Jonah and Co. (6 page)

“It’s all very fine,” said her husband. “It was I who furnished and suggested the use of the current issue of
Le Temps
, and, without that, Fitch couldn’t have moved. As it was, one sheet made a shroud, another a pall, and Nobby’s beard and paws were appropriately wiped upon the ever-burning scandal of ‘Reparations.’”

“I gather,” said Jonah, “that the dissolution of the preserve turned an indifferent success into a howling failure. Of course, I haven’t seen the necklets but…”

“I can’t pretend it’s easy,” said Daphne. “It isn’t that there aren’t any shops—”

“No,” said Berry emphatically, “it isn’t that.”

“–but somehow… Still, if we go on long enough, we shall find something.”

“That’s it,” said her husband. “We’re going to put our backs into it this afternoon. After we’ve done another twelve shops without buying anything, we’re going to have police protection. Not that we need it, you know, but it’ll improve my morale.”

“If only Sally was here,” said Jill, “she could have told us where to go.”

“If only her sailor would turn up,” said Adèle, “we might be able to get all our presents from him.”

“That’s an idea,” said Jonah. “What was the merchant’s name?”

Amid a buzz of excitement, Daphne sent for the letter which had announced Sarah Featherstone’s departure from Pau. When it arrived, she read the material portion aloud.

“…George can’t get away, so Peter and I are going home for Christmas. We’ll be back the first week in January. I’ve told the Marats that if Planchet (the sailor who sold me the shawl, etc.) turns up before I get back, he’s to be sent on to you. If he’s got anything extra-special that you’re not keen on, you might get it for me…”

“Well, I never thought I should live to say it,” said Berry, “but, after what I’ve gone through this morning, if Planchet were to totter in this afternoon, laden with at once cheap and pretentious goods, I should fall upon his bull neck.”

“Who,” said I, “are the Marats?”

“They’re the married couple who run the flat. I believe they’re wonderful. Sally says she never knew what service was before.”

“I do hope,” said Jill, twittering, “they don’t make any mistake.”

“I’ve no fear of that,” said Adèle. “I can’t answer for the man, because we didn’t see him, but Madame Marat’s no fool.”

“Incidentally,” said I, “it’s one thing giving Planchet our address, but it’s quite another persuading him to fetch up. He may have other sheep to shear.”

“We can only pray that he hasn’t,” said Daphne. “It’s too much to expect him to have another shawl, but I should like the first pick of what he has.”

Berry regarded his wife.

“If,” he said, “you will swear to select from his wares all the blinkin’ presents with which you propose to signalise this Yuletide, I’ll – I’ll tie them all up without a word.”

“Same here,” said I. “Our gifts will cost us more, but we shall live the longer.”

“Ditto,” said Jonah.

The girls agreed cheerfully, and, before luncheon was over, it had been decided to give Planchet three days in which to make his appearance, and that, if he had not arrived by that time, then and then only should we resort to the shops.

Less than an hour had elapsed, and we were just about to make ready to take the air by the simple expedient of proceeding at a high speed in the direction of Biarritz, when Falcon entered the room.

“There’s an individual, madam, ’as come to the door—”

“Planchet? Is it Planchet?”

“I’m afraid I can ’ardly say, madam, but ’e ’as this address upon a piece of notepaper, madam, and—”

“All right, Falcon, I’ll come.”

The butler’s valiant endeavours to cope with the heritage of Babel were better known to us than he imagined. More than once his efforts to extract from strangers that information which was his due, and at the same time, like a juggler of many parts, to keep the balls of Dignity and Courtesy rolling, had been overheard, and had afforded us gratification so pronounced as to necessitate the employment of cushions and other improvised gags if our faithful servant’s feelings were to come to no harm.

“I’ll go,” said Jill and Adèle simultaneously.

We all went, and we were all just in time to see our visitor precede the Sealyham in the direction of the lodge. Aghast at such ill-timed pleasantry, we erupted pellmell into the drive, all frantic by word or deed to distract the terrier from his purpose. Shrieks, curses, and a copy of
La Fontaine’s Fables
were hurled simultaneously and in vain at our favourite, and it was Berry, to whom the fear of further acquaintance with the emporiums of Pau must have lent wings, who actually overtook and discomfited the pursuer some three yards from the road.

