Berry And Co. (8 page)

“All the same,” he added, “I must take something. Beard-eraser, for instance, and a clean neckerchief. Same as when you enlist.”

“Everything you can possibly want’s there already. Mrs Foreland knows you’re coming, and she’ll put everything out.”

“I have a weakness,” replied her husband, “for my own sponge. Moreover, foolhardy as it may seem, I still clean my teeth. The only question is, what to put them in.”

“What’s the matter with your pockets?” said I.

“Nothing at present,” said Berry. “That’s why I shall want your dispatch-case.”

“Nothing doing,” said I. “I refuse to subscribe to my own inconvenience.”

“Self,” said Berry bitterly. “Why wasn’t I born selfish? I’ve often tried, but you can’t bend an oak, can you? Anybody can have my shirt at any time.” Languidly he regarded his cuff. “No. Not this one, but almost any other. My life has been one long unrecognized sacrifice. And what is my reward?” He looked round about him with pitying eyes. “Poor bloated worms, you little know the angel that labours in your midst.” His own being finished, with a sigh he took his wife’s newly-lighted cigarette from the ashtray which they were sharing. “I had a dream last night,” he added comfortably.

“What about?” said Jill.

“I dreamed,” said Berry, “that I was a pint of unusually broad beans. Several people remarked upon my breadth. After spirited bidding, I was secured by no less a personage than The McAroon himself, to whom I gave violent indigestion within twenty-four hours. Pleased with this attention, the laird erected in my memory a small bar at which the rankest poison could be obtained at all hours by asking in Hebrew for ginger ale. Which reminds me. I haven’t taken my medicine.” Meaningly he regarded the tray which had just been placed upon a side-table. “The doctor said I mustn’t move about after meals, or I’d mix it myself. As it is…”

He broke off and looked round expectantly.

“Idle brute,” said Daphne. “I wonder you aren’t afraid to – Where’s my cigarette? I only lighted one a moment ago.”

“Perhaps it’s behind your ear,” suggested her husband. “Perhaps—”

“Where’s the match you lighted that one from?” demanded his wife.

“Woman,” said Berry indignantly, “you forget yourself. Besides, I didn’t use a match. I kindled it by rubbing two sticks together. Same as they do in Guano, where the jelly comes from.”

Here a diversion was caused by the opening of the door sufficiently to admit a slightly damp white ball with a black spot, which projected itself into the room as if possessed. Nobby. Exhilarated to frenzy by the reflection that at least four days must elapse before any one could be bothered to bathe him again, the terrier took a flying leap on to the sofa, licked Daphne’s face, put a foot in Berry’s eye, barked, hurled himself across the room to where Jonah was playing Patience, upset the card-table, dashed three times round the room, pretended to unearth a rat from the depths of Jill’s chair, and finally flung himself exhausted at my feet.

“I suppose this is what they call ‘animal spirits,’” said Berry. “Or ‘muscular Christianity.’”

“It is well known,” said I, “that exercise after a bath is most beneficial.”

“No doubt,” was the icy reply. “Well, next time I put my foot in your eye, assume that I’ve had a bath and call it ’exercise,’ will you?”

“Have you written to the St Martins?” said Daphne, “to say that you’ll be a day late?”

“I have. The masterpiece is on the writing-table, awaiting insertion in an envelope.”

I picked up the letter and read aloud as follows—

MADAM,

I am disposed to refer to your invitation to make one of the house-party due to assemble on the 23rd instant.

I am to say that a malignant Fate has decreed that I shall not dignify your hovel before the evening of the following day.

The feeling of profound disappointment which this announcement will provoke should be tempered by the reflection that you are fortunate indeed to have secured so enchanting a personality for your festivities, which, however hopeless they may appear, cannot fail to be galvanized into some show of life by my inspiring presence.

My luggage and the four ungrateful parasites who have so long battened upon my generosity will arrive on the 23rd, as arranged. One of the latter has stealthily acquired a mongrel, which, provided he can obtain the necessary permit, he proposes to bring with him. My protests against this abuse of hospitality have been received with that vulgar insolence which I have, alas, learned to expect.

