Berry Scene

by Dornford Yates

  “When he heard me say, ‘Drive to Christie’s,’ he quietened down. You see, he thought he was home. He was fairly hugging himself, as he followed me up the steps. I asked to see —. When he came, I asked him if he had been selling yesterday afternoon. He said yes. ‘Then will you tell this gentleman whether or no it was I that purchased a picture-clock.’ ‘It wasn’t you,’ says —. ‘In fact, I don’t think you were there.’ ‘And you didn’t bid for me?’ ‘Certainly not.’ I turned to Coker. ‘Is that good enough?’ I said. He looked from — to me and savaged his thumb. ‘You’re B Pleydell,’ he said, ‘of thirty-eight Cholmondeley Street.’ I nodded. ‘And you didn’t buy that clock?’ ‘I’ve been telling you so,’ I said, ‘for half an hour.’ ‘Then there’s dirty work somewhere,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to begin again.’ With that, he started on —, and I slipped down the stairs and drove to the Stores. I tell you, I was taking no chances. When I was sure I’d lost him, I left by another door and took a taxi here. And now what?”

  “Don’t ask me,” said I. “If you can’t beat him, I can’t.”

  “If he comes back,” said Berry, “you’ll have to hand Bughaven over. And if you take my advice, you’ll do it at once.”

  I’m damned if I will,” said I. “Besides, it’s broken up. The clock and the picture are parted – they’re being severally cleaned.”

  “That won’t stop Coker,” said Berry. “If you gave it to the British Museum, he’d have it out.”

  “Well, we go out of Town on Friday.”

  “I know. And the moment he sees White Ladies, he’ll want that, too.”

  We had been at White Ladies a week, and I was sitting at Riding Hood, under some limes, waiting to pick up Berry, who was upon the Bench. After another five minutes, I left the car and made my way quietly into the little court.

  Berry was in the Chair, and a Chinaman stood in the dock.

  “You say you’re a seaman?” said Berry.

  The prisoner inclined his head.

  “How do you come to be here?”

  “I wished for the country, sir, before I signed on again.”

  “Do you mean to return to China?”

  “Yes, sir. I beg that you will beat me and let me go.”

  Berry frowned.

  “Because you’re a stranger,” he said, “the charge has been reduced to one of common assault. Had you been English, you would have been sent for trial on a much more serious charge. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “To draw a knife on a man is a very serious thing.”

  “I lose my temper, because he has insulted the bold.”

  “An insult is no excuse for trying to take his life. But you are a stranger and a seaman. If you were a landsman and English, we should send you to prison for six months.”

  “I am very sorry, sir.”

  “As it is, we shall only send you to prison for six weeks, with hard labour.”

  The Chinaman clung to the dock.

  “Beat me, my lord, beat me – and let me go.”

  “I have no power to have you beaten.”

  “But prison – no.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Berry. “But you have done something which we have not the right to pass. We’re being very lenient. When you come out, the police will help you to get a ship.”

  The man bowed his head. As the jailer touched his arm, he let out a terrible cry.

  “The bold, the bold!”

  Berry looked round.

  “What does he mean?” he demanded. “Who are the bold?”

  An Inspector of Police stood up.

  “I think it’s his puppy, sir. We’ve got it outside.”

  Berry looked at the prisoner.

  “Is The Bold your dog?”

  The Chinaman bowed his head.

  “I am his servant,” he said. “The blood is royal.”

  There was a little silence, while Berry fingered his chin.

  Then—

  “I begin to see daylight,” he said. “Bring the dog in.”

  One minute later, the most perfect Pekingese puppy I ever saw stood upon the solicitors’ table, looking imperiously round. He was very small, because he was very young; but a full-grown mastiff had not his dignity. Strange as were his surroundings, he knew no fear. His little head was up, and his tiny tail was lying along his spine. His hair was not in – he was furry. He looked like something a woman might have worn at her throat. Richer, I think, than sable: but rather more grey.

  “Let him go to him,” said Berry.

  The prisoner left the dock and stepped to the puppy’s side. Then he spoke to him in Chinese, as though indeed he were his equerry.

  When he had done, the puppy surveyed him proudly and put out a tiny paw. The other bowed his head and it touched his brow with its tongue. But the tail never moved.

  “Listen,” said Berry. “Your trouble is that you don’t want to leave The Bold?”

  The Chinaman looked at him and inclined his head.

  “While you are in prison,” said Berry, “he shall be lodged in my house. He shall be fed and cared for in every way. When you come out, he will be ready and waiting to sail to China with you. Tell him what I have said in your own tongue.”

  The prisoner addressed the puppy – rather as his adviser addresses a King.

  When he had done, he stood back.

  “Thank you, my lord,” he said quietly. “Now I will go.”

