His efforts to remove the offside oil lamp, which was hot to the touch, were most diverting, and twice he returned to the window to ask us to make less noise. At last, however, with the assistance of Fitch, the lamp was unhooked, and a moment later our absurd link-boy advanced cautiously in the direction of the gate.
Fitch let in the clutch.
We must have been halfway across, when a lamp of extraordinary power came gliding up on the near side, confusing all eyes and altogether effacing our guiding light.
Fitch applied his brakes and cried out a warning. Instantly the lamp stopped, but its glare was blinding and our chauffeur was clearly afraid to move.
In a flash I was out of the car and holding my shawl over the face of the offender. At once Fitch took the car forward. As I fell in behind, I heard Berry’s voice.
“Thank you. I hope I didn’t jostle your ’bus. Yes, I am completely and utterly lost. No, I don’t mind at all. I’m going to bale out the drinking-trough and sleep there. And in the morning they’ll take me to the Foundling Hospital. Hullo. That’s done it. Blind me first and then run me down. What are you? A travelling lighthouse or an air-raid? Want to get to Cannon Street? Well, I should go round by sea, if I were you… Well, if you must know, I’m Mary Pickford about to be trodden to death in
Maelstrom
or
Safety Last
. You know, you’re not racing your engine enough. I can still hear myself think…”
His voice grew fainter and stopped.
Vigorously I shouted his name. A cold draught, and we swept into the Park. Fitch pulled up on the left hand side.
“Berry, Berry!” I shouted.
In the distance I could hear voices, but no one answered me…
In response to my sister’s exhortations I re-entered the car, and drew a rug over my shivering limbs. The others put their heads out of the windows and shouted for Berry in unison. There was no reply.
For a quarter of an hour we shouted at intervals. Then Jonah took the other lamp and returned to the gate. He did not reappear for ten minutes, and we were beginning to give him up, when to our relief he opened the door.
“No good,” he said curtly. “We’d better get on. He’s probably gone home.”
“I suppose he’s all right,” said Daphne, in some uneasiness.
“You can’t come to any harm on foot,” said I. “Everything’s going dead slow for its own sake. And when I last heard him, he was having the time of his life. Incidentally, as like as not, he’ll strike a car that’s going to the Ball and ask for a lift.”
“I expect he will,” said Jill. “There must be any amount on the way.”
“All right,” said my sister. “Tell Fitch to carry on.”
Twenty minutes later that good helmsman set us down at the main entrance to the Albert Hall.
The conditions prevailing within that edifice suggested that few, if any, ticket-holders had been deterred from attending by the conditions prevailing without. The boxes were full, the floor was packed, the corridors were thronged with eager shining revellers, dancing and strolling and chattering to beat the band, which was flooding every corner of the enormous building with an air of gaiety so infectious that even the staid Jonah began to grumble that the dance would be over before the girls emerged from the cloakroom.
The Field of the Cloth of Gold cannot have presented a more splendid spectacle. True, there was nothing of the pageant about the function, neither were Pomp and Chivalry among the guests. But Grace was there, and Ease and Artlessness, lending the scene that warmth and life and verity which Form and Ceremony do not allow.
The utter hopelessness of encountering my lady of the limousine was so apparent that I relegated a ridiculous notion which I had been harbouring to the region of things impossible, and determined to think about it no more. For all that, I occasionally found myself scanning the crowd of strangers and wondering whether there was one amongst them whose voice I knew. It was during one of these lapses that I heard my name.
“Who have you lost?” asked Maisie Dukedom, all radiant as a gold shepherdess.
“Dance with me,” said I, “and I’ll tell you.”
She glanced at a tiny wristwatch.
“I promised I wouldn’t stay more than an hour,” she said, “and I ought to be going. But I want to thank you for that beautiful rug. If I give you the next, will you get the car for me as soon as it’s over?”
“If you must go.”
She nodded, and we pushed off into the rapids.
“And now, who is it?” she demanded.
“I thought you were going to thank me for the rug.”
She made a little grimace of impatience.
“The best way I can thank you is to tell you the truth. Jack and I went to buy a rug at Lucifer’s.”
“That’s where we got yours.”
She pinched my arm.
“Will you listen? We must have got to the shop directly you’d left. The one you’d bought was still lying there. We both thought it feet above any other rug there, and, when they said it was sold, I nearly cried. We were so fed up that we said we wouldn’t get a rug at all, and went off to look at bookcases and chests of drawers. I didn’t get home till six, and, when I did, there was your present. Are you satisfied?”
