Berry And Co. (30 page)

As we came up—

“That you, Boy?” cried Daphne. “Here’s a waggoner who thinks he saw Nobby being taken away.”

A little knot of men parted, and Jill and I thrust our way forward.

“Oi wouldden be sure,” said a deep rough voice, “but a was a lil white chap of a dog on en’ of a string. ‘Twas a grume, simly, a-leadin’ ’im Brooch way. An’ a didn’t want for to go, neither, for a stook toes in, a did, an’ collar was ’alf-way over ’ead. Just come forth from
The Three Bulls
, Oi ’ad, oop yonder o’ Bear Lane, an’ the toime were nigh three o’ the aafternoon.”

We questioned him closely, but he could tell us no more.

Slight as the clue was, it was infinitely better than none at all. If it was indeed Nobby that the waggoner had seen, the thief was taking him out of the village, at least in the direction of White Ladies. This was encouraging. That any one making for the railway station would take the same road was a less pleasant reflection.

I took our informant’s name and address and those of the crier who had brought him to the car. Then we dispensed some silver, and left for home.

Of Adèle’s necklace we had heard nothing.

We determined to concentrate upon the recovery of the pearls upon the following day.

All through a wretched night the pitiful vacancy at the foot of my bed reminded me brutally of my loss. My poor little dog – where was he passing these dark hours? How many more must drag their way along before the warm white ball lay curled again in the crook of my knees? Had he rested there for the last time? With a groan I thrust the thought from me, but always it returned, leering hideously. Miserably I recited his qualities – his love for me, his mettle, his beauty, his unfailing good humour… What naughtiness there was in him seemed very precious. Painfully I remembered his thousand pretty ways. He had a trick of waving his little paws, when he was tired of begging…

Small wonder that I slept ill and fitfully.

Early as I was, the others were already at breakfast when I came down. Only Adèle had not appeared.

It was a melancholy meal.

Jonah said not a word, and Berry hardly opened his mouth. There were dark rings under Jill’s grey eyes, and Daphne looked pale and tired.

A communication from the Secretary of the Brooch Dog Show, enclosing a pass for the following day, and informing me that my Sealyham must arrive at the Show in the charge of not more than one attendant by 11 a.m., did not tend to revive our drooping spirits.

We had nearly finished, when, with a glance at the clock, my sister set her foot upon the bell.

As the butler entered the room—

“Send up and see if Miss Feste will breakfast upstairs, Falcon. I think—”

“Miss Feste has breakfasted, madam.”

“Already?”

“Yes, madam. Her breakfast was taken to her before eight o’clock.”

“Where is she?”

“I think she’s out bicycling, madam.”

“Bicycling?”

The inquiry leapt from five mouths simultaneously.

“Yes, madam. She sent for me and asked if I could find ’er a lady’s bicycle, an’ Greenaway was very ’appy to lend ’er ’ers, madam. An’ Fitch pumped up the tyres, an’ she went off about ’alf-past eight, madam.”

We stared at one another in bewilderment.

“Did she say where she was going?” said Berry.

“No, sir.”

“All right, Falcon.”

The butler bowed and withdrew.

Amid the chorus of astonished exclamation, Berry held up his hand.

“It’s very simple,” he said. “She’s unhinged.”

“Rubbish,” said his wife.

“The disappearance of Nobby, followed by the loss of her necklace, has preyed upon her mind. Regardless alike of my feelings and of the canons of good taste, she rises at an hour which is almost blasphemous and goes forth unreasonably to indulge in the most hellish form of exercise ever invented. What further evidence do we need? By this time she has probably detached the lamp from the velocipede and is walking about, saying she’s Florence Nightingale.”

“Idiot,” said Daphne.

“Not yet,” said her husband, “but I can feel it coming on.” He cast an eye downward and shivered.

“I feared as much. My left leg is all unbuttoned.”

“For goodness’ sake,” said his wife, “don’t sit there drivelling—”

“Sorry,” said Berry, “but I haven’t got a clean bib left. This laundry strike—”

“I said ‘drivelling,’ not ‘dribbling.’ You know I did. And what are we wasting time for? Let’s do something – anything.”

“Right-oh,” said her husband. “What about giving the bread some birds?” And with that he picked up a loaf and deliberately pitched it out of the window on to the terrace.

