She Painted Her Face

by Dornford Yates

  So thick and fierce were the briers and so deeply was Herrick involved that a quarter of an hour went by before we could haul him out, and though both Winter and I were honestly sorry for him, our sense of decency failed before the directions he issued and the bellows of pain which he let. Indeed, we laughed so much that we could hardly stand up, much less extricate his dead weight from the welter in which he lay, and if, in the end, he had not withheld his complaints, I do not believe we should ever have dragged him clear.

  That was enough for us all, and we made our way home, proposing upon the morrow to assault the neighbouring heights. These were hard of access, because they were not served by roads which the Rolls could use, but we were reluctant to trespass except in the last resort and so refused to be daunted by a prospect we could not enjoy.

  The burden of the next three days will hardly go into print. Enough that we fought like madmen to wrest from the mountains and forests a secret which, if they had, they would not disclose. Such harsh and unprofitable labour I never did, and when Herrick at last declared that he would no longer abuse his long-suffering flesh, I must confess I was thankful to throw in my hand.

  At four o’clock on a Thursday he leaned against a fir and stated his case.

  “I do not like doing trespass, and I simply loathe doing trespass without first surveying the scene of the trespass I mean to do. But I’m not going on with these rambles, because I prefer to die in some less exacting way. A lingering illness, for instance… I am tired of unseating my intestines by efforts no goat would be such a fool as to make, and I’m sick of straining my eyeballs in an effort to see through cover which is just about as transparent as a cellar of coal. In a word, I have had my fill of futility. I, therefore, suggest that we should cut the rest of a prelude which I shall try to forget, scrap our attempts to rival the fowls of the air and enter time enemy’s lines without further delay. I may say that this suggestion belongs to the spirit alone: if I took the advice of the flesh, I should enter a nursing-home.”

  With that, he began to retire by the way we had come, and Winter and I came after without a word.

  As we drove back to Raven, we summed up what we had learned from going about the estate, and after an excellent supper, of which we were very glad, we studied the map we had marked and laid our plans.

  These were, very shortly, to make for the mouth of the northern entrance-drive. There Winter would set us down and then go off for petrol, of which we were running short. If the map was true, the drive was some two miles long, but the end we had seen was flanked with fine, tall bracken, which would, at need, afford us most excellent cover from view. From the drive we could first survey and presently take to the foothills which neighboured the castle itself and so look down on the building we meant to watch: and though it would have been quicker to climb the foothills at once – for they stood close to the road running south of Brief – we should then have been unable to see ahead and might well have passed over some crest, clean into some garden or terrace commanded by every window that looked that way. How long our visit would last, we could not tell, but when Winter had taken in fuel, he was to return with the Rolls and berth her in one of the tracks.

  With that, we went to bed early, for we were to rise at dawn, more or less content that the country had forced our hands and little dreaming of the ruffle which the morrow was to bring forth.

  The sky was cloudless, the world was drenched with dew and the sun was not yet upon the mountains, when Winter set us down a hundred yards from the mouth of the entrance-drive. To this there were no lodge-gates, and only a board marked ‘Private’ distinguished its rough, brown surface from that of an ordinary road.

  “The first track on the right, Winter. Back her down and take her well into the wood. You may have to wait some time, but don’t go far from the car and keep out of sight of the road.”

  “Very good, sir,” said Winter, and set a hand to his hat.

  Five minutes later the Rolls was three miles off and Herrick and I were padding along the drive, one upon either side of the ill-kept road, ready to enter the bracken the moment we saw or heard any sign of life.

  For a furlong the drive ran straight: then it bent to the left and the woods upon either hand began to close in: but the bracken held on and was growing tall and thick – we could see the green flood stretching beneath the trees. And then the drive curled to the right and ran into the woods.

  We had covered more than a mile and the sun was up, when, something to our surprise, we heard the sound of a car. This was behind us, coming the way we had come, and at once we whipped into the bracken and kneeled down among time green stems, to let it go by.

  After a moment or two, a closed car, travelling slowly, slipped into and out of our sight. The blinds of the car were drawn, and a chauffeur, wearing black livery, sat at the wheel. A glance at the number-plate showed that this was obscured.

  “The return of Percy,” said Herrick, “after a heavy night. I know just how he’s feeling. And I’m glad I’m not his valet, if what you tell me is true.”

  With his words, the car disappeared, and we rose out of the bracken to hasten along in its wake.

  We were now approaching the foothills among which the castle stood, but the drive was so serpentine and the trees by its sides were so thick that we could not see what was coming for more than some fifty paces beyond each bend. We, therefore, took the precaution of leaving the road for the bracken before we rounded a curve, to make sure the next reach was empty before we exposed ourselves. That we did so was just as well, for a quarter of a mile further on, I lifted my head from the bracken to see the closed car at rest in the midst of the way. One of its doors was open, and someone within was speaking with Percy Virgil, who seemed to be very angry and was pointing the way we had come.

  Be sure I dropped like a stone, and Herrick, moving behind me, followed my lead.

  After a moment he wriggled his way to my side.

  “What do you see, Sister Anne?”

