Jonah and Co. by Dornford Yates
CHAPTER IV
HOW BERRY MADE AN ENGAGEMENT, JILL A PICTURE, AND ADELE A SLIP OF SOMEIMPORTANCE
A natural result of our traffic with Planchet was that we becametemporarily suspicious and careful to a fault. The horse had beenstolen. For the next three weeks we locked not only the stable door,but every single door to which a key could be fitted--and sufferedaccordingly. In a word, our convenience writhed. To complete ourdiscomfort, if ever one of us jibbed, the others were sure to lay thelash about his shoulders. The beginning of the end arrived one fineFebruary day.
An early breakfast had made us ready for lunch. As we were taking ourseats--
"Are the cars locked?" said Daphne.
Adele 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 undesirablethoroughfare, instead of in the courtyard of the English Club, if----"
"It's all very well," said Daphne, "but you know what happened to theRolls."
Berry frowned.
"Any reference," he said, "to that distressing incident is bad for myheart." He turned to Jonah. "As for you, you've lodged your protest,which will receive the deepest consideration. I shall dwell upon itduring the soup. And now push off and lock the vehicle. I know Lovelaughs at locksmiths, but the average motor-thief's sense of humour isless susceptible."
When his sister threw her entreaties into the scale, my cousin took theline of least resistance and rose to his feet.
"For converting a qualified blessing into an unqualified curse," hesaid bitterly, "you three alarmists take the complete cracknel. Sincethe locks were fitted, I've done nothing but turn the key from morningtill night. Before the beastly things were thought of, the idea oflarceny never entered your heads."
The indignation with which his words were received would have been morepronounced if we had had the room to ourselves. As it was, Jonah madehis way to the door amid an enraged murmur of expostulation, whosetemper 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 easyabout leaving a car unattended. Yet, though we had often discussed thematter, nothing had been done. Now, however, that we were in a strangecountry, where the tracing of a stolen car would, for a variety ofreasons, be an extremely difficult undertaking, and staying withal onlya handful of miles from the Spanish frontier, we all felt that actionof some sort must be taken without delay.
An attempt to enlist the services of the Sealyham as a custodian hadfailed ignominiously. In the first place, unless fastened, he hadflatly declined to stay with either of the cars. The expedient ofclosing one of these altogether and leaving Nobby within had provedquite as unsatisfactory and more humiliating. Had we been able toeradicate from the dog's mind the conviction that he was beingwrongfully imprisoned, the result might have been different. As itwas, after barking furiously for five minutes, he had recourse toreprisal and, hardly waiting to remove the paper in which it waswrapped, devoured half a kilogramme of ripe Brie with a revengefulvoracity to which the condition of the interior of the car bore hideouswitness. Finally, when the urchin who was in our confidence, and hadengaged for the sum of five francs to endeavour to enter the car,opened its door, the captive leaped out joyously and, after caperingwith delight at his delivery, wiped his mouth enthusiastically upon atire and started on a reconnaissance of the neighbourhood in the hopeof encountering his gaolers. As for the car, our employee might havedriven it into the blue....
In the end, it was decided that a lock attached to the steering-columnwould offer the best security. Accordingly, a device was sent for,fitted to each of the cars, and proved. So far as we could see, therewas no fault in it. Once the key was withdrawn, the car concerned wasuseless. 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 thelist of terrors of motoring, the girls insisted upon the observance ofthe new rite upon every possible occasion. As drivers of longstanding, 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 wehad never done before, whenever we evacuated a car. Often enough, asnow, it was a work of supererogation.
Berry turned to me.
"I observe," he said, "that for once you have not advanced youropinion. Is this because you realise that it's valueless? Or won'tyour mouth work?"
"Jonah was right," said I. "Insurance has its advantages, but youdon't register every letter you post. The truth is, what little senseof proportion you have is failing. Of course you're not as young asyou were, and then, again, you eat too much."
"In other words," said my brother-in-law, "you attribute caution to theadvance of old age and gluttony. I see. To which of your physicalinfirmities do you ascribe a superabundance of treachery and bile?"
"That," said I, "is due to external influence. The sewer-gas of yourtemperament----"
"I refuse," said Berry, "to sit still and hear my soul compared to adrain at the very outset of what promises to be a toothsome repast. Itmight affect my appetite."
I raised my eyebrows.
"Needless anxiety again," I sighed. "I don't know what's the matterwith 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 Adele in horror-stricken tones.
