Jonah and Co. (18 page)

“I was not,” said I.

Berry returned to the book.

“
He should return these civilities in kind, but he should avoid turning the conversation on serious matters, and should, above all, refrain from expressing an opinion on religious or political questions.
I do hope you didn’t…”

I shook my head.

“Then,” said Berry, “should we meet the child again, I shall cut him dead. And that’s that. And now let’s go and find a dairy. You’ll be wanting a pick-me-up.”

For an hour and a half we went about the city.

We marked her bulwarks, we told her towers, we observed her mansions, we strolled upon her terraces, we enjoyed her prospects.

Last of all, we visited the Calle del Puerto.

Before we had taken a dozen paces along the aged alley, a faint odour of perfume began to assert itself, and a few seconds later we were standing before a tiny shop, scrupulously sweet and clean to look upon, absurdly suggestive of the patronage of marionettes. A curtain of apple-green canvas was swaying in the low doorway, while an awning of the same stuff guarded a peepshow window, which was barely three feet long and less than one foot high. Herein, ranged behind a slab of fine plate glass, stood three plain, stoppered phials, one rose-coloured, one green, and one a faint yellow. Below, on a grey silk pillow, was set a small vellum-bound book. This was open. In capitals of gold upon the pages displayed were two words only – PARFUMS FRANÇAIS.

The effect was charming.

We gathered about the window, ejaculating surprise.

“
Urbs in rure
,” said Jonah. “And then you’re wrong. The Rue de la Paix isn’t in it.”

Which is a description I cannot better.

Daphne lifted the portière, and we followed her in.

Passing suddenly out of the brilliant sunshine, we could at first see nothing. Then gradually the interior of the shop took shape.

There was no counter, but an oblong mahogany glass-topped table, standing in the centre of the polished floor, evidently was discharging that office. Upon this stood three other phials, similar to those displayed in the window, but fitted with sprays instead of stoppers. In front of each a grey gold-lettered slip of silk, laid between the glass and the mahogany, declared its contents – ROSE BLEUE…LYS NOIR…JASMIN GRIS.

The room was very low, and the walls were panelled. Upon these, except for that framing the door and window, were rows of shelves. On these, at decent intervals, stood phials of four different sizes. To judge from the colour of their glass, each wall was devoted to one of the three scents. That facing us was green, that on our left rose-coloured, that upon our right a faint yellow. A black curtain in a corner suggested a doorway leading to another part of the house. The air, naturally enough, was full of perfume.

We stared about us in silence.

After waiting perhaps five minutes, peering unsuccessfully behind the curtain, raising our voices in talk, and finally rapping upon the table without attracting attendance, we decided to return to where we had left the cars and visit the shop again on our way out of the town.

As we came to the Plaza, the clock of the great church announced the hour. A quarter to one.

“Good Heavens!” cried Daphne, checking the time by her wrist-watch. “I’d no idea it was so late. And I left word for Evelyn to ring me up at the hotel at one o’clock.” We made a rush for the cars. “Can it be done, Jonah?”

“Only by air,” said my cousin. “Outside a track, thirteen miles in fourteen minutes is just a shade too thick. Still, there’s nothing the matter with the road after Irun, and Evelyn may be delayed getting through.”

He swung himself into Ping and started her up. My sister and Jill scrambled aboard while he was turning her round. As he headed for the Calle Mayor —

“Stop!” shrieked his sister. “The scent, Jonah, the scent. We’ve got to go back.”

Jonah threw out the clutch.

“We’ll get that!” cried Adèle. “You go on, and we’ll follow.”

“Right.”

The next moment Ping had dropped out of sight.

It was perhaps five minutes later that, after conjuring Berry to stay where he was and move the car for nobody, I assisted my wife on to the pavement.

When Fuenterrabia was planned, an eleven-feet-six wheel-base was not considered. To wheedle Pong to the mouth of the Calle del Puerto had been a ticklish business, and I had berthed her deliberately with an eye to our departure for the city gate, rather than to the convenience of such other vehicles as might appear. Besides, for my brother-in-law to have essayed manoeuvres in such surroundings would have been asking for trouble.

