"I observe," said I, "that you are growing up. Your adolescence is at hand. You are fast emerging from the chrysalis of girlish innocence, eager to show yourself a pert and scheming butterfly." My cousin regarded me with feigned bewilderment. "Yes, you've got the baby stare all right, but you must learn to control that little red mouth. Watch Daphne."

Jill made no further endeavour to restrain the guilty laughter which was trembling upon her lips.

"I b-believe you just love her," she bubbled.

I thought very rapidly. Then—

"I think we all do," said I. "She's very attractive."

"I mean it," said Jill.

"So do I. Look at her ears. Oh, I forgot. Hides them under her hair, doesn't she? Her eyes, then."

"I observe," said Jill pompously, "that you are sitting up and taking notice. Your adol—adol—er—what you said, is at hand. You are emerging from the chrysalis of ignorance——"

"This is blasphemy. You wicked girl. And what are you getting at? Matchmaking or only blackmail?"

"Well, it's time you got married, isn't it? I don't want you to, dear, but I know you've got to soon, and—and I'd like you to be happy."

There was a little catch in her voice, and I looked down to see her eyes shining.

"Little Jill," I said, "if I marry six wives, I shall still be in love with my cousin—a little fair girl, with great grey eyes and the prettiest ways and a heart of the purest gold. And now shall we cry here or by The Serpentine?"

She caught at my arm, laughing.

"Boy, you're very——Oh, I say! Where's Nobby?"

We had reached the Achilles Statue, and a hurried retrospect showed me the terrier some thirty paces away, exchanging discourtesies with an Aberdeen. The two were walking round each other with a terrible deliberation, and from their respective demeanours it was transparently clear that only an immediate distraction could avert the scandal of a distressing brawl.

Regardless of my surroundings, I summoned the Sealyham in my "parade" voice. To my relief he started and, after a menacing look at his opponent, presumably intended to discourage an attack in rear, cautiously withdrew from his presence and, once out of range, came scampering in our direction.

My brother-in-law and Daphne, whom we had outdistanced, arrived at the same time.

As I was reproving the terrier—

"The very people," said a familiar voice.

It was the Assistant Commissioner, labouring under excitement which he with difficulty suppressed. He had been hurrying, and was out of breath.

"I want you to cross the road and walk along by the side of The Row," he said jerkily. "If you see anyone you recognize, take off your hat. And, Mrs. Pleydell, you lower your parasol."

"But, my dear chap," said Berry, "they were all masked."

"Well, if you recognize a voice, or even——"

"A voice? My dear fellow, we're in the open air. Besides, what jury——"

"For Heaven's sake," cried the other, "do as I ask I I know it's a chance in a million. Think me mad, call me a fool—anything you like ... but go."

His earnestness was irresistible.

I whistled to Nobby—who had seized the opportunity of straying, apparently by accident, towards a bull-terrier—and started to stroll in the direction of The Row. Jill walked beside me, twittering, and a glance over my shoulder showed me my sister and Berry a horse's length behind. Behind them, again, came the Assistant Commissioner.

We crossed the road and entered the walk he had mentioned.

It was a beautiful day. The great sun flamed out of a perfect sky, and there was little or no wind. With the exception of a riding-master and two little girls The Row was empty, but the walk was as crowded as a comfortably filled ball-room, if you except the dancers who are sitting out; for, while three could walk abreast with small inconvenience either to others or themselves, there was hardly a seat to spare.

I have seen smarter parades. It was clear that many habitues had already left Town, and that a number of visitors had already arrived. But there was apparent the same quiet air of gaiety, the same good humour which fine feathers bring, and, truth to tell, less ennui and more undisguised enjoyment than I can ever remember.

Idly I talked with Jill, not thinking what I said nor noticing what she answered, but my heart was pounding against my ribs, and I was glancing incessantly from side to side in a fever of fear lest I should miss the obvious.

Now and again I threw a look over my shoulder. Always Berry and Daphne were close behind. Fervently I wished that they were in front.

I began to walk more slowly....

Suddenly I realized that I was streaming with sweat.

As I felt for my handkerchief—

"Look at Nobby," said Jill. "Whatever's he doing?"

I glanced at my cousin to follow the direction of her eyes.

Nobby was sitting up, begging, before a large elderly gentleman who was seated, immaculately dressed, some six paces away. He was affecting not to see the terrier, but there was a queer frozen look about his broad smile that set me staring. Even as I gazed he lowered his eyes and lifting a hand from his knee, began to regard the tips of his fingers, as though they were ungloved....

For a second I stood spellbound.

Then I took off my hat.



CHAPTER IX

HOW ADELE FESTE ARRIVED, AND MR. DUNKLESBAUM SUPPED WITH THE DEVIL.

"There she is!" cried Jill.

"Where?" said I, screwing up my eyes and peering eagerly at the crowded taffrails.

"There, Boy, there. Look, she's seen us. She's waving."

Hardly I followed the direction of my cousin's pink index finger, which was stretched quivering towards the promenade deck.

"Is that her in blue?"

But a smiling Jill was already nodding and waving unmistakably to the tall slim figure, advances which the latter was as surely returning with a cheerly wave of her slight blue arm. Somewhat sheepishly I took off my hat.

Adele Feste had arrived.

More than fifteen months had elapsed since we had reluctantly seen her into the boat-train at Euston and wished her a safe journey to her American home. At the time, with an uneasiness bred of experience, I had wondered whether our friendship was to survive the battery of time and distance, or whether it was destined to slip into a decline and so, presently, out of our lives, fainting and painless. Touch, however, had been maintained by a fitful correspondence, and constant references to Miss Feste's promised visit to White Ladies—a consummation which we one and all desired—were made for what they were worth. Finally my sister sat down and issued a desperate summons. "My dear, don't keep us waiting any longer. Arrive in August and stay for six months. If you don't, we shall begin to believe what we already suspect—that we live too far away." The thrust went home. Within a month the invitation had been accepted, with the direct result that here were Jill and I, at six o'clock of a pleasant August evening, standing upon a quay at Southampton, while the Rolls waited patiently, with Fitch at her wheel, a stone's throw away, ready to rush our guest and ourselves over the odd fifteen miles that lay between the port and White Ladies.

