“Wait half a minute, and we’ll change over.” He turned to Adèle. “Will you sit in front with Boy?”
As the change was being made, Mr Dunkelsbaum advanced.
I have seldom set eyes upon a less prepossessing man. To liken him to a vicious over-fed pug is more than charitable. Smug, purse-proud and evil, his bloated countenance was most suggestive. There was no pity about the coarse mouth, which he had twisted into a smile, two deep sneer lines cut into the unwholesome pallor of his cheeks, from under drooping lids two beady eyes shifted their keen appraising glance from me to Berry and, for a short second, to Adèle. There was about him not a single redeeming feature, and for the brute’s pompous carriage alone I could have kicked him heartily.
The clothes were like unto the man.
From beneath a silk-faced overcoat, which he wore unbuttoned, the rich contour of a white waistcoat thrust its outrageous way, spurning the decent shelter of a black tail-coat and making the thick striped legs look shorter than ever. A diamond pin winked in the satin tie, and a black bowler hat and patent-leather boots mercifully covered, the one his crown, and the others his short fat feet.
My gentleman raised his hat and removed a cigar from his mouth before speaking in a thick voice and with a strong foreign accent.
“My segretary ’as tol’ you of my agsident, yes. I voz much oblige’ vor a lif’ to Brrrrooch. These gattle” – contemptuously he pointed to the waggoner and his great beasts, to whose common sagacity he owed his life – “should not allowed be on der roats, no. Ach, so. It voz all wrong.”
“Quite so,” said Berry. “I think they’re worse than pedestrians. If I had my way, nothing but high-powered cars would be allowed on any high road. If people can’t afford cars, let them keep to the lanes.”
“So ’ave I say often. What vor are der baths an’ lanes else? Bah!”
By now Adèle had taken her seat in front, and my brother-in-law, who had descended, was ushering Mr Dunkelsbaum into the place she had left. With a grunt the fellow made to hoist himself in, when Nobby took a flying leap from the front seat and planted himself in the intruder’s path, barking furiously.
Immediately withdrawing the foot which he had set upon the carpet, Mr Dunkelsbaum descended anyhow on to his secretary, who was not expecting him and so too late to recede. The scream of agony which the unfortunate creature emitted, no less than the convulsive way in which he clung to the wing, while standing upon one leg and protesting with a horrible leer that he was unhurt, gave the lie to his words.
His employer spoke at once and to the point.
“Den, if you ’ave no ’urt, what vor ’ave you yell in mine ear-’ole? Bah!” He turned to me. “You vill blease gondrol der ’ound.”
Mastering a desire to do the man violence, I leaned out and over the back of my seat and, taking Nobby by the scruff of his neck, hauled him struggling and growling across the barrier. Adèle received him tenderly and endeavoured to soothe him. But the Sealyham was mourning a lost opportunity and would not be comforted.
Bluntly commanding his creature to stay with the car and arrange for its salvage, Mr Dunkelsbaum once more heaved himself into the Rolls and sank upon the back seat. Berry followed, and a moment later I had let in the clutch and turned up the by-road.
By the time we had reached the entrance to the enclosure it was ten minutes past two, and, as Berry got out to open and hold the gate, I saw our passenger bring out a handsome timepiece and, after a glance at the dial, replace it in some uneasiness.
“Your dime voz der same as London?” he inquired.
“Five minutes ahead,” I replied maliciously.
“Ach!”
“We shall do it all right,” I said airily. “Your appointment’s at three, isn’t it?”
Mr Dunkelsbaum went a rich green colour, half rose from his seat, and clawed at the air before replying.
“Three?” he raved. “Three? No, no! ’Alf-pas’ doo, man, ’alf-pas’ doo! ’Oo ’as say it voz three? In a quarder of an hour ye mus’ be dere. It is fital, yes.”
Adèle began to shake with laughter.
“Right oh,” I said casually. “I dare say we can manage it.” The gate was open, and I let in the clutch with a bang. With a startled grunt, Mr Dunkelsbaum was projected violently on to the seat he had left. As I slowed up for Berry to rejoin us, “But I may have to go rather fast,” I added.
“Like der devil,” was the reply.
