe...._
"Then it speaks about the house.... Wait a minute.... Here we are
"_The heavily-shaded lawns, stretching to the very edge of the lake,
the magnificent cedars, the sunlit terraces, the cascades, the chestnut
groves, the orange and lemon trellises, the exquisite prospects, go to
the making of a veritable paradise._"
"Doesn't that sound maddening?"
"It does, indeed," I agreed. "Whose is it?"
"I don't know," said Jill absently, staring into the distance. "But I
can just see it all. Fancy living there, and going out before
breakfast over the lawns to bathe..."
Idly I took the paper out of her hand.
From this it appeared that the property had belonged to the Duke of
Padua. Reading further, I found that the latter's whole estate had,
upon his death nine months ago, become the subject of an action at law.
The deceased's legitimacy, it seemed, had been called in question.
To-day the Appeal Court of Italy was to declare the true heir....
As I laid down the sheet--
"Somebody," I said, "will drink champagne to-night."
"Oranges and lemons," murmured Jill. "Cascades...."
A vicious grunt from below and behind suggested that my brother-in-law
was standing no nonsense.
I settled myself in my corner of the car, tilted my hat over my nose,
and closed my eyes....
The sound of voices aroused me.
"...your silly eyes. Didn't you hear me say '_Non_'? _NONG_, man,
_NONG_! You'll strip the blinkin' thread.... Look here...."
"_A-a-ah! Oui, oui, Monsieur. Je comprends, je comprends._"
"You don't listen," said Berry severely. "That's what's the matter
with you. Valuable car like this, too."
Jill buried her face in my sleeve and began to shake with laughter.
"_Alors, en avant, mon brave. Mettez y votre derrière._ Oh, very hot,
very hot."
"_C'est bien ça, Monsieur?_"
"Every time," said Berry. "Now the next.... _D'abord avec les
doigts_.... That's enough, fathead. What's the brace done?"
"_Mais, Monsieur----_"
"_Si vous disputez,_" said Berry gravely, "_vous ne l'aurez pas
seulement où le poulet a reçu la hache, mais je n'aurai pas de choix
mais de vous demander de retourner à vos b-b-b-boeufs._"
"_Pardon, Monsieur._"
"Granted, Herbert, granted," was the airy reply. "But you must take
off that worried look. _Ca me rappelle la maison des singes.... Oh,
terrible, terrible. Et le parfum_.... My dear Herbert, _il frappe
l'orchestre_.... And now, suppose we resume our improvement of the
working day."
Except for the laboured breathing of Herbert, the remaining bolts were
affixed in silence.
"_Bien,_" said Berry. "_Maintenant le_ jack. I trust, Herbert, that
you have a supple spine. _Voici. Tournez, mon ami, tournez.... Now,
non, NONG!_ You bull-nosed idiot! _A gauche!_"
"_A-a-ah! Oui, oui, Monsieur! A gauche, à gauche._"
"All right," said Berry. "I said it first. It's my brain-wave....
That's right. Now pull back--_tirez_. _Bon_. Now shove it _ici, dans
la bottine_.... And must you kneel upon the wing, Herbert? Must you?
A-a-ah! Get off, you clumsy satyr!"
A yell of protest from Herbert suggested that Berry's protest had been
reinforced _vi et armis_.
"_Non, non, Monsieur! Laissez-moi tranquil. Je ne fais quo ce que
vous commandez...._"
"Dog," said my brother-in-law, "you lie! Never mind. Pick up that
wheel instead. _Prenez la roue, Herbert_.... _C'est bien. Alors,
attachez-la ici._ Yes, I know it's heavy, but _ne montrez pas la
langue_. _Respirez par le nez, man_. And don't stagger like that. It
makes me feel tired.... So. Now, isn't that nice? Herbert, my Son,
_void la fin de votre travail_."
"_C'est tout, Monsieur?_"
"_C'est tout, mon ami_. Should you wish to remember me in your
prayers, _je suis le Comte Blowfly, du Rat Mort, Clacton-on-Sea_.
Telegraphic address, Muckheap. And there's ten francs towards your
next shave."
"_Oh, Monsieur, c'est trop gentil. J'ai été heureux----_"
"_Pas un mot_, Herbert. Believe me, it's cheap at the price. What's
more, _je suis enchanté d'avoir fait votre connaissance_."
