And Berry Came Too (24 page)

“Didn’t you hear it?” she said.

My cousin wrinkled his brow.

“Now you mention it, I have an idea I did. A sort of high-pitched horn.”

“That went on and on. That’s right. What d’you think it was?”

Jonah shrugged his shoulders.

“Somebody being funny, as like as not.”

Jill looked up from her business of brushing the Knave.

“He keeps on yawning,” she said. “What time did you put him to bed?”

“I don’t know exactly,” I said. “When I went myself.”

“Poor dog,” said Jill. “D’you mean he was up till three?”

“Don’t be silly,” said I. “He enjoyed it.”

“What?” said Jill, staring.

“Well, being with us,” said I. “You – you know he likes company.”

“It was very unkind” – severely. “You’re a man and can please yourself. But how would you like to be kept from going to bed?”

Unwilling to trust my voice, I rose to my feet and sauntered into the house…

Five minutes later, perhaps, two beautiful hands came to rest on the back of my chair.

I laid back my head and looked up – to meet two eyes that made me forget the hands.

Perdita spoke very low.

“A prophet is not without honour, save in his own country.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Entirely between you and me, did you put them where they belonged?”

“Berry and Jonah did. I only looked on.”

The hands moved on to my shoulders.

“You’d done your bit. You saved Jill and me from the very unpleasant experience of being waylaid by beasts. We should not have forgotten it – ever. And whenever we remembered, the light would have left our eyes.”

“You put it too high,” said I.

“I don’t think so. Never mind.” The hands, which were very cool, came to rest on my lids. “But I saw Jill thank you last night, and – and I wouldn’t like you to think that I wasn’t grateful, too.”

How Perdita Left White Ladies, and

Berry Sat Down with a Lady Who Knew No Law

As Berry entered the room—

“It’s in,” cried Jill. “There’s a photograph in
The Times
.”

“What’s in?” said my brother-in-law.

“The Abbey Plate. Listen.
By the great generosity of the family from whose cellars the superb collection was unearthed, the world will be able not only to enjoy a spectacle of the utmost magnificence but to contemplate for the first time
—”

“Thank you,” said Berry, shakily. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

He turned to the sideboard, seized a carving knife and did a good-looking ham some grievous bodily harm. As he wrought, he spoke over his shoulder.

“Half a million sterling that stuff was worth – and we’ve as good as thrown it away.”

“What rot,” said Daphne. “You know it’s only on loan.”

“Loan,” said her husband, contemptuously. “Loan. And who’s going to ask for it back?” Plate in hand, he made his way to the table and took his seat. “It’s labelled now – for ever,
Not to be touched
. If we were to breathe the word ‘sale,’ such a screech would go up to heaven as never was heard.”

“Well, it would have been wicked,” said Jill.

“Look here,” said Berry. “You know as well as I do the fruitful counsel I gave – with which Jonah and Boy concurred, which you would not take. I said ‘Have it valued at once, and offer it to the country at half its worth.’ If we’d done that, we’d have got a houseful of bouquets and a quarter of a million pounds. As it is, we’re down on the deal –
down
.”

“Not – not very much,” said Daphne.

“Ninety pounds,” said Berry. “I had to give the servants a tenner apiece.”

There was an uneasy silence, and Perdita moistened her lips.

“As a matter of fact,” she said, “Boy gave the gang that found it five hundred pounds.”

The effect of her announcement was that of a bursting-charge. The imperturbable Jonah started like a colt: my sister half-rose from her seat: Jill let out a gasp of dismay: and, his fork halfway to his mouth, Berry stared upon his informant as though she were not of this world.

At the third attempt—

“Are you being humorous?” he said.

“No,” said I, “she isn’t. It’s – it’s perfectly true.”

Berry dropped his fork and clapped a hand to his head.

“Five – five hundred pounds?” he screamed.

I nodded.

“On the spur of the moment, you know. You see, I assumed we should sell it. I gave them a cheque.”

“What those blasted—”

“He was right,” said Jonah, quietly. “‘Thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn.’ But I wish to God he’d told me.
I did exactly the same
.”

The effect of this frightful confession was that of paralysis. The five of us sat as though frozen or suddenly turned into stone. For myself, I felt more than dazed. Ossa slapped down upon Pelion tends to submerge the wits.

So for perhaps ten seconds. Then, with a dreadful deliberation, Berry spread his napkin over his plate.

“You must forgive me,” he said, “but the sight of food has become suddenly obnoxious to me. Not to say, revolting. It’s nothing to worry about – I think perhaps I’ve a touch of bubonic plague. Never mind. Let’s see where we stand. Let us cast up or vomit our accounts… Two minutes ago I believed we were ninety pounds down – a condition which, all things considered, most God-fearing people would find sufficiently disquieting. I now understand that certain – certain
pourboires
were given – not to the poor and needy, but to six treacherous gaol-birds, who did their best to deprive us of what was ours.”