“Overwhelmed.”
“Good. Now, who’s the lady?”
“That’s just what I can’t tell you. I know her voice, but not her countenance. Her name is Dot – Lady Dot. She drives in a blue limousine and she’s here tonight.”
Maisie assumed a serious air.
“This,” she said, “is terrible. Does your life depend upon finding her? I mean…it’s worse than a needle in a bundle of hay, isn’t it?”
“Infinitely.”
“You can wash out the limousine, because you won’t see it. And the voice, because you won’t hear it. And her name, because she won’t be labelled. There’s really nothing left, is there?”
Gloomily I assented.
“I’m sorry,” said Maisie. “I’d like to have helped.” The music slowed up and died. “And now will you see me off?”
We made our way towards the exit.
I had found her footman and sent him to summon the car, and was standing within the main entrance, when a familiar figure began with difficulty to emerge from a car which had just arrived. Berry. Having succeeded in projecting himself on to the steps, he turned to hand his companion out of the car, as he did so presenting to the astonished doorkeepers a back of such startling dimensions that the one nearest to me recoiled, for all his seasoning.
I was wondering who was the muffled Samaritan that had brought him along, when the chauffeur leaned forward as if to receive instructions when to return. The light of the near-side lamp showed me the genial features of that communicative fellow who had restored my grey hat some nine days before.
Tall and slight, his mistress turned to the doorway, and I saw a well-shaped head, couped at the throat by the white of an ermine stole. Dark hair swept low over her forehead, an attractive smile sat on her pretty mouth, and there was a fine colour springing in her cheeks.
She looked up to see me staring.
For a moment a pair of grey eyes met mine steadily. Then—
“Is the car here?” said Maisie over my shoulder.
“Hullo, Berry.” Suddenly she saw his companion.
“Betty, my dear, I thought you were in Scotland.”
Under pretence of arranging her wrap, I breathed into her ear—
“Introduce me.”
She did so without a tremor.
“And give him the next dance for me,” she added. “I’ve just cut one of his, and he’s been most forgiving.”
“Too late,” said Berry. “I have not wasted the shining thirty minutes which I have just spent in Lady Elizabeth’s luxurious car. She knows him for the craven that he is.”
“I must judge for myself,” said my lady, turning to me with a smile. “He’s given you a terrible—”
The sentence was never finished, for Berry turned to look at somebody, and Maisie noticed his back for the first time. Her involuntary cry was succeeded by a peal of laughter which attracted the attention of every one within earshot, and in a moment my brother-in-law found himself the object of much interested amusement, which the majority of onlookers made no attempt to conceal.
My lady fled to her cloakroom. Hastily I escorted Maisie, still helpless with laughter, to her car.
I returned to find Berry entertaining a large audience of complete strangers in the vestibule with a fantastic account of his experiences at Stanhope Gate. Concealing myself behind a pillar, I awaited Lady Elizabeth’s return.
“Yes,” said Berry. “Betrayed by my accomplices, I found myself, as it were, a shred of flotsam adrift in the darkling streets. Several people thought I was the Marble Arch, and left me on the left. Others, more discerning, conjured me to pull in to the kerb. Removing from my north instep the hoof which, upon examination, I found to be attached to a large mammal, 1 started to wade south-west and by south, hoping against hope and steering by the Milky Way. Happily I had my ration-card, and I derived great comfort from its pregnant directions, which I read from time to time by the smell of the red-hot lamp which I was bearing…”
Here my lady appeared, and I led her into the corridor and on to the floor.
As she had promised, she was wearing a silver frock. One white shoulder was left bare, and a heavy fringe, that swayed evenly with her every movement, made the slim line of her dress still more graceful. Silvery stockings covered her gleaming ankles, and she was shod with silver shoes.
For a little we spoke of Berry, and she told me how he had boarded her car and respectfully begged her compassion. Then I spoke of the bitter wind which had blown us about so inconsiderately, before the fog had come to lay upon us stripes of another kind.
“I lost my hat one day,” I added casually.
At that she jumped in my arms as if I had stabbed her, but I took no notice, and we danced on.
Deliberately I recounted my loss and my pursuit, only omitting my encounter with her chauffeur.
“I happen to know,” I concluded, “that the lady of the limousine is here tonight. Before the ball is over I shall have danced with her.”
“But you’ve never seen her,” she protested.
“I know her voice.”
She laughed musically.
“Aren’t you a bit of an optimist?” she queried.
