The burden of the hour that followed was of a kind which I should be glad to forget. My object was, of course, to return by the way I had come: but to recognize something which you have never seen requires, I suppose, an instinct with which I am not endowed. Thanks to the finger-posts, I soon found out where I was, and I knew to within five miles where Berry and I had parted and the Rolls had been commandeered. But I was without a map, and so surely as some road seemed familiar it led me away from the district for which I believed I should make. I was not so much lost as bewildered, and I turned and backed and wandered until I was sick of life. What was worst of all, I knew nothing. It might not have been the Knave that Berry had seen. If it was, I presumed he had caught him. The thought that he had failed where I might well have succeeded was scarcely bearable.
For eighty blazing minutes I sought my brother-in-law. Then at last I threw in my hand and drove all out for Dewdrop, to keep my appointment with Jonah and give him my wretched news. I need hardly say that I ought to have started before: but I know no fascination like that of the hope forlorn. The glaring fact remains that I entered the Granbys’ lodge gates exactly half an hour late for the call which I was to have taken at twelve o’clock.
As I brought the car to rest in front of the creeper-clad house, a girl I had never set eyes on appeared at the head of the steps. To say she was attractive means nothing. Had her figure been all her fortune, she would have been rich: but the light in her gay, brown eyes and the curve of her small, red mouth were unforgettable.
As I took off my hat, she nodded.
“Good morning,” she said. “Have you any news of the Knave?”
Feeling rather dazed—
“Berry’s got him,” I said.
“He hasn’t!”
“I believe he has,” said I. “The whole thing’s rather mixed up.”
“I should think it was,” said the girl. “You wait till you hear the message I took from your cousin just now. But how on earth did you find him?”
Shortly I told my tale. When I had finished, my lady raised her eyes.
“And they told me England was sleepy. Never mind. Come and see what I know.”
I left the car and followed her into a hall. This was cool and dim, making a blessed contrast to the heat and the glare without.
My companion touched my arm and pointed to a well-furnished tray.
“That’s meant to be used,” she said. “Your cousin said you liked beer.”
As she moved to a writing table—
“I should like,” I said, “to remember you in my prayers. Of course I can refer to you as Hebe, the darling of the gods. But—”
“Try Perdita Boyte, Captain Pleydell. My mother’s renting this house. And when your cousin rang up, neither of us saw any reason why I shouldn’t bear a hand. I’ve a Sealyham away in Boston that I wouldn’t care to lose.”
“It’s perfectly clear,” said I, “that you are as sweet as you look,” and with that I poured the liquor and drank her very good health.
Miss Perdita Boyte inclined her beautiful head. Then she took up a sheet of paper and held it out.
“This is what your cousin dictated – for you to read. Look it through, Captain Pleydell, and see if you feel the same.”
I took the sheet curiously.
Falcon never sent the message we got last night. It never came from White Ladies. It couldn’t have come, for the telephone wire was cut. All the same, that message was true. The Knave is not here. THAT MESSAGE IS JUST THE MESSAGE WHICH FALCON PROPOSED TO SEND LAST NIGHT AT ELEVEN O’CLOCK: BUT WHEN HE PICKED UP THE RECEIVER HE FOUND THAT THE LINE WAS DEAD.
Make what you can of this. I’m inclined to think that the Knave was decoyed away by the fellow who cut the wire. You know. Prospective burglary. But all is all right at While Ladies, and nobody seems to have tried to get into the house. And why the telephone message?
Get your wits to work, for I’m fairly beat. Any way I’m seeing the police. Any news to The Fountain at Brooch up to half past one.
“Why the telephone message?”
I looked up sharply, and things about me took shape.
“Exactly,” said I. “That’s, so to speak, the keyhole. Find the key that fits it, and we shall unlock the truth,” and, with that, I emptied my tankard, sat down upon a sofa that offered, and re-read my cousin’s dispatch with a hand to my head.
When I looked up again, Miss Boyte had taken her seat on the arm of a mighty chair. As my eyes met hers, she shook her head gravely enough.