"_A votre service, Monsieur._"
"Itch Deen," said Berry. "Itch Deen. And if ever one of your bullocks
bursts and you have to put in a new one, I only trust I shall be out of
earshot. _Au revoir, mon ami. Ne faites-pas attention au monsieur
avec le nez rouge dans l'auto. Il est grise._"
The reverent look with which Herbert favoured me, as he returned to his
oxen, I shall never forget. Clearly, to be in the arms of Dionysus by
eleven o'clock in the morning was arguing at once an affluence and a
discretion which were almost sacred.
"Ah," said Berry, making his appearance, "you're awake, are you? I've
just finished. Herbert's been watching me. Have you got the
beer-opener there? It's--it's tiring work."
"What is?" said I grimly. "Instructing?"
"That's it," said my brother-in-law. "I explained as I went along.
Herbert was most interested. A little dense, you know, but such a nice
fellow. He thinks the world of you. Now, I think the beer-opener's in
the left-hand----"
"In you get," said I, starting the engine. "Philanthropy and beer
don't go together."
With his foot upon the step, Berry regarded me.
"I should like Herbert's ruling on that," he said. "Besides, I've got
a thirst which is above rubies."
"Think what it'll be like by lunch-time," said Jill. "Besides," she
added, searching for her bag, "I've got some acid drops somewhere."
With an unearthly shriek Berry clawed at his temples.... For a moment
he rocked to and fro agonisedly. Then he climbed heavily into the car.
As he sank back against the cushions--
"Murderess," he said. "And it was the best I've had since Egypt."
* * * * *
Two hours later we ran into Montrejeau, crept by its exquisite
market--roofed and pillared and carrying its four hundred years as they
were forty--dropped down a wicked hill, and swept over an infant
Garonne on to the Luchon road.
Before we had covered five kilometres we sighted our goal.
'A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid.'
Out of the blowing meadows rose up an eminence. But for the snow-clad
heights beyond, you would have called it a mountain. Its slopes were
timbered, and if there was a road there, this could not be seen. High
up above the trees was a city wall, standing out boldly, as ramparts
should. Within the wall, still higher, were houses, white, ancient,
stern-faced. And there, clear above them all, perched upon the very
point of the hill, towered a cathedral. The size of it turned the city
into a close. Its site, its bulwarks, however, turned the church into
a castle. Here was an abbot filling the post of constable. The longer
you gazed, the stronger the paradox became. Pictures of peace and war
became inextricably confused. Men-at-arms mumbled their offices; steel
caps concealed tonsures: embrasures framed precious panes: trumpets
sounded the Angelus: mail chinked beneath vestments: sallies became
processions: sentinels cried "_Pax vobiscum_".... Plainly most
venerable, the tiny city and the tremendous church made up a living
relic, of whose possession Memory can be very proud.
Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges ranks with the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
There is nothing like it in all the world.
Presently we passed through the meadows, climbed up the tree-clad
slopes, and came to a little terrace under the city-wall. Full in the
sunlight, sheltered from the wind, the pleasaunce made an ideal
refectory. The view of the mountains, moreover, which it afforded was
superb. I stole by the city gate and berthed Pong close to the low
parapet....
Ten minutes later Ping drew up behind us.
"Isn't this just lovely?" cried Adèle, applying the hand-brake.
"It's unique," said I, advancing. "How did the car go?"
"Like a train," said Jonah, helping Daphne to alight. "I may add that
I've enjoyed being driven."
"Oh, Jonah, how nice of you!" cried Adèle.
It was, indeed, a compliment worth having.
"I told you so," I said unctuously.
"And now," said Berry, "if you've quite done scratching one another's
backs----"
"Vulgar brute!" said Daphne.
"I beg your pardon?"
My sister repeated the appellative.
Instantly her husband assumed an attitude of listening ecstasy.
"Hark!" he exclaimed dramatically. "I he-ear my lo-ove calling." A
rapturous smile swept into his face. "It must be clo-osing time." He
changed his tone to one of indicative solicitude. "More to the left,
sweet chuck. No. That's the water-trough. I've got the pram here."
A master of pantomime, Berry can create an atmosphere with a look and a
word. 'On the halls,' he would probably be a complete failure. On the
terrace beneath the walls of St. Bertrand he was simply side-splitting.
Daphne and Jonah included, we collapsed tearfully....
