And Berry Came Too (20 page)

If we were glad of them, at least we gave them no cause to regret their encounter with us. Had we not been there to point the way to the water and, indeed, to give them to eat, I cannot think what they would have done. Their van was untenable: proposing to live upon the country, they had no food: their bedding was drenched, their crockery broken in pieces – and Horace floundered in the ruin, shaking with laughter, dilating in all honesty upon the joys of camping and continually dispensing counsel of almost incredible futility.

With such a personality present, we had almost abandoned hope of doing that night the business we came to do, but such was the entertainment with which we had been regaled that we were more than resigned to the prospect of trying again. However, our luck was in. By trying to fob the two off, Berry had hoisted us all with his own petard: his decision to show them attention retrieved the situation beyond belief.

At eight o’clock that night the two sat down with us to a decent meal: by half past nine Horace had fallen asleep with his glass in his hand, while Harold had grown so heavy that he could hardly talk. They were by no means drunk, but since they were physically exhausted by the miles they had walked and the many tricks they had played, the wine had acted like a drug upon senses which were only too eager to take their rest.

By ten o’clock our guests were wrapped in our rugs and were lying in one of our tents. Their condition closely resembled that of the blessed dead. So far as they were concerned, the coast was clear.

More than three hours had gone by, when Berry straightened his back and wiped the sweat from his eyes.

“I give it up,” he said hoarsely. “The stuff’s not here.”

“Oh, we needn’t stop yet,” said Daphne. “It’s only just one.”

“Yes, I know that bit,” said her husband. “I know that we
can
go on till a quarter past two. If we then reverse our procedure and work like so many fiends, we’ll get our hole filled up as the dawn comes in. Well, the answer is that I’d rather die in my bed. I mean, face the poisonous facts. Are you going to argue that Studd ever laboured like this? ‘Buried that night’ were his words. D’you mean to tell me that after a spot of High Toby he rode to this place and dug a thing like a shell-hole some four feet deep?”

Looking upon our labour, I felt the force of his words. We had certainly worked like mad; but, had I not helped to make it, I never would have believed that such an excavation could have been made in three hours. Eight feet by three feet six by four, it would have swallowed a sofa of an enormous size: and Studd had buried a bag the size of his head. I found it hard to believe that our margin of error was insufficiently wide.

We had not been interrupted. The girls and the Knave, between them, were keeping watch, and were ready to flash a warning from either bend of the road. And my sister sat in the Rolls, ready to take such a signal, drive the car slowly forward and put out her lights.

“Ten minutes’ rest,” said Jonah, and glanced at his watch. “And then we’ll have one more go.” He looked at my sister. “Will you relieve Perdita, dear? It’s over her time.”

As my sister sped up the road—

“Let’s have the lights out,” said Berry. “The sight of that hole makes me tired.” He laid himself down on the turf. “Enough to make a cat laugh, isn’t it? Fancy giving up a good night’s rest to displace about three tons of earth and then shove it back where it was. Talk about futility. And I was laughing at Horace – three crowded hours ago.”

“Some one has said,” said Jonah, “that unless you have sweated or shivered, you’ll never meet with success. I think it was Juvenal.”

“I see,” said Berry, thoughtfully. “In that case I’ve qualified for about three million pounds. I’ve larded the earth tonight. The wonder is the damned place isn’t a swamp. Are you going to put those lights out? Or do you derive satisfaction from the almost immediate future that trough presents?”

As Perdita glided up to take her seat in the Rolls—

“I was waiting for the lady,” I said, and put out the lights.

“This is heartbreaking,” she said. “And I’m sure it’s there.”

“If it is, he was sozzled,” said Berry, “and couldn’t walk straight. We’ve nearly got down to the water under the earth.”

“When we start again,” said Jonah, “we can go on for half an hour: and then we must turn and come back.”

“Oh, give me strength,” said Berry, fervently.

“The burning question is – which way do we go?”

After a little silence—

“I think it should be wider,” said I. “We’ve got enough length.”

“I entirely agree,” said Jonah. “But if we make it wider, we cannot advance the Rolls.”

“I know that,” said I. “Let’s risk it.”

“I’m terribly tempted,” said Jonah, “I must confess. But if anyone did come along… I mean, you know, we should look such blasted fools. You can’t explain a chasm like this.”

“You could to Horace,” said Berry. “You’d only have to tell him you’d dropped your stud.”

“Ah, Horace – yes,” said Jonah. “But the next to come by may be a shade less artless. We’ll hardly strike two such giants in a summer’s day.”

