HOW NOBBY MET BLUE BANDALA, AND ADÈLE GAVE JONAH A KISS.
"Listen to this," said Berry.
"_SIR_,--_Shortly before six o'clock this evening an extremely valuable
Chow, by name Blue Bandala, which I purchased last March for no less a
sum than six hundred pounds, was brutally attacked in Bilberry village
by a rough-haired mongrel, which was accompanying two girls. I am given
to understand that this animal belongs to you. I was at first determined
to issue a summons, but I have now decided to give you a chance before
doing so. If it amuses you to keep such a cur about your house, there is
nothing to prevent you from so doing. But you must understand that once
it leaves your property it must be under proper and effective control,
and if it ever attacks a dog of mine again, I shall either destroy it
upon the spot or apply to the Bench for its destruction. I may say that
Blue Bandala is not only very well bred, but a very quiet and friendly
dog, and was in no way to blame for what occurred._
_HERBERT BASON._
_B. PLEYDELL, White Ladies._"
The explosion which the reading of this letter provoked is
indescribable.
"It's a lie!" cried Jill in a choking voice. "It's a beastly lie. His
dog started it. Nobby would never have touched him. He wasn't paying any
attention. The Chow came up from behind and just fell upon him. And how
dare he say he's a mongrel? It's just one lie after another, isn't it,
Adèle?"
"It's outrageous," said Miss Feste. "Directly I saw the other dog I
thought he meant mischief, but before I could tell Jill, he'd started
in. Nobby didn't even know he was there."
The door opened, and dinner was announced.
"Falcon," said Berry.
"Sir," said the butler.
"Who brought this note?"
"It was a chauffeur, sir. I don't know 'im by sight, sir."
We filed out of the library, smouldering with resentment.
"But what an awful man he must be," said Daphne. "Even if our dog had
been in the wrong, that's no reason for writing a letter like that."
"It's unpardonable," said I. "It's quite bad enough to have him living
in the neighbourhood, but if this is the way he's going to behave...." I
turned to Adèle. "Was his manner very bad at the time?"
"He seemed more rattled than anything else. He was clearly afraid to
interfere. Jill and I got them apart, as I told you. He got very red in
the face, but beyond muttering with his teeth clenched, he never said a
word."
"Must have gone straight home and got it off his chest," said Jonah. "I
expect he's awfully proud of that letter, if the truth were known."
"Well, don't let's dwell on it," said Berry, regarding the oysters which
had been set before him. "After dinner will do. You hardly ever go down
with typhoid within six hours." He turned to Adèle. "Bet you I've got
more strepsicocci than you have," he added pleasantly.
"Shut up," said Daphne. "Adèle dear, d'you like oysters? Because, don't
you eat them if you don't."
"No, don't," said Berry. "If you don't, whatever you do, don't. And
whatever you don't, I will."
Adèle looked at him with a mischievous smile.
"I couldn't bear," she said, "to have your blood on my head."
Then she glanced gratefully at Daphne and picked up a fork.
Mr. Herbert Bason had arisen out of the cloud of War. The time had
produced the man. The storm had burst just in the nick of time to save
the drooping theatrical interests which he controlled, and the fruit
which these had borne steadily for the best part of five long years had
been truly phenomenal. A patriot to the backbone, the bewildered
proprietor obtained absolute exemption from the Tribunal, turned the
first six rows of all his pits into stalls, and bought War Loan with
both hands. It was after the second air-raid upon London that he decided
to take a house in the country.... Less than a year ago he had disposed
of his music-halls and had settled near Bilberry for good.
"By the way," said Daphne, "did I tell you? The laundry's struck."
"Thank you," said her husband, "for that phrase."
"Don't mention it," said my sister. "But I thought you'd like to know.
Heaven knows when they'll go back, so I should go easy with your stiff
collars and shirts."
"What, have the saws stopped working?" said Berry. "I can't bear it."
"What about my trousers?" said I. "I've only one clean pair left."
Daphne shrugged her white shoulders.
"What about my tablecloths?" she replied.
Berry addressed himself to Adèle.
"We live in pleasant times, do not we? Almost a golden age. I wonder
what the trouble is now. Probably some absent-minded _blanchisseuse_ has
gone and ironed twenty socks in ten minutes instead of ten socks in
twenty minutes, without thinking. And the management refuse to sack her
for this grievous lapse into the slough of pre-War Industry, out of
which a provident Trade Union has blackmailed her to climb."
"I've no doubt you're right," said I. "The question is, where are we
going to end? It's the same everywhere. And the mere thought of Income
Tax sends my temperature up."
"Ah," said Berry. "I had a quiet hour with the Book of the Words, issued
by that Fun Palace, Somerset House, this afternoon. _Income Tax, and How
to Pay it._ Commonly styled, with unconscious humour, The Income Tax
Return. By the time I was through I had made out that, if I render a
statement according to the printed instructions, my tax will exceed my
income by one hundred and forty-four pounds. If, on the other hand, I
make an incorrect return, I shall be fined fifty pounds and treble the
tax payable. You really don't get a look in."
"If you say much more," groaned Jonah, "you'll spoil my appetite. When I
reflect that in 1913 and a burst of piety I sent the Chancellor of the
Exchequer a postal order for eight and sixpence by way of Conscience
Money, I feel positively sick."
"Not piety," corrected my brother-in-law. "Drink. I remember you had
some very bad goes about then."
"What a terrible memory you have!" said Adèle. "I feel quite uneasy."
"Fear not, sweet one," was the reply. "Before I retail your
indiscretions I shall send you a list of them, with the price of
omission clearly marked against each in red ink. The writing will be all
blurred with my tears." Here Adèle declined a second vegetable. "There,
now. I've gone and frightened you. And marrow's wonderful for the spine.
Affords instant relief. And you needn't eat the seeds. Spit them over
your left shoulder. That'll bring you luck."
There was an outraged clamour of feminine protest.
"I won't have it," said Daphne. "Disgusting brute!"
