Jonah and Co. (19 page)

“Adèle! Boy!” The swish of a skirt, and there was my sister behind us. “Our room’s been – Good Heavens, yours is the same! Whatever’s the meaning of it?”

Within three minutes two managers and three clerks were on the scene. To do them justice, they were genuinely perturbed. Fresh rooms – a magnificent suite – were put at our disposal: under our own eyes our belongings were gathered into sheets and carried to our new quarters: maids were summoned and placed at the girls’ service: valets were sent for: the dressing-case was sent to be repaired: we were begged at our convenience to report whether there were any valuables we could not find, and over and over again we were assured that the management would not rest until the thieves were taken: jointly and severally we were offered profound apologies for so abominable an outrage.

Berry and Jonah, who had been taking the cars to the garage, arrived in the midst of the removal.

Upon the circumstances being laid before my brother-in-law, he seemed for some time to be deprived of the power of speech, and it was only upon being shown the contents of a sheet which had just been conveyed by two valets into his wife’s bedroom that he at last gave tongue.

Drawing a pair of dress trousers from beneath a bath towel, a pair of brogues, and a box of chocolates, he sobbed aloud.

“You all,” he said brokenly, “do know these trousers: I remember the first time ever I did put them on; ’twas on a summer’s evening, in the Park…”

With one accord and some asperity my sister and I requested him to desist.

“All right,” he said. “But why worry? I know there’s nothing valuable gone, because in that case I should have been told long ago. We’ve been shocked and inconvenienced, of course; but, to balance it, we’ve got a topping suite, a private sitting-room thrown in, and a whole fleet of bottle-washers in attendance, all stamping to wash and iron and brush our clothes as they’ve never been brushed before. Jonah’s and Jill’s rooms all right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let them move along, anyway. Then we shall all be together. And now, if we’ve got any sense, we shall let this sympathetic crowd straighten up everything – they’re simply bursting for the word ‘Go!’ – and gather round the fire, which I see they’ve lighted, and talk about something else.”

This was sound advice.

A close acquaintance with crime – the feeling that a robber has handled her personal effects, mauled her apparel, trodden her own sanctuary – is bound to jangle a sensitive woman’s nerves. The less the girls thought upon the matter, the better for them…

Orders were given, a sofa was drawn towards the hearth, Jonah went to seek some champagne, and I slipped on a coat and left the hotel for the garage.

When I returned some twenty minutes later, Adèle had discovered a piano and was playing “Whispering,” while the others were dancing with as much freedom from care as they might have displayed at a night-club.

When I laid the scent on the table, the dance died, and Daphne, Adèle, and Jill crowded about me.

“One for each of you,” I said. “With my love. But wait one moment.” I turned to Adèle. “How did you tell the ‘Red Violets’ from the others?”

“It’s paper had a line—”

I pointed to the three parcels.

“So have they all,” I said. “It depends on the way the light strikes it. One moment you see it, and the next you can’t.”

My wife examined the packages in turn. “You’re perfectly right,” she said. Then, “Good Heavens!” she cried. “Perhaps I gave that woman the wrong one, after all.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“I don’t suppose she cared. What’s in a name? They’re each of them worth four pounds.”

“That’s true,” said Adèle musingly. “Still…”

We opened them one by one.

The first was the Black Lily.

Then came the Grey Jasmine.

I ripped the paper off the third case and laid it upon the table.

With my fingers about the cardboard, I paused.

“And what,” said I, “is the betting?”

“Blue Rose,” cried Jill.

“Red Violets,” said Adèle.

I opened the case.

They were both wrong.

The tray contained no perfume at all.

Crammed into the form of a scent-bottle was a dirty huddle of wash-leather.

I lifted it out between my finger and thumb.

The diamond and emerald necklace which lay beneath must have been worth a quarter of a million.

