Brother of Daphne

by Dornford Yates

  “I see – at least, I don’t, and that’s the trouble. However—”

  I felt over the balcony again. No good.

  “Where did mademoiselle sit, monsieur?”

  “Where are you?”

  I groped in the direction of the whisper and found an arm.

  “In that chair there,” I said, guiding her to it.

  “Here, monsieur?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  I heard her hands groping about the chair and turned to try the floor on the other side again.

  “I have it, monsieur.”

  “Well,” said I, “I could have sworn I’d felt everywhere round that chair.”

  She chinked the bag by way of answer.

  “Anyway, we’ve got it,” said I. “Come on.” And I made for the door. Then I stopped to take one more look at the great house. As I did so, a woman appeared on the far side of the stalls. She paused for a second to glance at herself in a mirror immediately under the solitary electric light. I recognised Yvonne. Then she passed on.

  Neither of us spoke for a moment. Then:

  “Why did you say you were Yvonne?” said I.

  “Yvonne is my name, too.”

  “Were you afraid I might have a lucid interval?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Your fears are realised. I have – I’m having one now.”

  “How awful!”

  “Isn’t it? And now we’ve found your bag, would you mind if I looked for something else?”

  “Something of yours or mine?”

  “Something of yours?”

  “Can I help you?” she said slowly.

  “Materially.”

  With a little half laugh, half sob, a warm arm slid round my neck.

  “Here they are!” she whispered.

  Madame would not let us go till Yvonne had returned from the manager’s office with the offer of a box for Thursday.

  “So it is not ‘Goodbye’ and you will come and see me again. I sing then for the last time in Munich. I fear you cannot have your own box, though. The Regent is coming that night. It is too bad.”

  We laughed and bade her farewell.

  As the car slowed down at my companion’s hotel, the footman slid off the front seat and opened the door. I got up and out of the car. As I turned, I saw the girl pick up her gloves and leave the precious bag on the seat.

  “My dear, your bag—”

  But, as she got out, the bag left the seat with her. By the lights in the car I saw that it was attached to a chain about her neck; and the chain lay beneath her dress.

  I handed her out thoughtfully.

  “Till Thursday, then,” she said.

  “Till tomorrow morning,” said I.

  She laughed.

  “I think there ought to be an interval.”

  “Isn’t that just what I’m saying? What about a luncheon interval tomorrow?”

  “Well, it mustn’t be a lucid one.”

  “All right. I’ll bring Jonah and Daphne.”

  “Mayn’t I see the mistake?”

  “If I can find him.”

  “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye. I say—”

  She turned, one small foot on the steps.

  “I love your feet,” I said.

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Do you always unfasten that chain and take off the bag when you go to the theatre?”

  She looked down at the little foot in its shining shoe. Then:

  “Only on third Tuesdays,” she said.

  When I reached my hotel, I passed quickly upstairs to the sitting-room.

  “Here he is,” said Daphne. “Come along, darling, and have some supper, and tell us all about it.”

  “Supper!” said Berry. “Woman, you forget yourself. You are no longer on the joy wheel. My lord has dined.”

  “As a matter of fact, I have,” said I. “Madame gave me some dinner at the Opera House.”

  “Of course,” said Berry. “What did I say? We grovelling worms can gnaw our sandwiches the while he cracks bottles of – champagne, was it?”

  I nodded.

  Berry rose to his feet, and in a voice broken with emotion, called such shades of his ancestors “as are on night duty” to witness.

  “Hencefifth,” he said, “I intend to lead a wicked life.”

  “Blackpool – Conservative; no change,” said Jonah.

  Berry ignored the interruption.

  “Virtue may have its own cakes and ale. I dare say it has. What of it? I never see any of them. Vice is more generous. Its patrons actually wallow in champagne. For me, the most beastly sandwiches I ever ate, and an expensive stall. For him, dinner with the prima donna and the Royal box. By the way, who did the girl mistake you for? One of the attendants or the business manager?”