  As the door closed behind him, Berry nodded to me and got to his feet. As he left the Bench, I moved to the table and picked the puppy up.

  “Has he eaten?” I asked the Inspector.

  “Not a bite, sir. He won’t take nothing from us. He’s a proud little dog – stares you down, you know. An’ clean as clean. An’ he can’t be more than two months. He’s had a little water.”

  “He’s no ordinary dog,” said I. “If a Chinaman says he’s royal, he probably is.”

  “What, a dog o’ royal blood, sir?”

  “That’s right. It’s a terribly ancient breed.”

  “Soun’s like a fairy-tale, sir.”

  “So it does,” said I. “But I think it’s probably fact.”

  As we settled ourselves in the car—

  “What else could I do?” said Berry. “He damned near did wilful murder for love of this scrap. Saw red, of course. But you can’t pass things like that.”

  “I think,” said I, “he’s extremely fortunate.”

  “I don’t know about that. You see, British Justice is very rightly renowned. And when we have an alien before us, I always bear that in mind. If he’s a swine, he gets more than an Englishman – why should he come over here to do his dirt? But if he’s a decent bloke, he receives consideration, so that when he goes back to his country, he’ll always speak well of us. I admit it’s not in the Manual, but I think it’s common sense. And what do we feed him on? Goat’s flesh, seethed in sour milk, or rotten fish? They eat such filth in China that what the scraps can be like, I tremble to think.”

  “Bread and milk,” said I. “And a little raw meat. He wants building up. And mind what you say of his country. He’s most intelligent.”

  Berry regarded the puppy, snug in the crook of his arm.

  “Daphne,” he said, “will never let him out of her sight. You must be a good dog, The Bold, and we’ll be good dogs to you. A very fine lady is going to be your friend. One of your rank, you know. But you mustn’t look down on us, for we have our points. And mind you’re civil to the servants.” He turned to me. “You might have a word with Nobby. I know he’ll be full of goodwill, but he’s rather impetuous. I mean, this’ll be a new one on him.”

  “I’ll see to that,” said I. “He’ll be all right, as soon as he knows the facts.”

  “Well, do be ready,” said Berry. “When you’ve been away for ten minutes, he has a bewitching habit of leaping into the car and of climbing all over my face in order to get at yours. If he does that today, and uses The Bold as a foothold
…”

  He need have had no concern.

  As the Rolls stole up the drive, I saw at a glance that my Sealyham was deeply engaged.

  He was standing square on the gravel, with his tail well over his back and his eyes on the door of a green all-weather coupé, berthed by the side of the lawn. His demeanour was eloquent.

  Framed in the coupé’s window were the head and shoulders of a man I had never seen. He was wearing a circular hat and his face was red. But I knew who it was before Berry spoke his name.

  “And this,” said the latter, “is where I leave the tram. Nobby’s got him where he belongs. You can make all things clear and then take your leave. He’ll have to go – or spend the night in the drive.”

  I stopped, and he left the Rolls. Then I drove slowly on, until I was abreast of the captive, till then unaware that he was no longer alone.

  “Get this darned dog away,” he yelped. “I wanner get out.”

  Nobby looked at me, and my lips framed the words ‘Good dog.’ Thus reassured, he lowered his chin to his toes and let out a bark.

  “Mr Falk,” I said, “you’re only wasting your time.”

  “Get that dog away, and I guess I’ll change your outlook. Before I’m through, sonny, you’re going to be born again. I told your senior he couldn’t faze Coker Falk. I won’t say he hasn’t edged me, because he has. And I don’t think much of his Club. All cops and corner bums, as far as I saw. But you can’t side-track a land-slide. An’ when Coker Falk says ‘Mine’, wise guys throw in their hands. What d’you want for the honey, Mister? Don’t be afraid.”

  “Look here,” said I. “I don’t know how long you’re prepared to stay in that car, but my dog is prepared to watch it until it leaves. Make it forty-eight hours if you like – it won’t faze him.”

  “See here. You get him away.”

  I shook my head.

  “He’s serving my turn,” I said. “This interview is not of my seeking and I have no time to spare. Please get this once for all – the picture-clock is not here and is not for sale.”

  “See here, Junior, when Coker Falk wants what’s his, it’s quicker to have a war than to stand him down. If your cops knew their job, they wouldn’ o’ held me at Chiswick an’ let you take that gadget out of my jaws. An’ when a guy does that, as soon as he sees his error, he puts it back. That’s Chunkit’s way, Buddy, but maybe Chunkit’s ahead. So Coker Falk’s buying you out. You move the hound, an’ I’ll—”

  “By pursuing the matter,” said I, “you’re throwing away a chance which will never occur again.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Tomorrow evening an exhibition will close, and its famous works of art will be dispersed. They are for sale – at a price. The price may be more than you are prepared to pay—”

  “See here, Junior, if Coker Falk—”

  “—but if they don’t shake Chunkit up, then nothing will. More. They’re the latest thing. I was there with two ladies of title, a week ago: and they had seen nothing like them – they said so, in so many words. And one has a room full of van Dycks; so she ought to know.”

