Berry and Co. Page 7

  CHAPTER VII

  HOW JONAH OBEYED HIS ORDERS, AND DAPHNE AND KATHARINE FESTIVAL BACKEDTHE SAME HORSE.

  Berry laid down his knife and fork and raised his eyes to heaven.

  "This," he said, "is the frozen edge. I'm getting used to the distemperwhich is brought me in lieu of soup, and, although I prefer salmoncooked to raw, you may have noticed that I consumed my portion without aword. But this...." Contemptuously he indicated the severed _tournedos_upon his plate. "You know, they must have been using the lime-kiln.Nobody could get such a withered effect with an electric cooker. Oh, andlook at our olive. Quick, before it shuts up."

  Jill began to shake with laughter.

  "I can't help it," said Daphne desperately. "I know it's awful, but whatcan we do?"

  "There must be some cooks somewhere," said I. "The breed isn't extinct.And they can't all be irrevocably suited. I always thought the Cooks'Brigade was one of the most mobile arms of domestic service."

  "I've done everything," said my sister, "except advertise. KatharineFestival put me off that. She says she spent seven pounds onadvertisements and never got a single answer. But I've done everythingelse. I've asked everybody I know, my name's on the books of everyregistry office I've ever heard of, and I've written and sent stampedaddressed envelopes to every cook whose name I've been given. Three outof about sixty have replied, saying they were already suited. One camehere, practically said she'd come, and then wrote to say she wasfrightened of the electric cooker. And another wanted a hundred a yearand a private bathroom. It's simply hopeless."

  "If," said Berry, "we survive this meal, I'll write to Jonah and tellhim to bring one back with him. If he can't raise one in Paris, he oughtto be shot. And now let's have a sweep on the savoury. I'll bet ittastes of paraffin and looks like a pre-War divvot."

  "Let's try advertising," said Jill. "Katharine mayn't have had a goodone."

  "I agree," said I. "I'll get one out to-night. A real snorter."

  In silence the traces of the course which had provoked the outburst wereremoved, clean plates were set before us, and the footman advanced witha dish of nauseous-looking fritters.

  Daphne instinctively recoiled.

  "Hullo," said Berry. "Another gas attack?"

  With an effort my sister recovered herself and took one with a shakinghand. Loyally Jill followed her example, and, with tears running downher cheeks, induced a glutinous slab to quit the silver, to which itclung desperately.

  I declined the delicacy.

  With compressed lips the servant offered it to my brother-in-law.

  Berry shook his head.

  "Mother wouldn't like me to," he said. "But I can see it's very tasty."He turned to his wife. "What a wonderful thing perfume is! You know, thesmell of burnt fat always makes me think of the Edgware Road at dusk."

  "Hush," said I, consulting the _menu_. "_De mortuis._ Those were bananafritters. That slimy crust enshrined the remains of a once succulentfruit."

  "What?" said Berry. "Like beans in amber? How very touching! I supposeundertakers are easier than cooks. Never mind. It's much cheaper. Ishan't want to be reminded of food for several days now." He lookedacross the table to Daphne. "After what I've just seen, I feel I cangive the savoury a miss. Do you agree, darling? Or has the fritter actedas an _aperitif_?"

  My sister addressed herself to Jill.

  "Don't eat it, dear. It's--it's not very nice." She rose. "Shall we go?"

  Gloomily we followed her into the library, where I opened all thewindows and Berry lighted a huge cigar, in the hope of effacing thestill pungent memory of the unsavoury sweet. Gradually it faded away....

  Three weeks had passed since the mistress of our kitchen, who hadreigned uninterruptedly for seven years, had been knocked down by a taxiand sustained a broken leg. Simple though the fracture fortunately was,at least another nine weeks must elapse before she could attempt toresume her duties, and we were in evil case. Every day we became morepainfully aware of the store which we had unconsciously set bydecently-cooked food. As time went on, the physical and mental disorder,consequent upon Mrs. Mason's accident, became more and more pronounced.All topics of conversation became subservient to the burning question offilling the void occasioned by her absence. Worst of all,dissatisfaction was rampant in the servants' hall, and Daphne's maid hadhinted broadly that, if a cook was not shortly forthcoming, resignationswould be--an intimation which made us desperate. Moreover, in anothermonth we were due to leave Town and repair to White Ladies. There, deepin the country, with no restaurants or clubs to fall back upon, weshould be wholly at the mercy of whoever controlled the preparation ofour food, and, unless the situation improved considerably, the prospectwas far from palatable.

  Moodily I extinguished my cigarette and filled and lighted a pipe in itsstead. Then I remembered my threat.

  Berry was writing a letter, so I extracted a sheet of notepaper from theleft-hand drawer and, taking a pencil from my pocket, sat down on thesofa and set to work to compose an advertisement calculated to allurethe most suspicious and _blasee_ cook that ever was foaled.

  Jill sat labouring with her needle upon a dainty tea-cloth, pausing nowand again to hold a whispered and one-sided conversation with Nobby, wholay at inelegant ease supine between us. Perched upon the arm of a deeparmchair, my sister was subjecting the space devoted by five dailypapers to the announcement of "Situations Required" to a second and moreleisurely examination.

  Presently she rose with a sigh and crossed to the telephone.

  We knew what was coming.

  Every night she and Katharine Festival communicated to one another theirrespective failures of the day. More often than not, these took thesimple form of "negative information."