The fact that the casement was not open until after the cast, made his behaviour the more outrageous.

The very wantonness of the act, however, had the excellent effect of breaking the spell of melancholy under which we were labouring.

In a moment all was confusion.

Jill burst into shrieks of laughter; Jonah, who had been immersed in
The Times
, cursed his cousin for the shock to his nerves; in a shaking voice Daphne assured the butler, whom the crash had brought running, that it was “All right, Falcon; Major Pleydell thought the window was open”; and the delinquent himself was loudly clamouring to be told whether he had won the slop-pail outright or had only got to keep it clean for one year.

Twenty minutes later Jonah had left for Brooch to see the Chief Constable about the missing jewels and arrange for the printing and distribution of an advertisement for Nobby. The rest of us, doing our utmost to garnish a forlorn hope with the seasoning of expectation, made diligent search for the necklace about the terrace, gardens and tennis-lawn. After a fruitless two hours we repaired to the house, where we probed the depths of sofas and chairs, emptied umbrella-stands, settles, flower-bowls and every other receptacle over which our guest might have leaned, and finally thrust an electric torch into the bowels of the piano and subjected that instrument to a thorough examination.

At length—

“I give it up,” said Daphne, sinking into a chair. “I don’t think it can be here.”

“Nor I,” said I. “I think we’ve looked everywhere.”

“Yes,” said Berry. “There’s only the cesspool left. We can drag that before lunch, if you like, but I should prefer one more full meal before I die.”

“Boy! Boy!”

Somewhere from behind closed doors a sweet excited voice was calling.

I sprang to the door.

“Yes, Adèle, yes?” I shouted.

A moment later my lady sped down a passage and into the hall.

“Get the car quick. I’ve found Nobby.”

“Where?” we yelled.

“That man Bason’s got him.”

Her announcement momentarily deprived us of breath. Then we all started, and in the next two minutes sufficient was said about the retired music-hall proprietor to make that gentleman’s pendulous ears burst into blue flame.

Again want of breath intervened, and Adèle besought us to make ready the car.

We explained vociferously that Jonah had taken the Rolls and would be back any minute. Whilst we were waiting, would she not tell us her tale?

Seating herself upon the arm of a chair, she complied forthwith.

“None of you seemed to suspect him, and, as I’m usually wrong, I decided to say nothing. But last night I asked a Boy Scout where he lived. Curiously enough, the boy had a brother who was a gardener in Bason’s employ. That made me think. I asked him whether I could have a word with his brother, and he told me he lived at a cottage close to his work, and was almost always at home between nine and half-past in the morning.

“When he came home this morning, I was waiting for him. He seemed a nice man, so I told him the truth and asked him to help me. Thorn – that’s his name – doesn’t like Bason a bit, and at once agreed that he was quite capable of the dirtiest work, if any one got in his way. He hadn’t, he said, seen Nobby, but that wasn’t surprising. If the dog was there he’d probably be in the stables, and with those Thorn has nothing to do.

“Bason doesn’t keep horses, but he uses one of the coach-houses as a garage. The chauffeur seems to be rather worse than his master. He’s loathed by the rest of the staff, and, while he and Bason are as thick as thieves, neither trusts the other an inch.

“The first thing to do, obviously, was to find out if Nobby was there. Everything was always kept locked, so I determined to try the ‘Blondel’ stunt – yes, I know a lot of English History – and try and make Coeur de Lion speak for himself.

“First we synchronized our watches. Then Thorn showed me the house and told me exactly where the garage and stables were – close to the gates, happily. Then we arranged that in ten minutes’ time he should try to get the chauffeur out of the way, while I took a look round. More than that we couldn’t fix, but it was understood that, if there was a dog there and Thorn got an opening, he was to undo his collar and give him a chance to make good on his own. That wouldn’t involve Thorn, for he could fasten the collar again and make it look as if Nobby had slipped it.”

“But what a brain!” said Berry. “One short month of my society, and the girl—”

An avalanche of protest cut short the speaker.

Adèle continued, gurgling.

