House That Berry Built (9 page)

In Which Berry Turns the First Sod,

and Jonah Tells Falcon His Guess

In fact, no sod was turned; but a stone was prized out of the wall which kept the soil of the meadow from sliding into the road. The ceremony was duly performed soon after six o’clock on the twenty-third day of July. Joseph subscribed to the rite with great solemnity. Indeed, by his suggestion, we each pulled out one stone, while the workmen looked on. Then we stood away, and the little band fell to work.

We all took to Joseph at once, and Joseph took to us. He was a small merry-eyed man, wonderfully fit and strong and immensely capable. The men liked, but feared him. He was always first on the scene, and was always the last to leave. He knew his job inside out and could do any artisan’s business rather better than the artisan himself. Certain pieces of work he would let nobody touch: they were for his hand alone. He was never idle. He never stood watching, but worked with his underlings. Yet he had an eye like a hawk, and a man who wasted time disappeared at the end of the week. The summer working-day was ten hours long: Joseph’s was always eleven, and often longer than that. The man had
amour propre
. More. Never before had those for whom he was building displayed any interest in the work: but we took an intelligent interest in everything that was done. This carried Joseph into the seventh heaven, and he gave us the finest service that ever five people had.

By Saturday evening, two things had become most clear. The first was how wise we had been to decide that the entrance should be at the western end of the site: the second was that, though the ground there was lower than at the eastern end, the miniature cliff of soil, which, by cutting into the meadow, the men had laid bare, would have to be held. Indeed, this had had to be revetted to allow the work to go on – roughly revetted with timber, to hold the soil back. But this was not too safe, and the struts, of course, diminished the width of the entrance itself: and so, since, sooner or later, a wall would have to be built, the masons were coming on Monday to start the work.

And there you are.

Before we could build our house, we had to build a platform on which it could stand: before we could build the platform, we had to build a forty-foot wall to hold the platform in place: and before we could build that wall, we had to build a twelve-foot retaining wall, to make the entrance safe for the lorries to go to and fro.

That is the price of building upon a mountainside.

Those first nine days flew by.

Joseph had set a hand-rail which climbed to our ledge, and that ledge was our battle-headquarters from that time on. There Daphne spent most of her day, and thither we repaired when we could no longer stand up. Jonah and I spent much of our time at the entrance, lending a hand with the mortar or shovelling soil: Carson helped Joseph to build an eyesore hut: and Berry and Jill spent hour after hour at the
ruisseau
, clearing the brambles that choked it and shoring up its banks where they had given way.

And then at last the foundations of the great wall were laid: six feet six inches across and ninety-seven feet long – a raft of ferro-concrete, to carry the wall itself. The work was done one Saturday. On the following Monday morning, the wall itself was begun.

There were now seven masons and thirty-two men in all. The brothers Henri and Jean were determined to waste no time. Two masons were still at work on the little retaining wall at the mouth of the drive. Three lorries were plying all day, bringing now sand, now cement and now the stone from the quarry two crow’s miles off. Three men were working at the quarry, hewing and blasting and breaking from dawn to dusk. The water had been piped from the
ruisseau
to a spot by Joseph’s hut: Joseph and Carson together had done this job. And a primitive crane had been reared, to hoist giant buckets to a scaffold along which trucks could be pushed to the foot of the great, big wall.

So for fourteen days…

Then a proper, steel crane arrived – with an extensible tower, and a man to drive its engine and manage its arm.

The wall was now twelve feet high and had tapered to five feet thick. Its wings, too, were taking shape…

In its western wing a doorway was being built – a Norman doorway worthy of the wall and its stone. This would admit to the chamber beneath the platform, and wood and coal and such stores could be brought in by this way. The doorway had been Joseph’s idea.

And now it was Sunday evening, and all of us, except Jonah, were standing on the site of the drive, gazing up at the wall.

“How much higher?” said my sister.

“It’ll be rather more than three times its present height.”

“Boy!”

“Plus another three feet six for the parapet.”

My sister covered her mouth.

“I feel quite frightened,” she said. “Whatever will everyone say?”