"Fifty-three francs dead. If I'd cashed it yesterday, as, but for yourentreaties, 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'sup. In the second place, I was down--to four francs twenty-five. Inthe 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 themovements of the comic Exchange have nothing to do. It's a law untoitself. Compared with the Money Market of to-day, Monte Carlo's aSunday-school. I admit we'd have more of a show if we didn't get thepaper 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, whydid 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 seethat salt-cellar?"
"Yes," said Jill, staring.
"Well, that represents a dollar. The olive is a franc, and this hereroll is a pound." He cleared his throat. "When the imports exceed theexports, the roll rises"--up went his hand--"as good bread should. Butwhen the exports exceed the imports, or the President backs a winner,or something, then the olive begins to soar. In a word, the higher thefewer."
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, ifyou can't help yourself, it isn't likely you can help me
"Up," said I relentlessly.
"But how can it----"
"Look here," said I. "Imagine that all the francs in the world haveturned 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 isplentiful, 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 yourpurse on the landing."
Adele began to shake with laughter.
"Yes," said Jill earnestly.
"So that the next morning," I continued desperately, "when you come tobuy another pound's worth of herrings, you only get fifty-three."
"That's right," said Berry. "And while you're trying to decide whetherto 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 itagain, and find it's fifty-three. That means it's gone down, doesn'tit?"
"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 Adele--dazedly. Theformer put a hand to her head.
"My dear," she said, "I can't help you. Before they startedexplaining, I had a rough idea of how the thing worked. Now I'mconfused for ever. If they are to be believed, in future we've got tosay '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 hadcome to pay his respects. After a word or two--
"Visitors' weather," he said. "Perfect, isn't it? But, I say, what afall in the franc! Three points in a day.... Never mind. It'll go upagain."
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 offeredthe best they had. To match their gifts, a green and silver earthstrained at the leash of Winter with an eager heart. The valleyssmiled, high places lifted up their heads, the hasty Gave de Pauswirled on its shining way, a laughing sash of snow-broth, and all thecountryside glowed with the cheerful aspect of a well-treated slave.
Wide, straight, and level, the well-built road thrust through thebeaming landscape with a directness that took Distance by the throat.The surface improving as we left Pau behind, I drew on the seven-leagueboots--surreptitiously. Very soon we were flying.... With a steadypurr of contentment, Pong, tuned to a hair, swallowed the flashingmiles so easily that pace was robbed of its sting.
A dot on the soft bullock-walk that edged the road grew with fantasticswiftness into an ox-waggon, loomed for an instant life-size, and wasgone. A speck ahead leapt into the shape of a high-wheeled gig, joggedfor a moment to meet us, and vanished into space. A dolls'-house bythe wayside swelled into a villa ... a chateau ... a memory of tallthin windows ranged in a white wall. The future swooped into thepresent, only to be flicked into the past. The seven-league boots weregetting into their stride.
Then came a level-crossing with the barriers drawn....
For a minute the lady responsible for the obstructions seemed uncertainwhether to withdraw them or no. After a long look up the line,however, she decided against us and shook her head with a benevolentsmile.
"_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, willalways remain a matter for conjecture. We addressed one another formore than twenty minutes, but our possession of the line was disputedeffectively 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'malmost certain that towards the end of our communion she said, 'Oh,hell!' Having regard to the prevailing conditions, she may beforgiven."
Daphne sighed.
"Well, I suppose she expects us," she said. "After all, that's themain 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 myfault. It's no good pretending that 'Wednesday's' a good word toshout, but I made the most of it. I also said 'Woden's Day' with greatclarity, 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 acrossour path....
As the rumble began to die--
"I think," said I, "he must have got 'Wednesday' through. OtherwiseEvelyn would have rung up last night."
Berry drew a case from his pocket and offered me a cigar. Then heturned to my sister and protruded his tongue....
We had known Evelyn Fairie for years. It was natural that we shouldwish to know Evelyn Swetecote. That wedlock could have diminished hercharm was not to be thought of. But we were forgivably curious to seeher in the married state and to make the acquaintance of the man whomshe had chosen out of so many suitors. Little knowing that we were atPau, Evelyn had written to us from Biarritz. In due season her letterhad arrived, coming by way of Hampshire. An answer in the shape of ageneral invitation to lunch had brought not so much a refusal as adefinite counter-proposal that we should suggest a day and come toBiarritz. In reply, the services of the telephone had beenrequisitioned, 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 theroad--my wife and cousins in one car, and Daphne, Berry, and I withinthe 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, orsomething."
