House That Berry Built (10 page)

“Most certainly, sir. We have one book for each class.”

“May I see your book for Class Three? I should like to see the entries for the beginning of June.”

As the officer moved to a shelf—

“Yesterday morning,” said Falcon, “I saw the caravan. There was nothing of interest there, but I thought it a nice-looking job. On the small side, of course. All right for a honeymoon couple – for whom, I assume, it was built.”

Here the sergeant returned with a book.

“There are the entries, sir, for the first week of June.”

There were only four, and the caravan was the third.

EXIT on June 4th, at 11.30 a.m., caravan, dark blue, no. 0E567 GB (Triptyque): passengers two – English owner and English chauffeur – passport D77894 Shapely and passport G19632 Tass.

RE-ENTRY on June 7th, at 11.00 a.m., chauffeur only on foot – passport G19632 Tass returned: on June 10th, at 5.00 p.m., caravan no. 0E567 GB and owner – passport D77894 Shapely returned.

Falcon said nothing, but pointed to
June 10th
.

“And here,” said the official, “is a note which the chauffeur bore.”

A piece of note-paper passed.

The note was written in French.

To the Custom Officer on duty.

Please give bearer, Albert Edward Tass, his passport and help him to take the bus to Pau. He will not be coming back.

F C SHAPELY.

Falcon laid down the note.

“Were you on duty that morning?”

“No, sir,” said the official. He raised his voice. “Jacques!”

Another man entered the office.

“I think you received this note.”

The other examined the paper.

“Yes, that is right. A poor man with one eye, I remember. He was bearing a heavy suitcase, and it was very hot. He was hard to understand, but the note explained things for him. He caught the bus for Nareth: and there, no doubt, he would take the bus to Pau.”

“Would you know him again?” said Falcon.

“Oh, yes. He had but one eye.”

Falcon laid four photographs down – of men who were wearing shades over one of their eyes.

“Can you pick him out?”

The man bent over the four.

At last, he looked up.

“Monsieur is asking a lot.”

“I know I am. Do your best.”

“It is one of those two, for I know that he had no moustache. But I cannot say which.”

One of the two he had picked was the portrait of Tass.

“Monsieur is seeking this man?”

“I want him badly,” said Falcon. “If you should see him, detain him: if you should hear of him, please telephone at once to the Chief of the Police at Pau.”

“That is understood, Monsieur. It is a serious charge?”

“Murder,” said Falcon, simply – and left it there.

There was a wide-eyed silence.

“What happens at night?” said Falcon.

“The post is closed, Monsieur. Classes Two and Three may return; but no car may go out.”

“And for persons on foot?”

“It is closed also, Monsieur. The way is lighted and barred, and a guard is on duty all night. As you see, the way is most narrow, and the men have orders to shoot.”

“Yes,” said Falcon: “no one, I think, could get by. Well, thank you very much…”

The three of us took our leave.

As we returned to the cars—

“June 10th – not 9th,” said I. “That alters the shape of the case.”

“It may and it mayn’t,” said Falcon. “Shapely was unsure of his dates. And living and moving as he was, it’s easy enough to forget the day of the month. Even the day of the week. And forgive me for pointing out that you were not caravanning and yet you said that you saw him on Tuesday June 9th.”

“I know. But wait a minute. Let’s get this straight. I’m not excusing myself, but I’ll swear that Shapely said Tuesday when we were talking at Pau.”

“Remember his words?”

“Yes. ‘I passed through Lally on Tuesday,
en route
for the Col de Fer.’ I know he said that, for I thought ‘Was it Tuesday or Wednesday?’ But we’d had such a busy week that I thought ‘Oh, he’s probably right,’ and let it go.”

I saw Falcon frown.

“He was less definite with me.”

“It looks,” said Jonah, “like an attempt to mislead. But I can’t believe that it was, for Shapely was well aware of the entries which we have just read. And they are proof positive that he wasn’t in Lally on Tuesday and, incidentally, that he couldn’t have committed the crime.”

“I entirely agree,” said Falcon. “His alibi is cast-iron, because at the time of the murder he was on the far side of this post. But why didn’t he tell me that?”

My cousin shrugged his shoulders.

“
Qui s’excuse s’accuse
,” he quoted.

Falcon laughed.

“You will look at Shapely, won’t you?”

“I think anyone would,” said Jonah.

“And where does Tass come in?”

“D’you really want my guess?”

“I’d love to have it,” said Falcon.

