House That Berry Built

by Dornford Yates

  “Not too bad,” he panted, and wrung the sweat from his face. “Am I to understand that people do this for pleasure?”

  “They go up to the second plateau and over the top and down.”

  “Chacun à son goût,” said Berry. “You might tell me if you see a bear coming. Not that I can attempt to elude him – my legs won’t work. But I can discourse to the brute. They say that bears are sympathetic – I don’t know whether it’s true.”

  “I seem to have heard that the best thing is to ignore them.”

  “Oh, be your age,” said Berry. “You can’t ignore a bear in a spot like this. I know they don’t eat flesh if they can get roots: but supposing we meet one that’s slimming or short of Vitamin B.” He looked round uneasily. “You know, I’m not mad about these precincts. They’re simply made for a bear-garden.”

  In the failing light, the place was unattractive. So far as I saw, the trees prevented all view, and the turf was scrubby and was strewn about with boulders and the aged remnants of trees.

  ‘A dip to the left.’

  I pricked my ears, to listen for the stroke of an axe. But the silence was absolute. If Pernot was hereabouts, he had finished work for the day. And there I did not blame him. Dusk was about to come in. Which meant that, if we were to find him, we had no time to lose.

  “Ready?” said I.

  “One minute more,” said Berry. “It’s the first time I’ve rested in a bear-garden, and as, if I can help it, I shall never do so again… Look at that lump of timber. It looks just like a bear in this ‘dim, religious light’. It’s probably a statue of the brute that founded this place.”

  I must confess that it did resemble a bear. No doubt, had the light been stronger…

  Here the ‘statue’ rose to its feet and ambled away.

  Together we watched its departure in the most pregnant silence that I have ever known.

  As it disappeared in the shadows—

  “Thank you very much,” said Berry. “And now I can’t help feeling we might be getting back. They can build a fishmarket in Naboth for all I care. As for looking about for dips—”

  A footstep beside us made us jump out of our skins.

  Then a pleasant voice spoke in French.

  “Just as well, Messieurs, that he was too sleepy to care. He has had his rest in the sun and has gone for a drink. But Messieurs are late. They were not proposing to go higher?”

  “Er – another time,” said Berry. “You can go on?”

  “Yes, indeed,” said the other, whom I was quite sure was Pernot, because of the axe he bore. “The second plateau is half an hour’s walk from here. And then you go over and down the other side. The young de Moulin will tell you.” He threw up his head and laughed. “But I think I address the messieurs who saved that young wretch’s life.”

  “He did that,” said Berry, laying a hand on my arm.

  Pernot put out his right hand.

  “I am glad to meet you,” he said. “It was a valiant deed. And your life was worth more than his.”

  As I set my hand in his—

  “But how do you know us?” said I. “And what is your name?”

  “My name is Pernot, Monsieur.”

  “Pernot!” cried Berry. “Are you the Pernot that owns the field next to ours?”

  “That is right, Monsieur. We are neighbours. Ma foi, but you are building a wonderful home.”

  “It would be much more wonderful if you would sell us your field.”

  Pernot lowered his axe and lifted his eyes to the sky.

  “Ah, that. Yes, Levillon told me. And I said no. There are complications, Monsieur. And then you know, that field is a beautiful field. Compared with some I could mention, it is a paradise.”

  “True,” said I. “It is a very nice field. But we are prepared to pay a very nice price. What are these complications, of which you speak?”

  “Always there are complications, or so I find.”

  “Well, I can’t see them,” said Berry. “But you are the best judge of that. All the same, we should like to have it. I don’t wish to press you, Pernot; but – well, I know that you bought it.” Pernot started. “It isn’t as if it was your family’s land.”

  Pernot looked round. Then—

  “Monsieur knows that I bought it?”

  “Well, so I’ve been told.”

  “It is true,” cried Pernot. “I did. I paid the good money over – four years ago. By the laws of God it is mine.”

  “By the laws of God?” said I. “And what of the laws of men?”

  Pernot smote with his axe upon the ground.