"And that," said Jonah, "is the sodden mountebank who dares to cast a
stone into the limpid pool of my character. That is the overfed
sluggard----"
"Take this down, somebody," said Berry. "The words'll scorch up the
paper, but never mind. Record the blasphemy. Capital 'M' for
'mountebank.' 'Sluggard' with an 'H.' And I'm not overfed."
"You're getting fatter every day," said Jill, gurgling.
"That's right," said my brother-in-law. "Bay the old lion. And bring
down these grey hairs in----"
"Talking of mountebanks," said I, "who's going to Fallow Hill Fair?"
"Adèle ought to see it," said Daphne. "Why don't you run her over in the
car?"
"I will, if she'd like to go. It's a real bit of old England."
"I agree," said Berry. "What with the cocoa-nut shies and the steam
roundabouts, you'd think you were back in the Middle Ages. I think I'll
come, too."
"Then you go alone," said I. "I don't forget the last time you went."
"What happened?" said Adèle, her eyes lighted with expectation.
Berry sighed.
"It was most unfortunate," he said. "You see, it was like this. B-behind
a b-barrier there was a b-booth with a lot of b-bottles, at which you
were b-bothered to throw b-balls. If you b-broke three b-bottles----"
"This nervous alliteration," interposed Adèle, "is more than I can
b-bear."
"--you received a guerdon which you were encouraged to select from a
revolting collection of bric-a-brac which was displayed in all its glory
upon an adjacent stall. Laden with munitions, I advanced to the
rails.... Unhappily, in the excitement of the moment, I mistook my
objective.... It was a most natural error. Both were arranged in tiers,
both were pleading for destruction."
"Nonsense," said Daphne. "You did it on purpose. You know you did. I
never saw anything more deliberate in all my life."
"Not at all," replied her husband. "I was confused. A large and critical
crowd had collected to watch my prowess, and I was pardonably nervous."
"But what happened?" said Adèle.
"Well," said I, "naturally nobody was expecting such a move, with the
result that the brute got off about six balls before they could stop
him. The execution among the prizes was too awful. You see, they were
only about six feet away. The owner excepted, the assembled populace
thought it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen."
"Yes," chimed in Jill. "And then he turned round and asked the man how
many bottles he'd won."
"I never was so ashamed," said Daphne. "Of course the poor man was
nearly off his head."
"And I paid for the damage," said Jonah.
I looked across at Adèle.
"So, if he comes with us," I said, "you know what to expect."
My lady threw back her head and laughed.
"I suppose you're to be trusted," she said.
"Once past the pub," said Berry, "he'll be all right. But if he says he
feels faint outside the saloon-bar, don't argue with him, but come
straight home."
"At any rate," said Adèle, "I shall have Nobby."
The reference brought us back to Mr. Bason with a rush.
In spite of our resolution to eschew the subject, that gentleman's
letter was heatedly discussed for the remainder of dinner.
To-day was the third of September, and on the eleventh a dog-show was to
be held at Brooch. I had not entered Nobby, because I felt that his
exhibition would probably cause us more trouble than the proceeding was
worth. It now occurred to us that Mr. Bason would almost certainly
enter--had probably long ago entered his precious Chow. Any local
triumph, however petty and easy for a man of means to procure, would be
sure to appeal to one of his calibre, and the chance, which the show
would afford, of encountering, if not accosting, one or two County
people would be greatly to his relish. Supposing we did enter Nobby....
The idea of beating Mr. Bason in the race for first prize with the
"rough-haired mongrel" which "it amused us to keep about our house" was
most appealing.
As soon as dinner was over, Berry rang up the Secretary.
Our surmise was correct. Blue Bandala was entered.
"Well, am I too late to enter a Sealyham?"
"Not if you do it to-morrow," came the reply.
"You shall have the particulars before mid-day."
"Right-oh."
Berry replaced the receiver.
"Little Herbert will take the first prize for Chows," he said. "That
can't be helped. But he's entered his dog for the 'All Comers,' and
that's our chance. If we can't lift that goblet from under his ugly
nose, I'll never smile again."
"What exactly's 'All Comers'?" said Jill.
"The best all-round specimen of any breed. Manners,
carriage--everything's taken into consideration."
"If personality counts," said Jonah, "Nobby'll romp home."
I regarded our unconscious representative with an appraising eye. Supine
upon the sofa, with his head out of sight behind Adèle, there was little
to recommend him as a model of deportment. With a sigh I resumed the
composition of a reply to Mr. Bason's remarkable letter.
When I had finished the draft, I gave it to Berry. The latter read it
through, nodding solemn approval. Then he repaired to the writing-table
and copied my sentences, word for word, on to a sheet of notepaper.
As he laid down his pen, he rose to his feet.
"I'll tell you what," he said. "If the blighter replies, and Nobby comes
off at the show, we'll send this correspondence to the local Press."
"Let's have it," said Jonah.
Berry handed me the letter, and I read it aloud.
_SIR,_
_I have received your note._
_As an alloy of misrepresentation of fact, arrogant bluster and idle
menaces, I doubt whether it has ever been equalled upon this side of the
Rhine._
_Indeed, its legibility would appear to be its only merit._
_Not that I care for your style of handwriting, but in these degenerate
days it is, you will agree, a relief to receive a letter which can be
easily read._
_You did go a bust on Blue Banana, didn't you?_
_Pray act upon your first impulse and apply for a summons. The Bench
will not grant your application, but--again you will agree--it is the
effort, and not the result, which counts._
_It is nice of you to inquire after my Sealyham. He is none the worse,
thanks, and I fancy he made old Blue Banana sit up._
_Yours faithfully,_
_BERRY PLEYDELL._
_H. BASON, Esq._
_P.S.--You must forgive me for addressing you as "Esquire," but it is
difficult to break a foolish habit of courtesy which I formed as a
child. B. P._
"Fifteen thirty," cried Adèle, making ready to serve. "Hullo!" She
pointed with her racket over my shoulder. "Nobby's gone lame."
