Jonah and Co.

by Dornford Yates

CHAPTER VI

HOW BERRY RAN CONTRABAND GOODS, AND THE DUKE OF PADUA PLIGHTED JILL HIS TROTH

That Jill was in love with the Duke of Padua was only less manifest than that the Duke of Padua was in love with Jill. Something, however, was wrong. So much our instinct reported. Our reason refused to believe it, and, with one consent, we pretended that all was well. For all that, there lay a shadow athwart the babies' path. Yet the sky was cloudless…. The thing was too hard for us.

With a sigh, I opened my case and took out a cigarette. Then I handed the case to Berry. The latter waved it aside and wrinkled his nose.

"I'm through," he said shortly. "Offal's all very well in an incinerator, if the wind's the right way, but, as a substitute for tobacco—well, it soon palls."

I closed the case and slid it into my pocket.

"I must confess," I said, "that I'm nearing the breaking-point."

"Well, I wish you'd be quick and reach it," said Adèle. "How you can go on at all, after finding that fly, I can't imagine."

She shuddered at the memory.

Less than a week ago a suspicious protuberance in the line of a local cigarette had attracted my attention. Investigation had revealed the presence of a perfect, if somewhat withered, specimen of the musca domestica imbedded in the vegetation which I had been proposing to smoke. This was too much for the girls, none of whom had since touched a cigarette, and when my brother-in-law suggested that the fly had probably desired cremation, and urged that, however obnoxious, the wishes of the dead should be respected, Daphne had reviled her husband and requested Jonah to open the door, so that she could sit in a draught.

We were in a bad way.

Now that we were in France, the difficulty of obtaining cigars, cigarettes, or tobacco, such as we were used to enjoy, seemed to be insuperable. The prohibitive duty, the uncertainty and by no means infrequent failure of the French mails, brought the cost of procuring supplies from England to a figure we could not stomach: attempts at postal smuggling had ended in humiliating failure: the wares which France herself was offering were not at all to our taste. We were getting desperate. Jonah, who had smoked the same mixture for thirteen years, was miserable. Berry's affection for a certain brand of cigars became daily more importunate. My liver was suffering….

"We'd better try getting a licence to import," I said heavily. "It may do something."

"Ah," said my brother-in-law, drawing a letter from his pocket, "I knew I had some news for you. I heard from George this morning. I admit I don't often take advice, but this little missive sounds an unusually compelling call.

"Above all, do not be inveigled into obtaining or, worse still, acting upon, a so-called 'licence to import.' It is a copper-bottomed have. I got one, when I was in Paris, gleefully ordered five thousand cigarettes from Bond Street, and started to count the days. I soon got tired of that. Three months later I got a dirty form from the Customs, advising me that there was a case of cigarettes, addressed to me, lying on the wharf at Toulon—yes, Toulon. They added that the charges to be paid before collection amounted to nine hundred francs by way of duty, eleven hundred and sixty-five by way of freight, and another three francs forty for every day they remained in the Custom House. In this connection, they begged to point out that they had already lain there for six weeks. Friend, can you beat it? But what, then, did I do? Why, I took appropriate action. I wrote at once, saying that, as I was shortly leaving for New York, I should be obliged if they would forward them via Liverpool to the Piraeus: I inquired whether they had any objection to being paid in roubles: and I advised them that I was shortly expecting a pantechnicon, purporting to contain furniture, but, in reality, full of mines. These I begged them to handle with great care and to keep in a temperature never higher than thirty-seven degrees Fahrenheit, as they were notoriously sensitive, and I particularly wished to receive them intact. I added that the pantechnicon would be consigned to me under another name. A fair knowledge of the French temperament suggests to me that the next two or three furniture vans which arrive at Toulon will be very stickily welcomed."

I threw away my cigarette and stared at the mountains.

"'Though every prospect pleases,'" I murmured, "'and only fags are vile.'"

"The only thing to do," said Adèle, "is to have a little sent out from
England from time to time, and ration yourselves accordingly."

Berry shook his head.

"Easier to stop altogether," he said. "Tobacco's not like food. (I'm not speaking of the stuff you get here. Some of that is extremely like food—of a sort. I should think it would, as they say, 'eat lovely.') Neither is it like liquor. You don't carry a flask or a bottle of beer in your hip-pocket—more's the pity. But nobody's equipment is complete without a case or a pouch. Why? So that the moment this particular appetite asserts itself, it can be gratified. No. Smoking's a vice; and as soon as you clap a vice in a strait-jacket, it loses its charm. A cigar three times a day after meals doesn't cut any ice with me." He tilted his hat over his eyes and sank his chin upon his chest. "And now don't talk for a bit. I want to concentrate."

Adèle laid a hand upon his arm.

"One moment," she said. "If the car arrives before you've finished, are we to interrupt you?"

"Certainly not, darling. Signal to the driver to stop in the middle distance. Oh, and ask approaching pedestrians to keep on the grass. Should any children draw near, advise their nurse that I have the mumps."

We were sitting upon a seat in the Parc Beaumont, revelling in the temper of the sunshine and the perfection of the air. A furlong away, Daphne, Jill, and Jonah were playing tennis, with Piers, Duke of Padua, to make a fourth. Nobby and a fox-terrier were gambolling upon an adjacent lawn.