In the silence which followed I closed my eyes and tried to forget my state. My hands were raw, my back and my knees were aching as though their bones were diseased, every stitch upon me was soaked and my face was smeared and my arms were plastered with dirt. The thought that all this was for nothing was hardly bearable.

At length—

“One minute to go,” said Jonah. “Perdita, give us some light.”

As the darkness fled, I dragged myself to my feet. Then I heard a footfall behind me and started about.

Before I could think—

“Oh, I’m so ashamed, Captain Pleydell,” said Harold’s voice.

“When I found myself in your tent, I had a dreadful feeling that you would be sitting up. I turned to Horace, but…”

The sentence faltered and died. The sight of the yawning chasm had murdered speech.

Berry had the youth by the arm.

“It’s all right, Harold. But tell me. Is Horace awake?”

“No, no. I couldn’t wake him. I—”

“Thank God for that. Can we rely upon you to hold your tongue?”

“Of course, sir. I’m awfully sorry. I never dreamed—”

“Why should you?” said Berry. “I can hardly believe it myself. Never mind. Just listen to me. By daybreak today that hole you see there will be gone. No sign of it will remain. The turf will show no traces of having been touched. May I have your solemn word that you will keep to yourself what you’ve seen tonight?”

“You can, indeed,” cried Harold, earnestly. “I’m only so sorry—”

“Good enough, my lad,” said Berry. “And now I’ll tell you the truth.”

And so he did, whilst I helped Jonah to loosen another twelve inches of turf.

Harold listened – with widening eyes.

When Berry had done—

“But how – how very romantic,” he stammered. “I mean – after all these years…”

“It is, isn’t it?” said Berry, swallowing. “It’d be still more romantic if we could have found the stuff: but it’s nice to think that we’ve, er, mucked about a bit where it used to be.”

“You’re not going to give up, are you? Oh, don’t. Let me bear a hand.”

“By all manner of means,” said Berry. “But it’s very nearly time to start filling this cranny in.”

Harold stared at the hole: then his eyes travelled to the milestone.

“Fifteen paces,” he murmured. “Of course, if he didn’t walk straight… I – I wonder why he made the distance so long. I mean, it seems unnecessary, doesn’t it?”

Apart from the point he had made, the way in which he spoke was suggestive of more to come, and Jonah and I stopped working to watch his face.

“As a matter of fact,” said Berry, “Studd said ‘fifteen.’ He didn’t use the word ‘paces,’ but what else can he have meant? He’d have had no measuring line – the whole thing was improvised.”

Again Harold measured the distance from milestone to trench.

“It’s such a long way,” he said slowly. “That’s what gets me. It leaves so much room for error – especially by night. Of course you’re right – he’d have had no measuring line, but” – he hesitated – “it’s great impertinence on my part…”

“Go on, old fellow,” said Jonah. “We’ll say if we think you’re wrong.”

“Well, don’t you think, perhaps – I mean, as a highwayman, he’d certainly have ridden a lot.”

“Spent his life in the saddle,” said I. “No doubt about that.”

“That’s what I mean,” said Harold, eagerly. “So he must have been very…horsy. You know. Almost like a groom.”

“Go on,” said everyone.

“Well, when he said ‘fifteen,’
d’you think he might have meant ‘hands’
– the measure you use when you’re telling a horse’s height? I mean, it would be very easy – for Studd, I mean: and fifteen by four is sixty. That makes five feet. And that’s much nearer the milestone…”

His eyes ablaze with excitement, his voice tailed on. Jonah was down on his knees, with one hand against the milestone and his palms side by side on the turf.

“Harold,” said Berry, with emotion, “I give you best. You’re right, of course. I know it. Whether the stuff’s there or not, we all of us know you’re right.” He laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’re the
deus ex machina
, Harold – the god that rolls up in the car to put everything straight. And I have the honour to thank you for turning a hideous failure into what I’m ready to bet will be a yelling success.”

Twenty minutes later, fifteen handbreadths from the milestone, the spade I was using disclosed the remains of something that was not soil.

I do not know what it had been, for its many years of burial had corrupted it out of all knowledge and very near brought it to dust. I think, perhaps, it had been a wallet.

I gave my spade to my cousin and used my hands. When I touched it, the stuff gave way, and my hand went into a hollow – a slight, irregular crevice, which might have been the inside of what, when first it was there, was a stout, leather bag.

At once I felt some object, and, closing my fingers upon it, I drew it out.

It was flat and small and oblong – and made of gold.

In fact, it was an exquisite snuff-box.

When Perdita had wiped it, the Royal Arms of England, beautifully done in enamel, blazed at us from the lid. And within was engraved the cipher – of the man to whom it had been given, from whom it had been stolen away.