“But for them,” said I, “we’d never have known it was there.”

“In accordance with the best traditions, these alms were done in secret – with the unhappy, if natural, result that two
pourboires
were given, instead of one. And each
pourboire
amounted – not to five, or even fifty, but to five…hundred… pounds.”

“Out of a quarter of a million,” said Jonah. “Don’t forget that. It’s only one fifth per cent. Of course, like Boy, I assumed we were going to sell.”

“And there I don’t blame you,” said Berry, violently. “All the same, one thousand pounds.” He covered his face with his hands. “And you owe me thirty quid each. You can’t get away from that.”

Jonah and I sat silent, while Daphne and Jill with one voice compared Berry’s sense of decency unfavourably with ours.

“Go on,” raged Berry. “Go on. Slosh the sob stuff about. Look for the mote in my eye – with a lumberyard in your own. I’m to lose my money – I mustn’t be paid a just debt, because two Wardour Street Caliphs – Oh, and what about you?”

“Me?” shrieked Daphne.

“Yes, you. They’ve only blued a thousand. But you’ve chucked a quarter of a million into the draught.”

As though overcome with emotion, he snatched away his napkin and, putting his lips to his plate, seized his ham in his teeth and gnashed and worried it, growling, much as a lion or tiger grumbles over his meal.

Perdita and Jill, as was proper, dissolved into tears of mirth. But Daphne stood fast.

“I observe,” she said, “that your appetite has returned.”

Her husband regarded her, munching. “Even so,” he declared, “shall the flesh of mine enemies be devoured. There shall not be left of them – And I’ll tell you another thing. We’ve forgotten the goldsmith’s bill.”

There was another silence.

At length—

“How much will that be?” said Daphne.

“I should think about a hundred,” said Berry, wiping his mouth.

“Didn’t you get an estimate?”

“Of course I didn’t. I thought we were going to sell. One doesn’t squabble over a tenner when one’s just about to receive a quarter of a million pounds.”

“Well, you’ll have to pay it,” said Daphne. “That and the tips to the servants you’ll have to pay. And Jill and I will help Boy and Jonah out.”

“Why them and not me?” snarled Berry. “Why should their immorality be visited on my head? They elected to encourage felony – to put a premium upon wickedness and vice…”

“We gave,” said Jonah, “a consolation prize. Unhappily, we gave it twice over, but that was because we had no time to consult. It wasn’t particularly generous, because we both expected to get it back very shortly a hundredfold. As it turns out, we’re not going to get it back: but that is our affair, and we’re not going to take any help from Daphne and Jill. But we’re going to accept your assistance to this extent – that you shall pay our shares of the tips and the goldsmith’s bill.”

“But I haven’t offered it,” screamed Berry.

“I know,” said Jonah, “I know. But we’re going to accept it just the same. We’ve had, er, a lot of expenses lately.”

I took up the running with a rush.

“As a matter of fact,” I said, “we’re all in the same tureen. Each of us did what he did, believing that the stuff would be sold. If it had been sold, neither Jonah nor I would have spoken, and you’d have paid the tips and the goldsmith without a word.”

“Perhaps,” said Berry, “perhaps. But it hasn’t been sold.”

“So we’re each of us down,” I continued. “If you think we should pool our losses—”

“Strange as it may seem,” said Berry, “that solution had not occurred to me. If you like to play with a skunk, you can burn your own clothes… As an act of grace and on the distinct understanding that this – this
Danse Macabre
is never again discussed, I will discharge the just debts of this frightening deal. Of course the whole thing’s a nightmare: but let that go. We’ve made such fools of ourselves as never were seen. If you wrote it down, no one would ever believe it – it’s mathematics gone mad. Take twelve hundred from half a million, and the answer’s a stomach pump.”

Here Falcon came in with the letters, that moment arrived.

Since there were none for me, I picked up
The Times
.

By the great generosity of the family…

With his hand to his heart, my brother-in-law was making a rattling noise.

“What on earth’s the matter?” shrieked Daphne.

“
Angina pectoris
,” said Berry. “Get me a cordial, someone. I shan’t last long.” He held up a bill. “I should like this buried with me. It’ll soon be a deodand.”

Standing about him we studied the fatal note.

MAJOR PLEYDELL
Dr. to

BAUBLE AND LEVITY

Goldsmiths to HM the King.

Cleaning and polishing twenty-nine important pieces of fine Church Plate, unsetting, cleaning and resetting one hundred and forty-seven precious and semi-precious stones, together with three weeks’ insurance of the whole: £295-0-0

“I’m not surprised,” said Jonah. “When you said it’d be a hundred, I thought you were putting it low. And then, of course, the insurance… We ought to have thought of that.”

