"I don't want to kill him," he said quietly.
When the other rose, he looked extremely ugly. This was largely due to the fact that most of his front teeth were missing and that it was difficult, because of the blood, to see exactly where his face ended and his mouth began. The look in his eyes, however, was suggesting the intent to kill.
He had no idea, of course, that he was facing perhaps the one man living who could have thrashed a champion….
It is not often that you will see half a dozen of the most illustrious members of the National Sporting Club attending an Assault-at-Arms held at a public school. Three years running I had that honour. The gentlemen came to see Jonah. And though no applause was allowed during the boxing, they always broke the rule…. In due season my cousin went to Oxford…. In his second year, in the Inter-University contest, he knocked his opponent out in seven seconds. The latter remained unconscious for more than six hours, each crawling one of which took a year off Jonah's life. From that day my cousin never put on the gloves again….
All, however, that the Spaniard saw was a tall lazy-looking man with a game leg, who by his gross interference had taken him by surprise.
He lowered his head and actually ran upon his fate….
I have never seen "punishment" at once so frightful and so punctiliously administered. Jonah worked with the swift precision of the surgeon about the operating table. He confessed afterwards that his chief concern was to keep his opponent too blind with rage to see the wisdom of capitulation. He need not have worried….
When it had become obvious that the blessed gifts of sight, smell, and hearing had been almost wholly withdrawn from the gentleman, when, in fact, he had practically ceased attempting to defend himself, and merely bellowed with mortification at every stinging blow, Jonah knocked him sprawling on to the midden, and drew off his wash-leather gloves.
The next moment he was down on his knees beside the roan, plucking at the rough harness with trembling fingers.
Once the horse sought to rise, but at Jonah's word he stopped and laid down his head.
Between us we got him clear. Then we stood back, and Jonah called him.
With a piteous effort the roan got upon his legs. That there was back trouble and at least one hock was sprung I saw at a glance. The horse had been broken down. He was still blowing badly, and I ran for the flask in the car. When I came back, Jonah was caressing his charger with tears running down his cheeks….
There is a listlessness, born of harsh treatment, suckled on dying hopes, reared on the bitter memory of happier days, which is more eloquent than tears. There is an air of frozen misery, of a despair so deep that a kind word has come to lose its meaning, which none but horses wear.
Looking upon Zed, I felt ashamed to be a man.
Gaunt, filthy, and tottering, the flies mercilessly busy about three shocking sores, the roan was presenting a terrible indictment to be filed against the Day of Judgment. '…And not one of them is forgotten before God….' But there was worse than pain of body here. The dull, see-nothing eyes, the heavy-laden head, the awful-stricken mien, told of a tragedy to make the angels weep—an English thoroughbred, not dead, but with a broken heart.
We had administered the brandy, Jonah was bathing a sore, and I had made a wisp and was rubbing Zed down, when—
"Good day," said a voice.
With his arms folded upon the sill, a little grey-headed man was watching us from a window.
I looked up and nodded.
"Good day," I said.
"Ah like boxing," said the man. "Ah've bin twelve years in the States, an' Ah'd rather see boxing than a bull-fight. You like baseball?"
I shook my head.
"I've never seen it," I said.
"Haven't missed much," was the reply. "But Ah like boxing. You visiting Spain?"
"For a few days."
"'S a fine country. Bin to Sevilla?"
Entirely ignoring the violence which he had just witnessed, to say nothing of our trespass upon his property and our continued attention to his horse, the farmer proceeded to discuss the merits and shortcomings of Spain with as much detached composure as if we had met him in a tavern.
At length Jonah got up.
"Will you sell me this horse?"
"Yes," said the man. "Ah will."
"What d'you want for him?"
"Five hundred pesetas."
"Right," said Jonah. "Have you got a halter?"
The man disappeared. Presently he emerged from a door halter in hand.
The twenty pounds passed, and Zed was ours.
Tenderly my cousin fitted the halter about the drooping head.
"One more effort, old chap," he said gently, turning towards the gate….
Out of compassion for the mules, I drew the farmer's attention to the hub which was nursing the gatepost.
He just nodded.
"Pedro could never drive," he said.
"I should get a new carter," I said.
He shrugged his shoulders. Then he jerked his head in the direction of the carcase upon the midden.
"He is my step-father. We do not speak," he said simply.
We found the others in the hamlet through which we had passed. There I handed over Ping to Adèle, and thence Jonah and Zed and I walked to Zumaya.
To find a box at the station was more than we had dared hope for, but there it was—empty and waiting to be returned to San Sebastian. Beneath the influence of twenty-five pesetas, the station-master saw no good reason why it should not be returned by the evening train.
We left Jonah to accompany his horse and hurried home by car to seek a stable.
When we sat down to dinner that night at eight o'clock, Jonah called for the wine-list and ordered a magnum of champagne.
When the wine was poured, he raised his glass and looked at me.
"Thank you for helping me," he said. He glanced round with his eyes glowing. "And all of you for being so glad." He drank and touched Adèle upon the shoulder. "In a loose-box, up to his knees in straw, with an armful of hay to pick over, and no congestion…. Have you ever felt you wanted to get up and dance?" He turned to Berry. "Brother, your best. May you spot the winner to-night, as I did this afternoon."
"Thank you," said Berry, "thank you. I must confess I'd been hoping for some sort of intuition as to what to do. But I've not had a hint so far. Perhaps, when I get to the table…. It's silly, of course. One mustn't expect too much, but I had the feeling that I was going to be given a tip. You know. Like striking a dud egg, and then putting your shirt on a horse called 'Attar of Roses.' … Never mind. Let's talk about something else. Why did you call him 'Zed'?"
"Short for 'Zero,'" said Jonah. "I think my groom started it, and
I——"
"Zero," said Berry quietly. "I'm much obliged."
* * * * *
It was a quarter to eleven, and Berry had lost one hundred and seventy pounds.
Across her husband's back Daphne threw me a despairing glance. Upon the opposite side of the table, Adèle and Jill, one upon either side of Jonah, stared miserably before them. I lighted my tenth cigarette and wondered what Berry had done….
The table was crowded.