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 sofar," I concluded lamely.
But for my sister's presence, I would have told him the truth. Thiswas that I had bet Jonah that I could get from Orthez to Peyrehorade intwenty minutes. The distance was exactly thirty kilometres, and theroad was perfect. There were no corners, and the bends were few.There were hills, certainly; but these were straightforward enough andcould be taken, so to speak, in our stride. Moreover, there were nocross-roads, and only two turnings worth thinking about. To some carsthe feat would have been nothing. Whether it was within the reach ofPing 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 prerogativeof a passenger and protest against the pace. But neither at th
Three kilometres out, there was a bend, and the needle of thespeedometer, which, after rising steadily, had come to rest against thestop, retreated momentarily to record fifty-five.... We sang past awayside farm, dropped into a valley, soared up the opposite side,flashed in and out of an apparently deserted village, shot up a longincline, and slowed up for a curve.... Then some poultry demandedconsideration. As we left them behind, the agitation of two led horsesnecessitated a still further reduction of speed. We lost such time asI had made, and more also. Still, we were going downhill, and, as ifimpatient of the check, the car sprang forward.... We rose from thebottom with the smooth rush of a non-stop elevator. As we breasted therise, I saw another and steeper dale before us. The road was becominga switchback....
At the top of the opposite hill was a big grey cabriolet coming towardsus. At the foot was a panting lorry going our way. An approachingFord was about to pass it. The cabriolet and Pong fell down theirrespective slopes....
The Ford was abreast of the lorry, and the cabriolet was prepared topass the two when we arrived. It was a question of giving way--atleast, 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 arow. I doubt if an ordinary matchbox could have been passed betweenour near-side running-board and that of the cabriolet. I couldcertainly 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 ledhorses, we should have run to time....
Upon one matter we were all agreed, and that was that the driver of thegrey 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 straightforwardrolling nature was maintained: the surface, however, was in tatters....
After ten kilometres of misery, my brother-in-law slowed up andstopped. 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'drather drive on the beach." With that he opened his door. "Oh, andgive me back that cigar."
"Courage," I said, detaining him. "It can't last."
"Pardon me," said Berry, "but it can last for blistering leagues. Iknow 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. Ihave no doubt that there it will be my blithesome duty continually toback a charabanc with a fierce clutch up an interminable equivalent ofthe 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 mostnoticeable."
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 mongerresponsible for including this road among _les grands itineraires_. Ican stand pot-holes, but the remains of a railway platform which mighthave 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 atLife. Incidentally, is this fast enough for you? Or are your liversstill sluggish?"
"I think," said I, nodding at a huge pantechnicon, "that we might passthe furniture."
I know no horn whose note is at once so compelling and offensive asthat of the usher with which Pong was equipped. I know no din at onceso obliterative and brain-shaking as that induced by the passage of aFrench pantechnicon, towed at a high speed over an abominable road.That the driver of the tractor failed to hear our demand was notremarkable. That he should have elected to sway uncertainly along thevery crown of the road was most exasperating....
Three times did Berry essay to push by; three times at the criticalmoment did the tractor lurch drunkenly across our bows; and three timesdid Pong fall back discomfited. The dust, the reek, the vibration, thepandemonium, were combining to create an atmosphere worthy of a placein the Litany. One's senses were cuffed and buffeted almost to astandstill. I remember vaguely that Daphne was clinging to my arm,wailing that "it was no good." I know I was shouting. Berry washowling 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 andwrenched it round, at the same time opening the throttle as wide as Idared. I fancy we took the corner on two wheels. As we did so, a paleblue racer streaked by our tail-lamp with the roar of an avalanche.
When Daphne announced that, if she reached Biarritz alive, she shoulddrive 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 beforesix, the servants say."
* * * * *
Black as was the evidence against him, my brother-in-law stoutlyrefused to be held responsible for the affair. All the way to theHotel du Palais he declared violently that the engagement had been welland truly made, and that if Evelyn and her husband chose to forget allabout it, that was no fault of his. Finally, when Jonah suggested thatafter luncheon we should return to the villa and inquire whether we hadindeed been expected the day before, he assented with disconcertingalacrity. As we passed into the restaurant--
"And I'll do the interrogating," he concluded. "I don't want any ofyour leading questions. 'I quite expect we were expected yesterday,weren't we?' All sweet and slimy, with a five-franc note in the middledistance."
"How dare you?" said Daphne. "Besides, I'd be only too relieved tofind it was their mistake."