Pau has many virtues, all but one of which may, I suppose, be severally encountered elsewhere upon the earth. The one, however, is her peculiar. The place is airy, yet windless. High though she stands, and clear by thirty miles of such shelter as the mountains can give, by some queer trick of Nature's, upon the map of Æolus Pau and her pleasant precincts are shown as forbidden ground. There is no stiff breeze to rake the boulevard: there are no gusts to buffet you at corners: there are no draughts in the streets. The flow of sweet fresh air is rich and steady, but it is never stirred. A mile away you may see dust flying; storm and tempest savage the Pyrenees: upon the gentlest day fidgety puffs fret Biarritz, as puppies plague an old hound. But Pau is sanctuary. Once in a long, long while some errant blast blunders into the town. Then, for a second of time, the place is Bedlam. The uncaught shutters are slammed, the unpegged laundry is sent whirling, and, if the time is evening, the naked flames of lamps are blown out. But before a match can be lighted, the air is still again. And nobody cares. It was an accident, and Pau knows it. Probably the gust had lost its way and was frightened to death. Such a thing will not happen again for two or three months….

"I like Piers," said Adèle suddenly. "But I think he might kiss my hand."

"How dare you?" said I.

"I do really," said Adèle. "He kisses Daphne's and he actually kisses
Jill's."

"That's all wrong," said I. "You don't kiss a maiden's hand."

"Of course you do," grunted Berry. "A well-bred son of Italy——"

"But he isn't a son of Italy. He's English on both sides."

"I'm not talking of his sides," said Berry. "It's a matter of bosom. You may have English forbears, but if they've been Italian dukes for two centuries, it's just possible that they've imbibed something besides Chianti. Personally, I think it's a very charming custom. It saves wiping your mouth, and——"

"Well, why doesn't he kiss my hand?" said Adèle.

"Because, sweetheart, you are—were American. And—he's very punctilious—he probably thinks that a quondam citizen might have no use for such circumstance."

"I should," said Adèle. "I should just love it. I like Piers."

I looked across at my brother-in-law.

"D'you hear that?" I inquired. "She likes him."

Berry shrugged his shoulders.

"I told her not to marry you," he said.

"No, you didn't," said Adèle. "You egged me on."

"Oh, you wicked story," said Berry. "Why, I fairly spread myself on the brutality of his mouth."

"You said he was honest, sober, and hard-working."

"Nonsense," said Berry. "I was talking of somebody else. I have seen him sober, of course, but—— Besides, you were so precipitate. You had an answer for everything. When I spoke of his ears, you said you'd get used to them: and when I asked you if you'd noticed——"

"I shan't," said Adèle. "I mean, I didn't. However, it's done now. And, after all, he's very convenient. If we hadn't got married, I shouldn't have wintered at Pau. And if I hadn't wintered at Pau, I shouldn't have met Piers."

"True," said Berry, "true. There's something in that." He nodded in my direction. "D'you find he snores much?"

"Nothing to speak of," said Adèle. "Used he to?"

"Like the devil," said Berry. "The vibration was fearful. We had to have his room underpinned."

"Oh, he's quite all right now," said my wife. "Indeed, as husbands go, he's—he's very charming."

"You don't mean to say you still love him?"

"I—I believe I do."

"Oh, the girl's ill," said Berry. "Put your head between your knees, dear, and think of a bullock trying to pass through a turnstile. And why 'as husbands go'? As a distinguished consort, I must protest against that irreverent expression."

"Listen," said Adèle, laughing. "All women adore ceremonious attention—even Americans. The ceremonious attentions of the man they love are the sweetest of all. It's the tragedy of every happy marriage that, when comradeship comes in at the door, ceremony flies out of the window. Now, my husband's my king. Once he was my courtier. I wouldn't go back for twenty million worlds, but—I've got a smile for the old days."

"I know," said Berry softly. "I know. Years ago Daphne told me the same. And I tried and tried…. But it wouldn't work somehow. She was very sweet about it, and very wise. 'Ceremony,' she said, 'gets as far as the finger-tips.' I vowed I'd carry it further, but she only smiled…. We retired there and then, ceremoniously enough, to dress for dinner. I'd bathed and changed and got as far as my collar, when the stud fell down my back. I pinched it between my shoulder-blades. At that moment she came to the door to see if I was ready…." He spread out expressive hands. "They talk about the step from the sublime to the ridiculous. We didn't use any stairs; we went down in the lift. After that I gave up trying. A sense of humour, however, has pulled us through, and now we revile one another."

"And so, you see," said Adèle, slipping an arm through mine, "Piers has wares to offer me which you haven't. The shame of it is, he won't offer them. Still, he's very nice. The way in which he solemnly takes us all for granted is most attractive. He's as natural as a baby a year old. He just bows very courteously and then joins in the game. The moment it's over, he makes his bow and retires. We call him Piers: he calls us by our Christian names—and we haven't known him a week. It's not self-confidence; it's just pure innocence."

"I confess it's remarkable," said I. "And I don't wonder you like him.
All the same, I'm sorry——"

"There!" cried Adèle suddenly, pointing across the lawn. "Boy, he's gone in again."

I reached the edge of the ornamental water in time to observe the
Sealyham emerge upon the opposite bank.

"You naughty dog," said I. "You naughty, wicked dog." Nobby shook himself gleefully. "No, don't come across. Go round the other way. Go back!"

The dog hesitated, and, by way of turning the scale, I threw my stick for him to retrieve. As this left my hand, the hook caught in my cuff, and the cane fell into mid-stream….

As Nobby climbed out with the stick, the park-keeper arrived—a crabbed gentleman, in a long blue cloak and the deuce of a stew.

The swans, he said, would be frightened. (There was one swan, three hundred yards away.) Always they were being pursued by bold dogs. Mon Dieu, but it was shameful. That hounds should march unled in the Parc Beaumont was forbidden—absolutely. Not for them to uproot were the trees and flowers planted. Where, then, was my attachment? And I had encouraged my dog. Actually I had made sport for him. He had seen the deed with his eyes….

One paw raised, ears pricked, his little head on one side, his small frame quivering with excitement, his bright brown eyes alight with expectation, a dripping Nobby regarded us….

I took a note from my pocket.