From their points of vantage the eight croupiers alternately did their business and regarded the assembly with a bored air.
A beautifully dressed American, who had been losing, observed the luck of her neighbour, a burly Dutchman, with envious eyes. With a remonstrance in every fingertip, a debonnaire Frenchman was laughingly upbraiding his fellow for giving him bad advice. From above his horn-rimmed spectacles an old gentleman in a blue suit watched the remorseless rake jerk his five pesetas into "the Bank" in evident annoyance. Cheek by jowl with a dainty Englishwoman, who reminded me irresistibly of a Dresden shepherdess, a Spanish Jew, who had won, was explosively disputing with a croupier the amount of his stake. Two South Americans were leaning across the table, nonchalantly "plastering the board." A little old lady, with an enormous bag, was thanking an elegant Spaniard for disposing her stake as she desired. Finger to lip, a tall Spanish girl in a large black hat was sizing her remaining counters with a faint frown. A very young couple, patently upon their honeymoon, were conferring excitedly….
"Hagan juego, Señores."
The conference between the lovers became more intense.
"Esta hecho?"
"Oh, be quick!" cried the girl. "Between '7' and '8,' Bill.
Between…"
As the money went on—
"No va mas," cried the croupier in charge.
Two pairs of eyes peered at the revolving wheel. They did not notice that the Dutchman, plunging at the last moment upon 'MANQUE,' had touched their counter with his cuff and moved it to '9.'
The ball lost its momentum, poppled across the ridges, and leaped to rest.
"Nueve."
Two faces fell. I wondered if a new frock had vanished into air….
With the edge of his rake a croupier was tapping their counter and looking round for the claimant.
For a second the Jew peered about him. Then he pointed to himself and stretched out his hand.
I called to the croupier in French.
"No. It belongs to Monsieur and Madame. I saw what happened. That gentleman moved it with his cuff."
"Merci, Monsieur."
With a sickly leer the pretender rallied the croupier, confidentially assured the dainty Englishwoman that he did not care, and, laughing a little too heartily, waved the thirty-five pounds towards their bewildered owners.
"B-but it isn't mine," stammered the boy.
"Yes," I said, smiling. "Your counter was moved. I saw the whole thing." I hesitated. Then, "If you'll take an old hand's advice, you'll stop now. A thing like that's invariably the end of one's luck."
I was not 'an old hand,' and I had no authority for my dictum. My interference was unpardonable. When the two stopped to thank me, as they passed from the room, I felt like a criminal. Still, they looked very charming; and, after all, a frock on the back is worth a score at the dressmaker's.
"I am going," said Berry, "to suspend my courtship and smoke a cigarette. Possibly I'm going too strong. If I give the lady a rest, she may think more of me."
"I suppose," said Daphne, "you're bent on losing it all."
Her husband frowned.
"Fortune favours the bold," he said shortly. "You see, she's just proving me. If I were to falter, she'd turn me down."
It was impossible not to admire such confidence.
I bade my sister take heart.
"Much," I concluded, "may be done with forty pounds."
"Fifty," corrected Berry. "And now let's change the subject. How d'you pronounce Lwow? Or would you rather tell me a fairy tale?"
I shook my head.
"My power," I said, "of concentration is limited."
"Then I must," said Berry. "It's fatal to brood over your fortune." He sat back in his chair and let the smoke make its own way out of his mouth. "There was once a large king. It wasn't his fault. The girth went with the crown. All the Koppabottemburgs were enormous. Besides, it went very well with his subjects. Looking upon him, they felt they were getting their money's worth. A man of simple tastes, his favourite hobby was fowls.
"One day, just as he'd finished cleaning out the fowl-house, he found that he'd run out of maize. So he slipped on his invisible cloak and ran round to the grocer's. He always wore his invisible cloak when shopping. He found it cheaper.
"Well, the grocer was just recovering from the spectacle of two pounds of the best maize shoving themselves into a brown-paper bag and pushing off down the High Street, when a witch came in. The grocer's heart sank into his boots. He hated witches. If you weren't civil, before you knew where you were, you were a three-legged toad or a dew-pond or something. So you had to be civil. As for their custom—well, it wasn't worth having. They wouldn't look at bacon, unless you'd guarantee that the pig had been killed on a moonless Friday with the wind in the North, and as for pulled figs, if you couldn't swear that the box had been crossed by a one-eyed man whose father had committed arson in a pair of brown boots, you could go and bury them under the lilacs.
"This time, however, the grocer was pleasantly surprised.
"I didn't know," said the witch, "that you were under the patronage of
Royalty."
"Oh, didn't you?" said the grocer. "Why, the Master of the Horse has got his hoof-oil here for nearly two days now."
"Master of the Horse be snookered," said the witch. "I'm talking about the king."
"'The K-King?'" stammered the grocer.
"'Oh, cut it out,' said the witch, to whom an invisible cloak meant nothing. 'No doubt you've been told to keep quiet, but I don't count. And I'll bet you did the old fool over his maize.'
"The grocer's brain worked very rapidly. The memory of a tin of mixed biscuits and half a Dutch cheese, which had floated out of his shop only the day before, and numerous other recollections of mysteriously animated provisions came swarming into his mind. At length—
"'We never charge Royalty,' he said loftily.
"'Oh, don't you?' snapped the witch. 'Well, supposing you change this broomstick. You swore blue it was cut on a rainless Tuesday from an ash that had supported a murderer with a false nose. The very first time I used it, it broke at six thousand feet. I was over the sea at the time, and had to glide nearly four miles to make a landing. Can you b-beat it?'
"When the grocer put up his shutters two hectic hours later, he was a weary man. In the interval he had been respectively a toad, a picture post-card, and a tin of baked beans. And somebody had knocked him off the counter during his third metamorphosis, so he felt like death. All the same, before going to bed, he sat down and wrote to the Lord Chamberlain, asking for permission to display the Royal Arms. Just to make it quite clear that he wasn't relying on hoof-oil, he added that he was shortly expecting a fine consignment of maize and other commodities.
"The postscript settled it.
"The permission was granted, the king 'dealt' elsewhere in future, and the witch was given three hours to leave the kingdom. So the grocer lost his two worst customers and got the advertisement of his life. Which goes to show, my children, that if only—— Hullo! Here's a new shift."