"Blow your relief," replied her husband. "What about my bleedingheart?"
"I'm not much of a physician," said I, "but there's some cold stuffedvenison on the sideboard. I don't know whether that, judiciouslyadministered...."
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-lawexplained the position and desired permission to enter and write anote. This was granted forthwith.
My sister and I followed him into a pleasant salon meekly enough. Whenhe 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 uswould have been bad enough, but to be actually absent from home....Well, as Wordsworth says, that's bent it._
&n
_But that is nothing._
_To bless your married life, I have hustled a valuable internalcombustion engine over one of the vilest roads in Europe, twice riskeda life, the loss of which would, as you know, lower half the flags inBethnal Green, and postponed many urgent and far more deserving callsupon my electric personality. I was, for instance, to have had my haircut._
_Worse._
_Upon hearing of your absence, the unnatural infidel above referred tocharged this to my account. As is my humble wont, I bent my head tothe storm, strong in the fearless confidence that France is France, andthat, 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 justoff to find a suitable and sheltered grove, within sound of theAtlantic, where I may spend an hour in meditation. Thirdly, I live forothers._
_Jonah wants to know if your husband can play golf. He does, ofcourse. 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 tobe prosecuted. Driving about the country like a drunken hornet.Mercifully we were crawling. Otherwise ... I tell you, it made myb-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 theAtlantic, the soft sweet atmosphere showed us a side of Biarritz whichwe should have been sorry to miss. By rights, if music and perfumehave any power, we should have fallen asleep. The air, however,prevented us. Here was an inspiriting lullaby--a sleeping-draughtlaced with cordial. We plucked the fruit from off the Tree ofDrowsiness, ate it, and felt refreshed. Repose went by the board. Weleft 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 becomedesirable. Remembering this, I did as Berry and Jonah weredoing--stared straight ahead and hoped very hard that she was notspeaking to me.
"Boy!"
"Yes, dear?"
"D'you think you could...?"
By the time I had torn my trousers, strained my right shoulder, swornthree times, and ruined the appearance of my favourite brogues, theothers were out of sight.
"Thanks awfully, Boy. You are good to me. And that'll look lovely inthe 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 mypipe, and we strolled forward.
A country walk with Jill is never dull.
To do the thing comfortably, you should be followed by a file ofpioneers in marching order, a limbered waggon, and a portable pond.Before we had covered another two hundred yards, I had collected threemore sprays, two ferns, and a square foot of moss--the latter, much tothe irritation of its inhabitants, many of whom refused to evacuatetheir homes and therefore accompanied us. I drew the line at frogs, onthe score of cruelty to animals, but when we met one about the size ofa postage stamp, it was a very near thing. Finally, against my advice,my cousin stormed a bank, caught her foot in an invisible wire, andfell flat upon her face.
"There now!" I cried testily, dropping our spoils and scrambling to herassistance.
"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. Hesays 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 silkstockings. It fell, perhaps, one inch below her knees. For a momentshe regarded the result. Then she looked up at me and put her head onone 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 tumbledabout 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 inall 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 pastthe 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 graveeyes held mine expectantly. The stars in them seemed upon the edge ofdancing. Her heightened colour, the poise of her shapely head, theparted lips lent to that exquisite face the air of an elf. All thesweet grace of a child was welling out of her maidenhood. Herapple-green frock fitted the form of a shepherdess. Her pretty greylegs and tiny feet were those of a fairy. Its very artlessness trebledthe attraction of her pose. Making his sudden way between the boughs,the sun flung a warm bar of light athwart her white throat and thefallen curl. Nature was honouring her darling. It was the accolade.
I could have sworn that behind me somebody breathed "Madonna!" butalthough 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 muchtoo sweet altogether. Something'll have to be done about it. You'llbe 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 momentshe stared at the reflection. "I don't think I look very nice," sheadded gravely. "However..." She kissed me abstractedly and started tofix 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 slipof 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.
Adele was awaiting us with Ping.
As soon as we saw her--
"Good Heavens!" cried Jill. "I quite forgot you were married. Youought to have been with Adele." She ran to the car. "Adele darling,what do you think of me?"
"I am blind," said Adele, "with jealousy. Anyone would be. And nowjump in. Berry has taken the others to look at La Barre, and we're tofollow them."
Such of the landscape as I was bearing was thereupon bestowed in theboot, I followed my cousin into the car, and a few minutes later wewere at the mouth of the Adour. Here we left Ping beside Pong, andproceeded to join three figures on the horizon, apparently absorbed inthe temper of a fretful sea.