I am to request you to remember that I am visiting you incognito, as the Duke of Blackpool, and that at this season it is my practice to consume a mince-pie and a bottle of beer before retiring.

I am, Madam,

Your obedient Servant,

BERRY PLEYDELL.

“Outrageous,” said Daphne, “perfectly outrageous. However, there’s no time to write another, so it had better go. Boy, be a dear and answer that invitation for me.”

“This lecture thing?” said I, holding up a gilt-edged card.

My sister nodded.

“We’ll have to go, I suppose.”

In a flowing hand I wrote as follows—

Major and Mrs Pleydell have much pleasure in accepting the Countess of Loganberry’s kind invitation to attend Professor La Trobe’s lecture on the 3rd of January.

When I had read this aloud—

“What an interesting subject!” said Berry. “We shall enjoy ourselves.”

Three days later I was in the act of fitting a new blade to my safety-razor, when Berry entered the room fully dressed.

“I’m just off,” he said, “but you may as well see what you’ve done before I go.”

“What d’you mean?” said I.

“Read that.”

He handed me a letter. I laid down my instrument of torture and read as follows—

SIR,

I am directed by the Countess of Loganberry to acknowledge your communication of the 20th inst., and to say that she cannot recollect the inclusion of your name among those of the guests invited to assemble at Pride Langley the day after tomorrow.

In these circumstances I am to express the hope that you will not trouble to favour her with your attendance upon the 24th inst. or any other date, and that you will take immediate steps to prevent the dispatch of your luggage and of the four parasites, for which, should they arrive, she can accept no responsibility.

I am to add that the Countess is not interested in the acquisition of the animal to which you refer, or in the nature of the victuals with which it is your habit to console yourself of nights.

I am, sir,

Your obedient servant,

FREDERICK BOLETON.

I stroked my chin thoughtfully. Then—

“I don’t want to say anything rash,” said I, “but it looks as if a mistake had been made.”

“But what a brain!” observed my brother-in-law. “What insight!” He glanced at his watch. “And it’s not half-past nine yet.”

“It is wonderful, isn’t it? Now, all we want is a line from Diana St Martin to say how glad she is you’re going to the lecture on January the 3rd. Do you agree, brother?”

“I am not here,” said Berry loftily, “to discuss your crime. Have you anything to say why the Court should not give you judgment?”

“Yes. First, this communication must be answered forthwith. Secondly, Mr Boleton is clearly a menace to Society. It is therefore our painful duty, brother, to proceed with the operation, inadvertently begun, of pulling his leg until he will require a pair of field glasses to see his own foot.”

With a grin Berry clapped me on the back.

“I leave it to you, partner. Make the telegram windy. Wind always inspires wind.” He took the letter out of my hand and slipped it into his pocket. “You won’t want this document. And now I must be going. See you tomorrow, laddie.”

The next moment he was gone.

Within the hour the following telegram was on its way to Pride Langley—

Your letter not understood aaa cannot consent to cancel my arrangements at this hour aaa expect me tomorrow as arranged aaa four tons of luggage entrained last night aaa loose-boxes containing parasites due to arrive at 5.15 today aaa imperative these should be watered and fed within one hour of arrival aaa acknowledge.

Although the train had yet to make its appearance, the platform was crowded. Somewhere at the far end Jonah was waiting to see that our heavy baggage was placed in the van, while Daphne, Jill and I were standing beside such articles as we were proposing to take in the carriage, hoping feverishly that, when the train pulled in, we should find ourselves opposite to a first-class coach.

“Thath a nithe dog,” said an unpleasant voice on my left.

I turned to see a very dark gentleman, clad in a light tweed overcoat and cloth-topped boots, with a soft grey hat on the back of his head, smoking an insanitary cigar and smiling unctuously upon Nobby, who was tucked under my arm.

“Yes,” I said.

“A Thealyham, ain’t he?”

“I believe so.”

Undeterred by my evident reluctance to converse, the fellow bowed his head as if to examine the dog, at the same time expelling a cloud of disgusting smoke.

In the twinkling of an eye the terrier had sneezed, wriggled from under my arm, and slipped to the ground. I was just in time to see him scuttle in the direction of a crate of live turkeys which he had vainly struggled to approach when we passed them a few minutes earlier.

