Safe Custody and Laughing Bacchante

by Dornford Yates

  It was now midday, so Stiven was roused and sent to bathe as he could at the neighbouring rill, for now he would have to play sentry until we had lunched. While he was gone, Hubert told us that Harris, though he had plied him, would take no food at his hand, but that Punter, who knew no such scruples, had eaten and drunk with relish for half an hour. The latter had even commended the food which Hubert produced—it was that which our host had made ready the night before—and, warming, I suppose, to the cheer, had ventured to offer his companion some rude philosophy. This, however, had been very ill received, and Harris had been so outspoken upon the imperfections of Punter’s habit of mind that Hubert had had to threaten to put his gag back in his mouth.

  Then Stiven took up his duty and we returned to the inn. Though this stood but two miles away, long before we got there my cousin was fast asleep.

  Lady Olivia knitted her beautiful brow.

  “I’ve only one fault,” she said, “to find with your plan. If you spend the night deporting Harris and Punter, you won’t be fit to argue with Bugle and Bunch. And you may have to do that to-morrow—at nine o’clock. In any event, you’ll have to talk to the steward and play the grand seigneur, and in view of the fact that you’re more than half asleep now . . . She broke off and shrugged her shoulders. “This is not an attempt to mother you. I’m merely pointing out facts which, if your eyes were less heavy, you wouldn’t have missed.”

  There was a little silence. Then—

  “She’s right,” said Palin. “If we got as far as the Tyrol, we’d never get back. We’re all at the end of our tether, and that’s the truth.”

  “If we don’t deport them,” said I, “they’ve got to be watched.”

  Palin started and shot a glance at his wrist.

  “Gomorrah calling,” he cried. “I’ve got to take over from Stiven in half an hour.” With an effort he got to his feet. “Wake me in twenty minutes. The flesh must be served.”

  With an awful look, he shambled into the inn.

  “There you are,” said Lady Olivia.

  The position was plainly awkward.

  Hubert was still in the Rolls, sleeping upon its cushions as though he would never wake: Stiven was far from rested: after his spell of duty, Palin would be ‘all in’: and though I could hold up my head, it was all I could do. Leave our prisoners we dared not, in case some peasant should find them and set them free: yet we could not spare the strength to deport them as we had arranged, because we might have to give battle the following day.

  Lady Olivia was speaking.

  “You’ll have to enlarge them this evening, some fifty miles off.”

  “I believe we shall,” I said faintly. “It’s utter madness, but I don’t know what else we can do.”

  “Why is it utter madness?”

  “Harris is dangerous,” I said. “It’s like enlarging a wolf.”

  My lady tilted her chair.

  “You can hardly shoot him,” she said. “And if he’s out for trouble, it won’t make very much difference how far you take him away. Of course you must give yourself time to get into Hohenems before he contrives to get back.”

  “I know,” said I. “The honest truth is that, now that we’ve got him, I don’t like letting him go. We’ve put ourselves out of court, or I’d go to the police. But how can we tell them the truth? And if there’s an interpreter there, we might very well be hoist with our own petard. His photograph’s on my passport—I’ll lay to that.”

  “You can take him to Hohenems.”

  “But not till to-morrow,” said I. “And how can we watch him all night? It could be done by reliefs, but, as you’ve pointed out, to-morrow morning, we shouldn’t be able to stand.”

  “Then why watch him?” said Lady Olivia. “Truss him up and leave him and go to bed.”

  I shook my head.

  “It sounds all right,” said I. “But when we came the next morning, he wouldn’t be there. Punter might, but not Harris. He ought to be behind bars.”

  The girl averted her eyes.

  “Well, he’s made an impression,” she said. “I’ll give him that.”

  Her words could have but one meaning, and I know I went red.

  “Let’s hope it’s a false one,” said I. “Impressions sometimes are.” I got to my feet. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to turn out the car.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Lady Olivia. I stood where I was. “We’ve never mentioned the point, but are you and your cousin willing that I should come in?”

