Berry And Co. (2 page)

“We’d better strike across the next field,” said Miss Deriot. “There’s a path that’ll bring us out opposite
The Thatcher
. It’ll save us about five minutes.”

“You might have been born here,” said I.

“I was,” said Agatha. She nodded towards a beech wood that stood a furlong away. “The trees hide the house. But we left when I was seven, and only came back to the County five years ago. And here’s our field.”

The five-barred gate was padlocked. I looked at my companion.

“Shall I get over, advance ten paces, and gaze into the middle distance? Or aren’t you that sort?”

Miss Deriot flung back her head and laughed.

“I’d rather you gave me a leg up,” she said.

With a hand on my shoulder and a foot in my hand, she was up and over in an instant. I vaulted after her.

“You know,” I said, “we ought to perform, you and I. With a painter’s ladder, a slack wire, and a little practice, we should do wonders. On non-matinée days I might even lift you with my teeth. That always goes well, and no one would know you were as light as a rose-leaf.”

“Seven stone three in the bathroom,” said Agatha. “Without stockings. Some rose-leaf.”

We were going uphill. The meadow through which we were passing sloped to an oaken fence, stoutly constructed to save the cattle from a perilous fall. For on its farther side the ground fell away sheer, so that at this point a bluff formed one high wall of the sunken road for which we were making.
The Thatcher
, I remembered, stood immediately opposite to the rough grass-grown steps, hewn years ago for the convenience of such passengers as we. There was a stile set in the fence, and as I swung myself over I glanced down past the edge of the bluff and into the road below.

In the little curved space that fronted the inn the Rolls was standing silent and unoccupied.

I must have exclaimed, for Agatha was over the stile in an instant, and asking me what was the matter. Then she saw, and the words died on her lips. Together we stood spellbound.

The door of the inn was shut, and there was no one in sight.

My first impulse was to dart down the steps, beat upon the door of the tavern, and confront the thief. But valour yielded to discretion. The great thing was to recover the car. I had but a slip of a girl with me, the spot was a lonely one, and it was more than likely that the highwayman was not working alone. Besides, Agatha must not be involved in any violence.

I turned to my lady.

“You stay here. I’m going to take her and drive straight to the police station. I’ll pick up some police and come back just as quickly as ever I can.”

Miss Deriot shook her pretty head.

“I’m coming with you,” she said. “Carry on.”

“But, my dear—”

“I often wish I wasn’t so obstinate.” She spoke meditatively. “But we’re all like that. Mules aren’t in it with the Deriots,” she added, with a dazzling smile.

“Neither, apparently, are cucumbers,” said I, and with that I began to descend the rough stairs, stepping as delicately as I could.

Halfway down I turned to look at my companion, and at that moment the step upon which I was standing gave way. The scrambling sounds which proclaimed my fall were followed by the rasping protest of yielding cloth, and I came to rest six feet from the road at the expense of a pre-War coat, which had caught the corner of one of the unplaned risers. All had been so still, that in that hollow place the noise could not have failed to attract the attention of any one who was within earshot, and I lay for a moment where I had fallen, straining my ears for the sound of footsteps or voices.

“Are you all right?” whispered a soft voice above me.

I turned my head and nodded. Miss Deriot, standing with clasped hands, heaved a sigh of relief and prepared to continue her descent.

Gingerly I stepped down into the sandy road and started to cross it a-tiptoe.

Facing towards Bloodstock, the car presented her off side to us.

With the utmost caution I proceeded to negotiate the two spare wheels and clamber into the driver’s seat. As I sat down, Miss Deriot slipped in front of the bonnet and round to the near side. She was opening the high side-door and my foot was on the self-starter, when I heard the murmur of voices.

We were not a second too soon.

The moment I had started the engine there was a cry, followed by the clattering of heavy shoes upon cobbles, and as the car slid into the road a man in a grey hat came tearing out of the inn’s courtyard, waving his arms and yelling like one possessed. Hard on his heels came pounding his supporters, three of them, all bellowing like bulls.

So much I saw for myself. Agatha, kneeling on the seat by my side, kept me informed of their movements till we swept out of sight.

