Toad Triumphant (26 page)

Not, of course, that Toad could be immediately informed since no one knew where he was, but the constabulary were already on the alert for him and, when he was finally tracked down he could be told the good news and permitted to return home in safety, and as something of a hero.

It was Prendergast who first heard the news that all charges against Toad were to be dropped, and he hurried over to the Badger’s house to share it.

“As a matter of fact, sir, the news is both good and bad, if I may so put it. I received a telegraphic message this morning from Madame d’Albert-Chapelle the gist of which is that Mr Toad has indeed been exonerated at the highest’ levels and no charges are to be placed against him.”

“That’s a relief,” declared the Otter.

“He’ll be more conceited than ever after this,” growled the Badger. “And the bad news?”

“I think that the Madame’s message, with which I fear she had no help in its drafting from a fluent English speaker, makes things all too plain, sir,” said Prendergast, handing the message to the Badger.

He read it in silence first, his frown deepening as he did so, and then he read it aloud in its entirety.

“My cousin the eroic Monsieur Toad is chased no more and free. The governments of la France and Grande Bretagne have declared him liberated of crimes against His High Lordship.

“I, Madame d’Albert-Chapelle, have accepted his proposition of marriage. I arrive today to make arrangements for our grand wedding for 30 septembre. Be ready and be happy for your master and your new mistress.
”

The expression on Prendergast’s face betrayed nothing of the gloom he must have felt.

“Naturally sir, I cannot act in any matter except at my master’s direct instructions, but since the good lady has been a guest before I can hardly refuse her visit now. Naturally too, if it is indeed so that she and Mr Toad are officially affianced then — well — arrangements for nuptials can be addended to the plans for the Grand Opening at the end of the month with no real difficulty.”

“Is there nothing we can do?” said the Otter. “If only Ratty and Mole were here they could help us knock some sense into Toad’s silly head when he returns.”

The Badger sighed and then managed a smile.

“I dare venture that if the Madame is determined for these nuptials to take place then there is little we can do but put a brave face on it and attend the wedding and be as happy as we can for our friend. It is Prendergast here who has his work cut out. I cannot think he relishes the Madame as, as she puts it, his future mistress.”

Prendergast rose up and made for the door.

“It really is no trouble, sir, to help one such as Mr Toad for whom I have a high regard.”

“You have, haven’t you, Prendergast?”

The butler allowed himself a brief smile, just as the Badger had.

“I think I betray no confidence, sir, nor cross any boundaries of propriety when I say that in all my long years of service in many great houses I have never found a post as demanding, as challenging, and as satisfactory in every regard, as that I now enjoy with Mr Toad. He does me great honour employing me, sir; I should lay down my life for him were it necessary.”

The Badger and the Otter were both much impressed by this speech, but the Otter could not help adding, “I would be careful about talking about laying down your life, Prendergast, for Toad is capable of almost anything and might drive you to it yet.”

“Well, sir, the butler’s code is very clear on that particular point for its fifth Article makes so bold as to suggest that, ‘if the Master’s life is threatened it shall be the duty of a professional butler to offer his life first, which, if accepted, shall be repaid with an honorarium of one week’s holiday prior to said life’s cessation, if that is practical, but if not a pension of ten pounds a year for life for a named surviving relative or, failing that, a capital sum of one hundred pounds to be donated to the Retired Butlers Benevolent Fund’.”

“Most generous,” said the Otter with some irony.

“I am pleased you think so, sir,” said Prendergast with some satisfaction, “since I drafted that particular Article in the Code myself.”

The Madame appeared that same day and, as the Badger predicted, very rapidly arranged matters much as she wished. She and Prendergast maintained a working relationship at least — she effusive with her thanks and ruthless in her purpose of seeing the marriage arrangements made, he economical and noncommittal in his transactions with her, and keeping his master’s options as open as he could.

It did not help that Toad had put his proposal of marriage in writing, for there is something incontrovertible about the written word, especially when it reads,
“Sweet
Coz,
marry me how when and where you like, for I love you till the end of the earth and the moon and —”

Prendergast did not need to read the rest: the terms of his master’s proposal were self-evident, and there was precious little that he could do about it, even had he wished to.

But then, perhaps he did not, for the sincerity of the Madame’s affection seemed apparent, and so bountiful were her energies that once arrangements had been made she diverted herself by commencing work upon the statue of her lord and master to be, executing it in the privacy of a spare morning room in the north wing of the Hall.

“And what are these marriage arrangements exactly?” asked the Otter on one of his evening sojourns in the butler’s pantry.

“It would seem, sir, that the Madame has friends in high places. The Senior Bishop himself is to conduct the ceremony as part of the proceedings of the Grand Opening; indeed, they are its highlight. The Bishop has granted a special licence, and a dispensation too, so that the ceremony can take place upon the Hall’s terrace, which shall for the occasion be deemed to be hallowed ground. The High Judge shall give the Madame away and the Commissioner of Police is to be chief usher.”

“Are you sure that Toad, even if he comes back in time, will be pleased with such arrangements?”

“I hazard that my master will regard them with considerable amusement and enter into the spirit of things.”

“Humph!” said the Otter. “Things will never be the same if this goes ahead. What about your own position once the Madame is installed at the Hall?”

“Well, sir,” said Prendergast equably “I think perhaps you are not aware that I took my position here for only six months, which period ends on the last day of October, by when Mr Toad and his spouse will be back from their honeymoon. I shall then depart to an honourable retirement in Australia where I have it in mind to start a small enterprise.”

“You are a remarkable man, Prendergast,” said the Otter with admiration. “What enterprise had you in mind?”