With us in the car we could take the inevitable cabin trunk and dressing-case. Adele's heavy baggage was to be consigned to the care of Fitch, who would bring it by rail the same evening to Mockery Dale, the little wayside station which served five villages and our own among them.

Nobody from the quay was allowed to board the liner, and none of the passengers were allowed to disembark, until the baggage had been off-loaded. For the best part, therefore, of an hour and a half Jill and I hovered under the shadow of the tall ship, walking self-consciously up and down, or standing looking up at the promenade deck with, so far as I was concerned, an impotently fatuous air and, occasionally, the meretricious leer usually reserved for the photographer's studio.

At last—

"If they don't let them off soon," I announced, "I shall break down. The strain of being cordial with somebody who's in sight, but out of earshot, is becoming unbearable. Let's go and have a breather behind the hutment." And I indicated an erection which looked like a ticket-office that had been thrown together during the Crimean War.

But Jill was inexorable.

"It can't be long now," she argued, "and if we go away——There!" She seized my arm with a triumphant clutch. "Look! They're beginning to get off."

It was true. One by one the vanguard of passengers was already straggling laden on to the high gangway. I strained my eyes for a glimpse of the slight blue figure, which had left the taffrail and was presumably imprisoned in the press which could be observed welling out of a doorway upon the main deck....

A sudden and violent stress upon my left hand at once reminded me of Nobby's existence, and suggested that of a cat. Mechanically I held fast to the lead, at the opposite end of which the Sealyham was choking and labouring in a frenzied endeavour to molest a sleek tabby, which, from the assurance of its gait, appeared to be a persona grata upon the quay. The attempted felony attracted considerable attention, which should have been otherwise directed, with the result that a clergyman and two ladies were within an ace of being overrun by an enormous truckload of swaying baggage and coarsely reviled by a sweating Hercules for their pains. As it was, the sudden diversion of the trolley projected several pieces of luggage on to the quay, occasioning an embryo stampede of the bystanders and drawing down a stern rebuke, delivered in no measured terms, from a blue-coated official, who had not seen what had happened, upon the heads of innocent and guilty alike. The real offender met my accusing frown with the disarming smile of childish innocence, and, when I shook my head, wagged his tail unctuously. As I picked him up and put him under my arm—

"So this is Nobby," said Adele.

I uncovered and nodded.

"And he had a bath this morning, so as to be all nice and clean when Miss Feste arrived. I did, too."

"How reckless!" said Adele. "You look very well on it."

"Thank you," said I, shaking hands. "And you look glorious. Hullo! You've let your hair grow. I am glad."

"Think it's an improvement?"

"If possible."

The well-marked eyebrows went up, the bright brown eyes regarded me quizzically, the faint familiar smile hung maddeningly on the red lips.

"Polite as ever," she flashed.

"Put it down to the bath," said I. "Cleanliness is next to—er—devotion."

"Yes, and he's been counting the days," broke in Jill. "He has really. Of course, we all have. But——Oh, Adele, I'm so glad you've come."

Adele drew my cousin's arm within her own.

"So'm I," she said quietly. "And now—I did have a dressing-case once. And a steamer-trunk.... D'you think it's any good looking for them?"

Twenty minutes later we were all three—four with Nobby—on the front seat of the Rolls, which was nosing its way gingerly out of the town.

"I wonder if you realize," said Adele, "what a beautiful country you live in."

At the moment we were immediately between an unpleasantly crowded tram and a fourth-rate beerhouse.

"Don't you have trams?" said I. "Or does alcohol mean so much to you? I suppose prohibition is a bit of a jar."

"To tell you the truth, I was thinking of the Isle of Wight. It looked so exquisite as we were coming in. Just like a toy continent out of a giant's nursery."

"Before the day is out," I prophesied, "you shall see finer things than that."

Once clear of the streets, I gave the car her head.

For a while we slid past low-lying ground, verdant and fresh and blowing, but flat and sparsely timbered, with coppices here and there and, sometimes, elms in the hedgerows, and, now and again, a parcel of youngster oaks about a green—fair country enough at any time, and at this summer sundown homely and radiant. But there was better to come.

The car fled on.

Soon the ground rose sharply by leaps and bounds, the yellow road swerving to right and left, deep tilted meadows on one side with a screen of birches beyond, and on the other a sloping rabble of timber, whose foliage made up a tattered motley, humble and odd and bastard, yet, with it all, so rich in tender tones and unexpected feats of drapery that Adele cried that it was a slice of fairyland and sat with her chin on her shoulder, till the road curled up into the depths of a broad pine-wood, through which it cut, thin, and dead straight, and cool, and strangely solemn. In a flash it had become the nave of a cathedral, immense, solitary. Sombre and straight and tall, the walls rose up to where the swaying roof sobered the mellow sunshine and only let it pass dim and so, sacred. The wanton breeze, caught in the maze of tufted pinnacles, filtered its chastened way, a pensive organist, learned to draw grave litanies from the boughs and reverently voice the air of sanctity. The fresh familiar scent hung for a smokeless incense, breathing high ritual and redolent of pious mystery. No circumstance of worship was unobserved. With one consent birds, beasts and insects made not a sound. The precious pall of silence lay like a phantom cloud, unruffled. Nature was on her knees.

The car fled on.

Out of the priestless sanctuary, up over the crest of the rise, into the kiss of the sunlight we sailed, and so on to a blue-brown moor, all splashed and dappled with the brilliant yellow of the gorse in bloom and rolling away into the hazy distance like an untroubled sea. So for a mile it flowed, a lazy pomp of purple, gold-flecked and glowing. Then came soft cliffs of swelling woodland, rising to stay its course with gentle dignity—walls that uplifted eyes found but the dwindled edge of a far mightier flood that stretched and tossed, a leafy waste of billows, flaunting more living shades of green than painters dream of, laced here and there with gold and, once in a long while, shot with crimson, rising and falling with Atlantic grandeur, till the eye faltered, and the proud rich waves seemed to be breaking on the rosy sky.

And over all the sun lay dying, his crimson ebb of life staining the firmament with splendour, his mighty heart turning the dance of Death to a triumphant progress, where Blood and Flame rode by with clouds for chargers, and Earth and Sky themselves shouldered the litter of their passing King.