“He’s simply dancing. The one in the grey hat, I mean. Now he’s shaking his fist at us. Oh, he’s mad. He’s thrown his hat on the ground. O-o-o, Boy, he’s trying to kick one of the others. Oh, I wish you could see…” The merry voice dissolved into peals of laughter.

Then the road curled, and Agatha turned left about and settled herself by my side.

“How did you know my Christian name?” I demanded.

“Your sister used it this morning. You see, I’ve forgotten your other, and I can’t keep on saying ‘you.’ But I won’t do it again.”

“Please, Agatha.”

“Deriot. One ‘r.’ I say, you’ve torn your coat properly.”

“It feels as if it was in two pieces,” said I.

“If it wasn’t for the collar, it would be,” said Agatha. “Never mind. Bare backs are still fashionable. And what’s a torn coat, when you’ve got the car again?”

“You’re right,” I agreed. “You’d hardly believe it,” I added, “but I can tell from the feel of her that some stranger’s been driving.”

“I can believe it. After all, a car’s just like a horse.”

As she spoke, we sped into the market square of Bloodstock. The police station stood in Love Lane, a couple of streets away.

Here a disappointment was in store. The sole representative of the Law was a station sergeant in his shirt-sleeves and a state of profuse perspiration. Between his lips was a penholder, and he held a telephone receiver to his left ear. In an adjoining room the bell of another telephone was ringing violently in long regular spasms, while, somewhere quite close, a dog was giving ceaseless vent to those short sharp barks which denote impatience of detention.

A sudden elevation of the sergeant’s eyebrows invited me to state my business, but before I had spoken two sentences he shifted the penholder from his mouth and shook his head.

“’Fraid I can’t ’elp you at the moment, sir. That’s the third car what’s been stole in this distric’ this mornin’. There’s a ’ole gang of ’em about. Every one excep’ me’s out after ’em now. ’Eaven knows when they’ll come in. An’ there’s that other telephone goin’ like mad, an’ the Chief Constable’s lef’ his bull-dawg tied up there, an’ ’e won’t let me within six foot of it.” He turned to blare into the mouthpiece. “’Ullo! ’Oo
are
you? ’Oo
are
you? Wot! Oh, I can’t bear it. ’Ere, for ’Eaven’s sake, ’old the line.” He set down the receiver, shook the sweat out of his eyes, and sank on to a stool. “Another blinkin’ car gone,” he said hoarsely. “I dunno wot’s the matter with the world. I wish I was back in France.”

Love Lane was a narrow street, so I did not attempt to turn the car, but drove on and presently out of the town by back streets on to the Bilberry road.

It would have been better if I had telephoned to White Ladies before leaving Bloodstock, to announce my recovery of the car; but I was expecting to be back there so soon that it seemed unnecessary.

Indeed, it was only when we were once more under way that I thought of the colt and the embrocation, to say nothing of my lady’s two-seater, now standing helpless in the gloom of the wayside barn.

“I tell you what,” said I. “We’ll drive to the barn and pick up the lotion, and then I’ll take you home. Then I can run your chauffeur back to the barn with a spare cover, drop him there, and push off to White Ladies.”

“I can improve on that,” said Agatha, with a glance at her wrist. “It’ll be past one by the time we get home, so you must stay to lunch. You can telephone to White Ladies from there. And afterwards I’ll go back with you – I was to come over this afternoon, wasn’t I? – and we can drop the chauffeur at the barn on the way. And he can come for me in the evening.”

Agatha was living at Broadacre, a fine old place on the edge of the forest itself, and thither we came without incident, just as an old-fashioned gong was summoning the household to meat.

Admiral and Mrs Deriot were kindness itself. First I was given a long, cold, grateful drink. Then the old sailor led me to his own chamber and ministered personally to my wants. My coat was given to a maid to be roughly stitched, and when I appeared at luncheon it was in a jacket belonging to my host. Our story was told and retold, the lawlessness of the year of Grace 1919 was bewailed, and a violent denunciation of motor-thieves was succeeded by a bitter proscription of the County Police.

In the midst of my entertainment I remembered that I had not telephoned to White Ladies, but the servant sent to make the connection was informed by the Exchange that the line was out of order.

“I expect it’s fused,” said I. “With Berry at one end and that station sergeant at the other, the strain must have been fearful.”