“It was murder by proxy,” said Jonah. “Tass did the job all right, but Shapely set him on.”

A short four miles from Cluny, we turned to the right. For a mile a rough road danced to the tune of a lusty water, with forest on either hand and a ragged ribbon of blue to speak to the sky. Then forest and water fell back and the rough road lost itself in a mighty sward.

Luz Ortigue is a glen. On one hand the mountains rise from an upland lawn: on the other the forests come down to a sturdy torrent, so that its blue and white water is dappled with light and shade. The grass is sweet and close-cropped and is studded with clumps of oaks. In a word, I cannot imagine a fairer camping-ground. It is, of course, not so private as Paradise – because it is more convenient, more ‘indicated’. There were traces of more than one camp, and a tent had been pitched a short furlong from where we stopped. But it was a most lovely spot and made, at a guess, a wonderful starting-point. The tent we saw was empty. Its owners had clearly gone off, to prove the depths of the valley or capture the topless hills.

“I wish I liked camping,” said Falcon. “If I did, I should settle down here for the rest of my leave. But, to tell you the truth, I’m too soft.”

“So are we all,” said Berry. “Camping is all very well when you’re not more than thirty years old. After that, its shortcomings emerge – from the quilt of rapture with which you have smothered them up. Certain rites should be followed in comfort.”

“That will do,” said his wife. “I know you mean washing-up, but not everyone would.”

“I’d love to camp here,” said Jill. “I’d love to explore that valley, before the sun was up and the dew had gone.”

Falcon smiled.

“I’m sure you would. But you give the lie to Shakespeare – and very few can do that.”

Jill looked at him very gravely.

“What do you mean?”

“I may be wrong,” said Falcon, “but I don’t think you feel any older than you did at Shakespeare’s age.”

“What age was that?”

“Sweet and twenty,” said Falcon.

Jill looked round delightedly.

“Isn’t that a nice thing to say? But, if I was ever that, then it’s perfectly true. I don’t feel older at all. But, in their heart, I don’t think anyone does. There’s no reason why they should. I mean, you’re just you – whether you’re twenty-one or a hundred and six. Age is a law of Nature like everything else; but all her laws are so wise that if you obey them truly, you can’t go wrong.” She threw back her lovely head and looked at the sky. “It was awful, you know, when Piers and my babies were killed. They went down in a plane together. But I knew that they were all right. Better off than if they had lived. So I had nothing to grieve for – except, of course, that I’d love to have seen them again.” Two tears welled out of her eyes, but she dashed them away. “The point is – they were all right. And, if they’d lived, they might have been unhappy – you never know. After all, death’s quite natural. And everything that’s natural is right. I often think that the dead must be simply wild when people mourn. It’s really like getting a peerage – being moved up. It’s only that you can’t see them, though they can see you. And love goes on, you know. Love’s stronger than death.”

There was a long silence.

Daphne was biting her lip, and Berry was unashamedly wiping his eyes. Falcon got up and walked off. Jonah was very carefully filling a pipe. And Jill was still looking at the heaven, as though there were something there that her eyes could see.

I rose and followed Falcon.

After two or three minutes of silence—

“Lady Padua,” said Falcon, firmly, “does not belong to this earth.”

“She never has,” said I. “She’s out of the golden world.”

“And quite unsullied,” said Falcon. “I’ve never seen such a thing.”

“I think it’s unique,” said I. “She knows no wrong. It killed us to give up White Ladies: but, though she doesn’t know it, she saw us through. She is entirely selfless, and so – well, she gets things straight. Of course, her life is sheltered. We do our best.”

“By God, I don’t blame you,” said Falcon. “‘And whosoever shall offend one of these little ones…’”

“And, with it all, she’s wise.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. The thing is, she’s natural. She is the most natural being I’ve ever seen. And you have seen her grow up.”

“She’s never grown up,” said I. “She’s just as she always was.”

“Marriage?”

“Made not the slightest difference. She took the state in her stride. My cousin, Jill, is a throw-back. As I said just now, she’s out of the golden world.”

Falcon looked round.

“She belongs to these parts,” he said.

“I think she does. She can hear the tongues in the trees and read the books in the brooks.”

“Ah, but go on,” said Falcon.

“You’re right,” I said. “That is her secret. And how many can? What happens to her is right. Her faith passes all understanding. And that is why she is – Jill.”

