Jonah and Co. Page 12

  CHAPTER XI

  HOW BERRY PUT OFF HIS MANHOOD, AND ADELE SHOWED A FAIR PAIR OF HEELS

  But for Susan, I should not have seen the Chateau, and, but for themerest accident, we should not have revisited Gavarnie. And that wouldhave been a great shame.

  It was the day before we were spared this lasting reproach that mybrother-in-law stood stiffly before a pier-glass in his wife'sbed-chamber. Deliberately Berry surveyed himself.

  We stood about him with twitching lips, not daring to trust our tones.

  At length--

  "But what a dream!" said my brother-in-law. "What an exquisite,pluperfect dream!" Jill shut her eyes and began to shake withlaughter. "I suppose it was made to be worn, or d'you think someonedid it for a bet? 'A Gentleman of the Court of Louis XIV.' Well, Isuppose a French firm ought to know. Only, if they're right, I don'twonder there was a revolution. No self-respecting nation could hold upits head with a lot of wasters shuffling about Versailles with theseats of their breeches beginning under their hocks. That one sleeveis three inches shorter than the other and that the coat wouldcomfortably fit a Boy Scout, I pass over. Those features might beattributed to the dictates of fashion. But I find it hard to believethat even in that fantastic age a waistcoat like a loose cover everreally obtained."

  Adele sank into a chair and covered her eyes.

  With an effort I mastered my voice.

  "I think, perhaps," I ventured, "if you wore them for an hour or two,they might--might shake down. You see," I continued hurriedly, "you'renot accustomed----"

  "Brother," said Berry gravely, "you've got it in one. I'm notaccustomed to wearing garments such as these. I confess I feel strangein them. Most people who are not deformed would. If I hadn't got anythighs, if my stomach measurement was four times that of my chest, andI'd only one arm, they'd be just about right. As it is, short ofmutilation----"

  "Can't you brace up the breeches a little higher?" said Daphne.

  "No, I can't," snapped her husband. "As it is, my feet are nearly offthe ground."

  Seated upon the bed, Jonah rolled over upon his side and gave himselfup to a convulsion of silent mirth.

  "The sleeves and the waistcoat," continued my sister, "are nothing.Adele and I can easily alter them. What worries me is the breeches."

  "They'd worry you a damned sight more if you had 'em on," said Berry."And if you think I'm going to wear this little song-without-words,even as amended by you and Adele, you're simply unplaced. To say Iwouldn't be seen dead in it conveys nothing at all."

  "My dear boy," purred Daphne, "be reasonable. It's far too late to gethold of anything else: it's the ball of the season, and fancy dress is_de rigueur_. I'm sure if you would only brace up----"

  With an unearthly shriek, Berry collapsed in my arms.

  "Take her away!" he roared. "Take her away before I offer herviolence. Explain my anatomy. Tell her I've got a trunk. Concealnothing. Only...."

  Amid the explosion of pent-up laughter, the rest of the sentence waslost.

  As soon as we could speak coherently, we endeavoured to smooth him down.

  At length--

  "It's transparently plain," said Jonah, "that that dress is out of thequestion." Here he took out his watch. "Let's see. It's now threeo'clock. That gives us just seven hours to conceive and execute someother confection. It shouldn't be difficult."

  "Now you're talking," said Berry. "I know. I'll go as a mahout. Now,that's easy. Six feet of butter muslin, four pennyworth of woad, and aharpoon. And we can lock the elephant's switch and park him in therhododendrons."

  "Why," said Jonah, "shouldn't you go as Mr. Sycamore Tight? You're notunlike him, and the excitement would be intense."

  After a little discussion we turned the suggestion down.

  For all that, it was not without merit.

  Mr. Sycamore Tight was wanted--wanted badly. There was a price uponhis head. Two days after he had landed in France, a large Americanbank had discovered good reason to believe that Mr. Tight hadpersonally depleted its funds to the tune of over a million.

  Daily, for the last four days, the gentleman's photograph had appearedin every French paper, illustrating a succinct and compellingadvertisement, which included a short summary of his characteristicsand announced the offer of a reward of fifty thousand francs for suchinformation as should lead to his arrest.

  The French know the value of money.

  If the interest excited at Pau was any criterion, every French soul inFrance went about his business with bulging eyes. Indeed, if Mr.Sycamore Tight were yet in the country, there was little doubt in mostminds that his days were numbered.

  "No," said Berry. "It's very nice to think that I look so much likethe brute, but I doubt if a check suit quite so startling as that heseems to have affected could be procured in time. Shall I go asMarat--on his way to the bath-room? With a night-shirt, a flannel, anda leer, I should be practically there. Oh, and a box of matches tolight the geyser with."

  "I suppose," said Daphne, "you wouldn't go as a clown? Adele and Icould do that easily. The dress is nothing."

  "Is it, indeed?" said her husband. "Well, that would be simplicityitself, wouldn't it? A trifle classical, perhaps, but most arresting.What a scene there'd be when I took off my overcoat. 'Melancholy'would be almost as artless. I could wear a worried look, and there youare."

  "Could he go as a friar?" said Jill. "You know. Like a monk, only notso gloomy. We ought to be able to get a robe easily. And, if wecouldn't get sandals, he could go barefoot."

  "That's right," said Berry. "Don't mind me. You just fix everythingup, and tell me in time to change. Oh, and you might write down a fewcrisp blessings. I shall get tired of saying '_Pax vobiscum_' whenanyone kicks my feet."

  "I tell you what," said Adele. "Would you go as 'a flapper'?"

  "A what?" said my brother-in-law.

  "'A twentieth-century miss,'" said Adele. "'The golf girl,' if youlike. Daphne and I can fit you out, and you can wear your own shoes.As for a wig--any _coiffeur_'ll do. A nice fluffy bobbed one would bebest--the same shade as your moustache."

  Instinctively none of us spoke.

  The idea was so admirable--the result would be so triumphant, that wehardly dared to breathe lest Berry should stamp upon our hopes.

  For one full slow-treading minute he fingered his chin....

  Then he wrinkled his nose.

  "Not 'The Golf Girl,'" he said. "That's much too pert. I couldn'tdeliver the goods. No. I must go as something more luscious. Whatabout 'The Queen of the May'?"

  * * * * *

  At twenty-five minutes to ten that evening I was writing a note, andwondering, while I did so, whether the original 'Incroyables' ever satdown.

  I had just decided that, rather than continually risk dislocation ofthe knee, they probably either reclined or leaned against pillars whenfatigued, when something impelled me to glance over my shoulder.

  Framed in the doorway was standing Berry.

  A frock of pale pink georgette, with long bell-shaped sleeves and ablack velvet girdle knotted at one side, fitted him seemingly like aglove. A large Leghorn hat, its black velvet streamers fastenedbeneath his chin, heavily weighted with a full-blown rose over one eye,threatened to hide his rebellious mop of hair. White silk stockingsand a pair of ordinary pumps completed his attire. A miniature apron,bearing the stencilled legend 'AN ENGLISH ROSE' upon its muslin, leftno doubt about his identity.

  Beneath my gaze he looked down and simpered, swinging his bead bagridiculously.

  I leaned back in my chair and began to laugh like a madman. Then Iremembered my knee-caps, and got up and leaned against the wall, whenceI could see him better.

  As if his appearance alone were not enough, he spoke in an absurdfalsetto.

  "No, I'm not supposed to be out till after Easter. But don't let thatstop you. I mean--you know I do say such dreadful things, and all thetime.... Fath
er always calls me a tom-cat--I mean, tom-boy, but Idon't care. Haven't you any sisters? What not even a 'step'? Oh, butwhat luck--I mean, I think we'll sit this one out, shall I? I know alovely place--in the inspection pit. I often go and sit there when Iwant to have a good fruity drink--I mean, think. I always think it'sso wonderful to look up and see the gear-box, and the differential, andthe dear old engine-shield and feel you're alone with themall--absolutely alone...."

  The tempestuous arrival of Adele, looking sweet as "Pierrette," andJonah in the traditional garb of "Harlequin," cut short the soliloquy...

  It was ere the two had recovered from their first paroxysm of laughterthat Berry minced to the fireplace and, with the coyest of pecks, rangthe electric bell.

  A moment later Falcon entered the room.

  My brother-in-law laughed and looked down, fingering his dress.

  "Oh, Falcon," he said archly, "about to-morrow. I don't know whetherMrs. Pleydell's told you, but there'll be four extra to lunch."

  I have seen Falcon's eyes twinkle, and I have seen his mouthwork--times without number. I have seen him thrust a decanter upon thesideboard and disappear shaking from the apartment. But never beforehave I seen his self-control crumple as a ripped balloon.

  For a second he stared at the speaker.

  Then he flung us one desperate, appealing glance, emitted a short wail,and, looking exactly as if he was about to burst into tears, clappedboth hands to his mouth and made a rush for the door.

  As he reached it, a little Dutch Jill danced into the room, lookingadorable.

  Use holds.

  Falcon straightened his back, stepped to one side, and bowed hisapologies. The temporary check, however, was his undoing. As Jillflashed by, he turned his face to the wall and sobbed like a child....

  When Daphne made her appearance, amazingly beautiful as 'JehaneSaint-Pol,' we climbed into the cars and slipped down the sober driveinto the fragrant dalliance of an April night.

  * * * * *

  The ball was over.

  It would have been a success any way, but from the moment that Berryhad, upon arrival, been directed to the ladies' cloak-room, itsenduring fame had been assured.