An exclamation of wonder broke from Adele, and Jill cried to me to stop.

"Just for a minute, Boy, so that she can see it properly."

Obediently I slowed to a standstill. Then I backed the great car and swung up a side track for the length of a cricket-pitch. The few cubits thus added to our stature extended the prospect appreciably. Besides, it was now unnecessary to crane the neck.

At last—

"If you're waiting for me to say 'Go,'" said Adele, "I shouldn't. I'm quite ready to sit here till nightfall. It's up to you to tear me away."

I looked at Jill.

"Better be getting on," I said. "The others'll be wondering where we are."

She nodded.

We did not stop again till the car came to rest easily before the great oak door, which those who built White Ladies hung upon its tremendous hinges somewhere in the 'forties of the sixteenth century.

* * * * *

"It is my duty," said Berry, "to inform you that on Wednesday I shall not be available."

"Why?" said my wife.

"Because upon that day I propose to dispense justice in my capacity of a Justice of the Peace. I shall discriminate between neither rich nor poor. Beggars and billionaires shall get it equally in the neck. Innocent and guilty alike——"

"That'll do," said Daphne. "What about Thursday?"

"Thursday's clear. One moment, though. I had an idea there was something on that day." For a second he drummed on the table, clearly cudgelling his brains. Suddenly, "I knew it," he cried. "That's the day of the sale. You know. Merry Down. I don't know what's the matter with my memory. I've got some rotten news."

"What?"

Daphne, Jill, Jonah and I fired the question simultaneously.

"A terrible fellow's after it. One Dunkelsbaum. Origin doubtful—very. Last known address, Argentina. Naturalized in July, 1914. Strictly neutral during the War, but managed to net over a million out of cotton, which he sold to the Central Powers at a lower price than Great Britain offered before we tightened the blockade. Never interned, of course. Well, he tried to buy Merry Down by private treaty, but Sir Anthony wouldn't sell to him. They say the sweep's crazy about the place and that he means to have it at any price. Jolly, isn't it?"

There was a painful silence.

Merry Down was the nearest estate to White Ladies, and was almost as precious to us as our own home. For over two centuries a Bagot had reigned uninterruptedly over the rose-red mansion and the spreading park, the brown water and the waving woods—a kingdom of which we had been free since childhood. Never an aged tree blew down but we were told of it, and now—the greatest of them all was falling, the house of Bagot itself.

One of the old school, Sir Anthony had stood his ground up to the last. The War had cost him dear. His only son was killed in the first months. His only grandson fell in the battles of the Somme. His substance, never fat, had shrunk to a mere shadow of its former self. The stout old heart fought the unequal fight month after month. Stables were emptied, rooms were shut up, thing after thing was sold. It remained for a defaulting solicitor to administer the coup de grace....

On the twelfth day of August, precisely at half-past two, Merry Down was to be sold by auction at The Fountain Inn, Brooch.

Berry's news took our breath away.

"D'you mean to say that this is what I fought for?" said I. "For this brute's peaceful possession of Merry Down?"

"Apparently," said my brother-in-law. "More. It's what Derry Bagot and his boy died for, if you happen to be looking at it that way."

"It'll break Sir Anthony's heart," said Daphne.

"But I don't understand," said Adele. "How—why is it allowed?"

"I must have notice," said Berry, "of that question."

"Have you ever heard," said Jonah, "of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Alien Enemies?"

Adele shook her head.

"I think you must have," said Jonah. "Some people call it the British Nation. It's been going for years."

"That's right," said I. "And its motto is 'Charity begins at Home.' There's really nothing more to be said."

"I could cry," announced Jill, in a voice that fully confirmed her statement. "It's just piteous. What would poor Derry say? Can't anything be done?"

Berry shrugged his shoulders.

"If half what I've heard is true, Merry Down is as good as gone. The fellow means to have it, and he's rich enough to buy the county itself. Short of assassination, I don't see what anybody can do. Of course, if you like, you can reproduce him in wax and then stick pins into the image. But that's very old-fashioned, and renders you liable to cremation without the option of a fine. Besides, as a magistrate, I feel it my bounden duty to——"

"I thought witchcraft and witches were out of date," said Adele.

"Not at all," said Berry. "Only last week we bound one over for discussing the housing question with a wart-hog. The animal, which, till then, had been laying steadily, became unsettled and suspicious and finally attacked an inoffensive Stilton with every circumstance of barbarity."

"How awful!" said Adele. "You do see life as a magistrate, don't you? And I suppose somebody kissed the wart-hog, and it turned into a French count? You know, it's a shame about you."

Berry looked round.

"Mocked," he said. "And at my own table. With her small mouth crammed with food, for which I shall be called upon to pay, she actually——"

"O-o-oh!" cried Adele. "It wasn't. Besides, you shouldn't have asked me."

"I can only say," said Berry, "that I am surprised and pained. From the bosom of my family I, as the head, naturally expect nothing but the foulest scurrility and derision. But when a comparative stranger, whom, with characteristic generosity, I have made free of my heart, seizes a moment which should have been devoted to the mastication of one of my peaches to vilify her host, then indeed I feel almost unsexed—I mean unmanned. Are my veins standing out like cords?"

"Only on your nose," said I. "All gnarled, that is."

"There you are," said Berry. "The slow belly reviles the sage. The——"

Scandalized cries from Daphne and Jill interrupted him.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said his wife, pushing back her chair. "And now let's all have coffee on the terrace. That is, unless you three want to stay."

Jonah, Berry and I shook our heads, and she took Adele's arm and led the way out of the room....

It was a wonderful night.

While Nature slept, Magic, sceptred with a wand, sat on her throne.

The sky was rich black velvet, pricked at a million points, from every one of which issued a cold white brilliance, just luminous enough to show its whereness, sharp and clear-cut. No slightest breath of wind ruffled the shadows of the sleeping trees. With one intent, Night and the countryside had filled the cup of silence so that it brimmed—a feat that neither cellarer can do alone. The faint sweet scent of honeysuckle stole on its errant way, 'such stuff as dreams are made on,' so that the silken fabric of the air took on a tint of daintiness so rare, fleeting, and exquisite as made your fancy riot, conjuring mirages of smooth enchantment, gardens that hung luxuriant beneath a languorous moon, the plash of water and the soft sob of flutes....