  “Who was she?” said Jill.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Rot!” said Jonah.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “She looked rather a dear,” said Daphne.

  “She is. You’ll meet her tomorrow. And Berry – she wants to meet Berry. She said so.”

  “There you are,” said my brother-in-law. “Is my tie straight?”

  I lighted a cigarette to conceal a smile.

  14: A Private View

  When I had adjusted the cushions, I sank into the chair and sighed.

  “What’s that for?” said Daphne

  “Sin,” said I.

  “Whose?”

  “That of him who packed for me at the Blairs this morning. A sin of omission rather than commission, though he did put my sponge bag into my collar case,” I added musingly. “They’re both round, you see. Still, I pass that by.”

  “But what do you really complain of?” said Jill.

  “He’s left my dressing-gown out.”

  “I expect he thought it was a loose cover,” said Jonah.

  “It’ll be sent on all right,” said Daphne. “That’s nothing. What about my fan? You’re not a bit sorry for me about that.”

  “I have already been sorry about it. I was sorry for you on Friday just by the sideboard. I remember it perfectly. All the same, if you will waste Berry’s substance at places of entertainment in the West End, and then fling a priceless heirloom down in the hall of the theatre, you mustn’t be surprised if some flat-footed seeker after pleasure treads on it.”

  “He was a very nice man, and his feet weren’t a bit flat.”

  “I believe you did it on purpose to get into conversation with him. Where’s Berry?”

  At that moment the gentleman in question walked across the lawn towards us.

  “Thank Heaven!” he said when he saw me. “I’m so glad you’re back. I’ve run out of your cigarettes.”

  I handed him my case in silence.

  “It’s curious,” he said, “how used one can get to inferior tobacco.”

  Tea appeared in serial form. After depositing the three-storied cake dish holder – or whatever the thing is called – with a to-be-completed air, the footman disappeared, to return a moment later with the teapot and hot water. As he turned to go:

  “Bring me the tray that’s on the billiard table,” said Berry. “Carry it carefully.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Without moving, we all observed one another, the eyes looking sideways. You see, the tray bore a jigsaw. When I had left on the previous Saturday for a weekend visit, we had done the top right hand corner and half what looked as if it must be the left side. Most of this we had done on Friday evening; but artificial light is inclined to militate against the labourer, and at eleven o’clock Berry had sworn twice, shown us which pieces were missing, and related the true history of poor Agatha Glynde, who spent more than a fortnight over ‘David Copperfield’ before she found out that the pieces had been mixed up with those of Constable’s ‘Hay Wain.’ This upset us so much that Jonah said he should try and get a question asked in the House about it, and we decided to send the thing back the next day and d
emand the return of the money.

  On the way up to bed, Daphne had asked me if I thought we could get “damages, or compensation, or something,” and I had replied that, if we could prove malice, they had undoubtedly brought themselves within the pale of the criminal law. The next morning Jill had done nearly two more square inches before breakfast, and I missed the midday train to town.

  “Hullo, you have got on!” I said, as the man set the tray and its precious burden gingerly on the grass in our midst.

  “Aha, my friend,” said Berry, “I thought you’d sit up! Yes, sir, the tract already developed represents no less an area than thirty-six square inches – coldly calculated by me this afternoon during that fair hour which succeeds the sleep of repletion and the just – but the vast possibilities which lie hidden beneath the surface of the undeveloped expanse of picture are almost frightening. A land rich in minerals, teeming with virgin soil – a very Canaan of today. Does it not call you, brother?”

  “It does,” said I. “I wish it didn’t, because it’s a wicked waste of time, but it does.”