  She was connected immediately.

  "Hullo, that you, Katharine? ... Yes, Daphne. Any luck? ... Not much.You know, it's simply hopeless. What? ... 'Widow with two boys of sevenand nine'? Thank you. I'd rather ... Exactly ... Well, I don't know. I'dgive it up, only it's so awful ... Awful."

  "If she doesn't believe it, ask her to dinner," said Berry.

  "Shut up," said Daphne. "It's all right, Katharine. I was speaking toBerry ... Oh, he's fed to the teeth."

  "I cannot congratulate you," said her husband, "upon your choice ofmetaphor."

  My sister ignored the interruption.

  "Oh, rather ... His food means a lot to him, you know."

  "This," said her husband, "is approaching the obscene. I dine off tepidwash and raw fish, I am tormented by the production of a once lusciousfillet deliberately rendered unfit for human consumption, and I amdeprived of my now ravening appetite by the nauseating reek from theshock of whose assault I am still trying to rally my olfactory nerves.All this I endure with that unfailing good----"

  "Will you be quiet?" said his wife. "How can I---"

  "No, I won't," said Berry. "My finer feelings are outraged. And thatupon an empty stomach. I shall write home and ask to be taken away. Ishall----"

  "Katharine," said Daphne, "I can't hear you because that fool Berry istalking, but Boy's getting out an advertisement, and we're going to ...Oh, are you? I thought you said you'd given it up ... Another nineteenshillings' worth? Well, here's luck, anyway ... Yes, of course. But Idaren't hope ... Good-bye." She replaced the receiver and turned to me."Katharine's going to start advertising again."

  "Is she?" I grunted. "Well, I'll bet she doesn't beat this. Listen.

  _COOK, capable, experienced, is offered for three months abnormal wages,every luxury and a leisurely existence: electric cooker: constant hotwater: kitchen-maid: separate bedroom: servants' hall: late breakfast:town and country: followers welcomed.--Mrs. Pleydell, 7, CholmondeleyStreet, Mayfair: 'Phone, Mayfair 9999."_

  "That's the style," said Berry. "Let me know when it's going to appear,and I'll get a bedroom at the Club. When you've weeded the best out ofthe first hundred thousand, I'll come back and give the casting vote."

  From behind, my sister put her arms about my neck and laid her s
oftcheek against mine.

  "My dear," she murmured, "I daren't. Half the cooks in England wouldleave their situations."

  "So much the better," said I. "All's fair in love and war. I don't knowwhich this is, but we'll call it 'love' and chance it. Besides," I addedcunningly, "we must knock out Katharine."

  The light of battle leapt into my sister's eyes. Looking at it from herpoint of view, I realized that my judgment had been ill-considered.Plainly it was not a question of love, but of war--"and that mostdeadly." She drew her arms from my neck and stood upright.

  "Couldn't you leave out my name and just put 'Box So-and-so'?"

  I shook my head.

  "That's so intangible. Besides, I think the telephone number's a greatwheeze." Thoughtfully she crossed to the fireplace and lighted acigarette. "I'll send it to-morrow," I said.

  Suddenly the room was full of silvery laughter.

  From Berry's side at the writing-table Jill looked up sparkling.

  "Listen to this," she said, holding up the letter which mybrother-in-law had just completed.

  _DEAR BROTHER,_

  _Incompetent bungler though you are, and bitter as has been myexperience of your gaucherie in the past, I am once again about to provewhether out of the dunghill of inefficiency which, with unconscioushumour, you style your 'mind' there can be coaxed a shred of reliabilityand understanding._

  _It is within your knowledge that some three weeks ago this householdwas suddenly deprived of the services of its cook. This out of a clearsky and, if we may believe the police, in one of those unchartedpurlieus which shroud in mystery the source of the Cromwell Road. Afterfour lean days your gluttonous instincts led you precipitately towithdraw to Paris, from whence, knowing your unshakable belief in thevilest forms of profligacy, I appreciate that lack of means must erelong enforce your return._

  _Therefore I write._

  _For twenty-two unforgettable sultry days we have endured the ghastlypleasantries of charwomen, better qualified to victual the lower animalsthan mankind. To call the first meal "breakfast" is sheer blasphemy:lunch is a hollow mockery: dinner, the abomination of desolation. I dowhat I can with grape-nuts and the gas-stove in the bathroom, but theresult is unhappy, and last night the milk was too quick for me._

  _I therefore implore you to collect a cook in Paris without delay. Bringit with you when you come, or, better still, send it in advance,carriage paid. Luxury shall be heaped upon it. Its slightest whim shallbe gratified, and it shall go to "the movies" at my expense, whenever Iam sent tickets. Can generosity go further? Wages no object: fare paidback to Paris as soon as Mrs. Mason's leg can carry her._

  _Brother, I beseech you, take immediate action. The horror of our plightcannot be exaggerated. Do something--anything. Misrepresent facts,corrupt honesty, suborn the faithful, but--procure a cook._

  _My maw reminds me that it is the hour of grape-nuts, so I must go._

  _BERRY._

  _P.S.--If you can't raise one, I shouldn't come back. Just go to somehigh place and quietly push yourself off. It will be simpler and avoid ascene which would be painful to us both._

  "That's rather worse than the advertisement," said Daphne. "But, asJonah is accustomed to your Interpretation of the art of letter-writing,I suppose it doesn't much matter."