As we did so there was a roar of laughter behind us.
One and all, we turned blindly about, to see a slim figure in a grey
tweed suit dash for the gateway. As we looked, a grey hat flew off.
The next moment its owner was within the walls.
I ran to the gateway and stared up a little paved street. It was quite
empty. After a moment I returned to pick up the hat. Looking at this,
I saw that it came from Bond Street.
What was more remarkable was that twenty paces away was standing a grey
two-seater. It was quite evident that, for car and passenger to
approach without our knowledge, we must have been extremely
preoccupied, and the new-comer's engine uncannily silent.
After some discussion of the incident, we placed the hat in the
two-seater and proceeded to lunch....
The meal was over, and Jonah and I were washing the glasses, when--
"Now, no guide-books, please," said my brother-in-law. "I've read it
all up. Where we are now was the _ulularium_."
"Whatever's that?" said Jill.
"The howling-green," said Berry. "The monks used to come and howl here
before breakfast."
"What did they howl for?" said Adèle.
"It was a form," was the reply, "of mortification, instituted by
Aitchless the 'Alf-baked and encouraged by his successor, who presented
an empty but still fragrant beer-barrel to be howled for upon
Michaelmas Eve." After the manner of a guide, the speaker preceded us
to the gateway. "And now we come to the gate. Originally one-half its
present width, it was widened by the orders of Gilbert the Gluttonous.
The work, in which he took the deepest interest, was carried out under
his close supervision. Indeed, it was not until the demolition of the
structure had been commenced that he was able to be released from a
position which was embarrassing not only his digestion, but his peace
of mind, inasmuch as it was denying ingress to a cardinal who had much
influence at the Vatican and was wearing tight boots."
The steep, narrow street was walled by great houses of the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries, while at the top a little archway buttressed a
mansion of obvious importance.
"We now enter," said Berry, with the time-honoured flourish of the
hired conductor, "the famous Bishops' Row. At one time or another, in
every one of these dwellings prelates of all sizes and shapes have
snored, swallowed, and generally fortified the flesh. Upon that door
were posted the bulletins announcing the progress towards recovery of
Rudolph the Rash, who in the fifteenth year of his office decided to
take a bath. His eventual restoration to health was celebrated with
great rejoicing. From that window Sandwich, surnamed the Slop-pail,
was wont to dispense charity in the shape of such sack as he found
himself reluctantly unable to consume. Such self-denial surprised even
his most devoted adherents, until it was discovered that the bishop had
no idea that he was pouring libations into the street, but, with some
hazy intention of conserving the remains of his liquor, invariably
mistook the window for the door of a cupboard. The house on the left
is of peculiar interest. Behind those walls----"
"I wouldn't interrupt you for worlds," said Daphne, "and I'm sure the
cathedral won't be half so interesting, but, perhaps, if we saw that
first...."
"That's right," said her husband. "Twist the sage's tail. Now I've
lost my place. I shall have to begin all over again." He paused to
pass his hand across his eyes. Then he flung out an arm. "We now
enter the famous Bishops' Row. At one time or another, in every one of
these dwellings prelates of all...."
We fairly fled up the street.
We had visited the shrine: we had wondered at the silver eloquence of
architects: we had examined one by one sixty-six of the most exquisite
stalls that ever graced a choir: we had stared at thrones, pulpit,
organ-case and a great frieze--all of them carved with a cunning which
money could never buy, and to-day great love and piety are too poor to
purchase--we had walked in the cloisters: we had been shown the relics:
and whilst the others were picking over some picture postcards, I was
looking at an old fountain in the cathedral square.
"I say," said a pleasant voice.
Upon the other side of the basin was a slim figure in a grey tweed
suit--a nice-looking boy of about twenty summers. His thick, dark hair
was uncovered, and there was a grave look in the big brown eyes.
"Hullo," said I. "You're the runaway."
"That's right," he said quickly. "I only want to apologise. I'm
afraid I was awfully rude to laugh like that, but I couldn't help it.
I wasn't listening."
He turned away hurriedly.
"Here, I say!" I cried, stepping after him. With his chin on his
shoulder the boy hesitated, like some wild thing. "Don't go," I added.
"It's quite all right. If my brother-in-law likes to make a fool of
himself, why shouldn't you laugh?"