As Adèle and I hastened along the street —

“We must look sharp,” I insisted. “She’s half across the fairway. If anybody with anything broader than a mule feels they can’t wait, there’ll be murder done.”

We came to the shop, panting…

The place was just as we had left it, and – there was no one there.

I looked round impatiently.

“What on earth,” I began, “is the good of a—”

As I spoke, the curtain in the corner was pushed to one side, and a French girl entered the room.

Her manner was most curious.

For a moment she hesitated, as though she would turn and fly. Then, with her eyes upon Adèle, she moved slowly forward. She seemed to be making an effort to come and serve us. That she was most apprehensive was perfectly plain…

Halfway between curtain and table she stopped. Then she put a hand to her throat.

“
Madame
desires something?”

“Some scent, please,” said Adèle reassuringly.

Her cheerful tone appeared to encourage the girl. And when my wife pointed to the green phial and asked to be sprayed with its contents, I could have sworn her attitude was that of relief.

In a flash she had produced a small square of linen. This she handed to Adèle.

“Smell,
Madame
. See, it is scentless.
Pardon
.” She sprayed it with scent. “
Voilà
. That is the ‘Black Lily.’”

Adèle passed it to me. The scent was exquisite.

“It’s delicious,” said Adèle.

“Yes,
Madame
, it is good. Will
Madame
sample the others?”

“If you please.”

Fresh squares of linen were produced, offered for inspection, and sprayed…

Each perfume seemed more ravishing than its predecessor. To test the worth of this impression, we reverted to the ‘Black Lily.’ One breath of this satisfied us that it was the best of the lot. To be quite sure, we smelt the ‘Blue Rose,’ and were instantly convinced of its superiority to its fellows. A return to the ‘Grey Jasmine’ persuaded us that there was only one scent in the shop. It was, indeed, impossible to award the palm. Each perfume had some irresistible virtue which the others lacked.

When, at last, Adèle implored me to help her to a decision, I spoke to the point.

“There’s only one thing to do. We can’t wait now, so have a big bottle of each. Then you and Jill and Daphne can fight it out at home.”

Adèle asked the price of the scents.

“They are all the same price,
Madame
. The large bottle, one hundred
pesetas
– the others, seventy, fifty, and thirty, according to size.”

“Very well. I’ll take a large bottle of each.”

“Thank you,
Madame
.”

A prolonged and vicious croak from the end of the street argued that Berry’s patience was wearing thin, but to have asked the girl to make haste would have been supererogatory.

In a trice three phials had been taken down from their shelves, and three stout silk-lined cases, of the pattern of safety-match boxes, had been produced. The phial went into its tray, the tray into its sheath, the case complete into a sheet of rough grey paper, and the whole was girt with cord in next to no time.

As the last knot was being tied Adèle touched me upon the arm.

“I almost forgot,” she said. Then she turned to the girl. “I have been told to ask for your ‘Red Violets.’”

The scissors the girl was using fell to the floor. As she recovered them —

“Certainly,
Madame
,” she whispered, laying a trembling hand upon the curtain behind.

She disappeared, to reappear almost immediately with a package precisely similar to those she had just made up. She placed it with the others.

“Oh,” said Adèle, “but you haven’t—”

A perfect hurricane of croaks, mingled with cries of anger, interrupted her.

“Never mind,” I cried, gathering up the parcels. “How much is it now? Four hundred, I suppose.”

As I was counting the notes, a yell of anguish in Berry’s unmistakable accents fell upon my ears.

I threw the money upon the table and bolted out of the shop with Adèle at my heels…

As we came to the corner, I ran full tilt into – Eulalie. For an instant our eyes met, but she looked away pointedly, slipped to one side, and passed on…

Then —

“
Obstàculos
to you, sir!” roared Berry. “Look at my wing… Yes, I see the cabriolet. But what of that? It’s perfectly happy… No, it
didn’t
want to get by. And if it had – Oh, go and push yourself off somewhere.” Here he caught sight of me. “See what this greasy pantaloon’s done? I told him he hadn’t room, but he wouldn’t wait. And now he’s shoving it on to that cabriolet… Oh, why can’t I speak Spanish? I’d give him earache.”

I thrust our packages into the fold of the hood and ran to examine the wing. Happily the damage was slight. I announced this relievedly.