  "When," said Berry, "you are making yourself sick upon _tete de veau entortue_ and _crepes Suzette_, I shall remind you of those idle words."

  * * * * *

  The advertisement appeared for the first time on Thursday morning.

  As I entered the dining-room at half-past nine--

  "It's in," said Jill. "On the front page."

  "Yes," said Berry, "it's most arresting. Applicants will arrive from allover the kingdom. It's inevitable. Nothing can stop them. Old andtrusted retainers will become unsettled. The domestic upheaval will beunparalleled."

  I read the advertisement through. In cold print my handiwork certainlylooked terribly alluring. Then I laid down the paper and strolled to thewindow. It had been raining, but now the sun was out, and the cool freshair of the June morning was sweet and winsome. As I looked into theglistening street--

  "It's a bit early yet," continued Berry. "Give 'em a chance. I shouldthink they'll start about ten. I wonder how far the queue will reach,"he added reflectively. "I hope the police take it past The AlbertMemorial. Then they can sit on the steps."

  "Nonsense," said I a little uneasily. "We may get an answer or twoto-morrow. I think we shall. But cooks are few and far between."

  "They won't be few and they'll be anything but far between by twelveo'clock." He tapped the provocative paragraph with an accusing finger."This is a direct incitement to repair to 7, Cholmondeley Street, or asnear thereto as possible----"

  "I wish to goodness we hadn't put it in," said Daphne.

  "It's done now," said her husband, "and we'd better get ready. I'll turnthem down in the library, you can stand behind the what-not in thedrawing-room and fire them from there, and Boy'd better go down thequeue with some oranges and a megaphone, and keep on saying we're suitedright up to the last."

  In silence I turned to the sideboard. It was with something of an effortthat I helped myself to a thick slab of bacon which was obviously buthalf-cooked. From the bottom of a second dish a black and white egg,with a pale green yoke, eyed me with a cold stare. With a shudder Icovered it up again.... After all, we did want a cook, and if we werebombarded with applications for the post, the probability of getting agood one was the more certain.

  As I took my seat--

  "Is Katharine's advertisement in?" I asked.

  My sister nodded.

  "She's put her telephone number, too."

  "Has she? She will be mad when she sees we've had the same idea."

  "Ah," said Berry. "I'd forgotten the telephone. That's anothervulnerable spot. I shouldn't wonder if----"

  The sentence was never finished.

  The hurried stammer of the telephone bell made a dramatic irruption, andJill, who was in the act of drinking, choked with excitement.

  In silence we listened, to be quite sure. A second prolonged vibrationleft no room for doubt.

  "They're off," said Berry.

  "I--I feel quite nervous," said Daphne. "Let Falcon answer it."

  But Jill was already at the door....

  Breathlessly we awaited her return.

  Nobby, apparently affected by the electricity with which the air wascharged, started to relieve his feelings by barking stormily. Thenervous outburst of reproof which greeted his eloquence was sounexpectedly menacing that he retired precipitately beneath the table,his small white tail clapped incontinently between his legs.

  The next moment Jill tore into the room.

  "It's a cook!" she cried in a tempestuous whisper. "It's a cook! Shewants to speak to Daphne. It's a trunk call. She's rung up fromTorquay."

  "Torquay!" I cried aghast. "Good Heavens!"

  "What did I say?" said Berry. My sister rose in some trepidation. "Twohundred miles is nothing. Have another hunk of toast. It was only madeon Sunday, so I can recommend it."

  Daphne hastened from the room, with Jill twittering at her heels, and insome dudgeon I cut myself a slice of bread.

  Berry turned his attention to the Sealyham.

  "Nobby, my lad, come here."

  Signifying his delight at this restoration to favour by an unusuallyelaborate rotatory movement of his tail, the terrier emerged from hiscover and humbled himself at his patron's feet. The latter picked him upand set him upon his knee.

  "My lad," he said, "this is going to be a momentous day. Cooks, meet tobe bitten, are due to arrive in myriads. Be ruthless. Spare neither thematron nor the maid. What did Mr. Henry say in 1415?--

  This day is call'd the feast of Sealyham:She that outlives this day, and comes safe home,Will sit with caution when this day is named.And shudder at the name of Sealyham.She that shall live this day, and see old age,Will yearly on the razzle feast her nei
ghbours,And say, 'To-morrow is Saint Sealyham':Then will she strip her hose and show her scars,And say, 'These wounds I had on Nobby's day.'Old cooks forget; yet all shall be forgot,But she'll remember with a flood of talkWhat feats you did that day."

  Nobby licked his face enthusiastically.

  Then came a swift rush across the hall, and Daphne and Jill pelted intothe room.

  "She's coming up for an interview to-morrow," panted the latter. "Sixyears in her last place, but the people are going abroad. If we engageher, she can come on Monday. Sixty pounds a year."

  Daphne was beaming.

  "I must say I liked the sound of her. Very respectful she seemed. Hername's rather unusual, but that isn't her fault. Pauline Roper. I fancyshe's by way of being an expert. She's got a certificate from someinstitute of cookery, and her sister's a trained nurse in WelbeckStreet. That's why she wants to be in London. What's the return farefrom Torquay?" she added. "I said I'd pay it, if I took up herreference."

  "Oh, something under five pounds," said Berry.

  "What!"