I swung on my heel to see the terrier limping apologetically towards me,
and going dead lame upon the near fore.
As he came up, I dropped my racket and fell upon one knee, the better to
search for the cause of the trouble. Carefully I handled the affected
limb....
My fingers came to his toes, and the Sealyham winced. With a sigh of
relief, I laid him upon his back.
"Got it?" said Adèle.
I looked up into the beautiful face three inches from mine.
"I fancy so." I bent to peer at the small firm foot. "Yes. Here we are.
He's picked up a puncture."
The next moment I plucked a substantial thorn from between two strong
black toes. A warm red tongue touched my restraining fingers in obvious
gratitude.
"Will he be all right?"--anxiously.
"He shall speak for himself," said I, releasing my patient.
With a galvanic squirm the latter regained his feet, spun into the air,
gyrated till I felt dizzy, and then streaked round the tennis-lawn, his
hind feet comically overreaching his fore, steering a zigzag course with
such inconsequence as suggested that My Lord of Misrule himself was
directing him by wireless.
It was not worth while finishing our interrupted game, so we strolled
back to the house. At the top of the stairs we parted, to go and change.
Directly after lunch we were to leave for the fair.
Six days had elapsed since Nobby's scuffle with the apple of Mr. Bason's
eye. Life had slipped by uneventfully. The Sealyham had been put upon a
strict diet and was thoroughly groomed three times a day: my store of
clean starched linen had dwindled to one shirt and two collars, which,
distrusting my brother-in-law, I kept under lock and key: and Mr. Bason
had been stung by our letter into sending a reply which afforded us the
maximum of gratification. It ran as follows--
_SIR,_
_Your insulting letter to hand._
_I stand by every word of my previous letter._
_The sooner, therefore, that you realize that I am not to be trifled
with, the better for all concerned._
_You are evidently one of those people who believe that impudent bluff
will carry them anywhere, and that, with your birth and upbringing
behind you, you can do as you please. But you are wrong. Among men who
are men, as distinct from pedantic popinjays, you go for nothing.
Pshaw._
_HERBERT BASON.
B. PLEYDELL, Esq._
_P.S.--Be good enough to note that my dog's name is "Blue Bandala," not
"Blue Banana."_
_H. B._
Our reply was dispatched within twenty-four hours.
_SIR,_
_Many thanks for your masterly appreciation of my character._
_We all think "pedantic popinjays" simply splendid. Is it your own?_
_Don't tell old Banana Skin, but I've had the nerve to enter my Sealyham
for the "All Comers" event at Brooch._
_So glad you're not to be trifled with. Selah._
_Yours faithfully,_
_BERRY PLEYDELL.
H. BASON, Esq._
In two days' time we should meet at Philippi.
It must be confessed that there were moments when we remembered our
precipitancy in some uneasiness. Nobby was well bred, but he had not
cost six hundred pounds. Always he looked his best, and his best was
extremely good. His many excellent points were set off by a most
attractive air and a singular charm and sprightliness of manner. Every
movement and pose was full of grace, and he had the brightest eyes that
I have ever seen. But Blue Bandala was clearly a "show" animal. Could
our little David beat this very Goliath among dogs, and that upon the
latter's own ground? Could our little amateur take on a plus-four
professional and beat him at his own game? There was no manner of doubt
that angels would at least have walked delicately where we had rushed
in. However, it was too late now. Even if we would, we could not draw
back. Beyond doing what we could to keep him as fit as a fiddle, there
was nothing to be done.
After a bath I put on a tweed suit, concealed my discarded and sole
surviving pair of white trousers from the rapacious eye of a random
housemaid, and descended to lunch.
An hour later Adèle and Nobby and I were all in the Rolls, sailing along
the soft brown roads _en route_ for Fallow Hill.
It was a day of great loveliness, and the forest ways were one and all
beset with a rare glory.
Thirty-six hours before, the first frost of autumn had touched the
breast of Earth with silver finger-tips. 'Twas but a runaway knock. The
mischief-loving knave was gone again, before the bustling dame had
braced herself to open to her pert visitor. Maybe the rogue was beating
up his quarters. The time of his dreaded lodgment was not yet. His
apprehensive hostess was full of smiles. Summer was staying on....
Yet on the livery of the countryside the accolade of Frost had wrought a
wonder. Two days ago the world was green. To-day a million leaves
glanced, green as before, yet with a new-found lustre--something of red
in it, something of gold, something of sober brown. But the wonder was
not to the trees. It was the humble bracken that had been dubbed knight.
The homespun of the forest was become cloth of pure gold, glittering,
flawless. In the twinkling of an eye the change had come. Here was an
acre spread with the delicate fronds, and there a ragged mile, and
yonder but shreds and patches--yet all of magic gold, flinging the
sunlight back, lighting the shadows, making the humblest ride too rich
for kings to trample till the green roofs and walls looked dull beside
it, and the ephemeral magnificence took Memory by the throat and wrung a
lease of life from that Reversioner.
"Tell me," I said, "of Mr. Bason. He interests me, and I've never seen
him."
"Mr. Bason," said Adèle, "is short and fat and--yes, I'm afraid he's
greasy. He has bright yellow hair and a ridiculous moustache, which is
brushed up on end on each side of his nostrils. He has very watery pale
blue eyes, and all the blood in his face seems to have gone to his
nose."
"Muscular rheumatism," I suggested.
"I guess so. Of course, he knows best, and I don't pretend to say what
men should wear, but white flannel suits aren't becoming to every
figure, are they? Most of the rest of him was mauve--shirt, socks and
handkerchief. Oh, and he had a tie on his pin."
"But how lovely!"
"Yes, but you should have smelt the lilac. He was just perfumed to
death. If he isn't careful, one of these days he'll get picked."
"One of the old school, in fact. Well, well...." We swept round a
corner, and I nodded ahead. "See that ridge in front of us? Well, that's
Fallow Hill. The village lies close, just on the other side."
