Heavy Weather (31 page)

Monty sat down. There was in the simple action something of the triumph and exhaustion of the winner of a Marathon race. He stared in silence for a moment at a framed advertisement of Sigbee's Soda ('It Sizzles') which was assisting the wallpaper to impart to the room that note of hideousness at which hotel-keepers strive.

'Butterwick's her name,' he said at length. 'Gertrude Butterwick.'

'Yes?' said Pilbeam. 'Where's your cheque-book?' 'Her eyes,' said Monty, 'are greyish. And yet, at the same time blue-ish.'

'I bet they are,' said Pilbeam. 'In one of your pockets, perhaps?'

'About her hair,' said Monty. 'Some people might call it brown. Chestnut has always seemed to me a closer description. She's tallish, but not too tall. Her mouth . ..'

'I'll tell you,' said Pilbeam.' Let me get a sheet of paper.'

'You want me to draw you a picture of her?' said Monty, a little doubtfully.

' I want you to write a cheque for me.'

'Oh, ah, yes, I see what you mean. My cheque-book's upstairs in my suitcase.'

'Then come along,' said Pilbeam buoyantly, 'and I'll help you unpack.'

Beach sat in his pantry, sipping brandy. And if ever a butler was entitled to a glass of brandy, that butler, he felt, was himself. He rolled the stuff round his tongue, finding a certain comfort in the fiery sting of it.

His heart was heavy. It was a kindly heart, and from the very first it had been deeply stirred by the stormy romance of Mr Ronald and his young lady. He wished that life were as the writers of the detective stories, to which he had become so addicted, portrayed it. In those, no matter what obstacles Fate might interpose in the shape of gangs, shots in the night, underground cellars, sinister Chinamen, poisoned asparagus and cobras down the chimney, the hero always got his
girl. In the present case Beach
could see no such happy ending. The significance of the presence in the library of Lady Constance Keeble and Lady Julia Fish had not escaped him. He feared that it meant the worst.

Eighteen years of close association with Clarence, Earl of Emsworth, had left the butler with a very fair estimate of his overlord's character. He wished well to everyone - Beach knew that. But where viewpoints clashed and arguments began, a passionate desire for peace at any price would undoubtedly lead him to decide in favour of whoever argued loudest. And eighteen years of close association with Lady Constance Keeble told Beach who, on the present occasion, that would be.

He saw no hope. Sighing despondently, he helped himself to another glass of brandy. Usually at this hour he drank port. But port to him was a symbol. He never touched it till dinner was over and the coffee served, and it signified that the responsibilities of his office were at an end and that until the morrow should bring its new cares and duties his soul was at rest. Port tonight would have been quite unsuitable.

Sighing again and about to start sipping once more, he became aware that he was no longer alone. Mr Ronald had entered the room.

'Don't get up, Beach,' said Ronnie.

He sat down on the table. His face had a pinkness deeper than its wont. There was a repressed excitement in his manner. The butler was reminded of that other occasion, ten days ago, when this young man had come into his pantry looking much the same as he was looking now and, having announced that he intended to steal his lordship's pig, had proceeded to cajole him into becoming his accomplice and helping him to feed the animal. The weighing machine in the servants' bathroom had informed Beach that he had lost three pounds in two days over that little affair.

'Bad show, this, Beach.'

Beach stirred mountainously. Solicitude shone from his prominent eyes. It has already been mentioned that Beach in the drawing-room and Beach in his pantry were different entities. He was now in his pantry, where he could cast off the official mask and be the man with whom a younger Ronnie had once played bears on this very floor.

'Extremely, Mr Ronald. Then you have heard?'

'Heard?'

'The unfortunate news.' 'You were there when I heard it. In the hall.' The butler rolled his eyes, to indicate that there was something much more Stop Press than that. 'The Empress has eaten Mr Galahad's book, Mr Ronald.' 'What!'

'Yes, sir. Somebody apparently left it in her sty, and she was devouring the last of it when his lordship found her.' 'Pilbeam!'

'So one would be disposed to imagine, Mr Ronald. No doubt he had employed the sty as a hiding-place.' 'And it's gone?' 'Quite gone, Mr Ronald.' 'And Aunt Constance knows about it?' 'I fear so, Mr Ronald.' Ronnie's face became a little pinker.

'Well, it doesn't make much odds. There was never any chance of recovering it from Pilbeam. That's why I... I think I could do with a spot of that brandy, Beach.'

'Certainly, sir. I will get you a glass. Why you . . . you were saying, Mr Ronald?'

'Oh, just a sort of decision I came to. This is good stuff, Beach.'

'Yes, sir.'

'A sort of decision,' said Ronnie, sipping pensively. 'I don't know if you noticed that I was a bit quiet at dinner?' 'You did strike me as somewhat silent, Mr Ronald.' 'I was thinking.' 'I see, sir.'

'Thinking,' repeated Ronnie. 'Doing a bit of avenue-exploring. I came to this decision with the fish.' 'Indeed, sir?'

'Yes. And I think it will work, too.'

Ronnie swung his legs for a while without speaking.

'Have you ever been in love, Beach?'

'In my younger days, Mr Ronald. It never came to anything.' 'Love's a rummy thing, Beach.' 'Very true, sir.'

'Sort of keys you up, if you understand me. Makes you feel

you'd stick at nothing. Take any chance. To win the girl you love, I mean.' 'Quite so, sir.'

' Go through fire and water, as you might say. Brave every peril.' 'No doubt, sir.'

'Got another dollop of that brandy, Beach?' 'Yes, sir.'