Two days had gone by, and Falcon was about to be gone. One day he had spent at the site, talking with Joseph, working on the
ruisseau
with Jill and watching the great wall rise as if it belonged to him. Unless he was playing up, he was silly about the place. I remember that Daphne asked him if he thought we were mad. “Mrs Pleydell,” he said, “you are sane – in a frantic world. I’m proud to have seen the foundations of something worth while.”

And now he was about to be gone.

He would not go without viewing the site once more; so Jonah and I had gone with him: and we three were sitting together upon the ledge.

“I hope,” said Jonah, “you’ll let us know how you get on.”

“Of course I shall.”

“And if we can ever do anything, let me know.”

“I shall indeed,” said Falcon. He hesitated. “Captain Mansel, I’ve given your ‘guess’ a great deal of thought.”

“I’m not sure it was worth it.”

“I know it was. But it makes it still more important that Tass should be found. More. If your ‘guess’ is a good one, Shapely’s in touch with Tass.”

Jonah raised his eyebrows.

“He probably knows where he is. I wouldn’t put it higher than that.”

“For the moment, no: but sooner or later…”

“Yes,” said Jonah, nodding, “I think you’re right. Tass will have to be succoured from time to time. But that’s going to be difficult, Falcon – I mean, to have Shapely watched, perhaps for month after month.”

Falcon shook his head.

“Not in this case, Captain Mansel. I have the Home Office behind me as never before.”

“Then I think it’s a question of time. I believe if you stick to Shapely, Shapely will lead you to Tass.”

In Which Hadrian’s Wall is Finished,

and a Village is Entertained

Falcon left Lally on Thursday, the twentieth day of August, exactly four weeks since Berry had ‘turned the first sod’. On that day was finished the little retaining wall at the mouth of the entrance-drive. In fact, it was not ‘little’: but the great wall itself diminished all other masonry. Falcon had compared it to Hadrian’s Wall; and for us it went by that name from that time on.

To return to the ‘little’ wall. This was full twelve feet high by thirty feet long: it was very slightly ‘battered’, that is to say, sloping back, and it had been built in a curve to conform to the spacious sweep of the mouth of the entrance-drive. It did not touch the soil which it had been built to retain: between the two, there was a void of six inches which had been packed with stones. At regular intervals pipes of terracotta protruded for an inch from its face. These had been laid, of course, as the wall was being built, to let pass any water that otherwise might have collected between the soil and the wall.

Now that this work was done, two more masons were free to work upon Hadrian’s Wall. Until this was ten feet high, the gulf between it and the mountain was likewise packed with stones: and, as with the little wall, pipes had been laid through its depth, to drain any water away. I have spoken before of the doorway, gradually taking shape in the western wing. Its threshold was ten feet up from the foot of the wall: if, then, you entered by this, you stepped directly on to the wedge of packed stones. This surface we proposed to concrete without delay, for so there would be a magnificent storeroom and workshop, ready to hand. Its dimensions would be those of the terrace, which would, when the platform was built, lie directly above.

On the following Monday, the plans of the house arrived, and the brother contractors with them.

“Mesdames, Messieurs,” said Henri, “we do not propose, by your leave, to discuss these plans today. We propose, instead, to leave them with you to digest. And then, after two or three days, we two will return. By that time you will know them almost as well as we do, so that we shall, so to speak, stand upon level ground.”

“Or a platform,” said Jean, mischievously.

“You will find,” said Henri, smiling, “that they very closely resemble the beautiful pasteboard model which Madame and Miladi have made. Admittedly, we have made some suggestions: but if these are not to your taste, you have only to say the word. We are not architects. We are here to do as you wish, for you are to live in the house and you know what you want.

“And now I come to a matter of great importance.

“It would be a great mistake to decide in any haste upon the plans of such a residence. And there is no reason for haste; for the house cannot be begun until the platform is built, and the platform cannot be built until next spring. But wait! I am not quite sure that we must wait till the spring.”

“You mean…” began Jill, excitedly.

“Miladi, we promise nothing. It would not be right. The hard frosts may come in early. But we have made such good progress that we are inclined to think – and Joseph, whose opinion we value, agrees with us – that with a little good fortune, the thing might be done. It will mean a great effort – a spurt, to beat the frosts. But, if we can do it – well, we shall gain three months: and that will mean that about this time next year, you will be installed.”

A chorus of acclamation greeted his words.