"What are you going to do with the car?" said Adèle.
"They'll let me lock her up--don't be shocked--at the brewery. I know
them there."
"You'll admit it sounds bad."
"Yes, but it smells lovely. You wait. For that reason alone, I should
vote against Prohibition. The honest scent of brewing, stealing across
the meadows on a summer eve, is one of the most inspiring things I
know."
"But what a man!" said Adèle. "'Books in the running brooks, _Virtue in
vats_, and good in everything.' Nobby," she added reproachfully, "why
didn't you tell me he was a poet?" The Sealyham put his head on one
side, as if desiring her to repeat the question. "Oh, you cute thing!"
And, with that, my lady bent and kissed the terrier between the bright
brown eyes.
I put the wheel over hard, and the car swerved violently.
"For Heaven's sake!" cried Miss Feste. "What are you doing?"
"It's your fault," said I. "I'm only human. Besides, he doesn't deserve
it."
Adèle flung me a dazzling smile, made as though she would say something,
and then, apparently changing her mind, relapsed into a provoking
silence....
A quarter of an hour later the Rolls had been safely bestowed at the
brewery, and my companion and I were making our way amusedly past booths
and tents and caravans, where chapmen, hucksters, drovers, cheapjacks,
gipsies and bawling showmen wrangled and chaffered and cried their wares
or entertainments, making with the crude music of the merry-go-rounds
much the same good-humoured uproar which had been faithfully rendered at
the village of Fallow Hill every September for the last five hundred
years.
"Blessings on your sweet pretty face, my lady!" cried an old voice.
We turned to see a very old gipsy, seated a little apart upon a backless
chair, nodding and smiling in our direction.
Adèle inclined her head, and I slid a hand into my pocket.
"Come hither to me, my lady," piped the old dame, "and let your man
cross my old palm with silver, and I'll tell you your fortune. Ah, but
you have a happy face."
Adèle looked at me, and I nodded.
"They're a good folk," I said, "and you'll get better stuff for your
money than you would in Bond Street. But don't, if you don't want to."
My words could not have been heard by the gipsy. Yet, before Adèle could
reply--
"Aye," she said, "the pretty gentleman's right. We're a good folk, and
there be some among us can see farther than the dwellers in towns."
Adèle started, and the crone laughed. "Come hither, my lady, and let me
look in your eyes."
She was an old, old woman, but the snow-white hair that thrust from
beneath her kerchief was not thin: her face was shrunken and wrinkled,
yet apple-cheeked: and her great sloe-black eyes glowed with a strange
brilliance, as if there were fires kindled deep in the wasted sockets.
Adèle stepped forward, when, to my amazement, the gipsy put up her hands
and groped for the girl's shoulders. The significance of the gesture was
plain. She was stone blind.
For a while she mumbled, and, since I had not gone close, I did not hear
what she said. But Adèle was smiling, and I saw the colour come flooding
into her cheeks....
Then the old dame lifted up her voice and called to me to come also.
I went to her side.
An old gnarled hand fumbled its way on to my arm.
"Aye," she piped. "Aye. Tis as I thought. Your man also must lose ere he
find. Together ye shall lose, and together gain. And ye shall comfort
one another."
The tremulous voice ceased, and the hands slipped away.
I gave her money and Adèle thanked her prettily.
She cried a blessing upon us, I whistled to Nobby, and we strolled
on....
"Look at that baby," said Adèle. "Isn't he cute?"
"Half a second," said I, turning and whistling. "Which baby?"
"There," said Adèle, pointing. "With the golden hair."
A half-naked sun-kissed child regarded us with a shy smile. It was
impossible not to respond....
Again I turned and whistled.
"Where can he be?" said Adèle anxiously.
"Oh, he always turns up," I said. "But, if you don't mind going back a
little way, it'll save time. With all this noise..."
We went back a little way. Then we went back a long way. Then we asked
people if they had seen a little white dog with a black patch. Always
the answer was in the negative. One man laughed and said something about
"a dog in a fair," and Fear began to knock at my heart. I whistled until
the muscles of my lips ached. Adèle wanted us to search separately, but
I refused. It was not a place for her to wander alone. Feverishly we
sought everywhere. Twice a white dog sent our hopes soaring, only to
prove a stranger and dash them lower than before. Round and about and in
and out among the booths and swings and merry-go-rounds we hastened,
whistling, calling and inquiring in vain. Nobby was lost.
* * * * *
We had intended to be home in time for tea.
As it was, we got back to White Ladies, pale and dejected, at a quarter
to eight.
As she rose to get out of the car, Adèle gave a cry and felt frantically
about her neck and throat.
"What's the matter?" I cried.
"My pearls," she said simply. "They're not here."
For what it was worth, I called for lights, and we took the cushions out
and looked in the car.
But there was no sign of the necklace. It was clean gone.
* * * * *
The lamentations with which the news of our misfortunes was received
were loud and exceeding bitter.
Jill burst into tears; Daphne tried vainly to comfort her, and then
followed her example; Berry and Jonah vied with each other in gloomy
cross-examination of Adèle and myself concerning our movements since we
had left White Ladies, and in cheerless speculation with regard to the
probable whereabouts of our respective treasures.
After a hurried meal the Rolls was again requisitioned, and all six of
us proceeded to Fallow Hill. Not until eleven o'clock would the fun of
the fair be suspended, and it was better to be on the spot, even if for
the second time we had to come empty away, than to spend the evening in
the torment of inactivity.
Of the loss of the Sealyham we could speak more definitely than of that
of the necklace. Nobby had been by my side when the gipsy hailed us, so
that there was no doubt but that he was lost at the fair. Regarding her
pearls, Adèle could speak less positively. In fact, to say that she had
had the necklace before breakfast that morning was really as far as she
could go. "I know I had it then," she affirmed, "because I always take
it off before taking my bath, and I remember putting it on afterwards.
As luck will have it, I was rather late this morning, and I couldn't
fasten the safety-chain, so after two or three shots I gave up trying,
intending to do it later on. And this is the result." She had not bathed
again.