  I kneeled down that I might the better appreciate their industry. The jigsaw was called ‘A Young Diana’ and was alleged to be a reproduction of the picture of that name which had appeared in the Academy the year before. I hardly remembered it. I gazed admiringly at the two clouds drifting alone at the top right-hand corner, the solitary hoof planted upon a slice of green sward, the ragged suggestion of forest land in the distance, and a ladder of enormous length, which appeared to possess something of that spirit of independence which distinguished Mahomet’s coffin. In other words, it was self-supporting. After a careful scrutiny, I rose to my feet, took a pace or two backwards, and put my head on one side. Then:

  “I like it,” I said. “I like it. Some people might say it looked a little crude or unfinished; but, to my mind, that but preserves, as it were, the spirit of barbarism which the title suggests.”

  “Suggestion as opposed to realisation,” said Berry, “is the rule by which we work. To the jaded appet – imagination the hoof suggests a horse. It is up to you to imagine the horse. We have, as it were, with an effort set in motion the long unused machinery of your brain. It is for you, brother, to carry on the good work. Please pass out quietly. There will be collection plates at both doors.”

  “You’re not to touch it yet,” said Daphne. “I want to talk about abroad first. If we’re really going, we must settle things.”

  “Of course we’re going,” said Berry. “I ordered a yachting cap yesterday.”

  “What’s that for?” said Jill.

  “Well, we’re not going to fly across the Channel, are we? Besides that, supposing we go to Lucerne part of the time?”

  “What about taking the car?” said Daphne.

  “It’s expensive,” said Berry moodily, “but I don’t see how else we can satisfactorily sustain the flow of bloated plutocracy which at present oozes from us.”

  We all agreed that the car must come.

  Then arose the burning question of where to go. In a rash moment Jill murmured something about Montenegro.

  “Montenegro?” said Berry, with a carelessness that should have put her on her guard.

  “Yes,” said Jill. “I heard someone talking about it when I was dining with the Bedells. It sounded priceless. I had a sort of idea it was quite small, and had a prince, but it’s really quite big, and it’s got a king over it, and they all wear the old picturesque dress, and the scenery’s gorgeous. And, if it was wet, we could go to the – the—”

  “Kursaal,” said Berry.

  “No, not Kursaal. It’s like that, though.”

  “Casino?”

  “That’s it – Casino. And then we could go on to Nice and Cannes, and—”

  “You’re going too fast, aren’t you? Servia comes before Cannes, doesn’t it?”

  “Well, Servia, too.”

  “All right,” said Berry. “I was going to suggest that we joined the Danube at Limoges, went up as far as Milan, where the falls are, and then struck off to Toledo, taking Warsaw on the way, but—”

  “That’d be rather a long way round, wouldn’t it?” said Jill, all seriousness in her grey eyes.

  “Ah, I mean the Spanish Toledo, not the one in the States.”

  “Oh, I s–” She checked herself suddenly and looked round. “He’s laughing at me,” she said. “What have I said wrong?”

  “If anyone asked me where we should be without our Jill,” said Berry, “I couldn’t tell them.”

  When we began to discuss the tour in good earnest, the argument proper began. I had suggested that we should make for Frankfort, to start with, and Daphne and Jonah rather favoured Germany. Berry, however, wanted to go to Austria. It was after a casual enough remark of Jonah’s that the roads in Germany were very good that Berry really got going.

  “The roads good?” he said. “That settles it – say no more. The survey, which is, after all, the object of our holiday (sic), will be able to be made with success. If we start at once, we shall be able to get the book published by Christmas: ‘Road Surfaces in Germany,’ by a Hog.”

  “The old German towns are fascinating,” said Daphne.

  “Nothing like them,” said Berry. “I can smell some of them now. Can you not hear the cheerful din of the iron tires upon the cobbled streets? Can you not see the grateful smile spreading over the beer-sodden features of the cathedral verger, as he pockets the money we pay for the privilege of following an objectionable rabble round an edifice, which we shall remember more for the biting chill of its atmosphere than anything else? And then the musty quiet of the museums, and the miles we shall cover in the picture galleries, halting now and then to do a brief gloat in front of one of Van Stunk’s masterpieces… My heart leaps up when I behold a Van Stunk on the wall. Wordsworth knew his Englishman, didn’t he?”