“Yes,” said the British Vice-Consul, some two hours later, “this little seaside town is a sort of Thieves’ Parlour. Four-fifths of the stuff that’s stolen in Spain goes out of the country this way. As in the present case, the actual thief daren’t try to cross the frontier, but he’s always got an accomplice waiting at San Sebastian. We know the thieves all right – at least, the police do, but the accomplices are the devil. Often enough, they go no further than Biarritz, and there are so many of the Smart Set constantly floating between the two towns that they’re frightfully hard to spot. In fact, about the only chance is to trace their connection with the thief. What I mean is this. A’s got the jewels and he’s got to pass them to B. That necessitates some kind of common denominator. Either they’ve got to meet or they’ve got to visit – at different times, of course – the same bureau…

“Well, there you are.

“By the merest accident you stumbled upon the actual communication of the password by A to B. The voice you heard upon the telephone was that of the original thief, or of his representative. This morning you visited the actual bureau. I know the place well. My wife’s bought scent there. It’s always been a bit of a mystery, but I never suspected this. I’ve not the slightest doubt it’s been used as a bureau for years. Well, in all innocence you gave the password, and in all innocence received the gems. B arrives too late, finds that you have them, and starts in pursuit. I’ve no doubt she really ran on to see which way you’d gone. She couldn’t have hoped to catch you on foot. Of course, she couldn’t understand how you’d come by the password, but the few words you’d had with her the night before made her
suspect your innocence
. Still, she wasn’t sure, and that’s why her chauffeur fetched up across your bows.”

“You don’t mean—”

“I do indeed. If you hadn’t handed them over, they’d have been taken by force…

“Well, finding that either by accident or design she’s been sold a pup, B communicates with the gang, and, while you’re out, your rooms are ransacked.”

“And I walked,” I said, “after dark from the Calle de Miracruz to this hotel with the baubles under my arm.”

The Vice-Consul laughed.

“The armour of ignorance,” he said, “will sometimes turn the keenest wits. The confidence it gives its wearer is proverbial.”

“But why,” said Adèle, “was the shop-girl so terribly nervous? I mean, if she’s used to this sort of traffic…”

The Vice-Consul fingered his chin.

Then he picked up the jewels.

“Perhaps,” he said slowly, “perhaps she knew where they came from.”

“Where was that?” said Daphne.

The Vice-Consul frowned.

“When I last saw them,” he said, “they were in the Royal Treasury.”

At half past ten the next morning I was walking upon the golf links of St Jean-de-Luz.

I was not there of choice.

Two very eminent detectives – one French and one Spanish – were upon either side of me.

We were close to the seventh green, when the Frenchman touched me upon the arm.

“Look, sir,” he said, pointing. “There is a golf party coming. They are making, no doubt, for this spot. When they arrive, pray approach and look at them. If you should recognise anyone, I beg that you will take off your hat.”

He bowed, and a moment later I was alone.

I sat down on the turf and took out a cigarette…

With a plop, a golf ball alighted upon the green, trickled a few feet, and stopped a yard from the hole. Presently, another followed it, rolled across the turf, and struggled into the rough.

I got upon my feet and strolled towards the green…

It was a mixed foursome.

In a cherry-coloured jumper and a white skirt, Eulalie looked prettier than ever.

She saw me at once, of course, but she took no notice.

Her companions glanced at me curiously.

Putter in hand, Eulalie walked to her ball – the far one – and turned her back to me. After a little consideration, she holed out.

It was a match shot, and her companions applauded vigorously.

Eulalie just smiled.

“I’m always better,” she said, “when I’ve something at stake.”

“And what,” said her partner, a large blue-eyed Englishman with a grey moustache, “have you got at stake this time?”

Eulalie laughed mischievously.

“If I told you,” she said, “you wouldn’t believe me.”

Light-heartedly enough, they passed to the eighth tee.

I watched them go thoughtfully.

When the detectives came up —

“I didn’t take off my hat,” I explained, “because I wasn’t sure. But I’m almost certain that somewhere before I’ve seen that great big fellow with the grey moustache.”

My companions were not interested.

How Jonah Took Off His Coat, and

Berry Flirted with Fortune for All He was Worth

“My dear,” said Berry, “be reasonable.”

“With pleasure,” said Daphne. “But I’m not going to let you off.”

Her husband frowned upon a roll.

