Berry And Co. (12 page)

Miss Deriot gazed at the magnificent prospect before replying.

“It ought to make me feel very small,” she said suddenly, “but somehow it doesn’t. It’s so terribly old and all that, but it’s got such a kind look.”

“That,” said I, “is the quality of Oxford. And I congratulate you. You are articulate where wise men have stood dumb. Perhaps it’s because you’re so much alike.”

“Who.”

“You and Oxford.”

“Am I so terribly old?”

I shook my head.

“But you’re beautifully built, and you’ve got a kind look and handsome ways, and your temples are a dream, and all our swains commend you, and—”

“Stop, stop. You’re getting mixed.”

“Not at all. My intellect was never less clouded. In spite of two glasses of ginger beer, my hand is like a spade – I mean a rock. Insert a fly in your eye, and I will remove it unhesitatingly.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” said Agatha.

“One of these days I shall compare you to a burst of melody. At the present moment I am between your dimple and the deep sea.”

“The dimple you are,” said Agatha, with a smile that promised laughter with difficulty suppressed.

Amusedly I regarded her.

She was very tastefully dressed. A blue silk coat and a white laced blouse beneath it, a pale grey skirt of some soft stuff, grey silk stockings and small grey shoes – these with a hat of crocheted silk that matched her jersey – suited her pretty figure and the April day to rare perfection.

Leaning easily against the worn masonry of the balustrade, slight, lithe and graceful, she was the embodiment of vitality in repose. She stood so still, but there was a light shining in the brown eyes, that were cast down and over the parapet, keeping a careful watch for any indication of Berry’s activity, a tell-tale quiver of the sensitive nostrils, an eagerness hanging on the parted lips, which, with her flushed cheeks, lent to a striking face an air of freshness and a keen
joie de vivre
that was exhilarating beyond description.

“I wonder what’s happening,” said Agatha, nodding down at the gateway. “Can they get out another way?”

“I’m not sure. There is another gate, but—”

“At last,” said a familiar voice. “I wouldn’t have missed those stairs for anything. Think of the fools who’ve trodden them before.” The next moment Berry, followed by Mr Lewis, made his appearance. “Why, here are our little playmates.” He advanced beaming. “Don’t be shy any longer. And what a storied retreat you have selected!” He indicated the building with a sweep of his arm. “You know, originally this was a helter-skelter lighthouse, but Henry the Eighth lost his mat halfway down the chute, and had it closed down in revenge. There was a great deal of feeling about it. Especially on the part of the King. He hunted from a litter for months.”

I addressed myself to Miss Deriot.

“Wonderfully well-informed, isn’t he? Scratch the buffoon and you get the charlatan.”

Berry turned to Mr Lewis.

“Much of my crowded life,” he said, “has been devoted to research. I am, as it were, a crystal fount of knowledge. I beg that you will bathe in me.”

Not knowing exactly what reply to make to this offer, Mr Lewis laughed heartily, while Agatha, overcome with emotion, hurriedly turned away and stared over the roofs of Oxford, shaking with long spasms of laughter.

Stifling a desire to join her, I crossed to Mr Lewis and engaged him in reasonable conversation, while Berry seized the opportunity of indicating to Agatha the main points of the city, accompanying his gesticulations with a series of inaudible remarks, which, to judge from their reception, concerned Mr Lewis more nearly than Oxford, and were of a grotesque character. I was just leading up to the question of fuel, when a cry from my brother-in-law interrupted me.

“My hag,” he announced, “is below. With a notorious winebibber. Where are the women police?”

The next moment he had slid an arm through Agatha’s and had begun to descend. I followed with Mr Lewis…

I pass over the meeting in the street below, which I was just in time to witness. Berry’s swoop was so sudden that his prey appeared to realize that the game was up, and made no attempt to fly. It was almost piteous. An apprehension of certain embarrassment to come extinguished the instant impulse to shriek with laughter which was written plain upon their faces, and my sister gave one wild glance about her before turning to face the delinquent.

As I came up she addressed him.

“Berry, I appeal to you to take off that hat.”

“My tongue,” was the reply, “I mean my hands, are clean. Bereft of my own headgear, I had no choice. Some absent-minded priest is now scandalizing his parishioners by parading in a pearl-grey Homburg which is four sizes too big for him, while I – would you have me go naked in the streets?”

