The Willows at Christmas (17 page)

“I believe he has,” said Mrs Ffleshe. “He was convicted of stealing motor-cars.”

Lord Malice sighed with pleasure and then raised his arms in a weary way as if to say there was little point in any further questioning.

“It is all up with him,” he pronounced solemnly. “I suppose his extraordinary behaviour today could be offered as evidence of an unsound mind in any plea of mitigation, though I believe I might offer a robust defence of the position that he was merely indulging in a foolish act of winter bathing. Then again, the fact is, Mrs Ffleshe, that you have been harbouring a criminal in this house, but I think a sensible judge would not take you to task for that, for you did it from kindly motives, born of pity and ignorance of what he was and is, did you not?”

“I did,” said Mrs Ffleshe, attempting to summon up a tear or two more but this time failing. “Out of kindness I did it, and in latter years he has forced me to care for him much against my wishes, and been cruel to me.

“Then I believe we should discuss what we should do over pudding — for I presume that a plum pudding is in the offing, it being Christmas Day. As a Law Lord Emeritus, it is my duty to aid society’s victims, of which you are one, so naturally I shall represent you.

It was Mrs Ffleshe’s turn to sigh.

“However, as protector of one you now know to be a criminal infernal, if I may use the correct legal phrase, it is
your
duty to turn him over to the law;” he continued. “We have present here two gentlemen related to the fraternity of police commissioners who can be sworn in at once and can arrest him. We also have at least one lady, so far silent, who is I believe a bishop’s wife, and maybe more, whose moral views can therefore be taken as unimpeachable, though it might be prudent at this juncture to ascertain what they are.”

Lord Malice turned to the youngest of the bishops’ widows.

“Madam,” said he, “how do you think we should act in the best interest of the soul of this soul-less defendant?”

“What I have heard of him is quite scandalous!” cried the bishop’s widow “And I believe he should be given a fair trial and condemned, and as soon as possible.”

By now the mood of the luncheon party had changed for the better, for there is nothing more enjoyable in a group of people than to find a common enemy.

A lively discussion ensued as the plum pudding was served, and then brandies and cigars — a discussion at which, though in normal circumstances they would have retired that the men might smoke, the ladies were invited to stay, and contribute, which all did forcibly.

“To sum up,” said Lord Malice later, “the verdict of this jury is that he is guilty till proved even more guilty and that it would be a pity if his case were to be allowed to clog up the courts for years, during which time he would continue to live at the cost of the taxpayer. We therefore seek justice that is fair but swift and summary, and in that matter I have a suggestion to make.”

“Please, My Lord,” said Mrs Ffleshe, whose delight at having Lord Mallice to lunch had developed first into pleasure and then adoration, an emotion he appeared to return, “will you accept some more brandy before you make that suggestion?”

“From your fair hand, madam, I would accept a glass of water and believe it to be brandy,” said he gallantly, for rarely had he found so eloquent and satisfactory a witness as his hostess.

“O My Lord!” she sighed. “This truly is a Happy Christmas.”

“So,” said Lord Malice, gathering his wits once more, “I believe there are grounds to arrest this gentleman at once and have him in court on the morrow, and swinging on the gallows the day following, if such is to be his punishment, in time for us all to return to tea and scones, even allowing for his appeal, which will be dismissed on my personal recommendation.

“I am certain this can be achieved because I took the liberty on my way here today of calling in at the Village to affirm a curious historic fact of which I had read, namely, that no Act of Parliament was ever passed repealing the rights of the Lordship of this parish to try its own cases, and mete out its own justice.

“Indeed, there still remains a working gaol where the criminal can be safely held, a court house where he can be fairly tried, a dungeon that holds implements of persuasion which may be reasonably used to extract the truth and thus save much time in cross-examination, and a method of punishment that is as final as they come, namely hanging, drawing and quartering.

“Around this very table we have all the officials we need to arrest the suspect, stand witness to his crimes, act as prosecutor and judge and finally, if one of the widows of the late bishops here will agree, to offer spiritual support to the accused, hear his confession and administer last rites.

“To complete matters, and make them entirely legal, we have a Parish Clerk in the Village who has satisfied me that he is ready, eager and able to make the correct entries in the trial, punishment and mortality rolls —though my conversation with him earlier today was purely hypothetical. I little imagined that I would encounter such a hardened criminal upon whom I might try out this local justice. I have rarely met a Clerk so very eager to do this work and if he is willing to do it over the Christmas recess then I have little doubt that I can secure for him a knighthood.

“Now; may I suggest we toast our good fortune that the spirit of Christmas should have put so interesting and wholesome a case our way? After that we must act quickly and arrest the criminal Toad.”

“Sir,” said Mrs Ffleshe, “I should warn you that he has a gang of low-class fellows in his employ of whom we should be wary — a threat to their leader might lead them to extreme actions.”

“‘Who are they?” said Malice in a grim voice.

“The first, and strongest, is Badger, an idle woodsman. His friend is a water rat known locally as Ratty — he is a waterman of the cunning sort and not to be trusted. Otter is an idle fellow with a son who to my knowledge has no mother, so you can imagine what class of person he is. O yes, sir! That is the low sort they are! And, finally, there is one who calls himself Mr Mole of Mole End. He puts on a respectable front, which causes me to think he may be more dangerous and corrupt than the rest of them put together!”

