And Berry Came Too (12 page)

I turned to see the butler two paces away.

“I came to say, sir, the men went off early today. It’s the foreman’s silver wedding. But they’re going to make it up, sir, on Saturday afternoon.”

“God bless them,” said Berry with emotion. “God bless their simple souls.”

“They were very anxious, sir, that you shouldn’t think them indifferent to your desires. They’re very grateful for the beer, sir.”

“Tell them,” said Berry warmly, “I’m more than satisfied.”

“Very good, sir. And, if you please, sir, the wine has come.”

“The wine?” said Berry. “What wine?”

The butler moistened his lips.

“I believe it, sir, to be claret. Sixty dozen were delivered this afternoon.”

“Sixty dozen?” screamed Berry. “But who’s been being funny?”

“There you are, sir,” cried Falcon. “I was sure there was some mistake. Again and again I insisted that you would never have ordered—”

“Seven hundred and twenty bottles?”

“And all of them loose, sir. And not a label between them… It took two hours and more to get them into the bins.”

Berry put a hand to his head.

“Stand back,” he faltered. “Stand back and give me air.”

“But where did they come from?” said Daphne.

“From some warehouse in London, madam. I’d have telephoned if I could, but they’re not in the book.”

“Well, it’s their look-out,” said I. “When they render the bill, we can tell them to take it away.”

“That’s all very well,” said Berry. “Supposing I’m right, and somebody is being funny – ordering stuff in our name… We shall know tomorrow morning, but I don’t want five tons of guano and a hundred and fifty bedsteads in weathered oak.”

“For heaven’s sake,” breathed Perdita. “Is that sort of thing ever done?”

“I regret to say,” said Berry, “it sometimes is. The Fairies of Castle Charing met it last year. They spent a week in Paris. When they got home they could hardly get into the drive. Four full-size billiard tables, seventy baby-carriages, over two miles of stair-carpet, eleven kitchen-ranges and twenty tons of the very best fish manure.”

“Let’s shut the gates,” said Daphne, faintly. “If you think there’s the slightest chance—”

“It’s all right, my dear,” said Berry. “They can’t get very far as long as we’re here. I’ll give up Polteney tomorrow and spend the day on the steps.”

In fact, he was spared this penance. At seven o’clock the next morning the men returned for the wine and took it away. The lorries were laden and gone before we were down.

It was Sunday afternoon; and Perdita Boyte and I were sitting at ease on the turf at the head of the well. The others were gone to tea at a neighbouring house.

The orchard was comfortable, breathing the honest leisure of other days. So far from ruffling its calm, the sound of a distant car deposed to its possession of a peace which the world of today cannot give. The silence was rich and golden, laced with the hum of insects and, now and again, with the delicate flutter of wings.

A little shaft of sunlight was thrusting between the leaves to glorify Perdita’s hair. This was uncalled-for. Her beauty was vivid enough. At her feet the Knave lay couched, with his eyes on my face.

My lady opened a mouth which prose could never describe.

“Why does this spot attract you?”

“At the moment,” said I, “I am here because you are here.”

Perdita laid herself back and regarded the sky.

“If I were out of the country, you’d be sitting beside this well.”

“I believe that,” said I, “to be true. But I don’t know why.”

“Try and think,” said Perdita, quietly.

Averting my gaze from the lady, I did as she said. After a little while—

“It’s rather involved,” I said feebly. “First, I’ve always had a weakness for fairy-tales. You know. There was once a youth who set out to seek his fortune. And he met a wise man by the way. And the wise man told him to dig at a certain place and that when he had dug so deep he would discover the treasure that there lay hid… Then, to come back to earth, the treasure itself is perfection – a lively thread of silver, a virgin source, that since the world began rolling has picked its way from the hills… And then again, the well is so very old. It’s figured from the beginning – in the Bible, in Aesop’s Fables, in Virgil and Nursery Rhyme. Men have always digged wells, and the simple ritual’s the same as it was in Abraham’s day. It is a natural labour – rendering unto Nature the things that are hers, for, once the well has been dug, it’s as much a part of Nature as cockcrow itself.”

A bright, brown eye found mine.