It was true.
The eight croupiers were going off duty. As they vacated their seats, eight other gentlemen in black immediately replaced them.
Berry extinguished his cigarette and handed me his last bunch of notes. In exchange for these, with the peculiar delicacy of his kind, the croupier upon my right selected, arrayed and offered me counters of the value of forty English pounds.
He might have been spared his pains.
As I was piling the money by Berry's side—
"Zero," announced a nasal voice.
"We're off," said my brother-in-law. "Will you see that they pay me right?"
One hundred and seventy-five pounds.
Ere I had completed my calculation—
"Zero," repeated the nasal voice.
"I said so," said Berry, raising his eyebrows. "I had the maximum that time. Will you be so good? Thank you."
Trembling with excitement, I started to count the equivalent of four hundred and ninety pounds.
Berry was addressing the croupier.
"No. Don't touch the stake. She's not finished yet."
"Esta hecho?"
"Don't leave it all," begged Daphne. "Take——"
"No vas mas."
Desperately I started to check the money again….
"Zero."
There was a long gasp of wonderment, immediately followed by a buzz of exclamation. The croupiers were smiling. Jill was jumping up and down in her seat. Adèle was shaking Jonah by the arm. My sister was clinging to Berry, imploring him to "stop now." The two Frenchmen were laughing and nodding their congratulations. The little old lady was bowing and beaming good-will. Excepting, perhaps, the croupiers. Berry seemed less concerned than anyone present.
"No. I'm not going to stop," he said gently, "because that would be foolish. But I'll give it a miss this time, because it's not coming up. It's no longer a question of guessing, dear. I tell you, I know."
The ball went flying.
After a moment's interval—
"Ocho (eight)," announced the croupier.
"You see," said Berry. "I should have lost my money. Now this time my old friend Zero will come along."
On to the white-edged rectangle went fourteen pounds.
A few seconds later I was receiving four hundred and ninety….
I began to feel dazed. As for counting the money, it was out of the question. Idiotically I began to arrange the counters in little piles….
'35' turned up.
"That's right," said Berry quietly. "And now… It's really very monotonous, but…"
With a shrug of his shoulders, he set the limit on 'Zero.'
I held my breath….
The ball ceased to rattle—began to fall—ricochetted from stud to stud—tumbled into the wheel—nosed '32'—and … fell with a click into '0.'
Berry spread out his hands.
"I tell you," he said, "it's too easy…. And now, again."
"Don't!" cried Daphne. "Don't! I beg you——"
"My darling," said Berry, "after to-night—No. Leave the stake, please—I'll never play again. This evening—well, the money's there, and we may as well have it, mayn't we? I mean, it isn't as if I hadn't been given the tip. From the moment I woke this morning—— Listen, dear. Don't bother about the wheel—the lady's been hammering away. You must admit, she's done the job thoroughly. First the intuition: then the wherewithal: then, what to back. I should be a bottle-nosed mug if I didn't——"
"Zero."
Upon the explosion of excitement which greeted the astounding event, patrons of the Baccarat Table and of the other Roulette Wheel left their seats and came crowding open-mouthed to see what was toward. Complete strangers were chattering like old friends. Gibbering with emotion, the Spanish Jew was dramatically recounting what had occurred. The Dutchman was sitting back, laughing boisterously. The Frenchmen were waving and crying, "Vive l'Angleterre." Jonah was shouting as though he had been in the hunting field. Adèle and Jill were beating upon the table.
Berry bowed his acknowledgments.
As in a dream, I watched them send for more money.
When it arrived, they gave me four hundred and ninety pounds.
"Hagan juego, Señores."
Berry shook his head.
"Not this time," he said quietly.
He was right. After a look at '0' the ball ran with a click into '15.'
A long sigh of relief followed its settlement.
"You see?" said Berry, picking up fourteen pounds….
"Don't," I said weakly. "Don't. I can't bear it. The board's bewitched. If it turns up again, I shall collapse."
"You mean that?" said Berry, putting the money on.
"No va mas."
"I do. My heart——"
"Then say your prayers," said my brother-in-law. "For, as I live, that ball's going to pick out——"
"Zero."
I never remember such a scene.
Everybody in the room seemed to be shouting. I know I was. Respectable Spaniards stamped upon the floor like bulls. The Frenchmen, who with Berry and several others had backed the winner, were clasping one another and singing the Marseillaise. The beautifully dressed American was wringing Adèle's hand. The old gentleman in the blue suit was on his feet and appeared to be making a speech. The Spanish girl was standing upon her chair waving a handkerchief….
In vain the smiling croupiers appealed for order….
As the tumult subsided—
"Seven times in ten spins," said Berry. "Well, I think that'll do.
We'll just run up the board on the even chances…."
There was no holding him.
Before I knew where I was, he had set twelve thousand pesetas apiece on
'RED,' 'ODD,' and 'UNDER 19.'
Some fourteen hundred pounds on a single spin.
I covered my eyes …
As the ball began to lose way, the hush was awful….
"Siete (seven)," announced the spokesman.
With my brain whirling, I sought to garner the harvest….
My brother-in-law rose to his feet.
"One last throw," he said. "'PASSE' for 'The Poor.'"
He leaned forward and put the maximum on 'OVER 18.'
A moment later, counter by counter, four hundred and seventy pounds went into the poor-box.
As I pushed back my chair, I glanced at my watch.
In exactly sixteen minutes Berry had stung 'the Bank' to the tune of—as near as I could make it—four thousand nine hundred and ninety-five pounds.
* * * * *
Some ten hours later we slipped out of San Sebastian and on to the famous road which leads to Biarritz. Berry, Daphne, and Jill were in one car, and Adèle and I were in the other. Jonah and Zed were to travel together by train. It was improbable that they would leave for Pau before the morrow.
As we climbed out of Behobie, we took our last look at Spain, that realm of majestic distances and superb backgrounds….
You may peer into the face of France and find it lovely; the more you magnify an English landscape, the richer it will become; but to find the whole beauty of Spain, a man must stand back and lift up his eyes.