“Exports and imports, sir,” said Prendergast cryptically. “Then all we can do is to sit and wait, and hope that Toad hears that he is no longer wanted by the law and returns home in time for his own wedding.”

“Indeed, sir.”

All of these events, for good and ill, were naturally quite unknown to the Rat as he proceeded on his journey home with Mr Brock, having left the Mole by Pike Lake in the care of Grandson.

A week or so after leaving, and having recovered the small boat from its hiding place, the Rat and Brock finally came within sight of the Hat and Boot Tavern at Lathbury. Their journey had been slow, and not entirely comfortable, for Brock was a good deal bigger than the Mole, and made an ungainly passenger.

“What we need is a bigger boat,” the Rat had said more than once with considerable feeling, “and in Lathbury we shall endeavour to find one.”

Their surprise can therefore be well imagined when, arriving at the jetty by the Tavern where they intended to moor their battered craft, they found its entire length, and all its mooring points, taken up by a craft many times the size of theirs, and a good deal more ostentatious and imposing.

While through the open door and windows of the Tavern came the sound of raucous inebriated merriment, which resolved itself into cheers, and laughter, and finally a loud rendition of “For he’s a jolly good fellow!”

“Obviously we have arrived on a festival day of some kind,” said the Rat, “and perhaps one of the participants is having a birthday and has bought a round of drinks. Let us go and see.”

As they approached the Tavern, they saw that a large group of weasels and stoats, all with brimming tankards in their hands, were clustered at the door and windows, for the place was obviously too full to accommodate them.

They therefore could not immediately see for whom the song was being sung. Only as the last motes died away did the Rat hear a braying laugh, which had a very familiar ring to it, and the cry, in a voice even more familiar, “More! Drinks for everybody are on me!”

“But it cannot be!” exclaimed the Rat, eyeing that flamboyant motor-launch.

“What cannot be?” asked Brock.

“That triumphant laugh! That spoilt and conceited voice! If I am not much mistaken that is Toad of Toad Hall himself. And, if I am not still more mistaken he is up to a prank or trick of some kind which will reflect ill upon any who identify themselves as coming from the River Bank. Therefore —”

The Water Rat and Brock slid anonymously inside the Tavern and kept in the shadows to see if he was right.

There was Toad standing upon a wooden table, tankard in one hand and a cigar in the other, leading the rabble in their fun and games. As the Rat arrived unseen Toad held up a hand to silence them, and all was still.

“Come on, gentlemen,” he was saying, “place your bets one last time!”

“But, Mr Toad, sir, you’ve made the same wager each time and each time you’ve lost! Those friends Mr Mole and Mr Rat are long since dead and won’t never come back. Why we’ve won that launch o’ yours three times over at least —”

“And I say — double or quits! Or are the good men of Lathbury ungentlemanly cowards and knaves who cannot hold their liquor or honour their debts?”

The Water Rat, the most practical of animals, saw at once that Toad had been so insufferable as to lay wager upon the life of himself and the Mole, but then at least it showed a certain confidence he liked. The Rat was not without a sense of humour, and he saw that his help was needed. Instructing Brock to delay a minute or two and then announce that Mr Toad’s friends had just that moment arrived outside, he slipped back to the jetty, tied his own boat to what must surely be Toad’s launch and then set the engine running for a speedy departure.

Brock had the same commanding presence as the Badger himself, and when he emerged from the shadows and made the announcement a general exodus ensued. Out came Brock and Toad, with the young Count carrying the money pursued by a wondering rabble who were astonished at the news that the Water Rat was there.

“Quick!” said Brock to the youngster, and together they heaved Toad aboard, leapt on after him and the Rat expertly powered the craft into the middle of the stream and out of the mob’s reach.

“‘E’s got our money!” cried the landlord.

“‘E’s got our
beer
money” cried another.

“Aye, so ‘e ‘as,” said Old Tom, his voice strong against the rabble’s, “but didn’t ‘e win ‘is wager fair and square? That’s certainly the same rat as we saw before, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re a rascal, Mr Toad! I’ll bet you knew Mr Rat was alive all along!”

Toad, now nearly recovered and realizing he was safe once more, assumed a mysterious smile, a most satisfied smile.

“Did I win it or not?” he cried, grabbing the money from Brock and holding it aloft.

“You did, sir,” they cried in reply. “But now you’ve got the boat as well. It don’t seem quite fair.”

Toad laughed.

“Am I not the cunningest, the cleverest, the wiliest Toad who ever lived?”

The mob stared at him, lost for words. Finally it was Old Tom who spoke for them all. “I’ll tell you what you be, sir,” said he, with admiration in his voice. “You’re a toss-potly stuff-gutly vagabond, the finest as ever darkened the doors of the Hat and Boot, and you be welcome hereabouts anytime!”

There was general laughter at this and Toad replied, “Well spoken, my man! Here, landlord, take this back and let everybody have another drink on me!”

With that the generous and good-natured Toad swung the bag of money about his head and hurled it back onto the bank where it fell at the landlord’s feet.

Then, turning to the Rat, he calmly said, “You arrived barely in the nick of time, old chap; what kept you?”

“But —” began the Rat furiously.

Quite unashamed and betraying not a single trace of gratitude, Toad commanded the Rat thus: “Steersman, guide her from these shores!”

At this there was a general hurrah for Toad and all his works, except from the Rat, who looked as if he would have a good deal to say on this subject and some others concerning Toad before very long.

As they set off downstream it was to another rendition of the familiar song, only this time it began, “For
Toad’s
a jolly good fellow!” and it continued long and loud and saw the launch and its passengers well on their way.