"He is a wicked dog," I said. "There. He pays his fine. As for me, I shall be punished enough. My home is distant, and I was to have driven. Now he is wet and must grow dry, so I must walk. I will think out his punishment as I go." And, with that, I hooked my cane to the delinquent's collar and turned away.

"Pardon, Monsieur." The old fellow came shambling after us. "Pardon, but do not punish him, I pray you." Nobby screwed round his head and looked at him. "Oh, but how handsome he is! Perhaps he did not understand. And I should be sorry to think …" Nobby started towards him and moved his tail. "See how he understands. He has the eyes of a dove." He stooped to caress his protégé. "Ah, but you are cold, my beauty. Unleash him, Monsieur, I pray you, that he may warm himself. I shall not notice him." As I did his bidding, and Nobby capered away, "Bon," he said pleasedly. "Bon. Au revoir, mon beau." He straightened his bowed shoulders and touched his hat. "A votre service, Monsieur."

I returned thoughtfully to where Adèle and Berry were sitting, watching us closely and pretending that we did not belong to them. So far as personal magnetism was concerned, between Nobby and the Duke of Padua there seemed to be little to choose. To judge by results, the two were equally irresistible. In the race for the Popularity Stakes the rest of the males of our party were simply nowhere.

With a sigh, a blue coupé slid past me and then slowed down. The grey two-seater behind it did the same. When I say that Daphne, who loathes mechanics, was seated in the latter conveyance, submitting zealously to an oral examination by Piers regarding the particular functions of the various controls, it will be seen that my recent conclusions were well founded.

"Letters," said Jill, getting out of the coupé. "One for Berry and two for Adèle." She distributed them accordingly. "Fitch brought them up on his bicycle. And Piers' aunt is coming—the one whose villa he's at. I forgot her name, but he says she's awfully nice."

"Splendid," said I. "And now congratulate me. Having tramped the town all the morning, I've got to walk home."

"Why?"

I pointed to Nobby.

"That he may warm himself," I said.

My cousin gave a horrified cry.

"Oh, Boy! And we only washed him last night."

"I'll take him," cried Piers. "I'd like to. And you can drive Daphne back."

I shook my head, laughing.

"It's his master's privilege," I said. "Besides, he's had his scolding, and if I deserted him he'd be hurt. And he's really a good little chap."

"But——"

"My dear Piers," said Daphne, laying a hand on his arm, "rather than risk hurting that white scrap's feelings, my brother would walk to Lyons."

"You will all," said Berry, "be diverted to learn that I am faced with the positively filthy prospect of repairing to London forthwith. After spending a quarter of an hour in an overheated office in New Square, Lincoln's Inn, in the course of which I shall make two affidavits which nobody will ever read, I shall be at liberty to return. Give me the Laws of England."

"Never mind, old chap," said Daphne. "We'll soon be back again. I shall go with you, of course. Ought we to start to-night?"

Considering that there was snow in London, that the visit would entail almost continuous travelling for nearly thirty hours each way, and that my sister cannot sleep in a train, it seemed as if Berry, at any rate, was pulling out of the ruck.

"My sweet," replied my brother-in-law, "I won't hear of it. However, we'll argue it out in private. Yes, I must start to-night."

"You must go?" said Jonah softly.

"Can't get out of it."

"Right." My cousin leaned out of the car. "I'll give you my tobacconist's address. The best way will be to have the stuff decanted and sewn in your coat."

There was a pregnant silence.

Then—

"Saved!" I cried exultantly. "Saved!"

"What d'you mean—'Saved'?" said Berry.

"Hush," said I, looking round. "Not an 'h' mute! This summons of yours is a godsend. With a little ingenuity, you can bring enough contraband in to last us till May."

* * * * *

If our efforts to induce my brother-in-law to see reason were eventually successful, this was no more than we deserved. We made light of the risk of detection, we explained how the stuff could be concealed, we told him the demeanour to assume, we said we wished we were going, we declared it was done every day, we indemnified him against fines, we entreated, we flattered, we cajoled, we appealed to him "as a sportsman," we said it was "only right," we looked unutterable things, and at last, half an hour before it was time for him to start for the station, he promised, with many misgivings and expressions of self-reproach, to see what he could do. Instantly, from being his suppliants, we became his governors; and the next twenty minutes were employed in pouring into his ears the most explicit directions regarding his purchase and disposal of our particular fancies. Finally we made out a list….

He had absolutely refused to allow my sister to accompany him, but we all went down to the station to see him off.

As we were pacing the platform—

"Have you got the list?" said Jonah.

The same question had been asked before—several times.

"Yes," said Berry, "I have. And if anybody asks me again, I shall produce it and tear it into shreds before their eyes."

"Well, for Heaven's sake, don't lose it," said I, "because——"

"To hear you," said Berry, "anybody would think that I was mentally deficient. Anybody would think that I was going to enclose it in a note to the Customs, telling them to expect me on Saturday, disguised in a flat 'at and a bag of gooseberries, and advising them to pull up their socks, as I should resist like a madman. I don't know what's the matter with you."

We endeavoured to smooth him down.

"And if," purred Daphne, "if there should be any—that is—what I mean is, should any question arise——"

Berry laughed hysterically.

"Yes," he said, "go on. 'Any question.' Such as whether they can give me more than five years' hard labour. I understand."

"—get on the telephone to Berwick. He knows the President personally and can do anything."

"Sweetheart," replied her husband, "you may bet your most precious life…. If Berwick wasn't in Paris, I wouldn't touch the business with the end of a forty-foot pole."

"I wish I was going with you," said Daphne wistfully.

Berry took off his hat.

"You are," he said gently, "you are." He laid his hand upon his heart. "I wish I could put the tobacco in the same poor place. But that's impossible. For one thing, lady, you've all the room there is."

