Safe Custody and Laughing Bacchante

by Dornford Yates

  I lifted an arm, in the hope that she would see it. Then I turned to the business of reaching the bank.

  I will not set down in detail how I achieved this end, for it cannot be of much interest and it would take too long. Enough that it was not easy, that, being very tired, right at the last, I stumbled and must have lost my race, had not Colette had the wit to see the help I needed and to thrust it into my hands.

  I was only four feet from the bank and I still had my rope. Had this been attached to the bank, and not to the tree, by hauling upon it I could have pulled myself in: but when I hauled upon it, I pulled myself upstream and away from the bank. In an effort to counter this trend, I took a false step, and I had to throw out my right hand to save myself from falling against a rock. And then I was off my balance and could not get my right hand back to the rope. And there I hung, with the water, now only waist deep, swirling and gobbling about me and putting such a drag on the half of my body it had that the muscles of my left arm were cracking beneath the strain.

  And then twigs brushed my face . . .

  Colette had bent down a sapling and guided it into my arms.

  I clutched it with my right hand.

  Its trunk was slender enough, but its roots were firm, and they and my rope, between them, held me safe. So for perhaps two minutes. Then another sapling came down, and on that was lying the cord with which I had bound the kit bag upon Colette’s back. This she had doubled twice over, and when I pulled upon it, I knew it was fast to some tree.

  So I came out of the water and onto dry land.

  Now whether or no I fainted, I cannot say, but the next thing that I remember is that I was stripped to the waist and Colette was kneeling across me, chafing my chest and my sides.

  I had not the strength to sit up, but I cried her name.

  She lowered her face to mine.

  “Better, my darling?”

  “The gems,” I said. “Where are they?”

  “The cursed things,” said Colette, “are lying beside your head.”

  I began to laugh, and Colette returned to her labor, jerking out speech as she worked.

  “Are you surprised that I hate them? They almost cost you your life. What are they all beside one hair of your head? You risk your life ten times over to get them as far as this; and then, when your strength has failed, you give them to me to carry—and let your life go. Because He loves you, the good God gave it back. It is either that, or you are a demi-god; for Hercules himself could hardly have fought that water and won his match. And if he had, he would have done thirteen labors, instead of twelve.”

  Here I begged her to stop her work on my chest and ribs, for her indignation was venting itself on my skin, and, indeed, I was very much better and almost fit to proceed.

  “But for Colette,” I said, as I sat up, “neither I nor the gems would be here. I do not think that we should have got so far. But we should have got no further—and that’s God’s truth. And now, my beauty, I think that we should get on. We are still in the danger zone, and we do not want to be taken upon the last lap.”

  Colette was wringing the water out of my shirt.

  “You cannot wear this, Adam.”

  I took it out of her hand.

  “It will soon get dry,” I said. “And I would sooner wear it than carry it on my back.”

  I shall never know how we covered those last few miles, for I was half dead and Colette could hardly stand up. With my arm about her shoulders, I shambled along somehow, the kit bag bound to my back. Now and again we stopped for five minutes or so, but only where I could lean against a rock or a tree, for I dared not sit down, for fear that, if I did, I should be unable to rise.

  We were, of course, a long way behind our time, and the sun was up before we had left the valleys and reached the region no frontier guards patrol. But, perhaps because it was Sunday, we were not stopped or fired on, although I think that a smuggler would have had his heart in his mouth.

  It was very near half past six when I saw three figures ahead.

  “It’s Jasper and Bell,” shrieked Colette. “And another I do not know.”

  “Try Andrew Palin,” I croaked—and there my legs gave way, and I fell down on the ground.

  Colette was down on her knees.

  “Adam, Adam, my darling.”

  “It’s quite all right, my beauty. It’s when you see help is at hand that your muscles give way.” I threw a glance over my shoulder. “Kiss me quickly, great heart, for they wouldn’t understand.”

  Colette threw her arms about me and held me tight. Then she bent her head and kissed me upon the lips.

