And now it was a question whether we should be able to go. Also, if we went, whether we should be able to get back.
The dispute waxed. Daphne and Jill insisted that go we must, could, and should. I rather supported them. Berry and Jonah opposed us; the latter quietly, as is his wont, the former with a simple stream of provoking irony. At length:
“Very well, ghouls,” said Berry, “have your most wicked way. Doubtless the good monks of the Hospice will find my corpse. I wish the drinking-trough, which will be erected to my memory, to stand halfway up St James’s Street. How strange it will sound in future.”
“What’ll sound?” said Jill.
“The new Saint’s Day, dear – Berrymas.”
When order had been restored, Jonah suggested that we should adjourn the debate till the next morning, in case it stopped snowing during the night. As it was nearly one, the idea seemed a good one, and we went to bed.
The morning was bright and cloudless. The cold was intense, but the sun glorious, while the clear blue sky looked as if it had never heard of snow. In a word, the weather was now magnificent, and, but for the real evidence upon the countryside, no one would ever have believed such a cheery, good-natured fellow guilty of a raging blizzard. But the snow lay thick upon the ground, and it was freezing hard.
“We can get there all right,” said Jonah, “but I don’t see the car coming back at four o’clock in the morning. No, thanks, I’ll have marmalade.”
“There’s almost a full moon,” said I.
“I know,” said Berry, “but the banjo’s being painted.”
“We’d better stop at the inn at Steeple Abbas,” said Jonah.
“If we can get as far as Steeple, we can make Fallow,” said I. “Remember, I’m driving.”
“We are not likely to forget it, brother,” said Berry. “If you knew the difference between the petrol tank and the gearbox—”
“But I do. Petrol in one, tools in the other. However.”
“Jonah’s right,” said Daphne. “We’d better stop at Steeple.”
“Not I,” said I.
“Nor me,” said Jill. “Boy and I’ll come back to our dear Fallow and our nice big grate and our own beds.”
“Good little girl,” said I. Berry emptied his mouth and began to recite “Excelsior.”
At twenty minutes past three the next morning I drove out of the courtyard of ‘The Three Bulls’, Steeple Abbas. Alone, too, for it had begun to snow again, and although I was determined to sleep that night, or what remained of it, at Fallow, I would not take Jill with me for such an ugly run. As a matter of fact, I had started once with her in the car, but before we had got clear of the town, I had turned about and driven her back to the inn. The people had evidently half expected her back, for, as we stopped at the door, it was flung open and the landlord stood ready to welcome her in. The next moment I was once more on my way.
In spite of the weather, the car went well, and I had soon covered more than half the distance.
I was just about to emerge from a side road on to the main highway, when a dark mass right on the opposite corner against the hedgerow attracted my attention. The next second my headlights showed what it was, and I slowed down. A great limousine, if you please, standing at an angle of twenty degrees, its near front wheel obviously well up the bank, and the whole car sunk in a drift of snow some four or five feet deep. All its lights were out, and fresh snow was beginning to gather on the top against the luggage rail.
I stopped, took out one of my side oil lamps, and, getting out of the car, advanced to the edge of the drift, holding the light above my head. The limousine was evidently a derelict.
“You look just like a picture I’ve seen somewhere,” said a gentle voice.
“And you’ve got a voice just like a dream I’ve dreamed some time or other. Isn’t that strange? And now, who, what, where, why, and how are you? Are you the goddess in the car, or the woman in the case? And may I wish you a very happy New Year? I said it first.”
“Try the woman in the car.”
“One moment,” said I. “I know.”
“What?”
“I know who you are. Just fancy.”
“Who am I?”
“Why, you’re New Year’s Eve.”
A little laugh answered me.
“I know I’ve dreamed that laugh,” said I. “However, where were we? Oh, I know. And your father, Christmas, has gone for help. If I know anything, he won’t be back again for ages. Seriously, how did what happen?”
“Chauffeur took the turn rather late, and next moment we were up the bank and in this wretched drift. It wasn’t altogether the man’s fault. One of our headlights wouldn’t work, and you couldn’t see the drift till we were in it.”
“He might have known better than to run so close to the hedge these days.”
“He’s paying for it, anyway, poor man. He’s got to walk till he finds a farm where they’ll lend him horses to get the car out.”
“Considering the hour and the climatic conditions, I don’t suppose the farmers will come running. I mean they’ll wait to put some clothes on.”
“Probably. Besides, he doesn’t know the district, so he’s up against something this little night.”
“Of all nights, too, Eve! But what about her, poor lass?”
“Oh, I’m all right.”
“You must be. But don’t you find it rather hot in there? Can I turn on the electric fan?”
“I’ve been making good resolutions to pass the time.”
“Hurray! So’ve I. I’m going to give up ferns. And you can tell me yours as we go along.”
“Go along?”
“Yes, my dear. Didn’t I tell you I was a highwayman? I only left York two hours ago.”
“Quick going.”
“Yes, I came by the boat train, with Black Bess in a horsebox. And now I’m going to abduct you, Eve. Your soul’s not your own when you’re up against High Toby. I have a pistol in my holster, a cloak on my back, and a price on my head. My enemies call me Red Nat, me friends—”
I paused.