Now that we had left it behind, the pride and grandeur of the scenery beggared description. It was as though for days we had been looking upon a mighty canvas, and while we had caught something of its splendour, now for the first time had we focussed it aright. The memory we took away was that of a masterpiece.
Anxious to be home in time for luncheon, I laid hold of the wheel….
We whipped through St. Jean de Luz, sang through Bidart, and hobbled over a fearful stretch of metalling into Bayonne….
As we were nearing Bidache—
"How much," said Adèle suddenly, "is Berry actually up?"
"Allowing for everything," said I, "that is, his losses, what he gave to the poor, and the various rates of exchange, about two hundred and forty thousand francs."
"Not so dusty," said Adèle thoughtfully. "All the same——"
A report like that of a gun blew the sentence to blazes.
Heavily I took the car in to the side of the road….
A second tire went upon the outskirts of Pau.
Happily we had two spare wheels….
As I was wearily resuming my seat, Berry, Daphne, and Jill went by with a cheer.
Slowly we followed them into the town….
It was not until we were stealing up our own villa's drive that at length I remembered the question which for over an hour I had been meaning to put to my wife.
As I brought the car to a standstill—
"What was it," I demanded, "that you had begun to say when we had the first burst near Bidache? We were talking about how much Berry was up, and you said——"
The most blood-curdling yell that I have ever heard fell upon our ears.
For a moment we stared at one another.
Then we fell out of the car by opposite doors and flew up the steps….
Extended upon a chair in the hall. Berry was bellowing, clawing at his temples and drumming with his heels upon the floor.
Huddled together, Daphne and Jill were poring over a letter with starting eyes.
DEAR SIR,
In case the fact has not already come to your notice, we hasten to inform you that as a result of the drawing, which took place on Monday last, one of the Premium Bonds, which we yesterday dispatched to you per registered post, has won the first prize of fr. 500,000 (five hundred thousand francs).
By way of confirmation, we beg to enclose a cutting from the official Bulletin.
We should, perhaps, point out that, in all announcements of the results of drawings, the '0' or 'zero,' which for some reason invariably precedes the number of a Premium Bond, is disregarded.
Awaiting the pleasure of your instructions,
We beg to remain, dear sir,
Your obedient servants,
—————
* * * * *
It was perhaps five hours later that my memory again responded, and I turned to Adèle.
"The dam burst," said I, "at the very moment when you were going to tell me what you had been about to say when the first tire went outside Bidache. Sounds like 'The House that Jack built,' doesn't it?"
"Oh, I know," said Adèle, laughing. "But it's no good now. I was going to say——"
The door opened, and Falcon came in with a wire.
I picked up the form and weighed it thoughtfully.
"Wonderfully quick," I said. "It was half-past two when I was at the Bank, and I couldn't have been at the Post Office before a quarter to three. I looked at my watch. Just under four hours."
"The Bank?" said Adèle, staring. "But you said you were going to the
Club."
I nodded.
"I know. I was anxious to raise no false hopes. All the same, I couldn't help feeling that half a million francs were worth a tenpenny wire. Therefore I telegraphed to Jonah. His answer will show whether that tenpenny wire was worth half a million francs."
My wife snatched the form from my hand and tore it open.
It was very short.
Bonds repurchased Jonah.
* * * * *
But my memory never recovered from the two-fold slight.
To this day I cannot remember to ask Adèle what it was that she had been about to say when the first tire burst outside Bidache.
CHAPTER X
HOW BERRY SOUGHT COMFORT IN VAIN, AND NOBBY SLEPT UPON A QUEEN'S BED.
Time was getting on.
The season at Pau was approaching the end of its course. Already villas and flats and servants were being engaged for the winter to come. We had been asked definitely whether we proposed to return and, if so, whether we wished again to occupy the excellent villa we had. Not knowing what answer to make to the first question, we had passed to the second—somewhat illogically. The second had proved more heatedly disputable than the first. Finally Jill had looked up from a letter to Piers and put in her oar with a splash.
"The villa's all right," she announced. "Everyone says it's the best, and so should we, if we didn't live in it. It's what's inside that's so awful. Even one decent sofa would make all the difference."
In silence we pondered her words.
At length—
"I confess," said Berry, "that the idea of having a few chairs about in which you can sit continuously for ten minutes, not so much in comfort as without fear of contracting a bed-sore or necrosis of the coccyx, appeals to me. Compared with most of the 'sitzplatz' in this here villa, an ordinary church pew is almost voluptuous. The beastly things seem designed to promote myalgia."
"Yet they do know," said I. "The French, I mean. Look at their beds."
"Exactly," replied my brother-in-law. "That's the maddening part of it. Every French bed is an idyll—a poem of repose. The upholsterer puts his soul into its creation. A born genius, he expresses himself in beds. The rest of the junk he turns out…" He broke off and glanced about the room. His eye lighted upon a couch, lozenge-shaped, hog-backed, featuring the Greek-Key pattern in brown upon a brick-red ground and surrounded on three sides by a white balustrade some three inches high. "Just consider that throne. Does it or does it not suggest collusion between a private-school workshop, a bricklayer's labourer, and the Berlin branch of the Y.W.C.A.?"
"If," said Daphne, "it was only the chairs, I wouldn't mind. But it's everything. The sideboard, for instance——"
"Ah," said her husband, "my favourite piece. The idea of a double cabin-washstand is very beautifully carried out. I'm always expecting Falcon to press something and a couple of basins to appear. Then we can wash directly after the asparagus."
"The truth is," said Adèle, "these villas are furnished to be let. And when you've said that, you've said everything."
"I agree," said I. "And if we liked Pau enough to come back next autumn, the best thing to do is to have a villa of our own. I'm quite ready to face another three winters here, and, if everyone else is, it 'ld be worth while. As for furniture, we can easily pick out enough from Cholmondely Street and White Ladies."
There was a moment's silence.
Then—
"I'm on," said Jonah, who had caught three splendid salmon in the last two days. "This place suits me."
"And me," said Adèle warmly.
My sister turned to her husband.
"What d'you think, old chap?"
Berry smiled beatifically. A far-away look came into his eyes.
"I shall personally superintend," he announced, "the removal and destruction of the geyser."