Which was pretty good for a king who hadn't been a courtier for nearly nine years.

* * * * *

It was upon the following afternoon that Adèle, who was brushing Nobby, sat back on her heels.

"When Jill," she said, "becomes the Duchess of Padua, what bloods we shall be."

"She isn't there yet," said I.

"Where?"

"My sweet," said I, "I apologise. I was using a figure of speech, which is at once slipshod and American."

"That," said my wife, "is the worst of being English. You're like the Indian tailor who was given a coat to copy and reproduced a tear in the sleeve. Imitation can be too faithful. Never mind. I forgive you."

"D'you hear that, Nobby?" The terrier started to his feet. "Did you hear what the woman said? That we, who have founded precedents from time immemorial—that you and I, who taught America to walk——"

"He's Welsh," said Adèle.

"I don't care. It's scandalous. Who defiled the Well of English? And now we're blamed for drinking the water."

Adèle looked out of the window and smiled at a cloud.

"Once," she said slowly, "once I asked you if you would have known I was an American…. And when you said 'Yes,' I asked you why…. Do you remember your answer? … Of course," she added swiftly, "that was before we were married."

"You beautiful witch," said I. "You unkind, beautiful witch. You've only to touch the water with the tip of your little red tongue to make it pure. You've only to put your lips to it to make it the sweetest music that ever a poor fool heard. You've only to smile like that to make me proud to kiss your shining foot."

"Nobby!" cried Adèle. "Oh, Nobby! Did you hear that? Did you hear what the man said? A real courtier's speech! But how can he kiss my feet when I'm sitting on them?"

I stepped to her side, picked her up, and swung her on to a table.

Then I kissed her sweet insteps.

From her perch my wife addressed the Sealyham.

"It's all right, Nobby," she said relievedly. "He is a king, after all. Only a king would have done that."

As I sat down by her side—

"I'd love to be a queen," cried a voice. "Love to. Wouldn't you like to be a king?"

It was Jill speaking.

The fresh tones came floating up and in at the open window. She could not have heard our words. It was pure coincidence.

Adèle and I sat very still.

"I don't know," said Piers slowly.

"I'll tell you what I'd do," said Jill. "I'd—Piers, what is the matter?"

"Nothing," said Piers.

"There is," said Jill accusingly. "You know there is. I can see it in your eyes. What are you thinking about?"

"I—I don't know," stammered her swain.

"I think you might tell me," said Jill aggrievedly. "I always tell you everything. Once or twice lately you've got all quiet suddenly—I can't think why. Is it because your aunt's coming?"

Piers laughed bitterly.

"Good Heavens, no," he said.

"Well, why is it, then?"

For a moment there was no answer.

Then all of a sudden the sluice-gate of speech was pulled up.

"Oh, Jill, Jill, Jill… I could go on saying your name for the rest of my life! I say it all the way home. I say it as I'm going to sleep. I say it when I wake in the morning… I saw you first at Biarritz. You never knew. I was staying with some Italian people. They've got a place there. And I was alone in the grounds. And then I saw you—with Boy. You looked so wonderful…. All in green you were, standing with your feet close together, and your head on one side. Your hair was coming down, and the sun was shining on it…. I found out who you were, and came to Pau. I wanted to get to know you. I felt I must. And, whenever you all went out, I followed in the two-seater. And then—I got to know you—at St. Bertrand—that wonderful, wonderful day…. I—was—so—awfully—happy…. And now"—his voice sank to a wail—"I wish I hadn't. If only I'd stopped to think…. But I didn't. I just knew I wanted to be with you, and that was all. Oh," he burst out suddenly, "why did I ever do it? Why did I ever follow you—that wonderful day? If I'd dreamed how miserable it'd make me, how miserably wretched I'd be… It's the dreadful hopelessness, Jill, the dreadful hopelessness…. But I can't help it. It's something stronger than me. It's not enough to be with you. I want to touch you: I want to put my arms round your neck: I want to play with your hair…. Of course I'm terribly lucky to be able to kiss your hand, but—— Ah, don't be frightened. I was—only playing, Jill, only pretending. And now I'm going to be all serious again—not quiet, but serious. Good-bye, Madonna. Have you ever seen Pagliacci? Where the fellow bursts into tears? I think I could do that part this afternoon…."

A light padding upon the gravel came to our ears.

Then a car's door slammed.

A moment later Piers' two-seater purred its way down the drive….

Adèle and I continued to sit very still.

Presently I turned to her and raised my eyebrows.

"Hopelessness?" I whispered. "Hopelessness? What on earth does he mean?"

My wife shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

Then she laid a finger upon her lips.

I nodded obediently.

* * * * *

"Yes," said Berry, "you see in me a nervous wreck. My heart's misfiring, I'm over at the knees, and with the slightest encouragement I can break into a cold sweat."

He sank into a chair and covered his eyes….

I had meant to meet him at the station, but the early train had beaten me, so Fitch had gone with the car. Indeed, it was not yet eight o'clock, and Daphne was still abed. That had not prevented us from following Berry into her room, any more than had the fact that no one of us was ready for breakfast. I had no coat or waistcoat: so far as could be seen, Jonah was attired in a Burberry and a pair of trousers: a glance at Adèle suggested that she was wearing a fur coat, silk stockings, and a tortoise-shell comb, while Jill was wrapped in a kimono, with her fresh fair hair tumbled about her shoulders.

Jonah voiced our anxiety.

"You—you've got the goods?"

"They're downstairs," said Berry. "But don't question me. I can't bear it. I'll tell you all in a minute, but you must let me alone. Above all, don't thwart me. I warn you, my condition is critical."

He sighed heavily.

Apparently impressed by his demeanour, Nobby approached, set his paws upon his knee, and licked his face.