“I can’t imagine,” I admitted. “I confess there are times when I feel uneasy myself.”

“The quarry will give out,” said Berry. “There can’t be so much stone.”

“Plenty of stone,” said I. “Remember Chartres cathedral.”

“They won’t let us have that,” said Berry. “Destroying ancient monuments.”

“Fool,” said his wife. “Will the quarry really give out?”

“I’ll take you there tomorrow,” said I, “and you shall see for yourself what, if I were to tell you now, you would not believe.”

“I’ll believe you, Boy. Go on.”

“We seem to have used next to nothing.” That was the truth. “Broken up and set in mortar, a cubic yard of stone goes an absurdly long way.”

It was a grey-brown stone, very pleasing to look on and very hard. It was, of course, used rough – that is to say, undressed. The effect was admirable. (One ‘girdle’ was already in place. This was not to be seen, for it lay in the heart of the wall and was faced with stone. But it was there all right – girding the wall to the wings and the mountain beyond. ‘Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel.’)

We climbed to the masons’ scaffold and turned to look at the view.

“And this is nothing,” said Jill. “By the time it’s three times as high…”

“We shall have to be roped,” said Berry. “It won’t be safe.”

“With a decent parapet?”

“Well, a good, strong one. I’m not as young as I look.”

“With flags on its top,” said Jill. “All nice and warm. D’you think we could get some flags?”

“I know we can,” said I. “They cut them twenty miles off!”

“Oh, Boy, it’ll be like England.”

“That’s the idea, sweetheart.”

This was most true. One and all, we wanted an English home.

“There now,” said Daphne. “Tell me. I’ve always forgotten to ask. I really think my brain’s going.”

“I know it is,” said Berry. “I’m always afraid you’ll lick de Moulin good night.”

“You filthy beast,” said his wife. “But for heaven’s sake tell me before I forget again. The house itself – the façade – will be twenty-eight metres long. Why then is the terrace thirty? I mean, the terrace will be the length of the wall.”

“That,” said I, “was Henri and Jean’s idea. And a devilish good one, too. It will give us a way off the terrace on the western side of the house. A step or two down to the garden. So we can reach the terrace from either garden or house.”

“Brilliant,” said Daphne. “We’d never thought of that. What a mercy they did.”

“That,” said I, “is the awful part of building. Five times out of six, you think of a thing too late. But Jonah has vision, and Joseph’s a tower of strength.”

“I warn you,” said Berry, “we shall make some frightful mistakes. Only after we’ve dug the cesspool—”

“We shan’t if we look ahead.”

“We’ve made one already,” said Berry.

“What’s that?” said everyone.

“This wall won’t be high enough. What’s forty feet? If it was to be ninety feet high, we could call our residence ‘BABEL’ and look the world in the face.”

Here Jonah appeared.

“Falcon’s at Pau,” he said. “I’ve just been speaking to him. He’s coming to stay at Lally for two or three days.”

“You think he’s down here?” said Jonah.

“In this region,” said Falcon. “Except for one thing, I’ve little enough to go on. But at least he does know this district. They went to Portugal first: then they came up to France by sea: they entered the country at Bayonne and gradually made their way east: so they spent just over two months in the Basses Pyrénées. And that is the only part of the Continent that he does know – except some of Portugal. But I don’t think he’s there, and the French say he hasn’t left France.”

“‘Except for one thing,’” said Jonah.

Falcon smiled.

“My instinct. Officially, that doesn’t count. But it has been right. I have a definite feeling that Tass is somewhere down here.”

There was a little silence.

Then—

“You’re going to look round?” said my cousin.

“Yes. Shapely told me roughly the way they came, and I shall start from here and cover that ground. Unofficially, of course. Have you ever heard of a place called Luz Ortigue?”

“I have, but I’ve never been there. You turn to the right after Cluny. There’s no habitation there.”

“That’s where Tass was dismissed. He walked from there to Cluny to get a bus into Pau.”

“If you’d like to see it, I’ll take you there tomorrow. I’d like to see it myself.”

“That’s very kind of you. In my job seeing’s believing. I’d give a great deal to run that fellow to earth.”