Here the Vice-Chancellor passed, preceded by his Bedels with staves reversed, and Berry uncovered and fell upon his knees. Surprised by the unwonted attention, the dignitary raised his mortar-board and bowed.

“Let’s go and touch him,” said Berry excitedly. “Then we shan’t get the King’s Evil. That’s the origin of inoculation.”

“I implore you,” said Daphne, “to behave yourself. As a personal favour—”

“You see in me,” said her husband, “a huntleyed palmer seeking the tomb of Anne of Cloves. On finding it, I must scourge myself. Anyone who directs me to it will be assaulted.”

“She’s buried at Oranges,” said Jonah. “But don’t let that stop you.”

Berry replaced his wideawake and stared at him.

“To mock me,” he said, “is most dangerous. Several people have been transformed for such an offence. Only yesterday I was compelled to change a taxi driver into a Gorgonzola of military age.”

Several clocks struck the half-hour. Half-past two.

“Look here,” said I. “We want to go to New College and ‘The House,’ but we can’t push off if you’re going to come with us looking like that. For Heaven’s sake, go back to
The Mitre
and get your own hat. Mr Lewis, won’t you go and fix him up?”

Quick as a flash, Daphne threw her weight into the scale which I had slung.

“Yes, do,” she implored. “You know, you oughtn’t to have let him come out like that,” she added, with a reproachful smile. “And then you can join us at New College.”

Our manoeuvre was successful beyond all expectation. His vanity flattered, the gentleman addressed flung himself into the breach with every manifestation of delight, and, seizing my brother-in-law by the arm, haled him gleefully in the direction of The High, humouring his obvious reluctance with the familiar assurances which one usually associates with the persuasion of the unsober.

In silence we watched them till they had turned the corner. Then—

“Did I say New College?” said Daphne hurriedly.

“You did,” said I. “So we’d better go straight to ‘The House.’”

Three minutes later we were exploring my old rooms in Peckwater Quadrangle, Christ Church.

In spite of its inauspicious beginning, we spent an enjoyable afternoon. By common consent New College was ruled out of our itinerary, but Oxford cannot be viewed in a day, and we found much to delight our senses south of the High Street. Finally, a languorous journey by punt from the Barges to Magdalen Bridge more than compensated us for the somnolent half-hour which we had been proposing to spend under the shadow of the City Wall.

Our return to
The Mitre
– a movement which was effected with great caution – was eagerly awaited by the hall-porter, who inquired anxiously regarding my brother-in-law, and produced his grey Homburg with a note addressed
To the Owner
stuck in the hatband.

“The gentleman as was of your party, sir, was inquirin’ about ’is ’at an hour or two back, sir. ’E ’adn’t ’ardly gone, when a reverend gent come in, all of a state, with this ’at in ’is ’and. Seems he took it away absent-minded like, instead of ‘is own, sir. Though ’ow ’e can ’ave made such a mistake I can’t think, ’is bein’ a Church ’at as plain as plain. But they’re like that up ’ere, sir, some o’ them.”

We stared at one another, frankly astonished to learn that Berry’s fantastic explanation was founded strictly upon fact.

“Did the clergyman get his own back?” said I.

“Yes, sir. ’Ere it was in the ’all.”

Apparently neither the porter nor the divine had any idea of the abuse to which the latter’s wideawake had been put.

“Oh, well, our friend’ll be in presently,” said Jonah, taking the Homburg. “When he comes, tell him we’ve got his hat and are having tea.”

“Very good, sir. You see there’s a note there, sir? The reverend wrote it ’ere. I think ’e was ’opin’ to ’ave seen your gentleman and told ’im ’ow sorry ’e was, but when ’e ’eard ’e was out, ’e sits down an’ writes ’im a letter. ’E was in a state.”

“Poor man,” said Daphne, following after Jonah. “After all, there’s no harm done.”

“It was a near thing,” said I. “But for my brainwave—”

“Nonsense,” said Daphne, “I got him away.”

“To be candid,” said Jonah, “if anybody’s to get a mention, I’m inclined to think it should be Mr Lewis.”

