And Berry Came Too

by Dornford Yates

  “You may say what you like, but a brain must be seated in rubber to weather a shock like that. And the physical effects were frightful. Without the slightest warning, the whole of my contents gave way. How far they fell I don’t know, but I rose from that sunlit sward, the shell of a man. My very screams rang hollow. My lights had failed.

  “When I couldn’t shout any more, I crossed the stream by wading and stumbled towards a beechwood, a drive and a chip away, reviling myself like a madman for not having tied the dog up. Not that he had a collar – he must have lost that by the way – but mine would have done him nicely, and my tie would have made him a lead. This would have entailed no sacrifice. All that my raiment was fit for was household use. I retained it for decency’s sake, but a tramp would have had to be paid to take it away.

  “And then I heard the Knave bark – from the midst of the wood…

  “He heard me that time all right – it’s astounding the noise you can make when the hounds of Hell have got you by the nape of the neck – and he bounded out of the wood as I came to the trees. For a moment we mixed it, as usual; and then, before I could get him, he’d gone again.

  “I give you my word, I thought the dog was bewitched. And then, as I started to run, the scales of misunderstanding fell from my eyes. I’d forgotten my instructions to Boy – to take the Rolls on and try to encircle the wood. But Boy had carried them out, and now the Knave had found him and was doing liaison between us as best he could. I mean, the thing was too obvious…

  “After that, I took it easy.

  “Sure enough the Knave returned, committed a hasty assault and then flicked back out of sight by the way he had come. At my own pace I followed.

  “My theory was perfectly sound, except for the basic fact that it was not Boy. Liaison had been maintained with a man I had never set eyes on in all my life. There he was, with his back to a beech, and the Knave was leaping about him, nosing his clothes and pretending to bite his dispatch case and barking with an abandon that makes you feel that something may snap.

  “Well, of course I called the dog off and I said the usual things. I confess I felt my position. As you may have gathered, I wasn’t looking my best, and I hate being made a fool of at any time.

  “The stranger went straight to the point.

  “‘Can’t you stop him barking?’ he said.

  “‘More,’ said I. ‘If I can only get him, I’ll take him away.’

  “‘That’s all right,’ said the other. ‘You keep him here. I want to get on, I do.’

  “Well, I collared the dog somehow, and the fellow went off through the wood by the way I had come. And now believe me or not, but if I hadn’t held him tight the Knave would have run by his side. An utter stranger, mark you. And a tough-looking cove, at that. And there he was whining and trembling as though his dearest friend was walking out of his life.

  “I tried not to lose my temper, because that dog’s a good dog; but, considering what it had cost me to get to his side, the sudden fancy he’d taken stuck in my throat. Fancy? Infatuation – for a bounder he’d never dreamed of ten minutes before.

  “I got my collar on him and made my tie into a leash, but the moment he started straining I knew it was bound to go. And so it did – before I had time to think. I dived for his tail, of course. I might as well have dived for a passing swift. As for issuing any order, before I could open my mouth he was out of sight.

  “Well, at least I knew where he’d gone. There wasn’t much doubt about that. By the time I was clear of the wood, there he was on the farther side of the water, fawning upon his darling, wagging his tail like a mad thing and barking to beat the band. His addresses were furiously rejected. Before my eyes his darling aimed a blow at the dog. But the Knave only thought he was playing and whipped in and out of range and nibbled his heels. Over-ripe for violence, I started off in pursuit…

  “Approaching the idyll, I don’t think I ever felt such a blasted fool.

  “As I called the Knave to order—

  “‘What’s the matter with that dog?’ said the stranger.

  “I told him I wished I knew.

  “‘Well, I’ve got to get on,’ said the fellow. ‘I’m late as it is.’

  “‘I’m extremely sorry,’ said I. ‘If I can only catch him–’

  “‘You stop him barking,’ said the other. ‘It’s enough to drive a man mad.’