  “I have no title,” he said. “The sale was not registered. I thought to save the money the registration would cost. And now, when that rogue of a Busquet—”

  “Wait a moment,” said Berry. “Whom did you buy it from?”

  “I am telling Monsieur. I bought it off Émile Busquet, the son-in-law of old Puyou, who died last year. He lives in Paris, Monsieur, and he is not a nice man. When it comes to his knowledge that Monsieur desires this field, he will hand back the money I paid him and sell it to Monsieur himself.”

  “Do you hold his receipt?” I said.

  “I have it at home, Monsieur. Everything is in order – except for the registration I did not do.” He hesitated. “I have been frank with Monsieur.”

  “I’m thankful you have,” said Berry. “We’ll go to Monsieur de Moulin and see what he can do to help us over the jump.”

  Pernot shook his head.

  “He will advise Monsieur to deal with Busquet direct.”

  “I don’t think he will,” said Berry. “And if he does, I shall not take his advice. I have a weakness myself for the laws of God.”

  Pernot started forward.

  “Monsieur means—”

  “That I will buy from no one but you. Can you come and see de Moulin tomorrow and show him what papers you have? We’ll drive you down, if you can.”

  Pernot took off his béret and put out his hand.

  “I have always heard you could trust the English,” he said.

  “I should hope so,” said Berry, shaking hands. “And now what about the price?”

  “Monsieur will not find me unreasonable.”

  “I am sure of that. But before we see my lawyer, we must have agreed the price.”

  Pernot swung his axe to and fro.

  “I am fond of that field,” he said. “It is very deep and handsome – the best upon Evergreen.”

  “I don’t know about that,” said Berry. “But I quite admit that it is a very nice field.”

  “It is flat, too. Should Monsieur make his drive there, his work is already done.”

  “Scarcely,” said Berry, “but we won’t argue the point. What figure do you suggest?”

  “I had thought of four hundred pounds.”

  “Well, I hadn’t,” said Berry, shortly. “Four hundred is far too much. We’ll give you three.”

  “Ah, three is too little, Monsieur. Three hundred and eighty, perhaps.”

  “We’ll give you three hundred and fifty – and that’s a damned good price.”

  Pernot shrugged his shoulders.

  “What will you?” he said. “Very well. Three hundred and fifty pounds.”

  We all shook hands upon that.

  “You’ll come back with us to Lally?”

  “Yes, indeed, Monsieur,” said Pernot. “I had meant to stay here in the cabin: but if, tomorrow, Monsieur is to drive me to Pau… Besides, it will be dark in the forest. But I know the path we must take as the palm of my hand.”

  It was very nearly dark on the plateau – and very cold. I could only just see the line of the way we had come. And, though I used my torch when we came to the trees, it was abundantly clear that Pernot’s assistance would prove invaluable.

  There was no moon, and the darkness within the forests was that of the pit itself. That, if Pernot had not been with us, we should have got down somehow, I have no doubt: but that mos
t unpleasant descent would have taken us hours to make, for, before we had covered a furlong, I tripped and fell, and though I tried to save it, I dropped the torch. But Pernot led us down in less than two hours.

  It was natural to enter a café in the Street of the Waterfall. There, over some excellent brandy, a rough Agreement was signed; and when Pernot insisted on paying for one more round, I knew that the price we were paying was higher than he had hoped. But we did not grudge it him. We did not even grudge it him the next day, when Busquet’s receipt was produced. This showed he was making a profit of nearly seven hundred per cent.

  De Moulin looked down his nose.

  Then he glared at Pernot, sitting on the edge of a chair and wiping the sweat from his face.

  “What fools you peasants are! You seek to save a few sous and so throw a fortune away.”

  The unfortunate Pernot writhed.

  “But no, Monsieur. Monsieur will save it.”

  “I do not know that I can. The sale can be registered – yes: provided you pay the fine. But there must be a proper Deed – which this Busquet must sign. And if he will not sign, then it cannot be registered.”