“When I say,” he said, “that I have a feeling today that my luck is in, I’m not being funny. Only once before have I had that conviction. I was at Cannes at the time – on the point of leaving for Paris. I went to Monte Carlo instead… That night I picked up over six hundred pounds.”

“I know,” said his wife. “You’ve often told me. But I can’t help it. I made you give me your word before we came here, and I’m not going to let you off.”

“I gave it without thinking,” declared her husband. “Besides, I never dreamed I should have this feeling.”

“I did,” said Daphne shortly. “That’s why I made you promise. Have some more coffee?”

Pointedly ignoring the invitation, Berry returned to his roll and, after eyeing it with disgust which the bread in no way deserved, proceeded to disrupt and eviscerate it with every circumstance of barbarity. Covertly, Jonah and I exchanged smiles…

Forty-eight hours had elapsed since I had cut Eulalie, and this was the morning of our last day at San Sebastian.

During our short stay the weather had been superb, and we had been out and about the whole day long. Of an evening – save for one memorable exception – we had been to the Casino…

For as long as I could remember, Berry had had a weakness for Roulette. For Baccarat,
Petits Chevaux
, and the rest he cared nothing: fifty pounds a year would have covered his racing bets: if he played Bridge, it was by request. My brother-in-law was no gambler. There was something, however, about the shining wheel, sunk in its board of green cloth, which he found irresistible.

Remembering this fascination, my sister had broached the matter so soon as we had decided to visit San Sebastian, with the happy result that, ere we left Pau, her husband had promised her three things. The first was to leave his cheque-books at home; the second, to take with him no more than two hundred pounds; the third, to send for no more money.

And now the inevitable had happened.

The two hundred pounds were gone – every penny; we were not due to leave until the morrow; and – Berry was perfectly satisfied that his luck had changed. As for the promises his wife had extracted, he was repenting his rashness as heartily as she was commending her prevision.

“Nothing,” said Berry, turning again to the charge, “was said about borrowing, was it?”

“No.”

“Very well, then. Boy and Jonah’ll have to lend me something. I’m not going to let a chance like this go.”

“Sorry, old chap,” said Jonah, “but we’ve got to pay the hotel bill. Thanks to your activities, we’re landed with—”

“How much have you got?” demanded Berry.

I cut in and threw the cards on the table.

“Brother,” I said, “we love you. For that reason alone we won’t lend you a paper franc. But then you knew that before you asked us.”

My brother-in-law groaned.

“I tell you,” he affirmed, “you’re throwing away money. With another two hundred and fifty I could do anything. I can feel it in my bones.”

“You’d lose the lot,” said Jonah. “Besides, you’ve eaten your cake. If you’d limited yourself last night and played rationally, instead of buttering the board…”

“I’m sure,” said Jill, “you ought to have played on a system. If you’d put a pound on ‘RED’ and kept on doubling each time you lost—”

“Yes,” said Berry. “That’s an exhilarating stunt, that is. Before you know where you are, you’ve got to put two hundred and fifty-six pounds on an even chance to get one back. With a limit of four hundred and eighty staring you in the face, that takes a shade more nerve than I can produce. I did try it once – at Madeira. Luck was with me. After three hours I’d made four shillings and lost half a stone… Incidentally, when a man starts playing Roulette on a system, it’s time to pray for his soul. I admit there are hundreds who do it – hundreds of intelligent, educated, thoughtful men and women. Well, you can pray for the lot. They’re trying to read something which isn’t written. They’re studying a blank page. They’re splitting their brains over a matter on which an idiot’s advice would be as valuable. I knew a brilliant commercial lawyer who used to sit down at the table and solemnly write down every number that turned up for one hour. For the next sixty minutes he planked still more solemnly on the ones that had turned up least often. Conceive such a frame of mind. That wonderful brain had failed to grasp the one simple glaring point of which his case consisted – that Roulette is lawless. He failed to appreciate that he was up against Fortune herself. He couldn’t realise that because ‘7’ had turned up seven times running at a quarter past nine, that was no earthly reason why ‘7’ shouldn’t turn up eight times running at a quarter past ten. Heaven knows what fun he got out of it. For me, the whole joy of the thing is that you’re flirting with Fate.” He closed his eyes suddenly and flung back his head. “Oh,” he breathed, “I tell you she’s going to smile tonight. I can see the light in her eyes. I have a feeling that she’s going to be very kind…very kind…somehow…”

We let him linger over the fond reflection, eyeing one another uneasily. It was, we felt, but the prelude to a more formidable attack.