  “Percy himself,” I whispered. “Having a row with someone inside the car. It looked to me as though he was sending them back.”

  As I spoke, the car began to move backwards slowly enough.

  Now the drive was not wide enough to allow any car to turn round, but a track ran out of the drive some six or seven paces from where we lay. By making use of this track, any chauffeur could turn any car, and I was ready to wager that here the car would be turned. Sure enough, in a moment or two, we saw the body swing backwards into the track. For all that, I should have been wrong, for the car did not stop until it was four or five paces clear of the drive, when the chauffeur applied his hand-brake and switched his engine off. The car had been parked.

  As somebody opened the door, Percy Virgil strode out of the drive and into the track.

  Here I will say once for all that throughout this tale I shall report in English such speech as was used. Much was, of course, said in German, but though, when I heard it, I did not know what it meant, Herrick translated it for me as soon as ever he could.

  As he came to the car —

  “Where’s the wire?” snapped Virgil. “Or have you forgotten that?”

  “It is here,” said another man.

  “And the change of clothes?”

  “Also,” said a woman’s voice.

  “All marked, as I said?”

  “That is so.”

  “Then follow me,” said Virgil, “and bring the wire.”

  Cautiously raising our heads, we saw the procession set out – first Virgil, then the man, then the woman, with a dog on a lead. The chauffeur brought up the rear. They passed behind the car and disappeared in the wood.

  When Herrick explained what had passed, I put a hand to my head.

  “What on earth does it mean?”

  Herrick shrugged his shoulders.

  “Unless,” he said, “dear Percy is making a film…”

  “Which is absurd,” said I. “But so is everything else. And wher
e does the dog come in?”

  “Nothing comes in,” said Herrick. “It’s all preposterous. But I’m glad to have seen dear Percy – extremely glad. And I’ll tell you this, my friend – if ever we should set out to get that gentleman down, we shall have to pull our socks right over our knees. He certainly looks a blackguard, but he’s not the sort of blackguard that makes mistakes. I can see him committing murder, and never turning a hair: but he’d have his alibi ready – tied up and sealed and posted, before he went after his man.”

  I shall always find it strange that Herrick’s first impression of Virgil should have agreed so very closely to mine, for though I had told him about him, I had only said that I thought him a clever, unscrupulous man. Yet, here was Herrick using the phrase I had harboured when first I saw the fellow a month before. And I must say it sobered me, for, for one thing, two heads, it is said, are better than one, and, for another, Herrick was very discerning and knew his world.

  Having seen and heard what we had, I was for following Virgil, to see what his business might be, but when I suggested this, Herrick raised his eyebrows and glanced at his watch.

  “As you please,” said he, “but it’s now getting on for five, and the out-door staff will be up and about by six. If we turn aside and start stalking Percy and Co. – and it means stalking, mark you: not whipping along a road – by the time we get back to our job, we may find that we’ve missed the tide.”

  This was sheer common sense, so I said no more. For all that, I had a feeling that Virgil was up to no good and I left him behind with reluctance and thinking all the time of the puzzle which we had been set.

  Wire, a change of clothes and a dog on a lead…at half-past four in the morning…in the midst of a private park. And a closed and numberless car…and the clothes had been marked…

  I think I may be forgiven for wondering what was toward.

  Ten minutes perhaps had gone by when the drive curled between the foothills and then swung round to the left and began to climb. Almost at once the woods on its right fell away, and there was the castle before us, perhaps three hundred yards off.

  It made a lovely picture, lit by the rising sun, for its tower and its seven turrets stood out most bold and brilliant against the blue of the sky and these and every projection that caught the light were throwing shadows so vivid that the castle looked heraldic and might have been a blazon of black and gold. It was built of grey stone and must once have been a fortress of considerable strength, but windows had later been set in its massive walls, and chimney-stacks had been added, to make it a residence. The work had been carefully done and was now itself so old that the blend of mansion and stronghold delighted the eye, and though an antiquary might have looked down his nose, the result was both strong and gentle and full of dignity.

  No smoke rose from the chimneys, nor could we see any movement within or about the house, and since we could hardly have wished for a finer view, we left the drive for some bushes a few yards off to settle down to the business of searching the tops of the foothills which stood to the south. These were the lesser heights over which we had been looking the day before; if we could occupy them, without being seen, we should overlook the castle from end to end, and since their opposite sides ran down very close to the road, they would be more easy of access than any other position commanding the house.

  Herrick, I think, was more excited than I, for, now that he saw the castle as he had seen and known it when he was twelve years old, he began at once to remember the plan of the house: since this was all to the good, I let him be, and myself began to survey the heights which we hoped to use.

  Almost at once I remarked that on one of these, three firs were standing together to thrust a grey-green steeple into the sky: this, I was sure, could be seen from the farther side and so would make us a landmark for future use. The next thing I saw was a path which slanted up from the meadows into the woods, and when I had taken my glasses, I found that it led to an elegant belvedere. This looked unfrequented, and but for my glasses I could not have picked it out, for the trees which had been cut back had put forth new boughs. Because of the veil of foliage, nobody standing there could ever be seen from below, yet he could see as much as he wished by peering between the leaves. To reach this spot from above looked easy enough, for it hung a short thirty feet below the crest of the hill, and the ground between was covered with beech and fir.