Suppressing a violent desire to choke his assailant, I thrust the rug I was carrying into Jill’s arms, and started to elbow my way towards the turkeys.

A sudden stutter of barks, a fearful burst of gobbling, and a chorus of indignant cries suggested that the sooner I arrived to take charge, the better for all concerned.

As I pushed forward, the press swayed expectantly towards the edge of the platform, and I glanced round to see the train pulling in.

Thereafter my passage to the scene of the uproar was Homeric. Every step was contested, not actively, but with that jealous determination not to yield which distinguishes the prospective traveller who has bought an expensive ticket and, by no means certain that the supply of seats will be equal to the demand, interprets every movement as an attempt to secure an unfair advantage. I eventually arrived to find in progress a game which I prefer not to describe. Suffice it that, though Nobby was leading, two inspectors and a clergyman with an umbrella were running him pretty close, while the turkeys were simply nowhere.

With a well-timed dive I secured the terrier just as he evaded a left hook from the Church, and, disregarding the loud tones in which several intending passengers announced their conception of the qualifications of a dog-owner, fought my way back to where I had left the girls. The fact that the latter had managed to reserve and hold four seats did them, to my mind, infinite credit.

It was not until we were gliding out of the station that I looked round for my dispatch-case.

I did so in vain.

An investigation of the spaces between the seats and the floor proved equally fruitless.

I sank back in my seat with a groan.

“Where did you see it last?” said Daphne.

“I’m hanged if I know, but of course it was with the other things. I put it in the hall last night, and Falcon knows I always take it wherever I go.”

“I’ll swear nothing was left on the platform,” said Jill.

“Nor in the car,” said Jonah. “I looked there myself.”

“I’ve not the slightest doubt it’s been pinched,” said I. “It’s just the sort of thing that’d take a thief’s fancy. By Jove!” I cried suddenly. “What about the swab in the light coat? I’ll bet any money he took it.”

“What swab?” said Jonah.

“Oh, a complete mobsman. Came and jawed about Nobby and then gassed him with his cigar till he did a bunk. That put me out of the way. With the girls trying to get a carriage, the rest was easy. Gad! Why doesn’t one think of these things? It’s locked, and there’s nothing terribly valuable in it, but I do hate being stung.”

“First stop Flail,” said Jonah, looking at his watch. “You’ve got the best part of two hours to think it over. I should write out a synopsis of the crime in duplicate, with a description of the missing property—”

“And a plan of the station, I suppose, showing the all-red route I took to the crate of turkeys, with a signed photograph of Nobby. I’ve only got to attach my birth certificate, and there you are.”

“Gentleman seems annoyed,” said Jonah, unfolding the
Pall Mall
.

Jill laid a hand on my arm, and I laughed in spite of myself.

“He’ll be fed to the teeth when he gets it open,” I said. “I admit the cigars are not what he’s accustomed to, but I’d like to meet the fence that’ll take a nainsook pinafore and a couple of bibs.”

This comfortable reflection in some sort consoled me. All the same, when we steamed into Flail I sent for the station-master and handed that gentleman two short descriptions – one of the dispatch-case, and the other of the thief. He promised readily to keep a look-out and inform the police.

“An’ I’ll telephone down the line, sir. You never know. He might be on the train, or even ’ave got out ’ere.” I made as if to leave the compartment. “Ah, he’d be gone by now, an’ you’re just off. But I’ll do what I can. Your address, Red Abbey. Very good, sir.”

Diana St Martin was at the station to meet us, in a fever of excitement and good-will. Her obvious disappointment at Berry’s absence was allayed by our assurance that he would appear the next day.

“Of course,” she announced, “I was thrilled to learn that you were going to the Loganberrys’ lecture, but I couldn’t help feeling that there was some news, more relevant to your visit, which I ought to know. Hullo! Is he going to honour us?” she added, pointing to Nobby, who, with tail erect and eyes looking sideways, was considering whether or no to accept the advances of an Irish terrier in the spirit in which they were patently offered. “What a darling!”

“If you please,” said I.