"I know, but----"
"My dear fellow," said I, "the more the merrier. Besides, we use the
same hatter. So let's be friends. You're all alone, aren't you?"
"Er--yes. I'm really staying at Pau, and, as I'd got nothing----"
"I knew I'd seen your car before. Didn't you go to Lourdes on Tuesday?"
The boy started.
"Yes, sir. I--I think I did."
He was really extraordinarily nervous.
"That's right," I continued. "We were on the way back from Cauterets.
By the way, I see you've got one of the new models. How does she go?"
We walked down to the gate, talking easily enough....
By the time the others arrived, the two-seater's bonnet was open, and I
had promised to teach him to change speed without taking out the clutch.
"Isn't that sweet?" said Jill's voice.
My companion started upright.
"You like it?" he said, flushing.
"I think it's wonderful," said my cousin.
So it was.
I have seen many mascots. But, seated upon the cap of the radiator, a
little silver reproduction of the Ares Ludovisi knocked memories of
nymphs, hounds, and urchins into a cocked hat.
"I'd like you to have it," said the boy suddenly. "Which is your car?"
"Oh, but I can't take it," cried Jill breathlessly. "It's awfully
generous of you, but I couldn't think of----"
"Well, let's just see how it looks. You were in the first car, weren't
you?"
It was about a thousand to one against the two caps being
interchangeable, but the miracle came off. Once Ares was in his new
seat, nothing would induce his owner to disestablish him.
"Keep him to-day, at least," he insisted. "Please do. I think
it--it'll bring me luck."
"You're awfully kind," said Jill. "Why did you run away?"
Daphne took my arm and called Berry. Together we strolled up the
terrace. Jonah was showing Adèle the points of the two-seater.
"Who," said my sister, "is this attractive youth?"
"I've not the faintest idea," said I. "But he's staying at Pau."
"Well, Jill's got off," was the reply. "They're like a couple of
children."
"Ah!" said Berry unexpectedly.
"What on earth's the matter?" said Daphne.
"Listen," rejoined her husband. "I've laid an egg--metaphorically.
We're all terrified of Jill getting pinched--again
metaphorically--aren't we? Very good. Let's encourage this
friendship. Let it swell into an attachment. They're far too young to
think about marriage. Of course, we shan't see so much of her, but, as
the sainted Martin said, half a cloak's better than no bags."
"Dear lad," said Daphne, slipping her arm through his, "you're not
laying at all. You're getting broody." With that, she turned to me.
"And what do you think about it?"
"He's a gentleman," said I. "And he's a child. Children, I suppose,
attract children. Let him be asked to tea, and they can play in the
nursery."
"Thank you," said my sister. "Now I'll break it to you. Subject to
the usual formalities, Jill will marry that boy within the year."
"B-but it's absurd," bubbled Berry. "It's out of the question. They'd
be like the Babes in the Wood. What that he-child's doing on his own,
I can't imagine. I should think he's a ward in Chancery who's given
his guardians the slip. And the two together'd make a combination
about as well fitted to cope with Life as a mute with a megaphone."
"On the contrary," said Daphne, "they'll get on splendidly. They'll
turn the world into a playground. Wherever they go, everybody'll drop
their tools and go down on their knees and play with them." She
laughed delightedly. "I tell you, it'll be like a fairy tale."
"Of course," I said, "I see what it is. You're at your old games."
"I'm not," was the fierce retort. "D'you think I want to lose Jill?
But she'll have to go some day. It's inevitable. And the only thing
she could ever really love is a playmate. The finest lover in the
world would never find the trick of Jill's heart. Only a child can do
that. She might marry him easily--the lover, I mean. And she'd be
happy, of course. But she'd miss the biggest thing in life. Well,
eligible playmates are pretty scarce. I've been watching for one for
years. Mind you, I don't say this boy's going to do. There may be a
score of reasons that put his suit out of court. But, on the face of
it, he's nearer the mark than anything I've seen."
Thoughtfully we turned back the way we had come...
After a long silence--
"Any way," said Berry gloomily, "the first thing to do 's to find out
who he is. Perhaps Jill's done it."
"That," said my sister, "is the very last thing she'd think of."
We returned to where Ping and Pong were standing, to find that Jonah
and Adèle had disappeared, while Jill was being taught to drive the
two-seater. The environs of Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges do not make a
good school, but master and pupil cared not for that. Indeed, they
were so engrossed in their exercise that our approach was unobserved.