Amid some excitement the matter was then and there decided.
The more we thought upon it, the sounder seemed the idea. The place suited us all. To have our things about us would be wholly delightful. Provided we meant for the future to winter abroad, we should save money.
Pleasedly we proceeded to lunch.
Throughout the meal we discussed what manner of house ours must be, situation, dimensions, aspect. We argued amiably about its garden and curtilage. We determined to insist upon two bathrooms. By the time the cheese was served, we had selected most of the furniture and were bickering good-temperedly about the style of the wall-papers.
Then we rang up a house-agent, to learn that he had no unfurnished villa "to let" upon his books. He added gratuitously that, except for a ruined château upon the other side of Tarbes, he had nothing "for sale" either.
So soon as we had recovered, we returned to the charge…
The third agent we addressed was not quite certain. There was, he said, a house in the town—très solids, très serieuse, dans un quartier chic. It would, he thought, be to our liking. It had, for instance, une salle de fête superbe. He was not sure, however, that it was still available. A French gentleman was much attracted, and had visited it three times.
We were greatly disgusted and said so. We did not want a house in the town. We wanted….
Finally we succumbed to his entreaties and promised to view the villa, if it was still in the market. He was to ring us up in ten minutes' time….
So it happened that half an hour later we were standing curiously before the great iron gates of a broad shuttered mansion in the Rue Mazagran, Pau, while the agent was alternately pealing the bell for the caretaker and making encouraging gestures in our direction.
Viewed from without, the villa was not unpleasing. It looked extremely well-built, it stood back from the pavement, it had plenty of elbow room. The street itself was as silent as the tomb. Perhaps, if we could find nothing else…. We began to wonder whether you could see the mountains from the second floor.
At last a caretaker appeared, I whistled to Nobby, and we passed up a short well-kept drive.
A moment later we had left the sunlight behind and had entered a huge dim hall.
"Damp," said Berry instantly, sniffing the air. "Damp for a monkey. I can smell the good red earth."
Daphne sniffed thoughtfully.
"I don't think so," she said. "When a house has been shut up like this, it's bound to——"
"It's wonderful," said her husband, "what you can't smell when you don't want to. Never mind. If you want to live over water, I don't care. But don't say I didn't warn you. Besides, it'll save us money. We can grow moss on the floors instead of carpets."
"It does smell damp," said Adèle, "but there's central heating. See?" She pointed to a huge radiator. "If that works as it should, it'll make your carpets fade."
Berry shrugged his shoulders.
"I see what it is," he said. "You two girls have scented cupboards. I never yet knew a woman who could resist cupboards. In a woman's eyes a superfluity of cupboards can transform the most poisonous habitation into a desirable residence. If you asked a woman what was the use of a staircase, she'd say, 'To put cupboards under.'"
By now the shutters had been opened, and we were able to see about us. As we were glancing round, the caretaker shuffled to a door beneath the stairs.
"Here is a magnificent cupboard," she announced. "There are many others."
As we passed through the house, we proved the truth of her words. I have never seen so many cupboards to the square mile in all my life.
My wife and my sister strove to dissemble their delight. At length
Cousin Jill, however, spoke frankly enough.
"They really are beautiful. Think of the room they give. You'll be able to put everything away."
Berry turned to me.
"Isn't it enough to induce a blood-clot? 'Beautiful.' Evil-smelling recesses walled up with painted wood. Birthplaces of mice. Impregnable hot-beds of vermin. And who wants to 'put everything away'?"
"Hush," said I. "They can't help it. Besides—— Hullo! Here's another bathroom."
"Without a bath," observed my brother-in-law. "How very convenient! Of course, you're up much quicker, aren't you? I suppose the idea is not to keep people waiting. Come along." We passed into a bedroom. "Oh, what a dream of a paper! 'Who Won the Boat-race, or The Battle of the Blues.' Fancy waking up here after a heavy night. I suppose the designer was found 'guilty, but insane.' Another two cupboards? Thanks. That's fifty-nine. And yet another? Oh, no. The backstairs, of course. As before, approached by a door which slides to and fro with a gentle rumbling noise, instead of swinging. The same warranted to jam if opened hastily. Can't you hear Falcon on the wrong side with a butler's tray full of glass, wondering why he was born? Oh, and the bijou spiral leads to the box-room, does it? I see. Adèle's American trunks, especially the five-foot cube, will go up there beautifully. Falcon will like this house, won't he?"
"I wish to goodness you'd be quiet," said Daphne. "I want to think."
"It's not me," said her husband. "It's that Inter-University wall-paper. And now where's the tower? I suppose that's approached by a wire rope with knots in it?"
"What tower?" said Adèle.
"The tower. The feature of the house. Or was it a ballroom?"
"Ah," I cried, "the ballroom! I'd quite forgotten." I turned to the agent. "Didn't you say there was a ballroom?"
"But yes, Monsieur. On the ground-floor. I will show it to you at once."
We followed him downstairs in single file, and so across the hall to where two tall oak doors were suggesting a picture-gallery. For a moment the fellow fumbled at their lock. Then he pushed the two open.
I did not know that, outside a palace, there was such a chamber in all France. Of superb proportions, the room was panelled from floor to ceiling with oak—richly carved oak—and every handsome panel was outlined with gold. The ceiling was all of oak, fretted with gold. The floor was of polished oak, inlaid with ebony. At the end of the room three lovely pillars upheld a minstrels' gallery, while opposite a stately oriel yawned a tremendous fireplace, with two stone seraphim for jambs.
In answer to our bewildered inquiries, the agent explained excitedly that the villa had been built upon the remains of a much older house, and that, while the other portions of the original mansion had disappeared, this great chamber and the basement were still surviving. But that was all. Beyond that it was once a residence of note, he could tell us nothing.
Rather naturally, we devoted more time to the ballroom than to all the rest of the house. Against our saner judgment, the possession of the apartment attracted us greatly. It was too vast to be used with comfort as a sitting-room. The occasions upon which we should enjoy it as 'une salle de fête,' would be comparatively few. Four ordinary salons would require less service and fuel. Yet, in spite of everything, we wanted it very much.