  “But he cannot refuse,” cried Pernot. “I have his receipt.”

  “Oh, yes he can,” said de Moulin. “At present the title is his. All that he has to do is to pay you back the forty-five pounds which you paid. And then he can sell to Monsieur…for three hundred and fifty, instead.”

  Pernot yelped with dismay.

  “But Monsieur has said that he will buy only from me.”

  “Monsieur is very handsome in all that he does. But what of these strangers who have been seen in your field? When they go to see this Busquet—”

  “No, no,” screamed Pernot.

  “Calm yourself,” said de Moulin. He turned to Berry and me. “I will tell you what I shall do. First, I prepare an Agreement which you and this fellow will sign. He will promise to register his title and then to sell you the meadow for three hundred and fifty pounds. That will only take half an hour. Then I prepare a Deed for the previous sale. This will go to Paris tonight by messenger. I shall send it to a colleague of mine. He will see this Busquet at once – and will do his best to obtain his signature. He may have to make him a present. That cannot be helped. For, if those strangers are who I think they are, if once they get hold of Busquet, the game is up.”

  “And who,” said Berry, “who do you think they are?”

  “There are two men here who are seeking sites for hotels. It is an immense combination, with money to burn.” He returned to Pernot. “You hear. I shall do my best – not at all for you, because you do not deserve it; but for these gentlemen, who have sore need of the meadow you wish to sell.”

  “Thank you, Monsieur,” said Pernot, humbly.

  “I promise nothing. But I shall do my best. And now I prepare the papers. Yours, my friends, will be ready in half an hour. But I shall not be ready for Pernot till four o’clock. But he can return by bus.”

  As we took our leave—

  “How soon will you know?” I said.

  “I shall tell my colleague to wire me. He is a man of parts, and I think he will do the trick. That is, of course, if the others have not arrived first in the field. But they will not do that unless they have smelt a rat. In which case they may telephone to Paris… In any event, it will be a matter of hours. These business men do not wait. In half an hour, then…”

  Half an hour later the protocol had been signed.

  As Berry laid down his pen—

  “And if they get to Busquet first, we may as well tear this up?”

  De Moulin spread out his hands.

  “You put it bluntly, my friend; but I cannot say no. But you have done your best and I shall do mine. And there is, you know, a proverb that Fortune delights to help those who help themselves. You will ring me up here tomorrow at a quarter to six?”

  We seemed to be doomed to suffer these very trying delays, when everything hung in the balance, but the balance would not move for twenty-four hours or more.

  We had had a great deal of good fortune. I had had the luck to observe the strangers surveying the field. We had had the luck to find Pernot the evening before – the man was on his way to his cabin, when he heard our approach, and came clean out of his way to see who it was on the plateau so late in the day. Had we been five minutes later, we should not have met that night. Best of all, de Moulin was a man of action…

  Still, we were far from easy. The strangers were business men.

  “Tell me again,” said Jill, “about the bear.”

  “Oh, I wish you wouldn’t,” said Berry. “I’ve had some shocks in my time, but this was the worst.”

  Daphne looked up.

  “You can never relate it, for no one would ever believe you.”

  “Pernot saw it,” said Berry. “You can’t get away from that. No doubt, when he saw it, he knew that it was a bear. But I didn’t. I’m not familiar with the brutes. When I take a – a stroll commended by every blasted pamphlet the Basses Pyrénées puts out, I don’t expect that walk to be frequented by evil beasts. ‘Glorious views,’ they say. And that’s a lie. But they don’t say ‘Close-ups of bears.’ I tell you, the mammal was less than twenty yards off. And it looked like a baulk of wood. Damn it all, I might have sat down on the swine. Easily. I thought it was a freak of nature. Grey-brown, it was – like a piece of weathered timber. And I called Boy’s attention to it. If I hadn’t been so done, I’d have gone up and had a good look. And then, without a word, the darling got up… To say that my intestines turned over means nothing at all. When I put a hand on my stomach, it wasn’t there.”