“‘Sermons in stones,’” said Perdita, sitting up. “My dear, you’re incorrigible. You’re the finest costumier I know. You could dress up a fried-fish stall or an Epstein bust. And ‘Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.’”

“Who eggs me on?” said I. “Who picks over the junk of ages and points to some faded relic I never found lovely before?”

“That’s right. Dress me up, showman.”

“I’m afraid I shall have to undress you – to go with the well. All the best nymphs went bare-legged, with a veil draped into a tunic and one of their shoulders free.”

“Idylls while you wait,” said Perdita. “Go on.”

“I’ve done,” said I. “You’ve got the shape and the skin and the right-sized stars in your eyes: you’ve got the eager air and the mouth which the dawn gets up on purpose to see: your hair would go straight into a shepherd’s song, and as for your fingertips…” I picked them up gently enough. “I’m afraid they’re dangerous. If a god was passing when you waved your hand to a bird, I’m sure he’d come and ask for a drink. You’d have to give it him, of course. In your cupped palms, too. You know, I’m getting quite jealous.”

Perdita began to shake with laughter.

“It’s all very fine to laugh,” I said severely. “There’s the poor shepherd, clean off his feed and dreaming of the lights in your hair, trying to find a rhyme for ‘provocative,’ and all the time you’re giving a god a…drink.”

Perdita lowered her eyes.

“I daresay, if the shepherd asked nicely…”

The Knave, most discreet of sentinels lifted his lovely head – and I saw the servant coming, before he saw us.

He was plainly looking for me, so I raised my voice.

“I’m here, if you want me, William.”

The man came bustling with a salver on which was reposing a card.

Chief Inspector R Wilson

CID

Scotland Yard

I passed it to Perdita, frowning, and got to my feet.

“All right, William,” I said. “Show him into the library.”

“Very good, sir.”

As he left the orchard—

“But this is thrilling,” said Perdita. “What can he want?”

I put out my hands for hers and drew her up to her feet.

“Come and see,” said I. “I’ve not the faintest idea. But I wish the others were here.”

My desire was granted forthwith.

As we left the stable yard, I saw the flash of the Rolls at the mouth of the entrance-drive.

Chief Inspector Wilson compelled respect. If his manner was masterful, his sense of duty stood out, while the way in which he stated his case would have done credit to any barrister.

He addressed himself to Berry, as being the obvious head of the eager court.

“I’m sorry to rush you like this, sir, but before I’m through you’ll see that it isn’t my fault.” He glanced at the six pairs of eyes which were fast on his face. “I mean to speak openly. I’m sure that everyone here will keep what I say to themselves.”

“I promise you that,” said Berry, as a murmur of assurance went round.

The Inspector inclined his head.

“I’ve called to see you,” he said, “about some wine… On Thursday last, I believe, some wine was delivered here…several hundred bottles, whilst you were out for the day.”

“That’s perfectly right,” said Berry. “It was taken away the next morning at eight o’clock.”

“Quite so,” said the Inspector. “Mistakes do sometimes occur. I don’t know if you saw the invoice, but
Rouse and Rouse
was the name, of
Commercial Road
.”

My brother-in-law nodded.

“In fact,” said Inspector Wilson, “there’s no such firm. There
was
– five years ago: that explains the printed bill-head: but there isn’t now.”

We could only stare.

“Please get hold of this,” he continued. “The delivery of that wine was not a mistake… And now may I see the butler?”

In a silence big with emotion, I rose and stepped to the bell…

After perhaps thirty seconds, the butler entered the room.

“Falcon,” said Berry, “Chief Inspector Wilson would like to ask you some questions about that wine.”

“Very good, sir,” said Falcon, wide-eyed.

He turned to Inspector Wilson and moistened his lips.

The other looked up from a bulging pocketbook. “Tell me this, Mr Falcon. How many men brought the wine?”

The butler considered.

“There were five or six,” he said. “I can’t be exactly sure.”

“And how many fetched it away?”

“The same as brought it,” said Falcon. “I think there were six, but there may have been only five.”

“Would you know them again?”

“I think so. Not all, perhaps. You see, my hands were full. The cellar’s not very well lit, and what with counting the bottles and trying to—”

“Is that one?” said the Inspector, producing a photograph.

