And Berry Came Too

by Dornford Yates

  The bidding continued to rise.

  At seven hundred and fifty the man with the pince-nez dropped out.

  “Eight hundred pounds… Eight hundred… Eight hundred pounds.”

  My brother-in-law glanced at the rostrum.

  “And ten, thank you. Twenty… Thirty…”

  “Who’s against me?” hissed Berry. “You must be able to see.”

  Subduing an impulse to scream, I sought for some tell-tale gesture, and sought in vain.

  A note was thrust into my hand.

  Stench’s man is not bidding – J.

  When I offered the note to Berry, he pushed it away.

  “Can’t you see who’s taking me up?”

  “It isn’t Stench.”

  “That,” said Berry, “is what I wanted to know.”

  “Nine hundred pounds.”

  The auctioneer was looking at Berry.

  As the latter lifted his chin—

  “And ten… Twenty.”

  “Damn the fellow,” breathed Berry, and nodded again.

  “Thirty… Forty.”

  An oppressive silence followed. Then Berry inclined his head.

  “Fifty… Sixty.”

  Berry raised his eyebrows – and lifted his chin.

  “Seventy… Eighty.”

  “Make it a thousand,” said Berry.

  “One thousand pounds, thank you.”

  A sudden buzz of excitement rose and fell. As it died down—

  “And ten,” said the auctioneer.

  To my amazement, Berry sat back in his chair.

  “Well, that’s that,” he murmured.

  I could hardly believe my ears.

  “You’re not going to stop?”

  “Of course I am,” said Berry. “Our limit is reached.”

  “One thousand and ten pounds.”

  “But we’ve still got three—”

  “That’s all washed out. I’m not going to blue our own money on something that Stench won’t touch.”

  “One thousand and ten pounds.”

  Looking up, I met Daphne’s gaze. Her agonized look of inquiry showed that she did not know whether the last of the bids was Berry’s or not. Her doubts were rudely dispersed.

  “It’s against you, sir.”

  My brother-in-law shook his head.

  The auctioneer raised his hammer.

  “For the last time, one thousand and ten pounds.”

  As the hammer was falling, I nodded my head.

  “Twenty, thank you. Thirty… Forty… Fifty.”

  “Are you doing this?” said Berry.

  “Some of it,” said I, and nodded again.

  “Sixty… Seventy… Eighty…”

  “You’re out of your mind,” breathed Berry. “No table on earth is worth it. Besides, if—”

  “Eleven hundred… And ten…”

  “I won’t come in,” said Berry. “I warn you, I won’t come in. You’ve had the straightest of tips and you’re flying bung in its face.”

  “So did you,” I retorted, and nodded again. “You knew that Stench—”

  “We had a thousand to play with. If we chose to—”

  “Twelve hundred pounds.”

  The auctioneer was looking at me.

  Once again I nodded.

  “Twelve hundred and ten… Twenty…”

  As I nodded again, I saw Berry start and stare – at the end of the room. Then he turned and caught at my arm.

  “Perhaps this’ll stop you,” he hissed. “It’s Daphne that’s bidding against you. I saw her nod.”

  “Good God,” said I, weakly.

  “Twelve hundred and forty pounds.”

  “Can you beat it?” said Berry grimly. “Baboon eating baboon.”

  “Twelve hundred and forty pounds.”

  I got to my feet.

  “How long—”

  “Who knows?” said Berry, rising. “She probably took me up.”

  “It’s against you, sir.”

  I shook my head…

  As the hammer fell, I made my way out of the press.

  Standing at the back of the room, my sister and I regarded one another.

  “I suppose,” said I, “you came in when Berry stopped.”

  “As you did,” said Daphne. “It’s really all his fault for not going on.”

  “It’s a mercy he saw you,” said I. “I tremble to think—”

  “Don’t talk about it,” said Daphne. “When Jonah came and told me, I nearly died.”

  I slid my arm through hers.

  “Well, come and claim it, my darling. At least, you had the last word.”

  My sister frowned.

  “Twelve forty, he said.”

  “I know. I bid twelve thirty, and you put me up.”