  When, with my wife and sister, reluctant and protesting, upon eitherarm, he erupted into the ballroom, giggling excitedly and crying "Votesfor Women!" in a shrill treble, even the band broke down, so that themusic died an untimely and tuneless death. When he danced a Tango withme, wearing throughout an exalted expression of ineffable bliss andintroducing a bewildering variety of unexpected halts, crouchings andsaggings of the knees--when, in the midst of an interval, he cameflying to Daphne, calling her "Mother," insisting that he had beeninsulted, demanding to be taken home forthwith, and finally burying hisface in her shoulder and bursting into tears--when, during supper, witha becoming diffidence, he took his stand upon a chair and said a fewwords about his nursing experiences in Mesopotamia and spoke withemotion of the happy hours he had spent as a Sergeant-Minor of theWomen Police--then it became manifest that my brother-in-law'sconstruction of the laws of hospitality had set up such a new record ofgenerosity as few, if any, of those present would ever see broken.

  "... Oh, and the flies, you know. The way they flew. Oh, it wasdreadful. And, of course, no lipstick would stick. My dears, I wassimply terrified to look in the biscuit box. And then we had to washin bits--so embarrassing. Talk about divisional reserve.... And theywere so strict with it all. Only ten little minutes late on parade,and you got it where auntie wore the gew-gaws. I lost my temper once.To be sworn at like a golf-sphere, just because one day I couldn't findmy _Poudre d'Amour_.... And, when he'd quite finished, the Colonelasked me what powder was for. I just looked round and gave him some ofhis own back. 'To dam your pores with,' I said...."

  It was past three o'clock before our departure was sped.

  Comfortably weary, we reached our own villa's door to make the grislydiscovery that no one had remembered the key....

  There was no knocker: a feeble electric bell signalled out distress toa deserted basement: the servants were asleep upon the second floor.

  After we had all reviled Berry and, in return, been denounced as 'agang of mut-jawed smoke-stacks,' accused of 'blasphemy' and compared to'jackals and vultures about a weary bull,' we began to shout and throwstones at the second-floor windows. Perhaps because their shutterswere closed, our labour was lost.

  To complete our disgust, for some mysterious reason Nobby refused tobark and so sound the alarm. In the ordinary way the Sealyham was usedto give tongue--whatever the hour and no matter what indignation hemight excite--upon the slightest provocation. This morning weperambulated the curtilage of the villa, alternately yelling likedemoniacs and mewing like cats, without the slightest result.

  Eventually it was decided that one of us must effect an entrance byclimbing on to the balcony of my sister's room....

  Jonah had a game leg: the inflexibility of my pantaloons put anyacrobatics out of the question: Berry's action, at any rate, was morethan usually unrestricted. Moreover, it was Berry whom we had expectedto produce the key.

  It became necessary to elaborate these simple facts, and to indicatemost definitely the moral which they were pointing, before mybrother-in-law was able to grasp the one or to appreciate the other.And when it had been, as they say, borne in upon him that he was forthe high jump, another ten minutes were wasted while he made one final,frantic, solitary endeavour to attract the servants' attention. Hisfeminine personality discarded, he raved about the house, barking,screeching and braying to beat the band; he thundered upon the doorwith his fists; he flung much of the drive in the direction of thesecond floor. Finally, when we were weak with laughter, he sat downupon the steps, expressed his great satisfaction at the reception ofhis efforts to amuse, and assured us that his death-agony, which weshould shortly witness, would be still more diverting.

  By now it was a quarter to four, and, so soon as Jonah and I couldcontrol our emotion, we took our deliverer by the arms and showed him'the best way up.'

  He listened attentively.

  At length--

  "Thanks very much," he said weakly. "Let's just go over it again,shall I? Just to be sure I've got it cold. First, I swarm up thatpillar. Good. I may say I never have swarmed. I never knew anybodydid swarm, except bees or people coming out of a football match. Nevermind. Then I get hold of the gutter and draw myself up with my hands,while continuing to swarm with my legs. If--if the gutter will standmy weight.... Of course, that's easily ascertained. I just try it.If it will, it does. If it won't, I should like a penny-in-the-slotmachine erected in my memory outside the English Club. Yes, I've gotthat. Well, if it will, I work--I think you said 'work'--round until Ican reach the down-pipe. The drain--down-pipe will enable me to get myfeet into the gutter. Sounds all right, doesn't it? 'The drain-pipewill enable.' A cryptic phrase. Quite the Brigade-Office touch.Where were we? Oh, yes. The drain-pipe having enabled me, etc., Ijust fall forward on to the tiles, when my hands will encounter andgrasp the balustrade. Then I climb over and pat Nobby. Yes, exceptfor the cesspool--I mean the drain-pipe--interlude, it's too easy."

  We helped him off with his coat....

  We watched his reduction of the pillar with trembling lips; we heardhis commentary upon gutters and those who make them with shakingshoulders; but it was when, with one foot in the air and the otherwedged behind the down-pipe, the English Rose spoke of the uncertaintyof life and inquired if we believed in Hell--when, after an exhaustingand finally successful effort to get his left knee into the gutter, hefirst knelt upon a spare tile to his wounding and then found that hisright foot was inextricably wedged between the down-pipe and thewall--when, as a result of his struggles, a section of the down-pipecame away in his hand, so that he was left clinging to the gutter withone foot in the air and twelve feet of piping swaying in his arms--thenour control gave way and we let ourselves run before a tempest ofHomeric laughter. We clasp
ed one another; we leaned against walls; westamped upon the ground; we fought for breath; tears streamed from oureyes. All the time, in a loud militant voice, Berry spoke of buildingand architects and mountain goats, of France and of the French, ofincitement to suicide, of inquests and the law, of skunks and leprosy,and finally of his descent....

  When we told him tearfully to drop, he let out the laugh of a maniac.

  "Yes," he said uncertainly. "To tell you hell-hounds the truth, thatsolution had already occurred to me. It's been occurring to me vividlyever since I began. But I'm against it. It isn't that I'm afraid, butI want something more difficult. Oh, and don't say, 'Work round thegutter,' first, because it's bad English, and, secondly, because no manborn of woman could 'work round' this razor-edged conduit with ahundredweight of drain-pipe round his neck. What I want is a definiteinstruction which is neither murderous nor futile. Burn it, you handedme enough slush when I was rising. Why the hell can't you slobber outsomething to help me down?"

  By the time his descent was accomplished, it was past fouro'clock--summer time--and there was a pale cast about the sweetmoonlight that told of the coming of another dawn.

  "I say," said Jill suddenly, "don't let's go to bed."

  "No, don't let's," said Berry, with a hysterical laugh. "Let's--let'sabsolutely refuse."

  Jill went on breathlessly--

  "Let's go for a run towards Lourdes and see the sun rise over themountains."

  Our first impulse was to denounce the idea. Upon examination, however,its hidden value emerged.

  We were sick and tired of trying to wake the servants; to effect anentrance was seemingly out of the question; to spend another two hourswandering about the garden or wooing slumber in the cars was not at allto our liking.

  Finally, we decided that, since we should be back before the worldproper was astir, our appearance, if it was noticed at all, would butafford a few peasants an experience which they could relate with relishfor many years, and that, since the sky was cloudless, so convenient anoccasion of observing a very famous effect should not be rejected.

  Five minutes later Ping and Pong slid silently under the Pont Oscar II.and so down a winding hill, out of the sleeping town and on to theBizanos road.

  Our headlights were powerful, the road was not too bad, and the worldwas empty...

  I let Jonah, who was leading, get well away, and then gave the car herhead.

  Well as we knew it, our way seemed unfamiliar.

  We saw the countryside as through a glass darkly. A shadowy file ofpoplars, a grey promise of meadowland, a sable thicket, far in thedistance a great blurred mass rearing a sombre head, a chain of silentvillages seemingly twined about our road, and once in a long while thebroad, brave flash of laughing water--these and their ghostly like madeup our changing neighbourhood. Then came a link in the chain that evenWizard Night could not transfigure--sweet, storied Coarraze, fencingour way with its peculiar pride of church and state; three miles ahead,hoary Betharram, defender of the faith, lent us its famous bridge--atthe toll of a break-neck turn, of which no manner of moonshine cancheat the memory.

  We were nearing Lourdes now, but there was no sign of Jonah. I beganto wonder whether my cousin was faring farther afield....

  It was so.

  Lourdes is a gate-house of the Pyrenees; it was clear that my sisterand cousins had threaded its echoing porch. Their way was good enoughfor us. We swung to the right, dived into and out of the sleepingtown, and flung up the pale, thin road that heads for Spain....

  It was when we had slipped through Argeles, and Jonah was still beforeus, that we knew that if we would catch him we must climb to Gavarnie.

  The daylight was waxing now, and when we came to Pierrefitte I switchedoff the lights.

  There is a gorge in the mountains some seven miles long. It is, Ithink, Nature's boudoir. Its tall, steep walls are hung withfoliage--a trembling, precious arras, which spring will so emblazonwith her spruce heraldry that every blowing rod breathes a refreshingmadrigal. Its floor is a busy torrent--fretting its everlasting way bywet, grey rocks, the vivid green of ferns, and now and again a littlepatch of greensward--a tender lawn for baby elves to play on. Here isa green shelf, ladies, stuck all with cowslips; and there,another--radiant with peering daffodils. In this recess sweet violetsgrow. Look at that royal gallery; it is fraught with crocuses--ladenwith purple and gold. Gentians and buttercups, too, have their ownnurseries. But one thing more--this gorge is full of fountains. Theyare its especial glory. All the beauty in the world of falling wateris here exhibited. Tremendous falls go thundering: long, slendertresses of water plunge from a dizzy height, lose by the way theirsymmetry, presently vanish into sparkling smoke; cascades, with adelicate flourish, leap from ledge to ledge; stout heads of crystalwell bubbling out of Earth; elegant springs flash musically into theirbrimming basins of the living rock. The mistress of this shining courtis very beautiful. A bank is overhanging a little bow-shaped dell, asthe eaves of an old house lean out to shelter half a pavement. Aseaves, too, are thatched, so the brown bank is clad with emerald moss.From the edge of the moss dangles a silver fringe. Each gleaming,twisted cord of it hangs separate and distinct, save when a breath ofwind plaits two or three into a transient tassel. The fringe is thewaterfall.