It was with feelings of inexpressible relief that we presently beheld the three returning – Berry alternately rebuking the Sealyham, who was under his arm, and apologising to his guest, the latter wide-eyed, something out of breath, and anything but easy, and Nobby apparently torn between an aggressively affectionate regard for his captor and a still furiously expressed suspicion of the stranger within our gates.

As the trio drew nigh —

“It is Monsieur Planchet,” called Berry. “He’s brought some things for us to see. His man’s behind with a barrow.”

With beating hearts we trooped back into the house…

As I returned from thrusting Nobby into a bedroom, Monsieur Planchet’s hireling staggered into the hall, a gigantic basket-trunk poised precariously upon his hunched shoulders.

The inspection was held in the drawing-room.

It was rather late in the day to assume that nonchalant air which has, from time immemorial, adorned the armouries of all accomplished hucksters.

Our instant recognition of the salesman, our energetic solicitude for his safety, and our obvious anxiety to dissociate ourselves from the policy of direct action adopted by the terrier, had not only betrayed, but emphasised, the fact that the sailor’s arrival was very much to our taste. Clearly, if we did not wish to pay through the nose for what we purchased, our only course was to feign disappointment when the wares were produced.

For what it was worth I circulated a covert recommendation of this wile, which was acknowledged with sundry nods and inaudible assurances – the latter, so far as Jill was concerned, too readily given to inspire me with confidence.

Sure enough, when the lid of the trunk was lifted, and Planchet plucked forth a truly exquisite rug and flung it dexterously across a chair, my grey-eyed cousin let out a gasp which an infant in arms could not have misinterpreted.

There was only one thing to be done, and Daphne did it.

With a heroic disregard for her reputation, she shook her head.

“Too bright,” she said shortly. “Don’t you think so?” she added, turning to Berry.

The latter swallowed before replying.

“It’s positively gaudy,” he said gloomily.

Planchet shrugged his shoulders and began to unfasten a bale…

By the time seven more Persian rugs – all old and all more than ordinarily pleasing in design and colouring – were sprawling about the chamber, any organised depreciation was out of the question. Where all were so beautiful, it required a larger output of moral courage than any one of us could essay to decry the whole pack. By way of doing his or her bit, everybody decided to praise one or two to the implied condemnation of the remainder. In the absence of collusion, it was inevitable that those rugs which somebody had thus branded as goats should invariably include somebody else’s sheep. The result was that every single rug had its following. A glance at their owner, who was standing aside, making no offer to commend his carpets, but fingering his chin and watching us narrowly with quick-moving eyes, showed that he was solely engaged in considering how much he dared ask.

I moved across to him.

“You only come here twice a year?” I inquired.

“That is so,
Monsieur
.”

“And how do you get these things? By barter?”

“Yes,
Monsieur
.”

After a little encouragement, he explained that before each voyage he laid in a stock of knives, gramophones, mirrors, trinkets, and the like, these to exchange with the natives in the bazaars of the smaller Eastern ports at which his ship touched. From Bordeaux he used to set out, and to Bordeaux he as regularly returned. An aunt dwelling at Pau was responsible for his selection of the town as a market for his goods. I should not have taken him for a sailor, and said as much. With a shy smile, he confessed that he was a steward, adding that he was a landsman at heart, and that, but for the opportunities of trading which his occupation presented he should go to sea no more.

Suddenly —

“What else have you got?” said Daphne.

Six panels of Chinese embroidery – all powder-blue and gold, ‘laborious Orient ivories,’ a gorgeous hanging that had been the coat of a proud mandarin, three Chinese mats, aged and flawless, a set of silken doilies – each one displaying a miniature landscape limned with a subtlety that baffled every eye – one by one these treasures were laid before us.

Even Jonah went down before the ivories.

Ere the trunk was empty, we had, one and all, dropped our masks and were revelling openly.