“At first everything went all right. At twenty minutes to ten I put my head round the corner to see the chauffeur and Thorn disappearing at the other end of the yard. I stepped out of my cover and had a look round. There were stables on one side, and a coach house and garage on the other, and the yard, which was open at both ends, lay in between. I was just going to try the loose-boxes – I was going to ‘miaow’ like a cat and see what answer I got – when I heard Bason’s voice calling Banana…

“There was only one door open, and that was the garage. I dashed for it and looked round for somewhere to hide. The place was as bare as your hand. But there was nothing the matter with the limousine, so I got inside and sat down on the floor.

“I was only just in time.

“Bason came stamping into the yard, shouting for ‘Arthur,’ and the next moment Nobby gave tongue.

“I just had to look.

“There was Blue Banana with his nose to the door of the loose-box immediately opposite, snarling and showing his teeth, Bason was hammering on the door, yelling ‘Shut up, you brute!’ and Nobby, of course, was barking to beat the band.”

As she spoke, a faint familiar cough from the drive announced the return of Jonah from Brooch.

In less time than it takes to record, I had flown to the front-door and put him wise. Two minutes later we were all in the Rolls, which was scudding at an unlawful speed along the Fallow Hill road.

“There’s nothing much more to tell,” said Adèle, as we clamoured for her to proceed. “I thought Bason would never go, and, when at last he did, the chauffeur took the opportunity of changing the two front tyres.

“For over two hours I sat in that car. At last the man shut the place up and, I suppose, went to his dinner.

“I had meant to borrow the limousine, but he’d taken the key of the switch, so I couldn’t do that. And I couldn’t get at Nobby, for the stable was locked. So I just pelted back to Thorn’s cottage, told his wife to tell him my news, picked up the bicycle and came right back.”

For a moment no one said anything. Then—

“I shall recommend you,” said Berry, “for the Most Excellent Order of the Beer Engine. A very coveted distinction. The membership is limited to seven million.”

“Yes,” said I, “for a most daring reconnaissance behind the enemy’s lines. You know, this ranks with the penetration of the Kiel Canal. Seriously, Adèle, I’m terribly grateful.”

My lady looked at me with a shy smile.

“What did the gipsy say?” she said. “After all, I’m only obeying orders. And now—”

A cry from Jonah interrupted her, and the rest of us started inquiringly as he clapped on the brakes.

As the car came to a standstill—

“What’s the matter?” I cried.

By way of answer my cousin took off his hat and, producing a silk handkerchief, deliberately wiped his forehead with the utmost care. Then he replaced his hat and looked up and over his right shoulder…

From the top of a mossy bank by the side of the road Nobby was regarding us wide-eyed. Apparently he had broken prison and was on his way home. Time was nothing to him, and the roots of a wayside beech upon an attractive rise cried aloud for inspection. Besides, there was a serious loss of liberty which had to be made good…

For a moment rescue-party and prize looked one another in the face. Then the latter hurled himself panting into the road and leapt into the arms which I stretched out of the car.

No prodigal ever received such an ovation. There was literally a fight for his person. Jill snatched him from me and pressed his nose to her face; Berry dragged him from her protesting arms and set him upon his knee; Daphne tore him away and hugged him close. Such of us as were temporarily disseized, stroked and fondled his limbs and cried endearing epithets. Only our fair American looked on with a wistful smile.

“So, you see,” she said, “he’s done without me, after all.”

I took hold of her hand.

“My dear,” I said, “your argument would be more forcible if he was wearing a collar.”

There was a buzz of excitement as my statement was feverishly confirmed.

“I agree,” said Berry. “What’s more, he’s brought us a souvenir”

As he spoke, he plucked something which was adhering to the terrier’s beard.

It was a tuft of slate-grey hair.

The “All Comers” Event was won by Nobby, who beat a French bulldog by a short head.

Neither Blue Bandala nor his owner put in an appearance. For this a particularly curt note, bluntly requiring the return of the Sealyham’s collar, may have been responsible.

The waggoner and the lad who found him received their rewards.

So also did Thorn. His letter of acknowledgment was addressed to Adèle.

DEAR MADAM,

Thank you kindly for the 5 lbs. I got to the dog by way of the ayloft which were in one of the stalls I undone is coller and here he run out the first dore as was open and appening on Blew Bandarlerer did not harf put it acrost him and Mr Bason says I command you to seperate them dogs Arthur he says and Arthur fetches Blew B one what he ment for your dog and Mr Bason fetches him another what he ment for Arthur so the chough cort it proper.