"There you are," said Berry, lifting the dog to his lap. "The very fowls of the air pity me. No, it's not a sore, old chap. It's where I cut myself yesterday. But I'm just as grateful. And now lie still, my beauty, and poor old Sit-tight the Smuggler will tell you such a tale as will thicken your blood.

"Upon Friday morning last I purchased a uniform-case. Not a new one—the oldest and most weather-beaten relic I could procure. On Friday evening I packed it. One thousand cigars, five thousand cigarettes, and six pounds of tobacco looked very well in it. My sword, a pair of field boots, breeches, coat—carefully folded to display the staff badges—and my red hat looked even better. I filled up with socks, shirts, puttees, slacks, spurs and all the old emblems of Mars that I could lay my hands on. Finally I leavened the lot with a pound of the best white pepper—to discourage the moths, my fellow, to discourage the moths."

His tone suggesting the discomfiture of the wicked, the Sealyham barked his applause.

"Quite so. Well, I locked the case up and corded it, and precisely at ten o'clock I retired to bed.

"I never remember feeling so full of beans as I did the next morning. I could have bluffed my way across Europe with a barrel of whiskey on a lead. I felt ready for anything. Sharp at a quarter to eleven I was at the station, and one minute later a porter, with the physique of a blacksmith, had the box on his shoulder and my dressing-case in his hand.

"It was as he was preparing to lay his spoils at the feet of the registration-monger that my bearer trod upon a banana-skin…. To say that he took a toss, conveys nothing at all. It was the sort of fall you dream of—almost too good to be true. And my uniform-case, of which he never let go, described a very beautiful parabola, and then came down upon the weigh-bridge, as the swiple of an uplifted flail comes down upon grain….

"Both hinges went, of course. It says much for the box that the whole thing didn't melt then and there. If I hadn't corded it, most of the stuff would have been all over the Vauxhall Bridge Road.

"Well, I was so rattled that I could hardly think. I joined mechanically in the laughter, I assured complete strangers that it didn't matter at all, I carried through the registration like a man in a dream, and I tipped everybody I could see. It was as I was thrusting blindly towards the gates that I first realised that half the people in the place were sneezing to glory. I was still digesting this phenomenon when I sneezed myself….

"Still it never occurred to me. There are times when you have to be told right out. I didn't have to wait long.

"As I presented my ticket, a truck full of luggage was pushed through the gate next to mine. The porters about it were sneezing bitterly. 'Snuff?' said one of them contemptuously. 'Snuff be blarsted! It's pepper!'

"Whether at that moment my stomach in fact slipped or not I am unable to say, but the impression that my contents had dropped several inches was overwhelming.

"I staggered into the Pullman, more dead than alive…. After a large barley and a small water, I felt somewhat revived, but it was not until the train was half-way to Dover that I had myself in hand. I was just beginning under the auspices of a second milk and soda, to consider my hideous plight, when a genial fool upon the opposite side of the table asked me if I had 'witnessed the comedy at Victoria.' Icily I inquired: 'What comedy?' He explained offensively that 'some cuckoo had tried the old wheeze of stuffing pepper in his trunk to put off the Customs,' and that the intended deterrent had untimely emerged. My brothers, conceive my exhilaration. 'The old wheeze.' I could have broken the brute's neck. When he offered me a filthy-looking cigar with a kink in it, and said with a leer that I shouldn't 'get many like that on the other side of the Chops,' I could have witnessed his mutilation unmoved….

"Still, it's an ill wind…. The swine's words were like a spur. I became determined to get the stuff through.

"Grimly I watched the case go on to the boat, to the accompaniment of such nasal convulsions as I had never believed to be consistent with life itself. By way of diverting suspicion, I asked one of the crew what was the matter. His blasphemous answer was charged with such malignity that I found it necessary to stay myself with yet another still lemonade.

"Arrived at Calais, I hurried on board the train.

"The journey to Paris was frightful. The nearer we got, the more dishevelled became my wits. The power of concentration deserted me. Finally, as we were running in, I found that I had forgotten the French for 'moths.' I'd looked it out the night before: I'd been murmuring it all day long: and now, at the critical moment, it had deserted me. I clasped my head in my hands and thought like a madman. Nothing doing. I thought all round it, of course. I thought of candles and camphor and dusk. My vocabulary became gigantic, but it did not include the French equivalent for 'moths.' In desperation I approached my vis-à-vis and, in broken accents, implored him to tell me 'the French for the little creatures which you find in your clothes.'…

"I like the French. If I'd asked an Englishman, he'd have pulled the communication-cord, but this fellow never so much as stared. He just released a little spurt of good-will and then started in, as if his future happiness depended on putting me straight. 'But I was meaning the fleas. Oh, indubitably. Animals most gross. Only last November he himself….' It took quite a lot of persuasion to get him off fleas. Then he offered me lice. I managed to make him understand that the attack was delivered when the clothes were unoccupied. Instantly he suggested rats. With an effort I explained that the things I meant were winged. As the train came to a standstill, he handed me 'chauvesouris.' Bats! I ask you….

"I stepped on to the platform as if I was descending into my tomb. How I got to the baggage-room, I'm hanged if I know; but I remember standing there, shivering and wiping the sweat off my face. Truck by truck the registered baggage appeared….

"I heard my case coming for about a quarter of a mile.

"The architecture of the baggage-room at the Gare du Nord may be crude, but its acoustic properties are superb. The noise which accompanied the arrival of the cortege was simply ear-splitting. I was in the very act of wondering whether, if I decided to retire, my legs would carry me, when, with a crash, my uniform-case was slammed on to the counter three paces away….