The two were at the top of their bent.
Flushed with excitement, laughing, chattering like old friends, lady
and squire were having the time of their lives. They were, certainly,
wonderfully matched. If Jill was a picture, so was the boy. His
gravity was gone. The fine, frank face was fairly alight with
happiness, the brown eyes dancing, the strong white teeth flashing
merriment. From being good-looking, he had become most handsome. If
he was to find the trick of Jill's heart, she had laid a pink finger
upon the catch of his charm.
For a moment we stood marvelling....
Then Jill saw us with the tail of her eye.
"I say," she cried, twittering, "he's going to teach me to drive. He's
coming to lunch to-morrow, and then we're going along the Morlaas road,
because that'll be quiet."
As Adèle and Jonah emerged from the gateway--
"You can't have the Morlaas road to-morrow," said Berry, "because I've
got it. I'm going to practise reversing through goats. It's all
arranged. Five million of the best new-laid goats are to be in line of
troop columns two kilometres south of the 'L' of a 'ill by three
o'clock."
Jill addressed her companion.
"We'll go another way," she said. "I don't suppose he's really going
there, but, if he did.... Well, when he says he's going backwards on
purpose, we always get out of the car."
The naïveté with which this unconsciously scathing criticism was
phrased and uttered trebled its poignancy.
Berry collapsed amid a roar of laughter.
Then Jonah pulled out his watch, and we began to arrange ourselves.
That Jill might return with her brother and have her mascot too, we had
to swap cars; for, as the only two mechanics, Jonah and I never
travelled together. I was sorry about it, for Pong was the apple of my
eye. Seldom, if ever, had we been parted before. Jonah, I fancy, felt
the same about Ping.
Our new friend was going straight back. We, however, were proposing to
return by Bagnères-de-Bigorre, and suggested that he should accompany
us. He shook his head gravely.
"No. I--I have to get back," he said heavily. "I must." Then he
bowed to Daphne and to us all. "You've been very kind to me.
Good-bye."
As he turned--
"Till to-morrow," I cried heartily. "You know where we live?"
"Oh, yes. You're Captain Pleydell."
"That's right. Oh, and--er--by the way, I don't think we know your
name."
For a moment the boy hesitated. Then he turned scarlet.
"N-neither do I," he said.
* * * * *
It was four o'clock by the time we reached Lannemezan, so, after a
little discussion, my wife and Berry and I determined to cut
Bagnères-de-Bigorre out of our itinerary and return to Pau by the way
by which we had come. Whether the others, who were ahead of us, had
come to the same decision, we could not tell.
Berry was driving like a professional. The fact, however, that between
Lannemezan and Tarbes the pleasant road was littered with more
dog-carts and bullock-waggons than one would have expected any three
departments of France to be able to furnish, tended to cramp his style.
The uses, moreover, to which the occupants of these vehicles subjected
the way argued a belief not so much in progress as in _esprit de
corps_. As often as not the carts moved three abreast, their human
complements comparing excited notes, gossiping and making merry with as
much disregard of their whereabouts as if they were gathered in a
familiar tavern. As for the waggons, these were frequently unattended,
their custodians trudging disinterestedly in rear, absorbed in
good-natured argument and leaving their bullocks to place their own
interpretation upon the rule of the road. Such confidence was seldom
misplaced: still, for the driver of an approaching car to share it,
demanded, I suppose, an experience of oxen which we did not possess.
After a few miles my brother-in-law's patience began to show signs of
wear and tear, and by the time we had reached Tournay it was positively
threadbare. For this Adèle and I paid almost as heavily as he. But
for the horn by his side, many an infuriated chauffeur would have lost
his reason. It is a kind of safety-valve. Berry's employment of this
convenient accessory was characterised by a savagery which, if
deplorable, is not uncommon. The frequency, however, with which
passage simply had to be asked was truly terrible. Disapproval at once
so bitterly and constantly expressed was most distressing. Our heads
began to ache violently....
To crown our annoyance, we picked up a cast shoe--with the inevitable
result. When, fortified by the knowledge that it was my turn to change
the wheel, Berry ventured to point out that such an acquisition was
extremely fortunate, the power of speech deserted me.
Dusk was falling as we ran into Tarbes....