  “There’s only one answer to that,” said I.

  “I must have it, please.”

  I moistened my lips.

  “We’re more than grateful,” I said. “We should be mad if we weren’t.” I hesitated there and raised my eyes to the sky. “But if you come in, you must promise to do as we say.”

  “What?”

  The word flamed.

  I looked down to find her standing, her grey eyes alight with anger, regarding me as though I were less than the dust.

  I gave her back look for look.

  “I can’t answer for my cousin,” I said, “but that’s the condition I impose. This is a man’s show—you said so yourself this morning—and if there’s trouble coming I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Now what she would have answered, I do not know. The words were upon her lips, but before she could speak them, across the woods and meadows, faint but unmistakable, came the sound of a pistol shot.

  If I was tired, I forgot it before that ominous report, and I ran for the Rolls, as a man who runs for his life.

  Shouting to Hubert, to wake him, I flung myself into my seat, and an instant later had backed the car out of the coach-house and swung her to the side of the yard. As I paused, to change into first, a slim figure whipped aboard and took the seat beside me without a word.

  “Get down, I beg you,” I cried.

  By way of answer, Lady Olivia slammed the door at her side.

  There was no time to argue, much less to stop: so I set my teeth, lifted the car from the forecourt and let her go.

  As we flashed up the road—

  “Try and wake my cousin,” I said. I saw her glance over her shoulder, but the glass behind us was raised.

  As she made to get on to the step, I caught her arm.

  “Not that,” I cried. “You might slip. I’m going too fast.”

  I saw her bite her lip. Then she turned to kneel on the seat and put out her head. . . .

  “Mr. Constable,” she cried. “Mr. Constable!”

  We were five hundred yards from the barn, when a man broke out of a thicket some seventy paces ahead. As he darted on to the road, I saw it was Harris himself.

  I drove the car full at him, but he must have guessed who it was, for before I could cover the distance, he had flung himself over the road. As I brought up the car all standing, he disappeared in a wood.

  An instant later I was in hot pursuit.

  Now, as luck would have it, when I had come in that morning, I had laid my pistol aside, proposing to take it before I should go on duty, but glad to be rid of the weapon until that time. Still, if I had no arms, at least my quarry had none, unless he had overcome Stiven and taken his.

  He was, I suppose, some twenty-five paces ahead when I entered the wood, but I very soon lessened that distance, and when he took to some path I was not ten paces behind. Till now I had heard no sound but that which our steps had made, but now we had left the leaves and the undergrowth, I could hear my cousin coming to catch us up. For this I was very thankful, for the spurt which I had been making was beginning to lose its sting, and the weariness I had sent packing was coming back. There might have been some leak in my body through which my strength was rapidly ebbing away, and I very soon saw that, if I could overtake Harris, I could only hope to engage him till Hubert came up, for the man was powerfully built and, God knows, had had enough rest for the last six hours.

  I increased my pace with an effort and brought
the distance down, but I saw him glance over his shoulder as one who has something in hand: but I had nothing, and he was taking from me even that which I had. This determined me to overtake him somehow as soon as ever I could, for else he was bound to outrun me and pass out of view. But once my hands were upon him, he should not fight himself free before Hubert came up. And this I knew must be soon, for Hubert was fresh: what was still more to the point, the sound of his footfalls had ceased, which meant he was clear of the bushes and was using the path.

  Again Harris glanced behind him, and, since the path was falling, I made my spurt the moment he turned his head.

  I shall always remember that place.

  The wood went down to a meadow: between the trees I could see the brilliant sunshine flooding a gay greensward. To the right of the path a gentle spring of water was welling out of a pipe, to flow down a wooden gutter, which led, no doubt, to some trough: the gutter was stuck with ferns and overlaid with moss, and, because, I suppose, it was choked, a lively fringe of silver was hanging down all its length.