  “Light of my eyes,” I murmured . . .

  When the three came over the ridge, I was asleep in her arms.

  Bell was kneeling beside me, shaking my arm.

  “Miss Colette says you’re all right, sir, but I’ve never seen you so pale.”

  “I’m quite all right, Bell. But I’m devilish tired.”

  Palin was kneeling upon the opposite side.

  “You don’t look too good, Chandos. You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

  I raised myself on an elbow.

  “Look here,” I said, laughing, “this isn’t holy ground. And I’m not going to die just yet. I’ll say I’m tired. And, like the sainted Paul, I have fought with beasts.”

  “I do hope you did murder,” said Palin. “Just for the look of the thing. It makes it so much more romantic.”

  “I did Friar in,” I said, laughing. “But that was an execution—he wasn’t fair to Goat.”

  “Most unfair,” said Palin. “In fact, he was more than unfair. He was almost rude. And you were rude back. What a very beautiful thought!”

  “That’ll do,” said I. “You were asking after my health. Let me say, once for all, that I am organically sound. But see to Colette, will you? But for her, I shouldn’t be here. And that’s God’s truth. But she can hardly stand up, and she doesn’t weigh very much. D’you think you could carry her, Palin? I’d do it, if I was able—and she deserves the best.”

  “Consider it done,” said Palin, and got to his feet.

  “You take the kit bag, Bell, and hitch it onto your back.”

  “And Orris, sir?” said Bell, as he was doing my bidding. “I—contributed to his death . . . but he almost got me, Bell. Sloper was dead right. I tore him off me at last, but he never let go.”

  Bell was nodding his head.

  “I was always afraid of him, sir. He had a look of Casemate about him. An’ all day yesterday I couldn’t get him out of my mind.”

  “You’re perfectly right,” I said. “He had a look of Casemate. So history repeats herself, for they both of them got a long way—and both of them failed.”

  Casemate was a mean fellow—an underling rogue; but that Mansel is living today was not his fault.

  And then came Jasper.

  “Well, Jasper,” I said, with my hand in his, “you would have me take the lad.”

  “I am proud that you did so, sir.”

  “When you answered for his courage, you were on very sure ground. He has one of the greatest hearts that I have ever known. He has been my rod and my staff. Had I not taken him with me, I must have lost my life.”

  Tears began to trickle down Jasper’s cheeks.

  “I have no words,” he said simply. “My cup is full.”

  A few moments later, our strange procession took shape. First Palin, with Colette in his arms. Then myself, between Bell and Jasper, an arm about either’s neck. And Bell was bearing the kit bag upon his back.

  I held the party back, for though I did my best, I could hardly move my legs and kept on falling asleep. Indeed, I shall never know how we got as far as we did, before Palin and Bell and Jasper came into view; for Colette and I had come to the end of our tether some time before that, but each, I think, was reluctant to let the other down.

  So we came back to Jade, at about a quarter past ten. . . of a lovely summer morning. . . just as the bells
were knolling the peasants to church.

  Chapter 8. Present Laughter

  When I woke, I was in my tent, and Colette was sitting still, with her eyes on my face.

  “Hullo, my sweet,” I said. “And how do you feel?”

  “I am only just up,” she said, “and I am perfectly well. But how are you, my darling? You do not look as you did at The Vat of Melody.”

  “I’m quite all right,” I said. “But I think I shall always be tired for the rest of my life. Send me Bell, will you, sweetheart? And come back in half an hour.”

  “I’m here, sir,” said Bell, from behind me. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

  “As good as new, Bell. Did I look very bad?”

  Bell spoke between his teeth.

  “Never again, sir,” he said. “I’ll never let you out of my sight.”

  “Never again,” I said. “I promise you that. By the way, are the gems all right?”

  “Under that blanket, sir.”

  Whilst I was making my toilet, Palin arrived.

  “If the half,” he said, “of what Colette says is true, I ought to have left my shoes outside your tent.”

  “I’ll overlook it,” I said. “And what do you know?”