“I don’t think so. And she’s just sweet.”
“But if you don’t know her name, how can you hope—”
“Her name,” I said, “is Dot.”
The hand upon my shoulder shook slightly.
We danced on.
At length—
“That’s not very much to go on,” said Elizabeth.
I sighed.
“Don’t discourage me,” I said. “When I find her, d’you think she’ll give me the seven dances she said she would?”
“O-o-oh, I never…” She choked and began to cough violently, so that I drew her out of the press and into a vacant corner. “I never heard of such a thing,” she continued ingeniously.
“You wicked girl,” said I. “Why was Clapham Common?”
For a moment she looked at me speechless. Then she began to laugh tremulously…
With a crash the jazz came to an end. Almost immediately another orchestra took up the running, and the strains of a valse rose up, plaintive and tempting.
I looked at my lady.
“Have I earned my dances, Dot?”
She hesitated. Then—
“Carry on, Carry One,” she said.
How Nobby Came to Sleep Upon My Bed,
and Berry Fell Among Thieves
Thoughtfully I read the letter again.
…It nearly breaks my heart to say so, but I’ve got to part with Nobby. I’m going to India to join Richard, you know, and I’m sailing next week. I think you’d get on together. He’s a one-man dog and a bit queer-tempered with strangers – all Sealyhams are. But he’s a good little chap – very sporting, very healthy, and a real beauty. Let me know one way or the other, and, if you’d like to have him, I’ll send him round with his licence and pedigree.
Yours very sincerely,
JOSEPHINE CHILDE.
P.S. – He’s always slept on my bed.
The letter had been forwarded to me from London, for I was spending the weekend in Leicestershire with the Scarlets.
I looked across the flagged hall to my host, who was leaning against a table with a hunting horn in each hand, listening critically to the noise he was making, and endeavouring to decide upon which of the two instruments be could wind the most inspiring call.
“Live and let live,” said I. With a grin Bertram suspended his operations. “Listen. I’ve been offered a Sealyham.”
“Take him,” was the reply. “Your guests will regret it, but you won’t. They’re high-spirited and they’re always full of beans. Hard as nails, too,” he added. “You’ll never kill him. Tell me.” He brandished the horn which he held in his right hand. “Don’t you think this sounds the best? “ With an effort he produced a most distressing sound. “Or this?” Putting the other to his lips, he emitted a precisely similar note.
“There’s no difference at all,” said I, crossing to a bureau. “They’re equally painful. They do it rather better at level-crossings on the Continent.”
“It is patent,” said Bertram, “that you have no ear for music.”
“All right,” said I, making ready to write. “You try it. The hounds’ll all sit up and beg or something. I suppose it’s too much to expect to find a pen that’ll write here,” I added, regarding uneasily the enormous quill with which the bureau was decorated.
“That’s a jolly good pen,” said Bertram indignantly. “Everyone says so.”
I grunted my disbelief.
“Which end shall I use?”
“I recommend the right one,” rejoined my host with ponderous sarcasm. “But, as I have yet to meet anyone who can read your writing, I don’t suppose it matters.”
“I have often deplored the company you keep,” said I, and with that I selected a large sheet of paper and wrote as follows—
DEAR MISS CHILDE,
I’d like to have Nobby very much. I’m awfully sorry for you, but I’ll be very kind to him for both your sakes. The reference you give him is most satisfactory. I suppose he’ll want one evening a week and every other Sunday. And will he do in the front steps and spoil the knives? Or only ruin the boots? I beg your pardon. For the moment I was thinking of the cook who nearly engaged us. Only she wanted a pension after six months’ service. It was very nice of you to think of me. I’ll write you a proper letter when I send you a receipt. I return to Town tomorrow.
Yours very sincerely,
P.S. – He shall always sleep on mine.
As I was addressing the envelope, the butler entered the hall. I gave him the letter, and he promised to see that it was dispatched that day. A knowledge of Bertram’s household suggested this precaution.
As I had told Miss Childe, on the following day I returned to Town. It was the last Monday but one before Christmas, and Jonah’s birthday. To do the latter honour, we were to dine all together at Claridge’s and go on to an entertainment, presented in a house in which smoking was permitted, and of such a nature that you gained rather than lost by arriving late.
I reached home with sufficient time only to bathe and dress, and it was not until we were halfway through dinner that I learned that my letter to Miss Childe had borne immediate fruit.