"A cloud of pepper arose from it, and in an instant all was confusion. Passengers and porters in the vicinity dropped everything and made a rush for the doors. A Customs official, who was plumbing the depths of a basket-trunk, turned innocently enough to see the case smoking at his elbow, dropped his cigar into some blouses, let out the screech of a maniac and threw himself face downward upon the floor. Somebody cried: 'Women and children first!' And, the supreme moment having arrived, I—I had the brain-wave.

"I stepped to the case and, with most horrible oaths, flung my hat upon the ground, smote upon the counter with my fist and started to rave like a fanatic. I made the most awful scene. I roared out that it was my box, and that it and its contents were irretrievably ruined. Gradually curiosity displaced alarm, and people began to return. I yelled and stamped more than ever. I denounced the French railways, I demanded the station-master, I swore I'd have damages, I tore off the cords, I lifted the lid, I alternately sneezed and raged, and, finally, I took out my tunic and shook it savagely. In vain the excisemen insisted that it was not their business. I cursed them bitterly, jerked an ounce of pepper out of a pair of brogues, and replied that they were responsible….

"It was after I had shaken my second pair of slacks that the officials, with streaming eyes, began to beseech me to unpack the case no further. If only they'd known, I didn't need much inducing. I could see the shape of a cigarette-box under one of my shirts. Of course I argued a bit, for the look of the thing, but eventually I allowed myself to be persuaded and shoved the kit back. Finally they scrawled all over the lid with pieces of chalk, and, vowing the most hideous vengeance and invoking the British Ambassador, I stalked in the wake of my box out of the station.

"I was through.

"I had my dinner in bed. I think I deserved it. Still, I suppose it was indiscreet to have ordered lobster á la Newburg. I have slept better. I was sleeping better at half-past eight the next morning, when a waiter entered to say that there was an official to see me from the Gare du Nord….

"Believing it to be another dream, I turned over and shut my eyes. The waiter approached and, touching me on the arm, repeated his ghastly communication. With a frightful effort I explained that I had the ague and could see nobody for some days. Mercifully he retired, and for a little space I lay in a sort of trance. After a bit I began to wonder what, in the name of Heaven, I was to do. I was afraid to get up, and I was afraid to stay in bed. I was afraid to stop in the hotel, and I was terrified of meeting the official downstairs. I was afraid to leave the case there, and I was still more afraid to take it away. I was getting hungry, and I was afraid to ring for breakfast. It was a positively poisonous position. Finally, after a lot of thought, I got up, bolted the door, unpacked the blasted box and shoved all the tobacco in the drawers of the wardrobe. Luckily there was a key. The kit I disposed naturally enough. Then I had a bath and dressed.

"As I was fastening my collar, the telephone went. It was the Gare du
Nord. I jammed the receiver back.

"As I passed through the hall, a clerk dashed after me 'The Gare du Nord,' he said, 'were insisting upon seeing me about a case of mine.' I replied that I was busy all day, and could see nobody before six o'clock. I didn't mention that my train went at five. It was as well I didn't argue, for, as I left the hotel, a station official entered. I leapt into a taxi and told the driver to go to Notre Dame. Not that I felt like Church, but it was the first place I could think of. Somebody shouted after me, but—well, you know how they drive in Paris. I stopped round the second corner, discharged the taxi, and walked to a restaurant. By rights, I should have been ravenous. As it was, the food stuck in my throat. A bottle of lime-juice, however, pulled me together. After luncheon I went to a cinema—I had to do something. Besides, the darkness attracted me…. I fancy I dozed for a bit. Any way, the first thing I remember was a couple of men being arrested in the lounge of a hotel. It was most realistic. What was more, the clerk who had run after me in the morning and the clerk on the screen might have been twins…. I imagine that my hair rose upon my head, and for the second time it seemed certain that I had mislaid my paunch.

"I got out of the place somehow, to find that it was snowing. For the next hour I drove up and down the Champs Elysêes. I only hope the driver enjoyed it more than I did. At last, when pneumonia seemed very near, I told him to drive to the hotel.

"I fairly whipped through the hall and into the lift. As this ascended, a page arrived at the gate and spoke upward. I didn't hear what he said.

"When I was in a hot bath, the telephone went. I let the swine ring. Finally somebody came and knocked at the door. Of my wisdom I hadn't bolted it, so, after waiting a little, they entered. I lay in the bath like the dead. After a good look round, they went away….

"By twenty past four I'd dressed, and repacked the case. I rang for a porter, told him to shove it on a taxi, and descended to settle my bill. Mercifully, the clerk who had stopped me in the morning was off duty. I could have squealed with delight. I paid my reckoning, tipped about eight people I'd never seen before, and climbed into the cab. Ten minutes later I was at the Quai d'Orsay.

"By the time I was in the wagon lit it was ten minutes to five….

"I sank down upon the seat in silent gratitude. The comfortable glow of salvation began to steal over my limbs. I looked benevolently about me. I reflected that, after all, the last thirty hours of my life had been rich with valuable experience. Smilingly I decided not to regret them. When I thought of the scene in the baggage-room, I actually laughed. Then the conductor put his head in at the door and said that there was somebody to see me from the Gare du Nord."

Berry suspended his recital and buried his face in his hands.

"I shall never be the same again," he said brokenly. "Never again. Up to then I had a chance—a sporting chance of recovery. At that moment it snapped. In a blinding flash I saw what a fool I'd been. If I'd only stayed on the platform, if I'd only gone into the restaurant car, if I'd only locked myself in a lavatory till the train had started, I should have been all right. As it was, I was caught—bending.

"It was the official I'd seen in the morning all right. After a preliminary flurry of ejaculation, he locked the door behind him and began to talk…. Don't ask me what he said, because I didn't hear. When the rope's round your neck, you're apt to miss the subtleties of the hangman's charge. After a time I realised that he was asking me a question. I stared at him dully and shook my head. With a gesture of despair, he glanced at his watch.