“It was a barbarous crime.”

“Yes. And very well timed. The man was in Paris before the Yard was informed.”

“Purchase of the chloroform?” said Jonah.

“The French say it can’t be traced. That’s likely enough. And it may very well have been purchased in Portugal.”

“Finger-prints?”

“Yes. I didn’t say so in my letter. There are things one doesn’t write. On a packet of French cigarettes, that had fallen between the front seats of the family car.”

“Those of Tass?”

“Yes. As soon as I had seen Shapely, I sent a man out on the chance, to look at the caravan. The tumblers stand in a rack. After Tass had left him, Shapely had to shift for himself. He’d only used the first three – washed them and used them again. The other three had last been handled by Tass. At least, they bore the same prints as the packet of cigarettes.”

“Dead case,” said I, and stood up.

“I think so,” said Falcon.

“No other prints?” said Jonah.

“Not one.”

“Careless,” said Jonah. “I don’t mean dropping the packet. That’s easy enough. But leaving your prints on a thing that you might so easily drop. And otherwise he was so careful.”

“That’s very true. But I fancy he made the prints when he purchased the packet in France.”

“Probably. What did he look like?”

“Nondescript,” said Falcon. He took his note-case out. “There’s his passport photograph – the only one we can raise. He would never be photographed, because of his eye. Neither dark nor fair. Well-covered. Height five feet ten. But you can’t get away from the eye-shade. That stamps a man. I don’t think the French are trying – and that’s the truth.”

“Looks more than likely,” said Jonah, handing the photograph back. “But what a queer case.”

Falcon looked at him very hard.

“What d’you mean by that, Captain Mansel?”

“In the first place, vengeance cools. Well, it didn’t cool here. It stayed hot – for, say, seven months. In the second place, the timing was perfect: the whole crime might have been rehearsed. Thirdly, the murderer leaves you in no doubt as to who committed the crime – eye-shade, passport and keys are simply presented to you. His one card is disappearance – the poorest card in the pack.”

“I entirely agree,” said Falcon. “It’s worried me quite a lot. But everything points to him, and there’s nobody else. I looked very hard at Shapely. He had a motive worth having for rubbing Sir Steuart out. But his alibi’s copper-bottomed. His passport shows that he wasn’t in England this year until June 14th. And the murder was done on the 8th. I can’t believe he was dropped. And who took him away? And Captain Pleydell saw him at Lally on June 9th.”

“That’s right,” said Jonah, slowly. “Shapely couldn’t have done it; and Tass undoubtedly did. I do hope you get him, Falcon. It was a wicked show.”

We all went to Luz Ortigue the following day.

As the Andret slid out of Cluny, I saw the Rolls ahead pull into the side of the road. Then one of its doors was opened and Falcon got out.

As we drew abreast—

“I’m being a nuisance,” he said. “At Mrs Pleydell’s suggestion. She’s very kind. You see, I didn’t know that there was a Custom House here. Shapely said nothing about it. And I saw them take our number. That suggests records of some sort, and I’ve got a letter here.”

I berthed the Andret forthwith and followed Jonah and Falcon back to the Custom House.

Falcon’s letter worked wonders. When the Custom Officers saw it, they were most deeply impressed.

“We are at your disposal, Monsieur. Pray ask us what questions you please.”

“I saw that you took the number of our car. Do you keep a record of every car that goes by?”

“But certainly, sir. And of the passengers.”

“What exactly is your procedure?”

“As Monsieur may know, the frontier is eighteen miles off: but, since the frontier is bleak, this little village is used as the frontier-post. It is the same in Spain, on the opposite side. Very well. Between this post and the frontier are many beauty spots, which tourists delight to visit, without going into Spain. And so we have three classes of passers-by – those who are making for Spain; those who are going for a picnic and mean to return the same day; and those who mean to camp in the mountains for several days. The first, of course, we deal with in the regular way. We accept the word of the second that they will return the same day – but we note the number of the car and the number of passengers: and if they do not return, the guards go out. Of the third we demand their passports: these are not stamped, but are kept here against their return.”

“And the car and the passengers are noted?”