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Fiction

Berry and Co.

Dornford Yates

Update Subscription Section 2 of 25 - Table of Contents
Then the road curled, and Agatha turned left about and settled herself
by my side.

"How did you know my Christian name?" I demanded.

"Your sister used it this morning. You see, I've forgotten your other,
and I can't keep on saying 'you.' But I won't do it again."

"Please, Agatha."

"Deriot. One 'r.' I say, you've torn your coat properly."

"It feels as if it was in two pieces," said I.

"If it wasn't for the collar, it would be," said Agatha. "Never mind.
Bare backs are still fashionable. And what's a torn coat, when you've
got the car again?"

"You're right," I agreed. "You'd hardly believe it," I added, "but I can
tell from the feel of her that some stranger's been driving."

"I can believe it. After all, a car's just like a horse."

As she spoke, we sped into the market square of Bloodstock. The police
station stood in Love Lane, a couple of streets away.

Here a disappointment was in store. The sole representative of the Law
was a station sergeant in his shirt-sleeves and a state of profuse
perspiration. Between his lips was a penholder, and he held a telephone
receiver to his left ear. In an adjoining room the bell of another
telephone was ringing violently in long regular spasms, while, somewhere
quite close, a dog was giving ceaseless vent to those short sharp barks
which denote impatience of detention.

A sudden elevation of the sergeant's eyebrows invited me to state my
business, but before I had spoken two sentences he shifted the penholder
from his mouth and shook his head.

"'Fraid I can't 'elp you at the moment, sir. That's the third car what's
been stole in this distric' this mornin'. There's a 'ole gang of 'em
about. Every one excep' me's out after 'em now. 'Eaven knows when
they'll come in. An' there's that other telephone goin' like mad, an'
the Chief Constable's lef' his bull-dawg tied up there, an' 'e won't let
me within six foot of it." He turned to blare into the mouthpiece.
"'Ullo! 'Oo _are_ you? 'Oo _are_ you? Wot! Oh, I can't bear it. 'Ere,
for 'Eaven's sake, 'old the line." He set down the receiver, shook the
sweat out of his eyes, and sank on to a stool. "Another blinkin' car
gone," he said hoarsely. "I dunno wot's the matter with the world. I
wish I was back in France."

       *       *       *       *       *

Love Lane was a narrow street, so I did not attempt to turn the car, but
drove on and presently out of the town by back streets on to the
Bilberry road.

It would have been better if I had telephoned to White Ladies before
leaving Bloodstock, to announce my recovery of the car; but I was
expecting to be back there so soon that it seemed unnecessary.

Indeed, it was only when we were once more under way that I thought of
the colt and the embrocation, to say nothing of my lady's two-seater,
now standing helpless in the gloom of the wayside barn.

"I tell you what," said I. "We'll drive to the barn and pick up the
lotion, and then I'll take you home. Then I can run your chauffeur back
to the barn with a spare cover, drop him there, and push off to White
Ladies."

"I can improve on that," said Agatha, with a glance at her wrist. "It'll
be past one by the time we get home, so you must stay to lunch. You can
telephone to White Ladies from there. And afterwards I'll go back with
you--I was to come over this afternoon, wasn't I?--and we can drop the
chauffeur at the barn on the way. And he can come for me in the
evening."

Agatha was living at Broadacre, a fine old place on the edge of the
forest itself, and thither we came without incident, just as an
old-fashioned gong was summoning the household to meat.

Admiral and Mrs. Deriot were kindness itself. First I was given a long,
cold, grateful drink. Then the old sailor led me to his own chamber and
ministered personally to my wants. My coat was given to a maid to be
roughly stitched, and when I appeared at luncheon it was in a jacket
belonging to my host. Our story was told and retold, the lawlessness of
the year of Grace 1919 was bewailed, and a violent denunciation of
motor-thieves was succeeded by a bitter proscription of the County
Police.

In the midst of my entertainment I remembered that I had not telephoned
to White Ladies, but the servant sent to make the connection was
informed by the Exchange that the line was out of order.

"I expect it's fused," said I. "With Berry at one end and that station
sergeant at the other, the strain must have been fearful."