  "My dear," said her husband, "if the expenditure of that sum were toensure me a breakfast the very sight of which did not make my gorgerise, I should regard it as a trustee investment."

  Reference to a time-table showed that the price of Pauline Roper'sticket would be two pounds nine shillings and fourpence halfpenny.

  Somewhat to our surprise and greatly to our relief, the day passedwithout another application for the post of cook, personal or otherwise.

  To celebrate the solitary but promising response to our S.O.S. signal,and the prospect which it afforded of an early deliverance from ourstate, we dined at the _Berkeley_ and went to the play.

  On returning home we found a telegram in the hall. It had been handed inat Paris, and ran as follows:

  _Cook called Camille Francois leaving for Cholmondeley Street to-morrowaaa can speak no English so must be met at Dover aaa boat due 4.15 aaaJonah._

  * * * * *

  The train roared through Ashford, and Berry looked at his watch. Then hesighed profoundly and began to commune with himself in a low tone.

  "_Mille pardons, madame. Mais vous etes Camille Francois? Non? Queldommage! Dix mille pardons. Adieu._ ... Deuce of a lot of 'milles,'aren't there? I wonder if there'll be many passengers. And will she comefirst-class, or before the mast? You know, this is a wild mare's chest,and that's all there is to it. We shall insult several hundred women,miss the cook, and probably lose Pauline into the bargain. What did Icome for?"

  "Nonsense," said Jill stoutly. "Jonah's told her to look out for us."

  "I'll bet he never thought I should be fool enough to roll up, so shewon't expect me. As a matter of fact, if he's described any one, he'sprobably drawn a lifelike word-picture of Daphne."

  "It's no good worrying," said I. "The only thing to do is to addressevery woman who looks in the least like a cook as she steps off thegangway. When we do strike her, Jill can carry on."

  "It's all very well," said Berry, "but what does a cook look like, orlook least like, or least look like? I suppose you know what you mean."Jill began to shake with laughter. "She'll probably be all dressed up togive us a treat, and, for all we know, she may have a child with her,and, if she's pretty, it's a hundred to one some fellow will be seeingher off the boat. You can't rule out any one. And to accost strangewomen indiscriminately is simply asking for trouble. Understand this:when I've been knocked down twice, you can count me out."

  This was too much for Jill, who made no further efforts to restrain hermerriment. Fixing her with a sorrowful look, my brother-in-law sank backin his corner with a resigned air.

  Jonah's telegram had certainly complicated matters.

  We had received it too late to prevent the dispatch of the cook whoseservices he had apparently enlisted. After a prolonged discussion we haddecided that, while Daphne must stay and interview Pauline Roper, therest of us had better proceed to Dover with the object of meeting theboat. It was obvious that Jill must go to deal with the immigrant whenthe latter had been identified, but she could not be expected to effectthe identification. I was unanimously chosen for this responsible task,but I refused point-blank to make the attempt single-handed. I arguedwith reason that it was more than one man could do, and that theperformance of what was, after all, a highly delicate operation must beshared by Berry. After a titanic struggle the latter gave in, with theresult that Jill and he and I had left London by the eleven o'clocktrain. This was due to arrive at Dover at two minutes to one, so that weshould have time for lunch and to spare before the boat came in.

  But that was not all.

  The coming of Jonah's _protegee_ made it impossible for my sister toengage Pauline Roper out of hand. Of course the latter might proveimpossible, which, in a way, would simplify the position. If, as wasmore probable, she seemed desirable, the only thing to do was to pay herfare and promise to let her know within twenty-four hours whether wewould engage her or not. That would give us time to discover whetherCamille Francois was the more promising of the two.

  Whatever happened, it was painfully clear that our engagement of a cookwas going to prove one of the most costly adventures of its kind uponwhich we had ever embarked.

  The train steamed into Dover one minute before its scheduled time, andwe immediately repaired to the Lord Warden Hotel.

  Lunch was followed by a comfortable half-hour in the lounge, after whichwe decided to take the air until the arrival of the packet.

  Perhaps the most famous of the gates of England, Dover has always worn awarlike mien. Less formidable than renowned Gibraltar, there is a lookof grim efficiency about her heights, an air of masked authority aboutthe windy galleries hung in her cold grey chalk, something of Romancompetence about the proud old gatehouse on the Castle Hill. Never inmufti, never in gaudy uniform, Dover is always clad in "service" dress.A thousand threats have made her porterage a downright office, bluntlyperformed. And so those four lean years, that whipped the smile frommany an English hundred, seem to have passed over the grizzled Gate likethe east wind, leaving it scatheless. About herself no change wasvisible. As we leaned easily upon the giant parapet of the AdmiraltyPier, watching the tireless waves dance to the _cappriccio_ of wind andsun, there was but little evidence to show that the portcullis, recentlyhoist, had for four years been down. Under the shadow of the ShakespeareCliff the busy traffic of impatient Peace fretted as heretofore. Thebristling sentinels were gone: no craft sang through the empty air: nodesperate call for labour wearied tired eyes, clawed at strained nerves,hastened the scurrying feet: no longer from across the Straits cameflickering the ceaseless grunt and grumble of the guns. The wondroustales of nets, of passages of arms, of sallies made at dawn--mortalimmortal exploits--seemed to be chronicles of another age. The ways andmeans of War, so lately paramount, were out of sight. As in the daysbefore, the march of Trade and caravan of Pleasure jostled each other inthe Gate's mouth. Only the soldierly aspect of the place remained--Mightin a faded surcoat, her shabby scabbard hiding a loose bright blade....