“It’s not fair, is it?” she said.
“You’re very understanding,” said I. “That’s just how I feel. Things like this can’t happen: so when they do, it upsets you. One’s armed to cope with Life – not with Alice in Wonderland. I mean, messages may go astray; but I never heard of one fetching up which had never been sent.”
Miss Boyte frowned.
“Don’t make it too hard,” she said. “The message must have been sent.”
I fingered my chin.
“That I’ll admit,” said I. “I received the message, so the message must have been sent. But it didn’t come from White Ladies. And only the staff at White Ladies could have known what message to send.”
There was a little silence.
At length—
“You spoke of a keyhole,” said Miss Boyte. She hesitated. Then: “Whilst I’ve been waiting for you, I’ve been trying…various keys.”
I looked at her very hard. Delicate eyebrows raised, the girl was regarding the palm of an exquisite hand. But that was a pose. Voice and fingers declared the excitement she felt.
At once I caught the infection and got to my feet. “Go on,” I cried. “Go on. What keys have you tried?”
My lady frowned.
“I may be quite wrong,” she said. “And I don’t want to make things worse by—”
“If I think you’re wrong, I’ll say so. Please say what you think.”
Miss Boyte looked up.
“First, tell me this,” she said. “If thieves broke into White Ladies, what would they get?”
“Silver,” said I. “Nothing else. My sister’s got her jewels with her. And so has Jill.”
“Quite so,” said Perdita Boyte. “Well, here’s the key that I fancy – I may be wrong. The word ‘decoyed’ made me think. Supposing you’ve been decoyed. You and your cousin and Berry – I don’t know his other name. Decoyed away from Cock Feathers, in search of the Knave.”
“Good God,” said I, staring upon her, as well I might.
“Listen,” said the girl. “Assume that a gang is after your sister’s jewels. They know your movements, of course: and they see that your stay at Cock Feathers is going to give them their chance. But they must get you out of the way. That’s ‘why the telephone message,’ saying the dog you worshipped had disappeared. In fact it was true. But how could the thieves know that? So they cut the wire – to prevent your ringing up Falcon and learning that the message was false.”
For a moment my brain zigzagged, and I was aware of nothing but the glowing face before me and the light in the big, brown eyes. The pose I had noticed was gone, – and, with it, the smart young lady, called Perdita Boyte. A child was leaning forward – an eager, beautiful child, natural and sweet as the breath of her parted lips.
“And – and the car I chased?” I stammered.
“I’ll bet that was them,” said the child. “It all fits in.”
I fell on the telephone like a man possessed. “Cock Feathers,” I cried. “Near Amble. I think it’s Amble 29.”
“Amble 29,” replied a dispassionate voice…
Waiting for the call to come through, I covered my eyes and went over the ground again.
Daphne and Jill had worn their jewels last night: they had returned too late to have them put into the safe: the news of the Knave’s disappearance not only had filled our minds but had brought us all abroad before the office was open and we could deposit the gems – for my sister had rise
n with us and had proved the gardens and meadows before we had left… If Perdita Boyte was right and a gang was after those jewels, we had as good as given them into their hands. As for the car I had chased, if the jewels were not at Cock Feathers, it seemed extremely likely that they had been in that car. Time and distance allowed it. The thought that, but for that mammoth blocking my way – The stammer of the telephone-bell blew my reflections to bits.
Miss Boyte had the spare receiver almost before I could speak.
“Is that Cock Feathers? I want Mrs Pleydell at once.”
After a maddening delay—
“At last,” wailed my sister’s voice. “Oh, Boy, I’m beside myself. I’ve been trying to get you or Jonah since half past nine. All our jewels have been stolen, and a message has just come through that Berry’s under arrest.”
“Berry under arrest?” I screamed. “But what has he done?”
“I’ve no idea,” wailed Daphne. “I thought you’d know. They say he’s at Basingstoke. And everything’s gone, Boy. Jill’s pearls and my bracelets and all. Have you found the Knave?”