       *       *       *       *       *

It was half-past two before we were once more in the car. On the back
seat sat the Deriots' chauffeur, holding a spare wheel between his
knees.

It did not take us long to reach the barn, and, so soon as we had once
more unearthed the farmer, authorized him to suffer the chauffeur to
remove the two-seater, and discharged our debt for "accommodation," I
turned the Rolls round and headed for White Ladies.

"She's certainly a beautiful car," said Agatha, as the Rolls sailed up a
treacherously steep gradient on top. "It's like being in a lift."

"And, but for you, we might never have seen her again. Shall I give you
a stamp album, or would you like to drive?"

"D'you really mean that?" said Miss Deriot.

I shot her a glance. There was no mistaking the eagerness of her parted
lips and the sparkle of her gay brown eyes. By way of replying I brought
the car to a standstill. A moment later we had changed places.

"It's awfully kind of you," said Agatha delightedly, as she let in the
clutch. "I've always wanted to drive a Rolls. I hope I shan't hurt her."

"You'll do her good," said I. "I watched you in the two-seater. You've
got beautiful hands."

"Thank you, Boy."

"Now you shall have a stamp album as well. Go carefully here. There used
to be a wasps' nest in that bank, but it's closed now, same as the
German banks. What a war!"

"But I don't collect stamps."

"Then she shall have a dog. What about a Sealyham to sleep on your bed
and bite the postman?"

"I'd love one," said Agatha.

"And you'll sit up in bed in the morning, with your hair all about your
eyes, and smile at him, and he'll growl back at you--I can just see
you."

"Thanks awfully. But you're wrong about my hair."

"Is it never unruly?"

"Only by day. I wish to goodness I could wear it down."

"So do I. Then we could all sit on it when the grass was wet. At the
moment there's a particularly beautiful tress caressing your left
shoulder. And I think you ought to know that the wind is kissing it
quite openly. It's all very embarrassing. I hope I shan't catch it," I
added cheerfully.

Miss Deriot made a supreme effort to look severe.

"If you do," she said uncertainly, "I shall drive straight into the
horse-pond."

"'Sh!" said I reprovingly. "You oughtn't to jest about such things. You
might catch it yourself. Easily." Here we passed the horse-pond. "You
know you'll never be able to look fierce so long as you have that
dimple. You'll have to fill it up or something. I suppose it's full of
dew every morning now."

Without a word Agatha slowed down, turned up a by-road, and stopped.
Then she proceeded to back the car.

"What on earth is she doing?" said I.

She turned a glowing face to mine.

"Going back to the horse-pond," she flashed.

I laid a hand on her arm and she stopped.

"My dear, if you must have a bath, you shall have one directly you get
to White Ladies. I'll turn on the water for you. But let me beg of
you----"

"If I go on, will you promise to behave?"

"Faithfully."

"And fold your arms and sit like a groom all the way?"

"I suppose you couldn't make it a footman. Then I could stand on the
petrol tank. However, as it's your birthday----"

I folded my arms with a sigh. Instantly Agatha leaned towards me with a
dazzling smile.

"Good Boy," she said in a caressing tone. "Now he shall have a stamp
album."

"But I don't collect stamps."

The smile deepened. But for her red mouth, her little white teeth would
have been the prettiest things in the world.

"Well, I'd thought of a stamp album," she said slowly. "However, as it's
your birthday----"

A minute later we were back in the main road.

       *       *       *       *       *

By my direction Miss Deriot drove straight to the stables, and we left
the car standing in the middle of the yard.

As we walked round to the front of the house, "We won't tell the others
that we've found her just yet," said I. "We'll hear what they've got to
say first."

"Perhaps they're all out looking for her," said Agatha.

"Not all. Daphne's sure to be here somewhere."

As I spoke we rounded a clump of laurels to see the lady in question
comfortably ensconced in a deck-chair upon the lawn. By her side was
Jill, seated upon a cushion, one little foot tucked under her, nursing
the other's instep with her slim, brown hand. On a rug at her feet lay
Jonah, his chin propped between his two palms and a pipe in his mouth.