  Enchanted with such a fairyland, we lingered so long over our passagethat we only reached Gavarnie with a handful of moments to spare.

  As we had expected, here were the others, a little apart from the car,their eyes lifted to the ethereal terraces of the majestic Cirque.

  The East was afire with splendour. All the blue dome of sky wasblushing. Only the Earth was dull.

  Suddenly the topmost turret of the frozen battlements burst into rosyflame....

  One by tremendous one we saw the high places of the world suffer theirKing's salute. Little wonder that, witnessing so sublime a ceremony,we forgot all Time....

  The sudden clack of shutters flung back against a wall brought us toearth with a jar.

  We turned in the direction of the noise.

  From the window of a cottage some seventy paces away a woman wasregarding us steadily....

  We re-entered the cars with more precipitation than dignity.

  A glance at the clock in the dashboard made my heart sink.

  A quarter past six--summer time.

  It was clear that Gavarnie was lazy. Argeles, Lourdes, and the restmust be already bustling. Long ere we could reach Pau, the business oftown and country would be in full swing....

  The same reflection, I imagine, had bitten Jonah, for, as I let in theclutch, Ping swept past us and whipped into the village with a lowsnarl.

  Fast as we went, we never saw him again that memorable morning. Jonahmust have gone like the wind.

  As for us, we wasted no time.

  We leapt through the village, dropped down the curling pass, snarledthrough Saint-Sauveur, left Luz staring, and sailed into Argeles as itwas striking seven.

  From Argeles to Lourdes is over eight miles. It was when we hadcovered exactly four of these in six minutes that the engine stuttered,sighed, and then just fainted away.

  We had run out of petrol.

  This was annoying, but not a serious matter, for there was a can on thestep. The two gallons it was containing would easily bring us to Pau.

  What was much more annoying and of considerable moment was that thecan, when examined, proved to be dry as a bone.

  After a moment's consideration of the unsavoury prospect, so suddenlyunveiled, I straightened my back, pushed my ridiculous hat to the napeof my neck, and took out a cigarette-case.

  Adele and Berry stared.

  "That's right," said the latter bitterly. "Take your blinking time.Why don't you sit down on the bank and put your feet up?"

  I felt for a match.

  Finger to lip, Adele leaned forward.

  "For Heaven's sake," she cried, "don't say there's none in the can!"

  "My darling," said I, "
you've spoken the naked truth."

  There was a long silence. The gush of a neighbouring spring wassuggesting a simple peace we could not share.

  Suddenly--

  "Help!" shrieked the English Rose. "Help! I'm being compromised."

  So soon as we could induce him to hold his tongue, a council was held.

  Presently it was decided that I must return to Argeles, if possible,procure a car, and bring some petrol back as fast as I could. Alreadythe day was growing extremely hot, and, unless I encountered a driverwho would give me a lift, it seemed unlikely that I should be backwithin an hour and a half.

  We had, of course, no hope of salvation. Help that arrived now wouldbe too late. Lourdes would be teeming. The trivial round of Pau wouldbe in full blast. The possible passage of another car would spareus--me particularly--some ignominy, but that was all.

  It was arranged that, should a car appear after I had passed out ofsight, the driver should be accosted, haply deprived of petrol, andcertainly dispatched in my pursuit.

  Finally we closed Pong, and, feeling extremely self-conscious andunpleasantly hot, I buttoned my overcoat about me and set out forArgeles.

  The memory of that walk will stay with me till I die.

  If, a few hours before, I had been satisfied that 'Incroyables' seldomsat down, I was soon in possession of most convincing evidence that,come what might, they never did more than stroll. The pantaloons,indeed, curtailed every pace I took. It also became painfully obviousthat their 'foot-joy' was intended for use only upon tiled pavements orparquet, and since the surface of the road to Argeles was bearing acloser resemblance to the bed of a torrent, I suffered accordingly.What service their headgear in any conceivable circumstances could haverendered, I cannot pretend to say. As a protection from the rays ofthe sun, it was singularly futile....

  Had I been wearing flannels, I should have been sweltering in a quarterof an hour. Dressed as I was, I was streaming with honest sweat inless than five minutes.... Before I had covered half a mile I tore offmy overcoat and flung it behind a wall.

  My reception at the first hamlet I reached was hardly promising.

  The honour of appreciating my presence before anyone else fell to apair of bullocks attached to a wain piled high with wood and proceedingslowly in the direction of Lourdes.

  Had they perceived an apparition shaking a bloody goad, they could nothave acted with more concerted or devastating rapidity.

  In the twinkling of an eye they had made a complete _volte-face_, thewaggon was lying on its side across the fairway, and its burden of logshad been distributed with a dull crash upon about a square perch ofcobbles.

  Had I announced my coming by tuck of drum, I could not have attractedmore instant and faithful attention.

  Before the explosion of agony with which the driver--till then walking,as usual, some thirty paces in rear--had greeted the catastrophe, hadturned into a roaring torrent of abuse, every man, woman, and childwithin earshot came clattering upon the scene.

  For a moment, standing to one side beneath the shelter of a flight ofsteps, I escaped notice. It was at least appropriate that the lucklesswaggoner should have been the first to perceive me....

  At the actual moment of observation he was at once indicating thedisposition of his wood with a gesture charged with the savage despairof a barbaric age and letting out a screech which threatened to curdlethe blood.

  The gesture collapsed. The screech died on his lips.

  With dropped jaw and bulging eyes, the fellow backed to the wall....When I stepped forward, he put the waggon between us.

  I never remember so poignant a silence.

  Beneath the merciless scrutiny of those forty pairs of eyes I seemed totouch the very bottom of abashment.

  Then I lifted my ridiculous hat and cleared my throat.

  "Good day," I said cheerfully, speaking in French. "I'm on my way backfrom a ball--a fancy-dress ball--and my car has run out of petrol. Iwant to hire a cart to go to Argeles."

  If I had said I wanted to hire a steam-yacht, my simple statement couldnot have been more apathetically received....

  Happily, for some unobvious reason, no one seemed to associate me withthe bullocks' waywardness, but it took me ten minutes' cajolery toelicit the address of a peasant who might hire me a cart.

  At last I was told his lodging and pointed the way.

  Such direction proved supererogatory, first, because we all moved offtogether, and, secondly, because it subsequently transpired that thegentleman whom I was seeking was already present. But that is France.

  Upon arrival at his house my friend stepped out of the ruck and, withthe utmost composure, asked if it was true that I was desiring to bedriven to Argeles. Controlling my indignation, I replied with equalgravity that such was my urgent ambition. Taking a wrist-watch from mypocket, I added that upon reaching a garage at Argeles, I would deductthe time we had taken from half an hour and cheerfully give him a francfor every minute that was left.

  I can only suppose that so novel a method of payment aroused hissuspicion.

  Be that as it may, with an apologetic bow, the fellow requested to seethe colour of my money.

  Then and then only did I remember that I had not a brass farthing uponmy person.

  What was worse, I felt pretty sure that Adele and Berry were equallypenniless...

  My exit from that village I try to forget.

  I found that the waters of humiliation were deeper than I could havebelieved. They seemed, in fact, bottomless.

  It is, perhaps, unnecessary to say that I returned by the way I hadcome. I had had enough of the road to Argeles. My one idea was torejoin Adele and Berry and to sit down in the car. Mentally andphysically I was weary to death. I craved to set my back against thebuttress of company in this misfortune, and I was mad to sit down.Compared with standing any longer upon my feet, the contingency ofdislocation became positively attractive....

  The first thing that met my eyes, as I limped round the last of thebends, was the bonnet of a dilapidated touring car.

  I could have thrown up my rotten hat.

  A few feet further from Lourdes than Pong himself was an aged greyFrench car. Standing in the white road between the two was a strappingfigure in pale pink georgette and a large Leghorn hat, apparentlyarguing with three blue-covered mechanics. From Pong's off-side windowthe conical hat and extravagant ruff of 'Pierrette' were protrudingexcitedly.

  My companions' relief to see me again was unfeigned.

  As I came up, Adele gave a whimper of delight, and a moment later shewas pouring her tale into my ears.

  "You hadn't been gone long when these people came by. We stopped them,of course, and----"

  "One moment," said I. "Have they got any petrol?"

  "Listen," said Berry. "Four _bidons_ of what they had are in our tank.It was when they were in, that we found we hadn't a bean. That didn'tmatter. The gents were perfectly happy to take my address. A pencilwas produced--we had nothing, of course--and I started to write it alldown on the edge of yesterday's _Le Temps_. They all looked over myshoulder. As I was writing, I _felt_ their manner change. I stoppedand looked round. _The fools were staring at me as if I were risenfrom the dead_. That mayn't surprise you, but it did me, because we'dgot through that phase. For a moment we looked at one another. Thenone picked up the paper and took off his hat. 'It is unnecessary,' hesaid, 'for _Monsieur_ to give us his name. We know it perfectly.' Theothers nodded agreement. I tell you, I thought they'd gone mad...."

