After, perhaps, thirty seconds I heard them begin to back…
Then I saw the glow of a tail-light – and made my report.
Two men were already afoot. Not till both cars had stopped did the others alight. Six in all I counted, and sent my news.
Things of some sort were taken out of the cars, but the lights were out now and I could not see what they were. The engines, of course, had been stopped, and since no words were spoken, the dark figures moving in darkness were worse than sinister. I saw them cluster below me, just clear of the leading car.
And then one opened his mouth – and I nearly fell out of my tree…
It was not ‘Wilson’ who spoke, but another, whose voice I knew.
As in a dream, I heard him issue some orders and tell off some man, called Jennet, to stay with the cars. His tone was as bitter as ever, his manner of speaking as short, and when he had done and was gone, I was not at all surprised when Jennet described him in terms which I dare not set down.
It was the diviner, indeed.
Bad masters make bad servants, and though, of course, I dared not lay hands on the cars, I was able to beat a retreat without any fuss, for Jennet, instead of patrolling, as he had been ordered to do, took his seat on one of the steps and lighted a cigarette.
I entered the meadows and followed the paling along. After perhaps forty paces, the Knave loomed out of the shadows, to put his paws on my chest.
“No luck?” breathed Perdita Boyte.
“Not at the moment,” said I, and told her my news.
“Oh, my dear,” twittered Perdita, “what does it mean?”
“I’m damned if I know,” said I. “Can’t you work it out?”
“I can make it rather harder by telling you this. D’you remember I asked you a question this afternoon? Why does this spot attract you? We were sitting by the head of the well… You gave me – so pretty an answer that I forgot altogether to give you mine.” I found a small hand and held it close to my heart. “You see, Boy, it’s not only you. That spot attracts us all. Ever since he told you to dig there – after all I’m only a guest, but it’s never been out of my mind.”
“Well, why’s that?” said I, feebly.
The small hand caught hold of my coat.
“Call me a fool, if you like, but I think it’s because that man’s willed us…been willing us ever since Monday to think of that well. That he’s got one strange power we know. Well, I think he’s got another. And I think he’s been using that to keep our minds on that well.”
“But why should he do so, my beauty?”
The hand slipped away and up to the troubled temples which I could hardly see.
“I can’t imagine,” wailed Perdita. “And there you are. I told you I’d make it worse. But now that he’s back here – in charge…”
“Let’s go and put it to Berry. I must get in touch with Jonah about those cars.”
Jonah and Berry were sitting on a log in the orchard, conversing in even tones.
“Come and sit down,” said the former. “Our friends are deeply engaged. The cellar was their objective, as ‘Wilson’ said. They seem to be taking the floor up: and as flags are not like linoleum, we’ve plenty of time. Then again the work would go faster if they weren’t so painfully anxious to make no noise.”
“Did you recognize their leader?” said I.
“‘Wilson’ was the first of the string.”
“He’s not in command.”
“Who then?”
“Our friend, the dowser,” said I. “There’s no mistaking his voice.”
“Go on,” said Berry, incredulously.
“I am ready,” said Jonah, quietly, “to believe anything. Understanding’s another matter. I frankly admit I’m a long way out of my depth. But very soon now we shall know. They may as well get the stuff out – whatever it is.”
“Perdita says—”
“Stop,” hissed Berry. “Stop. I’ve got an idea. When he showed us rods, that wallah…and one of them moved. In the library, Boy, that morning. He asked what was underneath, and you said the cellars were dry.”
“Of course,” I heard myself saying. “Of course…of course.”
I remembered perfectly – now. But I had forgotten the matter, as though it had never been.
Jonah was speaking.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
Berry told him, from first to last.
“All the same,” he concluded, “it only explains his presence – the dowser’s, I mean. We want to know what he’s after. And he’s not come here to uncover some secret spring.”
“What does Perdita think?” said Jonah.
Perdita tried in vain to steady her voice.