  As I flung myself at Harris, the man swerved sharp to his left. I suppose he had heard my footfalls, but had the fellow had eyes in the back of his head, he could not have timed more truly the movement he made. I overran him, of course, for I could not pull myself up, and before I could turn he was upon me, for the ground was now in his favour, as it had been in mine.

  Had he fallen clean upon me, I think I must have been hurt, but, such was the force of his onslaught that, while he brought himself down, I fell just clear of his body and almost into the field. I was up as soon as he, but as I flung myself at him, my heart stood still with dismay, for the path behind him was empty and Hubert was not to be seen.

  The battle now was hopeless, and why I continued to fight I hardly know. I had not the strength to shout, much less to detain the villain, if once he tried to be gone: but for what it was worth, I sought to hang upon him, as a weary boxer that cannot hit his opponent, but seeks to avoid being hit.

  The rest I remember but dimly.

  I know he rained blows upon me and presently fought himself free, and then again we were grappling and swaying and stumbling and cursing, like men possessed. He beat me down to my knees, but I caught his ankles and brought him down to the ground. Before I could seize this advantage, the man was up on his feet, and as I rose up to meet him, I heard a shriek. This cry was my salvation, for he had his arm drawn back to deal me the coup de grâce, but, instead, he turned to the meadow and an instant later was racing over the sward.

  I stumbled uncertainly after him, trying to shout, but my head was swimming and my knees and feet were unruly, and after a dozen paces the meadow seemed to tilt sideways and I fell down on my face.

  Beneath the touch of cold water, I presently opened my eyes, to find Hubert kneeling beside me, and looking into my face.

  “He’s gone,” said I, sitting up. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “About two minutes,” said Hubert. “How do you feel?”

  “We’ve got the car,” I said. “We must get to Hohenems first. And when he rolls up, as he will, we’ll have him again.”

  “That’s right,” said my cousin. “You must rest awhile, and I’ll fix everything up.”

  “Lady Olivia,” said I, “is to stay at the inn.” I struck the ground with my palm. “She simply must not move until we’ve got Harris again. He’s a dangerous swine, that man. And the hairs of her head are numbered—or ought to be in our sight. Where is she now?”

  When he made no answer, I would have got to my feet, but two hands came to rest on my shoulders and held me down.

  “Sit still,” said Lady Olivia. “I’m quite all right. Besides, you’ve done enough for the moment. In fact, if I were you, I should go to sleep. I’ll stay here within call. Mr. Constable can leave me his pistol, in case of accidents.”

  The pressure on my shoulders increasing, I shut my eyes and lay down, feeling exceedingly foolish to think she had heard what I said. Indeed, I made up my mind that, after resting a moment I would take her back to the inn, but almost before I had formed this resolution, Nature had her way with me and I fell asleep.

  Again the cool touch of water haled me out of my dreams, and I opened my eyes to see the girl sitting beside me with a handkerchief wet in her hand.

  “I was sorry to wake you,” she said. “But the dew is falling, and I think you should make a move.”

  I saw at once that it was sundown, and though I could hardly believe that I had slept for five hours, I felt more lazy than tired, and my head, which had been aching hurt me no more. My face, however, was very stiff and tender from the battery I had received.

  Not feeling fully awake and so fit to converse, I propped myself on my elbow and let my eyes wander around, and when at last I brought them back to the lady I saw to my relief that she was looking away. They rested naturally upon her, and I shall always believe that the sight of her did me good.

  She was clad, of course, as at luncheon, in a simple dress of grey tweed, which suited her very well. Her head was bare and she was sitting sideways, in the careless pose of a child, with one hand planted on the turf and her slim legs making an angle against the green. She was looking down, and her beauty seemed more gentle than I had seen it before.

  Presently she lifted her eyes.

  “I should like to beg your pardon,” she said. “I thought you were afraid of Harris. And now I know that you were thinking of me.”