  “But I didn’t,” cried Daphne. “The moment Jonah told me, I turned away.”

  “Yes, but that was after twelve forty.”

  “I bid twelve twenty,” said Daphne, “and then Jonah caught my arm. Twelve twenty or thirty. I can’t be sure which it was.”

  “You’ve got it wrong, my darling. I bid twelve thirty. I must have.”

  The auctioneer’s clerk put us straight.

  “I’m afraid it’s neither of yours, sir. When the lady dropped out, we took up the bidding again. We were bidding for one of our clients who isn’t here. I’m very sorry, sir – more sorry than I can say. If you’d bid once more, you’d have had it. We had instructions to go to twelve hundred and fifty pounds.”

  I pass over the next three days, the burden of which was as bitter as they were long. Daphne and Jill were inconsolable, and the comfort which Berry offered sent half out of their minds. The latter made no secret of his relief.

  “It’s a case of divine intervention. You flouted the lead Stench gave us, and a merciful Fate preserved us against your will. In the very nick of time she shoved a spoke in your wheel – both wheels. When I think… Oh, and that thousand pounds isn’t ours. If we’d spent it at Hammercloth, we might have tried to pretend that we’d handed it back. As it is, we are spared that effort. It belongs to Geoffrey Majoribanks, and I’m going to send him a cheque.”

  While we all accepted this ruling, the other argument salted our gaping wounds. We rent and were rent in turn, and when Jonah announced his conversion to Berry’s faith, our house was indeed divided against itself.

  So, as I say, for three days. On the fourth came Miss Perdita Boyte.

  In fact, I fetched her myself – from The Woolpack of Shepherd’s Pipe.

  The afternoon was lively. Clouds, like full-rigged galleons, sailed in a flawless sky, and a harlequin breeze was abroad in the countryside. Cornfields rippled like pools, old elms nodded their heads and every shadow was dancing to the humour of wind and sun.

  As we floated into the festival—

  “There is no health in us,” I said. “The loss of that table has fairly ripped the balloon.”

  Perdita raised two eyebrows which Joshua Reynolds would have been happy to limn.

  “Why didn’t you stick to that thousand? If you hadn’t put in your oar, those chairs would have gone to Stench for two hundred and forty-five pounds.”

  “I know. But, you see, we know Geoffrey Majoribanks. You can’t make a profit like that out of one of your friends.”

  “But if you’d bought the table, you would have. Twist it about as you please – you would have paid for that table with money which you contend was morally his. I don’t agree with your contention. I think the thousand was yours. And I don’t believe that he will accept your cheque. But that is beside the point. Feeling as you do, every time you sat down at that table your conscience would have recited the debt that you owed your friend.”

  “I wonder,” said I, thoughtfully.

  “I don’t,” said Perdita. “I know. It’s as plain as the nose on your face. If you could focus, you’d see it as clearly as I. But your mind’s eye is out of focus – thanks to the punch which you got from the auctioneer’s cle
rk. Of course, that man is a fool. To tell you you’d lost by one bid was a brutal act. And now, while that medicine’s working, let’s talk about something else.”

  “There was once a physician,” said I, “with eyebrows like Helen of Troy’s and a star in each of her eyes. Her mouth was made of red magic and had to be seen to be believed: and her hands were so small and so lovely that they were almost unfair. As for her legs—”

  “The first duty of a driver,” said Perdita, “is to keep his eyes on the road.”

  I sighed.

  “You’ve no right to be so distracting. On the way here I felt quite monkish.”

  “After all, Herrick took orders,” said Perdita Boyte. “Monkish,” I said severely. “A word that Robert Herrick couldn’t have spelt. I perceived the consolations of an ascetic life… charity in the sunshine and honesty in the breeze—”

  “Il penseroso,” murmured Perdita.

  “–the countryside a blowing benediction… But now that’s changed. The breeze is flirting, the sunshine is debonair, the countryside is enchanted – and you’re to blame.”

  “I?”