  The steamer was up to time.

  When four o'clock came she was well in sight, and at fourteen minutespast the hour the rattle of the donkey-engine came to a sudden stop, anda moment later the gangways were thrust and hauled into their respectivepositions.

  Berry and I stood as close to the actual points of disembarkation asconvenience and discretion allowed, while Jill hovered excitedly in thebackground.

  As the passengers began to descend--

  "Now for it," said my brother-in-law, settling his hat upon his head. "Ifeel extremely nervous and more ill at ease than I can ever remember. Mymind is a seething blank, and I think my left sock-suspender is comingdown. However ... Of course, it is beginning to be forcibly what theycall 'borne in upon' me that we ought to have brought some barbed wireand a turnstile. As it is, we shall miss about two-thirds of them.Here's your chance," he added, nodding at a stout lady with a greensuit-case and a defiant glare.
"I'll take the jug and bottledepartment."

  I had just time to see that the object of his irreverence was an angularfemale with a brown paper parcel and a tumbler, when my quarry gained_terra firma_ and started in the direction of the train.

  I raised my hat.

  "_Pardon, madame. Mais vous etes Camille_----"

  "Reeang," was the discomfiting reply. "Par de baggarge."

  I realized that an offer which I had not made had been rejected, andthat the speaker was not of French descent.

  The sting of the rebuff was greatly tempered by the reception with whichBerry's advances were met.

  I was too late to hear what he had said, but the resentment which hisattempt had provoked was disconcertingly obvious.

  After fixing my brother-in-law with a freezing stare, his addresseeturned as from an offensive odour and invested the one word she thoughtfit to employ with an essence of loathing which was terrible to hear.

  "Disgusting!"

  Berry shook his head.

  "The right word," he said, "was 'monstrous.'"

  He turned to accost a quiet-looking girl wearing an oil-silk gaberdineand very clearly born upon the opposite side of the Channel.

  With a sigh, I addressed myself to a widow with a small boy clad in a_pelerine_. To my embarrassment she proved to be deaf, but when I hadstumblingly repeated my absurd interrogation, she denied the impeachmentwith a charming smile. During our exchange of courtesies the child stoodstaring at me with a finger deep in his mouth. At their conclusion hewithdrew this and pointed it directly at my chin.

  "_Pourquoi s'est-il coupe, maman?_" he demanded in a piercing treble.

  The question was appropriate, but unanswerable.

  His mother lugged him incontinently away.

  Berry was confronting one of the largest ladies I have ever seen. As hebegan to speak, she interrupted him.

  "_Vous etes Meestair Baxtair, n'est-ce pas? Ah, c'est bien ca. J'avaissi peur de ne pas vous trouver. Mais maintenant je suis tranquille. Monmari me suit. Ah, le voila!_" She turned about, the better to beckon toa huge man with two bags and a hold-all. "_Pierre! Pierre_!"

  Beneath the avalanche of good-will Berry stood paralysed.

  Recognizing that something must be done, I sought to interfere.

  "Leave me alone," said Berry weakly. "I've--I've got off."

  It took all my energy and most of my French to convince his _vis-a-vis_that she was mistaken.

  During the interlude about fifteen "possibles" escaped us.

  I threw a despairing glance in Jill's direction, wiped the sweat from mybrow, and returned to the attack.

  After four more failures my nerve began to go. Miserably I turned to mybrother-in-law.

  He was in the act of addressing a smart-looking girl in black, bearing abrand-new valise and some wilting roses.

  Before she had had time to appreciate his inquiry there was a chokingyell from the gangway, and a very dark gentleman, with an Italian castof countenance, thrust his explosive way on to the pier.

  My knowledge of his native tongue was limited to _carissimo, spaghetti_,and one or two musical directions, but from the vehemence of his toneand the violence of his dramatic gestures it was plain that the torrentwhich foamed from his lips was both menacing and abusive. From the shapeof the case which he was clutching beneath his left arm, I judged him tobe an exponent of the guitar.

  Advancing his nose to within an inch and a half of Berry's chin heblared and raved like a maniac, alternately pointing to his shrinking_protegee_ and indicating the blue vault of heaven with frightfulemphasis.

  Berry regarded him unperturbed. As he paused for breath--

  "In answer to your observations," he said, "I can only say that I am nota Mormon and have absolutely no connection with Salt Lake City. I mayadd that, if you are partial to garlic, it is a taste which I have neveracquired. In conclusion, I hope that, before you reach the platform forwhich you are apparently making, you will stumble over one of theridiculously large rings with which the quay is so generously provided,and will not only suffer the most hideous agony, but remain permanentlylame as a result of your carelessness."

  The calm dignity with which he delivered this speech had an almostmagical effect upon the jealous Latin. His bluster sank suddenly anddied. Muttering to himself and staring at Berry as at a wizard, heseized the girl by the arm and started to move rapidly away, wide-eyedand ill at ease.... With suppressed excitement and the tail of my eye, Iwatched him bear down upon one of the stumbling-blocks to which Berryhad referred. The accuracy with which he approached it was almostuncanny. I found myself standing upon one leg.... The screech of anguishwith which he hailed the collision, no less than the precipitancy withwhich he dropped the guitar, sat down and began to rock himself to andfro, was irresistibly gratifying.