“It all f-fits in,” she stammered. “He made them forget that bit in the library. And he tried to make them forget by keeping their minds on the well – all our minds, in case they’d told us…”
“I’ve no doubt you’re right,” said Jonah. “This dowser’s no ordinary man.”
“What on earth d’you mean?” said Berry.
“This,” said Jonah. “Water is not all that a really good dowser can find. He can detect the presence of minerals – under the earth. Gold and silver, for instance…” I found myself trembling with excitement. “When you saw his rod move that morning, you thought there was water below: but the dowser knew better: he knew there was precious metal down in the cellars beneath…he came Thursday night, to make sure – to find the exact place and the depth…and tonight he’s come to take his findings away.”
An hour and a half crept by.
Perdita, Berry and I sat upon the log in the orchard, conversing by fits and starts but always with bated breath, while the Knave stood beside us like a statue, conscious of the presence of evil which for some strange reason he was not allowed to declare.
About his business, Jonah moved to and fro, visiting the servants he had posted, reporting progress to us or listening himself to the sounds which rose from the cellar’s depths.
Jennet had been ‘disposed of’ and was sitting, gagged and bound, in one of the cars. These had not been disabled – my cousin had changed his plan.
An hour and a half.
Time seemed to be standing still: excitement begot an impatience which sent us half out of our minds: desire rebelled against reason again and again.
“Lifting flagstones,” moaned Berry. “They don’t know how to work. I’d have moved a mountain by now. And I know I’d sell my soul to be doing the labour myself.”
Perdita put it in a nutshell.
“It’s like when you’ve been given a present – and somebody else unpacks it: and you have to watch them fumbling, undoing the string.”
“I know,” said Jonah, “I know. But when six desperate men play into your hands, it’s very much better to let them. The great idea is to avoid unpleasantness.”
“I hardly think,” said Berry, “that ‘the great idea’ will mature. I mean, I can’t help feeling that on their way back to Town, no one of the six will really be at his best.”
With his words came the flash of a torch.
“They’re off,” said Jonah. “Still as death, if you please, until I come back.”
I went down on one knee. With my arm about the Knave’s shoulders, I held his head to my chest. After, perhaps, two minutes I felt his ears twitch…
And then I heard the men passing – two men, breathing hard as they went, as men who are anxious to hasten, while carrying weight.
Another two minutes went by.
And then, well out in the meadows, a light leaped up.
I saw figures moving against it, and one was standing still with his hands in the air…
“Oh, I’m sorry for them,” said Perdita, and burst into tears.
I gave the Knave to Berry and picked her up in my arms.
“Rough justice,” I whispered. “Not fit for a maiden’s eyes. When Jonah comes back, I’m going to take you to bed.”
“Couldn’t you…give t
hem…just something? I mean…poor men.”
For the first time for seven days my brain seemed to leap to life.
“If they’ve found what I think they have, I’ll give them five hundred pounds.”
“Oh, you darling,” breathed Perdita. A warm arm slid round my neck. “What – what do you think they’ve found?”
“Darlings to you.” I kissed her. “The Abbey plate.”
And that is very nearly the end of my tale.
A glance at the first-fruits showed that my conjecture was good: the plate had been buried, and lest it should be disinterred, the nuns had spread the report that it had been taken to France.
I took Perdita back to the house and wrote out a cheque. Then I returned to the orchard, where Berry was sitting in darkness, addressing the Knave.
“From your point of view, old fellow, it’s been an utter wash-out from first to last. No hue, no cry, no dust-up, no biters bit. And what have we got to show for it? A lot of rotten utensils which we shall never use. Look at that alms-dish, for instance. No self-respecting dog would drink out of that. What if it is solid gold? You’d very much rather it was enamelled steel…
“What’s happened?” I said.
“History,” said Berry, “has just repeated itself. Two more left the cellar, laden, and were relieved of their booty in the midst of yon dewy meads. There’s only the dowser left now. When the others fail to return, I suppose he’ll emerge.”