It was a sweet pretty gaud. So perfectly matched were its hundred and
two pearls that many would have believed it unreal. It had belonged to
her great-grandmother, and was not insured.
Arrived at Fallow Hill, we went straight to the police. The loss of the
jewels we communicated to them alone. Somewhat shamefacedly and plainly
against Adèle's will, I described the old gipsy and commended her to
their vigilance. When they learned that she had laid hands upon Adèle,
the two inspectors exchanged glances which there was no mistaking....
So far as Nobby was concerned, as well as informing the police, we
enlisted the sympathy of the Boy Scouts. Also we engaged six rustics to
perambulate the fair and cry the loss of the Sealyham for all to hear.
Information leading to his recovery would be rewarded with the sum of
five pounds, while the crier to whom the communication was made would
receive five more for himself. Our six employees went about their work
with a will, bellowing lustily. Daphne and Jonah sat in the car,
rejecting the luckless mongrels which were excitedly paraded before
them, one after another, from the moment that our loss was made known.
The rest of us hunted in couples--Adèle with Berry, and Jill with
me--scouring the maze of temporary alleys and lanes and crooked
quadrangles, till we knew them by heart.
The merry-go-rounds had stopped whirling, and the booths were being
shrouded or dismantled, as Jill and I made our way to the car for the
last time.
As we came up--
"That you, Boy?" cried Daphne. "Here's a waggoner who thinks he saw
Nobby being taken away."
A little knot of men parted, and Jill and I thrust our way forward.
"Oi wouldden be sure," said a deep rough voice, "but a was a lil white
chap of a dog on en' of a string. 'Twas a grume, simly, a-leadin' 'im
Brooch way. An' a didn't want for to go, neither, for a stock toes in, a
did, an' collar was 'alf-way over 'ead. Just come forth from _The Three
Bulls_, Oi 'ad, oop yonder o' Bear Lane, an' the toime were nigh three
o' the aafternoon."
We questioned him closely, but he could tell us no more.
Slight as the clue was, it was infinitely better than none at all. If it
was indeed Nobby that the waggoner had seen, the thief was taking him
out of the village, at least in the direction of White Ladies. This was
encouraging. That any one making for the railway station would take the
same road was a less pleasant reflection.
I took our informant's name and address and those of the crier who had
brought him to the car. Then we dispensed some silver, and left for
home.
Of Adèle's necklace we had heard nothing.
We determined to concentrate upon the recovery of the pearls upon the
following day.
* * * * *
All through a wretched night the pitiful vacancy at the foot of my bed
reminded me brutally of my loss. My poor little dog--where was he
passing these dark hours? How many more must drag their way along before
the warm white ball lay curled again in the crook of my knees? Had he
rested there for the last time? With a groan I thrust the thought from
me, but always it returned, leering hideously. Miserably I recited his
qualities--his love for me, his mettle, his beauty, his unfailing good
humour.... What naughtiness there was in him seemed very precious.
Painfully I remembered his thousand pretty ways. He had a trick of
waving his little paws, when he was tired of begging....
Small wonder that I slept ill and fitfully.
Early as I was, the others were already at breakfast when I came down.
Only Adèle had not appeared.
It was a melancholy meal.
Jonah said not a word, and Berry hardly opened his mouth. There were
dark rings under Jill's grey eyes, and Daphne looked pale and tired.
A communication from the Secretary of the Brooch Dog Show, enclosing a
pass for the following day, and informing me that my Sealyham must
arrive at the Show in the charge of not more than one attendant by 11
a.m., did not tend to revive our drooping spirits. We had nearly
finished, when, with a glance at the clock, my sister set her foot upon
the bell.
As the butler entered the room--
"Send up and see if Miss Feste will breakfast upstairs, Falcon. I
think----"
"Miss Feste has breakfasted, madam."
"Already?"
"Yes, madam. Her breakfast was taken to her before eight o'clock."
"Where is she?"
"I think she's out bicycling, madam."
"Bicycling?"
The inquiry leapt from five mouths simultaneously.
"Yes, madam. She sent for me and asked if I could find 'er a lady's
bicycle, an' Greenaway was very 'appy to lend 'er 'ers, madam. An' Fitch
pumped up the tires, an' she went off about 'alf-past eight, madam."
We stared at one another in bewilderment.
"Did she say where she was going?" said Berry.
"No, sir."
"All right, Falcon."
The butler bowed and withdrew.
Amid the chorus of astonished exclamation, Berry held up his hand.
"It's very simple," he said. "She's unhinged."
"Rubbish," said his wife.
"The disappearance of Nobby, followed by the loss of her necklace, has
preyed upon her mind. Regardless alike of my feelings and of the canons
of good taste, she rises at an hour which is almost blasphemous and goes
forth unreasonably to indulge in the most hellish form of exercise ever
invented. What further evidence do we need? By this time she has
probably detached the lamp from the velocipede and is walking about,
saying she's Florence Nightingale."
"Idiot," said Daphne.
"Not yet," said her husband, "but I can feel it coming on." He cast an
eye downward and shivered. "I feared as much. My left leg is all
unbuttoned."
"For goodness' sake," said his wife, "don't sit there drivelling----"
"Sorry," said Berry, "but I haven't got a clean bib left. This laundry
strike----"
"I said 'drivelling,' not 'dribbling.' You know I did. And what are we
wasting time for? Let's do something--anything."
"Right-oh," said her husband. "What about giving the bread some birds?"
And with that he picked up a loaf and deliberately pitched it out of the
window on to the terrace.
The fact that the casement was not open until after the cast, made his
behaviour the more outrageous.
The very wantonness of the act, however, had the excellent effect of
breaking the spell of melancholy under which we were labouring.
In a moment all was confusion.