"D'you think," said Adèle, "that we could find a chemist? My head
feels as if it was going to burst."
We sought diligently without success. After a little we stopped and
asked a postman. An apothecary of sorts, it appeared, was plying his
trade two side-streets away. Adèle and I descended to go and visit him.
I was rather sceptical about the virtue of the drug which was
eventually produced to us, but, after a little discussion, we purchased
the tablets and asked for some water with which to swallow them.
I must confess that when we returned to find no sign of the car, I was
extremely annoyed. It was rapidly growing dark and it had become cold.
Adèle was tired and had had no tea. The market was up, with the result
that the streets were swarming. I cursed my brother-in-law with
pardonable acerbity.
"It's all right, old chap," said Adèle, taking my arm. "He's probably
just around somewhere. Let's go and look for him."
He was not around anywhere.
We struggled to the right, we fought our way to the left, we pushed and
were pushed back to the _pharmacie_, and we returned laboriously to our
starting-point. All the time we were devilled by the lingering idea
that Berry was searching for us, and that we were just avoiding him at
every turn. After another two minutes, I took my protesting wife back
to the chemist's shop, requested his hospitality on her behalf, and,
after seeing her received by a glowing Frenchwoman into an inner room,
turned up my collar and advanced blasphemously into the street.
Almost immediately Berry stumbled into my arms.
"_The car!_" he gasped. "_A plant! Quick! Or they'll do us down!_"
I stared at him stupidly.
His coat was torn and he was streaming with sweat. Also his hat was
missing, and there was a cut on his cheek.
"You're hurt," I cried.
"Right as rain," he panted. "Tell you 's we go." He started to pelt
up the street. I ran by his side. "'Bout two minutes after you'd
gone--fellow ran up t' the car in hell of a state--firs' couldn' make
out what matter was--talked too fast--then gathered, you'd sent
him--Adèle had been taken ill--lie, of course--see now--never occurred
to me at time--told him get on step and guide me--burst off up
street--lef' ri' lef stunt--'fore knew where I was, cul de sac--pulled
up--nex' second, both doors open and toughest cove 've ever seen told
me t' hop it--in bad American--round to t' left here--course I tumbled
at once--dirty work--tried t' hit him--nothing doing--tried to lock
car--couldn't--hauled out anyhow--no good yelling--ran find you--one
ray hope--out of petrol--I never stopped engine--petered out on its
own--can on step, I know--but they'll have to locate trouble--and then
decant--left again here ... no ... wait." He looked from side to side
anxiously. Then he swung round and glanced back. "Gad, I think we're
wrong." He started back frantically. "No, that's right. I 'member
that café." We swung round again. Arrived once more at the corner,
again he hesitated, twitching his lips nervously and sobbing for want
of breath. "These blasted streets," he jerked out. "I tried to
memorise 'em, but---- _There they are, Boy! There they are!_"
It was true.
Turning away from us into a street on our left, about forty paces away,
was our own blue coupé....
But for the fact that a cart was presenting a momentary obstruction,
our quarry would have been gone. As it was, I flung myself on to the
running-board as she was gathering speed....
Without a word, I thrust my arm in at the window and switched off the
engine. As she slowed up I leapt for the bonnet, whipped it open and
felt for the high-tension wire. At that moment the engine
re-started.... For a second whoever was driving fumbled with the
gears.... As the wheels meshed with a chunk, my fingers found what
they sought. The next instant the car lunged forward--and the wire
broke.
I fell on my back, certainly, and my hand was bleeding, but I could
afford to smile. The gun was spiked.
As I rose to my feet, the car came gently to rest twenty-five paces
away.
"All right?" panted Berry by my side.
"Every time," said I. "And now for it." I turned to a gaping youth.
"_Allez cherche la police,_" I flung at him. "_Vite!_"
As we came up to the car--
"And may I ask," drawled a voice, "the meaning of this hold-up? I
guess you'll get tired of answering before you're through, but, as the
owner of this vehicle, I'm just curious."
"Cut it out," said I shortly. "And just come out of that car. Both of
you."
So far as the speaker's companion was concerned, my injunction was
supererogatory. Even as I spoke, with a scream of agony the latter
emerged from the car. Holding him fast by the wrist, Berry had almost
broken his arm across the jamb of the door.
"And why?" said the voice imperturbably.
