“Splendid. And now come along. We can all get in the limousine, and there’s a van for your luggage.”
During the drive from the station I told her the style of the letter she should have received, and disclosed the grave construction placed upon it by the actual recipient. When I told her that Mr Boleton and I were now in telegraphic communication, she gave a little crow of delight.
“How priceless!” she cried. “Perhaps there’ll be a wire when we get back.”
She was wrong. But only by a few minutes. Before we had been at Red Abbey for a quarter of an hour, a telegram was handed to me. Falcon had forwarded it from London.
Forced to regard your conduct as molestful delivery of your luggage will not be accepted parasites will remain boxed and receive necessary attention at your expense and risk pending instructions regarding their removal which should be communicated to station-master direct any attempt on your part to enter Pride Langley tomorrow will be forcibly resisted.
At once I arranged for the dispatch of the following reply—
At great inconvenience have arranged to postpone arrival of luggage and parasites until tomorrow aaa impossible however to stop elephants seven of which should reach you by road before midnight and remainder by 2 a.m. aaa as already stated am unable at this juncture to cancel my visit but shall certainly never stay at Pride Langley again aaa if “molestful” means what I think it does I shall point you out to the large parasite.
We spent a hilarious evening.
The Irish terrier showed Nobby that hospitality for which the Isle is famous. He made him free of the house and grounds, showed him the way to the kitchen, and indicated by occupation the most comfortable chairs. Nobby returned the compliment by initiating his host into the mysteries of a game which consisted of making a circuit of the great hall, ascending the main staircase, entering and erupting from any bedroom of which the door stood open, and descending the staircase – all of this recurring – with the least possible delay. The Irish terrier proved an apt pupil, and, so far as can be judged, if Diana’s maid had not encountered them in the midst of their seventh descent, and been upset, and of vexation nipped by an angry competitor for her pains, the game might have gone on for weeks. This incident, however, followed by the production of a hunting whip, brought the game to a close and the host to his senses. Hastily he repaired a grave omission, and a moment later Nobby was cowering in comparative, if inconvenient, safety beneath an enormous tallboy chest.
After dinner cards were brought forth and
vingt et un
was played. In a weak moment I volunteered to “carry” Jill, who played with an
abandon
which was at once exhilarating and extremely expensive. Her persistent refusal to “stand” on anything less than twenty-one commanded an admiration which, but for my presence, would have been universal. The only run of luck with which her audacity was favoured coincided with my tenure of the bank, during which period she took fifty-two shillings off me in seven minutes.
As I pushed her counters across—
“I’ve heard of robbing Peter to pay Paul,” I said gloomily, “but never of robbing Charlie to pay Chaplin. Why couldn’t you do this when some one else had the bank?”
“You shouldn’t deal me such cards,” was the ungrateful reply.
A moment later she turned up a “natural” with a dazzling smile.
There was a roar of laughter.
“Of course, this is Berry’s luck,” said I. “And it needs Berry’s tongue to cope with it. A little more, and I shall ship for Australia before the mast. Yes, I’ll have a brandy-and-soda, please. Of appropriate strength.”
“In inverse proportion to your luck?” said my host.
I shook my head.
“That would require Berry’s liver. Besides, tomorrow morning I’m going to help your wife to decorate the church. I admit I was a fool to promise, but it’s done now, and—”
The chocolate which Diana threw at me ricochetted from my cheekbone on to the hearth, and was devoured by Nobby in the very teeth of his host.
I looked at my watch with a sigh.
“I suppose I ought to have told you that chocolates fall without the limit of his digestive powers. The last one took about four hours. And it’s eleven now. I am glad I came.”
My statement was received with ironical cheers…
It may or may not have been the chocolate, but in the small hours of the following morning it became expedient that I should admit Nobby into the open air. And so it came about that I stood patient and shivering, in a fur coat and pyjamas, at a garden door, while a small white rough-haired thing heaved upon the lawn twelve decent yards away.
