“Oh, come,” said Perdita, smiling. “Half the England I’ve seen is still like that. And your byroads always lead to the scene of some Nursery Rhyme.”
My brother-in-law bowed.
“Fine ladies’ luck,” he said simply. “They shall have music wherever they go.”
“Perdita,” said Jill, “look there.”
We followed her gaze.
At the foot of the terrace steps the Knave was standing a-tiptoe, looking at us. His eyes were alight with mischief: his ears were pricked: in his mouth was a little silk slipper, taken from Perdita’s room.
To every dog the way of his heart. Friendly and gentle to all, the Alsatian reserved this honour for those he loved.
“You see,” breathed Jill, “to take away a slipper of yours is his idea of a compliment. He’s on his way to the garden, to bury it there. But he thinks you might be inconvenienced, so he’s come round this way to show you what he’s about. If you were to say ‘All right,’ he’d be gone in a flash: but if you say ‘Oh, Knave,’ he’ll bring it to you.”
“Isn’t it beautiful?” said Berry. “In fact there’s only one snag – if you shouldn’t happen to see him, he, er, hopes for the best. I’d a new pair of evening shoes… They cost me seven pounds ten, and I’d only worn them once… I still have one: I might lose a leg or something – you never know.”
“You don’t know that he took it,” said Jill.
“If you mean that I didn’t see him, I’ve been at some pains to point out that that’s perfectly true. I also admit that on being desired to find it, he appeared incapable of complying with the request.” He covered his eyes. “Snowing like hell, it was, and there we were with two gardeners and half the house, crawling about all under the rhododendrons and rooting about like so many hungry hogs… And all that dog did was to wait till we began scratching and then start in. Hole after hole he dug: and we stood round and watched him: and when he’d finished, the gardeners would fill it in. Talk about being made fools of… Look out. He’s tired of waiting.”
“Oh, Knave,” said Perdita, quickly.
At once the Alsatian stopped: then his fine head came round, as though in surprise.
“Oh, Knave.”
The silky ears fell back and the great tail began to sway. Then very slowly the Knave ascended the steps and, moving to Perdita’s side, laid in her lap a trophy which I should have liked myself.
As the applause died down—
“It’s asking for trouble,” said Berry. “You can call it ‘his pretty way’ or dress it up as you please. In fact it’s larceny. He stole and took and carried that slipper away, and if Jill hadn’t happened to see him, it would have shared – with one of the best-looking shoes I ever put on – some sodden mausoleum to which he alone has the key.”
“Our dog is a good dog,” purred Daphne, caressing the velvety muzzle the Knave had laid on her knee.
“That’s right,” said her husband. “Play the false prophet. Slobber over iniquity.”
“I’m not,” indignantly. “How dare you say such a thing? Just because once you couldn’t find one of your shoes—”
“Oh, give me strength,” said Berry.
“–you want to jump on his very humble endeavour to show goodwill. It’s very clumsy, of course: but when he was only a scrap, he thought of it all himself, and—”
“Oh, I can’t bear it,” said Berry. “Come here, old fellow.” The Knave was at his side in a flash. “You know that I wouldn’t hurt you for anything in the world.”
The Knave gave a whimper of pleasure and licked his face.
“And now you have done it,” said Jonah. “He knows you’ve withdrawn the protest he heard you make.”
My brother-in-law swallowed.
“After all,” he said, “so long as he always brings the footwear to us…”
I turned to see the butler by Daphne’s side.
“Dinner is served, madam.”
Twenty shining hours had gone by, and Berry’s forebodings had melted as mists before the smile of the sun.
We had proved the pleasant borders of The Long Lane: we had left the Rolls and had strolled on the dead-straight switchback, as others had strolled upon it for nearly two thousand years: finally we had entered a meadow, to break our fast in the shade of a monster oak. The spot was peaceful and ministered to the mind. We had to ourselves a fold of the countryside, the natural beauty of which had been adorned by years of husbandry. Our meadow sloped to the lane, where a five-barred gate of grey oak maintained its privacy: before us, a poppied cornfield was kept by the finest hedgerows I ever saw; and the ridge behind us was clothed with a stretch of woodland, rich and clean and sturdy, to temper the wind to the georgic that lay below.