“I daresay it is,” raged Berry, as we resumed our seats. “What I object to is the poisonous hostility of the brute. He blinkin’ well meant to do it.”

“Dear, dear,” said Adèle, bubbling, “There must have been some misunderstanding. The Spaniard’s courtesy is proverbial.”

“Exactly,” said I. “The stranger is at first apt to be carried away by the exaggerated politeness of the—”

“You may be,” said Berry, “as blasphemous as you like, but, for the love of the home for little children, let’s get out of this town.”

I let in the clutch…

We were passing out of the beautiful armoried gateway, when an approaching peasant signalled to us to stop, and pointed excitedly back the way we had come. The fellow’s manner suggested that we had dropped something.

I pulled up the car, opened my door, and jumped out. As I did so, a breathless Eulalie appeared upon the other side of the car.

“I never thought I should catch you,” she said uncertainly. “My car got mixed up with that waggon, so I chanced it and ran. And, now I’m here, I hardly know how to tell you…” She addressed herself to Adèle. “But I fancy you’ve got my scent – ‘Red Violets.’ It’s rather – rather special. They only make it by request. And a friend of mine had ordered a bottle for me. It was put ready for me to call for, and, as far as I can make out, they’ve given it to you by mistake. I’m – I’m afraid I’m asking an awful lot, but might I have it? I’m leaving Spain altogether in half an hour, so I shan’t have another chance.”

I never remember feeling so utterly disillusioned. Recalling the telephone conversation of the day before, I was frankly disgusted. Such sharp practice as this smacked of a bargain sale.

The scent was ours. We had bought it fairly. Besides, it had
not
been reserved. If either Adèle or Eulalie had to go empty away, Law and Equity alike were pronouncing in favour of my wife.

Adèle was speaking.

“Oh, certainly. Boy, will you …?” I stepped into the car and thrust a hand into the fold of the hood. “I shall know which it is. The paper it’s wrapped in is different. There’s a line running through it, and the others were plain.” I plucked out a case and gave it to her to examine. “That’s right.” Gravely she handed it to Eulalie. “I’m sorry you had to run so,” she added gently.

The other shrugged her shoulders.

“I caught you,” she said simply, “and that’s the great thing.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And here comes my car. I’m really most awfully grateful…”

With a swish the cabriolet swept alongside, skidded with locked wheels upon the pavement, and fetched up anyhow with its bonnet across our bows. It was a piece of driving for which the chauffeur ought to have been flogged.

‘…most awfully grateful,” repeated Eulalie, swinging the case by its cord. “You – you might have made it much harder…”

The next moment she was in the cabriolet…

Dazedly I watched the latter float out of sight.

“B-but she hasn’t paid,” I stammered. “She’s never given us the money. Four pounds that bottle cost…”

We stared at one another in dismay. At length—

“Stung,” said Berry. “But what a beautiful bit of work! Four pounds’ worth of scent for the asking. No unpleasantness, no sleight of hand, no nothing. Just a glad eye last night and a two-minute run this morning. I don’t wonder she was grateful.”

We had spent the afternoon traversing San Sebastian, and had found the place good – so good, in fact, that it was past six before we returned to the hotel.

I followed Adèle upstairs rather wearily.

“I shall never get over this morning,” I said. “Never.” Arrived at our door, I fitted the key to the lock. “To think that I stood there and let you hand – Oh, blast! We’ve left the scent in the car.”

“So we have,” said Adèle. “What an awful nuisance! I knew we should. It’s fatal to put anything in that hood. You don’t see it.”

I pushed open the door.

“As soon as I’ve changed,” I said, switching on the light. “I’ll go and—”

The sentence was never finished.

Had I been told that a cyclone had struck our bedroom, I should not have been surprised.

Adèle and I stood staring at such a state of disorder as I had never dreamed of.

The bed had been dragged from the wall, and its clothes distributed about the room; the wardrobe and cupboards stood open: every drawer in the room was on the floor: our clothing had been flung, like soiled linen, into corners: my wife’s dressing-case had been forced, and now lay open, face downward, upon the carpet, while its contents sprawled upon a mattress: a chair had fallen backwards into the empty cabin-trunk, and the edge of a sheet had caught on one of its upturned legs…