“By the way,” said Daphne suddenly; “did the servants give you that message from Josephine Childe?” I shook my head. “It was down on the telephone block, but I suppose you were too hurried to look at that. ‘Miss Childe’s compliments, and Nobby will be round this evening.’” Hardly I suppressed an exclamation. “We’re all mad to know what it means. Berry scents an intrigue and says it’s a cipher.”
“Worse,” said I. “It’s a dog.”
“A dog?” cried Daphne and Jill together.
“A dog. You know. A small quadruped. Something like a cat, only with hair.”
“I know,” said Berry excitedly. “I know. I’ve seen pictures of them.”
“Fools. Both of you,” said my sister. “What’s she giving you a dog for?”
I explained the nature of the transaction.
“I have every reason to believe,” I concluded, “that he will become one of us.”
The others exchanged meaning looks.
“Is he any particular breed?” said Berry. “Or just a pot-pourri?”
I braced myself with a draught of champagne before replying. Then—
“He’s a Sealyham,” I said.
Uprose a damnatory chorus.
“I do hereby protest,” said Berry. “A barbarous breed, notorious for its unprovoked ferocity. Peaceable possession of our tenement will be unknown. Ingress and egress will be denied us. Substantial compensation will be an everyday affair. Any more for the Pasteur Institute?”
“Rot,” said I. “You’re jealous.”
“They’ve awfully uncertain tempers,” said Daphne. “Maisie Dukedom had one, and it went down and bit a new cook, who’d just come, before she’d got her things off. They had to give her five pounds, put her up at an hotel for the night, and pay her fare back to Bristol. And she had wonderful references.”
“Instinct,” said I. “The dog saw through her. They ought to have been grateful.”
“Truth is,” said Jonah, “they’re a bit too sporting for London.”
“Look here,” said I, consulting my watch. “At the present moment the poor little dog is probably fretting his soul out in the servants’ hall. So we’ll have to keep him tonight. If he’s the ravening beast you say he is, he shall be fired tomorrow. If not, I shall stick to him. That’s fair enough, isn’t it?”
“He’s going to be a darling,” said Jill. “I’m sure of it.”
Before we left for the theatre, I telephoned home and spoke to the butler.
“Is that you, Falcon?”
“It is, sir.”
“Any dogs come for me?”
“Only one, sir.”
“Is he all right?”
“Seems a little unsettled, sir, and – er – suspicious. He was rather short with Fitch, sir, when he come in, but he had his leggin’s on, sir, so there’s no ’arm done. He’s all right with me, sir.”
I thought of the Dukedoms’ cook and moistened my lips.
“See that he has a run on the lead before you go to bed,” I said as nonchalantly as possible, “and then put him upstairs on my bed.”
“Very good, sir.”
I returned to the lounge.
“Has the little bit of Heaven arrived?” said Berry.
I nodded.
“Casualties?”
“Nil,” said I. “Everything in the garden is lovely.”
“No doubt,” said Berry. “And the servants’ hall? I suppose that’s a shambles.”
“Don’t be silly,” said I. “He’s as good as gold.”
“There you are,” said Jill staunchly.
“Cupboard love,” said Berry. “You wait till we come in. I shouldn’t be surprised if he concentrated on me. They always aim high. It will be your duty,” he added, turning to Daphne, “to suck the wound. That is a wife’s privilege.”
“The best thing,” said Jonah, “is to hold a cigarette-end to the place.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Berry.
“Well, an iron takes such a time to heat.”
In a voice shaken with emotion my brother-in-law stated that he should regard any such treatment as a treacherous and aggravated assault upon his person.
“Don’t let there be any mistake about it,” he concluded. “I’m not going to have any amateur lifesavers burning holes in my body in the hope of being recommended by the Coroner’s jury. If I’ve got to die, I’ll just go mad in the ordinary way, thank you. I wonder who I shall bite first,” he added pleasantly.
“Don’t you worry,” said I. “Think what hydrophobia means.”
“What does it mean?” – suspiciously.
“A horror of water,” said I. “You must have had it for years.”
We left the theatre about eleven o’clock.
We had just come in, and I was disrobing in the hall – Berry was speaking to the chauffeur – when an exclamation from Jill, who was on the point of following Daphne and Jonah into the library, made me look round.
On the top step of the first flight of stairs stood a little white dog, regarding us squarely. He might have been painted by Maud Earl. His ears were pricked, his little forefeet placed close together, his tail was upright. A gas officer would have said that he was “in the alert position.”
“Hello, Nobby,” said I. “How goes it?”
At the sound of his name the terrier put his small head on one side with an air of curiosity as evident as it was attractive.