  He pushed his hat back from his eyes and sat down on the step.

  "But--but what's the trouble?" I gasped.

  Berry threw out his hands.

  "Haven't you got it?" he said. "_They think I'm Sycamore Tight._"

  * * * * *

  I soon perceived the vanity of argument.

  With my brother-in-law in the hand and fifty thousand francs in thebush, the three mechanics were inexorable.
r />   They accepted my statements; they saw my point of view; they uncovered;they bowed; they laughed when I laughed; they admitted the possibility,nay, likelihood of a mistake; they deplored the inconvenience we weresuffering. But, politely and firmly, they insisted that Berry shouldenter their car and accompany them to Lourdes.

  That this their demand should be met was not to be thought of.

  Adele and I could not desert Berry; from the police at Lourdes nothingwas to be expected but suspicion, hostility, and maddeningly officiousdelays; Berry's eventual release would only be obtained at a cost ofsuch publicity as made my head swim.

  Any idea of force was out of the question. But for the presence of mywife, we would have done what we could. With Adele in our care,however, we could not afford to fail, and--they were three to two.

  I racked my brain desperately....

  Presently one of the trio lugged out a watch. When he showed hisfellows the hour, they flung up their arms. A moment later they wereclearing for action.

  _Le Temps_ was carefully folded and stuffed out of sight. Berry wasinformed, with a bow, that, so soon as their car was turned round, theywould be ready to leave. The slightest of the three stepped to thestarting-handle...

  The next moment, with a deafening roar, their engine was under way.

  I was standing with my hand upon our off hind wing, and as the driverran to his throttle, I felt a steady tremor.

  _Under cover of the other car's roar, Adele had started Pong's engine_.

  What was a great deal more, _she had given me my cue_.

  I thought like lightning.

  There was not a moment to lose. Already the driver was in his seat andfumbling with his gear-lever....

  As slowly as I dared, I strolled to the off-side door.

  Adele's and my eyes met.

  "When you hear me say, 'Look'," I said.

  With the faintest smile, 'Pierrette' stared through the wind-screen....

  I returned to the rear of the car.

  The way we were using was narrow, but fifty paces away in the directionof Argeles was a track which left our road to lead to a farm. For thisspot the driver was making. There he would be able to turn with theacme of ease.

  His two companions were standing close to Berry.

  As luck would have it, the latter was standing with his back to ourcar, perhaps a foot from the tail-lamp.

  Not one of the three, I fancy, had any idea that our engine was running.

  I addressed the mechanics in French.

  "I have been talking with _Madame_, and, tired as she is, she agreesthat it will be best if we follow you to Lourdes. Please don't go toofast when you get to the town, or we shall lose our way."

  As they assured me of their service, I turned to Berry, as though totranslate what I had said.

  "There are two steps to the dickey. The lower one is two paces to yourright and one to your rear. It is not meant for a seat, but it willdo. Throw your arm round the spare wheels and sit tight."

  Berry shrugged his shoulders.

  A glance up the road showed me the other car being turned into thetrack.

  I crossed to the near side of Pong and stooped as though to examine theexhaust. The two mechanics were watching me....

  With the tail of my eye I saw Berry glance behind him, sink down uponthe step, drop his head miserably into the crook of his arm, and setthat arm upon the spare wheels.

  Suddenly I straightened my back, glanced past the two warders, andflung out a pointing arm.

  "_Look!_" I shouted, and stepped on to the running-board.

  As I spoke, Adele let in the clutch....

  It was really too easy.

  By the time our two friends had decided to turn and inquire what hadexcited my remark, we were ten paces away and gathering speed...

  Of course they ran after us, yelling like men possessed.

  That was but human.

  Then they recovered their wits and raced for their car.

  I cried to Berry to sit tight, and opened the door....

  "Is he on?" said Adele, as I took my seat by her side.

  I nodded.

  "As soon as we're far enough on, we must take him inside. He ought tobe safe enough, but I'll bet he's blessing his petticoats. As for you,sweetheart, I don't know which is the finer--your nerve or your wit."

  A cool hand stole into mine.

  Then--

  "But we're not there yet," said Adele.

  This was unhappily true.

  Pong was the faster car, and Adele was already going the deuce of apace. But there was traffic to come, and two level crossings laybetween us and Lourdes.

  I turned and looked out of the glass in the back of the hood. TheEnglish Rose had thrust herself inelegantly on to the petrol tank. Herright foot was jammed against a wing, so that her shapely leg acted asa brace: her arms clasped the two spare wheels convulsively: her headwas thrown back, and her lips were moving.... Of our pursuers therewas no sign. That moment we had rounded a bend, but when a momentlater we rounded another they were still out of sight.

  I began to wonder whether it was safe to stop and take Berry inboard....

  Then the Klaxon belched, and a cry from Adele made me turn.

  Two hundred yards ahead was a flock of sheep--all over the road.

  We had to slow down to a pace which jabbed at my nerves.

  I did not know what to do.

  I did not know whether to seize the chance and take Berry inside, orwhether to put the obstacle between Pong and the terror behind, and Ifelt I must look at the sheep.

  The speedometer dropped to twenty ... to fifteen ... to ten....

  Then the tires tore at the road, and we practically stopped.

  Adele changed into second speed.

  I opened the door instantly, only to see that to collect Berry now wasout of the question. The sheep were all round us--like aflood--lapping our sides.

  Adele changed into first.

  I was physically afraid to look behind.

  The next moment we were through.

  We stormed round a curve to see a level crossing a quarter of a mileahead.

  _The gates were shut_.

  Adele gave a cry of despair.

  "Oh, Boy, we're done!"

  "Not yet," said I, opening the door again. "Go right up to them, lass.At least, it'll give us a chance to get Berry inside."

  We stopped with a jerk three feet from the rails.

  As I ran for the gate, I glanced over my shoulder.

  "Now's your chance!" I shouted. "Get..."

  I never completed the sentence.

  _The English Rose was gone_.

  I stopped still in my tracks.

  Then I rushed back to the car.

  "He's gone!" I cried. "We've dropped him! Quick! Reverse up the waywe've come, for all you're worth."

  Adele backed the car with the speed and skill of a professional. Istood on the running-board, straining my eyes....

  The next moment a dilapidated touring car tore round the bend we wereapproaching and leapt towards us.

  It passed us with locked wheels, rocking to glory.

  At a nod from me, Adele threw out the clutch...

  As the mechanics came up--

  "I'm sorry, _Messieurs_," I said, "but I fear you've passed him. No,he's not here. Pray look in the car.... Quite satisfied? Good. Yes,we dropped him a long way back. We thought it wiser."

  With that I wished them 'Good day,' and climbed into our car.

  "But what shall we do?" said Adele.

  "Get home," said I, "as quick as ever we can. So long as we stayhereabouts, those fellows'll stick to us like glue. We must go and gethelp and come back. Berry'll hide somewhere where he can watch theroad."

  As we passed over the level crossing, I looked behind.

  The dilapidated grey car was being turned round feverishly.

  * * * * *

  Forty-five minutes later we s
ped up the shadowy drive and stopped byour own front door.

  'Pierrette' switched off the engine and sat looking miserably beforeher.

  "I wish," she said slowly, "I wish you'd let me go with you. I didhate leaving him so, and I'd feel----"

  With a hand on the door, I touched her pale cheek.

  "My darling," said I, "you've done more than your bit--far more, andyou're going straight to bed. As for leaving him--well, you know howmuch I liked it, but I know when I'm done."

  "_'Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone...._"

  Delivered with obvious emotion in a muffled baritone voice, Moore'sfamous words seemed to come from beneath us.

  Adele and I stared at one another with starting eyes....

  Then I fell out of the car and clawed at the flap of the dickey....

  My hands were trembling, but I had it open at last.

  Her head pillowed upon a spare tube, the ruin of 'An English Rose'regarded me coyly.

  "I think you might have knocked," she said, simpering. "Supposing I'dbeen _en deshabille_!"

  CHAPTER XII

  HOW A TELEGRAM CAME FOR JILL, PIERS DEMANDED HIS SWEETHEART, AND IDROVE AFTER MY WIFE

  _Rome._

  _My darling Jill,_

  _It's all finished now, and I can start for Paris to-morrow. I muststay there one night, to sign some papers, and then I can leave forPau. And on next Sunday morning as ever is, we'll have breakfasttogether. Perhaps---- No, I won't say it. Any way, Sunday morning atlatest. Everyone's been awfully kind, and--you'll never guess what'scoming--Cousin Leslie's turned out a white man. He's the one, youknow, who brought the suit. The day I got back from Irikli I got anote from him, saying that, while he couldn't pretend he wasn't sorryhe'd lost his case, he knew how to take a beating, and, now that it wasall over, couldn't we be friends, and asking me to come and dine withhim and his wife at the Grand Hotel. Old Vissochi didn't want me togo, and kept quoting something out of Virgil about 'fearing theGreeks,' but, of course, I insisted. And I am so glad I did. Leslieand his wife were simply splendid. Nobody could have been nicer, andconsidering that, if he'd won, he'd 've had the title, estates, moneyand everything, I think it speaks jolly well for them both. They'vegot two ripping little boys, and they were frightfully interested tohear about you. They'd no idea, of course, but I just had to tellthem. They were so astonished at first they could hardly speak. Andthen Mrs. Trunk picked up her glass and cried out, "Hurray, Hurray,"and they both drank to us both, and everybody was staring, and Lesliegot quite red with embarrassment at their having made such a scene.Then they made me tell them what you looked like, and I did my best,and they laughed and said I was caking it on, so I showed them yourphotograph. And then Mrs. Trunk made me show her a letter of yours,and told your character from your handwriting, and we had a great time.Oh, Jill, I'm longing for you to see Irikli. Of course I love Rome,but I think we'll have to be at Como a lot. Father always liked it thebest, and I think you will. It's so lovely, it makes you want toshout. It only wants a princess with golden hair to make it fairyland,and now it's going to have one. Oh, my darling, I'm just living to seeyour beautiful face again and your great grave grey eyes. Jill, haveyou any idea what wonderful eyes you've got? I say, we are going to behappy, aren't we? So happy, we shan't have time for anything else.But I can't wear a body-belt, dear. Not after this. I promised Iwould till I came back, but I'm almost melted. I don't think Jonah canbe right. Any way, I'll bet he doesn't wear one._

  _Your very loving PIERS._

  My cousin showed us the letter with the artless confidence of a child.