The rest of the house was convenient. The parlours were fine and airy; there were two bathrooms; the bedrooms were good; the offices were admirable. As for the basement, we lost our way there. It was profound. It was also indubitably damp. There the dank smell upon which Berry had remarked was most compelling. In the garden stood a garage which would take both the cars.
After a final inspection of the ballroom, we tipped the caretaker, promised to let the agent know our decision, and, to the great inconvenience of other pedestrians, strolled talkatively through the streets towards the Boulevard.
"I suppose," said Adèle, "those were the other people."
"Who were the other people?" I demanded.
"The two men standing in the hall as we came downstairs."
"I never saw them," said I. "But if you mean that one of them was the fellow who's after the house, I fancy you're wrong, because the agent told me he'd gone to Bordeaux."
"Well, I don't know who they were, then," replied my wife. "They were talking to the caretaker. I saw them through the banisters. By the time we'd got down, they'd disappeared. Any way, it doesn't matter. Only, if it was them, it looks as if they were thinking pretty seriously about it. You don't go to see a house four times out of curiosity."
"You mean," said Berry, "that if we're fools enough to take it, we'd better get a move on."
"Exactly. Let's go and have tea at Bouzom's, and thrash it out there."
No one of us, I imagine, will ever forget that tea.
Crowded about a table intended to accommodate four, we alternately disputed and insulted one another for the better part of two hours. Not once, but twice of her agitation my sister replenished the teapot with Jill's chocolate, and twice fresh tea had to be brought. Berry burned his mouth and dropped an apricot tartlet on to his shoe. Until my disgust was excited by a nauseous taste, I continued to drink from a cup in which Jonah had extinguished a cigarette.
Finally Berry pushed back his chair and looked at his watch.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "we came here this memorable afternoon to discuss the advisability of taking a certain messuage—to wit, the Villa Buichi—for the space of three years. As a result of that discussion I have formed certain conclusions. In the first place, I am satisfied that to dwell with you or any of you in the Villa Buichi or any other habitation for the space of three years presents a prospect so horrifying as to belittle Death itself. Secondly, while my main object in visiting the said messuage was to insure, if possible, against the future contraction of some complaint or disease of the hams, I have, I fear, already defeated that object by sitting for upwards of ninety minutes upon a chair which is rather harder than the living rock, and whose surface I have reason to believe is studded with barbs. Thirdly, whilst we are all agreed that a rent of fourteen thousand francs is grotesque, I'd rather pay twice that sum out of my own pocket than continue an argument which threatens to affect my mind. Fourthly, the house is not what we want, or where we want it. The prospect of wassailing in your own comic banqueting-hall is alluring, but the French cook believes in oil, and, to us, living in the town, every passing breeze will offer indisputable evidence, not only of the lengths to which this belief will go, but of the Pentateuchal effects which can be obtained by a fearless application of heat to rancid blubber. Fifthly, since we can get nothing else, and the thought of another winter in England is almost as soul-shaking as that of living again amid French furniture, I suppose we'd better take it, always provided they fill up the basement, put on a Mansard roof, add a few cupboards, and reduce the rent. Sixthly, I wish to heaven I'd never seen the blasted place. Lastly, I now propose to repair to the Cercle Anglais, or English Club, there in the privacy of the lavabo to remove the traces of the preserved apricot recently adhering to my right shoe, and afterwards to ascertain whether a dry Martini, cupped in the mouth, will do something to relieve the agony I am suffering as the direct result of concentrating on this rotten scheme to the exclusion of my bodily needs. But there you are. When the happiness of others is at stake, I forget that I exist."
With that, he picked up his hat and, before we could stop him, walked out of the shop.
With such an avowal ringing in our ears, it was too much to expect that he would remember that he had ordered the tea, and had personally consumed seven cakes, not counting the apricot tart.
However…
I followed him to the Club, rang up the agent, and offered to take the house for three years at a rent of twelve thousand francs. He promised to telephone to our villa within the hour.
He was as good as his word.
He telephoned to say that the French gentleman, who had unexpectedly returned from Bordeaux, had just submitted an offer of fourteen thousand francs. He added that, unless we were prepared to offer a higher rent, it would be his duty to accept that proposal.
After a moment's thought, I told him to do his duty and bade him adieu.
* * * * *
That night was so beautiful that we had the cars open.
As we approached the Casino—
"Let's just go up the Boulevard," said Daphne. "This is too lovely to leave."
I slowed up, waited for Jonah to come alongside, and then communicated our intention to continue to take the air.
The Boulevard being deserted, Ping and Pong proceeded slowly abreast….
A sunset which had hung the sky with rose, painted the mountain-tops and turned the West into a blazing smeltery of dreams, had slowly yielded to a night starlit, velvety, breathless, big with the gentle witchcraft of an amber moon. Nature went masked. The depths upon our left seemed bottomless; a grey flash spoke of the Gave de Pau: beyond, the random rise and fall of a high ridge argued the summit of a gigantic screen—the foothills to wit, odd twinkling points of yellow light, seemingly pendent in the air, marking the farms and villas planted about their flanks. And that is all. A row of poplars, certainly, very correct, very slight, very elegant, by the way that we take for Lourdes—the row of poplars should be recorded; the luminous stars also, and a sweet white glow in the heaven, just where the ridge of the foothills cuts it across—a trick of the moonlight, no doubt…. Sirs, it is no such trick. That misty radiance is the driven snow resting upon the peaks of the Pyrenees. The moon is shining full on them, and, forty miles distant though they are, you see them rendering her light, as will a looking-glass, and by that humble office clothing themselves with unimaginable splendour.
As we stole into the Place Royale—
"Every minute," announced Adèle, "I'm more and more thankful that we're quit of the Villa Buichi. We should have been simply mad to have taken a house in the town."
"There you are," said Berry. "My very words. Over and over again I insisted——"
"If you mean," said Jonah, "that throughout the argument you confined yourself to destructive criticism, deliberate confusion of the issues, and the recommendation of solutions which you knew to be impracticable, I entirely agree."
"The trouble with you," said Berry, "is that you don't appreciate the value of controversy. I don't blame you. Considering the backlash in your spinal cord, I think you talk very well. It's only when——"
"What exactly," said Adèle, bubbling, "is the value of controversy?"