  “Well, for reasons which must be obvious, the Knave wouldn’t come to me: however, he stood quite still, with his ears on the back of his neck, so I started to go to him, mouthing treachery about ‘good dogs’ and that sort of tripe. How he lapped it up, I don’t know: but I was within one foot when that fool of a fellow moved…

  “We passed up the rise together – the Knave like a ram upon the mountains bounding about his beloved, the stranger describing all dogs with a wealth and variety of imagery which no one could have failed to admire, and myself conjuring the Knave in accents which might have been heard five furlongs away.

  “As we came to the second wood the stranger looked back.

  “‘Put a sock in it, can’t you?’ he spat. ‘You’re as bad as the dog.’

  “That was, of course, the last straw. The back of my forbearance was broken – yet what could I do? The hellish answer was Nothing. I couldn’t protest: I couldn’t even withdraw. The Knave was pestering the fellow. This, as the dog’s master, it was my duty to stop. But I was unable to stop it, because the dog declined to do as I said. Add to this that I had to stick to the dog… The desire to lie down and scream was almost irresistible. Rage and mortification possessed my soul. Indeed, but for the fact that my nose began to bleed I believe I should have had a seizure. At least, I like to look at it that way. It makes the remembrance less grievous.

  “In hatred, malice and all uncharitableness, we made our way into that wood – the stranger spouting imprecations and seething with wrath, the Knave curvetting about him, a witless Bacchant wooing his surly god, and myself, five paces in rear, chewing the cud of degradation and wiping my nose on the collar which should have been round the Knave’s neck.

  “We were in the heart of the wood when the stranger, goaded to frenzy, launched his attack. Using his dispatch case as a sort of morning star, he went for that dog with a concentrated fury which would have made a jaguar think. But the Knave, like Gallio, cared for none of these things. Avoiding the onslaught with the grace of a toreador, he danced in and out of range in manifest ecstasy, only waiting for the other to fall, as he presently did, before seizing the case in his jaws and doing his best to wrest it out of his hand. With a thousand dogs out of a thousand, that would have been my chance, but either the devil was in him or the Knave was the thousand and first. Still, if I missed him, at least I made him let go: for all that, the honours were his, for he took a scrap of silk with him which there seemed no doubt he had torn from some garment within the case. I suppose it had been protruding, for the case had seen better days. Any way there it was in his jaws, a delicate rose-coloured trophy – believe me, he flaunted the thing, mouthing it in obvious derision a short six paces away.

  “The stranger sat up and wiped the sweat from his face.

  “‘How long,’ he snarled, ‘is this comic cuts going on?’

  “‘I’m damned if I know,’ said I, and sat down on a rotting stump. ‘Have you far to go?’

  “The man made a choking noise.

  “‘You can see for yourself,’ I continued, ‘it isn’t my fault. I’ve run three miles across country–’

  “‘You oughtn’t to have a dog what you can’t control.’

  “‘Look here,’ said I, ‘it’s no good playing with words. In the ordinary way that dog’s an obedient dog. But he has found something about you he can’t resist. You’ve some fatal attraction for him – I don’t know what.’

  “‘Attraction be—,’ said the fellow. ‘It’s blasted persecution – that’s what it is. Biting me heels and tearing stuff out of my case. That’s my wife’s nightdre
ss, that is – what he’s got in his mouth.’

  “‘I’m extremely sorry,’ said I. ‘If you’ll give me your name and address, I’ll have another one sent to – er – Mrs – er–’

  “The stranger leaped to his feet.

  “‘I don’t want another one sent. I want to get on. Why can’t you lay ’old of the swine and let me go?’

  “‘I’m sorry,’ said I, ‘but you know the answer to that.’ I rose from my stump. ‘If you want to get on – we’ll go with you. That’s all I can say.’

  “The fellow pushed back his hat and threw a hunted look round. Then he squatted down and tried to allure that dog. His first attempt was abortive, for the Knave misconstrued his efforts and thought he was out to play. And when the Knave plays, he barks. Now no one knows better than I how distracting a dog’s bark can be, but I really thought that that man would go out of his mind. Squinting with emotion and clasping his head in his hands, he writhed like a soul in torment, calling upon me to ‘stop him’ as though the dog was not barking but passing sentence of death. I managed to stop him – of course by shouting him down; but so far from being grateful, the look that that fellow gave me would have poisoned a sewage farm.

