Jonah and Co.

Jonah & Co

First published in 1922

© Estate of Dornford Yates; House of Stratus 1922-2011

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

The right of Dornford Yates to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.

This edition published in 2011 by House of Stratus, an imprint of

Stratus Books Ltd., Lisandra House, Fore Street, Looe,

Cornwall, PL13 1AD, UK.

Typeset by House of Stratus.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library and the Library of Congress.

This is a fictional work and all characters are drawn from the author’s imagination.

Any resemblance or similarities to persons either living or dead are entirely coincidental.

www.houseofstratus.com

Born ‘Cecil William Mercer’ into a middle class Victorian family with many Victorian skeletons in the closet, including the conviction for embezzlement from a law firm and subsequent suicide of his great-uncle, Yates’ parents somehow scraped together enough money to send him to Harrow.

The son of a solicitor, he at first could not seek a call to the Bar as he gained only a third class degree at Oxford. However, after a spell in a Solicitor’s office he managed to qualify and then practised as a Barrister, including an involvement in the Dr. Crippen Case, but whilst still finding time to contribute stories to the
Windsor Magazine
.

After the First World War, Yates gave up legal work in favour of writing, which had become his great passion, and completed some thirty books. These ranged from light-hearted farce to adventure thrillers. For the former, he created the
‘Berry’
books which established Yates’ reputation as a writer of witty, upper-crust romances. For the latter, he created the character
Richard Chandos
, who recounts the adventures of
Jonah Mansel
, a classic gentleman sleuth. As a consequence of his education and experience, Yates’ books feature the genteel life, a nostalgic glimpse at Edwardian decadence and a number of swindling solicitors.

In his hey day, and as testament to his fine writing, Dornford Yates’ work often featured in the bestseller list. Indeed,
‘Berry’
is one of the great comic creations of twentieth century fiction; the
‘Chandos’
titles also being successfully adapted for television. Along with Sapper and John Buchan, Yates dominated the adventure book market of the inter war years.

Finding the English climate utterly unbearable, Yates chose to live in the French Pyrenées for eighteen years, before moving on to Rhodesia (as was), where he died in 1960.

‘Mr Yates can be recommended to anyone who thinks the British take themselves too seriously.’ - Punch

‘We appreciate fine writing when we come across it, and a wit that is ageless united to a courtesy that is extinct’ - Cyril Connolly

To

ELM TREE ROAD

My Lady,

It is hard, sitting here, to believe that, if I would call for a cab, I could be in St James’s Street in less than ten minutes of time. Nevertheless, it is true. I have proved it so many times. Soon I shall prove it for the last time.

Better men than I will sit in this study and pace the lawn in the garden with the high walls. The lilies and laburnums and all the gay fellowship of flowers will find a new waterman. The thrushes and blackbirds and woodpigeons will find a new victualler. The private forecourt, so richly hung with creeper, will give back my footfalls no more. Other eyes will dwell gratefully upon the sweet pretty house and look proudly out of its leaded windowpanes.

The old order changeth, my lady. And so I am going, before I am driven out.

Nine years ago there was a farm upon the opposite side of the road – a little old English farm. Going out of my door of a morning, I used to meet ducks and geese that were taking the air. And horses came home at even, and cows lowed. Now the farm is gone, and a garage has taken its room. And other changes have come, and others still are coming.

So, you see, my lady, it is high time I was gone.

This quiet study has seen the making of my books. This – the last it will see – I make bold to offer to you for many reasons, but mainly because, for one thing, this house belongs to you and, for another, no hostess was ever so charming to the stranger within her gates.

I have the honour to be,

Your ladyship’s humble servant,

DORNFORD YATES.

Number Six.

How Berry Stepped into the Breach,

and Jonah Came First and was First Served

“Shall I massage it?” said Berry. The suggestion was loudly condemned.

“Right,” replied my brother-in-law. “That reduces us to faith-healing. On the command ‘One,’ make your mind a blank – that shouldn’t be difficult – realise that the agony you aren’t suffering is imaginary, and close both legs. One! On the command ‘Two’—”

“You can go,” I said wearily. “You can go. I’ll write to you when I want you. Don’t bother to leave your address.”