As it died down—

“And now, Mesdames, Messieurs, I come to my point. The construction of the platform does not depend entirely upon the whim of the frosts. It also depends upon you. I will tell you why. The platform will not be of earth –or even of brick. It will be of ferro-concrete – cement and steel. And once the concrete has set, it must not be touched. Any holes in it, therefore – holes through which pipes will pass – must be left in the structure,
before
the concrete is laid. That is vital: for, once it is laid, Mesdames, it can never be pierced. Well, now, pipes must pass – the plumber, the builder’s foe, will not be denied. Drain-pipes, waste pipes, pipes for central heating… And so I ask for your help. Not for one moment do we ask you to pass the plans, as a whole. But we do ask two things. First, that you should make sure where your bathrooms and lavatories shall be built: and secondly, that you will engage what plumber you please and tell him to visit me as soon as ever he can. He will have your instructions and I shall give him a duplicate set of these plans; and, when he has worked things out, he will mark on the plan of the platform where he desires his holes.”

“How long can you give us?” said Jonah.

“Let me put it like this, Monsieur. Provided that the weather is kind, we should like to run in the concrete four weeks from today. But please remember this. We make this suggestion in your interest, and not in ours. If you feel that it cannot be done, then the platform must wait. But if you can do it, Monsieur, and if the weather is kind – well, then, you will be in your house by this time next year.”

To say that we fought for those tracings is very nearly true. Berry tore one, by snatching, before the brothers were fairly out of the house.

“The stairs,” shrieked Daphne. “Where have they put the stairs?”

“I can’t see them,” said Berry. “They must be outside.”

“There they are!” cried Jill. “Oh, isn’t that clever, Boy?”

It was very clever indeed – to our simple minds.

Thanks to Berry’s brain-wave, the design of the house was exactly the shape of a T, with the cross of the T facing south and the stem of the T running back to the mountainside. In the front or upper part of the cross of the T lay all the principal rooms, both upstairs and down: behind these rooms lay two galleries, one above the other, running the length of the cross.

Where the cross of the T met the stem, the brothers had hung a semicircular stair: the galleries were untouched, for the stairway was sunk in the stem – a broad, agreeable stairway which curled, with the wall on its right, from the ground floor up to the first. Not only was this a most convenient place, but it broke in an elegant way the line of the galleries. And when we perceived that, directly behind these stairs, on the opposite side of the wall, the brothers had hung the back-staircase, we gave the two of them best.

But not all their suggestions were so helpful.

Appalled, as we had feared they would be, by the simplicity of our design, a turret rose on the left and a bay bellied out on the right, and a ‘
rustique
’ balcony ran the whole length of the house. Still, it was simple enough to strike out suggestions like that, and all things that really mattered they had embodied or improved.

The outside walls would be solid and twenty inches thick. All inside walls would be solid and ten inches thick. The outside walls would be built of quarried stone: the inside walls would be built of blocks of concrete, turned out of a mould. Between the ground floor and the first and between the first floor and the attic, rafts of ferro-concrete were to be laid; and, except, of course, for the frames of the windows and doors, no wood would be used in the construction until the attic was reached. The roof would be hung with tiles which came from the north of France and were guaranteed against changes of temperature. The terrace and its parapet were to be laid with flags. The floors were to be of parquet. The downstairs gallery and the stairs were to be of marble, and the stairs would be graced by a wrought-iron balustrade. The fireplaces would be of brick, with recesses on either side, to contain the logs. All woodwork throughout the house was to be of seasoned oak. The shutters upon the ground floor were to be of steel: those on the first floor of oak. The plumbing, the wiring and the tiling of the interior were to be our affair.

“And very nice, too,” said Berry. “I’ve always wanted to live with a marble stair.”

“But what on earth,” said Daphne, “is all this going to cost?”

“They take care not to say,” said Jonah. “Nothing appears about price.”

“We shall be ruined,” said Daphne. “Marble and parquet and tiles from the north of France.”

“I will have my marble,” said Berry. “No one shall take it away. I shall probably be painted upon it. Besides, if we’re building our home, we may as well make it nice.”

“I agree,” said I. “We mustn’t dishonour the site.”

“I’m with you,” said Jill.

“Listen,” said Jonah. “All these details can wait. All that we have to decide without any delay is whether the bathrooms and lavatories are where we wish them to be; where else we want running water; where we want to have radiators; and the site of the furnace-room.”

“Is that all?” said Berry.

Jonah shrugged his shoulders.

“You heard what he said. If we want that platform this year, we must do our part. Once the concrete’s run in, no holes can be made. Damn it all, it’s going to be ten inches thick.”