  Excepting herself, I don't think any one of us shared the writer'senthusiasm about Mr. Leslie Trunk. We quite agreed with SignerVissochi. It was hard to believe that the man who had instituted suchan iniquitous suit could so swiftly forgive the costly drubbing he hadreceived, or, as heir-presumptive to the dukedom, honestly welcome thenews of Piers' engagement. Sweetheart Jill, however, knew little ofleopards and their spots. Out of respect for such unconsciousness, weheld our peace. There was no hurry, and Piers could be tackled at ourconvenience....

  The conversation turned to our impending departure from France.

  "I take it," said Jonah, "that we go as we came. If we're going toParis for the Grand Prix, there's not much object in stopping therenow. In any event, it 'ld mean our going by train and sending the carsby sea. I'm not going to drive in Paris for anyone. I'm too old."

  After a little discussion, we decided that he was right.

  "Same route?" said Adele.

  "I think so," said Jonah. "Except that we miss Bordeaux and go byBergerac instead."

  "Is that shorter or longer?" said Berry. "Not that I really care,because I wouldn't visit Bordeaux a second time for any earthlyconsideration. I've seen a good many poisonous places in my time, butfor inducing the concentrated essence of depression, that moth-eatenspectre of bustling commerce has them, as the immortal B-B-B-Wordsworthsays, beat to a b-b-b-string-bag."

  "I don't seem to remember," said Daphne, "that it was so awful."

  "It wasn't," said I. "But the circumstances in which he visited itwere somewhat drab. Still, it's not an attractive town, and, as theother way's shorter and the road's about twice as good----"

  "I'm glad it's shorter," said Berry. "I want to get to Angouleme ingood time."

  "Why?" said Jill.

  Berry eyed her reproachfully.

  "Child," he said, "is your gratitude so short-lived? Have you in sixslight months forgotten that at Angouleme we were given the very finestdinner that ever we ate? A meal without frills--nine tender courseslong? For which we paid the equivalent of rather less than fiveshillings a head?"

  "Oh, I remember," said Jill. "That was where they made us use the sameknife all through dinner."

  "And what," demanded Berry, "of that? A conceit--a charming conceit.Thus was the glorious tradition of one course handed down to those thatfollowed after. I tell you, that for me the idea of another 'crowdedhour' in Angouleme goes far to ameliorate the unpleasant prospect oferupting into the middle of an English spring."

  "It's clear," said I, "that you should do a gastronomic tour. Everydepartment of France has its particular dainty. With a reliable list,an almanac, and a motor ambulance, you could do wonders."

  My brother-in-law groaned.

  "It wouldn't work," he said miserably. "It wouldn't work. They'dclash. When you were in Picardy, considering some _pates de Canards_,you'd get a wire from Savoy saying that the salmon trout were in thepink, and on the way there you'd get another from Gascony to say thatin twenty-four hours they wouldn't answer for the flavour of theortolans."

  "Talking of gluttony," said Jonah, "if they don't bring lunch prettysoon, we shall be late. It's past one now, and the meeting's the otherside of Morlaas. First race, two-fifteen."

  I rose and strolled to the Club-house, to see the steward....

  This day was the sixteenth of April, and Summer was coming in. Underour very eyes, plain, woods and foothills were putting on amain herlovely livery. We had played a full round of golf over a blowingvalley we hardly knew. Billowy emerald banks masked the familiarsparkle of the hurrying Gave; the fine brown lace of rising woods haddisappeared, and, in its stead, a broad hanging terrace of delicategreen stood up against the sky; from being a jolly counterpane, theplain of Billere itself had become a cheerful quilt; as for thefoot-hills, they were so monstrously tricked out with fine freshruffles and unexpected equipage of greenery, with a strange epauletupon that shoulder and a brand-new periwig upon that brow, that if highhills but hopped outside the Psalter you would have sworn the snowyPyrenees had found new equerries.

  Luncheon was served indoors.

  Throughout the winter the lawn before the Club-house had made adining-room. To-day, however, we were glad of the shade.

  "Does Piers know," said Adele, "that he's coming home with us?"

  Jill shook her head.

 
; "Not yet. I meant to tell him in my last letter, but I forgot." Sheturned to Daphne. "You don't think we could be married at once? I'msure Piers wouldn't mind, and I'd be so much easier. He does wantlooking after, you know. Fancy his wanting to leave off that beltthing."

  "Yes, just fancy," said Berry. "Apart from the fact that it was apresent from you, it'd be indecent."

  "It isn't that," said Jill. "But he might get an awful chill."

  "I know," said Berry. "I know. That's my second point. Keep theabdominal wall quarter of an inch deep in lamb's wool, and in thehottest weather you'll never feel cold. Never mind. If he mentions itagain, we'll make its retention a term of the marriage settlement."

  Jill eyed him severely before proceeding.

  "It could be quite quiet," she continued; "the wedding, I mean. At aregistry place----"

  "Mrs. Hunt's, for instance," said Berry.

  "--and then we could all go down to White Ladies together, and when hehas to go back to fix things up in Italy, I could go, too."

  "My darling," said Daphne, "don't you want to be married from home? Inour own old church at Bilberry? For only one thing, if you weren't, Idon't think the village would ever get over it."

  Jill sighed.

  "When you talk like that," she said, "I don't want to be married atall.... Yes, I do. I want Piers. I wouldn't be happy without him.But... If only he hadn't got four estates of his own, we might----"

  "Five," said Berry. Jill opened her big grey eyes. "Four now, and ashare in another upon his wedding day."

  Jill knitted her brow.

  "I never knew this," she said. "What's the one he's going to have?"

  Berry raised his eyebrows.

  "It's a place in Hampshire," he said. "Not very far from Brooch. Theycall it White Ladies."

  The look which Jill gave us, as we acclaimed his words, came straightout of Paradise.

  "I do wish he could have heard you," she said uncertainly. "I'll tellhim, of course. But it won't be the same. And my memory isn'tshort-lived really. I'd forgotten the Angouleme dinner, but I shan'tforget this lunch in a hundred years."

  "In another minute," said Berry, "I shall imbrue this omelet withtears. Then it'll be too salt." He seized his tumbler and raised itabove his head. "I give you Monsieur Roland. May he touch the groundin spots this afternoon. Five times he's lent me an 'unter-'oss out ofsheer good nature; his taste in cocktails is venerable; and whenever Isee him he asks when we're going to use his car."

  We drank the toast gladly.

  Roland was a good sportsman, and throughout the season at Pau he hadbeen more than friendly. He was to ride two races at the meeting thisafternoon.

  "And now," said I, "get a move on. St. Jammes is ten miles off, andthe road is vile. If we'd got Roland's flier, it 'ld be one thing, butPing and Pong'll take their own time."

  My brother-in-law frowned.

  "Business first," he said shortly. "Business first. I spoke to thesteward about the cutlets, and I won't have them rushed. And if that'sour Brie on the sideboard--well, I, too, am in a melting mood, and it'sjust asking for trouble."

  There was a fresh breeze quickening the air upon the uplands beyond oldMorlaas, to whip the flags into a steady flutter and now and againflick a dark tress of hair across Adele's dear cheeks.

  As we scrambled across country--

  "Why, oh, why," she wailed, "did ever I let it grow? I'll have it cutagain to-morrow. I swear I will."

  "And what about me?" said I. "You're a joint tenant with me. Youcan't commit waste like that without my consent."

  "I'm sure I can abate--is that right?--a nuisance."

  "It's not a nuisance. It's a glory. When I wake up in the morning andsee it rippling all over the pillow, I plume myself upon my real andpersonal interest in such a beautiful estate. Then I start working outhow many lockets it 'ld fill, and that sends me to sleep again."

  "Does it really ripple?" said Adele. "Or is that a poet's licence?"

  "Rather," said I. "Sometimes, if I'm half asleep, I feel quiteseasick."

  Adele smiled thoughtfully.

  "In that case," she announced, "I'll reconsider my decision. But Iwish to Heaven it 'ld ripple when I'm awake."

  "They're off!" cried Jonah.

  A sudden rush for the bank on which we were standing confirmed hisreport. We had much ado to escape being thrust into the deep lane thebank was walling.

  The lane was about a mile long, and so was the bank. The latter made afair "grand stand." As such it was packed. Not only all the visitorsto Pau, but every single peasant for twenty miles about seemed to haverallied at St. Jammes to see the sport. The regular business of therace-course was conspicuously missing. Pleasure was strolling, cock ofan empty walk. For sheer bonhomie, the little meeting bade fair tothrow its elder brethren of the Hippodrome itself into the shadowydistance.

  Roland rode a fine race and won by a neck.

  We left the bank and walked up the lane to offer our congratulations.