The going was good, and the road was unfrequented, so I let the car out. We tore down an avenue of firs, great rugged banks of rhododendrons sprawling on either side, scudded into a beechwood – pillars all silver-grey, set in a ruffled mass of whispering green, swam through a sea of bracken, rippling and feathery. And all the time I was racking my brain…
To the best of my recollection, we had another three miles to cover before we should emerge from Ramilly on to the King’s highway. But at the very point at which we should leave the enclosure there were crossroads and, I was sure, a finger-post announcing the way to Brooch in a plain manner which there was no mistaking.
In the face of this direction, which our passenger would be certain to see, it would be impossible to take another road, and, though we should undoubtedly reach
The Fountain
after the appointed hour, it was quite possible that the proceedings might not be punctually conducted, and that the essential business of the sale would not have been completed before our arrival. Of course, there was nothing to prevent us from throwing off the mask, stopping the car, and politely intimating our inability to carry Mr Dunkelsbaum any further. But his reception of such an open declaration of war was certain to be unsuitable for Adèle’s eyes and ears, and the subsequent action which a man of his calibre would undoubtedly take might prove troublesome, if profitless.
Again, our eventual arrival at Brooch, however belated, would be better avoided. Berry and I were well known in the town, as was also our close friendship with Sir Anthony. Our identification, therefore, would be only a matter of time, and since, in the absence of a burst or a puncture, our progress to Brooch could only be delayed by pretended engine trouble, the suspicions which this would be sure to arouse in our passenger’s mind would very soon be confirmed.
Sooner or later the fellow would gather that he bad been befooled, but, provided that we preserved our incognitos, that did not matter. If we could possibly leave him uncertain whether we were as cunning as serpents or as simple as doves, so much the better.
In no sort of order all these reflections elbowed and jostled one another before my mind’s eye, which was itself searching feverishly for a solution. Then we floated round a long curve, and I saw the splash.
We were at the top of a short steep hill in the midst of a dense wood of tender years. At the foot of the hill our road was overrun by a fair-sized stream, so that while there was a little foot-bridge, vehicles that were wishing to pass this way must do so by way of the ford. Beyond the water the ground rose sharply again, making the whole place a bottom or hollow, such as was commonly encountered in this part of England.
I slowed up, and we slid down the hill at a reduced speed.
With the utmost caution I put the Rolls at the splash, making no attempt to disguise my uneasiness. Mr Dunkelsbaum would naturally conclude that I was anxious lest the water was deep. As a matter of fact, I was fearful lest the ford should prove shallow.
But luck was with us.
Very gently the great car entered the brown water, which was flowing slowly and steadily over its gravel bed. With my heart in my mouth, I watched the water rise… It was half-way to the running-board… It was level – above… It was lapping the spare wheel, and – we were in the deepest part. Quick as a flash I changed into top and let in the clutch with a bang. Instantly the engine stopped, and the car came to rest in mid-stream.
I took out my handkerchief and wiped my face.
There was an electric silence. Then—
“What’s the matter?” said Berry.
“Flooded out,” I said shortly, hoping that Mr Dunkelsbaum was not an engineer.
As I spoke, I heard a choking sound at my shoulder. I turned sharply, and there was my gentleman in a terrible toss. His eyes were protruding, and he could hardly speak.
“To Brrrooch!” he screamed. “To Brrrooch! Ve mus’ go on. I ’ave say it is fital. Sdard der gar, man, sdard der gar! What vor do you vaid?”
“I’ll try,” I said coolly. “But you’ll have to get out. Our only chance is to make her as light as possible.”
With a saintly look Berry opened the off-side door and sprang nimbly on to the foot-bridge. Then he turned to the other.
“Come along, sir.”
Mr Dunkelsbaum stared at the water as if it had been boiling oil. As he estimated the distance be was to cover, a bead of perspiration began to course down his face. It was the first of many…
Berry extended his hand.
“Come along, sir.”
The fellow threw one despairing glance about him, hung out of the car till he could reach Berry’s hand, and then, with a frightful grunt, goose-stepped into space…
The sight of Mr Dunkelsbaum, still hand-in-hand with Berry, endeavouring by the latter’s direction to step out of twelve inches of water on to the foot-bridge – a feat which only a contortionist could have accomplished – was diverting in the extreme. But when the unfortunate creature did by some superhuman effort get the elongated toe of his right elastic-sided boot upon the plank, and Berry found himself unable to do more than haul him half-way to safety, so that for one long hectic moment he hung writhing convulsively, frantically waving his left leg in quest of a footing and alternately calling upon Heaven and frenziedly charging his betrayer not to let go; when, as a result of muscular vibration, his left boot worked loose and fell into the water with a derisive plop; when Nobby, who had been watching the efforts of the storming party in a fever of excitement, leapt from Adèle’s arms on to my shoulders and thence into the flood, and, beating its raving owner by a matter of inches in a rush for the errant footgear, splashed his triumphant way to the bank and, amid a hurricane of execration, bore his waterlogged trophy into the undergrowth; then I bowed my head upon the steering-wheel and, throwing decency to the winds, ran before the tempest of Titanic laughter…
A wail of merriment from Adèle and a pressure upon my left arm brought me to my senses.