  “No more than you do,” said Palin, “and probably not as much. A wire went off to Mansel at midday yesterday. ‘All well,’ it said, as arranged. It seemed an understatement, but let that go.”

  “Yesterday?” said I. “What day is it now?”

  “It’s just four o’clock on Monday afternoon. You’re sure you’re all right, Chandos? You look fine-drawn.”

  “Sound as a bell,” I said. “I’m only tired.”

  “Breakfast?”

  I wrinkled my nose.

  “Not very much. A cup of coffee, perhaps, and a piece of toast. My appetite will return, but it will have to be lured.”

  Colette, of course, brought me my breakfast and made me eat. But once I was bathed and shaved, I felt a new man.

  I lighted a cigarette.

  “Tell me your story, Colette. You know what happened to me, but—”

  “I have no idea,” screamed Colette, “what happened to you. In an effort to emulate Bell, I have waited till now to be told. And the effort has told upon me. I know you fell into the water, from which, against all reason, you came out alive. But I do not know why you fell in or why the rope only took us halfway across.”

  “D’you mean,” I said, “you don’t know why I failed to land?”

  “How should I, Adam dearest? I know that the rope stopped swinging almost at once. And so I did as you said and climbed into the tree. When you did not follow, I tried to take hold of the rope, but this was in the grip of the water and you did not seem to be there. I nearly fainted then, but somehow or other I made my way down the trunk and so to the ground. I was standing by the side of the torrent—I think I was crying your name, when out of the boiling water I saw an animal climbing onto a rock. I thought that it was a seal, for it had the look of a seal, only it moved so slowly, as though it was very tired. And then I knew it was you.

  “I watched you climb onto the rock, and there you sat down, with the water racing about you, and sank your head on your chest. I was sure that you had been injured—I had no doubt. I cried, but you could not hear me, and after a minute or two, you began to sway. This terrified me, so I ran for something to throw. I found a piece of stick, and I threw it and saw you wave. And then, a long time after, I saw you close to the bank.”

  “And brought me ashore, great heart—God save your pretty face.”

  Colette blew me a kiss. Then—

  “And now please tell me, Adam, why you fell down.”

  “When I left the bank,” I said, “I was carrying you on my back and Orris about my legs.”

  Colette’s eyes widened in horror.

  “Orris,” she breathed. “It was Orris?”

  “We were hanging, all three together, over the stream.” Colette shut her eyes.

  “God in heaven,” she breathed. “And you held on until I was up in the tree.” She opened her eyes. “Did you kill the vermin, Adam?”

  “I had to do with his death.”

  Shortly I told her what happened from the time when I left the bank to the time when I reached the rock.

  “You must hand it to Orris,” I said. “He knew how to do his stuff.”

  “I hand him nothing, Adam. Orris was only a jackal. The whole of that day he never dared to attack. But when you were badly placed, he summoned up courage to run between your legs.”

  She may or may not have been right. I cannot pretend to say. I think it is clear that Orris’ hatred of me overruled his desire for the gems. If it comes to that, it also overruled his desire to live, for he must have known that to cast me into that water would cost him his life. Yet, he did as he did. And, as I told Colette, you must give the devil his due. For his job was to bring me down—and he very near did.

  Had the weights been there, I could not have appeared that night. But Colette appeared, as usual, and Palin, as I had predicted, far more than took my place. He could speak and sing Italian and was an immense success; his improvised scene with Colette took the house by storm, and when Jasper and he were together, I nearly died laughing, although I could understand but a quarter of what was said.

  He was a great acquisition, as I had known he would be, and I think he enjoyed every moment, for he was a born showman. That he should fall for Colette was natural enough; and, though she did not accept them, she did not reject his addresses out of hand. This, frankly, did my heart good, for Andrew Palin was one of the very best; and he treated Colette as he treated Olivia Ferrers, which shows, I think, that he found her a lady of high degree.