"Its unique ability," said Berry, "to produce the truth. The hotter the furnace of argument, the harder the facts which eventually emerge. That's why I never spare myself. I don't pretend it's easy, but then I'm like that. Somebody offers you a drink. The easiest way is to refuse. But I don't. I always ask myself whether my health demands it."
There was an outraged silence.
Then—
"I have noticed," I observed, "that upon such occasions your brain works very fast. Also that you invariably choose the—er—harder path."
"Nothing is easier," said Berry, "than to deride infirmity." Having compassed the Place Royale, we returned to the Boulevard. "And now, if you've quite finished maundering over the beauties of a landscape which you can't see, supposing we focussed on the object with which we set out. I've thought out a new step, I want to show you. It's called 'The Slip Stitch.' Every third beat you stagger and cross your legs above the knee. That shows you've been twice to the Crusades. Then you purl two and cast four off. If you're still together, you get up and repeat to the end of the row knitways, decreasing once at every turn. Then you cast off very loosely."
Happily the speaker was in the other car, so we broke away and fled up the Rue du Lycée….
The dancing-room was crowded. Every English visitor seemed to be there, but they were not all dancing, and the floor was just pleasantly full.
As we came in, I touched Adèle on the arm.
"Will you dance with me, lass?"
I was not one moment too soon.
As I spoke, two gallants arrived to lodge their claims.
"I've accepted my husband," said Adèle, smiling.
She had to promise the next and the one after.
Whilst we were dancing, she promised the fourth and the fifth.
"I can see," said I, "that I'm in for my usual evening. Of course, we're too highly civilised. I feed you, I lodge you, I clothe you"—I held her off and looked at her—"yes, with outstanding success. You've a glorious colour, your eyes are like stars, and your frock is a marvel. In fact, you're almost too good to be true. From your wonderful, sweet-smelling hair to the soles of your little pink feet, you're an exquisite production. Whoever did see such a mouth? I suppose you know I married you for your mouth? And your throat? And—but I digress. As I was saying, all this is due to me. If I fed you exclusively on farinaceous food, you'd look pale. If I locked you out of nights, you'd look tired. If I didn't clothe you, you'd look—well, you wouldn't be here, would you? I mean, I know we move pretty fast nowadays, but certain conventions are still observed. Very well, then. I am responsible for your glory. I bring you here, and everybody in the room dances with you, except myself. To complete the comedy, I have only to remind you that I love dancing, and that you are the best dancer in the room. I ask you."
"That's just what you don't do," said Adèle, with a maddening smile.
"If you did…."
"But——"
"Certain conventions," said Adèle, "are still observed. Have I ever refused you?"
"You couldn't. That's why I don't ask you."
"O-o-oh, I don't believe you," said Adèle. "If it was Leap Year——"
"Pretend it is."
"—and I wanted to dance with you——"
"Pretend you do."
The music stopped with a crash, and a moment later a Frenchman was bowing over my wife's hand.
"May I come for a dance later?" he asked.
"Not this evening. I've promised the next four——"
"There will, I trust, be a fifth?"
"—and, after that, I've given my husband the lot. You do understand, don't you? You see, I must keep in with him. He feeds me and lodges me and clothes me and——"
The Frenchman bowed.
"If he has clothed you to-night, Madame, I can forgive him anything."
We passed to a table at which Berry was superintending the icing of some champagne.
"Ah, there you are!" he exclaimed. "Had your evening dance? Good. I ordered this little hopeful pour passer le temps. They've two more baubles in the offing, and sharp at one-thirty we start on fried eggs and beer. Judging from the contracts into which my wife has entered during the last six minutes, we shall be here till three." Here he produced and prepared to inflate an air-cushion. "The great wheeze about these shock-absorbers is not to——"
There was a horrified cry from Daphne and a shriek of laughter from
Adèle and Jill.
"I implore you," said my sister, "to put that thing away."
"What thing?" said her husband, applying the nozzle to his lips.
"That cushion thing. How could you——"
"What! Scrap my blow-me-tight?" said Berry. "Darling, you rave. You're going to spend the next four hours afloat upon your beautiful toes, with a large spade-shaped hand supporting the small of your back. I'm not. I'm going to maintain a sitting posture, with one of the 'nests for rest' provided by a malignant Casino directly intervening between the base of my trunk and the floor. Now, I know that intervention. It's of the harsh, unyielding type. Hence this air-pocket."
With that, he stepped on to the floor, raised the air-cushion as if it were an instrument of music, and, adopting the attitude and manners of a cornet soloist, exhaled into the nozzle with all his might.
There was a roar of laughter.
Then, mercifully, the band started, and the embarrassing attention of about sixty pairs of eyes was diverted accordingly.
A moment later my brother-in-law and I had the table to ourselves.
"And now," said Berry, "forward with that bauble. The Rump Parliament is off."
Perhaps, because it was a warm evening, the Casino's furnaces were in full blast. After a while the heat became oppressive. Presently I left Berry to the champagne and went for a stroll in the Palmarium.
As I was completing my second lap—
"Captain Pleydell," said a dignified voice.
I turned to see Mrs. Waterbrook, leaning upon a stick, accompanied by a remarkably pretty young lady with her hair down her back.
I came to them swiftly.
"Have you met with an accident?" I inquired.
"I have. I've ricked my ankle. Susan, this is Captain Pleydell, whose cousin is going to marry Piers. Captain Pleydell, this is Susan—my only niece. Now I'm going to sit down." I escorted her to a chair. "That's better. Captain Pleydell, have you seen the Château?"
"Often," said I. "A large grey building with a red keep, close to the scent-shop."
"One to you," said Mrs. Waterbrook. "Now I'll begin again. Captain
Pleydell, have you seen the inside of the Château?"
"I have not."
"Then you ought," said Mrs. Waterbrook, "to be ashamed of yourself.
You've been six months in Pau, and you've never taken the trouble to go
and look at one of the finest collections of tapestries in the world.
What are you doing to-morrow morning?"
"Going to see the inside of the Château," I said.