It was half-past two before we were once more in the car. On the back seat sat the Deriots’ chauffeur, holding a spare wheel between his knees.

It did not take us long to reach the barn, and, so soon as we had once more unearthed the farmer, authorized him to suffer the chauffeur to remove the two-seater, and discharged our debt for “accommodation,” I turned the Rolls round and headed for White Ladies.

“She’s certainly a beautiful car,” said Agatha, as the Rolls sailed up a treacherously steep gradient on top. “It’s like being in a lift.”

“And, but for you, we might never have seen her again. Shall I give you a stamp album, or would you like to drive?”

“D’you really mean that?” said Miss Deriot.

I shot her a glance. There was no mistaking the eagerness of her parted lips and the sparkle of her gay brown eyes. By way of replying I brought the car to a standstill. A moment later we had changed places.

“It’s awfully kind of you,” said Agatha delightedly, as she let in the clutch. “I’ve always wanted to drive a Rolls. I hope I shan’t hurt her.”

“You’ll do her good,” said I. “I watched you in the two-seater. You’ve got beautiful hands.”

“Thank you, Boy.”

“Now you shall have a stamp album as well. Go carefully here. There used to be a wasps’ nest in that bank, but it’s closed now, same as the German banks. What a war!”

“But I don’t collect stamps.”

“Then she shall have a dog. What about a Sealyham to sleep on your bed and bite the postman?”

“I’d love one,” said Agatha.

“And you’ll sit up in bed in the morning, with your hair all about your eyes, and smile at him, and he’ll growl back at you – I can just see you.”

“Thanks awfully. But you’re wrong about my hair.”

“Is it never unruly?”

“Only by day. I wish to goodness I could wear it down.”

“So do I. Then we could all sit on it when the grass was wet. At the moment there’s a particularly beautiful tress caressing your left shoulder. And I think you ought to know that the wind is kissing it quite openly. It’s all very embarrassing. I hope I shan’t catch it,” I added cheerfully.

Miss Deriot made a supreme effort to look severe.

“If you do,” she said uncertainly, “I shall drive straight into the horse-pond.”

“‘Sh!” said I reprovingly. “You oughtn’t to jest about such things. You might catch it yourself. Easily.” Here we passed the horse-pond. “You know you’ll never be able to look fierce so long as you have that dimple. You’ll have to fill it up or something. I suppose it’s full of dew every morning now.”

Without a word Agatha slowed down, turned up a by-road, and stopped. Then she proceeded to back the car.

“What on earth is she doing?” said I.

She turned a glowing face to mine.

“Going back to the horse-pond,” she flashed.

I laid a hand on her arm and she stopped.

“My dear, if you must have a bath, you shall have one directly you get to White Ladies. I’ll turn on the water for you. But let me beg of you—”

“If I go on, will you promise to behave?”

“Faithfully.”

“And fold your arms and sit like a groom all the way?”

“I suppose you couldn’t make it a footman. Then I could stand on the petrol tank. However, as it’s your birthday—”

I folded my arms with a sigh. Instantly Agatha leaned towards me with a dazzling smile.

“Good Boy,” she said in a caressing tone. “Now he shall have a stamp album.”

“But I don’t collect stamps.”

The smile deepened. But for her red mouth, her little white teeth would have been the prettiest things in the world.

“Well, I’d thought of a stamp album,” she said slowly. “However, as it’s your birthday—”

A minute later we were back in the main road.

By my direction Miss Deriot drove straight to the stables, and we left the car standing in the middle of the yard.

As we walked round to the front of the house, “We won’t tell the others that we’ve found her just yet,” said I. “We’ll hear what they’ve got to say first.”

“Perhaps they’re all out looking for her,” said Agatha.

“Not all. Daphne’s sure to be here somewhere.”

As I spoke we rounded a clump of laurels to see the lady in question comfortably ensconced in a deck-chair upon the lawn. By her side was Jill, seated upon a cushion, one little foot tucked under her, nursing the other’s instep with her slim, brown hand. On a rug at her feet lay Jonah, his chin propped between his two palms and a pipe in his mouth.

All three were gazing contentedly across the grass to where the drive swept wide to the foot of the broad grey steps.
There stood a handsome Rolls-Royce, the facsimile of the one from which we had just alighted.