Seven days had gone by.

The doll’s house stood in our meadows, the Knave was lying down with the mule in his own domain, and Horace and Harold were standing by the library table, regarding a box and two pistols with saucer eyes.

“And there you are,” said Berry. “Studd stopped Great-great-uncle Bertram and robbed him of all he had. The money, no doubt, he spent, but he dared not dispose of the snuff-box because of the arms on the lid. So he buried it by the wayside. He never dug it up, and when he was about to be hanged, he tried to put matters right. He left his pistols to Bertram, and hidden in one of those was a note of the place. He hoped he’d find it, of course. He never did, but, er, one of his scions did. And he went to the place and, thanks to, er, divine intervention, he found the box. So after many years, poor Bertram’s honour was cleared. He’d never staked the snuff-box at all. It had been taken off him by Studd.”

“And yet he was hanged for it,” said Horace. “You know, he ought to have spoken. Then they could have gone to the place and dug the pistols up.”

As soon as he could speak—

“I never thought of that,” said Berry, uncertainly.

Harold began to shake with laughter.

How Jill Enjoyed Herself, and Len

and Winnie were Made to Waste Valuable Time

Berry lighted a fresh cigar, tossed the match into the river and then lay back on the rug we had spread on the turf.

“This,” he said, “was the site of the pediluvium.”

A sweet-smelling ghost beside me lifted her voice.

“I’m almost afraid,” she said, “to ask what that was.”

“Where the monks washed their feet,” said Berry. “Once a week we used to do what we could. And when we were through, the water was sold to the faithful at fourpence a pint.”

Jill’s voice lightened the darkness.

“You are disgusting,” she said.

“Not at all,” said Berry. “If it did them no good, at least it did them no harm, and out of the proceeds we erected a private brewery which had to be smelt to be believed. The abbot declared it open by flooring a quart at one draught.”

“Abbots didn’t drink beer,” said Jill.

“I beg your pardon,” said Berry: “I never drank anything else. During my, er, supremacy the community was also enriched by the provision of a fried-fish-pond, two shocking squints and an elegant bear garden where the monks could rough-house. All traces of these have, I regret to see, disappeared.”

There had been no cool of the day, but with nightfall a slant of air had stolen up from the sea, moving on the face of the river that used to serve the abbey whose bones it keeps. No relics are better cared for. As jewels upon a cushion, the rags and tatters of glory, the broken pieces of magnificence are presented upon a fair lawn – smooth as a bowling-green, stuck here and there with flowers. A strip of pavement speaks for the chapter-house: an exquisite row of arches tells of ‘the studious cloister’ it once adorned: a lonely pulpit remembers the lector’s voice: odd columns, steps that lead nowhere, a window without a wall and doorways that have survived the courts they shut show forth The Preacher’s sentence, ‘All is vanity.’

We had, really, no right to be there. At dusk the precincts are closed to the public view. But the spot had found favour in our eyes, and when we were ousted at sundown, we made up our minds to come back. Daphne and Jonah were gone – to dine alone at White Ladies and answer some telephone call, but the girls and Berry and I had supped at the village inn. We had then returned to the abbey and, berthing the Rolls in the shadows, had clambered, none too easily, over a wall…

Deserving nothing at all, we had our reward.

A crescent moon was commending another world, where ruins, lawns and water made up a stately pleasance fit for the ease of kings. Here were no tears. The past was not dead, but sleeping: and the present was too rare to be true. Reality was transfigured before us. All the world became a stage, the scenery of which was enchanted.

“Is the Rolls’ bonnet locked?” said Berry, out of the blue.

“It is,” said I. “Why d’you ask?”

“I wondered,” said Berry. “That’s all.”

Perdita lifted her voice.

“I know why he asked,” she said. “Because of those men who were having a meal at
The Drum
.”

“I won’t deny it,” said Berry. “I may be wrong, but I found them unattractive, and I think they’d look very well in a prison yard.”

“I entirely agree,” said I. “As ugly a couple of toughs as ever I saw. More than ugly. Evil. But people who own a sports Lowland don’t go about stealing cars.”

“I know,” said Berry, “I know. But neither do wallahs like that come down to a place like this to study the pretty secrets of country life. And they took a marked interest in us, as no doubt you saw.”

“They did,” said Perdita Boyte. “And I cannot think why – unless they’re bent on some crime and they have an idea that our presence may cramp their style.”

“I trust that it won’t,” said Berry. “I should simply hate to obstruct two gentry like that.”

I saw Jill glance over her shoulder.

“If they knew we were here,” I said quickly, “I think their suspicions would fade. I can hardly conceive a locality less suited to the activities of a crook.”

