And Berry Came Too

by Dornford Yates

  “And what did Wolsey do?” bubbled Jill.

  “Rose to the occasion,” said Berry. “I can see him now. He just looked round: then he pointed to the mule, whose name was Spongebag. ‘Non Spongebag, sed Shoelift,’ he said.”

  Here the wicket-door was opened, and, Daphne and Jill alighting, Jonah drove off to the coach house to berth the Rolls beside his.

  One by one, we entered – delicately. It was extremely easy to hit your head.

  As I bowed to the presumptuous lintel—

  “Captain Pleydell, sir?” said the night-porter.

  “That’s right,” said I.

  “I’ve a telephone message for you, sir.” He turned to a pigeon-hole. “Come through about ten o’clock.”

  I glanced at the note. Then I called to the others and read the message aloud.

  Very much regret to say the Knave cannot be found. Gave him his dinner myself at half past four, but has not been seen since. Respectfully suggest the dog may have gone off to find you.

  Falcon.

  When I say that the news shocked us, I am speaking no more than the truth. For one thing, we had no doubt that the butler’s surmise was correct; never before had all of us left the Knave. For another, the roads were death traps: the Knave had never run free upon anything greater than a lane. Finally, we cherished the dog. On the day that he came to White Ladies, an unsteady scrap of a playmate that knew no gospel but that of faith and goodwill, he scrambled into our hearts, and now, after twenty-two months, his understanding and beauty, his devotion and handsome ways had made him as much one of us as a dog could be. He was ‘lovely and pleasant in his life’: and now, though he came direct, that life was to be imperilled for seventy treacherous miles.

  After a dreadful silence—

  “What do we do?” said Daphne. “My brain’s a blank.”

  “We go to meet him,” said I. “Not now, but tomorrow morning, as soon as it’s light.”

  “That’s right,” said Berry. “We go to bed early tonight, and at dawn on Monday morning—”

  “Monday?” screamed Jill. “You can’t wait till—”

  “I meant ‘today’,” said I. “We’d better tell the porter to call us at five.”

  “I see,” said Berry, thoughtfully. “If we don’t clean our teeth, that’ll give us a good two hours.” He laughed wildly. “What did I come here for? To be able to sleep. And now you suggest… Of course, you must be out of your mind. We shan’t be able to see straight. As for looking about for dogs – why, you’ll have your work cut out to keep the car on the road.”

  “We must drive by turns,” I said stoutly. “It’s got to be done. And the one who isn’t driving must keep a look-out.”

  My brother-in-law swallowed desperately. Then—

  “Someone,” he said, “must stay here – in case the dog comes. I mean, cases have been known… Exactly. Very well. If we all go out, and he gets here to find us gone – I hardly like to say it, but our faithful, footsore friend will set off again.”

  “Oh, I can’t bear it,” said Daphne.

  “I know,” said Berry. “I know. Neither can I. And if I stay here in the drive—”

  “That’s Daphne’s job,” I said grimly. “Jill must go with Jonah, and you with me.”

  “Normally, yes,” said Berry. “Normally, yes. But here we must have the best sight. And my eyes—”

  “You can wear your glasses,” said Jill.

  “That’s just what I can’t do,” said Berry. “I left them behind.”

  “I didn’t,” said his wife. “They’re in my dressing-case.”

  Looking ready to burst—

  “Splendid,” said Berry, shakily. With starting eyes he regarded the dial of his watch. “And now I think I’ll retire. I’m not tired really – I’ve only been on the job for nineteen hours. But as I’ve paid for the room – Oh, and who’s going to ring up Falcon?”

  “What for?” said Jill.

  “What for?” snarled Berry. “Why, to know if the Knave’s come back. I’m not going to get up at five and stagger about half-conscious, looking for a dog that’s sprawling about in his basket, sleeping it off.”

  “I wish I could believe it,” wailed Daphne. “I’d cheerfully get up at four, if—”

  “All right. You do it,” said Berry. “Ring up Falcon at four. If he says—”

  “You can’t do that,” said his wife. “They’ll all be asleep.”