"'Monsieur,' he said, 'the train departs. I have sought you all day. The superintendent has told me to speak with you at all costs—to beg that you will lodge no complaint. He is desolated that your baggage was injured. It is a misfortune frightful. He cannot think how it has occurred. But to complain—no. I will tell Monsieur the truth. Twice in the last half-year an English officer's baggage has gone astray. But one more complaint from your Embassy, and the superintendent will be replaced. And in ten short days, Monsieur, he will have won his pension…. Ah, Monsieur, be merciful.'

"I was merciful.

"I waved the fellow away and swore haltingly that I would say nothing.
We mingled a few tears, and he got out as the train was moving….

"And there you are. I'd got my reprieve. Everything in the garden was lovely. But I couldn't enjoy it. My spirits failed to respond." He took the Sealyham's head between his hands and gazed into his eyes.

"O Nobwell, Nob-well!
Had I but seen the fool at half-past eight
As he desired, he would not in the train
Have put the wind up me so hellishly."

There was a moment's silence.

Then Jonah stepped to my brother-in-law and clapped him on the back.

"Brother," he said, "I take my hat off. I tell you frankly I couldn't have done it. I wouldn't have claimed that case at Paris for a thousand pounds."

Clamorously we endorsed his approval.

By way of acknowledgment the hero groaned.

"What you want," said I, "is a good night's rest. By mid-day to-morrow you'll be touching the ground in spots."

"I shan't be touching it at all," said Berry. "If it's nice and warm, I shall have a Bath chair, which you and Jonah will propel at a convenient pace. Nobby will sit at my feet as a hostage against your careless negotiation of gradients." He drew a key from his pocket and pitched it on to a table. "I fancy," he added, "I heard them put the case on the landing: and as I propose, decorative though it is, to remove my beard, perhaps one of you wasters will fetch me a cigarette."

There was a rush for the door.

True enough, the uniform-case was outside.

Jonah and I had its cords off in twenty seconds.

One hinge was broken and some khaki was protruding.

Adèle thrust the key into the lock. This was too stiff for her fingers, so after a desperate struggle, she let me have at the wards….

After an exhausting two minutes we sent for a cold-chisel….

As the lock yielded, Berry appeared upon the scene.

For a moment he stared at us. Then—

"But why not gun-cotton?" he inquired. "That's the stuff to open a broken box with, if you don't like the look of the key. You know, you're thwarting me. And don't try to turn the lid back, because there aren't any hin——"

The sentence was never finished.

As I lifted the lid, my brother-in-law fell upon his knees. With trembling hands he plucked at a Jaeger rug, reposing, carefully folded, upon the top of some underclothes. Then he threw back his head and took himself by the throat.

"Goats and monkeys!" he shrieked. "It's somebody else's case!"

* * * * *

When, twenty-four hours later, a letter arrived from Piers' aunt, inviting us all to tea, we accepted, not because we felt inclined to go junketing, but because we did not wish to seem rude.

We were in a peevish mood. For this the loss of our forbidden fruit was indirectly responsible. The immediate cause of our ill-humour was the exasperating reflection that we were debarred from taking even those simple steps which lead to the restoration of lost luggage. We stood in the shoes of a burglar who has been robbed of his spoils. As like as not, our precious uniform-case was lying at the station, waiting to be claimed. Yet we dared not inquire, because of what our inquiries might bring forth. Of course the authorities might be totally ignorant of its contents. But then, again, they might not. It was a risk we could not take. The chance that, by identifying our property, we might be at once accusing and convicting ourselves of smuggling a very large quantity of tobacco, was too considerable. There were moments when Jonah and I, goaded to desperation, felt ready to risk penal servitude and 'have a dart' at the bait. But Berry would not permit us. If things went wrong, he declared, he was bound to be involved—hideously. And he'd had enough of thin ice. The wonder was, his hair wasn't white…. By the time we had swung him round, our own courage had evaporated.

As for Piers, no one of us had seen or heard from him for five whole days. Ever since his extraordinary outburst upon the verandah, the boy had made himself scarce. While we were all perplexed, Jill took his absence to heart. She mourned openly. She missed her playfellow bitterly, and said as much. And when three days had gone by and the last post had brought no word of him, she burst into tears. The next morning there were rings beneath her great grey eyes. She was far too artless to pretend that she did not care. Such a course of action never occurred to her. She had no idea, of course, that she was in love.

All the same, when upon Wednesday afternoon the cars were waiting to take us to tea with Mrs. Waterbrook, my cousin leaned over the banisters with a bright red spot upon either cheek.

"I say," she cried, "I'm not coming."

One and all, we stared up amazedly.

"Not coming?" cried Daphne. "But, darling——"

Jill stamped her small foot.

"N-no," she said shakily. "I'm not. And—and, if he asks after me, say I'm awfully well, but I felt I wanted a walk. I'm going to take Nobby out."

Her skirts whirled, and she was gone.

Adèle flew after her, while the rest of us stood whispering in the hall. Five minutes later the two descended together. But while we others climbed into the cars, Jill twitched a lead from the rack and took her stand upon the steps, with Nobby leaping for joy about her sides. And when she cried "Good-bye," there was a ring in her tone which sounded too glad to be true.

Mrs. Waterbrook was perfectly charming.

As we were ushered into a really beautiful salon, she rose from a little bureau—a tall, graceful figure, with masses of pretty grey hair and warm brown eyes.

"My dear," she said to Daphne, "what a beautiful creature you are!" She turned to Adèle. "As for you, if I were your husband, I'm afraid I should have a swelled head. Which is he? Ah, I see by the light in his eyes…. Of course, I ought to have called upon you, but I'm lazy by nature, and my car won't be here till to-morrow. And now I must thank you for being so kind to Piers. He ought to be here, of course. But where he is, I don't know. I've hardly seen him since I arrived. He seems to be crazy about his uncomfortable car. Went to Bordeaux and back yesterday—three hundred miles, if you please. I feel weak when I think of it. And now please tell me about yourselves. Beyond that you're all delightful, I've heard nothing from him."

