And Berry Came Too (10 page)

“I’m not a fool,” said I, “I’m a thankful man. By your wit you’ve delivered us out of the lion’s mouth. When our bones were turned to water, you—”

“I’ll give you twenty minutes to get the shoe and come back.”

I got to my feet.

“I heard you say,” said I, “that you wanted a walk.”

“That was
suggestio falsi
. I wanted the Judge to infer that we hadn’t been out of the car. Still, if you’ll undertake to behave…”

“I reserve the right,” said I, “to admire you and all your works.”

The Knave preceded us gaily, pouch in mouth.

“If only we’d known that he had a weakness for dogs.”

“Ah,” said I. “Then we could have told him the truth.”

“Exactly,” said Perdita, nodding. “However, there’s no harm done. He knows we didn’t take it, but he knows we know where it is.”

“Oh, hell,” said I. “D’you think so?”

“I’m sure, He’s terribly shrewd. He can’t make out how we know or why we won’t tell him the truth. But he knows that there’s no ill will, so he’s very wisely content to allow us to play the hand. But, honestly, Boy, can you beat it? Last night I express a desire to see The Red Judge. Today I’m given a close-up – of the very finest figure I ever saw.”

“He’s equally lucky,” said I. “He probably dreamed last night of a witch with a mouth like Psyche’s and a couple of stars in her eyes.”

“Who tried to deceive him. I wish we’d told him the truth.”

“You needn’t fret,” said I. “There’s something more precious than stars in your pretty brown eyes.”

A child slid her arm through mine.

“I like you,” she said. “You don’t always tell the truth, but you always say the right thing.”

The restoration was over.

If the Judge suspected collusion, he covered it up very well, and the fuss which he made of the Knave, if more restrained, was as handsome as that which the Knave made of him. Finally, we all stood invited to tea at The Judge’s Lodgings the following day.

As we floated home in the Rolls—

“Now, why did this happen?” said Berry. “Did the Knave overhear us last night and act upon what he had heard? Or did he just pinch that shoe because he had taken a liking to a very remarkable man? And why should he fall for a stranger who wasn’t aware of his presence because he was fast asleep?”

“Try reincarnation,” said Perdita. “Perhaps in some other existence the Knave was his dog.”

“That won’t do,” said Berry. “You don’t remember the past.”

“I beg your pardon,” said I. “I seem to have heard you remember—”

“Vaguely,” said Berry, “vaguely. I sometimes think that when I was the Queen of Sheba, you were my favourite skunk. You’ve a way of wiping your nose… But I can’t be sure.”

Before I could counter this insult—

“I believe,” said Jill, “that the Knave’s got a curious power that we haven’t got. It’s not second sight, exactly. But if ever he does something funny, you know, if we wait a little, we find that he’s perfectly right.”

“I see,” said Berry, thoughtfully. “It’s rather a daring theory, isn’t it? ‘There’s
an Alsatian
that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how
he
will.’ Well, you may be right, but if Peppery Joe knew the truth, I hardly think he’d subscribe to that point of view.”

“You like the Judge, don’t you?” said I.

“I like him immensely,” said Berry. “And that’s impertinent. The man is worshipful.”

“So the Knave found him,” said I. “He looked upon him and loved him – and then, by way of homage, made off with his shoe.”

“What sewage,” said Berry “–to use a ladylike word. I don’t believe he ever fell for the Judge. The fuss which he made was simply reflected affection – the mother embracing the stranger who’s saved her child. The Knave made much of Sir Joseph, because some instinct told him that he was the very being whom we were desirous to see. And he took his shoe to bring that consummation about.”

“Tripe,” said I. “And then I’m being polite. But in trying to read this riddle we’re wasting our time. We’re flattening our noses against that pane of glass through which we can only see darkly. Some dogs, and the Knave among them, obey a faculty which our intelligence is unable to comprehend.”

“But what a gem,” said Berry. “You ought to write a pamphlet –
Things I have Rubbed my Nose in,
by
Nauseous
.”

“No, he oughtn’t,” shrieked Jill. “He’s right. You’d have said it yourself, if you could have put it so well.”

“Hush,” said Berry. “That little mouth was never made to utter blasphemy. And now let’s hear Perdita’s view. Her little finger is thicker than most of our loins.”

