Dornford Yates - Berry And Co.

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"Then I sent for Falcon, explained things, and told him to look after
the man this evening, and that I was making arrangements for him to stay
with Fitch over the garage. Then I had Mrs. Chapel up."

"That, I take it," said Berry, "is the nymph lately responsible for the
preparation of our food?"

Daphne nodded.

"I told her about Francois, and that, as he was here, he would help her
with dinner to-night. I said he was very clever, and all that sort of
thing, and that I wanted her to show him what she was cooking, and
listen to any suggestions he had to make."

"I suppose you added that he couldn't speak a word of English," said her
husband.

"Be quiet," said Daphne. "Besides, he can. Several words. Any way, she
didn't seem over-pleased, but, as Pauline's coming on Monday, that
didn't worry me. So I sent her away, and rang up Fitch and told him he
must fix the Frenchman up for the night."

"Did he seem over-pleased?"

"I didn't wait to hear. I just rang off quick. Then I went up to dress.
The next thing I knew was that they'd tried to murder each other, and
that Camille had bitten William, and Nobby'd bitten Camille. I don't
suppose we shall ever know exactly what happened."

So far as we had been able to gather from the butler, who had
immediately repaired to Daphne's room for instructions, and was
labouring under great excitement, my sister's orders had been but
grudgingly obeyed. Mrs. Chapel had been ill-tempered and obstructive,
and had made no attempt to disguise her suspicion of the _chef_. The
latter had consequently determined to be as nasty as the circumstances
allowed, had eyed her preparations for dinner with a marked contempt,
and had communed visibly and audibly with himself in a manner which it
was impossible to mistake. Finally he had desired to taste the soup
which she was cooking. Poor as his English was, his meaning was
apparent, but the charwoman had affected an utter inability to
understand what he said. This had so much incensed the Frenchman that
the other servants had intervened and insisted on Mrs. Chapel's
compliance with his request. With an ill grace she snatched the lid from
the saucepan....

Everything was now in train for a frightful explosion. In bitterness the
fuse had been laid, the charge of passion was tamped, the detonator of
spleen was in position. Only a match was necessary....

Camille Francois, however, preferred to employ a torch.

After allowing the fluid to cool, the Frenchman--by this time the
cynosure of sixteen vigilant eyes--introduced a teaspoonful into his
mouth....

The most sanguine member of his audience was hardly expecting him to
commend the beverage. Mrs. Chapel herself must have felt instinctively
that no man born of woman would in the circumstances renounce such a
magnificent opportunity of "getting back." Nobody, however, was
apparently prepared for so vigorous and dramatic an appreciation of the
dainty.

For the space of two seconds the _chef_ held it cupped in his mouth.
Then with an expression of deadly loathing, intensified by a horrible
squint, he expelled the liquid on to the kitchen floor. Ignoring the
gasp which greeted his action, he was observed to shrug his shoulders.

"I veep my eyes," he announced, "for ze pore pig."

Here the steady flood of the butler's narrative became excusably broken
into the incoherence of rapids and the decent reticence of disappearing
falls. Beyond the fact that Mrs. Chapel had swung twice to the jaw, and
that Camille had replied with an ineffectual kick before they were
dragged screaming apart, few details of the state of pandemonium that
ensued came to our ears. I imagine that a striking _tableau vivant_
somewhat on the lines of Meissonier's famous painting was unconsciously
improvised. That three maids hardly restrained Mrs. Chapel, that the
footman who sought to withhold Camille was bitten for his pains by the
now ravening Frenchman, that the latter was only saved from the
commission of a still more aggravated assault by the timely arrival of
the butler, that Nobby, attracted by the uproar, contributed to the
confusion first by barking like a demoniac and then by inflicting a
punctured wound upon the calf of the alien's leg, we learned more by
inference and deduction than by direct report. That our impending meal
would be more than usually unappetizing was never suggested. That was
surmise upon our part, pure and simple. The conviction, however, was so
strong that the repast was cancelled out of hand.

Mrs. Chapel was dismissed and straitly charged never to return. Camille
was placed in the custody of the chauffeur and escorted to the latter's
rooms above the garage, to be returned to France upon the following
morning. Nobby was commended for his discrimination. Jonah was reviled.

All this, however, took time. The respective dismissal and disposal of
the combatants were not completed until long past eight, and it was
almost nine before we sat down to dinner.

"I think," said Daphne faintly, "I should like some champagne."

Berry ordered the wine.

It was abnormally hot, and the doors that were usually closed were set
wide open.