  “You,” I shouted. “You with your eager air and the flash of your smile. You with your rosy—”

  “Hush,” bubbled Perdita, “hush.” She laid a slim hand on my sleeve. “I’m sure those people heard you. I saw them—”

  “I’m better already,” I said, and glanced at her hand. “If we could stay like this for the rest of the way…”

  An hour and a quarter later we saw White Ladies aglow in the evening sun…

  As I brought the Rolls to rest, Berry burst out of the house with the Knave at his heels.

  “Read that,” he commanded, “and then get out of the car and go down on your knees.”

  ‘That’ was an open letter.

  Miss Boyte and I read it together – with bated breath.

  My dear Berry,

  I return herewith the cheque for one thousand pounds which it was just like you to send. I’ve made a heap out of the sale and am only too delighted that you should be up on your deal. Thank God you missed that table. You needn’t spread it abroad, but that table was made to my order in 1912. And it cost me thirty-five pounds. I still have the receipt.

  Yours ever,

  GEOFFREY MAJORIBANKS.

  “Stench knew,” said Berry quietly. “And what of the sage who commended the ruling of a baboon?”

  3

  How Berry Prophesied Evil,

  and the Knave Purged His Contempt

  “If you ask me,” said Berry, “we’re doomed,” and, with that, he drank up his cocktail and lighted a cigarette.

  “When,” said I, “do you put the date of our, er, dissolution?”

  “Any moment now,” said Berry, cheerfully. “‘Thus far and no further,’ says Nature, and we’re well over the line.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” said Daphne.

  “My dear,” said her husband, “we can’t go on like this. Nobody can. The whole world’s luxury-mad. Besides, History repeats itself.”

  “You mean,” said Perdita, “we’re over-civilized?”

  “Highly,” said Berry. “Just as the Romans were. And as they went, we shall go. You see.”

  “How did they go?” said Jill.

  “I can’t remember,” said Berry. “I think they were overrun.”

  Jonah looked up.

  “No reincarnations just then?”

  “Unhappily, no,” said Berry. “I was a proconsul in the time of Caligula, and the last thing that I remember was lying on a bed of Turkish sponges in a hot, rose-water bath full of lily-buds, eating olives stuffed with caviare, while a Grecian artist was painting a fable of Aesop on each of my fingernails. That was the fashion just then. My next reincarnation was very brief. When I recovered consciousness, I was wearing a pig-skin loin-cloth and standing on a frozen swamp, trying to explain to Attila. That was as far as anyone ever got with Attila – a most impatient man. After that, I became a giantess at Barcelona.”

  “From what you say,” bubbled Perdita, “it seems that we shall survive.”

  “Indubitably,” said Berry. “But we’ll never be so comfortable again. At least not for thousands of years. After the crash one goes back to the primitive state. Think of eating stewed eagle in a cave, listening to the wolves outside and arguing as to who ought to have brought the baby in.”

  “I wish you’d be quiet,” said Daphne uneasily. “I can’t think where you get these disgusting ideas.”

  The comparison was certainly odious.

  The glorious voluntary of sundown had sped to its rest another magnificent day, and we were at ease upon the terrace, bathed and changed and right-minded, waiting to be summoned to a dinner which we proposed to enjoy. Before us, the old-world garden rested the eye: behind us, the comfortable mansion assured an immediate future of peace and luxury: we breathed the air of contentment – as well we might.

  “And another thing,” said Berry. “We’re growing Babelish. And if that isn’t asking for trouble, I don’t know what is.”

  “What’s Babelish?”

  “Building Towers of Babel,” said Berry. “Playing the fool with science. Swimming baths in liners and wireless in cars. Paying a film-star child ten times as much a year as a High Court Judge. Well, that sort of thing’s offensive.”

  “I entirely agree,” said Jonah. “But what d’you suggest we should do?”

  “Live for today,” said Berry. “There’s nothing else to be done. One sucking-pig couldn’t stop the Gadarene swine. When I was a Vestal Virgin—”

  “That’s more than enough,” said Daphne. “First, you spoil our appetites and then—”

  “On the contrary,” said her husband. “I was a very Dorcas in a naughty world. They used to call me Nesta the Nonsuch: and after my death a cesspool was sunk in my memory, close to the Appian Way.”