For a long moment all the world was fairy. Then, with a wild scrabble of claws upon stone, a small white shape shot from beneath my chair, took the broad steps at a bound and vanished into the darkness. The welter of barks and growls and grunts of expended energy, rising a moment later from the midst of the great lawn, suggested that a cat had retired to the convenient shelter of the mulberry tree.

The sudden eruption startled us all, and Berry dwelt with some asperity upon the danger of distracting the digestive organs while at work.

Menacingly I demanded the terrier's immediate return. Upon the third time of asking the uproar ceased, and a few seconds later Nobby came padding out of the gloom with the cheerful demeanour of the labourer who has done well and shown himself worthy of his hire. Wise in his generation, he had learned that it is a hard heart which the pleasurable, if mistaken, glow of faithful service will not disarm. Sternly I set the miscreant upon my knee. For a moment we eyed one another with mutual mistrust and understanding. Then he thrust up a wet nose and licked my face....

For a minute or two there was no noise save the occasional chink of a coffee-cup against its saucer. Then—

"Since you ask me," said Berry, "my horoscope is of peculiar interest."

"What's a horoscope?" said Jill.

"A cross between a birth certificate and a conduct sheet," said I, nodding at Berry. "His is a wonder. You can get a copy of it for three and sixpence at Scotland Yard."

"I was born," said my brother-in-law, "when Uranus was in conjunction, Saturn in opposition, and the Conservatives in power. Venus was all gibbous, the Zodiac was in its zenith, and the zenith was in Charles's Wain, commonly called The Cart. My sign was Oleaqua—The Man with the Watering Pot. When I add that a thunderstorm was raging, and that my father had bet five pounds I should be a girl, and had decided to call me 'Hosannah,' you will appreciate that it is no ordinary being who is addressing you. A singularly beautiful infant, it was at once obvious that I was born to rule. Several people said it was inevitable, among them an organ-grinder, who was ordered out of the grounds, to which during the excitement he had gained access. He didn't put it that way, but he explained at the police court that that was what he had meant."

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

"Uranus," 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 godfathers 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 passed 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 grass 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 passed 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 wristwatch. 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 Nobby 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-class 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 pass 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 pass upon the right-hand side. Three sturdy 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 passage 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 passage 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.

"Talk of the devil.... Look at the cove on the right. It's Dunkelsbaum himself."

A lightning glance showed me the truth of his words. The original of the photograph over which we had pored that morning was standing before us in all the grossness of flesh.

Almost before I had recovered from the shock, the other—a long sallow creature with a false grin and a cringing air—was at my elbow.

"You mutht eckthcuthe me," he lisped, uncovering, "but could you pothibly give uth a lift ath far ath Brooch? Thith gentleman"—he indicated Mr. Dunkelsbaum—"hath a motht important engagement there at half-patht two, and, ath you thee, we have been unfortunate. Tho, if you could thee your way to accommodating uth, we thould be greatly obliged."

Before I could reply—

"We can get there by half-past two," said Berry, speaking slowly and distinctly, "if—if we go through Ramilly."

Now, Ramilly was a great enclosure, and could be entered from the by-road down which the trolley had come. But it was not on the way to Brooch.

With the greatest difficulty I repressed a start. Then I leaned forward as if to examine the dash, but in reality to conceal my excitement....

Apparently guileless, my brother-in-law's protasis was nothing less than a deliberate direction to me to postpone Mr. Dunkelsbaum's arrival at Brooch until Merry Down was no longer in the market.

My heart began to beat violently....

Berry was speaking again.

"Wait half a minute, and we'll change over." He turned to Adele. "Will you sit in front with Boy?"

As the change was being made, Mr. Dunkelsbaum advanced.

I have seldom set eyes upon a less prepossessing man. To liken him to a vicious over-fed pug is more than charitable. Smug, purse-proud and evil, his bloated countenance was most suggestive. There was no pity about the coarse mouth, which he had twisted into a smile, two deep sneer lines cut into the unwholesome pallor of his cheeks, from under drooping lids two beady eyes shifted their keen appraising glance from me to Berry and, for a short second, to Adele. There was about him not a single redeeming feature, and for the brute's pompous carriage alone I could have kicked him heartily.

The clothes were like unto the man.

From beneath a silk-faced overcoat, which he wore unbuttoned, the rich contour of a white waistcoat thrust its outrageous way, spurning the decent shelter of a black tail-coat and making the thick striped legs look shorter than ever. A diamond pin winked in the satin tie, and a black bowler hat and patent-leather boots mercifully covered, the one his crown, and the others his short fat feet.

My gentleman raised his hat and removed a cigar from his mouth before speaking in a thick voice and with a strong foreign accent.

"My segretary 'as tol' you of my agsident, yes. I voz much oblige' vor a lif' to Brrrrooch. These gattle"—contemptuously he pointed to the waggoner and his great beasts, to whose common sagacity he owed his life—"should not allowed be on der roats, no. Ach, so. It voz all wrong."

"Quite so," said Berry. "I think they're worse than pedestrians. If I had my way, nothing but high-powered cars would be allowed on any high road. If people can't afford cars, let them keep to the lanes."

"So 'ave I say often. What vor are der baths an' lanes else? Bah!"

By now Adele had taken her seat in front, and my brother-in-law, who had descended, was ushering Mr. Dunkelsbaum into the place she had left. With a grunt the fellow made to hoist himself in, when Nobby took a flying leap from the front seat and planted himself in the intruder's path, barking furiously.

Immediately withdrawing the foot which he had set upon the carpet, Mr. Dunkelsbaum descended anyhow on to his secretary, who was not expecting him and so too late to recede. The scream of agony which the unfortunate creature emitted, no less than the convulsive way in which he clung to the wing, while standing upon one leg and protesting with a horrible leer that he was unhurt, gave the lie to his words.

His employer spoke at once and to the point.

"Den, if you 'ave no 'urt, what vor 'ave you yell in mine ear-'ole? Bah!" He turned to me. "You vill blease gondrol der 'ound."

