Berry And Co. (14 page)

Berry spoke between his clenched teeth in a voice shaken with choler.

“We’ll have that blistered swine if we have to drag hell for him. For all he knows, the car’s overturned and on fire, and we’re pinned under it. It’s German. Pure full-blooded German. It’s the most verminous thing I’ve ever dreamed of. It’s – Burn it! Words fail me.”

He rose and got out of the car. I followed him and helped Jill to alight. She was a little pale, and, when she saw the havoc on the off-side, her eyes began to fill with tears.

I put my arm about her.

“Don’t worry, darling. It looks worse than it is. And we’ll have that merchant’s blood. We’ve got his number.”

Daphne came up to comfort her, and Jonah, after a cursory glance at the damage, limped to the opposite side of the road, sat down on the bank, and lighted a cigarette.

“What was he doing?” said Berry, his face still a dark red.

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Shouldn’t like to say. Maybe seventy. Maybe more. But it was a frightful pace.” I pointed along the road to left and right. “See how it curves. And we’re on the outside of the bend. To clear us at that pace, he’d’ve had to go over himself.”

“How can we hit him best?”

“All round. We can summon him under the Motor Car Acts and bring a civil action for damages. He ought to go down heavily.”

“No escape?”

“I should say we’ve got him cold.”

Berry heaved a long sigh and clapped me on the back.

“I feel better already,” he said.

Before doing anything else, Jonah and I subjected the Rolls to a careful examination.

Both wings and the running-board on the off-side had been ripped off, and the front axle was bent by the side of the steering-pin. The off fore-wheel had apparently been struck on the tyre, and the fact that neither of the fore-wheels had collapsed spoke volumes for their sturdy construction. The shock, however, had put the steering-gear out of action. So far as we could tell, that was the extent of the damage. Whether any further injuries would later appear, it was impossible to say.

I crossed to the girls and Berry, who were seated disconsolate upon the bank on the opposite side of the road. Heavily I made my report.

“There’s only one thing to do,” I concluded. “I must leg it to Marvel and see if I can raise a couple of mechanics, some tools, and a car. I can drive back with them, and then we can leave them here and all go on in the hireling to Hillingdon. We shan’t get any lunch, but we’ll be in time for the wedding, with luck. By the time we get back from Monk’s Honour, if the fellows know their job, we ought to be able to get the Rolls to Marvel under her own power. From there she’ll have to come up to Town by rail. And we can go back by the special, whenever it leaves.”

As I finished speaking, Jill gave a little cry, and I turned to see a small white scrap, way down the long white road, plodding wearily in our direction. It was our Champion. As he came nearer, it was obvious that he was much exhausted. More than once he stumbled, and a red tongue lolled from his gaping jaws; but his little tail was up, and, as he toiled gamely towards us, he wagged it to and fro by way of greeting. Of one accord we welcomed him with a cheer. Obviously gratified by our appreciation, Nobby smiled an unmistakable smile and, wagging his tail more vigorously than before, quickened his flagging steps. A moment later he thrust a dusty nose against my extended hand and, bowing his tousled head sideways by way of homage, rolled over on his back and lay panting in the shade at my feet.

“Good little chap,” said I, stroking his heaving flank. “It didn’t take you long to get a move on.”

“You darling!” said Jill, stooping to caress him. “The way you went after that car was just heroic.”

“I suppose,” said Berry, “that if I were to suggest that he knew perfectly well that he couldn’t catch it, and that it was nothing more than a brilliant display of eye-wash, I should be abused.”

“What a shame!” cried Daphne and Jill in a breath. “What a beastly shame!”

“I said so,” said Berry. “Now, if I’d got out and chased it, you’d have had me certified.”

“I agree,” I retorted. “And if you were to offer to walk to Marvel instead of me, I should have you watched.”

“Don’t be afraid,” was the rejoinder. “The shock was severe, but I’m not as bad as that. How soon d’you think you’ll be back?”

I turned to my sister.

“I’m banking on being able to get a car. But there mayn’t be one. So, if you can get a lift, don’t wait.” I pointed to Nobby. “He’ll want to come with me, so hang on to him. And if you could find some water” – I glanced at the oast-house – “I think he’d be glad of it.”