  The muscles about Berry's mouth twitched.

  "So perish all traitors," he said. "And now I don't know how you feel,but I've had about enough of this. My nerves aren't what they were.Something may snap any minute."

  With one accord we proceeded to rejoin Jill, who had been witnessing ourhumiliations from a safe distance, and was dabbing her grey eyes with aridiculous handkerchief.

  As we came up, she started forward and pointed a trembling finger in thedirection of the boat. Berry and I swung on our heels.

  Looking very well, Jonah was descending the gangway with a bored air.

  My brother-in-law and I stared at him as at one risen from the dead.Almost at once he saw us and waved airily.... A moment later he limpedto where we were standing and kissed his sister.

  "I had an idea some of you'd turn up," he said coolly.

  Berry turned to me.

  "You hear?" he said grimly. "He had an idea some of us'd turn up. Anidea ... I suppose a little bird told him. Oh, take me away, somebody,and let me die. Let me have one last imitation meal, and die. Where dothey sell wild oats?"

  Jonah disregarded the interruption.

  "At the last moment," he said calmly, "I felt there might be somemix-up, so I came along too." He turned and nodded at a nervous littleman who was standing self-consciously a few paces away and, as I nowobserved for the first time, carrying my cousin's dressing-case. "That,"he added, "is Camille."

  His momentous announcement rendered us speechless. At length--

  "You--you mean to say," I gasped, "that--that it's a man?"

  Jonah shrugged his shoulders.

  "Look at his trousers," he said.

  "But--but of course we expected a woman," cried Jill in a choking voice."We can't have a _chef_."

  "Nothing," said Jonah, "was said about sex."

  Berry spoke in a voice shaken with emotion.

  "A man," he said. "A he-cook, called 'Camille.' And it actually occurredto you that 'there might be some mix-up.' You know, your intuition ispositively supernatural. And it is for this," he added bitterly, "that Ihave dissipated in ten crowded minutes a reputation which it has takenyears to amass. It is for this that I have deliberately insulted severalrespectable ladies, jeopardized the _Entente Cordiale_, and invitedpersonal violence of a most unpleasant character. To do this I shallhave travelled about a hundred and fifty miles, with the shadetemperature at ninety, and lost what would have been an undoubtedlypleasant and possibly extremely fruitful day at Sandown Park. Don't beafraid. I wouldn't touch you for worlds. You're being reserved for somevery special form of dissolution, you are. She-bears, or something. Ishould avoid woods, any way. And now I'm going home. To-morrow I shallstart on a walking tour, with a spare sock and some milk chocolate, andtry to forget. If that fails, I shall take the snail--I mean the veil."

  He turned on his heel and stalked haughtily in the direction of the boattrain.

  Gurgling with merriment, Jill laid a hand on my arm.

  "Daphne will simply scream," she said.

  "If this little stunt has cost us Pauline," said I, "she won't leave itat that."

  We turned to follow my brother-in-law.

  Jonah beckon
ed to Camille.

  "_Venez. Restez pres de moi,_" he said.

  On arriving at Charing Cross we left Jonah and the cook to weather theCustoms, and drove straight to Cholmondeley Street.

  As we entered the hall, my sister came flying out of the library.

  "Hello," she cried, "where's the cook? Don't say----"

  Berry uncovered.

  "_Pardon, madame,_" he said, "_mais vous etes Camille Franc_----That'syour cue. Now you say 'Serwine!' Just like that. 'Serwine!' Put all theloathing you can into it--you'll find it can hold quite a lot--and fixme with a glassy eye. Then I blench and break out Into a cold sweat. Oh,it's a great game."

  "Poor old chap," said Daphne. "It must have been awful. But haven't yougot her?"

  "It's a he!" cried Jill, squeaking with excitement. "It's a he. Jonah'sbringing him----"

  "A _what_?" said my sister, taking a pace backward.

  "A male," said I. "You know. Like Nobby. Separate legs, and shaves onThursdays."

  "Do you mean to say that it's a _chef_?"

  I nodded.

  My sister collapsed into a convenient chair and closed her eyes.Presently she began to shake with laughter.

  "It is droll, isn't it?" said Berry. "People wouldn't believe it. Fancytravelling a hundred and fifty miles to molest a lot of strange women,and then finding that for all the good you've done you might as wellhave spent the day advertising for 'The Lost Chord.'"

  My sister pulled herself together.

  "Thank goodness, I had the sense to engage Pauline," she announced."Something told me I'd better. But I waited before taking up herreference, on the off-chance of this one being a marvel. Where is thewretched man?"

  "Jonah fetched up with him. He's stayed behind because of the Customs.They ought to be here any minute."

  "Well, there's no place for him to sleep here," said Daphne. "Fitch willhave to look after him for tonight, and to-morrow he'll have to goback."

  Berry looked at his watch.

  "Five past seven," he said. "As the blighter's here, why not let himsub-edit the dinner to-night? It'll shorten his life, but it may saveours. You never know."

  My sister hesitated. Then--

  "He'll never do it," she said. "I can suggest it, but, if he's anythingof a cook, he'll go off the deep end at once."

  "And give notice," said I. "Well, that's exactly what we want. Then weshan't have to fire him. He can just push off quietly to-morrow, Paulinewill roll up on Monday, and everything will be lovely in the garden."