“Now, isn’t that beautiful?” “Sally’s got a ball like that, but it isn’t so big.” “It’s just as well she’s in Ireland, or we shouldn’t have had those mats.” “You know, that rug on the chair’s a devilish fine one.” “They all are.” “Yes, but that – my dear fellow, it’s the sort of rug they put in the window and refuse to sell, because it’s such an advertisement.” “I’ll tell you what, if we had those panels made into curtains, they’d look simply priceless in the drawing-room.” “Give me the ivories.”

It was Adèle who pulled the check-string.

“What’s the price of this rug?” she said quietly.

There was an expectant and guilty hush.

With a careless flourish we had called the tune – clamoured for it… If the piper’s fee was exorbitant, we had only ourselves to thank.

Planchet hesitated. Then —

“Five hundred francs,
Madame
.”

Ten pounds.

You could have heard a pin drop.

The rug was worth sixty. In Regent Street or Fifth Avenue we should have been asked a hundred. If this was typical of Planchet’s prices, no wonder Sally had plunged…

I took out a pencil and picked up a pad of notepaper.

“And the other rugs?” I inquired.

“The same price,
Monsieur
.”

The rugs went down.

Slowly, and without a shadow of argument, the prices of the other valuables were asked, received, and entered.

With a shaking hand I counted up the figures – eight thousand six hundred francs.

I passed the paper to Berry.

“Will you pay him?” I said. “I haven’t got enough at the bank here, and you can’t expect him to take a foreign cheque.”

“Right oh!”

“He may not want to part with them all at one house,” said Daphne. “You’d better ask him.”

Adèle smiled very charmingly.

“We like your pretty things very much,” she said. “May we have what you’ve shown us?”

Planchet inclined his head.

“As
Madame
pleases.”

I crossed to where he was standing and went through my list, identifying each article as I came to it, and making him confirm the price. When we had finished, I insisted upon him checking my figures. He did so with some show of reluctance. The total, seemingly, was good enough.

When the reckoning was over, I hesitated. Then —

“You know,” I said slowly, “we’d have to pay much more than this in the shops.”

It seemed only fair.

Planchet spread out his hands.

“
Monsieur
is very kind: but for me, I should not obtain more from the merchants. I know them. They are robbers. I prefer infinitely to deal with you.”

“All right. You don’t mind a cheque?”

“A cheque,
Monsieur
?”

“Yes, on the bank here. We haven’t so much money in the house.”

The little man hesitated. Nervously the big brown eyes turned from me to fall upon his possessions…

“That’s all right,” said Berry. “The bank’s still open. Fitch can run up in the car and get the money. He’s probably had a dud cheque some time or other. Anyway, considering he knows nothing of us, and Sally’s out of reach, I don’t blame him.”

Such a way out of the difficulty was unanimously approved, and when I communicated our intention to Planchet, the latter seemed greatly relieved. It was not, he explained volubly, that he did not trust us, but when a poor sailor produced such a cheque to a bank…

As Berry left to give the chauffeur his instructions —

“Last time you came,” said Daphne, “you brought a beautiful shawl. Mrs Featherstone bought it.”

Planchet frowned thoughtfully. Then his face lighted with recollection.

“Perfectly,
Madame
. I remember it. It was very fine. I have another like it at home.”

My sister caught her breath.

“For sale?”

“If
Madame
pleases.” Adèle and Jill clasped one another. “I will bring it tomorrow.”

With an obvious effort Daphne controlled her excitement.

“I – we should like to have a look at it,” she said.

Planchet inclined his head.

“Tomorrow morning,
Madame
.”

Without more ado he packed up his traps, announced that, as he was returning on the morrow, there was now no occasion for him to wait for his money, and, thanking us profusely for our patronage and assuring us that he was ever at our service, summoned his employee and withdrew humbly enough.

It was fully a quarter of an hour before the first wave of our pent-up enthusiasm had spent itself. After a positive debauch of self-congratulation, amicable bickering with regard to the precise order of precedence in which an antiquary would place our acquisitions, and breathless speculation concerning their true worth, we sank into sitting postures about the room and smiled affectionately upon one another.