“But how vulgar,” said Berry. “How very vulgar.” He paused to glance at his watch. “Dear me! Half past ten, and I haven’t had my beer yet.” He stepped to the door. “Should the pain become excruciating, turn upon the stomach and repeat Kipling’s ‘If.’ Should—”

My sister and Jill fairly bundled him out of the doorway.

Sitting by my side upon the bed, Adèle laid her cheek against mine.

“Is it any better, old chap?”

“The pain’s practically stopped,” said I, “thank Heaven. Putting it up’s done that. But I’m in for a stiff leg, dear. I know that. Not that that matters really, but it means I can’t drive.”

It was unfortunate that, before I had been upon French soil for half an hour, I should be kicked by a testy cab horse of whose existence – much less proximity – thanks to the poor lighting of Boulogne, I had been totally unaware. I had been kicked upon the same knee in 1916. On that occasion I had gone with a stiff leg for a fortnight. It seemed unpleasantly probable that history would wholly repeat itself.

“I can travel,” I continued. “I shall be able to walk with a stick, but I shan’t be able to drive. And, as Jonah can’t drive more than one car at a time, Berry’ll have to take the other.”

At my words Daphne started, and Jill gave a little cry.

“B-but, Boy, he’s only had three lessons.”

“I know, but he’ll get through somehow. I’ll sit by his side. It’ll shorten my life, of course, but what else can we do? Even if Fitch was here, there’s no room for a chauffeur. And you’d find towing tedious after the first five hundred miles.”

With a white forefinger to her lips, my sister regarded me.

“I know he’s a disgrace,” she said slowly, “but he’s – he’s the only husband I’ve got, Boy, and – he has his points,” she concluded softly with the tenderest smile.

I stretched out a hand and drew her towards me.

“Isn’t he my only brother, darling? Isn’t he – Berry? I’ll see he comes to no harm.”

“You really think it’s safe?”

“Perfectly. For one thing, I shall be able to reach the handbrake rather more easily than he will…”

My sister kissed me.

“I like the sound of that,” she said cheerfully.

It was the fifth day of November, and all six of us were for the Pyrenees.

A month ago Adèle and I, new-wed, had visited Pau. We had found the place good, conceived the idea of spending the winter there, and wired for instructions. Within three days we had received four letters.

The first was from Jill.

ADÈLE DARLING,

How sweet of you both to think of it! We’re all simply thrilled. Try and get one with a palm-tree and some wisteria. We miss you awfully. Tell Boy Nobby is splendid and sends his love. Oh, and he smells his coat every day. Isn’t it pathetic? My hair won’t go like yours, but I’m going to try again. All our love to you and your HUSBAND,

JILL.

Then came Jonah’s.

DEAR BOY,

What about tobacco? You might examine the chances of smuggling. I’m sending you a hundred cigarettes conspicuously labelled BENGER’S FOOD, to see what happens. I suppose the roads are pretty bad. What about fishing?

Yours,

JONAH.

(I subsequently received a curt communication to the effect that there was a package, addressed to me and purporting to contain “
Farine
,” lying at the local custom-house. Adèle was horrified. I endeavoured to reassure her, tore up the notice, and cursed my cousin savagely. When three days had passed, and I was still at liberty, Adèle plucked up heart, but, for the rest of our visit, upon sight of a
gendarme
she was apt to become distrait and lose the thread of her discourse.)

A letter from Daphne had arrived the next day.

DEAREST ADÈLE,

We’re all delighted with the idea.

I don’t think six months would be too long. I agree that a villa would be much the best, and we’re perfectly content to leave the selection to you. You know what room we must have. I suppose two bathrooms would be too much to expect. About servants: we can bring some, but I think we ought to have a French cook to do the marketing, and perhaps one other to keep her company and help in the kitchen and house. Will you see what you can do? Plate and linen, of course, we can bring. By the way, Madge Willoughby tells me that last year in France they had some difficulty about coal, so tell Boy to see if he can order some now. All this, of course, if you can get a villa.