  “I wish I’d seen it,” said Jill.

  “There was nothing to see,” said Berry. “I tell you, my bowels were gone.”

  “You are disgusting. I wish I’d seen the bear.”

  “There’s morbidness,” said Berry. “There’s—”

  “It didn’t do anything to you.”

  “It took five years from my life.”

  “It went away. It didn’t come towards you.”

  “I refuse,” said Berry, “to invest that bear with any qualities. No decent bear would practise deception like that.”

  “Which is absurd,” said Jill. “It didn’t mean to look like a tree.”

  “Of course it did,” said Berry. “It actually stuck out a leg, to resemble a branch.”

  “Yes, but you thought it looked like a bear. And if it looked like a bear, then it wasn’t being deceitful.”

  “I must decline,” said Berry, “to continue this argument. I know a bear when I see one, and I was most grossly deceived. At the time the deception was practised, I happened to be without the use of my legs. Had I not been so embarrassed I should almost certainly have inspected what I took – and was meant to take – to be a phenomenon. Probably with untoward results – from my point of view.”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t sit down on it.”

  “So,” said Berry,” am I. More than glad. Almost rapturous. And now d’you think we could talk about something else? Bears are all right – in their place. In a very deep pit, for instance – with b-bars all round. But, as a divan… D’you think I could have a small brandy? I don’t feel too good. I expect it’s talking too much.”

  A flash of black silk, and Therèse had her back to the door.

  “Pardon, Mesdames, Messieurs, but I have only just heard. God in heaven, and Monsieur has sat down with a bear. With but five metres between them. Lally is full of the tale. And the bear has seen fit to retire. And Monsieur has called out ‘Bon appétit,’ as it withdraws.”

  “I believe you did,” said I, laughing.

  “And the bear said ‘Trust Baldwin,’” said Berry, “and gave the Fascist salute.”

  “But it is true, then, that Monsieur has sat where he was, but the bear ran away?”

  Berry shrugged his shoulders.

  “He need not have gone. There was plenty of room for us bot
h.”

  Therèse raised bright eyes to heaven.

  “And Monsieur Boy? He has subscribed to this madness?”

  “I was present,” said I. “But there was no madness about it. Everyone behaved very well.”

  “Monsieur suggests it was nice feeling that caused the bear to withdraw?”

  “Possibly,” said Berry. “Bears are sensitive things.”

  “No doubt that is why they devour the innocent lamb?”

  “So do you,” said Berry. “But you like it roast, with mint sauce.”

  “I resign myself,” said Therèse. “I cannot argue with Monsieur. But it is not right that Monsieur should consort with the dangerous beasts. Monsieur is very brave, but on the next occasion I beg that it will be Monsieur who leaves the field.”

  “I’ll think it over,” said Berry. “Two glasses of brandy, Therèse.”

  “Parfaitement, Monsieur.”

  She withdrew, to return with the spirit almost at once.

  As she poured it out—

  “It is the old man, Ulysse, who has won the laugh of the day.”

  “And what did he say?” said I.

  “He said that, for him, the bear had waylaid Monsieur, because he was wanting news of Monsieur Le Dung.”

  But I knew that Pernot was not laughing – in the Street of the Waterfall…

  Nor did we laugh the next morning, when Joseph’s cousin arrived. In fact he drove up, to see Joseph, learn the truth of the matter and tell what he knew.

  His report was ominous.

  The two men had waited to see him till six o’clock. They had then returned to Pau: but at ten o’clock the next morning their car drove up to his house.

  The interview was not cordial. Two minutes had sufficed to convince them that they had been fooled, and they had left on the instant for the Land Registry at Pau.

  “I heard the direction given – the Rue de Liège. And were they angry, Monsieur? For me, a dangerous mood. They did not storm, but they looked most cold and black. And when I spoke of mistakes, one of them spat at me, ‘I have seen these mistakes before.’ And then they were gone.”

  “This was yesterday morning,” said Jonah.

  “Yesterday morning, Monsieur, at ten o’clock.”