As we tramped heavily over the shingle--
"You're not cross with me, Adele?"
"Why should I be, darling?"
"Well, you see," panted Jill, "I've known him so long, and he's stillso exactly the same, that I can't always remember----"
"That he's not your property?" said my wife. "But he is, and alwayswill be."
Jill looked at her gravely.
"But he's yours," she sai
Adele laughed lightly.
"Subjects marry, of course," she said, smiling, "but they've only onequeen."
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 goingto. 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. "Justlook 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 theroller, the reminiscence was lost.
It was certainly a magnificent spectacle.
There was a heavy sea running, and the everlasting battle between theriver and the Atlantic was being fought with long swift spasms ofunearthly fury. Continually recurring, shock, mellay and rallyoverlapped, attack and repulse were inextricably mingled, the verylulls 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 breezeabetting them, the gigantic waves crashed upon it with a concussionthat shook the air. All the royal rage of Ocean seemed to beconcentrated on this little prominence. The latter's indifferenceappeared to aggravate its assailant. Majesty was in a tantrum.
With the exception of Berry, we could have watched the display till, asthey say, the cows come home. My brother-in-law, however, feltdifferently. The wind was offending him.
After a violent denunciation of this element--
"Besides," he added, "we ought to be getting back. It's nearlyhalf-past three, and if we're to avoid the playground of the Tanks andreturn by Bidache, we shall be longer upon the road."
"Well, you go on," said Daphne. "Ask Adele nicely, first, if she'lltake 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 Adele 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 unexpectedlyhard. The map insisted that we should essay a dark entry, by the sideof which a forbidding notice-board dared us to come on.... Adele and Ipored over the print, while out of our bickering Berry plucked suchinstructions as his fancy suggested, and, alternately advancing andretiring, cruised to and fro about a gaunt church. After a while webegan to ask people, listen carefully to their advice, thank themeffusively, and then demonstrate to one another that they werecertainly ignorant and probably hostile.
At length--
"How many times," inquired Berry, "did they walk round Jericho beforethe walls went?"
"Thirteen, I think," said Adele. "Why?"
"Oh, nothing," was the reply. "Only, if you aren't quick, we shallhave 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, Adele and I fought for the map.... A suddenlurch to the left flung us into the corner, whence, before we hadrecovered our equilibrium, a violent swerve to the right returned uspell-mell. At last, in response to our menaces, Berry slowed up beforea sign-post.
Its legend was plain.
BRISCOUS 10
We stared at it in silence. Then we stared at one another. Finally westared at Berry. The latter spread out his hands and shrugged hisshoulders.
"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 swampupon an empty stomach. They tried him once, for fun, at agarden-party. Nobody could understand the host's uneasiness until,amid a scene of great excitement, my uncle found the cesspool under therefreshment marquee."
Eventually we persuaded him to proceed.
For a while the going was poor, but after we had passed Briscous allcause for complaint vanished. Not only was the surface of the road asgood as new, but the way itself, was winsome. The main road toPeyrehorade could not compare with it. At every twist and turn--andthere were many--some fresh attraction confronted us. The countryside,shy of the great highways, crept very close. We slipped up lanes, ranside by side with brooks, brushed by snug cottages. Dingles made boldto 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 thepatent: and then, again, Time can be kind to the dead. What Death hadgiven, 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. Thegrave beauty of the place was haunting. We passed on reluctantly....
A quarter of an hour later we ran into Peyrehorade.
Here Adele relieved my brother-in-law and, encouraged by the promise ofa 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. Ifwe'd lunched with Evelyn, we should have missed that venison, and ifthe main road hadn't been vile, we should have missed Bidache. Indeed,provided no anti-climax is furnished by the temperature of thebath-water, I think we may congratulate ourselves."
Adele 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 toforget. And now you must come over to us instead. Falcon insistedthat 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 ourhearts 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-weathercoupe. They went by us to-day like a flash of lightning. Fortunatelywe were going dead slow, so it was all right. But they ought to bestopped._
The second was from Jonah.
As rendered by Falcon, it ran:--
"Captain Mansel's compliments, sir, and, as Mrs. Adele Pleydell was thelast to drive Ping, 'e thinks _she must 'ave 'is key_.... And asLove's the honly thing as laughs at locksmiths, sir, will you kindlyreturn this forthwith.... I asked Captain Mansel where 'e'd like youto 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 whisperingabove the rush of the tires.... 'Madonna!'.... 'Madonna!'...