  "That's it," said Berry. "If he consents, well and good. If he declines,so much the better. It's a blinkin' certainty. Whichever happens, wecan't lose."

  "All right," said Daphne. "I shall make Jonah tell him."

  It took Jonah and M. Francois longer to satisfy the officers of HisMajesty's Customs and Excise than we had anticipated, and I had consumeda much-needed whisky and soda and was on the way to the bathroom when Iheard them arrive.

  Before I had completed a leisurely toilet, it was all over.

  As we waited in the lounge of the _Carlton_ Grill for a table, which wehad been too late to reserve, my sister related the circumstances whichhad led to the _debacle_.

  "The wretched little man didn't seem to take to the idea of starting inright away, but I explained that he needn't do any more than just runhis eye over the _menu_, and that, as they were going to have the samedinner in the servants' hall, it really only amounted to looking afterhis own food.

  "Then I sent for Falcon, explained things, and told him to look afterthe man this evening, and that I was making arrangements for him to staywith Fitch over the garage. Then I had Mrs. Chapel up."

  "That, I take it," said Berry, "is the nymph lately responsible for thepreparation of our food?"

  Daphne nodded.

  "I told her about Francois, and that, as he was here, he would help herwith dinner to-night. I said he was very clever, and all that sort ofthing, and that I wanted her to show him what she was cooking, andlisten to any suggestions he had to make."

  "I suppose you added that he couldn't speak a word of English," said herhusband.

  "Be quiet," said Daphne. "Besides, he can. Several words. Any way, shedidn't seem over-pleased, but, as Pauline's coming on Monday, thatdidn't worry me. So I sent her away, and rang up Fitch and told him hemust fix the Frenchman up for the night."

  "Did he seem over-pleased?"

  "I didn't wait to hear. I just rang off quick. Then I went up to dress.The next thing I knew was that they'd tried to murder each other, andthat Camille had bitten William, and Nobby'd bitten Camille. I don'tsuppose we shall ever know exactly what happened."

  So far as we had been able to gather from the butler, who hadimmediately repaired to Daphne's room for instructions, and waslabouring under great excitement, my sister's orders had been butgrudgingly obeyed. Mrs. Chapel had been ill-tempered and obstructive,and had made no attempt to disguise her suspicion of the _chef_. Thelatter had consequently determined to be as nasty as the circumstancesallowed, had eyed her preparations for dinner with a marked contempt,and had communed visibly and audibly with himself in a manner which itwas impossible to mistake. Finally he had desired to taste the soupwhich she was cooking. Poor as his English was, his meaning wasapparent, but the charwoman had affected an utter inability tounderstand what he said. This had so much incensed the Frenchman thatthe other servants had intervened and insisted on Mrs. Chapel'scompliance with his request. With an ill grace she snatched the lid fromthe saucepan....

  Everything was now in train for a frightful explosion. In bitterness thefuse had been laid, the charge of passion was tamped, the detonator ofspleen was in position. Only a match was necessary....

  Camille Francois, however, preferred to employ a torch.

  After allowing the fluid to cool, the Frenchman--by this time thecynosure of sixteen vigilant eyes--introduced a teaspoonful into hismouth....

  The most sanguine member of his audience was hardly expecting him tocommend the beverage. Mrs. Chapel herself must have felt instinctivelythat no man born of woman would in the circumstances renounce such amagnificent opportunity of "getting back." Nobody, however, wasapparently prepared for so vigorous and dramatic an appreciation of thedainty.

  For the space of two seconds the _chef_ held it cupped in his mouth.Then with an expression of deadly loathing, intensified by a horriblesquint, he expelled the liquid on to the kitchen floor. Ignoring thegasp which greeted his action, he was observed to shrug his shoulders.

  "I veep my eyes," he announced, "for ze pore pig."

  Here the steady flood of the butler's narrative became excusably brokeninto the incoherence of rapids and the decent reticence of disappearingfalls. Beyond the fact that Mrs. Chapel had swung twice to the jaw, andthat Camille had replied with an ineffectual kick before they weredragged screaming apart, few details of the state of pandemonium thatensued came to our ears. I imagine that a striking _tableau vivant_somewhat on the lines of Meissonier's famous painting was unconsciouslyimprovised. That three maids hardly restrained Mrs. Chapel, that thefootman who sought to withhold Camille was bitten for his pains by thenow ravening Frenchman, that the latter was only saved from thecommission of a still more aggravated assault by the timely arrival ofthe butler, that Nobby, attracted by the uproar, contributed to theconfusion first by barking like a demoniac and then by inflicting apunctured wound upon the calf of the alien's leg, we learned more byinference and deduction than by direct report. That our impending mealwould be more than usually unappetizing was never suggested. That wassurmise upon our part, pure and simple. The conviction, however, was sostrong that the repast was cancelled out of hand.

  Mrs. Chapel was dismissed and straitly charged never to return. Camillewas placed in the custody of the chauffeur and escorted to the latter'srooms above the garage, to be returned to France upon the followingmorning. Nobby was commended for his discrimination. Jonah was reviled.

  All this, however, took time. The respective dismissal and disposa
l ofthe combatants were not completed until long past eight, and it wasalmost nine before we sat down to dinner.

  "I think," said Daphne faintly, "I should like some champagne."

  Berry ordered the wine.

  It was abnormally hot, and the doors that were usually closed were setwide open.