  “Thank you very much,” said Daphne, shakily. “And now, if you’ve quite finished, supposing we talk about tomorrow – on the chance that it comes. I simply must go to Velvet, to see Aunt Elise. Jonah is going to take me, so count us out. And Perdita says she’s no wishes. So—”

  “May I take that back?” said Perdita.

  “Of course,” said everyone.

  My lady regarded her elegant fingertips.

  “I knew there was something,” she said, “but when you asked me just now, I couldn’t think what it was. And then Berry reminded me – by something he said… I want to see a survival – a living, moving picture, made in the Middle Ages, and showing at Salisbury last week. Mother and I heard the trumpets, whilst we were deep in a shop. Later we asked the chauffeur what the fanfare had meant. And he said The Red Judge had gone by in his fine glass coach, with his coachman wearing a wig and his footmen standing on the tail-board. He was going from the Court to his Lodging in the Cathedral Close… You probably know it so well that it’s nothing to you: but since then I’ve read it up, and I’d love to see the pageant that Cromwell was petitioned to stop.”

  “So you shall,” cried Berry, and smacked the arm of his chair. “There’s nothing doing tomorrow, because it’s Sunday, but on Monday, at Brooch, the Summer Assize will be opened by Peppery Joe – one of the strongest Judges that ever sat up on a Bench. Mr Justice Scarlet, to give him his proper name. It was he you just missed at Salisbury. His temper’s said to be short, but he knows how to try a case, and he has the finest presence I ever saw.”

  “Shall you ever forget,” said Jonah, “his sending down ‘Silver’ Gilt?”

  “Never,” said Berry. “I wouldn’t have missed it for worlds.”

  “What happened?” said Jill.

  Berry sat back in his chair.

  “They’d been after Gilt for ages, and they got him at last for robbery under arms. That must be twelve years ago. He stood his trial at Brooch, and Peppery Joe was the Judge. Gilt was most brilliantly defended and I think he would have got off – with a weaker Judge. But Peppery Joe had his measure, and Peppery
Joe was determined to send him down. His summing-up was deadly, and the case was as good as over before the jury retired.

  “Now, when a man’s found guilty, before the Judge passes sentence, the prisoner is always asked if he has anything to say. When the usual question was put, ‘Silver’ Gilt looked at the Judge.

  “‘I’ll give you a tip,’ he said slowly. ‘The longer you make my sentence, the longer you’ll have to live.’

  “The threat was ugly enough, but the look in his eyes as he made it – I give you my word, it made my blood run cold. But Peppery Joe never blinked.

  “‘So be it,’ he said quietly. ‘Let’s both have fifteen years.’”

  “Then he isn’t out yet?” said Jill.

  Berry shrugged his shoulders.

  “He should be soon. If he behaves himself, they’ll let him off two or three years. But in fact that kind of threat is never redeemed. After a while the iron in the soul grows cold.”

  There was a little silence, and a great owl swooped from a cedar across the breadth of the lawn.

  “He’s early tonight,” said Jonah. “It’s usually just after dinner he makes that move.”

  “Well, Brooch on Monday,” said I, “to see The Red Judge. What do we do tomorrow?”

  “Nothing,” said Perdita swiftly. “It’s lovely here. In the afternoon, perhaps, if anyone wants a drive…”

  “We’ll take our tea,” said Jill, “and show her The Long Lane.”

  “That has no turning?” said Perdita.

  “Not so much as a bend,” said I, “for nearly three statute miles. Hence its name.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe you,” said Perdita.

  “Strange as it may seem,” said Berry, “for once he is telling the truth. It’s a bit of a Roman road – a bit that was bypassed hundreds of years ago. It’s linked up now, of course, but it serves no particular place, so it’s little used. One day the char-à-bancs will find it, and the glory which departed with the legions will come again – in the shape of concertinas and paper bags and all the other emblems of social majesty. But at present it’s dull, and birds presume to sing there, and I have seen a horse go by with a man on his back.”