  "Thank you. Thank you. But nex' year you will bring horses, eh? An'we will ride against one another. Yes? You shall keep them with me.I 'ave plenty of boxes, you know. An' on the day I will give yourhorse his breakfast, and he shall give me the race. That's right. An'when are you going to try my tank? I go away for a week, an' when Icome back yesterday, I ask my people, 'How has Captain Pleydell enjoyedthe car?' 'But he 'as not used it.' 'No? Then that is because theMajor has broken her up?' 'No. He has not been near.' I see now itis not good enough. I tell you I am hurt. I shall not ask you again."

  "Lunch with us to-morrow instead," laughed Daphne

  "I am sure that I will," said Roland.

  After a little we sauntered back to our bank....

  It was nearly a quarter to five by the time we were home. That wasearly enough, but the girls had grown tired of standing, and we hadseen Roland win twice. Jonah we had left to come in another car. Thiswas because he had found a brother-fisherman. When last we saw him, hehad a pipe in one hand, a lighted match in the other, and wasdiscussing casts....

  Falcon met us at the door with a telegram addressed to 'Miss Mansel.'

  The wording was short and to the point.

  _Have met with accident can you come Piers Paris._

  The next train to Paris left Pau in twelve minutes time.

  Adele and a white-faced Jill caught it by the skin of their teeth.

  They had their tickets, the clothes they stood up in, a brace of vanitybags, and one hundred and forty-five francs. But that was all. It wasarranged feverishly upon the platform that Jonah and I should follow,with such of their effects as Daphne gave us, by the ten-thirty train.

  Then a horn brayed, I kissed Adele's fingers, poor Jill threw me aghost of a smile, and their coach rolled slowly out of the station....

  I returned to the car dazedly.

  Thinking it over, I decided that we had done the best we could. Onarrival at Bordeaux, my wife and cousin could join the Spanish express,which was due to leave that city at ten-fifteen; this, if it ran totime, would bring them to the French capital by seven o'clock the nextmorning. Jonah and I would arrive some five hours later....

  The Bank was closed, of course, so I drove to the Club forthwith to getsome money. Jonah was not there, but, as he was certain to call, Ileft a note with the porter, telling him what had occurred. Then Ipurchased our tickets--a lengthy business. It was so lengthy, in fact,that when it was over I called again at the Club on the chance ofpicking up Jonah and bringing him home. He had not arrived....

  I made my way back to the villa dismally enough.

  My sister and Berry were in the drawing-room.

  As I opened the door--

  "Wherever have you been?" said Daphne. "Did they catch it?"

  I nodded.

  "You haven't seen Jonah, I suppose?"

  I shook my head.

  "But where have you been, Boy?"

  I spread out my hands.<
br />
  "Getting money and tickets. You know their idea of haste. But there'splenty of time--worse luck," I added bitterly. Then: "I say, what adreadful business!" I sank into a chair. "What on earth can havehappened?"

  Berry rose and walked to a window.

  "Jill's face," he said slowly. "Jill's face." He swung round andflung out an arm. "She looked old!" he cried. "Jill--that baby lookedold. She thought it was a wire to say he was on his way, and it hither between the eyes like the kick of a horse."

  Shrunk into a corner of her chair, my sister stared dully before her.

  "He must be bad," said I. "Unless he was bad, he 'ld never have wiredlike that. If Piers could have done it, I'm sure he 'ld have temperedthe wind."

  "'Can you come?'" quoted Berry, and threw up his arms.

  Daphne began to cry quietly....

  A glance at the tea-things showed me that these were untouched. I rangthe bell, and pleasantly fresh tea was brought. I made my sisterdrink, and poured some for Berry and me. The stimulant did us allgood. By common consent, we thrust speculation aside and made whatarrangements we could. That our plans for returning to England wouldnow miscarry seemed highly probable.

  At last my sister sighed and lay back in her chair.

  "Why?" she said quietly. "Why? What has Jill done to earn this? Oh,I know it's no good questioning Fate, but it's--it's rather hard."

  I stepped to her side and took her hand in mine.

  "My darling," I said, "don't let's make the worst of a bad business.The going's heavy, I know, but it's idle to curse the jumps beforewe've seen them. Piers didn't send that wire himself. That goeswithout saying. He probably never worded it. I know that's as broadas it's long, but, when you come to think, there's really no reason onearth why it should be anything more than a broken leg."

  There was a dubious silence.

  At length--

  "Boy's perfectly right," said Berry. "Jill's scared stiff--naturally.As for us, we're rattled--without good reason at all. For all weknow...."

  He broke off to listen.... The front door closed with a crash.

  "Jonah," said I. "He's had my note, and----"

  It was not Jonah.

  It was Piers, Duke of Padua, who burst into the room, lookingextraordinarily healthy and very much out of breath.

  We stared at him, speechless.

  For a moment he stood smiling. Then he swept Daphne a bow.

  "Paris to Pau by air," he said, "in four and a quarter hours. Think ofit. Clean across France in a bit of an afternoon. You'll all _have_to do it: it's simply glorious." He crossed to my sister's side andkissed her hand. "Don't look so surprised," he said, laughing. "Itreally is me. I didn't dare to wire, in case we broke down on the way.And now where's Jill?"

  We continued to stare at him in silence.

  * * * * *

  It was Berry--some ten minutes later--who hit the right nail on thehead.

  "By George!" he shouted. "By George! I've got it in one. _The fellowwho sent that wire was Leslie Trunk_."

  "_Leslie?_" cried Piers. "But why----"

  "Who knows? But your cousin's a desperate man, and Jill's in his way.So are you--more still, but, short of murder itself, to touch you won'thelp his case. With Jill in his hands.... Well, for one thing only, Itake it you'd pay pretty high for her--her health."

  Piers went very white.

  For myself, I strove to keep my brain steady, but the thought ofAdele--my wife, in the power of the dog, would thrust itself, grinninghorribly, into the foreground of my imagination.

  I heard somebody say that the hour was a quarter past seven. I had mywatch in my hand, so I knew they were right. Vainly they repeatedtheir statement, unconsciously voicing my thoughts....

  Only when Daphne fell on her knees by my side did I realise that I wasthe speaker.

  Berry and Piers were at the telephone.

  I heard them.

  "Ask for the Bordeaux Exchange. Burn it, why can't I talk French? Doas I say, lad. Don't argue. Ask for the Bordeaux Exchange. Insistthat it's urgent--a matter of life and death."

  Piers began to speak--shakily.

  "Yes. The Bordeaux Exchange.... It's most urgent, _Mademoiselle_....A matter of life and death.... Yes, yes. The Exchange itself....What? My God! But, _Mademoiselle_----"

  A sudden rude thresh of the bell announced that his call was over.

  Berry fell upon the instrument with an oath.

  "It's no good!" cried Piers. "It's no good. She says the line toBordeaux is out of order."

  My sister lifted her head and looked into my face.

  "Can you do it by car?" she said.

  I pulled myself together and thought very fast.

  "We can try," I said, rising, "but---- Oh, it's a hopeless chance.Only three hours--_less than_ three hours for a hundred and fiftymiles. It can't be done. We'd have to do over seventy most of theway, and you can't beat a pace like that out of Ping and Pong. On thetrack, perhaps.... But on the open road----"

  The soft slush of tires upon the drive cut short my sentence.

  "Jonah, at last," breathed Daphne.

  We ran to the window.

  It was not Jonah.

  It was Roland.

  So soon as he saw us, he stopped and threw out his clutch.

  "I say, you know, I am mos' distress' about your lunch to-morrow. Whenyou ask me----"

  "Roland," I cried, "Roland, will you lend me your car?"

  "But 'ave I not said----"

  "Now--at once--here--to drive to Bordeaux?"

  Roland looked up at my face.

  The next moment he was out of his seat.

  "Yes, but I am not going with you," he said. Then: "What is thematter? Never mind. You will tell me after. The lights are good, andshe is full up with gasolene. I tell you, you will be there in threehours."

  "Make it two and three-quarters," said I.

  * * * * *

  The day's traffic had dwindled to a handful of home-going gigs, and aswe swung out of the _Rue Montpensier_ and on to the Bordeaux road, adistant solitary tram was the only vehicle within sight.

  I settled down in my seat....

  A moment later we had passed the _Octroi_, and Pau was behind us.

  Piers crouched beside me as though he were carved of stone. Once in awhile his eyes would fall from the road to the instrument-board.Except for that regular movement, he gave no sign of life. As forBerry, sunk, papoose-like, in the chauffeur's cockpit in rear, I hopedthat his airman's cap would stand him in stead....

  The light was good, and would serve us for half an hour. The car waspulling like the mares of Diomedes. As we flung by the last of thevillas, I gave her her head....

  Instantly the long straight road presented a bend, and I eased her upwith a frown. We took the corner at fifty, the car holding the road asthough this were banked for speed. As we flashed by the desolaterace-course and the ground on which Piers had alighted two hoursbefore, I lifted a grateful head. It was clear that what corners wemet could be counted out. With such a grip of the road and suchacceleration, the time which anything short of a hairpin bend wouldcost us was almost negligible.

  As if annoyed at my finding, the road for the next five miles ranstraight as a die. For over three of those miles the lady whose lap wesat in was moving at eighty-four.

  A hill appeared--a long, long hill, steep, straight, yellow--tearingtowards us.... We climbed with the rush of a lift--too fast for ourstomachs.

  The road was improving now, but, as if to cancel this, a steep, windinghill fell into a sudden valley. As we were dropping, I saw itsgrey-brown fellow upon the opposite side, dragging his tedious way tothe height we had left.