“Then we need reinforcements before we attempt to make an arrest,” said Lord Malice. “Can we summon some help from the Village perhaps?”

“I can do better than that,” said Mrs Ffleshe.

“Madam, you are a woman of infinite resource,” cried Lord Malice with passion, involuntarily taking her hand in his own.

“The Villagers are a knock-kneed lot,” said she, entwining her fingers in his. “However, those who live in the Wild Wood, namely the weasels and stoats, have been harshly treated by Toad’s gang in the recent past, from what I hear. I shall send a message out to them and I believe we shall soon have all the help we need.”

“Let it be so!” said Lord Mallice delightedly, most reluctantly releasing her hand. “Let it be so!”

Toad and his friends had debated the question of arresting Mrs Ffleshe long and hard, and all but the Mole preferred this course of action. For though the impetus for that idea had come from him, he had had second thoughts, pointing out that Christmas Day was a time for peace, charity and goodwill and perhaps if they all spoke to Mrs Ffleshe nicely…

The others, particularly the practical Water Rat, were unconvinced.

“Give such an enemy half a chance and they attack first, eh Otter?”

Otter nodded.

“Well, at least we could go to the Village and talk to the Parish Clerk again,” said the Mole.

“We might,” said the Badger, who was standing by the window, “but see how the day is already growing dark and if I am not mistaken a great deal colder — and —good heavens!”

His sudden alarm brought silence, and his whispered command to blow out the candles was instantly obeyed.

“What is it, Badger?”

“Look! There, in the shadows.
There!”

They looked and saw: weasels and stoats, a good many of them.

“And over there! I can scarcely believe it!”

Making his way to the Hall’s front door, bold as brass, was the Chief Weasel, an unpleasant character known to them all, and at his side several hench-stoats.

No sooner did he knock at the front door than Toad’s bedroom door opened and in hurried Miss Bugle in some distress.

“Mr Toad, sir, it’s the weasels and stoats. They’ve surrounded the house and now the gentlemen who came to luncheon are coming up the stairs with a warrant for your arrest. Fly, sir, fly!”

“Badger and I will delay ‘em,” cried the Rat even as they heard the sounds of heavy, determined footsteps on the main stairs. “Otter and Mole, you’d better get Toad out of the Hall to safety as fast as you can!”

“But — but I’m still in my nightshirt,” spluttered Toad, and I haven’t finished my champagne —”No time for that!” said the Mole with determination, grabbing his dressing gown and hurrying him to the bedroom door. “Miss Bugle, lead the way!”

It was not a moment to argue, or dawdle. As the Rat and the Badger took up their stations at the top of the stairs to confront the arresting officers, Mole and Toad followed Miss Bugle to the back stairs, with the Otter taking up their rear.

What instinct was it that told the fugitives that a posse of weasels and stoats awaited them on the cobbles outside the kitchen door? Whatever its name, it prompted them to change their plans swiftly. They stopped short of opening the door, and Toad and Mole crept inside the coal cellar — which Mole knew all too well — and allowed Miss Bugle to shut and bolt the door upon them.

While Otter and Miss Bugle hurried back to help Rat and Badger, Mole and Toad stood in silence, with lumps of anthracite in their hands as weapons in case they had to make a fight of it, as they listened to the search parties running back and forth above their heads, and up and down the Hall stairs.

They were not discovered, and when dusk fell outside they did not wait for Miss Bugle to risk her own safety by releasing them, but put into operation a plan that the Mole had considered when he had been confined in this same place, but which he could not act upon for lack of a helper.

“Toad,” he commanded firmly, for Toad was shivering with fear as well as cold, “kneel down so that I can climb on to your back.”

In other circumstances he would have done this service for Toad, and let his host raise the coal—hole cover and climb out first, but the sad truth was that he did not trust him. He rather fancied that once Toad sniffed the freedom of the fresh air above he would do a bunk and leave Mole behind, just as he had before.

Toad whinged and whined but the Mole would have none of it.

“Kneel down, Toad,” he whispered urgently, “or I shall call for help and turn you over to the law!”

This did the trick, and soon the Mole was on Toad’s back, pushing at the heavy cover above his head before finally puffing himself to freedom.

There were some horse harnesses hanging from a nail nearby and these he attached to a post and dropped down to Toad so that he could clamber up. Then they scampered across the drive and crept beneath a hedge till it got dark, shaking and shivering with cold.

Several times patrols of weasels and stoats went by, and once a brace of policemen. Then, when the coast seemed clear, they crawled right under the hedge, across the lane, into the field beyond and crept by starlight down towards the River.

Their plan was to make their way to the bridge and, if they could cross it undetected, to try to reach the safety of Otter’s house, for they were sure that a search party would have been sent to Mole End.

That the Mole should thus find himself a fugitive from the law with Toad was not, in truth, something he had expected upon Christmas Day. Yet, he reflected, since that fateful first meeting with Ratty two years before, he had found himself in a great many situations that his humdrum life till then could not have led him to expect. He trusted he might in time look back on this particular adventure with a degree of equanimity, but for the moment —
”What’s that?”

Toad suddenly clutched his arm, indicating that he had heard something coming through the reeds towards them.