'Well, there it is,' said Ronnie, emptying his glass and holding it out for fresh supplies. 'Half-way through the fish course I made up my mind. Now that that manuscript has gone, I'm up against it. At any moment Aunt Constance will be at Uncle Clarence, telling him not to give me my money.'

The butler coughed commiseratingly.

'I rather fancy, Mr Ronald, that her ladyship was in the act of doing so when I entered the library not long ago.' 'Then by this time she has probably clicked?' 'I very much fear so, Mr Ronald.'

'Right!' said Ronnie briskly. 'Then there's nothing left but strong measures. The time has come to act, Beach.' 'Sir?'

'I'm going to steal that pig.'

'What,
again,
Mr Ronald?'

Ronnie eyed him affectionately.

'Ah, you remember that other time, then?'

'Remember it, Mr Ronald? Why, it was only ten days ago.'

'So it was. It seems years. Not that I can't recall every detail of it. I haven't forgotten how staunchly you stood by me then, Beach. You were splendid.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Wonderful! Marvellous!' continued Ronnie in an exalted voice. 'I doubt if there has ever been anybody who came out of an affair better than you did out of that one. A sportsman to the finger-tips, that's what you showed yourself. And don't,' said Ronnie earnestly, 'think that I didn't notice it, either. I appreciated it very much, Beach.'

'It is very kind of you to say so, sir,' said the butler, his head swimming a little.

'You're a fellow a fellow can rely on.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Through thick and thin.' 'Thank you, sir.'

'When I got this idea of stealing the Empress this second time, Miss Brown said to me, "Oh, but you can't ask Beach to help you again." And I said, "Of course I can. Apart from the fact that Beach and I have been pals for eighteen years, he's devoted to you." And she said, "Is he?" and I said, "You bet he is. There's nothing in the world Beach wouldn't do for you." And she said, "The darling!" Just like that. And you should have seen the look in her eyes as she said it, Beach. They went all soft and dreamy. I believe if you had been there at the moment she would have kissed you. And I shall be greatly surprised,' said Ronnie, with the air of one offering a treat to a deserving child, 'if, when everything is over and you've been as staunch as you were before and chipped in and done your bit again, as you did then, she doesn't do it.'

All through this moving address the butler had been shaking and rumbling in a manner which would have reminded an eyewitness irresistibly of a volcano on the point of finding self-expression. His eyes had bulged, and his breathing was coming in little puffs.

'But, Mr Ronald!'

'I knew you would be pleased, Beach.'

'But, Mr Ronald!'

Ronnie eyed him sharply.

'Don't tell me you're thinking of backing out?'

'But, sir!'

'You can't at the last moment like this, after all our plans have been made. It would upset everything. I can't act without you. You wouldn't let me down, Beach?'

'But, sir, the risk!'

'Risk? Nonsense.'

'But, Mr Ronald, his lordship was notified on the telephone in my presence not half an hour ago that an attempt was to be made upon the Empress tonight. I have only just returned from seeing Pirbright and conveying his lordship's instructions to him to be on his guard.'

'Well, that's fine. Don't you see how this fits in with our plans? Pirbright will be waiting for this chap. He will catch him. And then what will he do, Beach ? He will march him off to Uncle Clarence, leaving the coast absolutely clear. While he's gone we nip in and collar the animal without" the slightest danger of inconvenience.' The butler puffed silently.

'Think what it means, Beach! My happiness! Miss Brown's happiness! You aren't going to go through the rest of your life kicking yourself at the thought that a little zeal, a little of the pull-together spirit on your part would have meant happiness for Miss Brown?'

'But if I were detected, sir, my position would be so extremely equivocal.'

'How can you be detected? Pirbright won't be there. Nobody will be there. I only need your help for about five minutes. This isn't like the last time. I'm not planning to hide the Empress somewhere and feed her. This is the real, straight kidnapping stuff. Just five minutes of your time, Beach, just five little minutes and you can come back here and forget all about it.'

Strong tremors continued to shake the butler's massive frame.

'Really only five minutes, Mr Ronald?' he said pleadingly.

'Ten at the outside. I forgot to tell you, Beach, that one of the things Miss Brown said about you was that you reminded her of her father. Oh, yes, and that you had such kind eyes.'

The butler's mouth opened. Lava might have been expected to flow from it, for his resemblance to a volcano had now become exceptionally close. But it was not lava that emerged. What did so was a strangled croak. This was followed by a remark which Ronnie did not catch.

'Eh?'

'I said "Very good," Mr Ronald,' said Beach, looking as if he were facing a firing squad. 'You'll do
it?' 'Yes, Mr Ronald.'

'Beach,' said Ronnie with emotion, 'when I'm a millionaire, as I expect to be a few years after I've put my money in that motor business, the first thing I shall do is to come to this pantry with a purse of gold. Two purses of gold. Dash it, a keg of gold. I'll roll it in and knock off the lid and tell you to wade in and help yourself.'

'Thank you, Mr Ronald.'

'Don't thank
me
,
Beach. You're the fellow who's entitled to all the gratitude that's going. And, talking of going, shall we be? There isn't a moment to lose. Shift ho, yes ?'

'Very good, Mr Ronald,
' said the butler in a strange,
deep, rumbling voice, not unlike that of Mr A. L. Disher on the telephone.

Chapter Seventeen

Lady Julia Fish gave a little yawn and moved towards the door. For ten minutes she had been listening to her sister Constance express her views on the subject under discussion, and she was not a woman who accepted contentedly a thinking role in any scene in which she took part. If Connie had a fault - and off-hand she could name a dozen - it was that she tended to elbow her associates out of the picture at times like this. Standing by and acting as a silent audience bored Lady Julia.

'Well, if anybody wants me,' she said, 'they'll find me in the drawing-room.'