We were right.

“I demand,” barked Berry, “that I be allowed the wherewithal to prosecute my suit.”

“Not a farthing,” said Daphne. “To think that that two hundred pounds is gone makes me feel ill.”

“That’s exactly why I want to win it back – and more also.” He looked round desperately. “Anybody want a birthright? For two hundred and fifty quid – I’d change my name.”

“It sounds idiotic, I know,” said I, “but supposing – supposing you lost.”

“I shan’t tonight,” said Berry.

“Sure?”

“Positive. I tell you, I feel—”

“And you,” said Jonah scornfully, “you have the temerity to talk about praying for others’ souls. You sit there and—”

“I tell you,” insisted Berry, “that I have a premonition. Look here. If I don’t have a dart tonight, I shall never be the same man again… Boy, I implore you—”

I shook my head.

“Nothing doing,” I said. “You’ll thank us one day.”

“You don’t understand,” wailed Berry. “You’ve never known the feeling that you were bound to win.”

“Yes, I have – often. And it’s invariably proved a most expensive sensation.”

There was a moment’s silence. Then —

“Right,” said my brother-in-law. “You’re one and all determined to see me go down. You’ve watched me drop two hundred, and not one of you’s going to give me a hand to help me pick it up. It may be high-minded, but it’s hardly cordial. Some people might call it churlish… Upon my soul, you are a cold-blooded crowd. Have you ever known a deal I wouldn’t come in on? And now, because you are virtuous, I’m to lose my fun… Ugh! Hymn Number Four Hundred and Seventy-Seven, ‘The Cakes and Ale are Over.’”

Struggling with laughter, Adèle left her seat and, coming quickly behind him, set her white hands upon his shoulders.

“Dear old chap,” she said, laying her cheek against his, “look at it this way. You’re begging and praying us to let you down. Yes, you are. And if we helped you to break your word, neither you nor we would ever, at the bottom of our hearts, think quite so much of us again. And that’s not good enough. Even if you won five thousand pounds it wouldn’t compensate. Respect and self-respect aren’t things you can buy.”

“But, sweetheart,” objected Berry, “nothing was said about borrowing. Daphne admits it. If I can raise some money without reference to my bankers, I’m at liberty to do so.”

“Certainly,” said Adèle. “But
we
mustn’t help. If that was allowed, it ’ld knock the bottom out of your promise. You and Daphne and we are all in the same stable: and that – to mix metaphors – puts us out of Court. If you ran into a fellow you knew, and he would lend you some money, or you found a hundred in the street, or a letter for you arrived—”

“–or one of the lift-boys died, leaving me sole legatee… I see. Then I should be within my rights. In fact, if anything which can’t happen came to pass, no one would raise any objection to my taking advantage of it. You know, you’re getting too generous.”

“That’s better,” said Adèle. “A moment ago we were cold-blooded.”

Berry winced.

“I take it back,” he said humbly. “Your central heating arrangements, at any rate, are in perfect order. Unless your heart was glowing, your soft little cheek wouldn’t be half so warm.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Adèle, straightening her back. “But we try to be sporting. And that’s your fault,” she added. “You’ve taught us.”

The applause which greeted this remark was interrupted by the entry of a waiter bearing some letters which had been forwarded from Pau.

A registered package, for which Berry was requested to sign, set us all thinking.

“Whatever is it?” said Daphne.

“I can’t imagine,” replied her husband, scrutinising the postmark. “‘Paris’? I’ve ordered nothing from Paris that I can remember.”

“Open it quick,” said Jonah. “Perhaps it’s some wherewithal.”

Berry hacked at the string…

The next instant he leaped to his feet.