  “Oh, well, if you’re so dead against it—”

  “Against it, dear. How can I be against it? Why, we may even be arrested as spies! There” – he looked round triumphantly – “who shall say that the age of romance is dead? Let us go forth and languish in a German gaol. Think of the notices we shall get in the papers! We’ll give our photographs to The Daily Glass before we start. I expect we shall see one another in the chapel on Sundays, and I shall write to you in blood every day, darling, on a piece of my mattress. The letters will always be in the top left-hand corner of the steak pudding. Don’t say I didn’t tell you where to look.”

  “We shall be able to talk,” said I – “by rapping on the wall, I mean.”

  “Certainly. Once for the letter A, twice for the chambermaid, three times for the boots. In the meantime, Jonah and you will each have removed a large stone from the floor of your cells by means of a nail which he found in his soup. Say you work sixteen hours out of the twenty-four you ought to have burrowed outside the gates in about five years.”

  Jill shuddered.

  “Austria would be rather nice, just now, wouldn’t it?” she ventured.

  “We could go high up if it got hot, of course,” said Daphne slowly, “and the air’s nice—”

  “I’ll find out what we do about shipping the car on Friday,” said Berry.

  I must have been tired, for I never heard the tea things taken away. When I opened my eyes, Berry and Co. had gone. I looked at the jigsaw and began to wonder what had waked me.

  “First of all,” said a quiet voice, “I take five and three-quarters. Do you think you can remember that?”

  “I’ll try. Long ones, of course.”

  “Yes, please. Not the ordinary white kid: I like the fawn suède ones.”

  “With pleasure.”

  “And now, please, can I be shown over the house?”

  I turned and regarded her. Sitting easily in a chair to my right, and a little behind me, she was holding out to me a slip of paper. I took it mechanically but I did not look at it.

  “Don’t move for a minute or two,” I said. “You look absolute
ly splendid like that.”

  She smiled. I rather think her frock was of linen – at any rate, it was blue. Her large straw hat was blue, too, and so were her smart French gloves and her dainty shoes; her ankles were very pretty, but her complexion was the thing. She had one of the clearest skins I have ever seen, and the delicate bloom of her cheeks was a wonder in itself. I could not well see her eyes, for she was sitting with her head thrown back – her gloved right hand behind it holding down the brim of her hat – and as she was looking at me and not up into the sky, they were almost hidden by their lids. Her left arm lay carelessly along the arm of the chair, and, her sleeve being loose and open, I could see half a dozen inches of warm pink arm. I just looked at her.

  “Done?” she said.

  “Not quite.”

  I have said before, and I say again, that girls of this type ought not to be allowed to raise their eyebrows and smile faintly at the same moment. It amounts to a technical assault. I fancy she saw me set my teeth, for the next moment she put up her left hand and bent the broad blue rim over her face.

  “Early closing day,” she said. I contemplated her ankles in silence. After a minute:

  “Well?” said my companion from behind the brim.

  “I hate it when the blinds are down,” said I, “but—”

  “But what?”

  “Happily, they are only short blinds. In other words, just as the ostrich, when pursued, is said to thrust its head into the sand, believing—”

  “And now please can I be shown over the house?”

  I glanced at the order-to-view which she had handed me. It referred to The Grange, which stood in its own grounds about half a mile away. Its lodge gates were rather like ours. The same mistake had been made before.

  “The agent at Bettshanger gave me that today, and I motored over this afternoon. The car’s outside. I was walking up the drive – how pretty it all is! – when I saw you asleep here. I suppose I ought to have gone up to the house really, but it looked so nice and cool here that I came and sat down instead and waited for you to wake.”

  “I’m so glad you did.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, you see, they’re rather a queer lot up there at the house – might have said you couldn’t see over, or something.”