  We lost time badly here, for down on the flat of the dale a giant lorrywas turning, while a waggon was creeping by. For a quarter of aprecious minute the road was entirely blocked. Because of the comingascent the check hit us hard.
In a word, it made a mountain out of amolehill. What the car might have swallowed whole she had tomasticate. She ate her way up the rise, snorting with indignation....

  A mile (or a minute, Sirs, whichever you please) was all the grace shehad to find her temper. Then the deuce of a hill swerved down to thefoot of another--long, blind, sinuous. The road was writhing like aserpent. We used it as serpents should be used. Maybe it bruised ourheels: we bruised its head savagely....

  We were on the level now, and the way was straight again. A dot aheadwas a waggon. I wondered which way it was going. I saw, and we passedit by in the same single moment of time. That I may not be thoughtinobservant, forty-five yards a second is a pace which embarrassessight.

  A car came flying towards us. At the last I remarked with a smile itwas going our way. A flash of paint, a smack like the flap of a sail,and we were by.

  A farm was coming. I saw the white of its walls swelling to ells frominches. I saw a hen, who had seen us, starting to cross our path.Simultaneously I lamented her death--needlessly. She misseddestruction by yards. I found myself wondering whether, after all, shehad held on her way. Presently I decided that she had and, anxious toretrace her steps, had probably awaited our passage in someannoyance....

  We swam up another hill, flicked between two waggons, slashed a villagein half and tore up the open road.

  The daylight was waning now, and Piers switched on the hooded lightthat illumined the instrument-board. With a frown I collected my ladyfor one last tremendous effort before the darkness fell.

  She responded like the thoroughbred she was.

  I dared not glance at the speedometer, but I could feel each mile as itadded itself to our pace. I felt this climb from ninety to ninety-one.Thickening the spark by a fraction, I brought it to ninety-two ...ninety-three.... In a quiet, steady voice, Piers began to give me thebenefit of his sight.

  "Something ahead on the right ... a waggon ... all clear ... cart, Ithink, on the right ... no--yes. It's not moving.... A bicycle on theleft ... and another ... a car coming ... all clear ... no--a manwalking on the right ... all clear...."

  So, our narrowed eyes nailed to the straight grey ribbon streaming intothe distance, the sea and the waves roaring in our ears, folded in thewings of the wind, we cheated Dusk of seven breathless miles and sentNature packing with a fork in her breech.

  Sore at this treatment, the Dame, as ever, returned, with Night himselfto urge her argument.

  I threw in my hand with a sigh, and Piers switched on the lights as weran into Aire-sur-l'Adour.

  I heard a clock striking as we swung to the left in the town....

  Eight o'clock.

  Two more hours and a quarter, and a hundred and nineteen miles to go.

  I tried not to lose heart....

  We had passed Villeneuve-de-Marsan, and were nearing, I knew,cross-roads, when Piers forestalled my inquiry and spoke in my ear.

  "Which shall you do? Go straight? Or take the forest road?"

  "I don't know the Roquefort way, except that there's pavement there.What's it like?"

  "It's pretty bad," said Piers. "But you'll save about fifteen miles."

  "How much pavement is there? Five or six miles?"

  "Thirty about," said Piers.

  "Thanks very much," said I. "We'll go by the forest."

  I think I was right.

  I knew the forest road and I knew its surface was superb. Thirty milesof pavement, which I did not know, which was admittedly rough,presented a ghastly prospect. The 'luxury' tax of fifteen preciousmiles, tacked on to the way of the forest, was really frightening, butsince such a little matter as a broken lamp would kill our chances, Idared not risk the rough and tumble of the pavement upon the Roquefortroad.

  At last the cross-roads came, and we swung to the right. We hadcovered a third of the ground.

  I glanced at the gleaming clock sunk in the dash.

  Twenty-five minutes past eight.

  An hour and fifty minutes--and a hundred miles to go.

  With a frightful shock I realised that, _even with the daylight to helpme, I had used a third of my time_.

  I began to wish frantically that I had gone by Roquefort. I felt awild inclination to stop and retrace my steps. Pavement? Pavement beburned. I must have been mad to throw away fifteen miles--fifteengolden miles....

  Adele's face, pale, frightened, accusing, stared at me through thewind-screen. Over her shoulder, Jill, white and shrinking, pointed ashaking finger.

  With a groan, I jammed my foot on the accelerator....

  With a roar, the car sprang forward like a spurred horse.

  Heaven knows the speed at which St. Justin was passed. I was beyondcaring. We missed a figure by inches and a cart by a foot. Then thecottages faded, and the long snarl of the engine sank to the stormymutter she kept for the open road.

  We were in the forest now, and I let her go.

  Out of the memories of that April evening our progress through theforest stands like a chapter of a dream.

  Below us, the tapering road, paler than ever--on either side an endlessarmy of fir trees, towering shoulder to shoulder, so dark, so vast, andstanding still as Death--above us, a lane of violet, all pricked withburning stars, we supped the rare old ale brewed by Hans Andersenhimself.

  Within this magic zone the throb of the engine, the hiss of thecarburettor, the swift brush of the tires upon the road--three rousingtones, yielding a thunderous chord, were curiously staccato. Thevelvet veil of silence we rent in twain; but as we tore it, the foldsfell back to hang like mighty curtains about our path, stifling allecho, striking reverberation dumb. The strong, sweet smell of thewoods enhanced the mystery. The cool, clean air thrashed us withperfume....

  The lights of the car were powerful and focussed perfectly. Thesteady, bright splash upon the road, one hundred yards ahead, robbedthe night of its sting.

  Rabbits rocketed across our bows; a bat spilled its brains upon ourwind-screen; a hare led us for an instant, only to flash to safetyunder our very wheels. As for the moths, the screen was strewn withthe dead. Three times Piers had to rise and wipe it clear.

  Of men and beasts, mercifully, we saw no sign.

  If Houeilles knew of our passage, her ears told her. Seemingly thehamlet slept. I doubt if we took four seconds to thread its onestraight street. Next day, I suppose, men swore the devil was loose.They may be forgiven. Looking back from a hazy distance, I think hewas at my arm.

  As we ran into Casteljaloux, a clock was striking....

  Nine o'clock.

  We had covered the thirty-five miles in thirty-five minutes dead.

  "To the left, you know," said Piers.

  "_Left?_" I cried, setting a foot on the brake. "Straight on, surely.We turn to the left at Marmande."

  "No, no, _no_. We don't touch Marmande. We turn to the left here." Iswung round obediently. "This is the Langon road. It's quite allright, and it saves us about ten miles."

  Ten miles.

  I could have screamed for joy.

  Only fifty-five miles to go--and an hour and a quarter left.

  The hope which had never died lifted up its head....

  It was when we were nearing Auros that we sighted the van.

  This was a hooded horror--a great, two-ton affair, a creature, Iimagine, of Bordeaux, blinding home like a mad thing, instead ofblundering.

  Ah, I see a hundred fingers pointing to the beam in my eye. Bear withme, gentlemen. I am not so sightless as all that.

  I could steer my car with two fingers upon the roughest road. I couldbring her up, all standing, in twice her length. My lights, as youknow, made darkness a thing of nought.... I cannot answer for itsheadlights, nor for its brake-control, but the backlash in the steeringof that two-ton van was terrible to behold.

  Hurling itself along at thirty odd miles an hour, the vehicle rockedand swung all over the narrow surface--now lurching to the right, nowplunging to the left, but, in th
e main, holding a wobbling course uponthe crown of the road--to my distraction.

  Here was trouble enough, but--what was worse--upon my sounding thehorn, the driver refused to give way. He knew of my presence, ofcourse. He heard me, he saw my headlights, and--he sought to increasehis pace....

  I sounded the horn till it failed: I yelled till my throat was sore:Piers raged and howled: behind, I heard Berry bellowing like afiend.... I cursed and chafed till the sweat of baffled fury ran intomy eyes....

  For over five hideous miles I followed that bucketing van.

  I tried to pass it once, but the brute who was driving swerved to theleft--I believe on purpose--and only our four-wheel brakes averted aheadline smash.

  At that moment we might not have been on earth.

  My lady stopped as a bird stops in its flight. With the sudden heaveof a ship, she seemed to hang in the air. Wild as I was, I could notbut marvel at her grace....

  Out of the check came wisdom.

  It was safe, then, to keep very close.

  I crept to the blackguard's heels, till our headlights made two ringsupon his vile body.

  With one foot on the step, Piers hung out of the car, watching the roadbeyond.

  Suddenly the van tilted to the right....

  I knew a swerve must follow, if the driver would keep his balance.

  As it came, I pulled out and crammed by, with my heart in my mouth....

  A glance at the clock made me feel sick to death.

  Fifteen priceless minutes that van had stolen out of my hard-earnedhoard. I had risked our lives a score of times to win each one ofthem. And now an ill-natured churl had flung them into the draught....

  I set my teeth and put the car at a hill at eighty-five....

  We flashed through Langon at twenty minutes to ten.

  Thirty-five minutes left--and thirty miles to go.

  We were on the main road now, and the surface was wide, if rough. Whatlittle traffic there was, left plenty of room.

  I took the ashes of my caution and flung them to the winds.

  Piers told me afterwards that for the first twenty miles never once didthe speedometer's needle fall below seventy-two. He may be right. Iknew that the streets were coming, and the station had to be found. Itwas a question, in fact, of stealing time. That which we had alreadywas not enough. Unless we could pick some out of the pocket ofProvidence, the game was up.

  I had to slow down at last for a parcel of stones. The road was beingre-made, and thirty yards of rubble had to be delicately trod. As weforged through the ruck at twenty, Piers stared at the side of the road.