“What a darling!” cried Jill.
As she spoke I heard a latch-key inserted, and the next moment Berry pushed open the door.
Breathing out threatenings, the darling streaked down the stairs and across the hall to the new-comer’s feet, where he stood with his back arched, one forepaw raised, and bared teeth, emitting a long low snarl, while there was a look in the bright brown eyes which there was no mistaking.
My brother-in-law stood as if rooted to the spot.
Jill began to shake with laughter.
“What did I say?” said Berry, remaining motionless. “Can’t enter my own house now. It’s all right, old chap,” he added, gazing at Nobby with a winning smile. “I belong here.”
His statement was not accepted. Nobby, who was clearly taking no risks, replied with a growl charged with such malevolence that I thought it advisable to interfere.
I addressed myself to the terrier.
“Good man,” I said reassuringly, patting Berry upon the shoulder.
Jonah contends that the dog construed my movement as an attempted assault, which it was his duty to abet. In any event, in less time than it takes to record, the growl culminated in that vicious flurry which invariably accompanies the closing of jaws, there was a noise of torn cloth, and with a yell Berry leapt for and reached the bookcase to which he adhered, clinging rather than perched, after the manner of a startled ape.
A roar of laughter from me and long, tremulous wails of merriment from Jill brought my sister and Jonah pell-mell upon a never-to-be-forgotten scene.
The four of us huddled together, helpless with mirth, while Berry, calling upon Sirius, clung desperately to the bookcase, and Nobby, clearly interpreting our merriment as applause, stood immediately below his victim, panting a little with excitement and wagging his tail tentatively.
“After all,” said my brother-in-law, “what is Death? A b-b-bagatelle. Excelsior. Of course, I ought to have a banner, really. Just to wave as I fall. Two and a half guineas these trousers cost. Think of the dogs you could get for that. Excelsior. Seriously, I should get him a set of false teeth and keep them locked up. It’ll save in the end. Yes, I know it’s side-splitting. I’m only sorry I haven’t got a tail. Then I could hang from the electric light. As it is, what about calling off the dog? Not that I’m not comfortable. And the air up here’s lovely. But—”
With an effort I pulled myself together and laid a hand on Jill’s shoulder.
“Here,” I said, nodding in Berry’s direction, “here we have the Flat-footed Baboon, an animal of diverting but vulgar habits. That between its eyes is its nose. The only other known specimen is at Dartmoor.”
“D’you mind not talking?” said Berry. “I’m just thinking out your death. They say pressing is very painful. Or would you rather call off the mammal?”
I picked up Nobby and put him under my arm.
“You know, you’re a wicked dog,” said I.
For a moment his bright brown eyes met mine. Then with a sudden movement he put up a cold black nose and licked my face…
Before we retired that night, Berry had admitted that Nobby had his points, Nobby had accepted from Berry a caviare sandwich, and I had handed my brother-in-law a cheque for two pounds twelve shillings and sixpence.
It had been arranged that we should spend Christmas with the St Martins in Wiltshire, and we were to make the journey on the twenty-third. High festival was to be held at Red Abbey, a fine old place with mullioned windows and a great panelled hall that smacked of revelry and Christmas cheer even in summertime. On Christmas Eve there was to be a dance, on Boxing Day a tenants’ ball, and on Christmas Day itself the house-party of twenty souls was to assemble for dinner correctly attired after the manner of children of tender years.
So far as clothes could do it, the spirit of childhood was to be recaptured that night. Guests had been put upon their honour to eschew evasion. Kilts and sailor suits had been forbidden, as was any suit or frock which was not the monopoly of juveniles. Hair was to be worn down, monocles and jewellery were banned. The trappings of Dignity were to be rigidly put off, and Innocence courted with appropriate mockery. The composition of the house-party, which had been carefully chosen, promised an entertainment of more than ordinary interest.
On all three evenings dance music was to be discoursed by a famous coloured band, whose services had long ago been retained for the occasion.
A long-standing engagement made it impossible for Berry to accompany us from London. On Tuesday he must leave Town for Hampshire, but timetables were consulted, and it was discovered that he could travel across country on Christmas Eve, and, by changing from one station to the other at the market town of Flail, arrive at Red Abbey in time for tea.
“We can take your luggage with us,” said Daphne. “You’ve got all you’ll want for the night at White Ladies.”
It was half-past nine o’clock, and we were all in the library, resting after the labours of the day.
Berry from the depths of the sofa grunted an assent.