  And so she was. Many a time I have wondered who was her father. She did not know; she scarcely remembered her mother. She had no name but Colette. I sometimes think that Jasper worshiped her mother, who died of love for somebody greater than he. But that is pure speculation; for Colette knew nothing at all, and Jasper never talked.

  We passed from Jade to Gala, from Gala to Eglantine. Each time we moved, I sent a note to Mansel, c/o The Heart of Gold. And then, on a Saturday evening, a week to the hour since I had sat watching the sunset above the smuggler’s way, I looked up to see him standing in the mouth of my tent.

  “Oh, very good,” said I. “Very good, indeed.”

  “All well, William?”

  I glanced at the blanket beside me.

  “They’re under that. Bell and Palin and I take turns to sit here. I’m growing used to them now, but I shan’t be sorry to get them off my hands.”

  “You took them out of the weights?”

  I began to laugh.

  “Yes,” I said. “I took them out of the weights. And now sit down, for I’m going to tell you a tale that will take a month from your life.”

  Mansel sat down, smiling.

  “You never cabled till Sunday. That told me that someone or something had put a spoke in your wheel.”

  I told him my tale.

  When I came to Odin’s lapse, he covered his face with his hands.

  “Not a month,” he said. “A year. Even though all is well, it makes me feel weak at the knees.”

  “I don’t believe I’ll ever be quite the same.”

  “I know,” said Mansel. “I’ve had some. Such things are bad for the soul. Never mind. Let me have Act Two.”

  By the time my tale was done, the performance was about to begin, so Bell and Carson took over, and Mansel and I went to sit at the back of “the house.” And when the show was over, I introduced Mansel to Jasper and then to Colette.

  Mansel bowed to Colette. Then he took her small hand and put it up to his lips.

  “I’m not going to thank you,” he said. “One doesn’t thank great ladies for being themselves. But I’m very glad you were there. Apart from the fact that I value William’s life, to have you beside him must have meant everything.”

  Colette dropped
her eyes, and the color came into her face. As once before, I picked her up and set her down on my shoulder.

  “That is how,” I said, “she deserved to come home.”

  “I deserve nothing,” said Colette. “I found it a great adventure. And I would do it with Adam all over again.”

  “But not with me,” said Mansel.

  Colette’s fingers gripped my shoulder.

  “Only with Adam,” she said. “Others might have got there, but Adam’s the only man who could have got back.”

  Mansel smiled up at her. Then he put up his arms and lifted her down. On her way to the ground he held her, so that her pretty face was level with his.

  “We’ve a bond in common,” he said.

  Colette looked him full in the eyes. Then she said something to him which I could not hear. And Mansel nodded and set her cheek against his.

  At supper I sat, as usual, on Jasper’s left, and Colette between Palin and me. But Mansel would not sit upon Jasper’s right. Instead, he took his seat with the smaller fry, whom he had put at their ease before one minute was out. And before the end of supper, Odin was actually standing behind his seat, with an eye to his plate and his glass, which, so far as I know, he never had done before. But that was always the way, for Mansel induced a very respectful devotion wherever he went. His manner was very easy and his address superb, but his powerful personality seemed to warm people’s hearts. Strangers would do for him what they would not do for friends, and yet he never cajoled them or “played them up.” He was always perfectly natural in all that he said and did, but he had that indefinable presence which very few are born with and none can ever acquire.

  It was past eleven o’clock when we bade the others good night, and Mansel, Palin, and I repaired to my tent. And while Mansel told his tale, Carson and Bell were moving in the shadows outside.

  “From what you tell me, William, the efforts I made to divert attention from you were of little avail. I fancy the truth is this—that the Boche, being well aware of his own incompetence, determined, as children do, to follow a better man. The police had their hand upon Friar. The latter had taken them straight to Wagensburg. Very well. Friar should lead them again, and when he had run us to earth, the Boche would come in. His hold upon Friar appears to have been rather loose, but I think it unlikely that he could have left the district, unless he had done as you did and forced the frontier. And that is a thing that Friar could never have done. He would never have tried to do it, for thieves have other ways of getting their booty out.