Mastering a desire to do the man violence, I leaned out and over the back of my seat and, taking Nobby by the scruff of his neck, hauled him struggling and growling across the barrier. Adele received him tenderly and endeavoured to soothe him. But the Sealyham was mourning a lost opportunity and would not be comforted.

Bluntly commanding his creature to stay with the car and arrange for its salvage, Mr. Dunkelsbaum once more heaved himself into the Rolls and sank upon the back seat. Berry followed, and a moment later I had let in the clutch and turned up the by-road.

By the time we had reached the entrance to the enclosure it was ten minutes past two, and, as Berry got out to open and hold the gate, I saw our passenger bring out a handsome timepiece and, after a glance at the dial, replace it in some uneasiness.

"Your dime voz der same as London?" he inquired.

"Five minutes ahead," I replied maliciously.

"Ach!"

"We shall do it all right," I said airily, "Your appointment's at three, isn't it?"

Mr. Dunkelsbaum went a rich green colour, half rose from his seat, and clawed at the air before replying.

"Three?" he raved. "Three? No, no! Alf-pas' doo, man, 'alf-pas' doo! 'Oo 'as say it voz three? In a quarder of an hour ve mus' be dere. It is fital, yes."

Adele began to shake with laughter.

"Right oh," I said casually. "I dare say we can manage it." The gate was open, and I let in the clutch with a bang. With a startled grunt, Mr. Dunkelsbaum was projected violently on to the seat he had left. As I slowed up for Berry to rejoin us, "But I may have to go rather fast," I added.

"Like der devil," was the reply.

The going was good, and the road was unfrequented, so I let the car out. We tore down an avenue of firs, great rugged banks of rhododendrons sprawling on either side, scudded into a beechwood—pillars all silver-grey, set in a ruffled mass of whispering green, swam through a sea of bracken, rippling and feathery. And all the time I was racking my brain....

To the best of my recollection, we had another three miles to cover before we should emerge from Ramilly on to the King's highway. But at the very point at which we should leave the enclosure there were crossroads and, I was sure, a finger-post announcing the way to Brooch in a plain manner which there was no mistaking.

In the face of this direction, which our passenger would be certain to see, it would be impossible to take another road, and, though we should undoubtedly reach The Fountain after the appointed hour, it was quite possible that the proceedings might not be punctually conducted, and that the essential business of the sale would not have been completed before our arrival.

Of course, there was nothing to prevent us from throwing off the mask, stopping the car, and politely intimating our inability to carry Mr. Dunkelsbaum any further. But his reception of such an open declaration of war was certain to be unsuitable for Adele's eyes and ears, and the subsequent action which a man of his calibre would undoubtedly take might prove troublesome, if profitless.

Again, our eventual arrival at Brooch, however belated, would be better avoided. Berry and I were well known in the town, as was also our close friendship with Sir Anthony. Our identification, therefore, would be only a matter of time, and since, in the absence of a burst or a puncture, our progress to Brooch could only be delayed by pretended engine trouble, the suspicions which this would be sure to arouse in our passenger's mind would very soon be confirmed.

Sooner or later the fellow would gather that he had been befooled, but, provided that we preserved our incognitos, that did not matter. If we could possibly leave him uncertain whether we were as cunning as serpents or as simple as doves, so much the better.

In no sort of order all these reflections elbowed and jostled one another before my mind's eye, which was itself searching feverishly for a solution. Then we floated round a long curve, and I saw the splash.

We were at the top of a short steep hill in the midst of a dense wood of tender years. At the foot of the hill our road was overrun by a fair-sized stream, so that while there was a little foot-bridge, vehicles that were wishing to pass this way must do so by way of the ford. Beyond the water the ground rose sharply again, making the whole place a bottom or hollow, such as was commonly encountered in this part of England.

I slowed up, and we slid down the hill at a reduced speed.

With the utmost caution I put the Rolls at the splash, making no attempt to disguise my uneasiness. Mr. Dunkelsbaum would naturally conclude that I was anxious lest the water was deep. As a matter of fact, I was fearful lest the ford should prove shallow.

But luck was with us.

Very gently the great car entered the brown water, which was flowing slowly and steadily over its gravel bed. With my heart in my mouth, I watched the water rise.... It was half-way to the running-board. It was level—above.... It was lapping the spare wheel, and—we were in the deepest part. Quick as a flash I changed into top and let in the clutch with a bang. Instantly the engine stopped, and the car came to rest in mid-stream.

I took out my handkerchief and wiped my face.

There was an electric silence. Then—

"What's the matter?" said Berry.

"Flooded out," I said shortly, hoping that Mr. Dunkelsbaum was not an engineer.

As I spoke, I heard a choking sound at my shoulder. I turned sharply, and there was my gentleman in a terrible toss. His eyes were protruding, and he could hardly speak.

"To Brrrooch!" he screamed. "To Brrrooch! Ve mus' go on. I 'ave say it is fital. Sdard der gar, man, sdard der gar! What vor do you vaid?"

"I'll try," I said coolly. "But you'll have to get out. Our only chance is to make her as light as possible."

With a saintly look Berry opened the off-side door and sprang nimbly on to the foot-bridge. Then he turned to the other.

"Come along, sir."

Mr. Dunkelsbaum stared at the water as if it had been boiling oil. As he estimated the distance he was to cover, a bead of perspiration began to course down his face. It was the first of many....

Berry extended his hand.

"Come along, sir."

The fellow threw one despairing glance about him, hung out of the car till he could reach Berry's hand, and then, with a frightful grunt, goose-stepped into space....

The sight of Mr. Dunkelsbaum, still hand-in-hand with Berry, endeavouring by the latter's direction to step out of twelve inches of water on to the foot-bridge—a feat which only a contortionist could have accomplished—was diverting in the extreme. But when the unfortunate creature did by some superhuman effort get the elongated toe of his right elastic-sided boot upon the plank, and Berry found himself unable to do more than haul him half-way to safety, so that for one long hectic moment he hung writhing convulsively, frantically waving his left leg in quest of a footing and alternately calling upon Heaven and frenziedly charging his betrayer not to let go; when, as a result of muscular vibration, his left boot worked loose and fell into the water with a derisive plop; when Nobby, who had been watching the efforts of the storming party in a fever of excitement, leapt from Adele's arms on to my shoulders and thence into the flood, and, beating its raving owner by a matter of inches in a rush for the errant footgear, splashed his triumphant way to the bank and, amid a hurricane of execration, bore his waterlogged trophy into the undergrowth; then I bowed my head upon the steering-wheel and, throwing decency to the winds, ran before the tempest of Titanic laughter....