While we were waiting for tea, I read the letter aloud.

SIR,

I can never adequately express my regret for the distressing, if momentary, aberration unhappily responsible for my appropriation of a hat which in no way resembles my own.

I dare entertain no hope that inconvenience has not resulted to you, but I beg that you will accept, first, my fervid assurance that it was not of industry, but of case that I offended, and, secondly, my most humble apologies for the commission of so unfriendly a gest.

I am, Sir,

Your obedient Servant,

LUKE ST J BILDEW, BD

When I had finished—

“I don’t understand half of it,” said Jill.

“I confess it needs annotating, but it’s worth keeping, for it’s the real thing, my dear – a human document. You see, Oxford is the most wonderful backwater in the world, but – it’s a backwater.”

“And if you stay in it always,” said Agatha, “and never come out into the stream—”

“You are liable to take the wrong hat and to write letters that would be the better for footnotes.”

Berry arrived with the tea.

In silence he received his own hat, compared it with one which he had just purchased, and then handed the latter to the waiter. In silence he read Mr Bildew’s note. In silence he selected a piece of bread and butter and sank into a chair.

“I can’t bear it,” said Daphne. “Where’s Mr Lewis?”

“Happily he decided to catch a train twenty minutes ago. Otherwise it would have been murder. I should have pleaded guilty to manslaughter, committed under extreme provocation. That man oughtn’t to be allowed. I suppose you forgot to go to New College. Yes, just so.”

“And the coal?” said I. “Have you fixed that up?”

“Three tons of the best nuts are to be delivered
sub rosa
between two and three tomorrow afternoon. Nothing is to be said, nothing signed. Nobody is to know anything about it. The carter will simply take up the plate, shoot the stuff in, and push off. As I happened to have six pounds ten shillings upon me, the transaction will not be recorded.” With a depreciatory hand he waved aside the involuntary buzz of grateful admiration. “I am not long for this world. I am, as it were, ear-marked for a more worthy sphere. My translation may occur any moment. I should like Lewis to have some trifle in memory of me. A personal effect, I mean. I’ve got a gun-metal sovereign-case somewhere. But anything useful will do.”

We made a point of being in upon the following afternoon. It was not often that we all sat down to lunch together, but the satisfaction of witnessing the delivery of three precious tons of coal in the teeth of the authorities was more than we could forego. The butler was admitted to our confidence, and instructed to stifle any attempt to allay curiosity, by interpretation of the carman, that might originate in the servants’ hall, and immediately after luncheon, which finished at three minutes to two, an OP was established by the side of one of the dining-room windows, in which Jill was posted with orders to advise us directly the convoy appeared.

In the library we spent a restless time. Berry, usually somnolent at this hour, sat upon the club kerb and toyed with
The Times
. Jonah fidgeted with a refractory pipe. Daphne glanced from the clock to her novel and the novel to the clock at intervals of fifteen seconds, and I wrote four letters to the War Office about my gratuity, and very properly destroyed them as incoherent one after another.

At a quarter past two, by common consent, I visited Jill to see if she was asleep… When I made my report we reminded one another that Mr Lewis had said between two and three, and agreed that it was early as yet.

At half-past two Daphne left the room and did not return.

At twenty minutes to three I made no attempt to disguise my uneasiness, and joined my cousin and sister in the dining-room.

Ten minutes later Jonah and Berry came in.

After a hurried consultation it was decided that, if the coal had not arrived in ten minutes’ time, Berry should telephone to Mr Lewis forthwith. Almost immediately it was found that nobody knew the man’s number, initials, or address, and reference to the Directory showed that there were four columns of subscribers all bearing his name.

At five minutes past three the strain was telling, and every one’s temper began more or less to show signs of wear and tear.

“Are you sure,” said Daphne for the fourth time, “that it was to come between two and three?”

“No,” said her husband. “That’s why I’ve been waiting.”

“Fool,” said his wife.

Berry sighed.

“Some people are very hard to please. If I were you, I should take a course of ventriloquism. Then you can ask yourself questions and give yourself any perishing answers you like. At times you might even revile yourself.”

Five minutes later Jonah announced that he was going to Ranelagh, and inquired whether anyone wanted a round of golf. Berry accepted the invitation, and they left together.