Jill burst into shrieks of laughter; Jonah, who had been immersed in
_The Times_, cursed his cousin for the shock to his nerves; in a shaking
voice Daphne assured the butler, whom the crash had brought running,
that it was "All right, Falcon; Major Pleydell thought the window was
open"; and the delinquent himself was loudly clamouring to be told
whether he had won the slop-pail outright or had only got to keep it
clean for one year.
Twenty minutes later Jonah had left for Brooch to see the Chief
Constable about the missing jewels and arrange for the printing and
distribution of an advertisement for Nobby. The rest of us, doing our
utmost to garnish a forlorn hope with the seasoning of expectation, made
diligent search for the necklace about the terrace, gardens and
tennis-lawn. After a fruitless two hours we repaired to the house, where
we probed the depths of sofas and chairs, emptied umbrella-stands,
settles, flower-bowls and every other receptacle over which our guest
might have leaned, and finally thrust an electric torch into the bowels
of the piano and subjected that instrument to a thorough examination.
At length--
"I give it up," said Daphne, sinking into a chair. "I don't think it can
be here."
"Nor I," said I. "I think we've looked everywhere."
"Yes," said Berry. "There's only the cesspool left. We can drag that
before lunch, if you like, but I should prefer one more full meal before
I die."
"Boy! Boy!"
Somewhere from behind closed doors a sweet excited voice was calling.
I sprang to the door.
"Yes, Adèle, yes?" I shouted.
A moment later my lady sped down a passage and into the hall.
"Get the car quick. I've found Nobby."
"Where?" we yelled.
"That man Bason's got him."
Her announcement momentarily deprived us of breath. Then we all started,
and in the next two minutes sufficient was said about the retired
music-hall proprietor to make that gentleman's pendulous ears burst into
blue flame.
Again want of breath intervened, and Adèle besought us to make ready the
car.
We explained vociferously that Jonah had taken the Rolls and would be
back any minute. Whilst we were waiting, would she not tell us her tale?
Seating herself upon the arm of a chair, she complied forthwith.
"None of you seemed to suspect him, and, as I'm usually wrong, I decided
to say nothing. But last night I asked a Boy Scout where he lived.
Curiously enough, the boy had a brother who was a gardener in Bason's
employ. That made me think. I asked him whether I could have a word with
his brother, and he told me he lived at a cottage close to his work, and
was almost always at home between nine and half-past in the morning.
"When he came home this morning, I was waiting for him. He seemed a nice
man, so I told him the truth and asked him to help me. Thorn--that's his
name--doesn't like Bason a bit, and at once agreed that he was quite
capable of the dirtiest work, if any one got in his way. He hadn't, he
said, seen Nobby, but that wasn't surprising. If the dog was there he'd
probably be in the stables, and with those Thorn has nothing to do.
"Bason doesn't keep horses, but he uses one of the coach-houses as a
garage. The chauffeur seems to be rather worse than his master. He's
loathed by the rest of the staff, and, while he and Bason are as thick
as thieves, neither trusts the other an inch.
"The first thing to do, obviously, was to find out if Nobby was there.
Everything was always kept locked, so I determined to try the 'Blondel'
stunt--yes, I know a lot of English History--and try and make Coeur de
Lion speak for himself.
"First we synchronized our watches. Then Thorn showed me the house and
told me exactly where the garage and stables were--close to the gates,
happily. Then we arranged that in ten minutes' time he should try to get
the chauffeur out of the way, while I took a look round. More than that
we couldn't fix, but it was understood that, if there was a dog there
and Thorn got an opening, he was to undo his collar and give him a
chance to make good on his own. That wouldn't involve Thorn, for he
could fasten the collar again and make it look as if Nobby had slipped
it."
"But what a brain!" said Berry. "One short month of my society, and the
girl----"
An avalanche of protest cut short the speaker.
Adèle continued, gurgling.
"At first everything went all right. At twenty minutes to ten I put my
head round the corner to see the chauffeur and Thorn disappearing at the
other end of the yard. I stepped out of my cover and had a look round.
There were stables on one side, and a coachhouse and garage on the
other, and the yard, which was open at both ends, lay in between. I was
just going to try the loose-boxes--I was going to 'miaow' like a cat and
see what answer I got--when I heard Bason's voice calling Banana....
"There was only one door open, and that was the garage. I dashed for it
and looked round for somewhere to hide. The place was as bare as your
hand. But there was nothing the matter with the limousine, so I got
inside and sat down on the floor.
"I was only just in time.
"Bason came stamping into the yard, shouting for 'Arthur,' and the next
moment Nobby gave tongue.
"I just had to look.
"There was Blue Banana with his nose to the door of the loose-box
immediately opposite, snarling and showing his teeth, Bason was
hammering on the door, yelling 'Shut up, you brute!' and Nobby, of
course, was barking to beat the band."
As she spoke, a faint familiar cough from the drive announced the return
of Jonah from Brooch.
In less time than it takes to record, I had flown to the front-door and
put him wise. Two minutes later we were all in the Rolls, which was
scudding at an unlawful speed along the Fallow Hill road.
"There's nothing much more to tell," said Adèle, as we clamoured for her
to proceed. "I thought Bason would never go, and, when at last he did,
the chauffeur took the opportunity of changing the two front tires.
"For over two hours I sat in that car. At last the man shut the place up
and, I suppose, went to his dinner.
"I had meant to borrow the limousine, but he'd taken the key of the
switch, so I couldn't do that. And I couldn't get at Nobby, for the
stable was locked. So I just pelted back to Thorn's cottage, told his
wife to tell him my news, picked up the bicycle and came right back."
For a moment no one said anything. Then--
"I shall recommend you," said Berry, "for the Most Excellent Order of
the Beer Engine. A very coveted distinction. The membership is limited
to seven million."
"Yes," said I, "for a most daring reconnaissance behind the enemy's
lines. You know, this ranks with the penetration of the Kiel Canal.
Seriously, Adèle, I'm terribly grateful."
My lady looked at me with a shy smile.
"What did the gipsy say?" she said. "After all I'm only obeying orders.
And now----"
A cry from Jonah interrupted her, and the rest of us started inquiringly
as he clapped on the brakes.