  From the street faint snatches of a vibrant soprano came knocking at ourtired ears.

  Mechanically we listened.

  "_When you come to the end of a perfect day...."_

  Berry turned to me.

  "They must have seen us come in," he said.

  * * * * *

  It was with a grateful heart that I telegraphed the first thing onSaturday morning to Mrs. Hamilton Smythe of Fair Lawns, Torquay, asking_pro forma,_ whether Pauline Roper, now in her service, was sober,honest and generally to be recommended to be engaged as cook.

  As she had been for six years with the lady, and was only leavingbecause the latter was quitting England to join her husband in Ceylon,it was improbable that the reference would be unflattering. Moreover,Daphne had taken to her at once. Well-mannered, quiet, decently attiredand respectful, she was obviously a long way superior to the ordinarymaid. Indeed, she had admitted that her father, now dead, had been aclergyman, and that she should have endeavoured to obtain a position asgoverness if, as a child, she had received anything better than therudest education. She had, she added, been receiving fifty pounds ayear. Hesitatingly she had inquired whether, since the employment wasonly temporary, we should consider an increase of ten pounds a yearunreasonable.

  "Altogether," concluded my sister, "a thoroughly nice-feeling woman. Ioffered her lunch, but she said she was anxious to try and see hersister before she caught her train back, so she didn't have any. Ialmost forgot to give her her fare, poor girl. In fact, she had toremind me. She apologized very humbly, but said the journey to Londonwas so terribly expensive that she simply couldn't afford to let itstand over."

  We had lunched at Ranelagh, and were sitting in a quiet corner of thepleasant grounds, taking our ease after the alarms and excursions of theday before.

  Later on we made our way to the polo-ground.

  Almost the first person we saw was Katharine Festival.

  "Hurray," said Daphne. "I meant to have rung her up last night, but whatwith the Camille episode and dining out I forgot all about it. When Itell her we're suited, she'll be green with envy."

  Her unsuspecting victim advanced beaming. Being of the opposite sex, Ifelt sorry for her.

  "Daphne, my dear," she announced, "I meant to have rung you up lastnight. I've got a cook."

  The pendulum of my emotions described the best part of a semicircle, andI felt sorry for Daphne.

  "I am glad," said my sister, with an audacity which took my breath away."How splendid! So've we."

  "Hurray," said Katharine, with a sincerity which would have deceived adiplomat. "Don't you feel quite strange? I can hardly believe it'sreally happened. Mine rejoices in the name of Pauline," she added.

  I started violently, and Berry's jaw dropped.

  "_Pauline?_" cried Daphne and Jill.

  "Yes," said Katharine. "It's a queer name for a cook, but----What's thematter?"

  "But so's ours! Ours is Pauline! What's her other name?"

  "Roper," cried Katharine breathlessly.

  "Not from Torquay?"--in a choking voice.

  Katharine nodded and put a trembling handkerchief to her lips.

  "I paid her fare," she said faintly. "It came to----"

  "Two pounds nine and four pence halfpenny," said my sister. "I gave hertwo pounds ten."

  "So did I," said Katharine. "She was to come on--on Monday."

  "Six years in her last place?" said Daphne shakily

  "Yes. And a clergyman's daughter," wailed Katharine.

  "Did--did you take up her reference?"

  "Wired last night," was the reply.

  In silence I brought two chairs, and they sat down.

  "But--but," stammered Jill, "she spoke from Torquay on Wednesday."

  "Did she?" said Berry. "I wonder."

  "Yes," said Katharine. "She did."

  "You know she did," said Daphne and Jill.

  "Who," said I, "answered the telephone?"

  "My parlourmaid did," said Katharine.

  "And Jill answered ours," said I. Then I turned to my cousin. "When youtook off the receiver," I asked, "what did you hear?"

  "I remember perfectly," said Jill. "Exchange asked if we were Mayfair9999 and then said, 'You're through to a call-office.' Then Paulinespoke."

  "Precisely," said I. "But not from Torquay. In that case Exchange wouldhave said, 'Torquay wants you,' or 'Exeter,' or something. Our Paulinerang up from London. She took a risk and got away with it."

  "I feel dazed," said Daphne, putting a hand to her head. "There must besome mistake. I can't believe----"

  "'A thoroughly nice-feeling woman,'" said Berry. "I think I should feelnice if I could make five pounds in two hours by sitting on the edge ofa chair and saying I was a clergyman's daughter. And now what are wegoing to do? Shall we be funny and inform the police? Or try and stopCamille at Amiens?"

  "Now, don't you start," said his wife, "because I can't bear it. Jonah,for goodness' sake, get hold of the car, and let's go."

  "Yes," said Berry. "And look sharp about it. Time's getting on, and Ishould just hate to be late for dinner. Or shall we be reckless and takea table at Lockhart's?"

  We drove home in a state of profound melancholy.

  Awaiting our arrival was a "service" communication upon a buff sheet,bluntly addressed to "Pleydell."

  It was the official death-warrant of an unworthy trust.

  _Sir,_

  _I beg leave to inform you that your telegram handed in at the GrosvenorStreet Post Office at 10.2 a.m. on the 26th June addressed to Reply paidHamilton Smythe Fair Lawns Torquay has not been delivered for the reasonindicated below._

  _ADDRESS NOT KNOWN._

  _I am, Sir,_

  _Your obedient Servant,_

  _W.B.,_

  _Postmaster._