I would not have believed that one woman could entertain five strangers with such outstanding success. Within five minutes Jonah and Daphne were by her side upon the sofa, Adèle was upon the hearth at their feet. Berry was leaning against the mantelpiece, and I was sitting upon the arm of an adjacent chair, describing our meeting with Piers a fortnight ago.

"I don't know his age," I concluded. "I take it he's about nineteen.
But he's got the airs and graces of Peter Pan."

"Piers," said Mrs. Waterbrook, "is twenty-five. His mother was my sister. She married his father when she was seventeen. He was twenty years older than she, but they were awfully happy. The blood's pure English, although the title's Italian. The fief of the duchy goes with it. They were given to Piers' great-grandfather—he was a diplomat—for services rendered. A recent attempt to dispossess the boy mercifully failed." She looked round about her. "By the way, I thought there were six of you. Piers gave me the number, but neither gender nor anything else."

"There's a female to come," said Berry. "But I don't think she will to-day. She's a wayward child. We'll send her round to apologise to-morrow."

Here coffee and chocolate were served.

"I must apologise," said Mrs. Waterbrook, "for giving you no tea. But there you are." She sighed. "What tea you can get in France reminds me of grocer's port. I won't touch it myself, and I haven't the face to offer it to my guests. I usually bring some from England; but I—I didn't this time." She passed a hand across her eyes, as though to brush away a memory. "After all, you needn't come again, need you?"

"But we do the same," said Daphne. "We've given up tea. Up to last week, I clung to a cup before breakfast. But now I've stopped it."

"Yes," said Berry. "It was affecting her brain. Ten minutes after she'd swallowed it, she used to begin to wonder why she married me."

"I believe you," said Mrs. Waterbrook. "You can't drink French tea and be resigned. Now, a cup of well-made chocolate affords relief."

Before Berry could reply, she had pointed to an old china box and said that it contained cigarettes.

If she had said that it was full of black pearls, she could not have created more excitement. Besides, there was a confidence in her tone that set my nerves tingling. It was, I felt sure, no "grocer's port" that she was commending. And I—we, with the exception of Berry, had not smoked a good cigarette for nearly six weeks….

As Jonah handed the box to Daphne, I strove to look unconcerned.

"And if anybody likes cigars," added Mrs. Waterbrook, "there are some in that silver box by Major Pleydell."

Berry started, said, "Oh—er—thanks very much," and opened the box.
Then he took out a cigar, idly enough.

I became conscious that Daphne's and Adèle's eyes were upon me as Jonah brought me the cigarettes. I took one without looking, and stared back. Instantly their eyes shifted to the cigarette in my hand. I followed their gaze, to behold one of the brand which I had smoked invariably for seven years.

Dazedly I looked across at Berry, to see him regarding his cigar with bulging eyes….

As in a dream, I heard Jonah's voice.

"You must forgive my cousins. They're not being rude. To tell you the truth, we've recently had a bereavement. A particularly cherished friend, who was to furnish us all with tobacco for several months, disappeared in sickening circumstances only two days ago. The cigar and the cigarette have revived some painful memories."

Our hostess opened and closed her mouth before replying.

Then—

"What," she said faintly, "what was your—er—cherished friend like?"

Berry started to his feet.

"Both hinges gone," he shouted, "tied up with rope—reeking of pepper——"

Mrs. Waterbrook interrupted him with a shriek.

"He's outside my bedroom," she wailed. "By the side of the tall-boy.
I suppose it's too much to hope that you've got my tea."

"Tea?" we screamed.

"Tea," piped our hostess. "Beautiful China tea. Thirty-five pounds of it. Under the camisoles."

Berry raised his eyes to heaven.

"Modesty forbade us," he said, "to go further than the b-b-b-bust b-b-b-bodices."

* * * * *

It was in the midst of our rejoicing that Piers set foot on the verandah. For a moment he stood staring, pardonably bewildered, at the two smugglers, who were saluting one another respectively with a profound curtsey and the most elaborate of bows. Then he pulled open the great window and stepped hesitatingly into the room.

As he did so, the door was flung open, and a man-servant appeared.

"Mees Mansel," he announced.

Nobby entered anyhow, pleasedly lugging Jill into the room.

"Why, Jill!" cried Daphne. "My dear…. Mrs. Waterbrook, let me introduce——"

"But that's not Miss Mansel!"

It was Piers' voice.

With one accord we turned, staring….

With arm outstretched, the boy was pointing at Jill.

For a moment nobody moved.

Then Piers sprang forward and caught Jill's hands in his.

"Jill!" he panted. "Jill, you're not Miss Mansel?"

"Yes, I am," said Jill steadily.

"But I thought you were married to Boy. I thought—I thought Adèle was
Miss Mansel."

"Oh, Piers," said Jill reproachfully. "And she's got a wedding-ring on."

Piers stared at Jill's hand.

"I—I never thought of that," he said slowly. "I am silly." A wonderful smile came tearing to light his face. "But oh, Jill," he faltered, "I—am—so—awfully—glad!"

Never, I fancy, was love so simply declared.

For a moment Jill looked at him. Then her eyes fell, and an exquisite blush came stealing into her cheeks.

For an instant Piers hesitated. Then he let fall her fingers and turned about, flushing furiously….

Before he had found his tongue, my cousin advanced to her hostess and put out her hand.

"I'm afraid I'm awfully late," she said quietly.

Mrs. Waterbrook stooped and kissed her.

"My darling," she said softly, "it was worth waiting for."