“I think so. At least, I don’t know. I thought Berry had.”
“I don’t understand,” cried Daphne. “If you were with him—”
“I wasn’t. I – I had to go on. When I saw him last he was running after the Knave. At least, he said he was, but he may have been wrong.”
Miss Boyte began to shake with laughter.
“May have been wrong?” shrieked Daphne. “D’you mean he’s out of his mind?”
“Of course not,” said I. “But I couldn’t see any dog. He simply said ‘There he is,’ and ran off to a wood.”
“Ran after a wood? But you said – Besides, who ever heard—”
“Off to,” I yelled. “Off to. But I tell you, I never saw him. It may have been a goat, or something.”
“A what?” screamed my sister.
“A goat,” I roared. “A thing with horns. G for Godfrey.”
Miss Boyte shut her eyes and clapped a hand to her mouth.
“Well, what about it? Whose goat?”
“Nobody’s goat. I only said—”
“Where’s Jonah?” said Daphne, faintly. “I can’t go on talking to you. And I’m not in the least surprised that Berry is under arrest. But what’s to be done about it? Will you go and bail him out or whatever one does?”
“I will. And you ring up Jonah. You’ll get him at The Fountain at Brooch. Tell him—”
“I’ll tell him all right,” snapped my sister. “Meanwhile that poor, blessed dog—”
“Is at Basingstoke,” said I. “Basingstoke for a monkey. If Berry was right when he—”
My sister rang off…
I addressed myself to Miss Boyte, who was wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Overwrought,” I said shortly. “That’s what’s the matter with her. And of course, I’m not at my best. But you can’t compress a social upheaval into a three-minute call. And when you don’t get the right questions…
“Yes, I noticed that,” said Miss Boyte. “Never mind.” She picked up a hat. “May I come to Basingstoke with you? I – I’d like to be in at the death.”
As she moved to a looking glass—
“My dear,” said I, “the idea of going without you had not occurred to me. Twenty minutes ago you were a luxury: now you have become a necessary. Besides, I have a feeling there’s more to come. When Fate puts on her Cap of Coincidence—”
“‘Is Saul also among the prophets?’”
From the mirror a brown eye mocked mine.
“I beg your pardon,” said I. “There is no goddess but Beauty, and Perdita is her prophetess. I imagine that the prison gates of Basingstoke will fly open at your approach. And if you’d come on to Cock Feathers, I’m sure you’d make Daphne well. Besides, I want to be seen with you. Anyone would.”
A child had hold of my arm.
“Did you think I meant to rebuke you? I didn’t, indeed. I meant – oh, it doesn’t matter. I’ll love to do all you say.”
I took the pointed fingers and put them up to my lips. “A little more,” I said, “and I shall go down on my knees.”
An hour and a quarter later we ran into Basingstoke.
As I was handing Perdita out of the Rolls—
“I think,” she said, “there’s somebody trying to catch your eye.”
I turned to see Constable Dane descending the police station steps.
As a hand went up to his helmet—
“Hullo, Dane,” said I. “Did you get him?”
Dane permitted himself the ghost of a smile.
“Got them both, sir,” he said. “And every bit of the stuff.”
“Not the emerald bracelets?” I cried.
The constable started and stared.
“There was two bracelets,” he said cautiously.
I threw my hat in the air.
“And a diamond necklace,” I said, “and a beautiful rope of pearls.”
Dane put a hand to his head.
“An’ three good rings,” he said. “But – excuse me, sir, but ’ow on earth do you know?”
“It’s easy enough,” said I. “It’s my sister’s stuff. The moment I heard she’d been robbed, I wondered if I’d been helping to chase the thief.”
Dane blinked from Perdita to me.
“Well, there’s a go,” he said slowly. “It’s like one o’ them story-tales. An’ another thing. ’Ow could you ’ave come here to identify stolen jools wot you didn’t know ’ad been found?”
“I haven’t,” said I. “I came here to bail a man out.”
My words might have been a spell.