  “Name, please,” said Mr Falk, notebook in hand.

  “Adela, Countess of Churt.”

  The name went down.

  “There’s a glorious study there, Beyond the Mules. Or if that’s sold, there’s another, called Slender Thought. They’re more than I can afford, but—”

  “What’s the address?”

  I gave the gallery’s name and got out of the Rolls.

  “Slender Thought and Beyond the Mules,” repeated Mr Falk. He put his note-book away. “Now let me out of this car.”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s my last word, Mr Falk. I’ve given you the low-down on those pictures. I’ve told you what Lady Churt thinks. If Chunkit knows better than she does, then let them go. But don’t blame me if, before we’re very much older, you see Beyond the Mules on some well-known gallery’s walls.”

  With that, I made much of Nobby and entered the house, while Mr Falk, in a foaming diatribe, compared British hospitality unfavourably with that of the United States.

  Five minutes later, I heard the coupé leave…

  As I appeared upon the terrace, my sister sat back on her heels.

  “I suppose it’s real,” she said. “I mean, when we wake tomorrow it won’t be gone.”

  The Bold was standing still at the head of the terrace steps, surveying his present dominion with the dignity of a lion. He resembled a little image that stands on a mantelpiece.

  I bent my head to Nobby, under my arm.

  “There he is,” I whispered. “You see, he’s very small, and, although he covers it up, I think he must feel very strange. So be gentle with him, old fellow.”

  Nobby put up his muzzle and licked my face.

  The Bold descended the steps, as best he could. Happily, they were shallow; but I am inclined to think that they were the first he had used. But they had to be traversed, if he was to reach the grass – and The Bold knew how to behave.

  I let him prove the lawn. Then I put Nobby down…

  The meeting was well timed, for The Bold had just found that the lawn was uncomfortably big. After all, he was very tiny, and the sward must have seemed immense. Be that as it may, for the first time his tail went down, and he stood, a forlorn little figure, awed by his giant surroundings and plainly not at all sure of the way he had come. And then he turned to see Nobby, two paces away.

  In a flash his tail was up and he faced the Sealyham squarely, as though he knew no fear. Nobby moved his tail and lay down – and The Bold came stumbling towards him and lay down, too.

  So they played upon the lawn together, Nobby suffering him, and The Bold no longer a prince, but an urchin boy.

  But when, later on, we went in to dress for dinner, Nobby stood still and The Bold stepped in before him, chin in air.

  Indeed, as long as he was with us, he always took pride of place – and Nobby accepted this and always gave him the wall. He would sway his tail for the servants, but never for us. But with us he would be familiar; with us he would play and bicker; from us he would take his orders – often enough with a high and mighty air; and Daphne was his goddess – for her he would turn on his back and wave his paws in the air. And when she picked him up, he would sob with content. After all, he was very tiny and very young.

  As we took our seats at table—

  “And now,” said my sister, “about this awful man. What have you done with him?”

  “He’s gone for the moment,” said I. “But I’m not sure he won’t come back.”

  “Of course he’ll come back,” said Berry. “He’s Coker Falk. What’s yours is his, and he wants what he wants when he wants it – and that’s right now. Mind you get that, Sugar, and get it good. When Coker Falk says ‘See here’, wise guys go into the wash-room and lock the door.”

  “Oh, do be quiet,” said Daphne.

  “That’s nothing at all,” said Berry. “That’s Tallis’ Responses, compared with Coker Falk. After five minutes with him, your nerves are flayed.”

  “Go on, Boy,” said my sister. “How did you drive him away?”

  “I put him on to those very beautiful pictures we saw ten days ago. I suggested that, if he really wanted to blind Chunkit – for that, I assume, is the idea – he couldn’t do better than show it Beyond The Mules. I took Lady Churt’s name in vain, and that made him think.”

  “If he comes back,” said Berry, “you’ll have to give him the clock. We can’t go on like this. It’s bad for my heart.”

  “Nonsense,” said Daphne. “Just because—”

  “My sweet,” said Berry. “You’ve had no communion with Coker. Neither has Boy really, because today he was treed. But once let him get his hooks in, and after a little while you’ll give him what ever he asks. The tension he induces is so frightful, that you simply have to relieve it at any cost. How he’s escaped mutilation, I can’t conceive: if he’s persona grat
a at Chunkit, I tremble to think what life in that town can be like.”