“All right, dear. Take it as easy as you can.”

A moment later I was striding along the Marvel road.

By the time I had covered the two miles it was a quarter past one, and I was unpleasantly hot. I was also conscious of being improperly dressed in an unusually loose grey overcoat, tweed cap, striped cashmere trousers and patent-leather boots. I had taken off my morning coat and waistcoat before starting to walk, but the heat was awful, and my stiff white shirt and collar were wilting visibly…

I was fortunate to obtain the services of two mechanics, but I must confess that my face fell when the only car that was available proved to be a 1908 Ford…

As we drew up at the fatal corner, the others came out of the oast-house to see what was making the noise. When they beheld their conveyance, they were profoundly moved.

“Do you mean to say,” said Daphne, “that this is the best you could do?”

I nodded.

“And you’ll have to look sharp if you want to be there before the service is over. One cylinder’s missing.”

“So’s the skid-pan,” said Berry. “And where’s the back seat? I beg your pardon – I’d got it the wrong way round. It is facing that way, isn’t it? Yes. Oh, but what a line! What finish! You know, all it wants is a board with ‘Ancient Lights’ on the radiator, and somebody to close its doors one day in every year, and then, whenever the fowls lay in it, you can turn them out.”

During this eulogy Jonah had been busy transferring the hat-boxes from the Rolls, and two minutes later the mechanics had been given their instructions, and we were ready to start.

I took the wheel, with Jonah sitting beside me. Daphne and Jill sat upon the back seat, and Berry, in a standing position, Nobby, the hat-boxes, and the buttonholes more than occupied the remaining space.

“Right behind?” I inquired.

“Anything but,” said Berry. “Still, the door that will shut is closed, so carry on.”

As tenderly as I could, I let in the clutch.

Instantly, with a frightful jerk, the car leapt forward.

As it did so, Berry lost his balance and, with a yell of apprehension, fell heavily into the welter of hat- and bandboxes, the cardboard of which gave right and left. Construing his involuntary action as the demonstration of a new game, Nobby immediately leaped barking upon him and began to lick his face. Daphne and Jill clung to one another, convulsed with merriment and emitting such tremulous wails of laughter as the function of breathing would permit, while, with tears coursing down his cheeks, Jonah was trying to bellow a coherent description of the catastrophe into my ear. And all the time the good old car ground raving along the road, heaving herself over the macadam in a sickening series of lurches, to every one of which we found ourselves reluctantly compelled to conform…

The bride was ten minutes late, and we beat her by a short head. As we were ushered, breathing heavily, into our places, there was a tell-tale stir at the porch, uprose the strains of a well-known hymn, the bridegroom glanced round and gave slightly at the knees, and the next moment his future wife had entered the aisle.

Furtively I felt my collar and wiped the perspiration from my face… It was with something of a shock that, as the echoes of the “Amen” died away, I heard a familiar growl.

Hastily I turned in my seat to see Nobby three paces away. With back arched, one fore-paw raised, and his white teeth bared, he was regarding the trousers of an amateur sidesman, who had set a foot upon the broken string which trailed from his collar, with a menacing glare…

By the time I had bestowed the terrier under lock and key and returned to the church, Madrigal was signing her maiden name for the last time.

Five days later Berry received the following letter—

SIR,

Mr Douglas Bladder of The Vines, Swete Rowley, has handed us your communication of the twenty-third inst.

We are instructed to say that, while there is no doubt that its number is LF 8057, Mr Bladder’s car did not leave the garage upon the day of the accident in which you were concerned, for the reason that he and his chauffeur were engaged in overhauling the engine.

It is therefore obvious that a mistake has been made, and that, unless some other car was bearing his number, which you will agree is improbable, in the natural confusion of the moment the letters or figures or both upon the offender’s number-plate were misread.

Our client wishes us to add that, while the tone of your letter is not such as he is accustomed to, he appreciates that it was written while you were smarting under a sense of grave injury, and was indeed intended for somebody other than himself.

Yours faithfully,

BERTHEIM AND GROWTH.