All three were gazing contentedly across the grass to where the drive
swept wide to the foot of the broad grey steps. _There stood a handsome
Rolls-Royce, the facsimile of the one from which we had just alighted._

With a great gasp Agatha stopped dead, and I recoiled as from a spectre.
Instinctively we clasped one another.

"It's all right," I whispered. "I've seen it too. It'll go away in a
moment. Shows what imagination will do."

"But--but it's real!" cried Agatha.

"Real enough, my lady," said Jonah's voice. He seemed to be speaking
from a great distance. "And I'll bet you never expected to see her again
so soon," he added, looking at me with a smile.

"To tell you the truth," said I, "we didn't."

As in a dream I watched a dazed and stammering Agatha made welcome and
set in a chair by my sister's side. Somebody--Jill, I fancy--led me to
the rug and persuaded me to sit down. Mechanically I started to fumble
for a cigarette. Then I heard Jonah talking, and I came to my senses.

"We thought you'd be surprised," he was saying, "but I didn't think it'd
take you like this. After all, there's nothing uncanny about it."

"But I don't understand----"

"Listen. Will Noggin was sitting in the car when he heard a crash, and
there was a fellow lying in the middle of the road, about fifty yards
away, with a push-bike beside him. Naturally Will jumped out and ran to
his help. The man seemed to be having a fit, and Will was just loosening
his collar, when he heard the engine start and saw the Rolls moving. He
left the chap in the road and ran like mad, but he was too late. Nobody
ever saw the fellow with the push-bike again. Of course he was one of
the gang, and his fall was a put-up job to get Will out of the way.
Pretty smart--what?

"Well, you hadn't been gone five minutes when Fitch arrived on his
motor-bike. He'd come to bring us a can of petrol, for after we'd left
he remembered the tank was almost empty.

"That gave me a bit of hope. If they stuck to the main road you were
pretty well bound to catch them, for Fitch swore they'd never get five
miles. But, of course, they might turn off. So I thought the rest of us
had better follow and search the by-roads for all we were worth. So I
sat on Fitch's carrier with the can under one arm, and Daphne
commandeered the curate's push-bike and sent Berry after us."

"Isn't he back yet?" said I, looking round.

"Not yet," said Jonah, with a grin.

"And doesn't he know she's found?"

"That pleasure is still awaiting him. Well, Fitch was right. We left the
Bloodstock road for the second time at Dew Thicket, and at the foot of
the hill there she was, dry as a bone, but as right as rain."

"Abandoned?"

"Apparently. Any way, there was no one in sight. I sent Fitch after you
and drove her home. Fitch had a burst directly he'd left me, and had to
walk back to Bilberry."

"Is that all?" said I.

"Well, it's enough, isn't it?"

"Not nearly," said I, rising to my feet. "Kindly accompany me to the
stables."

"What d'you mean, Boy?" cried Jill.

"'Sh!" said I. "Come and see."

In silence I led the way, Agatha treading solemnly by my side. As we
turned under the archway that led to the stable-yard--

"You see," I said carelessly, "we, too, have met with some success."

The Rolls was standing where I had left her, waiting to be backed into
the garage.

My sister gave a cry and caught at Jonah's arm. Jonah started violently
and smothered an exclamation. Jill put one hand to her eyes, as if to
brush away a vision.

There was a long silence.

At length I turned to Jonah.

"I fear that you were hasty, brother. A moment's reflection will show
you that you and Fitch have spoiled some poor car-owner's day. Let me
suggest that you return your ill-gotten gains to the foot of the hill
beyond Dew Thicket without delay. As a matter of fact, I know the police
are very concerned about this theft. It was the fourth in this district
this morning."

Fitch came forward, touching his hat.

"It's a mistake anybody might make, sir. They're as like as two pins."
He pointed to the car. "She's the spit of ours, she is."

"Don't be silly," said I. "I admit they're exactly alike, but that's
ours."

Fitch shook his head.

"Different chassis number, sir, to say nothing of the number-plates."

I stared at him. Then--

"Nonsense," I said sturdily.

"It's a fact, sir. The one in the front's ours. I'm afraid you've stole
somebody else's car."