“Who’s in charge of the cars?”
“Fitch and Carson,” said Berry. “They’re going to deport the wicked as soon as Satan arrives. To Break Heart Heath, I believe – an appropriate spot. Jonah will follow and bring them home in the Rolls. He’s really a perfect producer… I wish we could show a light. There’s a monstrance here with a ruby as big as an eye. It can’t be real, can it?”
“I’ll be back in five minutes,” said I, and ran for the cars…
‘Chief Inspector Wilson’ stared at the cheque.
Pay Mr Jennet or Order
Five hundred pounds.
“Is this a have?” he demanded.
“No,” said I, “it’s a present – from a very charming lady. You’ve done us extremely well, and she didn’t like the idea of your going empty away.” I showed it to each of the others: then I returned to ‘Wilson,’ folded it up and slipped it into his pocket and out of sight. “There are five of you here,” I said, “and, as you saw, it’s made out for five hundred pounds. In a way, the inference is obvious. On the other hand, there’s your leader – he’ll soon be here. I haven’t spoken to him, and I’ll leave it to you to decide how much he should have.”
The five replied as one man. So far as I heard, each put it a different way, but each spoke straight from the heart – with a steady, blasphemous vigour that did me good. I have no wish to seem harsh, but we had done the dowser no ill, while he had abused his position with all his might.
I did not watch his translation…
At three o’clock that morning we stood in the dining-room. Windows and doors were fast, and the lights were full on. The table was crowded – crammed with the Abbey plate. Chalices, platters and flagons – sacred vessels and caskets for which I can find no name…there was not one of silver, but all were of gold.
But the beauty was not all to the board.
On my right stood Daphne, her glorious hair unbound, turning her jade-green dressing-gown into some goddess’ robe: Jill stood between Berry and Jonah on the opposite side of the oak – a King’s daughter in blue and silver, with her pretty hands in her pockets, appraising her father’s hoard. On my right stood Perdita Boyte, swathed to the throat in old rose, a nymph awaiting her call – to meet the dayspring upon some mountain lawn. Curious in spite of himself, the Knave moved about the table, nosing the fusty collection we seemed so much to revere.
“All these years,” murmured Daphne, “and nobody knew.”
“What ever,” said Berry, “what ever will Christie’s say?”
“You’re not going to sell it?” cried Jill.
“Yes, we are, sweetheart,” said Jonah: “in self-defence.”
Perdita breathed in my ear.
“Did they seem comforted, Boy?”
“Stopped crying at once,” I whispered. “If their hands had been free, they’d have put their arms round my neck.”
“Oh, I didn’t” – indignantly.
I tucked her arm under mine.
“I know,” said I. “Neither did I.”
5
How Perdita Bought a Staircase,
and Berry Put on Raiment that was Not His
“When I was a child,” said Berry, “I was invariably sick after eating boiled mutton.”
“Thank you very much,” said Daphne. “And if you have any other similar reminiscences, perhaps you’ll postpone them until we have finished lunch.”
“If I must, I must,” said her husband. “Only don’t forget to ask me. I always feel that the pretty ways of childhood are too much ignored. Which reminds me. Tomorrow I must revisit scenes which I dignified in swaddling clothes. I can’t say I remember the occasion, but I have always understood that it was at Thistledown that, my cot having disappeared, I was put to sleep in Queen Elizabeth’s bed. And they all came up after dinner to see the child a foot long in a gold and crimson four-poster some ten feet square.”
“How sweet,” said Perdita Boyte.
“More,” said Berry. “It was prophetic. For such as had eyes to see, my great predecessor’s stomacher – the pearl one – had already fallen upon my t-tender trunk. I confess I can’t swear in Latin, but the imperious personality is there. I sometimes wish it wasn’t, you know. Repression is bad for the health. Yet what can I do? If I were to let it appear, those I love would be fighting to wash my feet.”