  With an unearthly laugh, Berry lay back in his chair and drummed with his heels upon the floor. Then he leapt to his feet and looked round.

  “Understand this,” he said. “You can all please yourselves, but before I look for a needle in a bottle of hay I’ve got to be credibly informed that the needle is there. And that’s my last word. If anyone rouses me and, having roused me, is unable to assure me that the Knave was not at White Ladies ten minutes ago, I’ll commit an aggravated assault upon his person. I may do it any way. But without that information whoever does it is doomed.”

  With that, he stalked out of the hall just as Jonah came in.

  After a hasty discussion, it was arranged that I should ring up Falcon at half past six and that, failing the news we hoped for, I should arouse the others without delay. Then, without more ado, we went heavily to bed.

  For anxiety we had just cause. At large in the countryside, a stranger in a strange land, a swift Alsatian was in truth a needle in a bottle of hay. Between our home and Cock Feathers lay a very network of roads. And the Knave was unacquainted with traffic. And the roads on a handsome Sunday were sure to be crammed.

  It was eight o’clock of that lovely mid-summer morning before we were on the road.

  The order of our going was dreadful. I had not spoken with Falcon: more dead than alive, I had swayed for ten minutes by the switchboard, listening to the night porter wrangling with the unseen, only to learn that the telephone line to White Ladies was ‘out of order.’ For all we knew, therefore, the Knave had reappeared and was now asleep in his bed. This conception was distracting enough, but Berry’s insistence upon it can be better imagined than described… Between us we had but one map, and our efforts to learn its lessons and then to agree and remember our several casts not only proved explosive but wasted valuable time. Finally it was determined that Jonah and Jill should drive direct to White Ladies by the way by which we had come, whilst Berry and I scoured the district, which, had he set out across country, the Knave might fairly have reached. As for communication, Jonah was to ring up the Granbys at twelve o’clock. The Granbys lived at Dewdrop, perhaps forty miles from Cock Feathers: we knew them well. Over all, the hopelessness of the venture hung like a thundercloud. For all that, there was only one Knave. If action was futile, inaction was not to be borne. The reflection that, if he were doomed, we should, at least, have made what efforts we could, spurred even Berry up to the starting gate.

  It was shortly before ten o’clock that the incident occurred.

  Some thirty-five miles from Cock Feathers, Berry and I were moving in country we did not know, and proving a web of by-roads that sprawled between two highways. I was driving and watching the road itself, while Berry was up on his feet, looking over the quickset hedges and scanning the woods and meadows on either side.

  For the hundredth time—

  “The point is this,” said my brother-in-law. “If I knew that the Knave was in trouble and somebody told me where, I’d run five miles in my socks to help him out of his grief. He’s been a good dog to me, and I like his ways. But the game that we’re playing now would make a congenital idiot burst into tears. I mean, be honest. What sort of…”

  I heard the words die on his lips.

  As I glanced up—

  “My God, there he is,” screamed Berry, pointing a shaking hand. “Stop the car, Boy. Stop. He’s making for – KNAVE!”

  As Berry shouted, the horn of some car behind us demanded way. No human voice could compete with so deafening a blast: but, what was worse, because of the bend
ahead, whoever was driving continued to hold his horn-button down.

  Raving incoherence I could not hear, Berry flung out of the Rolls, tore to a gate we had passed, and hurled himself over into the meadows it kept.

  Then the oncoming car went by, like some hag-ridden squall, and I stood up in the Rolls to see Berry running like a madman towards a billowing wood. The Knave was not to be seen. Unable to hear Berry’s voice, because of the horn, he had, no doubt, left the meadows and entered the wood.

  For a moment I wondered whether to follow Berry or to drive on past the wood before leaving the car. Then my brother-in-law settled my doubts by frantically waving me forward and making encircling gestures which none could have failed to read.