From the street faint snatches of a vibrant soprano came knocking at our
tired ears.

Mechanically we listened.

"_When you come to the end of a perfect day...."_

Berry turned to me.

"They must have seen us come in," he said.

* * * * *

It was with a grateful heart that I telegraphed the first thing on
Saturday morning to Mrs. Hamilton Smythe of Fair Lawns, Torquay, asking
_pro forma,_ whether Pauline Roper, now in her service, was sober,
honest and generally to be recommended to be engaged as cook.

As she had been for six years with the lady, and was only leaving
because the latter was quitting England to join her husband in Ceylon,
it was improbable that the reference would be unflattering. Moreover,
Daphne had taken to her at once. Well-mannered, quiet, decently attired
and respectful, she was obviously a long way superior to the ordinary
maid. Indeed, she had admitted that her father, now dead, had been a
clergyman, and that she should have endeavoured to obtain a position as
governess if, as a child, she had received anything better than the
rudest education. She had, she added, been receiving fifty pounds a
year. Hesitatingly she had inquired whether, since the employment was
only temporary, we should consider an increase of ten pounds a year
unreasonable.

"Altogether," concluded my sister, "a thoroughly nice-feeling woman. I
offered her lunch, but she said she was anxious to try and see her
sister before she caught her train back, so she didn't have any. I
almost forgot to give her her fare, poor girl. In fact, she had to
remind me. She apologized very humbly, but said the journey to London
was so terribly expensive that she simply couldn't afford to let it
stand over."

We had lunched at Ranelagh, and were sitting in a quiet corner of the
pleasant grounds, taking our ease after the alarms and excursions of the
day before.

Later on we made our way to the polo-ground.

Almost the first person we saw was Katharine Festival.

"Hurray," said Daphne. "I meant to have rung her up last night, but what
with the Camille episode and dining out I forgot all about it. When I
tell her we're suited, she'll be green with envy."

Her unsuspecting victim advanced beaming. Being of the opposite sex, I
felt sorry for her.

"Daphne, my dear," she announced, "I meant to have rung you up last
night. I've got a cook."

The pendulum of my emotions described the best part of a semicircle, and
I felt sorry for Daphne.

"I am glad," said my sister, with an audacity which took my breath away.
"How splendid! So've we."

"Hurray," said Katharine, with a sincerity which would have deceived a
diplomat. "Don't you feel quite strange? I can hardly believe it's
really happened. Mine rejoices in the name of Pauline," she added.

I started violently, and Berry's jaw dropped.

"_Pauline?_" cried Daphne and Jill.

"Yes," said Katharine. "It's a queer name for a cook, but----What's the
matter?"

"But so's ours! Ours is Pauline! What's her other name?"

"Roper," cried Katharine breathlessly.

"Not from Torquay?"--in a choking voice.

Katharine nodded and put a trembling handkerchief to her lips.

"I paid her fare," she said faintly. "It came to----"

"Two pounds nine and four pence halfpenny," said my sister. "I gave her
two pounds ten."

"So did I," said Katharine. "She was to come on--on Monday."

"Six years in her last place?" said Daphne shakily

"Yes. And a clergyman's daughter," wailed Katharine.

"Did--did you take up her reference?"

"Wired last night," was the reply.

In silence I brought two chairs, and they sat down.

"But--but," stammered Jill, "she spoke from Torquay on Wednesday."

"Did she?" said Berry. "I wonder."

"Yes," said Katharine. "She did."

"You know she did," said Daphne and Jill.

"Who," said I, "answered the telephone?"

"My parlourmaid did," said Katharine.

"And Jill answered ours," said I. Then I turned to my cousin. "When you
took off the receiver," I asked, "what did you hear?"

"I remember perfectly," said Jill. "Exchange asked if we were Mayfair
9999 and then said, 'You're through to a call-office.' Then Pauline
spoke."

"Precisely," said I. "But not from Torquay. In that case Exchange would
have said, 'Torquay wants you,' or 'Exeter,' or something. Our Pauline
rang up from London. She took a risk and got away with it."

"I feel dazed," said Daphne, putting a hand to her head. "There must be
some mistake. I can't believe----"

"'A thoroughly nice-feeling woman,'" said Berry. "I think I should feel
nice if I could make five pounds in two hours by sitting on the edge of
a chair and saying I was a clergyman's daughter. And now what are we
going to do? Shall we be funny and inform the police? Or try and stop
Camille at Amiens?"

"Now, don't you start," said his wife, "because I can't bear it. Jonah,
for goodness' sake, get hold of the car, and let's go."