  This was enough for me. As a matter of form, I raked the neighbouring heights, but though they offered good cover, I saw no spot to compare with the belvedere. And this, of course, was natural, for the belvedere had been made to the end which we had in view, that is, to command the castle; and though in the old, quiet days, it might have been used, I found it hard to believe that man or woman today could be bothered to climb so high for the sake of a pretty prospect and nothing more. My one idea, in fact, was to make for the Rolls and then to go round by road and get to the belvedere as soon as ever I could. But Herrick, deep in memory, would not be moved.

  “Why rush your fences?” he said. “We’ve plenty of time. I’m doing lovely work – I can even remember a picture that hung in the dining-room. That’s the dining-room at the end. You can’t see the stables from here – they’re behind to the left. But what I’m on now is the tower. I think it rises from the courtyard – I’m almost sure. But I know that it had a door on the second floor. The courtyard’s beyond that archway – not very big… You go on, if you like – I shan’t be long. But I don’t want to drop the thread, in case I can’t find it again. The belvedere’s gorgeous, of course: but I never saw the castle from there. It’s because this view is familiar that everything’s coming back.”

  I had a sudden idea.

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll go on. And on the way I’ll see what Percy’s up to.”

  “What could be better?” said Herrick. “But don’t get involved. We’re here to find out – not give battle. Don’t forget that.”

  “I promise,” said I. “Don’t be long,” and with that, I was gone.

  Retracing my steps, I did not use the drive, but moved by its side through the bracken beneath the trees. This, because I was sure that Virgil would make his way home as soon as his business was done. I had marked that he was unshaved and was wearing a scarf for a collar about his throat, and from what I knew of the man he meant to return before breakfast and rise in his regular way. And though I might now be too late to see what his business was, at least I saw no occasion for meeting him face to face. However, he did not appear, and, as I approached the track, I saw that the car was still there and had not been moved.

  Now all I knew was that Virgil and his companions had passed up the track out of sight. How far they had gone or whether they had kept to the track, I had no idea, but since it seemed pretty clear that they would not be very far off, from now on I took greater precautions against being seen. When I moved, I did so gently and went on my hands and knees, and whenever I rose to look round, I did so against a tree-trunk, as though, indeed, I were stalking some wary prey.

  First of all, I took a good look at the car. This was roomy and powerful and something the worse for wear. Its number-plates had been oiled and were coated with dust. One of its doors was ajar, and within I could see an old suitcase, no doubt containing ‘the clothes’. But that was all, and after a long look round, I went on my way.

  I dared not use the track, though I followed the line which it took, and, what with the care which I showed and the many halts which I made, my progress was very slow. For all that, I dared not hasten in case the four I was seeking were close at hand, for it must not be forgotten that, if they had come to rest, the cover which served me so well would stand them in just as good stead. Then, again, they had a dog with them.

  I went on, picking my way…

  It was nearly six o’clock, and I had been gone from Herrick a full half-hour when the track beside which I was moving came to an end. This to my dismay, for now I had nothing to go on, although, of
course, the track might have led me wrong.

  In vain I sought for a broken stem of bracken which might declare the trail which my friends had left: in vain I scanned the forest and strained my ears: but for the birds and the squirrels I might have had the world to myself.

  Flat against the trunk of an oak-tree I wiped the sweat from my face. Five paces ahead a ride had been cut through the woods: though this was thick with bracken, it gave me a pretty clear view to right and to left, but the flood stretched smooth and unbroken and I could see no sign of its having been crossed.

  Loth to admit defeat, I tried to think what to do. To proceed was easy enough, but, for all I knew, with every step that I took I might be going away from the party I sought. Yet to stay where I was was useless. If only there had been a hillock to add a few feet to my height, I could have looked down upon the bracken and that point of view might have shown me the traces the others had left. But there was no hillock: the ground hereabouts was sloping, but nothing more.

  Suddenly I thought of the oak-tree and lifted my eyes…

  If I could reach it, there was the coign I desired. One of the mighty branches was stretching out over the ride – a branch twice as thick as my loins, some twenty feet up. If I were there, I could see for a quarter of a mile, while the leaves of the lesser boughs would save me from being seen.

  After a long look about me, I leaped for a sturdy sucker and swung myself up. My branch was not easy to come to, because what handhold there was was so far between, and I must confess that, whilst I fought my way up, I could not help wondering how I should ever get down. However, I would not turn back, and after two or three minutes I flung a leg over the perch upon which I had set my heart.

  I now had a very good view of the whole of the ride, which sloped, on the left, to the meadows south-west of the house, and rose, on the right, to a circus, whence three other rides ran out, as spokes from a hub. Across the ride two definite trails had been left – or, rather, one and a half. The first, which stretched right across, was thirty paces away, to the left of the oak; and the second, which stretched but half-way, as far to the left again. At the end of this second trail, full in the midst of the ride, the woman was sitting alone, with her back towards me.