"Good. So's Susan. She'll meet you at the gate on the Boulevard at half-past ten. She only arrived yesterday, and now her mother wants her, and she's got to go back. She's wild to see the Château before she goes, and I can't take her because of this silly foot."
"I'm awfully sorry," said I. "But it's an ill wind, etc."
"Susan," said Mrs. Waterbrook, "that's a compliment. Is it your first?"
"No," said Susan. "But it's the slickest."
"The what?" cried her aunt.
"I mean, I didn't see it coming."
I began to like Susan.
"'Slickest,'" snorted Mrs. Waterbrook. "Nasty vulgar slang. If you were going to be here longer, Captain Pleydell's wife should give you lessons in English. She isn't a teacher, you know. She's an American—with a silver tongue. And there's that wretched bell." She rose to her feet. "If I'd remembered that Manon had more than three acts, I wouldn't have come." She turned to me. "Is Jill here to-night?"
"She is."
"Will you tell her to come and find us in the next interval?"
"I will."
"Good. Half-past ten to-morrow. Good night."
On the way to the doors of the theatre she stopped to speak with someone, and Susan came running back.
"Captain Pleydell, is your wife here?"
I nodded.
"Well, then, when Jill's with Aunt Eleanor, d'you think I could—I mean, if you wouldn't mind, I'd—I'd love a lesson in English."
I began to like Susan more than ever.
"I'll see if she's got a spare hour to-morrow," I said. "At half-past ten."
Susan knitted her brows.
"No, don't upset that," she said quickly. "It doesn't matter. I want to be able to tell them I had you alone. But if I could say I'd met your wife, too, it'd be simply golden."
As soon as I could speak—
"You wicked, forward child," I said. "You——"
"Toodle-oo," said Susan. "Don't be late."
Somewhat dazedly I turned in the direction of the salle de danse—so dazedly, in fact, that I collided with a young Frenchman who was watching the progress of le jeu de boule. This was hardly exhilarating. Of the seven beings gathered about the table, six were croupiers and the seventh was reading Le Temps.
I collided roughly enough to knock a cigarette out of my victim's hand.
"Toodle-oo—I mean pardon, Monsieur. Je vous demande pardon."
"It's quite all right," he said, smiling. "I shouldn't have been standing so far out."
I drew a case from my pocket.
"At least," I said, "you'll allow me to replace the cigarette"—he took one with a laugh—"and to congratulate you upon your beautiful English."
"Thank you very much. For all that, you knew I was French."
"In another minute," said I, "I shall be uncertain. And I'm sure you'd deceive a Frenchman every time."
"I do frequently. It amuses me to death. Only the other day I had to produce my passport to a merchant at Lyons before he'd believe I was a foreigner."
"A foreigner?" I cried, with bulging eyes. "Then you are English."
"I'm a pure-bred Spaniard," was the reply. "I tell you, it's most diverting. Talk about ringing the changes. I had a great time during the War. I was a perfect mine of information. It wasn't strictly accurate, but Germany didn't know that. As a double-dyed traitor, they found me extremely useful. As a desirable neutral, I cut a great deal of ice. And now I'm loafing. I used to take an interest in the prevention of crime, but I've grown lazy."
For a moment or two we stood talking. Then I asked him to come to our table in the dancing-room. He declined gracefully.
"I'm Spanish enough to dislike Jazz music," he said.
We agreed to meet at the Club on the following day, and I rejoined
Berry to tell him what he had missed.
I found the fifth dance in full swing and my brother-in-law in high dudgeon.
As I sat down, he exploded.
"This blasted breath-bag is a fraud. If you blow it up tight, it's like trying to sit on a barrel. If you fill it half full, you mustn't move a muscle, or the imprisoned air keeps shifting all over the place till one feels sick of one's stomach. In either case it's as hard as petrified bog-oak. If you only leave an imperial pint in the vessel, it all goes and gathers in one corner, thus conveying to one the impression that one is sitting one's self upon a naked chair with a tennis-ball in one's hip-pocket. If one puts the swine behind one, it shoves one off the seat altogether. It was during the second phase that one dropped or let fall one's cigar into one's champagne. One hadn't thought that anything could have spoiled either, but one was wrong."
I did what I could to soothe him, but without avail.
"I warn you," he continued, "there's worse to come. Misfortunes hunt in threes. First we fool and are fooled over that rotten villa. Now this balloon lets me down. You wait."
I decided that to argue that the failure of the air-cushion could hardly be reckoned a calamity would be almost as provocative as to suggest that the immersion of the cigar should rank as the third disaster, so I moistened the lips and illustrated an indictment of our present system of education by a report of my encounter with Susan.
Berry heard me in silence, and then desired me to try the chairs at the
Château, and, if they were favouring repose, to inquire whether the
place would be let furnished. Stifling an inclination to assault him,
I laughed pleasantly and related my meeting with the engaging Spaniard.
When I had finished—
"How much did you lend him?" inquired my brother-in-law. "Or is a pal of his taking care of your watch?"
The fox-trot came to an end, and I rose to my feet.
"The average weight," I said, "of the spleen is, I believe, six ounces.
But spleens have been taken weighing twenty pounds."
"Net or rod?" said Berry.
"Now you see," I continued, "why you're so heavy on the chairs."
With that, I sought my wife and led her away to watch the Baccarat….
Before we had been in the gaming room for twenty seconds, Adèle caught me by the arm.
"D'you see that man over there, Boy? With a bangle on his wrist?"
"And a shirt behind his diamond? I do."
"That's one of the men I saw in the Villa Buichi."
"The devil it is," said I. "Then I take it he's the new lessee. Well, well. He'll go well with the ballroom, won't he?"
It was a gross-looking fellow, well-groomed and oily. His fat hands were manicured and he was overdressed. He gave the impression that money was no longer an object. As if to corroborate this, he had been winning heavily. I decided that he was a bookmaker.
While I was staring, Adèle moved to speak with a friend.
"And who," said a quiet voice, "is attracting such faithful attention?"
It was the Spaniard.
"You see that fat cove?" I whispered. "He did us out of a house to-day. Overbid us, you know."
My companion smiled.
"No worse than that?" he murmured. "You must count yourselves lucky."