The afternoon was lazy and very still: stretched on the turf, we fleeted it carelessly, murmuring conversation, or musing, or fast asleep: body and soul relaxed: we were out of the world.
Berry slumbered faithfully: flat on my back, I considered the ceiling of oak leaves directly above – and found it a hanging garden, fit for the use of dreams: their voices subdued, Perdita and Jill were talking steadily…
I cannot tell what it was that made me, all of a sudden, remember the Knave. We had all forgotten the dog. He had, no doubt, wandered away, and out of sight, out of mind. It must have been half an hour since I had seen him nosing the meadow for savoury scents.
With a shock I sat up – to see him standing before me, with his eyes alight with mischief and a good-looking shoe in his mouth.
If my exclamation was natural, it put an end to our peace. Perdita and Jill cried out and Berry started out of his slumber as though he had been suddenly stung.
“What on earth’s the matter?” he demanded.
“This,” said I, and took a man’s left shoe from the jaws of the Knave. He suffered me gently, if reluctantly.
Yet heavy with sleep, my brother-in-law stared upon his footwear and then upon mine. Then he looked dazedly about him.
“Where’s Jonah?” he said.
The position was explained to him excitedly.
“It belongs to some stranger,” I concluded. “How or where he obtained it, I can’t conceive. But—”
“What did I say?” said Berry, whose senses had now returned. “Only last night I said you were playing with fire.”
“Well, what if you did?” said I. “I never taught him to do the blasted trick.”
“You encouraged him,” said Berry. “You led that dumb animal to think—”
“And what about you?” cried Jill. “You said he oughtn’t to do it and then you withdrew what you said. Jonah said at the time—”
“We’re dealing with a dog,” said Berry. “Not a recording angel with outsize ears. I suppose you’ll say in a minute I set him on.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” said I, “but the fact remains he’s never done this before. The last thing you said was this – ‘So long as he always brings the footwear to us.’ Well, he’s brought it to us, hasn’t he? Of course, it may be a coincidence, but—”
“Of course if you talk like that,” said Berry, “you’ll be afflicted. Some judgment will come upon you… Here am I, the only one of us all who has ever protested against a course the folly of which would put a swine off its food, and you turn round and say I’m responsible.” He took a deep breath. “You know, that’s an obscene libel.”
“It’s no good bluffing,” said Jill. “You know the Knave understands every word that we say. And last night you gave him leave to do what he’s done.”
“Leave me out for a moment and answer me this. Whenever that dog’s done his trick, have you or have you not applauded him?”
“Yes,” said Jill, “we have. But—”
“Then,” said Berry, “why don’t you applaud him now? I think he’s done rather well to find a shoe like this in the countryside.”
There was an uneasy silence. After a little, I got to my feet and looked about me.
“Exactly,” said Berry, gr
imly. “There isn’t a private house for at least four miles, and who leaves a shoe like that in the woods or fields? You can see it’s practically new: and it’s just as good as I’ve ever had made for me.”
“I can’t believe,” said Jill, “he’d go into a private house.”
“More,” said I. “Who can he like about here? He’d never take the shoe of someone he didn’t like.”
“Oh, that’s fantastic,” said Berry. “There’s nobody here he knows. But the shoe must have come from somewhere where shoes are kept. And shoes like that are kept in a private house.”
“What about a tent?” said Perdita.
“Well done,” said everyone.
We had no doubt that her reading of the riddle was good. Camping out in fine weather was all the rage. Some tent, no doubt, had been pitched somewhere near at hand, and the Knave had come upon it, while its owners were taking the air.