Your loving sister,

DAPHNE.

Berry’s came last.

DEAR BROTHER,

So we shall ourselves winter this year at Pau? Eh bien! There are, perhaps, worse places. At least, the sun will shine. Ma foi, to think that upon you depend all the arrangements. Tant pis! My suite must face itself south and adjoin the bathroom. Otherwise I cannot answer for my health, or, for the matter of that, yours either.

Kindly omit from your next letter any reference to the mountains. “Impressions of the Pyrenees” by a fool who has been married for less than three weeks not only are valueless, but make my gorge rise – une élévation très dangereuse.

Which brings me to your wife. How is the shrew? Tell her I have some socks for her to darn on her return.

It was thoughtful of you to emphasise the fact that the season of green figs, to a surfeit of which I sincerely hope you will succumb, will be over before I reach Pau. I am inclined to think that the five hundred cigars George sent you will be over even earlier. Besides, I shall at once console and distend myself with foie gras.

We must have a French cook, of course – a very priestess of Gluttony – skilful to lure the timid appetite from the fastness of satiety. Enfin…

I ask myself why I shall have made the trouble to write to you. You have, of course, an opportunity unique of making a mess with a copper bottom of my life for six months. Mais, mon Dieu, que vous serez puni!

Je t’embrasse, vieil haricot, sur les deux joues.

BERRY.

P.S. – This here letter is a talisman, and should be worn upon the exterior of the abdominal wall during a drought.

Considering the nature of our holiday, Adèle and I did not do so badly. Before we left Pau, I had signed the lease of an attractive villa, standing well in its own grounds and commanding a prospect of the mountains as fine as could be. Adèle had engaged a Frenchwoman and her daughter, both of whom were well spoken of, and had been in the service of English and American families before the War. A supply of fuel had been reserved and various minor arrangements had been concluded. Ere we were back at White Ladies, October was old.

It had been Jonah’s belated suggestion that our migration should be accomplished by car. It was Jonah’s enterprise that reduced the upheaval of our plans, consequent upon the instant adoption of his idea, to order and convenience. By the third of November everything had been arranged. The heavier stuff had been embarked for Bordeaux; the servants were ready to accompany the rest of the luggage by way of Paris; the Rolls had been sold. In the latter’s place we had purchased two smaller cars – both new, both of the same make, both coupés, both painted blue. Indeed, but for their numbers, which were consecutive, we could not have told them apart. Each seated three inside – comfortably, while a respectable quantity of baggage could be easily bestowed in each of the capacious boots.

Certainly my cousin’s staff work had been superb.

In the circumstances it seemed hardly fair that upon this, the first night of our venture, he should be faced with the labour of shepherding both cars, single-handed, first clear of the Customs, and then, one by one, through the cold, dark streets which led from the quay to the garage of the hotel.

As if she had read my thought – “Poor Jonah!” said Adèle suddenly. “I wonder—”

A knock upon the door interrupted her.

This, being opened, admitted Nobby, two porters, our luggage, two waiters, a large dish of sandwiches, some beer, coffee and its accessories, Jonah, and finally Berry.

“You must be tired,” said the latter. “Let’s sit down, shall I?” He sank into a chair. “And how’s the comic
patella
? I well remember, when I was in Plumbago, a somewhat similar accident. A large cherry-coloured
gibus
, on its wrong side—”

“At the present moment,” said I, wrestling with the Sealyham’s advances, “we’re more concerned with your future than with your past. It’s the Bank of England to a ha’p’orth of figs that tomorrow morning I shall have a stiff leg. Very good.” I paused. “Those three lessons you’ve had,” I added carelessly, “will come in useful.”

Jonah, who was filling a tumbler, started violently and spilled some beer. Then he leaned against the wall and began to laugh helplessly.

Coldly Berry regarded him.

“I fail,” he said stiffly, “to see the point of your mirth. I gather that it is proposed to enjoy my services for the propulsion of one of the automobiles – that, while you will be responsible for the ‘shoving’ of Ping, these delicate hands will flick Pong across France. Very good. Let the Press be informed; call forth the ballad-mongers. What would have been a somewhat sordid drive will become a winged flight, sublime and deathless.”