"Because the game's up." I opened the door. "Besides, to tell you the
truth, we're rather particular about our cushions. Till now, no one
with more than three previous convictions has ever sat on them."
With narrowed eyes, a very square-faced gentleman regarded me grimly.
"If you hadn't damaged my car," he said slowly. "I'd get out and
refashion your physiognomy. But I guess I'll wait for the police."
And, with that, he drew a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end, spat,
and then lighted the brand with great deliberation.
I began to think rapidly.
Violence was out of the question. The fellow was far heavier than I,
and obviously as hard as nails. Moreover, I felt instinctively that
the Queensberry Rules did not mean much to him. As for cunning--well,
we were not in the same class. Here was an audacity such as I had not
dreamed of. Having lost one throw, the fellow was doubling his stake.
Hook having broken in his hand, he had dropped it and picked up Crook.
_His game was to bluff the French police_. That was why he was staying
in the car--to give the impression of ownership. If he could maintain
this impression, make it easy for the police to wash their hands of a
dispute between foreigners, so find favour in their eyes, just turn the
scale sufficiently to be allowed to proceed "pending the fullest
inquiries"--it might go hard with us....
I fancy he read my thoughts, for he took the cigar from his mouth and
laughed softly.
"Up against it, aren't you?" he said.
At last a _gendarme_ arrived, and five minutes later we were all on the
way to the police-station.
This was not to my gentleman's taste, but he was too shrewd a knave to
press his point. Honesty was his best policy. He did demand hotly
that I should be taken in charge, but I had the better of him in
French, and after a moment he let that iron go. He fought very hard
for the services of a mechanic, but I was determined that the engine
should remain out of action, and, calling for volunteers upon the crowd
of unlookers, soon satisfied the _gendarme_ that to push the car to the
station was easy enough.
Holding fast to the accomplice, who, for reasons best known to himself,
was adopting an injured air in sulky silence, Berry walked by my side.
"What's his game?" he muttered. "In the face of our papers, he's done."
"He'll swear they're his, for a monkey. They're in the car. Probably
read them through, while you were looking for me. And all the details
are on the Travelling Pass. But he's got to get over the photograph."
"Well, it's up to you," said Berry. "I used to think I could bluff,
but this--this is beyond me."
When we arrived at the police-station the chief of the police was
summoned, and we told our respective tales.
Our enemy spoke first--shortly, but much to the point.
He was returning, he said, to Pau, where he was staying with friends.
Finding that he had run out of petrol, while he was passing through
Tarbes, he had turned into a side-street to refill without obstructing
a main thoroughfare. As he was starting again, an assault had been
made--an unprovoked assault--seriously damaging the car. Thereupon he
had sent for the police. Now, foiled in their enterprise, the thieves,
he understood, were actually daring to say that he had assaulted them.
One of them--he nodded at Berry--had certainly been roughly handled,
but, Mon Dieu, what did they expect? (Here he took out his watch and
frowned at the dial.) And now would the police get to work? His
friends at Pau would be wondering what had become of him.
I admit that you could have pushed me over.
Upon the question of ownership the rogue said not a word. The whole
onus of raising that issue he had thrust on to me. I was to broach the
barrel of improbability, and by so doing to taint my whole case...
The police were manifestly impressed.
There was no doubt at all that we were up against it.
The asperity with which the official asked me what we had to say sent
my heart into my boots.
I started to tell my story.
The moment I said that the car belonged to us, police and robber stared
at me as if bewitched. Then the latter exploded.
It was certainly very well done.
Such fulminations of outraged dignity, such out-pourings of righteous
indignation, never were witnessed. It took the united sympathy and
assurance of the whole personnel of the station, to smooth the ruffian
down. After a while, however, he condescended to see the humorous
side. The police laughed with him....
Throughout my recital I had to endure the like.
As for the chief of police, he was plainly extremely bored. He
listened, patently because it was his duty to let me speak. His cold,
indifferent air, the way in which his eyes went straying about the
room, were simply maddening.
Desperately endeavouring to keep my temper, I ploughed my way on.
At last--
"Listen," I said dramatically. "You do not believe me. I do not blame
you. My friend has told a good tale. At present it is my word against
his. Supposing I bring some evidence?"
"What evidence can you bring?"