  Trembling with excitement, I took the seat I had left. The incredible had happened. If Berry was right and it was the Knave he had seen, we had achieved such a feat as no patrol had ever achieved before. With seventy miles of blind country in which to fail, we had actually intercepted…

  As I set a foot on the clutch, I heard a car coming behind, and since I was at rest, I waited, to let it go by.

  It did so – with squealing brakes.

  As it stopped, twenty paces ahead, the police on its running-boards left it, to dash to my side.

  The sergeant blared in my ear.

  “Follow that car jus’ gone by – with the ’ighpitched ’orn.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Name o’ the Law,” snapped the sergeant, and swung himself on to the step.

  Mechanically I let in the clutch…

  As the Rolls moved forward, I sought to protest again.

  “Why can’t you—”

  “Sorry, sir,” said the sergeant. “Step on it, please.” He jerked his head at the car from which he had come. “Can’t do it with that: it’s only a fifteen-’orse.”

  There was nothing to be done. Knave or no Knave, the police had to be obeyed. Reflecting rather dismally that the sooner I caught the car, the sooner I should be released, I let the Rolls go…

  As we flashed round the bend ahead—

  “What’s he done?” said I.

  “Who knows?” said the sergeant, darkly. “As like as not, they’re jool-thieves. A packet o’ jools was taken an hour ago. Anyway it’s a stolen car.”

  Neither the police nor I will ever forget that drive. The narrow, tortuous ways were forbidding high speed: crossroads gaped upon us with their mouths: blind corners frowned and threatened, and scores of road signs warned us – to no avail. Flirting with sudden death, we flouted the lot. Hereabouts, as luck would have it, the traffic was slight: such as there was we outraged, cutting in, thrusting and squeezing, as a man that elbows his way. That shouts and yells should pursue us was natural enough. Our withers were unwrung. ‘In the name of the Law’…

  Clinging to the nearside door, a sad-faced constable presently opened his mouth.

  “There’s their ’orn,” he said grimly.

  The man was right.

  As we flashed up a rise, I heard the ear-splitting note, and as we swooped over the crest, I saw the car we were chasing turn off to the left.

  The two police-whistles rang out…

  I had to slow for the corner, but though, by the time we were round, the other was not to be seen, I knew very well she was less than a furlong away. So did the police.

  “We’ll have ’em yet,” said the sergeant. “’Ow many was there, Dane?”

  “I only see one,” said Dane. “But there may ’ave been others there as was bendin’ down.”

  “What d’you want me to do?” said I.

  “Pass him, sir, an’ then block him. We’ll do the rest.”

  My question was premature. Though the Rolls was the swifter car, there were breakers ahead.

  I rounded a bend at sixty, to see the car we wanted with another on either side. For an instant the three seemed coherent: then the car on the right left the road and took to the ditch, while its ruthless oppressor went on to make good his escape.

  “There you are,” said the sergeant. “Wot did I say? No one don’t drive like that who hasn’t got more in his sleeve than a stolen car. I’ll lay they’ve got the stuff on them. Put her along, sir, please. If he’s on the road much longer, there’ll be bloody murder done.”

  I did my best to obey, but the traffic was heavier now, and though I continued to take every sort of risk, I could hardly compel a third party to take such a course as might very well break his neck. Then, again, the sins of the thief were visited on my head, and drivers whom he had jostled declined to be jostled again. Wherever the road was open we went up, hand over fist, but the checks were our undoing and stole our winnings away. Do what I would, the fellow was keeping his distance: when another five minutes had passed, he was still a furlong ahead.

  From the dance he led us, I judge that he knew the roads, for, while he turned and doubled like any hare, he never once led us into a village street. As for me, I was utterly lost. I knew neither where I was nor the way I had come, for the pace at which we were moving demanded a concentration which left me aware of nothing but a winding black and brown ribbon, all edged with green.

  All of a sudden the luck of the road became ours. The traffic grew sensibly lighter, and gaps which the thief had to force seemed to open for us. And a hill rose up to help us – we took it with the rush of a lift. …As the Rolls flew over the crest, I saw the stolen car not seventy paces ahead.