“The Knave shall guide us,” said Berry, and got to his feet. “Give him the shoe again and tell him to take it back. You’ll have to go and see that he does it, but—”
“You do it,” said I, and put the shoe into his hand…
Berry was painfully explicit, but the Knave has fixed ideas upon the uses of gifts. For the next five minutes he cantered about the meadow, with Berry, panting invective, in close pursuit, while Perdita, Jill and I abandoned ourselves to a laughter which left us weak. At last the performers lay down – some six feet apart. After another five minutes, Jill and I, between us, recovered the shoe. Then we began, all five, to look for the tent…
The hour that followed, did much to reduce our weight, for the heat of the day was not over and the duty we tried to do was that of a mounted patrol. The country, of course, was against us. As I have hinted, the hedgerows were most efficient, while the woods, as a bulwark, left nothing to be desired. I cannot say that we used the Knave as a guide, but his zeal to lead the way would have disconcerted a mind that was made of brass. Hideously mistrustful of his motives, again and again we proved his shocking excursions, fighting our way to join him in some inaccessible place, for the dog could pass where we could not – except at the price of a disorder which sent us half out of our minds. And always his leadership failed us – as we had known it would. Again and again we deposed him from the role which he had assumed and helped one another back to take up a line of our own, but the Knave would be back before us, waiting to make some point which we dared not ignore.
“Yes, I see him,” said Berry, licking the blood from his wrist. “But some other fool can buy it. That dog’s a wicked liar.”
“You can’t be sure,” said Jill, tremulously. “There might be a tent behind there.”
Berry regarded the bullfinch with starting eyes.
“There might,” he said. “There might be a circus behind it for all I know. But I’m going to assume there isn’t. And I’ll tell you another thing. If I can walk so far, I’m going back to the car. It’s been a delicious ramble, but I’ve had enough of playing at Paradise Lost.” He shambled up to a chestnut and set his back to its trunk. “If you want my private opinion, the dog’s possessed. Some wandering evil spirit was jealous of our content, so he entered into the Knave and possessed him to steal that shoe: he knew we should try to restore it – anyone would: and for more than an hour he’s done nothing but twist our tails. Well, mine’s come off now…” For the fiftieth time he wiped the sweat from his throat. “We’re not meant to find this camp. We never were meant to find it. We were meant to exchange an existence which was almost too good to be true for one which could be relied on not only to ravage the body, but to distort the soul.” He broke off and looked about him. “Where’s he now? I don’t want any more of his conjuring tricks.”
“There he is,” said Perdita, “digging a hole.”
“To bury his spoil in,” – grimly. “Well, I’m not sure he isn’t right.”
“We can’t do that,” said I, regarding the shoe. “We’d better take it to a police station.”
“Not if I know it,” said Berry. “Whoever that shoe belongs to is going to go raving mad. I know what I’m saying – I’ve had some. To steal one shoe suggests malice… I’ve had enough trouble today and I’m not going out of my way to buy any more. After all, we’ve tried to return it: and if people like to be careless and leave their belongings about—”
“But we can’t leave it here,” said Jill.
“We are going to leave it,” said Berry, “beneath this tree. I’m not going to have any truck with stolen goods. And that shoe may well have been stolen before the Knave put in his oar. We’ve found no tent, have we? But we may have missed a tramp who didn’t want to be seen – because he had with him the goods he had stolen the day before.”
The suggestion was more than enough.
I hurriedly laid the shoe at the foot of the trunk, and we made our way back across country as well as we could.
Twenty minutes later we clambered into the Rolls…
We had covered perhaps half a mile when we floated over a hillock to see a man’s figure ahead. His back was towards us and he was moving slowly and going dead lame.
“He’s hurt himself,” said I. “We must give him a lift.”
Perdita caught at my arm.
“Wouldn’t he walk like that if he’d cast a shoe?”
There was an electric silence, and, without thinking what I did, I set a foot on the brake.
“My God, she’s right,” cried Berry. “I can see the grey of his sock.”