  “Oh, that’s all right,” said I. “Besides, for the matter of that, I’m afraid I was pretty blunt.”

  She lifted her eyes from mine and stared at the sky.

  “I’ll—I’ll do as you say—in reason.”

  I felt suddenly very rich.

  “That’s very handsome,” I said. “I—I wouldn’t have you miss any fun: and I’ll never do anything without telling you first. But, if it looks like a rough house—well, we can’t have you getting hurt.”

  “And what about you? To tackle that man was madness. You couldn’t stand up.”

  “That’s a different matter,” said I. “The quarrel with Harris is mine. Besides, I thought Hubert was coming.”

  “So he was,” said Lady Olivia. “But he was still half asleep when he tripped and fell. That woke him up all right: but by the time he was up, you and Harris were out of earshot and he didn’t know which way to go. Then we came to the path. He chanced it and turned to the right, while, just in case he was wrong, I turned to the left.”

  “And routed Harris,” said I. “I heard your cry.” I sat up there and started to pluck at the grass. “Lady Olivia, please don’t think I’m not grateful, because I am. If you hadn’t shrieked when you did, the brute would have laid me out. But you must see the danger you ran. If he’d dreamed that you were alone, he’d have knocked me out, and then you’d have been at his mercy—the mercy of a man like that.”

  “Then don’t give me any reason to do it again.”

  “I have your promise,” said I.

  “In reason,” said she. “ ‘I’ll do as you say in reason’ was what I said. Take care of yourself, Mr. Ferrers, and you shall take care of me.”

  After a little—

  “Very well,” I said obediently.

  I stood up and put out my hands. She gave me hers and I drew her up to her feet.

  As I picked up Hubert’s pistol—

  “It was very sweet of you,” I said, “to watch whilst I slept.”

  “I don’t think it’s sweet of a sentry to do his job.”

  “It depends on the sentry,” said I.

  With a little petulant gesture, she pushed back her thick, dark hair.

  “Can’t you forget that I’m Olivia Haydn? Must I go in breeches and stop putting cream on my face?”

  “It’s not that at all,” said I. “If Palin had sat and watched me for full five hours, don’t you think I’d thank him? I mean, it’s a rotten job. It wouldn’t be sweet of Palin, because he’s not sweet. But it would
be very decent.”

  She made no answer, and since my face was smarting, I stepped to the trough and dipped my head in the water which was trickling in from the gutter and stealing over its sides.

  When I turned again, for a moment I could not see her. Then I perceived her sitting on a root of a beech-tree, with her fair legs crossed and one of her slippers in hand. As she put this back on her foot, she made me think of some Dryad, completing her dainty toilet before she set out for a stroll.

  “You know,” said I, “you seem to belong to this place.”

  She looked up quickly.

  “What makes you say that?” she said.

  “I don’t know,” said I, “but you do. I think it’s something about you. The first time I saw you—on horseback, you seemed to belong to that place. I mean, you were right in the picture. I can see the spot now. There was an oak beyond you, and one of its branches was stretching over your head: and a little way back the road curled over a bridge. And then again this morning—when you were up at the window and I was down in the yard.”

  “Did I belong to the window?”

  “Yes,” said I. “When I brought the car in before luncheon, and you weren’t there, the window looked like a frame. I suppose all windows do really, but I never noticed it before. And now this place. I think you make things lovely wherever you go.”

  Lady Olivia was stooping to pick a flower.

  “We must go,” she said over her shoulder. “The Rolls has been waiting since six. And—and—” she stood up, gloriously flushed “—you can call me Olivia, and I’m going to call you John.”

  To this day we cannot be sure how Harris escaped. The cords which had bound him had both been roughly cut, and our discovery of a battered meat-tin, lying near where he had lain, suggested that this was the implement which he had used. The operation must have been lengthy and inconvenient, and how he had contrived to perform it without either Hubert or Stiven perceiving that he was at work, I cannot pretend to tell.