Watch in hand, Mr Dunkelsbaum was dancing upon a strip of turf by the edge of the stream, bellowing at me to start the car.
“I do nod gare vor my bood, no. But der abboinmen’… It vill nod vaid, I say. An’ it is now vive minute to begin. Ach! What vor ’ave you sid dere an’ laugh? My ’eart pleeds vor you. Ten tousand devil! But
vill you sdard ub der auto
?”
The yell with which he delivered the last sentence changed to a howl as his bootless foot alighted heavily upon an odd pebble, and Nobby peered out of some long grass, boot in mouth, to see whether the situation was affording further opportunities. Apparently it was not, for he lay down where he was and proceeded with the dismemberment of his spoil.
Adèle turned her head away and held her handkerchief to her eyes.
I set my foot upon the self-starter…
The moment the engine started, Nobby abandoned his treasure and leapt barking to the side of the car, fearful, as usual, lest he be left behind. Muttering hideously, Mr Dunkelsbaum seized the opportunity of retrieving his boot, whose present condition was apparently even worse than he had expected, for a hurried examination of the same elicited an involuntary cry of torment, and he shook his fist at the terrier in a fit of ungovernable fury.
Slowly I brought the Rolls out of the splash, and when, as I judged, about six feet lay between the back wheels and the stream, again I stopped the engine…
For a moment I thought Mr Dunkelsbaum would offer me violence. His mouth worked uncontrollably, and there was a suspicion of foam upon the thick lips. A sudden violent tug at the boot, which was still in his right hand awaiting replacement, mercifully diverted his attention, but the savagery with which he launched a kick at Nobby, who was once more in possession and already out of range, was terrible to witness.
“’Ell-’ound!” he screamed. “’Ell-’ound! You vould dare! I vill throw you oud of der vindow with one ’and. I vill gig der eyes from your ’ead.” In the midst of the paroxysm he turned to me, wild-eyed and gesticulating. “What vor ’ave you stay still? You mus’ sdard again an’ again, yes. To Brrrooch! To Brrrooch!” He snatched his watch from his pocket and dabbed at its face with a shaking forefinger. “Der glogs vill berhaps be wrong. I vill give you dwendy bounds if ve shall ’ave arrive in dime!”
The rearguard of my compunction, which had been putting up a fight, vanished into thin air. The sweep had offered me money. I was prepared to twist his tail indefinitely.
“If you pushed behind,” I said coldly, “we might get her going. If we do, you must get in while she’s moving. I daren’t stop, or we may have to begin all over again.”
Mr Dunkelsbaum eyed me suspiciously, and Berry, who had been hitherto afraid to trust his voice, took up the running with a dash.
“That’s the ticket. Come on, Herr Stunkenblotch. Never mind your boot. Think of the purchase you’ll get with a bare foot.” He stepped behind the car. “Now, you do as I do, and, when I say ‘Go,’ drop your bullet head and try to shove the old ’bus into the middle of next fortnight.”
With a snarl, Mr Dunkelsbaum slunk limping to the back of the car…
A moment later—
“Go!” said my brother-in-law.
Maliciously I waited the best part of thirty seconds. Then—
“Are you ready?” I inquired, innocently enough.
The explosion which my question provoked was truly terrible.
The panting alien and Berry immediately reappeared, one upon either side of the car, the latter protesting with an injured air that he was not so young as he was, and that, if I wanted him to survive the summer, I had better keep my ears open, while, to judge from his behaviour, the reflection that his recent output of vigour had been rendered nugatory by my unreadiness was hurrying Mr Dunkelsbaum into the valley of insanity. Purple in the face from the unwonted violence of his physical and mental exercise, streaming with perspiration and shaking with passion, the fellow stormed and raved like a demoniac, and, if Berry had not stepped in front of the bonnet and, taking him by the arm, led him again to the back of the car, I believe he would have fallen down in a fit.