“I trust so,” said Jonah. “Six hundred miles with a fool at the wheel is a tall order, but, if your companions survive the first two days, they ought to pull through. Try not to do more than five pounds’ worth of damage to the gallon, won’t you?”

“Sour grapes,” said Berry. “The professional reviles the distinguished amateur.”

“Seriously,” said I, “it’s no laughing matter.”

“I agree,” said Daphne. “You’ll have to just crawl along all the way. After all, we’ve got six months to get there in. Promise me you won’t try and pass anything.”

“I promise,” replied her husband. “Should another vehicle approach, I’ll stop the engine and go and hide in a wood till it’s gone.”

“Fool,” said his wife. “I meant ‘overtake anything’ of course. You know I did. Promise you won’t try and rush past things just to get in front of them.”

I took up the cudgels.

“We’ve got to get along, darling, and he can’t give a promise like that. You wouldn’t want to do fifty miles behind a traction engine, would you? Remember, I shall be by his side. He may be holding the wheel, but I shall be driving the car. Make him promise to obey me implicitly, if you like.”

“That’s right,” said Jill. “You will, won’t you, Berry?”

The latter looked at Adèle.

“Do you also subscribe to my humiliation?” he said.

Adèle smiled and nodded.

“Unquestionably,” she said. “By the time you get to Pau, you’ll be an expert. And then you can teach me.”

“The pill-gilder,” said my brother-in-law. “Well, well. So far as in me lies, I’ll do as I’m told. But I insist upon plain English. I’m not going to be suddenly yelled at to ‘double-clutch,’ or ‘feel the brake,’ or ‘close the throttle,’ or something. It makes me want to burst into tears. That fellow who was teaching me asked me, without any warning and in the middle of some sheep, what I should do if one of my ‘big ends were to run out.’ I said I should consult a specialist, but the question upset me. Indirectly, it also upset the shepherd… Which reminds me, I never knew a human being could jump so far. The moment he felt the radiator…”

“You never told us this,” said Daphne reproachfully. “If I’d known you’d knocked somebody down—”

“I never knocked him down,” said Berry. “I tell you he jumped… We stopped, of course, and explained. He was a little nettled at first, but we parted on the best of terms.”

“It’s all very well,” said my sister, “but I’d no idea—”

“Every dog must have his bite,” said I, laughing. “He won’t do it again. And now, since I’m tethered, will somebody give me some beer?”

Then and there supper was consumed.

A vigorous discussion of the turn events had taken, and the advancement and scrutiny of a variety of high speculations regarding the probable style of our progress to Pau, prevailed until past twelve o’clock, but at length the others were evicted, and Adèle, Nobby, and I were able to prepare for the night.

Out of the luxurious silence of a hot bath Adèle’s voice came floating into the bedroom.

“Boy!”

“Yes, lady?”

“I wish I was going with you tomorrow instead of Daphne.”

“So do I,” I said heartily.

Adèle sighed. Then —

“It can’t be helped,” she said. “I think, on the whole, she would have worried more than I shall.”

“Not a doubt of it,” said I cheerfully. “As she said, Berry’s the only husband she’s got.”

Adèle choked. Presently —

“The real reason,” she said, “is because she mistrusts her husband even more than I trust mine.”

When I had worked this out —

“Aha,” I said pleasedly.

“But then, of course,” said Adèle, “she’s been married much longer.”

With Rouen as our objective, we left Boulogne the next morning at ten o’clock. To speak more accurately, we left the hotel at ten o’clock and Boulogne itself some forty minutes later. The negotiation of an up-gradient leading out of the town was responsible for the delay.

My sister and I shall remember that hill so long as we live. So, I imagine, will Berry. We were halfway up when he stopped the engine for the first time. We were still halfway up when he stopped it for the eighth time. Indeed, it was at this juncture that I suggested that he should rest from his labours and smoke a cigarette.