       *       *       *       *       *

We had returned to the front of the house and were wondering what to do,
when our attention was attracted by a sudden outburst of cries and the
noise of a car's tires tearing at the road. This lay but a hundred odd
yards away on the farther side of the brown stream by which the lawn was
edged. For the length of a cricket pitch the hedgerow bounding the
highway was visible from where we stood, and as this was not more than
four feet high, we were able to observe a scene which was clearly but
the prologue to a drama in which we were presently to appear.

Under the explosive directions of a man in a grey hat, who was standing
upright and holding on to the wind-screen, frantic efforts were being
made to turn what seemed to be a small touring car. Even as we looked, a
savage gesture in our direction suggested that our friend was
identifying the Rolls by our side as stolen property for the benefit of
four individuals who crouched timorously behind him. To my consternation
I observed that these were no less than an inspector and three
constables of the County Police.

The next minute the car had been turned round and was being driven
rapidly back to our lodge-gates.

"Leave them to me," said Jonah quietly. "Go and sit down on the lawn,
all of you. I'll fix them."

       *       *       *       *       *

"That's the fellow," said Grey Hat, in a shaking voice, "and that's his
accomplice." He pointed a fat hand at myself and Agatha in turn.

"I beg your pardon," said Jonah. Grey Hat turned and looked him up and
down. "Were you wanting anything? I mean, I live here."

"I don't know who you are," came the reply. "But that's my car, and
those are the people who stole it."

"One thing at a time. My name's Mansel."

"I'm the Chief Constable of the County."

"Good. Now, about the car. I was under the impression that it was mine."

"Don't try and bluff me, sir," roared the other. "You know perfectly
well that that car was stolen from the outskirts of Bloodstock only a
few hours ago. You're a receiver, sir, a common----" He checked himself
with an effort. "Inspector!" The officer addressed came forward and
saluted. "Caution the three of them."

"Hadn't you better identify your property first?" said Jonah. "I mean, I
don't want to interfere, but if it's a question of our arrest----"

The inspector hesitated, and the Chief Constable's face took on a darker
shade of red. He was a coarse-looking man, generously designed and
expensively over-dressed. For a moment I thought he was going to strike
Jonah. Then he caught a heavy underlip in his teeth, turned on his heel,
and strode to the Rolls-Royce.

He cast a proprietor's eye over her points. Then he stepped behind her
as though to come to her other side. The next second he was back and
shaking his fist in Jonah's face.

"So you've had the infernal audacity to alter the number-plates, have
you?" he yelled. "Thought to bluff me, I suppose. You impudent----"

"One moment," said Jonah steadily. "Without looking at the dash, tell me
your chassis number. Your chauffeur should know it."

"One double seven eight," came parrot-wise from the lips of the
gentleman referred to.

"Thank you," said Jonah.

Grey Hat almost ran to the Rolls, tore open the bonnet, and stared at
the dash--stared....

We waited in a silence so charged with expectancy as to be almost
unbearable.

At last the Chief Constable straightened his back. His eyes were bulging
and his face redder than ever. Twice he essayed to speak without
success. Then--

"I said it was my car," said Jonah placidly.

For a moment Grey Hat stood glaring at him. Then, muttering something
about "a mistake," he started to lurch towards the police car. As the
officers turned shamefacedly to follow their chief, Jonah's parade voice
rang out.

"Stop!" At the word of command, master and men alike stood still where
they were. "My friends and I have been openly accused of felony and
threatened with arrest."

The Chief Constable swallowed before replying.

"I was mistaken," he said thickly. "I--I apologize."

"You mean to say you believed that to be your car?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"It's exactly like it."

"There must be some difference."

"There's no difference at all. If mine were here, I'd defy you to tell
them apart."

"Do you seriously suggest that I shouldn't know my own car?"

"I do."

"And that such a mistake on my part would be excusable?"

"Certainly."

"Thank you," said Jonah. "That excusable mistake was made this morning.
My car was stolen and sought for. Your car was found. If you will
accompany me to the stables, I shall be happy to restore it to you at
once."

Grey Hat started forward, his face transfigured with excitement and
relief.