"The papers belonging to the car." I pointed to the usurper. "On his
own showing I cannot have seen them. Yet I will tell you their
contents. I pray you, send for them. They're in the left----"
"Wrong, sonny," said my antagonist, tapping his coat. "I always carry
'em here." And, with that, he drew out our wallet and flung it upon
the desk.
With our Pass in his hands, the chief of the police blinked at me.
"The chassis number?" he said.
"P 1709."
Up went his eyebrows.
"And on the number-plates?"
"XD 2322."
The official folded the Pass and shook his head.
"Wrong," he said shortly.
As I stared at him, frowning--
"Yes, sonny," said the jeering voice. "An' don't go putting it up that
you're J. Mansel, 'cause the picture's against you."
With the words the truth came to me.
It was Ping--Jonah's car--that was standing without in the street.
_And I had given Pong's numbers_....
With a grin of triumph the impostor rose to his feet.
"So that's that," he drawled. "Well, I guess I'll be moving. As for
these climbers----"
"Pardon me, sir," said Berry, in pretty fair French, "but you will do
nothing of the sort." He turned to the chief of the police and
inclined his head. "I am a nobleman, and--I should like a chair."
For a moment the other stared at him; then he sent for a seat. Had I
stood in his shoes, I should have done the same. My brother-in-law's
air was irresistible.
Berry sat down carefully.
"I shall not," he said, "keep you long. This is not my car. It
belongs to my cousin, Captain Jonathan Mansel. Look at the Pass,
please, and check me. Captain Mansel was born at Guildford, Surrey, is
it not so? Good. Now I have given the birthplace." He shot out an
accusing hand. "_Ask that gentleman the date._"
For the second time the tough exploded, but with a difference. This
time the wrath was genuine, the passion real. There was something
beastly about it. Beside this paroxysm the other outburst had been
almost refined.
The official who had been about to speak looked at the fellow
curiously, and when, a moment later, the latter stretched out his hand
for the Pass, he held up a prohibitive palm.
As the storm died down--
"Good," said Berry. "The gentleman doesn't want to. The date is
December the fifteenth, 1891." He sighed profoundly. Then: "You have
a _gendarme_ here," he said musingly, "called Jean Laffargue."
The chief of the police stared.
"Yes, _Monsieur_. He is there, by the door."
Berry nodded.
"He has a twin brother, hasn't he?"
"Perfectly, _Monsieur_. He is called '_François._'"
"Very likely," said Berry. "Very likely. I call him _Herbert_!"
"_Monsieur le Comte_," said Herbert, stepping into the room.
"Ah, Herbert," said Berry airily, "we meet again." He nodded at the
official. "Just tell this gentleman about this morning, will you? He
would, I think, be interested."
To say that Herbert came up to the scratch is to do scant justice to
the testimony which he gave and to the manner in which he gave it. He
swore to Berry: he swore to me: and in all honesty he swore to the car.
For this, since Ping and Pong were duplicates, he may be forgiven. He
described the morning's incident with a wealth of picturesque detail
and an abundance of vivid imagery, while an astute cross-examination
only served to adorn the sincerity of his tale.
Finally, in response to his entreaties, police and all, we followed him
into the street, where, displaying a histrionic ability which was truly
French, he proceeded to reconstruct and rehearse his great adventure
with the enthusiasm of a zealot.
Watch in hand, Berry touched the chief of the police upon the shoulder.
"By now," he said, "I think my cousin may have reached Pau. If you
would like to telephone...."
He stopped suddenly to peer right and left into the darkness.
The gentry had disappeared.
* * * * *
Ten minutes later, with a _gendarme_ on either step, we picked up an
anxious Adèle. Then we filled up with petrol, had my makeshift
connection replaced by a new wire, and started for home.
As we passed the scene of our meeting with Herbert--
"Which goes to prove," said my brother-in-law, "the wisdom of catching
at straws. I noticed his likeness to Herbert the moment we entered the
room, and, for what it was worth, I kept my eye on him. Then a
_gendarme_ came in and whispered. I caught the words '_votre frère_.'
Laffargue shrugged his shoulders and glanced at the clock. It looked
as if his brother was waiting for him to come off duty. I began to
wonder whether the two were going to blow my ten francs. During one of
the arguments I shot my bolt. I asked him to tell his twin-brother
that the Count Blowfly was here and would be glad if he'd wait. He
stared rather, but, after a little hesitation, he slipped out of the
room. I think
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