  “‘You and your dog,’ he hissed. ‘I guess I’ll remember you: but not in my prayers.’

  “‘I don’t know that I blame you,’ I said, ‘but that’s neither here nor there. If you want to catch that dog, I shouldn’t bend down.’

  “The advice, which he took, was sound. In fact his second attempt would have been a success. After some hesitation, the Knave began to approach, mouthing the silk like a plaything which he was disposed to share. He was less than four feet away and still coming on when all of a sudden he stiffened and dropped the silk. He was looking past the stranger and of course I knew in a flash that we were no longer alone. As I turned to follow his gaze, a couple of uniformed police stepped out from behind a couple of burly trees.

  “‘Good morning, gents,’ said the sergeant. ‘It’s a lovely day to take the dog for a stroll. And now might I see the contents of that dispatch case? I daresay it’s only sponge cakes, but I’d like to be sure.’

  “Well, here we have another hiatus. All I can tell you is that I realized certain things. I understood why the stranger had been so mad to get on and why he had shown such a violent objection to noise. The Knave’s infatuation had cooked his goose. The dog had delayed and betrayed an escaping thief. And something else I perceived. And that was that I was involved. Already the police had assumed that the stranger and I were colleagues: my presence there was suspicious: I was plainly on terms with the thief: my appearance was dead against me: the truth was too fantastic to be believed, and the Knave was without the collar that bore my name and address: what was a thousand times worse, the dog’s demeanour was insisting that the stranger and I were close friends – we might have been his joint-owners… And there I met the thief’s eyes – and read my doom. The glare of Vengeance was sliding into a grin. My dog and I had ruined his chance of escape. Here and now was his chance of paying me back.

  “‘Well, George,’ he said slowly, ‘I guess we’ll be wise to go quiet. And perhaps another time, you’ll do as I say. If we’d stuck to that road…’

  “I called him a blasted liar and turned to the police. I can’t remember how I had meant to begin, but I know that the words I had chosen died on my lips. The sergeant had opened the dispatch case, and out of Jill’s nightdress he was withdrawing Jill’s pearls.

  “‘Good God,’ I said. ‘They’re my cousin’s.’

  “Then three things happened – all together.

  “First, the police were shaken. I’d spoken straight from the heart, and I saw the doubt in their eyes. Secondly, I saw that the Knave was a super-dog – that he bore no love to the stranger, but had scented and meant to stick to his mistress’ clothes. You ought to have seen him licking that sergeant’s face. Thirdly, I made a movement – I clapped my hands to my coat…one to each breast-pocket…TO SEE IF DAPHNE’S BRACELETS WERE SAFE.

  “I’d forgotten all about them. I picked them up this morning, just as I was leaving our room. They were on the dressing-table, and I thought it was madness to leave them for any odd thief to pick up. She was out in the garden then, and I meant to give them to her before I went off in the car.

  “Yes, the constable saw my movement, and before I knew where I was he had hold of my wrists. And the sergeant abstracted the bracelets with bulging eyes…

  “Well, there you are. I maintain that I died at that moment. I suggest that upon that buffet my ghost withdrew. Life was a shade too pregnant – too big with frightfulness.

  “When I rose again, I found myself cuffed to the stranger and staggering over the sward. The sergeant was walking in front and the Knave was trotting beside me, licking my hand. But I was past consolation. What happened then and thereafter is pardonably and mercifully blurred. The one thing that does stand out was the stare of respect and admiration inhabiting the eyes of the thief. You see, I’d left him standing – Greek had met Greek. He’d lain for those bracelets for weeks, and I’d got in before him and whipped them from under his nose.”