My lady spoke over her shoulder.

“I have no view, but one thing I do observe. ‘Second sight,’ ‘instinct,’ ‘faculty’ – you’re all of you flirting with one and the same idea. And I don’t see how you can help it, for he does understand what we say and he must have heard us last night – I saw him below the terrace before he came to the steps. If, however, he took to the Judge on sight, I think we must come down to earth and admit that it’s nothing but chance. And as to that, I should let the Knave speak for himself. He’s been asked to tea tomorrow. I think he’ll be more than polite if he really cares.”

“I know,” piped Jill. “We’ll take him with us in the morning, to see Sir Joseph go by. Then if he gets excited—”

“Better still,” said Berry. “We’ll wash the morning out and go in the afternoon. We’ve been asked to tea at five. That means he’s not going to rise before half past four. If we go over early and wait in the Close, we shall see the coach drive up and his lordship get out. Perdita will have her pageant, with a very much finer setting than the busy streets can provide, and the Knave will have a fair chance of recognizing his man.”

“And ‘his man,’” said I, “will look very different just then. His wig and his robes of scarlet will make a most effective disguise. But personality will out. If the Knave really fell for Sir Joseph, he’ll fall for The Red Judge.”

Some cathedrals have more than one close, and Brooch among them. The Judge’s Lodging stands in the lesser close – as fair a court as ever a temple had. The spot is sanctuary – a place of lawns and flagstones and whispering elms, of distant murmurs and the flutter of pigeons’ wings, of solitary footfalls and the quiet chime of bells. Sometimes the crunch of wheels declares that a car is stealing over its gravelled drive, and sometimes a slant of music – the organ framing the voice – tells such a tale as transfigures its fine old face: but these things are but the fishes that leap from time to time from the depths of some silver pool, for the life of the close is that of untroubled water, sweet and deep and reflective, and running so very slowly that it seems to be standing still.

At one end a grey old gate house admits the world: at the other a pride of buttresses springs from the emerald turf and, above them, a great wheel-window is serving an echoing transept of the cathedral church: on either side are mansions, standing well back, each with its garden or forecourt and all of them long and low. Their styles are different, but every one is lovely because it was built by a master and has been arrayed by Time. The sunshine has painted their faces, and wind and weather have laboured to tire their heads, and the tale of those they have sheltered lives in the stone of their thresholds – one and all worn to a curve by the passage of many feet.

The Judge’s Lodging stands at the end of the close, under the shadow of the cathedral’s wall. Between the two lies a gap which leads to the cloister-garth, but vehicles may not pass there, because it is holy ground. As is fitting, the house has a sober mien, and its fine, flagged forecourt is sunk, so that, leaving the door, you go down and then go up to the close by a flight of steps. The entry might have been planned with an eye to the stately procession which passes every morning over its flags – the High Sheriff in blue and silver, wand of office in hand; then the Judge’s chaplain in gown and hood, and, last of all, His Majesty’s Justice in Eyre. But this we were not to see, for when the Court has risen, his lordship returns alone.

“If we stand about here,” said Berry, “we’ll see the whole of the show – the coach coming under the archway and driving the length of the close. When it’s passed us, we turn to follow. By the time it’s pulled up at the Lodging we’ll be about ten paces off. If he sees us, it doesn’t matter – he’ll go straight into the house: but the Knave will see him crossing the pavement – it’s good and wide.”

Perdita gazed about her and put up a hand to her head.

“It seems unreal,” she said. “It’s like a scene in some play. Not a human being in sight – to tell us we haven’t stepped back four hundred years.”

Here a man strolled into our view from the way to the cloister-garth.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have said it,” cried Jill.

“He’s too late,” said Perdita, swiftly. “The perfect impression’s been taken – I’ve got it here, in my heart. Besides, he’ll be gone in a minute.”

Had he been bound for the gate house, this would have been true but, as though to deny our wishes, after some twenty paces, he turned on his heel and strolled back.

“As I feared, when I saw him,” said Berry. “You’ll have to accept his presence. He’s a plain-clothes man who’s been put in charge of the Judge. You saw him looking at us. Well, if we went and stood by the entrance he’d move us on.”