"Yes," said Berry. "And look sharp about it. Time's getting on, and I
should just hate to be late for dinner. Or shall we be reckless and take
a table at Lockhart's?"

We drove home in a state of profound melancholy.

Awaiting our arrival was a "service" communication upon a buff sheet,
bluntly addressed to "Pleydell."

It was the official death-warrant of an unworthy trust.

_Sir,_

_I beg leave to inform you that your telegram handed in at the Grosvenor
Street Post Office at 10.2 a.m. on the 26th June addressed to Reply paid
Hamilton Smythe Fair Lawns Torquay has not been delivered for the reason
indicated below._

_ADDRESS NOT KNOWN._

_I am, Sir,_

_Your obedient Servant,_

_W.B.,_

_Postmaster._

CHAPTER VIII

HOW JILL SLEPT UNDISTURBED, AND NOBBY ATTENDED CHURCH PARADE.

"What d'you do," said Berry, "when you want to remember something?"

"Change my rings," said Daphne. "Why?"

"I only wondered. D'you find that infallible?"

My sister nodded.

"Absolutely," she said. "Of course, I don't always remember what I've
changed them for, but it shows me there's something I've forgotten."

"I see. Then you've only got to remember what that is, and there you
are. Why don't I wear rings?"

"Change your shoes instead," said I drowsily. "Or wear your waistcoat
next to your skin. Then, whenever you want to look at your watch, you'll
have to undress. That'll make you think."

"You go and change your face," said Berry. "Don't wait for something to
remember. Just go and do it by deed-poll. And then advertise it in _The
Times_. You'll get so many letters of gratitude that you'll get tired of
answering them."

Before I could reply to this insult--

"I suppose," said my sister, "this means that you can't remember
something which concerns me and really matters."

In guilty silence her husband prepared a cigar for ignition with the
utmost care. At length--

"I wouldn't go as far as that," he said. "But I confess that at the back
of my mind, in, as it were, the upper reaches of my memory, there is a
faint ripple of suggestion for which I cannot satisfactorily account.
Now, isn't that beautifully put?"

With a look of contempt, Daphne returned to the digestion of a letter
which she had that morning received from the United States. Reflectively
Berry struck a match and lighted his cigar. I followed the example of
Jill and began to doze.

With the exception of Jonah, who was in Somerset with the Fairies, we
had been to Goodwood. I had driven the car both ways and was healthily
tired, but the long ride had rendered us all weary, and the prospect of
a full night and a quiet morrow was good to contemplate.

On the following Tuesday we were going out of Town. Of this we were all
unfeignedly glad, for London was growing stale. The leaves upon her
trees were blown and dingy, odd pieces of paper crept here and there
into her parks, the dust was paramount. What sultry air there was seemed
to be second-hand. Out of the pounding traffic the pungent reek of oil
and fiery metal rose up oppressive. Paint three months old was seamed
and freckled. Look where you would, the silver sheen of Spring was dull
and tarnished, the very stones were shabby, and in the summer sunshine
even proud buildings of the smartest streets wore but a jaded look and
lost their dignity. The vanity of bricks stood out in bold relief
unsightly, dressing the gentle argument of Nature with such authority as
set tired senses craving the airs and graces of the countryside and
mourning the traditions of the children of men.

"Adele," said Daphne suddenly, "is sailing next week."

"Hurray," said Jill, waking up.

"Liverpool or Southampton?" said I.

"She doesn't say. But I told her to come to Southampton."

"I expect she's got to take what she can get; only, when you're making
for Hampshire, it seems a pity to go round by the Mersey."

"I like Adele," said Berry. "She never seeks to withstand that feeling
of respect which I inspire. When with me, she recognizes that she is in
the presence of a holy sage, and, as it were, treading upon hallowed
ground. Woman," he added, looking sorrowfully upon his wife, "I could
wish that something of her piety were there to lessen your corruption.
Poor vulgar shrew, I weep----"

"She says something about you," said Daphne, turning over a sheet. "Here
you are. _Give Berry my love. If I'd been with you at Oxford, when he
got busy, I should just have died. All the same, you must admit he's a
scream. I'm longing to see Nobby. He sounds as if he were a dog of real
character...._"

"Thank you," said her husband, with emotion. "Thank you very much. 'A
scream,' I think you said. Yes. And Nobby, 'a dog of character.' I can't
bear it."

"So he is," said I. "Exceptional character."

"I admit," said Berry, "he's impartial. His worst enemy can't deny that.
His offerings at the shrine of Gluttony are just as ample as those he
lays before the altar of Sloth."