  "BORDEAUX 16," he quoted.

  Ten more miles--and nineteen minutes to go.

  The traffic was growing now with every furlong. Belated lorriesrumbled about their business: cars panted and raved into the night:carts jolted out of turnings into the great main road.

  When I think of the chances I took, the palms of my hands grow hot. Towait for others to grant my request for room was out of the question.I said I was coming.... I came--and that was that. Times out ofnumber I overtook vehicles upon the wrong side. As for the frequentturnings, I hoped for the best....

  Once, where four ways met, I thought we were done.

  A car was coming across--I could see its headlights' beam. I openedthe throttle wide, and we raced for the closing gap. As we came to thecross of the roads, I heard an engine's roar.... For an instant asearchlight raked us.... There was a cry from Berry ... an answeringshout ... the noise of tires tearing at the road ... and that was all.

  A moment later I was picking my way between two labouring waggons and atrio of straggling carts.

  "BORDEAUX 8," quoted Piers.

  Five more miles--and eleven minutes to go.

  Piers had the plan of the city upon his knees. He conned it as best hecould by the glow of the hooded light. After a moment or two he thrustthe book away.

  "The station's this end of the town. We can't miss it. I'll tell youwhen to turn."

  Three minutes more, and our road had become a street. Two parallel,glittering lines warned me of trams to come.

  As if to confirm their news, a red orb in the distance was eyeing usangrily....

  "We turn to the right," said Piers. "I'll tell you when."

  I glanced at the clock.

  The hour was nine minutes past ten.

  My teeth began to chatter of sheer excitement....

  There was a turning ahead, and I glanced at Piers.

  "Not yet," he said.

  With a frantic eye on the clock, I thrust up that awful road. Thetraffic seemed to combine to cramp my style. I swerved, I cut in, Istole an odd yard, I shouldered other drivers aside, and once,confronted with a block, I whipped on to the broad pavement and, amidscandalised shouts, left the obstruction to stay less urgent business.

  All the time I could see the relentless minute-hand beating me on thepost....

  At last Piers gave the word, and I switched to the right.

  The boulevard was empty. We just swept up it like a black squall.

  Left and right, then, and we entered the straight--with thirty secondsto go.

  "Some way up," breathed Piers.

  I set my teeth hard and let my lady out....

  By the time I had sighted the station, the speedometer's needle hadswung to seventy-three....

  I ran alongside the pavement, clapped on the brakes, threw out theclutch.

  Piers switched off, and we flung ourselves out of the car.

  Stiff as a sleepy hare, I stumbled into the hall.

  "_Le train pour Paris!_" I shouted. "_Ou est le train pour Paris?_"

  "This way!" cried Piers, passing me like a stag.

  I continued to shout ridiculously, running behind him.

  I saw him come to a barrier ... ask and be answered.... try to pushthrough....

  The officials sought to detain him.

  A whistle screamed....

  With a roar I flung aside the protesting arms and carrying Piers withme, floundered on to the platform.

  A train was moving.

  Feeling curiously weak-kneed, I got carefully upon the step of apassing coach. Piers stepped on behind me and thrust me up to the door.

  Then a conductor came and hauled us inside.

  * * * * *

  I opened my eyes to see Adele's face six inches away.

  "Better, old chap," she said gently.

  I tried to sit up, but she set a hand upon my chest.

  "Don't say I fainted?" I said.

  She smiled and nodded.

  "But I understand," she said, "that you have a wonderful excuse."

  "Not for ser-wooning," said I. "Of course we did hurry, but...."

  Piers burst in excitedly.

  "There isn't another driver in all----"

  "Rot," said I. "Jonah would have done it with a quarter of an hour tospare."

  So he would.

  My cousin would have walked to the train and had a drink into thebargain.

  * * * * *

  While the train thundered northward through a drowsy world, a councilof five sat up in a _salon lit_ and laid its plans. By far its mostvaluable member was Senor Don Fedriani, travelling by chance fromBiarritz to the French capital....

  It was, indeed, in response to his telegram from Poitiers that, a fewminutes before seven o'clock the next morning, two detectives boardedour train at the _Gare Austerlitz_.

  Five minutes later we steamed into the _Quai d'Orsay_.

  Jill, carefully primed, was the first to alight.

  Except for Piers, Duke of Padua, the rest of us followed as ordinarypassengers would. It was, of course, plain that we had no connectionwith Jill....

  That Mr. Leslie Trunk should meet her himself was quite in order.That, having thus put his neck into the noose, he should proceed toadjust the rope about his dew-lap, argued an unexpected generosity.

  'Yes, he h
ad sent the wire. He had taken that responsibility. How wasPiers? Well, there was plenty of hope.' He patted her delicate hand.'She must be brave, of course.... Yes, he had just left him. He wasin a nursing-home--crazy to see her. They would go there at once.'

  We all went 'there' at once--including Piers, Duke of Padua.

  Mr. Leslie Trunk, Senor Don Fedriani, and the two police-officersshared the same taxi.

  'There' we were joined by Mrs. Trunk.

  The meeting was not cordial, neither was the house a nursing-home. Ido not know what it was. A glance at the proportions of the blackamoorwho opened the door suggested that it was a bastile.

  * * * * *

  It was thirty hours later that Berry pushed back his chair.

  It was a glorious day, and, viewed from the verandah of the Club-house,that smiling pleasaunce, the rolling plain of Billere was beckoningmore genially than ever.

  So soon as our luncheon had settled, we were to prove its promise forthe last time.

  "Yes," said Berry, "puerile as it may seem, I assumed you were comingback. My assumption was so definite that I didn't even get out. Forone thing, Death seemed very near, and the close similarity which theslot I was occupying bore to a coffin, had all along been toosuggestive to be ignored. Secondly, from my coign of vantage I had amost lovely view of the pavement outside the station. I never rememberrefuse looking so superb....

  "Well, I don't know how long I waited, but when it seemed certain thatyou were--er--detained, I emerged from my shell. I didn't like leavingthe car unattended, but as there wasn't a lock, I didn't know what todo. Then I remembered that just as the beaver, when pursued, jettisonssome one of its organs--I forget which--and thus evades capture, so thecareful mechanic removes some vital portion of his engine to thwart theunauthorised. I had a vague idea that the part in question was of,with, or from the magneto. I had not even a vague idea that the latterwas protected by a network of live wires, and that one had only tostretch out one's finger to induce a spark about a foot long and ashock from which one will never wholly recover.... I reeled into thestation, hoping against hope that somebody _would_ be fool enough tosteal the swine....

  "Yes, the buffet was closed. Of such is the city of Bordeaux.... WhenI recovered consciousness I sought for you two. I asked severalofficials if they had seen two gentlemen. Some walked away as ifnettled: others adopted the soothing attitude one keeps for theinebriated. Upon reflection, I don't blame them. I had a weak case....

  "At last I returned to the car. Alas, it was still there. I then hadrecourse to what is known as 'the process of exhaustion.' In fact, Ifound it extremely useful. By means of that process I was eventuallysuccessful in starting the engine, and, in the same elementary way, Igot into top gear. I drew out of that yard with a running backfirenearly blowing me out of my seat.

  "Well, the general idea was to find a garage. The special one was tohear what people said when I stopped to ask them the way. The fourthone I asked was a chauffeur. Under his direction, one first of allreduced the blinding stammer of the exhaust to an impressive butrespectable roar, and then proceeded in his company to a dairy, agarage, another dairy and a hotel--in that order. I gave that chap askinful and fifty francs....

  "Yesterday I drove home. I can prove it. All through the trams, likea two-year-old. I admit I took over six hours, but I lunched on theway. I trust that two of the poultry I met are now in Paradise.Indeed, I see no reason to suspect the contrary. So far as I couldobserve, they looked good, upright fowls. And I look forwardconfidently to an opportunity of apologising to them for their untimelytranslation. They were running it rather fine, and out of purecourtesy I set my foot positively upon the brake. Unfortunately, itwasn't the brake, but the accelerator.... My recollection of the nextforty seconds is more than hazy. There is, so to speak, a hiatus in mymemory--some two miles long. This was partly due to the force withwhich the back of the front seat hit me in the small of the back. Talkabout a blue streak.... Oh, it's a marvellous machine--very quick inthe uptake. Give her an inch, and she'll take a hell of a lot ofstopping. However...."

  "Have you seen Roland?" I said.

  "Yes. He dined last night. I told him you'd broken down his beautyand that I had administered the _coup de grace_. He quite believed it."

  "What did he say?" said Adele.

  "Since you ask me," said Berry, "I'll give you his very words. I thinkyou'll value them. 'I tell you,' he said, 'I am very proud. You sayshe is done. Well, then, there are other cars in the _usine_. But shehas saved something which no one can buy in the world--the light in alady's eyes.'"

  There are things in France, besides sunshine, which are not for sale.

  THE END

  BY THE SAME AUTHOR

  Published by

  WARD, LOCK AND CO., LTD.

  BERRY AND CO. JONAH AND CO. ADELE AND CO. AND BERRY CAME TOO ANTHONY LYVEDEN VALERIE FRENCH THE BROTHER OF DAPHNE THE COURTS OF IDLENESS AND FIVE WERE FOOLISH AS OTHER MEN ARE THE STOLEN MARCH MAIDEN STAKES BLIND CORNER PERISHABLE GOODS BLOOD ROYAL FIRE BELOW SAFE CUSTODY STORM MUSIC SHE FELL AMONG THIEVES SHE PAINTED HER FACE THIS PUBLICAN GALE WARNING SHOAL WATER PERIOD STUFF AN EYE FOR A TOOTH