My sister put a hand to her head.

“We seem to be building a fortress.”

“Why not?” said Berry. “An Englishman’s home is his castle – or so they say.”

I put in my oar.

“I support the brothers there, and Jonah will, too. A house such as we have designed will be an enormous weight. In the ordinary way, the weight of a house doesn’t matter – nobody gives it a thought. But that is because most houses are built on the earth. But two-thirds of the weight of our house will not be borne by the earth. Hence Hadrian’s Wall and a platform ten inches thick.”

“Well, we’ve plenty of time,” said Jill, “to settle the things Jonah says. The brothers said a month.”

“My darling,” said Jonah, “we have not plenty of time. We have not one moment to waste. We’ve got to find a plumber who’s willing to do the work. We’ve got to show him the plans and exactly what plumbing we want. He will then do his sums and render his estimates. And when we’ve accepted these, then – and not before – will he be in a position to mark on the plan of the platform the holes which he will require. And from what I know of plumbers, if he is in that position four weeks – not a month – from today, we shall have achieved a record. In fact we have less than four weeks; for Joseph will want to know where these holes are to go at least four days before the concrete’s run in.”

An interview with Joseph the next morning shewed forth the truth of these words, and we spent the rest of that day deciding exactly the plumbing which we should require.

By the plans, the furnace-room would stand just clear of the platform upon the soil: and the servants’ quarters, scullery and pantry would also be built upon earth: those, then, could wait. But the bathrooms and lavatories serving the principal rooms would all be above the concrete which must not be pierced. These appeared almost exactly where we had suggested they should stand, but it was clearly important that we should inform the plumber whereabouts, for instance, in a bathroom the various fittings should go.

“Drains will be drains,” said Berry. “You can’t get away from that. Once the platform is made, it will be no good lamenting that of course the bath should have lain where its lesser brother must stand.”

“But it’s frightfully difficult,” said Daphne. “I don’t know the width of a bath.”

“Roughly a metre,” said Jonah. “That’s three feet three. And two metres long. If you work on those dimensions, we can get a catalogue tomorrow and check them from that. The bathroom doors and windows will really dictate where the various requisites go.”

“‘Requisites’,” said Berry. “What a very beautiful word. Which reminds me that the condition of the western hinge of the requisite upon the ground floor of this residence is causing anxiety.”

“Carson’s fixed it,” said Jonah. “And now this plumber business. I think we should see de Moulin and ask him to give us a line on the plumbers of Pau. And tomorrow we must go in and see for ourselves.”

“How the hell does one choose a plumber?”

“By references,” said Jonah. “There’s no other way. You go to a man and ask him what work he’s done. Then you go to the people he’s worked for and ask them if his work works.”

“I see,” said Berry. “Well, I think I’ll leave that to you. I don’t want to spend my day discussing water-waste-preventers with women I’ve never seen. Besides, we shall be arrested. ‘Pardon, Madame, but am I right in thinking that the amenities of your beautiful home were recently crowned by the installation of a closet of unusual convenience?’ I know this is France, but—”

“If it works,” said Jonah, “they’ll show you with all their might. If it doesn’t, they’ll say so – at length. I repeat – there’s no other way. We must have a damned good plumber; otherwise we shall be sunk.”

De Moulin named three plumbers and prophesied evil of all. This was borne out by the households we visited. At the end of the second day we entered a very small shop which was not on de Moulin’s list. After a little delay, a man was fetched from the workshops which lay behind.

When we said what our business was, the other smiled.

“You are, then, the Messieurs who are building a château by Lally?”

“That’s quite right,” said Jonah. “How did you know?”

“There is a saying, Monsieur, that a city which is set on a hill cannot be hid. Besides, my nephew is your foreman.”

“What, Joseph?” said I.

“That is right. A conscientious lad.”

“Would you like to do the plumbing? It’ll be a pretty big job.”

The other bowed.

“It would be a fine order for me, sir, but I must tell you this. I am in a small way at present. I should have to ask you to pay me sums on account. The makers of baths, for instance, will give me but little credit: but you would not lose by that, for we should get a discount for cash. And if you would like a reference, Monsieur de Tourey of Lescar would speak for me. I put in his central heating at the end of last year. He is very enthusiastic. You see I was apprenticed in Switzerland, where the plumbing is very good.”

We arranged to take up the reference and let the man know the next day.

And the day after that he came to inspect the site…