  Five hours and more had gone by, and Basingstoke and the police were things of the past. Sick, I suppose, of life, ‘the stranger’ had betrayed his accomplice – a footman whom we had engaged some six weeks before: my brother-in-law and the Knave had been borne to and received at Cock Feathers as though they were demigods – a triumph which, to my mind, they most justly deserved; and Perdita and I were strolling the formal garden upon flagstones which had been tapped by Queen Elizabeth’s heels. This, in silence. My companion may or may not have had ears to hear: that she had eyes to see was most apparent: her full appreciation of the manor had been immediate, and her quiet recognition of beauties which I had missed had shown me that I should do better to hold my peace.

  “I think that should be the nursery.” A slim hand pointed to a casement which was lighting a corner room on the second floor. “Do you think we might go up and see?”

  “I don’t see why not,” said I. “If somebody’s dressing there, we can always withdraw. But how do you tell a nursery? I mean, how—”

  “From the ceiling. If it’s still the original ceiling, we’ll know at once. There’ll be animals there – in plaster. We do the same today when we paper a nursery’s walls.”

  Feeling extremely humble, I followed her into the mansion and up the lovely staircase which led to the room she sought. Happily, this was empty…

  The low-pitched ceiling was squared with a moulding of plaster from wall to wall: in each corner of every square was a plaster beast – elephants, bears and peacocks, to gladden a baby’s eyes.

  As soon as I could speak—

  “Have you been here before?” said I.

  Perdita shook her head.

  “All the same, if you look over there, you’ll find my name on one of the window panes. My grandmother’s home was Cock Feathers and she used to play in this room. She’s told me all about it so many times. When she was only a scrap, she fell off a chair one day and hurt her head: and just at that moment her father, the fourth Lord Amersham, opened the door. And to stop her crying, he took off a ring he was wearing and with the diamond he cut her name on the pane.”

  Together we moved to the casement.

  The straggling copper-plate writing was easy enough to read.

  Perdita 1844.

  After a long look I straightened my back.

  “My dear,” I said, “words fail me – and that’s the truth.”

  Perdita the Second smiled.

  “It only shows that Saul was among the prophets. If you remember, you said there was more to come.”

  “The Knave, the diamonds…and the Queen.”

  “‘The Lost Lady’ – that’s what Perdita means.”

  “I picked up a Queen,” I said firmly. “The Knave found the diamonds, and Berry found the Knave: but I found the Queen that was missing for ninety year
s.”

  Her chin on her shoulder, a child looked up to my face. All the sweet of her nature looked out of her glorious eyes.

  “Do I seem to belong here, Boy?”

  I glanced round the nursery, gay with the precious issue of evening sun.

  “Yes, sweetheart,” I said, stooping. “And always will.”

  2

  How Berry Perceived the Obvious, and

  Daphne and I Put Spokes in Each Other’s Wheels

  Berry pushed back his plate and lighted a cigarette.

  “I suppose,” he said, “that if I were to venture to protest, I should be subjected to insult.”

  “That,” said I, “is more than probable – because your idea of protesting is to compare unfavourably and most offensively those with whom you happen to disagree.”

  “Permit me to observe,” said Berry, “that that is a venomous lie. Because, under great provocation I may have gone so far as to suggest that my views would receive more consideration from the humbler denizens of the jungle than from my own flesh and blood—”

  “‘A bunch of blue-bottomed baboons,’” said Daphne. “That was your elegant phrase.”

  “‘Blue-based,’” said her husband. “‘Blue-based.’ Never mind. As I was saying, I confess that upon occasion I have hinted that I should value the ruling of mammals more simple-minded than ourselves. Frankly, I should value it now.”

  “There you are,” said Daphne. “What did Boy say?”

  Berry expired.

  “What is there offensive,” he demanded, “in saying that I should like to submit the point at issue to one or more baboons – blue-based, if possible?”

  “Nothing at all,” said Jonah, “provided you don’t aver that their considered opinion would be of more value than ours.”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t do that,” said Berry. “I should never do more than suggest that, if they were so consulted, the baboons would agree with me.” He sighed. “I suggest as much now.”