With that, he raised his tankard and Daphne discharged a roll.
To duck in the act of drinking can always be done – at a price…
As Berry recovered his breath—
“We were talking of Thistledown,” said I, swiftly.
“Couldn’t we all go?” said Jill. “And take our lunch?”
“What could be better?” said Berry, wiping his face. “The park was always pleasant, and I rather imagine we shan’t get another chance.”
“Are you going to sell?” said Daphne.
“I suppose so. But I think I should see it once more before I sign it away.” He turned to Perdita. “One hundred and fifty acres…beautiful acres of England…and I’m offered two thousand pounds. But what can I do? When everything’s paid, it brings in about four and six. Four shillings and sixpence a year. Well, two thousand pounds in the hand is better than that. But I’ve got to say ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ within forty-eight hours.”
“Why such haste?” said Daphne.
“I cannot imagine,” said Berry. “That’s why I’m going to take a look at the place.”
“And the house and all?” said Perdita.
“No house,” said Berry. “The house was burned to the ground twenty years ago. And never rebuilt. Still, the park’s the same. I’d like to have it myself.”
Perdita knitted her brows.
“But isn’t it yours? I mean, if you’re going to sell it…”
“I hold it as sole trustee for a boy at school. Poor little chap. But for the War, he’d be spending his holidays there – with the jolliest father and mother you ever saw.”
“The Thistledown Curse,” said Jonah, and left it there.
“Looks like it,” said Berry. “You can’t get away from that.” He turned to Perdita. “Never cross a gypsy, my dear – a genuine Roman, I mean. Old Sir John Raby did – about forty years back. Turned her out of the park, or something – I don’t quite know what it was. And the lady cursed him and his house – to his face, in front of his grooms.” He broke off and shrugged his shoulders. “From that day nothing went right. Wife, eldest son, and fortune – he lost them all. His second son, Colin, succeeded, he was the best in the world. He seeme
d to be pulling things round till the house was burnt. He was at the front at the time, and, because he’d too much to think of, he’d let the policy lapse. He was killed in 1918, and his wife gave birth to the boy and then followed him out. And now the boy’s at Harrow, and all he’s got in the world is a short two hundred a year and a hundred and fifty acres which nobody wants – except for this Mr Puncheon: and he can’t want them much, if he’s only willing to go to two thousand pounds.”
“Poor child,” said Perdita quickly. “And when he leaves school – what then?”
“I can’t imagine,” said Berry. “I sold out to put him at Harrow. I think I was right. After all, he’s the eighth Baronet. But life can be very hard for a titled orphan who’s less than two hundred a year.”
“It might be worse,” said Jill. “He mightn’t have you for trustee.”
“I don’t actually rob him,” said Berry, “if that’s what you mean.”
“No,” said Daphne, “she doesn’t. She means that you do your duty, but that your interpretation of ‘duty’—”
“This discussion,” said Berry, hastily, “will now cease. Where were we? Oh, I know – Thistledown. Well, shall we all lunch there tomorrow? It’s sixty odd miles away, but a pretty run.”
“By Salisbury,” said Daphne. “Splendid. I want some silk for a cushion, and I think I can get it there.” She turned to Jill. “We must take a piece of that cretonne, to match it with. Will you tell Dacre to put a length in the car?”
“Is that my favourite?” said Berry. “The one that looks as if somebody’s trodden in something and then walked all over the place?”
As was only to be expected, the simile provoked great indignation.
“It’s really shameful,” said Daphne. “You never open your mouth without saying some filthy thing.”
“That statement,” said her husband, “savours of exaggeration – a failing which, as I have frequently indicated, tends to subvert the dignity of speech. Never mind. In this case I’m not to blame. You present to me something bestial, and I describe it as such.”
“But it isn’t bestial,” shrieked Jill. “It’s one of the smartest designs that—”
And Berry Came Too Page 12