As the car came to a standstill--
"What's the matter?" I cried.
By way of answer my cousin took off his hat and, producing a silk
handkerchief, deliberately wiped his forehead with the utmost care. Then
he replaced his hat and looked up and over his right shoulder....
From the top of a mossy bank by the side of the road Nobby was regarding
us wide-eyed. Apparently he had broken prison and was on his way home.
Time was nothing to him, and the roots of a wayside beech upon an
attractive rise cried aloud for inspection. Besides, there was a serious
loss of liberty which had to be made good....
For a moment rescue-party and prize looked one another in the face. Then
the latter hurled himself panting into the road and leapt into the arms
which I stretched out of the car.
No prodigal ever received such an ovation. There was literally a fight
for his person. Jill snatched him from me and pressed his nose to her
face; Berry dragged him from her protesting arms and set him upon his
knee; Daphne tore him away and hugged him close. Such of us as were
temporarily disseized, stroked and fondled his limbs and cried endearing
epithets. Only our fair American looked on with a wistful smile.
"So, you see," she said, "he's done without me, after all.'"
I took hold of her hand.
"My dear," I said, "your argument would be more forcible if he was
wearing a collar."
There was a buzz of excitement as my statement was feverishly confirmed.
"I agree," said Berry. "What's more, he's brought us a souvenir."
As he spoke, he plucked something which was adhering to the terrier's
beard.
It was a tuft of slate-grey hair.
* * * * *
The "All Comers" Event was won by Nobby, who beat a French bulldog by a
short head.
Neither Blue Bandala nor his owner put in an appearance. For this a
particularly curt note, bluntly requiring the return of the Sealyham's
collar, may have been responsible.
The waggoner and the lad who found him received their rewards.
So also did Thorn. His letter of acknowledgment was addressed to Adèle.
_DEAR MADAM,_
_Thank you kindly for the 5 lbs. I got to the dog by way of the ayloft
which were in one of the stalls I undone is coller and here he run out
the first dore as was open and appening on Blew Bandarlerer did not harf
put it acrost him and Mr. Bason says I command you to seperate them dogs
Arthur he says and Arthur fetches Blew B. one what he ment for your dog
and Mr. Bason fetches him another what he ment for Arthur so the chough
cort it proper._
_Yours respecfully,_
_G. THORN._
But for the loss of the pearls, we should have been jubilant.
* * * * *
Three days had elapsed since the dog show.
The whole of the morning and part of the afternoon I had spent in a
bathroom, supervising the disconnection, severance and inspection of the
waste-pipe which served the basin. When, hot and dejected, I made my
report at half-past three, Adèle thanked me as prettily as if I had
found the pearls.
I retired to wash and change into flannels.
It must have been two hours later when I looked up from the operation of
combing Nobby and took my pipe from my mouth.
"Oh, Adèle," I said simply, "I do love you so."
Adèle put out a hand and touched my hair.
"I'm glad you do," she said gently.
As I got upon my feet, one end of her necklace hung trailing over the
edge of my trousers where I had turned them up. They were the pair I had
worn at tennis the day we had gone to the fair, and it must have fallen
into the fold when we were finding the thorn.
Adèle saw it too, but, when I would have stooped, she shook her head.
Then I looked into her eyes, and there found such a light that I forgot
the pearls and the rolling world with them.
As she slipped into my arms, she threw back her head.
"Once, at Port Said, you kissed me," she whispered. "And again at Rome."
I nodded. "But this is your own home."
"Yes," I said steadily. "And here I plight thee my troth."
The brown eyes closed, and a glorious smile swept Into the beautiful
face.
For a moment I gazed at her....
Then I kissed the red, red lips.
So we comforted one another.
* * * * *
The unexpected arrival of the laundry van at five minutes to eight,
with, amongst other things, a month's table-linen, had pardonably
dislocated the service of dinner.
Whilst the table was being relaid we spent the time in the library,
gathered about the violet-tongued comfort of a chestnut-root fire.
"You know," said Jonah, looking up from an armchair, "if we
don't----Good Heavens!" His exclamation was so violent that we all
jumped. "Why," he cried, staring at Adèle, "you've found them!"
A common cry of amazement broke from Daphne, Berry and Jill, and our
guest started guiltily and put a hand to her throat.
"O-o-oh, I "--she shot an appealing glance at me--"we quite forgot. Boy
found them in the garden, whilst he was combing Nobby."
Berry looked round.
"You hear?" he said. "They quite forgot.... They stumble upon jewels
worth a month of strike pay--baubles whose loss has stupefied the
County, and forget to mention it. And I spent two hours this afternoon
in a gas-mask studying the plan of the drains and calculating whether,
if the second manhole was opened and a gorgonzola put down to draw the
fire, Jonah could reach the grease-trap before he became unconscious."
He raised his eyes to heaven and groaned. "The only possible excuse," he
added, "is that you're both in...."
His voice tailed off, as he met Adèle's look, and he got suddenly upon
his feet.
Jonah stood up, too.
Daphne took Adèle's hands in hers and turned to me a face radiant with
expectation.
Jill caught at my sleeve and began to tremble. I put my arm about her
and looked round.
"We plead that excuse," I said.
For a moment nobody moved.
Then Jonah limped to my dear and put her hand to his lips. Adèle stooped
and kissed him.
"You beautiful darling," breathed my sister. "Sargent shall paint you,
and you shall hang at the foot of the stairs."
The two kissed one another tenderly.
Then Adèle stretched out her white arms to grey-eyed Jill. My little
cousin just clung to her.
"Oh, Adèle," she whispered, "I'm so glad. B-but you won't go away? He
and you'll stay with us, won't you?"
"If you want me, darling."
Berry cleared his throat.
"Of course," he said, "as the head of the family--the overlord--I should
have come first. However, I shall kiss her 'Good night' instead.
Possibly I shall ker-rush her to me." He turned to me. "This will be the
second time within my memory that a Pleydell has married above him."