“Fate!” he shrieked. “Fate! I told you my luck was in!” He turned to his wife breathlessly. “’Member those Premium Bonds you wanted me to go in for? Over a month ago I applied for twenty-five. I’d forgotten about the trash – and
here they are
!”

Two hours and a half had gone by, and we were rounding a tremendous horse-shoe bend on the way to Zarauz, when my wife touched Berry upon the arm.

“Aren’t you excited?” she said.

“Just a trifle,” he answered. “But I’m trying to tread it under. It’s essential that I should keep cool. When you’re arm in arm with Fortune, you’re apt to lose your head. And then you’re done. The jade’ll give me my cues – I’m sure of it. But she won’t shout them. I’ve got to keep my eyes skinned and my ears pricked, if I’m going to pick them up.”

“If I,” said Adèle, “were in your shoes, I should be just gibbering.”

It was, indeed, a queer business.

The dramatic appearance of the funds had startled us all. Had they arrived earlier, had they come in the shape of something less easily negotiable than Bearer Bonds, had they been representing more or less than precisely the very sum which Berry had named in his appeal, we might have labelled the matter “Coincidence,” and thought no more of it. Such a label, however, refused to stick. The affair ranked with thunder out of a cloudless sky.

As for my sister, with the wind taken out of her sails, she had hauled down her flag. The thing was too hard for her.

It was Jonah who had sprung a mine in the midst of our amazement.

“Stop,” he had cried. “Where’s yesterday’s paper? Those things are Premium Bonds, and, unless I’m utterly mistaken, there was a drawing two days ago. One of those little fellows may be worth a thousand pounds.”

The paper had confirmed his report…

The thought that, but for his wit, we might have released such substance to clutch at such a shadow, had set us all twittering more than ever.

At once a council had been held.

Finally it had been decided to visit a bank and, before we disposed of the Bonds, to ask for and search the official bulletin in which are published the results of all Government Lottery Draws.

Inquiry, however, had revealed that the day was some sort of a holiday, and that no banks would be open…

At last a financier was unearthed – a changer of money. In execrable French he had put himself at our service.

‘Yes, he had the bulletin. It had arrived this morning…’

Feverishly we searched its pages.

Once we had found the column, a glance was enough. Our Bonds bore consecutive numbers, of which the first figure was “0.” The series appeared to be unfortunate. The winning list contained not a single representative.

More reassured than disappointed, we raised the question of a loan.

Our gentleman picked at the Bonds and wrinkled his nose. After a little he offered one hundred pounds.

This was absurd, and we said so.

The Bonds were worth two hundred and fifty pounds, and were as good as hard cash. The fellow had no office, and, when we wanted him again, as like as not he would have disappeared. His personal appearance was against him.

When we protested, his answer came pat.

‘He was no money-lender. In the last ten years he had not advanced ten pesetas. He was a changer of money, a broker, and nothing else.’

Finally he offered one hundred and fifty pounds – at sixty per cent a year
or part of a year
.

For one so ignorant of usury, this was not bad. We thanked him acidly, offered the Bonds for sale, and, after a little calculation, accepted two hundred and forty-three pounds in Spanish notes.

Half an hour later we had climbed into the cars, anxious to make the most of our last day in Spain…

If the way to Zarauz was handsome, that from Zarauz to Zumaya was fit for a king. Take us a range of mountains – bold, rugged, precipitous, and bring the sea to their foot – no ordinary sea, sirs, but Ocean himself, the terrible Atlantic to wit, in all his glory. And there, upon the boundary itself, where his proud waves are stayed, build us a road, a curling shelf of a road, to follow the line of that most notable indenture, witnessing the covenant ’twixt land and sea, settled when Time was born.

Above us, the ramparts of Spain – below, an echelon of rollers, ceaselessly surging to their doom – before us, a ragged wonder of coast-line, rising and falling and thrusting into the distance, till the snarling leagues shrank into murmuring inches and tumult dwindled into rest – on our right, the might, majesty, dominion and power of Ocean, a limitless laughing mystery of running white and blue, shining and swaying and swelling till the eye faltered before so much magnificence and Sky let fall her curtain to spare the failing sight – for over six miles we hung over the edge of Europe…