Berry and Co Part 44

"_Pardon, madame,_" he said, "_mais vous etes Camille Franc_----That's your cue. Now you say 'Serwine!' Just like that. 'Serwine!' Put all the loathing you can into it--you'll find it can hold quite a lot--and fix me with a gla.s.sy eye. Then I blench and break out Into a cold sweat. Oh, it's a great game."

"Poor old chap," said Daphne. "It must have been awful. But haven't you got her?"

"It's a he!" cried Jill, squeaking with excitement. "It's a he. Jonah's bringing him----"

"A _what_?" said my sister, taking a pace backward.

"A male," said I. "You know. Like n.o.bby. Separate legs, and shaves on Thursdays."

"Do you mean to say that it's a _chef_?"

I nodded.

My sister collapsed into a convenient chair and closed her eyes.

Presently she began to shake with laughter.

"It is droll, isn't it?" said Berry. "People wouldn't believe it. Fancy travelling a hundred and fifty miles to molest a lot of strange women, and then finding that for all the good you've done you might as well have spent the day advertising for 'The Lost Chord.'"

My sister pulled herself together.

"Thank goodness, I had the sense to engage Pauline," she announced.

"Something told me I'd better. But I waited before taking up her reference, on the off-chance of this one being a marvel. Where is the wretched man?"

"Jonah fetched up with him. He's stayed behind because of the Customs.

They ought to be here any minute."

"Well, there's no place for him to sleep here," said Daphne. "Fitch will have to look after him for tonight, and to-morrow he'll have to go back."

Berry looked at his watch.

"Five past seven," he said. "As the blighter's here, why not let him sub-edit the dinner to-night? It'll shorten his life, but it may save ours. You never know."

My sister hesitated. Then--

"He'll never do it," she said. "I can suggest it, but, if he's anything of a cook, he'll go off the deep end at once."

"And give notice," said I. "Well, that's exactly what we want. Then we shan't have to fire him. He can just push off quietly to-morrow, Pauline will roll up on Monday, and everything will be lovely in the garden."

"That's it," said Berry. "If he consents, well and good. If he declines, so much the better. It's a blinkin' certainty. Whichever happens, we can't lose."

"All right," said Daphne. "I shall make Jonah tell him."

It took Jonah and M. Francois longer to satisfy the officers of His Majesty's Customs and Excise than we had antic.i.p.ated, and I had consumed a much-needed whisky and soda and was on the way to the bathroom when I heard them arrive.

Before I had completed a leisurely toilet, it was all over.

As we waited in the lounge of the _Carlton_ Grill for a table, which we had been too late to reserve, my sister related the circ.u.mstances which had led to the _debacle_.

"The wretched little man didn't seem to take to the idea of starting in right away, but I explained that he needn't do any more than just run his eye over the _menu_, and that, as they were going to have the same dinner in the servants' hall, it really only amounted to looking after his own food.

"Then I sent for Falcon, explained things, and told him to look after the man this evening, and that I was making arrangements for him to stay with Fitch over the garage. Then I had Mrs. Chapel up."

"That, I take it," said Berry, "is the nymph lately responsible for the preparation of our food?"

Daphne nodded.

"I told her about Francois, and that, as he was here, he would help her with dinner to-night. I said he was very clever, and all that sort of thing, and that I wanted her to show him what she was cooking, and listen to any suggestions he had to make."

"I suppose you added that he couldn't speak a word of English," said her husband.

"Be quiet," said Daphne. "Besides, he can. Several words. Any way, she didn't seem over-pleased, but, as Pauline's coming on Monday, that didn't worry me. So I sent her away, and rang up Fitch and told him he must fix the Frenchman up for the night."

"Did he seem over-pleased?"

"I didn't wait to hear. I just rang off quick. Then I went up to dress.

The next thing I knew was that they'd tried to murder each other, and that Camille had bitten William, and n.o.bby'd bitten Camille. I don't suppose we shall ever know exactly what happened."

So far as we had been able to gather from the butler, who had immediately repaired to Daphne's room for instructions, and was labouring under great excitement, my sister's orders had been but grudgingly obeyed. Mrs. Chapel had been ill-tempered and obstructive, and had made no attempt to disguise her suspicion of the _chef_. The latter had consequently determined to be as nasty as the circ.u.mstances allowed, had eyed her preparations for dinner with a marked contempt, and had communed visibly and audibly with himself in a manner which it was impossible to mistake. Finally he had desired to taste the soup which she was cooking. Poor as his English was, his meaning was apparent, but the charwoman had affected an utter inability to understand what he said. This had so much incensed the Frenchman that the other servants had intervened and insisted on Mrs. Chapel's compliance with his request. With an ill grace she s.n.a.t.c.hed the lid from the saucepan....

Everything was now in train for a frightful explosion. In bitterness the fuse had been laid, the charge of pa.s.sion was tamped, the detonator of spleen was in position. Only a match was necessary....

Camille Francois, however, preferred to employ a torch.

After allowing the fluid to cool, the Frenchman--by this time the cynosure of sixteen vigilant eyes--introduced a teaspoonful into his mouth....

The most sanguine member of his audience was hardly expecting him to commend the beverage. Mrs. Chapel herself must have felt instinctively that no man born of woman would in the circ.u.mstances renounce such a magnificent opportunity of "getting back." n.o.body, however, was apparently prepared for so vigorous and dramatic an appreciation of the dainty.

For the s.p.a.ce of two seconds the _chef_ held it cupped in his mouth.

Then with an expression of deadly loathing, intensified by a horrible squint, he expelled the liquid on to the kitchen floor. Ignoring the gasp which greeted his action, he was observed to shrug his shoulders.

"I veep my eyes," he announced, "for ze pore pig."

Here the steady flood of the butler's narrative became excusably broken into the incoherence of rapids and the decent reticence of disappearing falls. Beyond the fact that Mrs. Chapel had swung twice to the jaw, and that Camille had replied with an ineffectual kick before they were dragged screaming apart, few details of the state of pandemonium that ensued came to our ears. I imagine that a striking _tableau vivant_ somewhat on the lines of Meissonier's famous painting was unconsciously improvised. That three maids hardly restrained Mrs. Chapel, that the footman who sought to withhold Camille was bitten for his pains by the now ravening Frenchman, that the latter was only saved from the commission of a still more aggravated a.s.sault by the timely arrival of the butler, that n.o.bby, attracted by the uproar, contributed to the confusion first by barking like a demoniac and then by inflicting a punctured wound upon the calf of the alien's leg, we learned more by inference and deduction than by direct report. That our impending meal would be more than usually unappetizing was never suggested. That was surmise upon our part, pure and simple. The conviction, however, was so strong that the repast was cancelled out of hand.

Mrs. Chapel was dismissed and straitly charged never to return. Camille was placed in the custody of the chauffeur and escorted to the latter's rooms above the garage, to be returned to France upon the following morning. n.o.bby was commended for his discrimination. Jonah was reviled.

All this, however, took time. The respective dismissal and disposal of the combatants were not completed until long past eight, and it was almost nine before we sat down to dinner.

"I think," said Daphne faintly, "I should like some champagne."

Berry ordered the wine.

It was abnormally hot, and the doors that were usually closed were set wide open.

From the street faint s.n.a.t.c.hes of a vibrant soprano came knocking at our tired ears.

Mechanically we listened.