“We must go and get it,” breathed Jill. “We must—”
“Not so fast,” said Berry. “We’ve got to restore it, of course: but this is a case for finesse. You can lay he’s ripe for murder, and somehow or other we’ve got to keep out of the wet. We shall have to bluff him somehow. He’s probably feeble-minded – going out for a stroll and losing one of his shoes.”
Here the stranger glanced over his shoulder and, seeing the Rolls approaching, immediately turned towards us and put up a stick.
“Well, you’ve got to do it,” said I. “My brain’s a blank.”
“That’s all right,” said Berry. “First we smooth him down and then we say we think, if he’s very good, we—”
“Don’t keep saying ‘we’,” said Jill. “I’m not going to open my mouth.”
As we drew near to our victim I saw he was a fine-looking man, some sixty years old. His gaze was bent upon the ground, but though he leaned on his stick and lifted his foot, the dignity of his demeanour was unmistakable.
“Slow as you dare,” said Berry. “What about this? We saw some children playing a little way back. They were playing ‘Hunt the slipper’: and now that we come to think…”
Perdita began to shake with laughter.
“He doesn’t look,” said I, “as if he’d eat out of your hand.”
“That’s because he’s ruffled,” said Berry. “Once we’ve smoothed him down…”
And then and there the stranger raised a magnificent head.
For a moment there was dead silence.
Then—
“Gongs of Gehenna,” breathed Berry. “It’s Peppery Joe.”
As I brought the Rolls to rest, Mr Justice Scarlet lifted his hat.
“May I ask you to give me a lift for one or two miles? A car should be waiting for me upon the main road.”
“Er, of course,” mouthed Berry, rising. “We hope – I mean, I fear you must have met with an accident.”
The Judge glanced down at his foot.
“If,” he said, “to be the victim of a pleasantry commonly supposed to be the prerogative of apes is to meet with an accident, then your surmise is correct.”
“How – how very shocking,” said Berry. With bulging eyes, he descended into the road. “Did they, er – I mean, I do trust they didn’t use violence.”
“Who?” said the Judge, frowning.
“Why, the apes,” said Berry. “I mean the per-perpetrators – the ones who did it on you.”
&
nbsp; “Did it on me?”
“Victimized you,” said Berry. “That’s the word – victimized.”
The Judge shook his head.
“The facts,” he said, “are simple. I know this country well and was taking a ten-mile walk – for the good of my health. By the time I had covered five miles, my shoes, which were fairly new, had begun to trouble my feet. After another two miles, I sat myself down in a meadow and took them off, proposing, when my feet were relieved, to finish in comfort a walk I had much enjoyed. Whilst I was waiting, I slept. When I awoke, one of my shoes had been taken, the other left.”
“Taken?” said Berry. “What a – what a most extraordinary thing.”
“The shoe,” said the Judge, “was gone. Now to take one shoe is not the way of a thief – nor, I should have supposed, the way of a decent man.” His grey eyes glowed in his head and he smote with his stick upon the ground. “Some mind diseased – some distorted sense of humour decided otherwise.”
“Oh, no,” said Berry. “Not that. I mean, are you sure?”
“Sure?” snapped the Judge. “Who can be sure of what happens when he is asleep? But I’m not a fool, sir. I don’t believe in witchcraft and I never yet heard of a shoe that walked by itself.”
“Out of the question,” said Berry, and wiped the sweat from his face.
“Very well, then. My shoe was taken… This evening some ‘bright young thing’ will relate to his grinning peers the enterprise with which he discomfited a stranger who lay asleep.”
With that, he entered the Rolls and, bowing politely to Jill, took his seat by her side. As he did so, the Knave rose up, laid his head on the Judge’s knee and gazed with apparent devotion into his victim’s face. As the latter made to caress him, the dog put his paws on his shoulders and licked his chin.
“Down, Knave, down,” said Jill quickly.
“It’s quite all right,” said the Judge. “I expect he knows that I’ve a weakness for dogs.”
I saw Berry moisten his lips.
And Berry Came Too Page 8