"All dogs are greedy," said Jill. "It's natural. And you'd be tired, if
you ran about like him."

"He's useful and ornamental and diverting," said I. "I don't know what
more you want."

"Useful?" said Berry, with a yawn. "Useful? Oh, you mean scavenging? But
then you discourage him so. Remember that rotten fish in Brook Street
the other day? Well, he was making a nice clean job of that, he was,
when you stopped him."

"That was a work of supererogation. I maintain, however, that nobody can
justly describe Nobby as a useless dog. For instance----"

The sudden opening of the door at once interrupted and upheld my
contention.

Into the room bustled the Sealyham, the personification of importance,
with tail up, eyes sparkling, and gripped in his large mouth the letters
which had just been delivered by the last post.

As the outburst of feminine approval subsided--

"Out of his own mouth," said I, "you stand confuted."

Either of gallantry or because her welcome was the more compelling, the
terrier made straight for my sister and pleasedly delivered his burden
into her hands. Of the three letters she selected two and then, making
much of the dog, returned a foolscap envelope to his jaws and instructed
him to bear it to Berry. Nobby received it greedily, but it was only
when he had simultaneously spun into the air, growled and, placing an
emphatic paw upon the projecting end, torn the letter half-way asunder,
that it became evident that he was regarding her return of the missive
as a _douceur_ or reward of his diligence.

With a cry my brother-in-law sprang to enlighten him; but Nobby, hailing
his action as the first move in a game of great promise, darted out of
his reach, tore round the room at express speed, and streaked into the
hall.

By dint of an immediate rush to the library door, we were just in time
to see Berry slip on the parquet and, falling heavily, miss the terrier
by what was a matter of inches, and by the time we had helped one
another upstairs, the medley of worrying and imprecations which emanated
from Daphne's bedroom made it clear that the quarry had gone to ground.

As we drew breath in the doorway--

"Get him from the other side!" yelled Berry, who was lying flat on his
face, with one arm under the bed. "Quick! It may be unsporting, but I
don't care. A-a-ah!" His voice rose to a menacing roar, as the rending
of paper became distinctly audible. "Stop it, you wicked swine! D'you
hear? _Stop it!_"

From beneath the bed a further burst of mischief answered him....

Once again feminine subtlety prevailed where the straightforward efforts
of a man were fruitless. As I flung myself down upon the opposite side
of the bed--

"Nobby," said Jill in a stage whisper, "chocolates!"

The terrier paused in his work of destruction. Then he dropped the
mangled remains of the letter and put his head on one side.

"Chocolates!"

The next second he was scrambling towards the foot of the bed....

I gathered together the _debris_ and rose to my feet.

Nobby was sitting up in front of Jill, begging irresistibly.

"What a shame!" said the latter. "And I haven't any for you. And if I
had, I mightn't give you them." She looked round appealingly. "Isn't he
cute?"

"Extraordinary how that word'll fetch him," said I. "I think his late
mistress must have----"

"I'm sure she must," said Berry, taking the ruins of his correspondence
out of my hand. "Perhaps she also taught him to collect stamps. And / or
crests. And do you mean to say you've got no chocolates for him? How
shameful! I'd better run round and knock up Gunter's. Shall I slip on a
coat, or will the parquet do?"

"There's no vice in him," I said shakily. "It was a misunderstanding."

With an awful look Berry gingerly withdrew from what remained of the
envelope some three-fifths of a dilapidated dividend warrant, which
looked as if it had been immersed in water and angrily disputed by a
number of rats.

"It's--it's all right," I said unsteadily. "The company'll give you
another."

"Give me air," said Berry weakly. "Open the wardrobe, somebody, and give
me air. You know, this is the violation of Belgium over again. The
little angel must have been the mascot of a double-breasted Jaeger
battalion in full blast." With a shaking finger he indicated the cheque.
"Bearing this in mind, which would you say he was to-night--useful or
ornamental?"

"Neither the one, nor the other," said I. "Merely diverting."

Expectantly my brother-in-law regarded the ceiling.

"I wonder what's holding it," he said. "I suppose the whitewash has
seized. And now, if you'll assist me downstairs and apply the usual
restoratives, I'll forgive you the two pounds I owe you. There's a
letter I want to write before I retire."