  “Got ’im now,” breathed the sergeant.

  I began to think how I should pass…

  We were fifty paces behind when I sighted the furniture-van. This was going our way and was travelling fast. Its breadth of beam was hideous. The mammoth was using three-fourths of the narrow road. Had this been one foot less wide, neither the thief nor I could have made our way past: as it was, if the van gave way, a possible passage would open – a gauntlet for fools to run.

  “’E’s done,” said the sergeant. “’E’s blocked. If ’e tries to go by at that pace—”

  “He can do it,” said I. “We’ll both be glad to be through, but it can be done.”

  “Gawd ’elp,” said Dane, and tightened his grip on the door.

  In the course of the chase we had taken far graver risks; but, while we had taken the others before there was time to think, this risk could be weighed and measured, the chances of success could be pondered and the consequences of failure not so much pictured as perceived. In a word, to be honest, the risk was less grave than it seemed, for the swaying bulk of the van diminished the width of the road.

  An instant later the ear-splitting horn rang out…

  The van never slackened its speed but it lurched to its left, thereby for the first time disclosing what lay ahead. A fork in the road was coming: in another ten seconds the road was to split into two. And the right-hand prong of the fork – the only one I could see – was no more than a lane.

  As the stolen car squeezed by, I sounded my horn: but all the answer I got was an outstretched hand.

  As I clapped on my brakes, the van swung across my bows…

  And then we were all in the lane – stolen car, van and Rolls…but the car was in front of the van, while the Rolls was behind.

  That the race was as good as over was painfully clear. The lane accepted the van with perhaps six inches to spare. At certain points a bicycle might have gone by: but nothing larger.

  The next seven minutes were crowded.

  I, of course, could do nothing but follow the van, whose pace had now fallen to ten or twelve miles an hour; Dane tried, without success, to make his way past its bulk to the driver’s cab; and the sergeant described heavy traffic “wot didn’t ought to be on the roads at all” with a compelling savagery of metaphor which did my heart good. As for the van itself, the banks of the lane being high and the gradient steep, the stench of oil and the scream of labouring metal will stay with me till I die.

  Then at last the nightmare was over, the van was a thing of the past and we were upon a fair
road, smooth and straight and empty – a perfect place for the capture which we had hoped to make.

  There was a pregnant silence. Then—

  “’Eart breakin’,” said the sergeant. “That’s wot it is.”

  “Well, that’s that,” said I, and wiped the sweat from my face. “Have you any idea where we are?”

  “No idea,” said the sergeant shortly.

  “Well, I must get back,” said I. “I left my brother-in-law where you picked me up. D’you know where that was at all?”

  “Well, it was this side of Basing, but…”

  “It mayn’t be now,” said Dane, miserably.

  “I must get back,” I said firmly. “And I’d better take you along. Between us we ought to be able to find the way.”

  With that, I increased my speed, proposing to turn the car round at the first side-road. A moment later I saw the mouth of a road sixty paces away…

  It was as I came abreast of the mouth that the sergeant let out a yell.

  “Look there, sir,” he raved. “Look at that.”

  Twenty paces from the mouth of the road the car which we had been chasing was leaning against a paling with two of its wheels in the ditch.

  What had happened was clear as day. For once the thief had taken a corner too fast.

  Dane was the first to get there. From the jerk of his head I knew that our quarry was gone. The sergeant fell upon two cyclists who were standing, saucer-eyed, in the midst of the way.

  “What d’yer know?” he barked. “Did yer see the smash?”

  I could not hear the answer, but after one or two passes had been exchanged I saw the cyclists point to a pleasant beechwood which rose, as a cliff from deep water, out of the blowing meadows that lapped the road.

  A moment later the police had climbed the fence and were lumbering over the grass.

  I like to think that they did not expect me to wait. Be that as it may, I had turned the Rolls round and was moving before they had reached the trees…