"You mean to say----" he began.

"Come, sir," said Jonah icily. "I feel sure that the ladies will excuse
your withdrawal."

       *       *       *       *       *

It was half an hour later, just when we were finishing tea, that a cry
from Jill made us all turn to follow her gaze down the curling drive.

Twenty paces away was Berry, plodding slowly in our direction, wheeling
a tired-looking bicycle. His clothes were thick with dust, his collar
was like a piece of wet rag, and on his face there was a look of utter
and profound resignation.

As we started to our feet--

"Don't touch me," he said. "I'm leading in the Marathon race. The
conditions are fearful. Competitors are required not only to walk, but
at the same time to propel a bicycle, the hind tire of which must be
deflated. You're only allowed five falls, and I've used four of them."
With a final effort he reached the edge of the lawn and laid the bicycle
gently on its side. "'How we brought the good news from Aix to Ghent,'"
he continued. "Yes, I see the car, but I'm not interested. During the
last five hours my life has been so crowded with incident that there is
no room for anything else. Isn't there a cycling club about here I can
join? I've always fancied a grey sweater."

"Did I hear you say that you had fallen, brother?" said I.

"You did. Four times were these noble limbs prostrated in the dust. The
first time was when the handle-bars came off. Oh, it's a beautiful
machine." Solemnly he waited for the laughter to subside. "But she
doesn't turn easily. If my blood counts, there are at least three
corners in the County that are for ever England. And now will somebody
fetch the Vicar? I shan't last long. And some drinks." He stretched
himself upon the grass. "Several drinks. All together in a large
vessel."

Jill fled, weak with laughter, to execute his commands. Berry proceeded
to remove his collar and tie.

"I can't think," he said suddenly, "why they call them safety bicycles.
I suppose it's because they strike only on the box." He turned to
Daphne. "Since I left you this morning, woman, I have walked with Death.
Oh, more than once. Of course I've walked without him, too. Miles and
miles." He groaned. "I never knew there was so much road."

"Didn't you do any riding?" said Jonah. "I know they're called
push-bikes, but that's misleading. Lots of people ride them. That's what
the saddle's for."

"Foul drain," said my brother-in-law, "your venomous bile pollutes the
crystal flood of my narration. Did I ride? That was the undoing of the
sage. When he recovered consciousness for the second time, it was to
discover that the chain was missing and that the back tire was windless.
In my endeavours to find the chain I lost myself. That reminds me. I
must put an advertisement in _The Times_ to the effect that any one
returning a bicycle-chain to White Ladies will be assaulted. I have no
desire to be reminded of to-day. If anybody had told me you could cover
about fifty miles of open road in England without meeting anything but
road-hogs, who not only failed to stop when I hailed them, but choked
and blinded me with their filthy dust, I should have prayed for his
soul. And not a pub open!"

He stopped to watch with a glistening eye the approach of Jill, bearing
a tankard in one hand and a large jug of some beverage in the other.

"What is it?" he said.

"Shandy-gaff."

"Heaven will reward you, darling, as I shan't." He took a long draught.
"And yet I don't know. I've got an old pair of riding-breeches I don't
want, if they're any use to you."

There was a shriek from Agatha and Jill.

"Is anybody going to church?" said Daphne, consulting her wrist-watch.

Berry choked.

Gravely, I regarded him.

"Run along and change," said I. "And you can return the curate his
bicycle at the same time. Besides, a walk'll do you good."

"Don't tempt me," he replied. "Two hours ago I registered a vow. I shall
drink no water till it is accomplished."

"Let's hear it," said I.

"To offer no violence to a fool for six months," said Berry, refilling
his tankard. "By the way, you'll have to be very careful when you take
off my boots. They're very full of foot this evening." He sank back and
closed his eyes. "You know I never look at the almanac, but before I was
up this morning I knew that this was a blue-letter day."

"How?" said his wife.

"I left a stud within the bath, and heard Jonah find it." He spread out
a dramatic arm.

_"And he thereon did only sit,
  So blind he couldn't see,
And then the fat-head yelled and swore,
  Not at himself, but me."_
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Henrik Ibsen

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