A wail of merriment from Adele and a pressure upon my left arm brought me to my senses.

Watch in hand, Mr. Dunkelsbaum was dancing upon a strip of turf by the edge of the stream, bellowing at me to start the car.

"I do nod gare vor my bood, no. But der abboinmen'.... It vill nod vaid, I say. An' it is now vive minute to begin. Ach! What vor 'ave you sid dere an' laugh? My 'eart pleeds vor you. Ten tousand devil! But vill you sdard ub der auto?"

The yell with which he delivered the last sentence changed to a howl as his bootless foot alighted heavily upon an odd pebble, and Nobby peered out of some long grass, boot in mouth, to see whether the situation was affording further opportunities. Apparently it was not, for he lay down where he was and proceeded with the dismemberment of his spoil.

Adele turned her head away and held her handkerchief to her eyes.

I set my foot upon the self-starter....

The moment the engine started, Nobby abandoned his treasure and leapt barking to the side of the car, fearful, as usual, lest he be left behind. Muttering hideously, Mr. Dunkelsbaum seized the opportunity of retrieving his boot, whose present condition was apparently even worse than he had expected, for a hurried examination of the same elicited an involuntary cry of torment, and he shook his fist at the terrier in a fit of ungovernable fury.

Slowly I brought the Rolls out of the splash, and when, as I judged, about six feet lay between the back wheels and the stream, again I stopped the engine....

For a moment I thought Mr. Dunkelsbaum would offer me violence. His mouth worked uncontrollably, and there was a suspicion of foam upon the thick lips. A sudden violent tug at the boot, which was still in his right hand awaiting replacement, mercifully diverted his attention, but the savagery with which he launched a kick at Nobby, who was once more in possession and already out of range, was terrible to witness.

"'Ell-'ound!" he screamed. "'Ell-'ound! You vould dare! I vill throw you oud of der vindow with one 'and. I vill gig der eyes from your 'ead." In the midst of the paroxysm he turned to me, wild-eyed and gesticulating. "What vor 'ave you stay still? You mus' sdard again an' again, yes. To Brrrooch! To Brrrooch!" He snatched his watch from his pocket and dabbed at its face with a shaking forefinger. "Der glogs vill berhaps be wrong. I vill give you dwendy bounds if ve shall 'ave arrive in dime!"

The rearguard of my compunction, which had been putting up a fight, vanished into thin air. The sweep had offered me money. I was prepared to twist his tall indefinitely.

"If you pushed behind," I said coldly, "we might get her going. If we do, you must get in while she's moving. I daren't stop, or we may have to begin all over again."

Mr. Dunkelsbaum eyed me suspiciously, and Berry, who had been hitherto afraid to trust his voice, took up the running with a dash.

"That's the ticket. Come on, Herr Stunkenblotch. Never mind your boot. Think of the purchase you'll get with a bare foot." He stepped behind the car. "Now, you do as I do, and, when I say 'Go,' drop your bullet head and try to shove the old 'bus into the middle of next fortnight."

With a snarl, Mr. Dunkelsbaum slunk limping to the back of the car....

A moment later—

"Go!" said my brother-in-law.

Maliciously I waited the best part of thirty seconds. Then—

"Are you ready?" I inquired, innocently enough.

The explosion which my question provoked was truly terrible.

The panting alien and Berry immediately reappeared, one upon either side of the car, the latter protesting with an injured air that he was not so young as he was, and that, if I wanted him to survive the summer, I had better keep my ears open, while, to judge from his behaviour, the reflection that his recent output of vigour had been rendered nugatory by my unreadiness was hurrying Mr. Dunkelsbaum into the valley of insanity. Purple in the face from the unwonted violence of his physical and mental exercise, streaming with perspiration and shaking with passion, the fellow stormed and raved like a demoniac, and, if Berry had not stepped in front of the bonnet and, taking him by the arm, led him again to the back of the car, I believe he would have fallen down in a fit.

"Are you ready?" I called.

A hurricane of affirmatory invective answered me.

I started the engine, changed into first and let in the clutch. As I changed into second, uprose a medley of cries and barking. I leaned out, exhorting the pedestrians by words and gestures to come aboard....

Head up, teeth bared, fists clenched and arms working, Mr. Dunkelsbaum was running like a stag. Berry was loping along just behind, apparently offering encouragement and advice, while the Sealyham was alternately running and jumping up and down in front of the frantic alien, barking as if he were possessed. Even as I looked, the inevitable happened. Nobby miscalculated his distance and landed too close to the object of his attentions, Berry gave a warning, but belated, shout, and Mr. Dunkelsbaum made a desperate effort to avoid the stumbling-block, tripped, recovered himself, crossed his legs, and with an unearthly cry fell heavily to the ground.

I changed into third speed.

As we swung round the corner at the top of the hill, I threw a glance over my shoulder.

Berry was sitting on the bank by the side of the road with his head in his hands, Mr. Dunkelsbaum had risen to his feet and was in the act of hurling himself in the direction of Nobby, and the latter, with his small tail well over his back, was circling delightedly about his victim, still barking like a fiend and ricochetting like a roulette ball.

The next moment we were out of sight, and I changed into top speed.

Adele caught at my arm.

"You're not going to leave them?"

I nodded.

"Best way out," I said. "Berry'll understand and pull out somehow. You see, we're too well known about here to take any chances. And now I think we'll slip along to The Fountain and find Sir Anthony."

"You tell me I speak good English," said Adele.

"So you do."

"Well, I don't want to spoil my record. What's the Anglo-Saxon for 'a thaw-proof nerve '?"

"Can't be done," said I. "But I can put your mouth into Italian. Bocca bella carissima. Now, isn't that nice?"

The sweet pretty lips began to tremble with laughter.

"You're incorrigible," she announced. "Fifteen long months, and you haven't changed a bit."

"Long months, Adele?"

The soft rose of her cheeks was glowing as she turned to reply.