"Very true," said I. "When was the first?"
"When I married your sister."
I nodded dreamily.
"I think," I said, "I think I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth."
Berry shook his head.
"Not a spoon," he said. "A soup-ladle."
THE END
NEW FICTION
THE BOX FROM JAPAN
By
HARRY STEPHEN KEELER
Another baffling story by the great detective-story writer who is
already becoming world-famous for his marvellously intricate and
ingenious plots. This story is a jewel of many facets in brilliant
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_Popular successes by this Author_:
The Amazing Web
Thieves' Nights
The Fourth King
The Green Jade Hand
Sing Sing Nights
The Tiger Snake
The Blue Spectacles
Find the Clock
The Black Satchel
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CALEB'S CONQUEST
By JOSEPH HOCKING
Caleb, the sixteen-year-old son of a small farmer, ran away on his
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in the next few years makes a typical Hocking Cornish adventure romance.
_Other popular Stories by this Author_:
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THE SIGN OF THE GLOVE
(_Another_ "LEATHERMOUTH" _Novel_.)
By CARLTON DAWE
Colonel Gantian ("Leathermouth") is called upon by his friend, a
Commissioner of Scotland Yard, to help in elucidating the mysterious
events behind the death of the late Governor of Bombay. With much
hesitation and reluctance, having just got married, he accepts the
mission. But it sends him walking into many dangers, and it is only with
much trouble that finally he is triumphant.
_Other recent successes by this Author_:
Leathermouth
The Glare
The Forbidden Shrine
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Slings and Arrows
Love, the Conqueror
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The Desirable Woman
The Winding Road
The Missing Clue
Fishers of Men
Wanted
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A MYSTERY CHAIN
By L. G. MOBERLY
This story deals with a foreign woman, who poses as a great
philanthropist, but who, under cover of her social activities, is
involved in very other matters. What these are must be left to Miss
Moberly to tell, and she tells them in a story of great power, vividness
and charm.
_Some of Miss Moberly's previous successes_:
The Voice Fingers of Fate Stepping Stones Hope, My Wife Vere Diana A
Tangled Web A Way of Escape Threads of Life The Eternal Dustbin Renewal
A Change and a Chance The Master Key
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place. Her novels are not merely thrillers, but a readable love story is
invariably woven into the mystery.
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THE YELLOW WAGON
By CHARMAN EDWARDS
A beautiful woman, destined to be England's most famous actress, born
amid the glamour yet hardship of that picturesque and now almost
obsolete institution of rural England, the travelling theatre. Against
this coloured background and that of the West-end stage is the story of
the men who craved her for her beauty alone. Here is no impossible
heroine who survives her many ordeals unscathed--Sheila Fitzpatrick is
but human after all--but the reader's sympathy will be with her to the
end.
_By the same Author_:
Windfellow
Derision
High Street
Rainbrother
Sir Richard Penniless
Mr. Edwards writes in a manner that holds one to his story.
Characterisation comes easy to him. He has a facility for sustained
suspense and he constructs with admirable economy.
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By KATHARINE TYNAN
Robin, when left alone in the world, with her great love for animals,
finds her vocation in veterinary surgery. The a returning of a lost dog
to its owner brings into her life a new interest, and through the
episodes that follow Katharine Tynan brings to a satisfactory conclusion
one of the most charming and characteristic of her romances.
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Clean, wholesome love stories, free from intrigue and sensationalism,
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TILL DOOMSDAY
By ROBIN TEMPLE
The dramatic story of a man whose divorced wife, an actress, seeks, for
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To all who like a powerful adventure story, written with a punch, this
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NEW FICTION
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By OTTWELL BINNS
To Ferrars, home on leave, came an S O S call from a friend gaoled in
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for the treasure followed.
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Where the Aurora Flames
Java Jack
A Sin of Silence
The Secret Pearls
Snowbird
Jim Trelawney
The Flaming Crescent
The Man from Maloba
The Love that Believeth
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An Adventurer of the Bay
Behind the Ranges
The Diamond Trail
The Three Black Dots
The Vanished Guest
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atmosphere of the wilds."--_Yorkshire Observer_.
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NEW FICTION
PANDORA'S BOX
AND OTHER STORIES
By STEPHEN McKENNA
A volume of great charm and wit, fully representing the author's varied
talents, and vigorously written in the style that has made him famous.
Mr. Stephen McKenna's admirers, and their number is legion, will rejoice
in this attractive volume.
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NEW FICTION
THE RETURN OF JENNY WEAVER
By MARGARET TURNBULL
A murder trial that becomes more complex as it proceeds, and (strange to
say) less sordid; for under cross-examination there gradually emerges
the story of a bygone romance so touching that the young squire, on his
acquittal of the murder charge, yields the centre of the stage to his
poor, foolish, fluttering mother.
_By the same Author_:
The Handsome Man A Monkey in Silk The Left Lady
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WINNING THROUGH
By JESSE TEMPLETON
The story of the shipwreck of an Atlantic Liner and of the thrilling
adventures that befall a small party of survivors stranded in Labrador.
Their efforts to reach civilisation have an epic character, yet a
romantic thread runs through the story to the very end.
_Previous Novels by this Author_:
Dead or Alive
Between the Tides
Clay-Face
The Bitter Test
The Yellow Hibiscus
Ten Fathoms Deep
Mr. Templeton has reached distinct artistry in attractive dialogue, in
clean and wholesome action and in presentation of exciting situations
without undue strain on credulity.
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NEW FICTION
THE HAWKMOOR MYSTERY
By W. H. LANE CRAUFORD
_Author of "The Missing Ace"_
A diamond of incalculable value is stolen from an Indian Temple by
Captain Berrington. Then, some twenty years afterwards, in an English
country house, there are strange and bewildering happenings. The
elucidation of the mystery involved makes an exceptionally thrilling and
powerful story.
A story written in a light vein that will bring many a chuckle to you
whilst its most absorbing problem is gradually unfolded.
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