The sailing moon, clear-cut, issued her cold white light and showed the sleeping country silent but troubled. A pride of clouds rode high in heaven, and the same strong careless wind that bare them swept from the leafless boughs of earth below a boisterous melody, that rose and fell in league-long phrases, far as the ear could follow. Nature was in a royal mood. Her Cap of Maintenance was out, Pomp was abroad, the trump of Circumstance was sounding. A frown of dignity knitted her gentle brow, and meadows, roads, thickets and all her Court wore a staid look to do her honour. Only her favourite, water, dared to smile, and the flashing lake flung back the moonlight with long ripples of silvery laughter.
Somewhere close at hand an owl cried, and Nobby answered the challenge with a menacing bark. I whistled, and he came running, the very embodiment of health and spirits. Marvelling at a dog’s recuperative powers, I reopened the door. As I did so, I heard the stable clock striking. Three o’clock.
Twelve hours later a servant entered the library to arouse me from a refreshing sleep with the news that some one desired to speak with me upon the telephone. Heavily I made my way to the lobby and put the receiver to my ear, but the first sentence I heard drove the lingering rearguard of Slumber headlong from my system.
It was an Inspector of Police, speaking from Flail.
“I think we’ve got your case, sir. Pigskin, seventeen inches by ten, an’ a blue line runnin’ acrost it?”
“That’s right,” I said excitedly.
“An’ it’s still locked. No initials. But we’d like your formal identification. Besides… I don’t know whether you could manage this afternoon, sir, but if you could… You see, it’s a matter of a charge. We’re detainin’ a man in connection with the thef’.”
“Oh, I don’t want to proceed. So long as I get the case back…”
“’Fraid we can’t ’ardly do that, sir.”
I groaned. Then—
“How far is Red Abbey from Flail?”
“Matter o’ twelve mile, sir. Wouldn’t take you no time in a car.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Goodbye.”
Both cars were needed to meet incoming guests, but a Miss Doiran, who had arrived that morning in her own two-seater, offered to drive me to Flail and back before tea.
A quarter of an hour later we were on the road.
She listened attentively to the story of my loss. When I had finished—
“You’d little enough to go on, I must say. I’d never have dared to say that man had stolen it.”
“It was a bow at a venture,” I admitted. “But it seems to have come off. All the same, I don’t want to charge the chap. He deserves six months, if only for his cigar, but I’d rather somebody else sent him down.”
“I expect they’ll make you. After all, it was a pretty smart capture, and the police’ll be fed to the teeth if you don’t go through with it.”
“Considering it was stolen in London, I didn’t see any sense in telling the police at Flail, but the station-master apparently knew his job.”
With a temporarily disengaged hand Miss Doiran caressed Nobby, who was seated between us.
“I’ve always wanted a Sealyham,” she sighed.
“You could have had one for nothing at three o’clock this morning.”
“Did he have you up?”
I nodded.
“And down and out.” I sighed. “It was a handsome night. Very cold, though. I thought of you all warm in bed.”
“What a wicked story! You never knew of my existence.”
“I thought of everybody. That embraced you. It’s extraordinary how little women can wear without dying of exposure, isn’t it?”
Miss Doiran glanced at her sleeve.
“This coat is lined with chamois leather,” she said. “I don’t know what more you want.”
“Yes. But your stockings aren’t. When you stepped into the car I was quite frightened for you.”
My companion’s chin rose, and she stared through the windscreen with compressed lips.
“I’m as warm as toast,” she said defiantly.
“If you’re no warmer than the toast I had for breakfast this morning—”
“You should get up earlier.”
“I thought I told you I was up and about at three.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Doesn’t it? All right. You get up at three tomorrow and think of me all warm in bed, and see whether it counts. By the way, don’t say you wear pyjamas, because I can’t bear it.”
Miss Doiran addressed our companion.
“Is he often like this, Nobby?”
I explained.
“It’s not idle curiosity. You see, I’m editing a directory to be called
That’s That
. It’s really a short list of the few nice people left who aren’t anybody: with just a word or two about their manners, failings, virtues, if any, and the attire they usually affect when off duty. It won’t say when they were born, but why they were born.”
“That’ll sell it,” said Miss Doiran.
“So you see. May I know now, or must I wait outside the bathroom?”
“I’m afraid,” said Miss Doiran, “that you must wait outside the bathroom.”