Open-mouthed, wide-eyed, the constable seemed to recoil. Then—
“B-bail a man out?” he stammered. “Not a – not a man wot’s got an Alsachun an’…”
His voice tailed off.
I was doing a double-shuffle and Perdita was laughing to glory and hanging on to my arm.
“The Knave!” I shouted. “He’s got him! Two o’clock of a glorious sunshiny day, and all’s well!”
“Hush,” bubbled Perdita, “hush. You’ll be under arrest yourself if you don’t look out.”
I pulled myself together and turned to the station steps. But these were empty. Constable Dane was gone.
I returned to Perdita.
“Come along, my dear,” I said. “Come along and be in at the death.”
One minute later we entered a sultry charge room, to find the ‘Inspector on duty’ frowning upon his own writing and wiping the sweat from his face.
As we came in, he looked round. Then he got to his feet.
“Yes, sir?” he said abruptly.
“I’ve come,” I said, “to bail out my brother-in-law. There’s some mistake, of course. I mean—”
“What’s his name, please?”
“Major Pleydell.”
The inspector raised his eyebrows.
“D’you know what he’s charged with?” he said.
“I can’t imagine,” said I. “When I—”
“Felony,” said the inspector. “Having in his possession stolen goods.”
“I shan’t be the same,” said Berry. “No man born of woman could stand what I’ve stood today and be the same. I rather think I died more than once. There are, so to speak, hiatus in my recollection. I am unable to recall those circumstances immediately subsequent to the more brutal of the shocks which I received. I submit that on such occasions I was without my ghost. Bludgeoned beyond endurance, the spirit had fled… I mean, take the opening of the masque. There was the Knave within earshot. He couldn’t have failed to hear me, but for that horn – that vox humana of Hell. I shouldn’t even have had to get out of the car. But a foul and malignant Fate selected that vital moment to drown my voice, and I had the unspeakable anguish of seeing a miracle happen and then the fruits of that miracle run out like a basin of water because I couldn’t shove in the plug. Well, that’s the sort of thing that uproots the sou
l. I don’t remember leaving the Rolls or how I got into the field. The first thing I do remember was falling down. Blear-eyed with emotion, I failed to perceive, until too late, that the meadow had been recently tenanted by cows which I have every reason to believe not only were magnificent specimens but enjoyed the best of health. The havoc I wrought was too awful. Had I been desired to obliterate all traces of their tenancy, I couldn’t have done so more thoroughly. When I got up you could hardly see where they’d been.
“Well, I passed on into the trees, alternately lamenting the Vandalism and trying to whistle for the Knave. I regret to say that I did more damage, by falling, to what was an excellent grove. Finally I emerged, hoarse and torn and bleeding, plastered with new-laid dung and sweating with a freedom which verged upon the obscene – to see a speck in the distance lope into a second wood…
“I must have proceeded – somehow. Somehow I must have traversed the largest expanse of meadow I ever saw and somehow I must have savaged that second wood, for the next thing I knew was that twenty-five paces away a brook was flowing through pastures and the Knave was standing knee-deep in one of its pools. Very wisely, no doubt, he had stopped for a wash and brush up. Be that as it may, there he was, not only as large as life, but as fresh as paint. And I didn’t have to call him. I fancy he heard my breathing before I was clear of the trees…
“Well, you know his idea of a welcome. If you’ve been away half an hour, it’s grievous bodily harm. I’ve a notion I tried to run, but of course I hadn’t a chance. I just went down before him, as corn goes down before the blade. When I came to, he’d damned near licked my face off and was rolling upon my body for all he was worth. Exactly. My condition appealed to him. I was, in his eyes, wearing a wedding garment.
“When it was all over, I managed to crawl to the brook. There I made the sort of toilet one tries to forget: and then we lay down together to take some rest. He seemed to like the idea, which was just as well: myself, I was past speaking. The wave of reaction alone would have submerged a sage.
“How long I slept I don’t know. I should think for about six minutes – it may have been more. The fact remains that when I awoke and sat up, the Knave was gone.
And Berry Came Too Page 3