“I won’t pay it,” yelled Berry. “It’s an obscene demand. I hereby refuse to contemplate it. I expunge its filth from my mind.”

Weak with laughter, his wife laid her cheek against his.

“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. I really am. But you did ask for it, you know – not having an estimate.”

“And you’ll still be up,” quavered Jill, “on Jonah and Boy. You’ll only be down three – three hundred and eighty-five pounds.”

“Less,” said I. “They’ll allow him five per cent discount, if he pays cash.”

With a loud and shaking voice, my brother-in-law prophesied no good to any one of us, but evil.

Nine hours had gone by, and the pocket village of Quality offered us such as it had. This was the work of men’s hands – so old, so simple and so exquisite as to seem not made but natural as the spread of an English oak.

A road runs round the roughly three-sided green – a quiet, well-kept road that leads to another world: beyond the road, on two sides, are gathered Quality’s homes, each with its apron of garden, alight with flowers: on the third side a baby river has called for an old, stone bridge.

The houses are ancient and not at all alike: white walls and thatched roofs are neighboured by rose-red bricks and liveried tiles: half-timber faces cut stone: mullioned windows and dormers and fan-lights may all be seen at one glance: yet all agree together, because all are beautifully done. Of the gardens the same may be said: clipped yew and fine turf, worn brick paths and a riot of stocks, a mulberry ringed by a bench and roses clambering over a miniature porch disclose that orderly disorder the secret of which belongs to Nature herself.

The village green has been cared for for many years. Here and there a white post is still standing to show that once it was fenced against the rule of the road. But now it is a thing of such beauty that no one would ever offend its emerald pile. Not quite in the middle of the sward are the ancient stocks, sounding a trumpet-call to summon yesterday. Their oak is grey but as sound as the hour it was sawn, and, though they remember a justice which we call rough, the passage of Time has made them a reverend hatchment, announcing the dissolution of an antique world.

Behind the houses rises the quiet church tower, grey against the green of the chestnuts which stand beyond: to the left is a pride of elms to which rooks have repaired at sundown since James the First was king: and beyond are woodland and meadow and rolling park, whose lord is a jealous lord and will not sell an acre of all his heritage. So Quality has been saved – a shred of the stuff that English dreams are made of…some local habitations, gathered about a green.

Miss Perdita Boyte sat down on the velvet sward.

“Why,” she said, “have you kept the good wine until now?”

“Because you are going,” I said. “So that when you sail away, a picture of what you have left may be fresh in your mind.”

“I’ve seen so many pictures, and I remember them all.”

“Perhaps. But this is the source from which all the others have come. Close and manor and farm – they, one and all, descend from the village green. The heart of England is beating under this turf.”

Perdita smiled very gently and patted the grass by her side.

As I took my seat–

“I’ve so much,” she said, “such a great deal to thank you for.”

“I don’t see that,” said I. “I had to make some return.”

“What for?”

“The pictures I’ve seen,” said I. “And I remember them all. A hand on my sleeve, with its delicate, pointed fingers and exquisite fingernails…a knee such as Actaeon died for – and found it cheap at the price… Eve herself looking out of your beautiful eyes…and a mouth that Psyche saw in the dew that Cupid brought her, cupped in his palms.”

Perdita sighed.

“Your young men shall see visions,” she said. With a gesture of helplessness she indicated the scene. “And now you’ve left me nothing to give in exchange for
this
.”

“You wouldn’t say that, if somebody set up a pierglass six paces away.”

“What should I see, Paris?”

“A child,” said I. “An eager, beautiful child – who knows her world but belongs to a Nursery Rhyme: for whom, when they see her coming, the gates of that pretty country will always lift up their heads: whose charm, like soft music, precedes her, wherever she goes.”

“Oh, Boy, what an epitaph!”

“With my love,” said I, and laid a hand to my heart…

For the short half hour that followed we two considered in detail the rare and unsullied virtue of Quality’s gorgeous fee. Then the Rolls floated over the bridge to come to rest in the shade of a whispering lime.

Berry was at the wheel, with Jill by his side. After setting us down at cross roads, the two had driven to Warfare, where Berry must sign some papers which could not be sent by post. And now they were back – rather later than I had a right to expect.

The Knave leapt out of the car, chased an indignant blackbird into the thick of a yew and then came, panting, towards us, cheerful under rebuke.

Jill preceded Berry over the turf.

“Oh, Boy,” she cried, “we’ve had the most awful time. As we were leaving Warfare, a woman backed into the Rolls.”

“Good Lord,” said I, starting up.