But Berry did better still.

“There was once,” he announced, “a King, whose looking-glass told him the truth. One day his councillors suggested that the principal town of the kingdom should be bypassed without delay. The King listened to their proposals.

“Then—

“‘Half a minute,’ he said, and whipped upstairs to the bathroom, to have a word with his glass.

“The latter heard him out. Then—

“‘Your crown’s not straight,’ it said shortly.

“‘Damn my crown,’ said the King. ‘What about this bypass business?’

“‘That’s all right,’ said the glass. ‘Only take it round by the south.’

“‘South?’ cried the King. ‘But they’ve planned to take it round by the north.’

“‘So would you,’ said the glass, ‘
if you’d bought all the land on that side
. Of course, if you want to present them with half a million pounds…’

“As soon as he could speak—

“‘The dirty dogs,’ said the King. ‘The–’

“‘Now don’t be hasty,’ said the glass. ‘Besides, people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw bricks.’

“‘Are you suggesting,’ said the King, ‘that I have ever–’

“‘I was looking ahead,’ said the glass, darkly. ‘Have you any idea what they’re asking for Bramble Bush?’

“There was a pregnant silence. The estate of Bramble Bush had been in the market for years. What was more to the point, it lay south of the principal town.

“‘Oh, and while you’re here,’ said the glass, ‘you’ve got some egg on your–’

“But the King was gone.

“Two days later Bramble Bush passed to the crown, and, twenty-four hours after that, the King informed his council that the bypass must go to the south of the principal town.

“‘You can’t do that,’ said everyone.

“‘What d’you mean – can’t?’ said the King.

“‘Well, it’s not convenient, for one thing,’ said Privy Seal.

“‘Yes, it is,’ said the King. ‘Most convenient. If you take it through Bramble Bush–’

“‘Can’t do that,’ said Green Cloth. ‘The owner of Bramble Bush will never give us his land.’

“‘Of course he won’t,’ said the King: ‘but everyone knows he’ll sell it. Bramble Bush has been in the market for years.’

“‘And why?’ said Green Cloth. ‘
Because Buy Bramble Bush, buy troubl
e is the motto of the house.’

“‘Go on,’ said the King, paling.

“‘Fact,’ said Gold Stick, shortly. ‘As trustees of the kingdom’s welfare, we can hardly fly in the face of–’

“‘Half a minute,’ said the King, rising, and ran upstairs to his glass.

“‘You’re a good one,’ he said. ‘What about this motto?’

“‘What motto?’ said the glass.

“‘
Buy Bramble Bush, buy trouble
,’ said the King. ‘And I’ve bought the blasted place.’

“‘In that case,’ observed the glass, ‘the mischief is done. I told you not to be hasty. And I’ll tell you another thing – you’ll have to cut out that port. Your nose is getting all gnarled.’

“With a frightful effort, the King controlled his voice.

“‘One thing at a time,’ he said thickly. ‘What about Bramble Bush?’

“‘Well, you can’t go back,’ said the glass, ‘so you’d better go on. Tell them to lock up their motto and lose the key.’

“The King returned to the council-room.

“‘I decline,’ he said, ‘to pander to superstition. The bypass will proceed – to the south. Let the plans be prepared and submitted in two days’ time.’

“Half an hour later his solicitor rang him up.

“‘I say,’ he said, ‘do you want to sell Bramble Bush?’

“‘I might,’ said the King. ‘Who to?’

“‘I’m told it’s a syndicate,’ said the solicitor. ‘Anyway I can get you a profit of fifty thousand pounds.’

“‘Good enough,’ said the King. ‘Accept the offer at once. And don’t you take any cheques. The money must be in my bank by tomorrow night.’

“‘Consider it done,’ said the lawyer. ‘I suppose you don’t want to buy land to the north of the principal town?’

“The King’s heart leaped like a trout.

“‘I might,’ he said, ‘provided it wasn’t too dear.’

“Two days later the King informed his council that he had changed his mind.

“‘To use,’ he declared, ‘the beautiful words of Gold Stick – words, my friends, with which I am sure you concur – as trustees of the kingdom’s welfare, we must not fly in the face of writing upon the wall.
Buy Bramble Bush, buy trouble
may or may not be true: but if we were to purchase it out of the public funds and if thereafter misfortune were to fall upon my people, we should never forgive ourselves. In a word, my friends, I was wrong – and you were right. The bypass must be made to the north, and the land had better be purchased without delay.’

