Berry and Co Part 55

"To whose good offices," said Jonah, "do you ascribe your pretty ways?"

"Ura.n.u.s," was the airy reply. "From that deity came also meekness, an unshakable belief in human nature, and the fidgets."

"You ought to have been called after him," said Adele.

"My G.o.dfathers thought otherwise. In a fit of generosity they gave me my name and a pint pot, which the more credulous declared to be silver, but whose hallmark persistently defied detection. Then the fount dried up.

And now let me read your hand. Or would you rather I taught you the three-card trick?"

"It's too dark," I protested. "Besides, she's going to sing."

"Who said so?" said Adele. "I was going to suggest that you told us a fairy tale."

"A song for a tale," said I.

"Done."

"There was once a princess," said I, "with eyes like brown stars and a voice like the song of a silver brook. One day she was sitting all alone by the side of a shady trout-stream, when she heard a bell. For a moment she thought she was dreaming, for she was rather tired. Then she heard it again--a clear tinkle, which seemed to arise from the heart of the stream itself. This surprised the princess very much, because no bells were allowed in her father's kingdom. The old man was a bit of an autocrat, and one morning, when he had been rung up seven times running by subjects who wanted quite a different number, he just pa.s.sed a law prohibiting bells, and that was that. Well, while she was wondering what to do the bell rang again rather angrily, and, before she knew where she was, she had said 'Come in.'

"'At last,' said a voice, and a large frog heaved himself out of the water and sat down on a tuft of gra.s.s on the opposite bank. 'I shan't knock next time.'

"'I didn't hear you knock,' said the princess.

"'I didn't,' said the frog. 'I rang. How's your father?'

"'Full of beans,' said the princess. 'And yours?'

"'That's my business,' said the frog. 'Are you married yet?'

"'No such luck,' said the princess. 'And, what's more, I never shall be.'

"'Why?' said the frog. 'Half the kingdom goes with you, doesn't it?'

"'Exactly,' said the princess. 'And there's the rub.'

"'Where?' said the frog, looking round.

"'Well, I'm all right,' said the princess, 'but who wants half a one-horse kingdom that's mortgaged up to the hilt and a bit over?'

"At this the frog looked so wise that the princess felt quite uncomfortable, and began to think he must be a waiter at the Athenaeum who had had a misunderstanding with a witch. Suddenly--

"'Which of your suitors do you like best?' said the frog.

"'Albert the Watchguard,' said the princess. 'He's a bit of a fool, but you ought to see him dance.'

"'No, I oughtn't,' said the frog. 'It would be extremely bad for me.

Listen. Tell Albert to come down here with a sieve to-morrow morning. He may be a bit of a fool, but, if he doesn't apply for you before lunch, he's a congenital idiot.' And with that he took a short run and dived into the stream.

"The princess did as she was bid, and at eleven o'clock the next morning Albert the Watchguard appeared, complete with sieve, upon the bank of the trout-stream. Twenty-five minutes later, with a cigarette behind his ear and _a nugget of gold in each boot_, he made formal application for the hand of the princess and half the kingdom--a request which was immediately granted.

"Two days later they were married.

"What Albert the Watchguard said, on learning that his half of the kingdom did not include the territory watered by the trout-stream, is not recorded.

"If you remember, he was a bit of a fool."

"Good for you, old chap," said Daphne.

Jill's hand stole out of the darkness and crept into mine.

Berry turned to Adele.

"A blinking wonder," he said, "is not he? Fancy turning out a comic cameo like that on demand. But then for years he's been on the staff of _Chunks_. He does the _Gossipy Gobbets_ column."

Adele laughed musically.

"It was very nice of him to do as I asked," she said. "And as a bargain's a bargain...."

She rose and turned to the open windows....

I saw her settled at the piano, and then stole back.

A moment later the strains of her beautiful mezzo-soprano floated out into the darkness.

It is doubtful whether _Printemps Qui Commence_ ever enjoyed a more exquisite setting.

It was a wonderful night.

If we had driven straight to Brooch the incident would not have occurred.

We had lunched early, for Berry and I were determined to attend the sale of Merry Down. Sir Anthony, who was sure to be there, would need comforting, and we had, moreover, a feeling that we should like to see the last of an old friend. Once the place had pa.s.sed into the power of the dog, we should try to forget. It was Adele's suggestion that she should accompany us. "I'd like to see Brooch," she had said, "and I want to get a new piece of silk for my wrist.w.a.tch. Besides, I can sit in the car while you and Berry are at the sale. That'll save your taking the chauffeur." We agreed readily enough.

Because Adele was with us we started in good time, so that we could go by way of Hickory Hammer and Three Horse Hill. That way would bring us on to the London road at a point five miles from Brooch, and, while the view from the hill was as fine as any in the neighbourhood, Hickory Hammer was not only extremely ancient, but generally accounted one of the most picturesque villages in the whole of England.

I was driving, with n.o.bby beside me, while Adele and Berry sat on the back seat. Our thoughts were not unnaturally dwelling upon the sale, and now and again I caught fragments of conversation which suggested that my brother-in-law was commenting upon the power of money and the physiognomy of Mr. Dunkelsbaum--whose photograph had appeared in the paper that very morning, to grace an interview--with marked acerbity.

Once in a while a ripple of laughter from Adele came to my ears, but for the most part it was a grave discourse, for Berry felt very bitter, and Adele, whose father's father was the son of an English squire, had taken to heart the imminent disseizure with a rare sympathy.

It was five minutes to two when we slid out of Lullaby Coppice and on to the London road. A furlong ahead the road swung awkwardly to the left--a bend which the unexpected _debouchement_ of a by-road rendered a veritable pitfall for the unwary motorist. I slowed for the turn cautiously, for I knew the place, but I was not surprised when, on rounding the corner, we found ourselves confronted with a state of affairs presenting all the elements of a first-cla.s.s smash.

What had happened was transparently clear.

Huddled between a trolley and the nearside bank, which was rising sheer from the road, was a large red limousine, listing heavily to port and down by the head. Both vehicles were facing towards Brooch. Plainly the car had sought to overtake the trolley, which was in the act of emerging from the by-road, and pa.s.s it upon the wrong side. The former, of course, had been travelling too fast to stop, and the burden which the latter was bearing had made it impossible for the other to pa.s.s upon the right-hand side. Three st.u.r.dy oaks, new felled, one of them full fifty swaying feet in length, all of them girt by chains on to the trolley's back, made a redoubtable obstruction. The chauffeur had taken the only possible course and dashed for the narrowing pa.s.sage on the left. A second too late, the car had been pinched between the great wain and the unyielding bank, like a nut between the jaws of the crackers. But for the action of the carter, who had stopped his team dead, the car would have been crushed to flinders.

The two occupants of the limousine were apparently unhurt, for, when I first saw them, they were standing in the middle of the road, looking anxiously in our direction. The next moment they were signalling to us violently, spreading out ridiculous arms, as if the tree-trunks were not putting our pa.s.sage of the road for the present out of the question.

As I brought the Rolls to a standstill, I heard a stifled cry. The next moment Berry's voice hissed in my ear.