Half an hour later the following letter was dispatched--

_SIR,_

_The enclosed are, as a patient scrutiny will reveal, the remains of a
dividend warrant in my favour for seventy-two pounds five shillings._

_Owing to its dilapidation, which you will observe includes the total
loss of the date, signature and stamp, I am forced to the reluctant
conclusion that your bankers will show a marked disinclination to honour
what was once a valuable security._

_Its reduction to the lamentable condition in which you now see it is
due to the barbarous treatment it received at the teeth and claws of a
dog or hound which, I regret to say, has recently frequented this house
and is indubitably possessed of a malignant devil._

_In fairness to myself I must add, first, that it was through no
improvidence on my part that the domestic animal above referred to
obtained possession of the document, and, secondly, that I made such
desperate efforts to recover it intact as resulted in my sustaining a
fall of considerable violence upon one of the least resilient floors I
have ever encountered. If you do not believe me, your duly accredited
representative is at liberty to inspect the many and various contusions
upon my person any day between ten and eleven at the above address.
Yours faithfully,_

_etc._

_P.S.--My cousin-german has just read this through, and says I've left
out something. I think the fat-head is being funny, but I just mention
it, in case._

_P.P.S.--It's just occurred to me that the fool means I haven't asked
you to send me another one. But you will, won't you?_

* * * * *

For no apparent reason I was suddenly awake.

Invariably a sound sleeper, I lay for a moment pondering the phenomenon.
Then a low growl from the foot of the bed furnished one explanation only
to demand another.

I put up a groping hand and felt for the dangling switch.

For a moment I fumbled. Then from above my head a deeply-shaded lamp
flung a sudden restricted light on to the bed.

I raised myself on an elbow and looked at Nobby.

His body was still curled, with his small strong legs tucked out of
sight, but his head was raised, and he was listening intently.

I put my head on one side and did the same....

Only the hoot of a belated car faintly disturbed the silence.

I looked at my wrist-watch. This showed one minute to one. As I raised
my eyes, an impatient clock somewhere confirmed its tale.

With a yawn I conjured the terrier to go to sleep and reached for the
switch.

As I did so, he growled again.

With my fingers about the "push," I hesitated, straining my ears....

The next moment I was out of bed and fighting my way into my
dressing-gown, while Nobby, his black nose clapped to the sill of the
doorway, stood tense and rigid and motionless as death.

As I picked him up, he began to quiver, and I could feel his heart
thumping, but he seemed to appreciate the necessity for silence, and
licked my face noiselessly.

I switched off the light and opened the door.

There was a lamp burning on the landing, and I stepped directly to the
top of the stairs.

Except that there was a faint light somewhere upon the ground floor, I
could see nothing, but, as I stood peering, the sound of a stealthy
movement, followed by the low grumble of utterance, rose unmistakably to
my ears. Under my left arm Nobby stiffened notably.

For a moment I stood listening and thinking furiously....

It was plain that there was more than one visitor, for burglars do not
talk to themselves, and Discretion suggested that I should seek
assistance before descending. Jonah was out of Town, the men-servants
slept in the basement, the telephone was downstairs. Only Berry
remained.

The faint chink of metal meeting metal and a stifled laugh decided me.

With the utmost caution I stole to the door of my sister's room and
turned the handle. As I glided into the chamber--

"Who's that?" came in a startled whisper.

Before I could answer, there was a quick rustle, a switch clicked, and
there was Daphne, propped on a white arm, looking at me with wide eyes
and parted lips. Her beautiful dark hair was tumbling about her breast
and shoulders. Impatiently she brushed it clear of her face.

"What is it, Boy?"

I laid a finger upon my lips.

"There's somebody downstairs. Wake Berry."

Slowly her husband rolled on to his left side and regarded me with one
eye.

"What," he said, "is the meaning of this intrusion?"

"Don't be a fool," I whispered. "The house is being burgled."

"Gurgled?"

"Burgled, you fool."

"No such word," said Berry. "What you mean is 'burglariously rifled.'
And then you're wrong. Why, there's Nobby."

I could have stamped with vexation.

My sister took up the cudgels.

"Don't lie there," she said. "Get up and see."

"What?" said her husband.

"What's going on."

Berry swallowed before replying. Then--

"How many are there?" he demanded.

"You poisonous idiot," I hissed, "I tell you----"

"Naughty temper," said Berry. "I admit I'm in the wrong but there you
are. You see, it all comes of not wearing rings. If I did, I should have
remembered that a wire came from Jonah just before dinner--it's in my
dinner-jacket--saying he was coming up late to-night with Harry, and
that if the latter couldn't get in at the Club, he should bring him on
here. He had the decency to add 'Don't sit up.'"

Daphne and I exchanged glances of withering contempt.

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