“What do your friends call you?”
“Adam,” said I. “Let’s see. You’ll have to get out on the near
side, won’t you? Wait a moment.”
I plunged round the back of the car and opened the door. Certainly it was terribly cold.
While we had been talking, she had been leaning against the side of the tilted car, with her face close to the inch and a half of open window. Except for an occasional flash, which had showed where her eyes were, I had not seen her at all. Expectantly I raised the lamp and peered into the limousine. Out of a huge fur rug a solitary eye regarded me steadily.
“Only one eye?” I said. “How sad. How did it happen?”
The solitary eye went out, and then reappeared with a fellow.
“You remind me of the North Foreland,” said I. “That’s an intermittent light, isn’t it? Two winks and a blink every ten seconds.”
“I didn’t wink.” This in a plainly indignant, if muffled tone – too muffled for me. So:
“I beg your pardon,” said I.
A little hand appeared and pulled the rug away from a small white nose and a mouth whose lips were paler than they should be. But it was a dear mouth.
“I said I didn’t wink.”
“So you did. I don’t mean you did, you know. I mean, I know you said you didn’t. I’m not sure I’ve got it right now.”
“Never mind. I’ve only one brain, and at this hour of night—”
“The vitality of the human frame is at its lowest ebb. Exactly. That’s why you must let me get you out of this as quick as possible.”
“Oh, but I don’t think – I mean—”
“My dear Eve, I know you come of an old-fashioned family – look at your father – but Convention’s going by the board tonight. I’m staying at an inn about nine miles away. We’ll be there under the half hour. There’s supper and a fire waiting for us, W
hy, yes, and you can have Jill’s room. Of course, there’ll be a fire there, too, and everything ready. You see—”
Hurriedly I explained the situation. When I had finished:
“But what’ll the inn people think?” she said, with big eyes.
“Oh, hang the inn people!”
“And supposing it got out?”
“I think the proceedings at the inquest would read worse, my dear. Get up and come along at once.”
“Oh, but you know I can’t.”
“You must. I’m serious. You’ll die if you stop here much longer, my dear child. Do you realize how cold it really is?”
A faint smile came over the gentle face, set in its frame of fur.
“Poor lass,” I cried. “What a fool I am. Give me her hand, and I’Il help her up.”
“But what about Falcon?”
“The chauffeur?”
She nodded. I thought for a moment, then I looked for the companion. There, happily, were tablets and a pencil.
“We’ll write him a note,” said I. “Wait a minute.”
With difficulty I scrawled a few words. Then: “How will this do?”
Falcon, I have been found and taken to shelter. If possible, bring the car to ‘The Three Bulls,’ Steeple Abbas, by noon tomorrow.
“Will you sign it?”
I put the pencil into her hand and held the lamp for her to see. She wrote quickly. When she had finished, I laid the tablets on the seat, where they must be seen at once. When I looked at her again, I saw she was smiling.
“So there’s something in the nickname, after all?”
“What nickname?” said I. “Red Nat?”
“No. ‘Gentleman of the road,’ Adam.”
“Thank you, Eve. If I could feel my mouth, I’d kiss your hand for that. As it is—”
I helped her to her feet and set the lamp on the front seat. Then I bade her stand in the doorway while I wrapped the rug about her.
“I’m afraid I can’t dig you a pathway, so I’m going to carry you to my car. I used to be able to delve once—”
“When Who was a gentleman?”
“Exactly. And you span. But I’m out of practice now. Besides, I left my niblick in London. Come along. Don’t be frightened if I slip. I shan’t go down. Yes, I’ll come back for your dressing-case.”
The next moment she was in my arms, and three minutes later we were making for Fallow at nearer thirty than twenty miles an hour.
As we ran into the village, I heard the church clock chime the half hour. Half past four. We had come well. A moment later I had stopped at the old inn’s door. Except for a flickering light, visible between the curtains of the Cromwell room, the place was in darkness. I clambered stiffly out and felt for the key I had asked for. A Yale lock in the studded door! Never mind. This door is only a reproduction. The original probably shuts off some pantry from some servants’ hall in New York City. However. When I had switched on a course of lights, I went back to the car and opened the door. Have I said that it was a cabriolet?
“Eve,” said I.
No answer.
I took the lamp once more and flooded the car with light. In the far corner, still wrapped in the rugs, my lady lay fast asleep. With some difficulty I got her into my arms. On the threshold I met Thomas, our waiter. He had little on but a coat and trousers, and there was slumber in his eyes.
“I didn’t wait up, sir,” he explained, “but, hearing the car, I just come down to see you’d got everything. Miss Mansel asleep, sir?”
I stared at him for a moment and then looked down at the charge in my arms. A corner of the rug had fallen over her face. Thomas, naturally enough, thought it was Jill.
“Er – yes,” said I. “She’s tired, you know. And you’d better not let her see you. She’ll be awfully angry to think you got up for us. You know what she said.”