“So the King made a profit of a quarter of a million pounds, most of which, because he was kindly, he gave to the poor, while the councillors lost a packet – as they deserved. And the motto which Green Cloth had coined became a proverb, and the looking-glass was given a golden frame. But that wasn’t much good, for, only a fortnight later, it made itself so offensive about a little melon the King had left on his ears that he tore it down and had it cast into a well. And there you may see it shining, if ever you look down a well on a sunny day.

“Now that’s one of the tales I used to tell the monks after Benedictine. It’s not surprising they worshipped me. I used to have to have a new habit once a month.”

“Why?” said Jill.

Berry waved his cigar.

“Veneration,” he said simply. “They kissed the hem so much, they wore it away.”

Here the Knave rose up where he was and let out a growl.

His eyes were upon the river, the half of which was in darkness because of the pride of chestnuts which neighboured the opposite bank: but though we watched and listened, we neither saw nor heard any sign of life, and after a full two minutes the dog dismissed the matter and laid himself down on the sward.

“Water rat,” said Berry, yawning. “And, much as I hate to remind you, if we’re to be home by midnight I think we ought to be gone.”

As we made our way past the ruins, a hand came to rest on my shoulder and Perdita breathed in my ear.

“That wasn’t a water rat.”

I tucked a slim arm beneath mine and lowered my head.

“I know,” I said. “I think it was the dip of a paddle. But what if it was? The river is open to all.”

“I know. But there’s something wrong. Don’t think I’m afraid. I’m not. But there’s something that’s really wicked abroad tonight.”

“There’s a witch abroad,” said I, “if that’s what you mean – with the scent of flowers in her hair and the breath of the dawn on her lips.”

“Don’t be stupid. I mean what I say.”

“So do I,” said I. “You’re dangerous enough by day: but by night you seduce the senses – and that’s the truth.”

Miss Boyte withdrew her arm.

“Will you be serious?” she said.

“I am being serious,” I said. “Come all the Powers of Darkness, and I’ll commend your charm.”

“I can’t do more than warn you. You know that when I sense something—”

With a sudden movement, I picked her up in my arms.

“I know you’re wise,” I said. “I know you’ve a curious sense that we haven’t got. And you know that I honour it blindly – I will tonight. But what you don’t know is that you are so lovely and natural that when you confide in a man he can think of nothing at all but his
confidante
. It’ll pass, of course. I’ll pull myself together before we get to the Rolls. But it’s…rather fun to let the world slip for a moment…especially if, as you say, there’s trouble ahead.”

A child laid her head against mine.

“Don’t I know that it is?” she said softly. “And now put me down, there’s a dear. Remember, we’ve got Jill with us. And I give you my word I’ll be glad when we’re under way.”

Her saying brought me up with a jerk. If Perdita Boyte was excelling each mortal thing, my cousin was ‘such stuff as dreams are made on’ – a very delicate texture, to be used with infinite care…

Three minutes later I lifted the Rolls from the shadows into the moonlit mystery that stood for the Bloodstock road.

That we were being followed was perfectly clear. When we had entered the Rolls, I had neither seen nor heard any other car: but we had not been moving two minutes before a car had appeared, going the way we were going, a drive and a chip behind. Moving much faster than we, it had closed to a hundred paces or thereabouts: and there, at that distance, it stayed. Had it maintained the speed at which it approached, it must, of course, have passed us almost at once.

All this my mirror had told me, for the driver behind me was keeping his headlights dimmed.

When I made him free of my news, Berry, sitting beside me, smothered an oath.

“And the girls and all,” he growled. “What the ruby hell does it mean?”

“To be perfectly honest,” said I, “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Assume it’s those wallahs we saw – well, what in the world’s their game? Robbery’s out of the question. The stuff the girls are wearing wouldn’t make twenty pounds.”

“I can only suppose,” said I, “that they are mistaking us for somebody else. Do you connect them at all with the water rat?”

“I would if I could, but I can’t. You can’t connect two things with a chain of missing links. That sound was the dip of a paddle – I’ll lay to that: and I have an idea that someone was holding water under the opposite bank. They may have been there to watch us: or they may have stayed in the shadows because they didn’t want to be seen: then again they may have been lovers… I’m damned if I know what to think.”

“Shall I have a dart,” said I, “at shaking these fellows off?”

“Why not?” said my brother-in-law.

I put down my foot.

However, our luck was out, for the bend ahead was hiding a level-crossing whose gates were shut.

Before these a car was waiting, and as I drew up in its wake, I saw that its doors were open and uniformed police were standing on either side.

“Hullo,” said Berry, “a hold-up. That’s what it is. The police are using the crossing to stop all cars. Now how will our friends like this? Are they going to submit to inspection? Or as soon as they see the police, will they do a bunk?”