This being the quarter in which the wind was sitting, we made our dispositions accordingly.

So far as the number of the car was concerned, Daphne and Jonah never wavered, and we were certain about its colour and style. Moreover, we were all agreed that, while the back seat was empty, there were two people in front, and that the one who was not driving was wearing a chauffeur’s dress. Finally, the village of Swete Rowley lay but some twenty-two miles from the scene of the accident. But that was all. It was, of course, unthinkable that the offending car could have sustained no damage, but it was quite possible that it would have nothing more serious to show than a dented hub-cap and a battered wing; and, while hub-caps can be changed in five minutes, it is no great matter to straighten a bent wing, and any traces of battery which still survive can be unanswerably attributed to one or other of quite a variety of innocent mishaps.

Inquiries were set afoot, and the moment we learned that Mr Bladder in fact possessed a large green high-powered touring car, which he was in the habit of driving himself at a notorious pace, we threw down the glove. Solicitors were instructed, counsel’s opinion was taken, an information was sworn before a Justice of the Peace, and within one week of the date of his solicitors’ letter, Mr Douglas Bladder had become the recipient of a writ for four hundred pounds damages and four separate summonses under the Motor Car Acts. We were out for blood.

At Marvel’s Police Court the defendant appeared by his solicitor, who asked that the hearing of the summonses might be adjourned, pending the action in the High Court. This request was granted.

Everything possible was done to expedite matters, and by great good fortune the case of
Pleydell
v.
Bladder
came into the Special Jury list during the last week of July.

There is about the High Court a signal air of gravity which to the layman is most compelling. The majesty of the Law is not apparent: of severity there is but a suggestion: something, indeed, of dignity, but less than a visitor will expect to find: something of silence. These are but equerries, subordinate. The Lady Paramount is Consequence.

Here seem to dwell those things that signify. Here lies that crucial junction which is at once the terminus of Cause, and of Effect the starting-point. Here are wise analysts, skilled to distil its meaning from the idle word, surgeons whose cunning probes will stir its motive from the deed, never so thoughtless. Whole walls of law books, ranged very orderly, calf-bound, make up a reverend pharmacopoeia, where you shall find precepts of iron, smelted from trespasses and old-time bickerings, whose long-dead authors, could they but come to life, would gape and stare and scratch their humble heads to find their modest names become so notable.

Pursed lips, brows wrinkled in thought, and restless anxious eyes indorse the serious aspect of the place. The very bustle of counsel, the scurry of clerks, the dash of messengers, proclaim matters of moment to be afoot. The whispered consultation, the pregnant nod, the nervous litigant buttonholing his lawyer, his advisers urging a certain course upon an indignant suitor, the furtive fellowship of witnesses, the solemn tipstaves, the ushers commanding silence, and the still small voice of Justice, charge all the dusty atmosphere with such importance as ties up the ready tongues of chatterers, ushers the jest still-born, and renders the very self of Folly wide-eyed and breathless.

Punctually at half-past ten his lordship entered the Court, returned the bows of counsel, and took his seat upon the Bench. With a sharp jingle the usher drew the green curtains across the door which led into the Judges’ corridor, descended into the well of the Court, and looked complacently about him. Two or three cases were mentioned, the jury was sworn, and the Associate, after inquiring nonchalantly whether the King’s Counsel were prepared, called on the case of
Pleydell against Bladder
, and sank back in his seat with a look of resignation.

Daphne, Jonah, and Jill were seated behind the junior Bar, while Berry and I sat one upon either side of our attorney at the solicitors’ table. Upon the same bench, a little further along, was sitting Mr Bladder, a large bland gentleman, with an air of good-nature which in the circumstances was rather too pronounced to be natural, and a taste in dress which would have better become a younger and a slenderer man.

Briefly our leader opened the case. There was little to be said, and he was on his feet for less than a quarter of an hour, but in that space of time he had presented to the jury so vivid a word-picture of the accident, and had dwelt so convincingly upon the facts which pointed to the defendant’s guilt, that it was actually difficult to believe that the issue of the action was any longer in doubt, and I began to speculate upon the amount of damages we should be awarded. Such is the art of pleading.