Thomas laughed respectfully.
I passed up the stairs, and he followed.
“I’ll only open the door and see that the fire’s all right, sir,” he said.
I placed my burden gently on the sofa, away from the light of the fire.
“You’ll let me light the candles, sir?”
“Not a farthing dip, Thomas. Miss Mansel may wake any moment. You can come and open the coach-house door, if you like.”
“Very good, sir.”
“You can get to it from the inside, can’t you? Because you’re not to go out of doors.”
“Oh, yes, thank you, sir.”
Two minutes later the car was in the garage, and Thomas and I were making our way back past the kitchens. Outside the Cromwell room I stopped.
“You may take Miss Mansel’s dressing-case to her room and see to her fire, then you are to go back to bed.”
“It won’t take a minute to serve you, sir.”
“Thomas, you are to do as I say. It was very good of you to come down. I’m much obliged. Good night.”
“Good night, sir. Oh—”
“Yes?”
“I forgot to tell you, sir, there’s a temporary maid will wait on Miss Mansel in the morning, sir. Susan’s had to go away sudden. I think her father’s ill, sir.”
“I’m sorry for that. All right. I’Il tell Miss Mansel. Good night.”
“Good night, sir.”
As I closed the door of the Cromwell room: “So I’m Miss Mansel,” said Eve.
“Quite right, my dear,” said I. “One of our party – my cousin, in fact. When did you wake?”
“Just as you were lifting me out of the car.”
I took off my cap and shook its snow into the fire.
“I uncover,” said I. “In other words, I take my hat off to you. Eve, you are an artist. I only wish I were.”
“Why?”
“I’d paint you – here, now, just as you are.”
“I know I look awful.”
“You look perfectly sweet.”
“I can’t help it.”
“I shouldn’t try.”
She did look wonderful. I had put her upon the sofa, but she had moved from there, and was sitting on the hearth in front of the great fire. Plainly she had kept her long grey fur coat on, when she had first sat down, but now she had slipped out of it, and it lay all tumbled about her on the rug. She was in evening dress, and might have returned, as I had, from a ball. All blue, it was, blue of a wonderful shade – periwinkle, I think they call it. Her stockings were flesh-coloured and her shoes of gold: these she had taken off, the better to warm her little shining feet. White arms propped her towards the fire, and she sat sideways, with one leg straight by the warm kerb, the other drawn up and bringing her dress tight and a little away from a silk knee. Her dark hair had worked loose under the weight of the rug, and was lying thick about her smooth shoulders. Save in her face, she wore no jewels, but two great brown stars smiled at me from either side of a straight nose. The lips were red now, and her throat soft and white as her shoulders. I gazed down at her.
“No jewels, you see, Adam,” she said suddenly. “I’m afraid you’ve struck a loser this time. You’ll have to stick to the Great North Road in future.”
“No jewels?” said I. “You have a wealth of hair, and what about the pearls behind your lips? They’re worth a king’s ransom.”
“They’re not made to take out, though, and there’s no gold with them.”
She put up the red mouth and showed two rows of teeth, white and even.
“Tempt me no more,” said I. “Oh, Eve, you’re just as bad as ever. After all this time, too. However. I hesitate to mention supper, because you look so lovely sitting there, but—”
She stretched out a warm hand, and I lifted her to her feet. For a second I held the slight fingers.
“Tell me one thing,” said I. “Is there anyone who doesn’t love you?”
The fingers slipped away.
“Yes, stacks of people. You wouldn’t like me a bit, only I’m not myself tonight. I’m just – just Eve. See? New Year’s Eve.”
“Thomas thinks you’re Jill – Miss Mansel.”
“To him I am. To the temporary maid in the morning, too. As for breakfast – oh, you and my high collar must get me through breakfast and out of here and over to Steeple Abbas somehow. Funny, your telling Falcon to go to ‘The Three Bulls.’ It’s where we were making for. I’d taken a room there.”
“By Jove,” said I. “Then, when I went back with Jill, they thought it was you arriving.” And I related what had occurred. When I had finished, she threw back her head and laughed.
“Then you’re not a robber, after all, Adam?”
“Certainly not. But why?”
“I mean, assuming the exchange is a fair one.”
“Fair?” said I. “It’s exquisite. Why, just to look at you’s as good as a feast, and—”
“Which reminds me I’m awfully hungry. Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean that, Adam, dear, I didn’t really.” And my companion leaned against the chimney piece, laughing helplessly.
“That’s torn it,” said I, laughing too.
“And now,” said Eve, recovering, “take off your coat. You must be so tired.”
I drew my pumps out of the great pockets, and threw the coat off me and across the back of a chair. Then I kicked off my great high rubber boots, stepped into my pumps, and looked ruefully at my dress trousers.
“They’re only a little creased,” said the girl.
“You must forgive them,” said I.
“Jill wouldn’t have minded, would she?”
“Jill wouldn’t have mattered.”
“Nor does Eve. Remember my hair.”
“I shall never forget it,” said I. Then I picked up her little shoes and stooped to fit them on to their feet.
Brother of Daphne Page 7