"The longest I've ever spent," she said softly. "That—that's the worst of cutting your hair. I thought it was never going to grow."

"They've been very long ones for me, Adele."

Up went the delicate eyebrows.

"Have they?"

I nodded.

"A close scrutiny will reveal that my hair, once a rich mud colour, is now flecked with grey."

"I should attribute that to the march of Time."

I shook my head.

"The responsibility," I said, "rests with the United States of America. Seriously, I missed you terribly."

"That," said Adele, "I refuse to believe. If you had, you would have paid us a visit."

"I was not invited."

Adele shrugged her shoulders.

"Any old way," she announced, "I'm here now. And, while we're on the subject of hair, please remember that since you last saw me, I've put mine up."

"Which means?"

"That I am a dangerous woman of the world, who gives nothing and takes everything—with a grain of salt. I warn you, I've changed."

"Unquestionably," said I, "you have had a violent love-affair. That is as plain as is the dainty nose upon your charming face."

Adele regarded me with a dazzling smile.

"I forgot," she said, "that I was addressing an expert. Tell me, d'you think I shall get over it?"

"If you don't," said I, "it shan't be my fault."

"You're very good."

"Not at all," said I. "Can you spell 'homoeopathy'?"

* * * * *

For a man who had just parted with the home of his fathers, poor old Sir Anthony was in high spirits. Lock, stock and barrel, Merry Down had been sold to the highest bidder. Of that there was no manner of doubt. What was more to the point was that the purchaser, who had paid a good price, was of English blood, and had known Derry Bagot at Eton, and soldiered with him first in South Africa and afterwards in France. The place had passed into good clean hands and was to be well cared for.

"A very civil fellow," said Sir Anthony, whom we had brought back to White Ladies to tea, "and a sportsman. I'm truly thankful. Spoke so nicely of Derry—said he'd always looked up to him and he was proud to think he was to carry on his—his home." His voice faltered, and something of the old stricken look hung for an instant in the keen grey eyes. The next moment it was ousted by the flash of victory, and they were bent upon me. "So you deported the alien to Ramilly? Gad, but I'd 've liked to see the terrier bring him down."

As he spoke there was the noise of a familiar scamper, and a moment later Nobby had hurled himself across the terrace into my lap and was licking my face with an enthusiastic violence which could not have been more pronounced if he had not seen me for years.

And in his wake came Berry.

I had told Sir Anthony that, if he desired to thank any one, he must thank my brother-in-law, because, but for the latter's quick wit. Merry Down would have fallen into the enemy's hands. But, when the old baronet had clapped him upon the back, Berry nodded at me.

"I believe," he said, "I was the first to conceive the felony. That comes of being a magistrate. But that's the merchant who carried it out. Largely at my expense, I admit. But that's a matter for him and me to settle. I tell you, Sir Anthony, you must thank him—and the—er—hell-hound. A more masterly display of devilry I never witnessed." He sank into a chair. "Let refreshment be brought me."

Daphne blew him a kiss.

"One moment, old chap. Did the servants see you come in?"

Her husband nodded.

"Then there'll be some fresh tea in a moment. And now, what happened? We're simply wild to hear."

"Yes," cried Jill eagerly. "And did you really call him 'Stunkenblotch'? And what happened to his boot? And where——"

"The last thing we saw," said Adele, "was the fellow get up and go for Nobby. You were sitting by the side of the road."

"And before you begin," said I, "let me say that I wouldn't have left you, brother, if I could have thought of any other way out. But it seemed the only thing to do."

Berry put up his hand.

"Strange as it may seem," he said, "for once I don't blame you. If I hadn't been so weak with laughter I might have boarded the car, but it was then or never. I didn't expect you to wait."

"How did you get on?"

"I fear," said Berry, "that Mr. Dunkelsbaum did expect the car to be waiting at the top of the hill. What he said when he found that the road, which we could see for about five furlongs, was unoccupied, I shall try to forget. Suffice it that he perspired with great freedom, and for a long time appeared to be afflicted with an impediment in his speech. Occasionally he addressed me in Patagonian, but since the only words I could remember were schloss, ausgang and bahnhof, my replies, judging from their reception, were unsatisfactory and sometimes, I grieve to think, even irrelevant.

"Presently I suggested that we should return for his boot. For this he sought, whilst I detained Nobby. I had recommended that the latter's services should be employed in the search, but the bare suggestion provoked such a shocking outburst of profanity that I said no more. When, after exploring the undergrowth for nearly half an hour, he suddenly descried his footgear lodged in the branches of a neighbouring ash, Mr. Dunkelsbaum's behaviour gave me cause to fear for his reason. My theory that some dim-sighted fowl must have mistaken the truant for a piece of refuse met with a furious dismissal, and, from the perfectly poisonous stare with which he declined my offer of assistance to secure his quarry, I was forced to the conclusion that he associated me with its elevation. This discovery caused me much pain, but the rude man was soon to pay dearly for his foul suspicion. True, he got it down: but it seemed as if the ravages of wear and tear, to say nothing of its immersion, had heavily discounted the value of the boot as an article of wearing apparel, for, after several agonized endeavours to replace it upon his foot, Mr. Dunkelsbaum screamed, flung it down, spat upon it, and offered up what I took to be a short prayer for immediate death.

"After this horrible exhibition of temper, I felt that no useful purpose could be served by remaining within sight or earshot of the abandoned creature, so I released the terrier and made ready to depart.

"'Herr Splodgenblunk,' I said, 'I must now leave you. Should you be still anxious to arrive at Bloat, you cannot do better than——'

"He interrupted me with a terrible cry.

"'I vos neffer vant to 'ave arrive at Bloat!'

"'But you said——'

"'No! No!' he raved. 'It vos Brrrooch, I 'ave say—Brrrooch!'

"I affected the utmost surprise.

"'Oh, Brooch. Why, we came miles out of our way. Brooch is over there. Back the way we came, out of the enclosure, and the first on the right. That's the worst of a Scotch accent.'"

Berry paused for the laughter to subside. As it died down—

"That," said I, "was refined cruelty."

"I confess," said Berry, "that, compared with the paroxysm which succeeded my statement, its predecessors were pale and colourless. Indeed, but for a timely diversion, I believe the gent would have gone up in smoke.