Perdita laughed.

“He’d have his work cut out, if the truth were known. If the guide-books printed the picture we’re going to see – well, you’d have to shut the gates of the close. Don’t tell me they’re still shut at sundown, just as they used to be.”

“From time immemorial,” said I, “when the great bell strikes seventeen, at five minutes past nine. One stroke for every Crusader that lies in the church below.”

Perdita closed her eyes.

“I ask a question,” she said, “and you, by way of answer, just pick me some lovely flower. I’ll have such a precious nosegay to take away when I sail.”

“And what shall we have?” said Jill.

“The perfume,” said I, “which she lent to the flowers she left.”

“Eyes on the gate house,” said Berry. “It’s nearly a quarter to five.”

“It’s all right. I’m watching,” said Jill…

A gentle-faced prelate came out of a garden beside us to cross the close, and a nursemaid appeared with a child on the opposite side. And then they, too, were gone, and the place was still.

As in a play, I heard the ring of hoofs on the cobbled street. An instant later, the coach swung under the archway and clattered out of the shadow into the sun.

The picture was most arresting, but not, I think, so arresting as the look upon Perdita’s face. All the romance of her nature was welling out of her heart and flooding her lively beauty with a radiance I cannot describe. It is written, Your young men shall see visions. Be that as it may, I know that her cup was full.

So I never saw the pageant, until it had passed us by – a blaze of gold and crimson and flashing glass, wigs and white silk stockings, hammercloth, body and tail-board moving against a background which was before coaches were.

We had turned as Berry had counselled and were moving towards The Lodging before the coach came to rest. That the Knave was excited was nothing, for he must have felt our interest in what was afoot. We saw the men leave the tail-board and one of them open the door and let down the steps. And still the setting was perfect – the stage was clear. The burly detective was mercifully not to be seen. We saw The Red Judge descend and begin to cross the pavement, which must have been twelve feet wide.

“Look, Knave,” breathed Jill, beside me…

I glanced at the dog, but an exclamation from Berry made me look back.

The Judge had stopped – on the pavement, and the plain-clothes man had appeared. He was standing just clear of the entrance, facing the Judge.

I think we were all of us staring, when Berry spoke with a voice I should like to forget.

“God Almighty,” he croaked. “
It’s ‘Silver’ Gilt
.”

The horror of that instant will stay with me while I live. For a quarter of an hour we had shared the close with Murder: and now her mask was off, and she was standing before us, about to lay her hand on the man we knew. And nothing on earth could stop her…

Too late we flung ourselves forward – the convict’s hand was moving, and we were ten paces away.

Something spurted into my vision – a flash of brown and silver, seeming to skim the pavement,
ventre à terre
.

As the shot was fired, the Knave landed – where the throat runs into the neck, and Gilt went flying as a skittle that is floored by a full-pitched ball…

Sir Joseph was answering Berry.

“Through my cuff, I think. Yes, there’s the hole. His aim was true, but he fired just an instant too late.”

Berry turned to me.

“Get the girls away and wait for me in the car.”

As I went, I glanced over my shoulder.

The Judge’s butler and Berry were deep in excited talk. ‘Silver’ Gilt, looking very shaken, was arm in arm with the footmen – but not in a friendly way. Behind him was standing the coachman, with a splinter-bar clubbed in his hands. And The Red Judge was down on one knee, with an arm about the Knave’s shoulders, looking into his eyes. But the Knave was looking past me…

I turned to see Jill very white, with a hand to her head. I was just in time to catch her, before she fell. As I picked her up in my arms, the Knave was leaping beside me, to lick her face.

Three days later we took our tea with the Judge.

The affair of Monday was not mentioned. This was as well, for at home, for the last three days, we had spoken of little else. I will only say that Jill’s contention was honoured – that the Knave had a ‘sight’ which we had not, and the will and the wit to act upon what he ‘saw.’

Tea was served in what was the inner hall, in the bay of an oriel-window, commanding the garden below. No one could have been more charming than was our distinguished host, and his Marshal, who did the honours, showed us throughout a respect which we did not deserve. Proposing to stay for an hour, we stayed for twice that time, while Sir Joseph remembered for us the high and mighty burden of other days.