“That’s right,” said Falcon, at once.

“And that?”

Another photograph passed.

“Yes, that’s another,” said Falcon.

“Thank you,” said the Inspector. “That’s all I want.”

Thus abruptly dismissed, Falcon took his reluctant leave. As the door closed behind him—

“I’d like to see the cellar,” said Wilson, “almost at once. But before you take me down, I’ll tell you what we shall find. That cellar has got an air-hole.”

“That’s perfectly true,” said Berry. “There’s a grating some three feet square – which gives to a slot in the ground like a miniature well.”

“I never knew that,” said Daphne.

“It’s behind the lilacs,” said Berry, “close to the stable yard.” He returned to Inspector Wilson. “If you’re thinking of entry, that grating could never be forced. It
can
be opened – from within. But I’ll swear it’s never been touched for fifty years.”

“It’s open now,” said the other. “That’s why I’m here.”

The sensation this statement provoked expressed itself in a silence which is commonly coupled with death. The six of us sat spellbound, not seeming to breathe.

After a little, the Inspector continued quietly.

“You remember the butler said there were five or six men. Well, there his memory’s perfect. Six men delivered that wine, and five went away. Five men came for the wine, and six went away. One man was down in that cellar all Thursday night. His job was to open that grating.” He raised his eyebrows and sighed. “It’s been done before.”

“Well, I’m damned,” said Berry, and spoke for us all.

“Now, I’m not a magician,” said Wilson. “I couldn’t tell you all this, if I hadn’t been told. I’ve been told by an informant. I hold no brief for such men, but they earn their bread. This one’s sitting at Cannon Row now,
afraid to go out
. But that’s by the way. I’ve been after this gang for months, and, by your leave, I’m going to get them tonight.”

“Tonight?” cried everyone.

The Inspector nodded.

“If my informant is right, they’re coming tonight.”

Berry sat back in his chair and folded his arms.

“What do we do?” he said.

The Inspector smiled.

“I suppose it’s asking too much that you should do nothing at all. To be honest, sir, that’s what I’d like. I’ve five men two miles off and I’m going to bring them along as soon as it’s dark. Sit up and watch, if you must – but if I’m to get home tonight, you must give that grating a miss. Try and forget about it – and all that side of the house. You see, that’s the mouth of the trap… My men will be down in the cellar before they come. The door, of course, will be locked, and I’d rather you kept the key.” He jerked his head at the Knave. “You must keep that dog quiet at all costs. I’d like him shut up in some room at the other end of the house.”

“I was just going to say,” said Berry, “it’s going to be more of a matter for ears than eyes. I shall sit by the cellar door and listen in.”

My sister shuddered.

“I shall go to bed early,” she said. “And, as the Inspector asks, I shall try to forget. What do they want, Inspector?”

“Jewels and silver, madam.” He hesitated. “You’ve got some notable bracelets, I understand.”

Daphne covered her eyes.

“I believe every thief in Europe knows about them.”

The Inspector shrugged his shoulders.

“These things get round,” he said shortly, and rose to his feet. “And now may I see the cellars? After that, the outside of the grating: and then if you’d show me a place I can park the cars – just off the road, somewhere, as near the house as you can.” He glanced at his watch. “As I said before, I’m sorry to rush you like this: but it’s only a short six hours since the news came in.”

“You’ve had to shift,” said Berry. “And Sunday, too.”

The other nodded ruefully.

“I was going to the Zoo,” he said simply, “with my little girl.”

Our visit to the cellars confirmed the informant’s report. The grating had been unfastened, and its hinges were thick with grease. I swung it open myself without any sound.

Half an hour later we bade the Inspector goodbye…till the following day.

With a foot on the step of his car, he spoke his last word.

“You won’t forget that dog, sir? If he were to go and give tongue…”

He broke off and shrugged his shoulders.

The Knave looked him full in the eyes and lifted his lip.

An hour had gone by, and Perdita, Berry and I were strolling beside the sunk fence, discussing the enterprise of the house-breaker of today.

“I confess,” said my brother-in-law, “to a certain admiration for those about to be jugged. Sixty dozen of claret would gammon a herd of bloodhounds, let alone honest men.”