I sighed.
“If it is pyjamas,” said I, “I shall scream.”
Some geese hissed as we swept by. The noise was inaudible, but the hostility of their gesture was patent. Its effect upon Nobby was electrical. Exasperated to madness by the gratuitous insult, he made the most violent attempts to leave the car, only pausing the better to lift up his voice and rave at his, by this time distant, tormentors. His dignity was outraged and, what was much worse, unavenged.
“D’you still want him?” I shouted, holding fast to his collar with one hand, while with the other I strove to muffle his cries with the rug.
“Every time.”
I swallowed before replying.
“Of course, this is exceptional,” I said weakly. “He can be very good if he likes.”
Miss Doiran laughed.
“I believe you just dote on him.”
I lugged the white scrap out of the welter of rug and set him up on my knees. Surprised, he stopped barking and looked me full in the eyes. Then he thrust a cold nose into my face. Almost roughly I put him away.
“I believe you’re right,” I said.
Ten minutes later we drove up to Flail Police Station.
I thrust Nobby under my arm and stepped out of the car. Then I turned to the girl.
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” I said.
“Right oh!”
Sure enough it was my dispatch-case. In some embarrassment I described the ridiculous contents. Then I produced the key and confirmed my own words.
“I must say,” I said, “you haven’t wasted much time. How did you recover it?”
The inspector in charge looked grave.
“’E’s a nice little lot, what took this case, sir. I shouldn’t wonder if there was ’alf a dozen warrants out for ’im. As plausible a rogue as ever I see, an’ as full o’ swank as a negg is o’ meat. Told us the tale proper, ’e did. One o’ the kind as gets through by sheer nerve. Now, nine out o’ ten’d ’ave bin through this ’ere case last night and throwed it away. But ’e’s not that sort. Walks through the town this afternoon with it under ’is arm, as bold as brass.” A “plain-clothes” man entered and stood waiting. “All ready? Right.” He turned again to me. “An’ now, sir, we’ll be obliged if you’ll step into the yard and see if you see anybody you recognize. I’d like the identification to be regular.”
Perceiving my chance of doing the thief a good turn, I assented readily. It was my fixed intention to recognize no one.
I followed the policeman into a high-walled yard.
Variously attired, six men were drawn up in line.
“Do you see anybody you know?” repeated the inspector.
I did.
Standing third from the left, with a seraphic look on his face, was Berry
.
For a moment I stood spellbound. Then I began to laugh uncontrollably.
“Go on, you fool,” said Berry. “Indicate the felon. I admit it’s one up to you, but I’ll get my own back. You wait. Why, there’s Kernobby.” The terrier slipped from under my arm and ran to where he stood. “Good dog. But I mustn’t play with you till the gentleman in blue boxcloth says so. ’Sides, I’m a giddy criminal, I am.” He addressed my companion. “Will you dismiss the parade, inspector? Or shall we do a little troop drill?”
I turned to the bewildered officer.
“It’s all a mistake, inspector. This is my brother-in-law. He must have borrowed the case without my knowledge. For goodness’ sake, get these men away, and we’ll explain things.”
The inspector hesitated, but Nobby’s frantic efforts to lick the suspect’s face settled the matter. Gruffly he acted upon my suggestion, and the little squad broke up.
In the charge-room we satisfied him of the sincerity of our statements and exonerated him from blame. To do the police justice, Berry was dressed more or less in accordance with my hazy description of the “thief,” and it was my dispatch-case. Courtesies were exchanged, I signed a receipt for my property, and Berry, his effects restored, gave a poor devil, who was brought in to be charged with begging, enough to console the latter for his detention on Christmas Day.
A moment later I was introducing him to Miss Doiran.
“Thief and brother-in-law in one,” I said. “A terrible combination.”
Berry took off his hat and put a hand to his head.
“Whose reign is it?” he said dazedly. “When I entered the gaol it was King George.”
With his back to the fire in Daphne’s bedroom, Berry proceeded to clear the air.
“If any one of you four had a tenth of the instinct of a village idiot, it would have occurred to those diseased fungi which you call your minds that I had said I should want Boy’s dispatch-case. But let that pass.