"You see, it was like this.

"Ever since his release, Nobby had evinced a pardonable curiosity regarding Mr. Dunkelsbaum's bootless foot. Unknown to its owner, he had subjected this remarkable member to the closest scrutiny, and it was in the midst of the other's spirited study of 'A Lost Soul' that he decided to remove the objectionable cloak or covering, which it is charity to describe as a sock.

"It was, of course, unmannerly. The dog should have controlled his morbid thirst for knowledge. But there you are. Still, it was imprudent of Mr. Dunkelsbaum to kick him in the ribs. I felt that instinctively. Had the gentleman remained to argue, I should have said as much. But he didn't.

"Going extremely short upon the near fore, he rocketed down the hill, with Nobby in the immediate future, barking like a fiend and striving, so to speak, to take Time by the forelock. From the fragment of cashmere with which he presently returned, I fear that he was successful.

"And there you are. All things considered, if he's still alive, I should think he'd make Brooch about half-past eight."

"He may get a lift," said Jonah.

"Not he. Once bitten, twice shy. After all, he asked for it, didn't he? And now shall I have some tea? Or would that be greedy?"

Sir Anthony wiped his eyes.

"If he'd known you," he crowed, "as well as I do, he'd 've been more careful. Who sups with the devil should hold a long spoon."

"I don't know what you mean, sir," said Berry. "I'm a respectable——"

"Exactly," said I. "And meek. Thanks to Uranus."



CHAPTER X

HOW ADELE BROKE HER DREAM, AND VANDY PLEYDELL TOOK EXERCISE.

"What, again?" said I, staring at the breakfast-cup which Jill was offering me, that I might pass it to Daphne. "How many more cups is he going to drink? He's had three to my knowledge."

"That vessel," said Berry, "was passed to you for information and immediate action. So, as they say in the Army, close your perishin' head and get down to it."

"What you want," said I, "is a bucket. Or a private urn."

"What's the matter with a trough?" said Jonah. "That'd be more in keeping."

Berry turned to Adele.

"You see?" he said. "Two putrid minds with but a single snort. But there you are. Don't dwell on it. Pass the marmalade instead." He turned to his wife. "And what's the programme for to-day? The glass has gone up, it's already raining, 'all's right with the world.' Anybody like to play ping-pong?"

"Fool," said his wife. "As a matter of fact, I don't think it would be a bad idea if we went over to Broken Ash for tea." Berry made a grimace, and Jill and I groaned. Even Jonah looked down his nose at the suggestion. "Yes," my sister continued, "I didn't think it'd be a popular move, but I'd like Adele to see the pictures, and we haven't shown a sign of life since we left Town."

At Broken Ash lived the other branch of the Pleydell family, consisting of our Cousin Vandy and his two sisters. Between them and us there was little love lost. Of their jealousy of Berry, but for whose birth White Ladies would have passed into their hands, they made but an open secret; and, when he married my sister, who was his second cousin, and the Mansels—Cousins Jonah and Jill—had thrown in their lot with us, relations had become more strained than before. The conventions were, however, observed. Calendars were exchanged at Christmas, birthdays were recognized with a cold epistolary nod, and occasional calls were paid and invitations issued. Their possession of all but two of the family portraits was undoubted, and with nine points of the law in their favour they were well armed. It was an open question whether the tenth point, which was ours, was sufficiently doughty to lay the other nine by the heels. Years ago counsel had advised that the law was dead in our favour, but it was certain that Vandy and his sisters would resist any claim we made with great bitterness, and the settlement of a family quarrel in the public ring of the High Court was more than we could stomach.

Still, the pictures were worth seeing. There were a Holbein, a Van Dyck, three Gainsboroughs, and two from the brush of Reynolds among them, and, so soon as she had learned of their existence, Adele had evinced an eagerness to be shown the collection.

There was a moment's silence. Then—

"I'd hate to think you were going for my sake," said Adele.

"We're not, dear," said Daphne. "Even if you weren't here, we should have to go some day soon."

"Yes," said Berry. "We hate one another like poison, but we've never declared war. Consequently, diplomatic relations are still maintained, and in due season we meet and are charmingly offensive to one another. When war broke out they were very sticky about billeting a few Yeomanry chargers, and crawled and lied about their stabling till the authorities got fed up and commandeered all they'd got. Therefore, whenever we meet, I chivvy the conversation in the direction of horseflesh. In the same way, having regard to the burglary which we suffered last month, Vandy will spread himself on the subject of old silver. The moment they heard of it, they sent us a triumphant telegram of condolence."

My sister laughed.

"If you say much more," she said, "Adele will be afraid to come with us. I admit it's a duty call, pure and simple. All the same, there won't be any bloodshed."

"I'm ready for anything," said Addle thoughtfully. "Shall I wear a red or white rose?"

"Don't tell us you can control your cheeks," said I. "It's unheard of. And why are you so pensive this morning? Is it because of Ireland? Or have you trodden on your sponge?"

"I believe she's broken the soap-dish," said Berry, "and is afraid to tell us."

"Don't tease her," said Jill. "Why shouldn't she be quiet if she likes?"

But Adele was bubbling with laughter.

"The truth is," she announced, "I'm trying to remember a dream I had last night." She looked across the table to me. "You know what it is to dream something rather vivid and interesting, and then not to be able to remember what it was?"

I nodded.

"But you can't do anything," I said. "It's no good trying to remember it. Either you'll think of it, or you won't."

"Exactly," said my brother-in-law. "There's no other alternative. It's one of the laws of Nature. I well remember dreaming that I was a disused columbarium which had been converted into a brewery and was used as a greenhouse. I was full of vats and memorial tablets and creeping geraniums. Just as they were going to pull me down to make room for a cinema, Daphne woke me up to say there was a bat in the room. I replied suitably, but, before turning over to resume my slumbers, I tried to recapture my dream. My efforts were vain. It was gone for ever."

"Then how d'you know what it was about?" said Jill.

"I don't," said Berry. "What I have told you is pure surmise. And now will you pass me the toast, or shall I come and get it?"

Choking with indignation, Jill stretched out a rosy hand in the direction of the toastrack.... Suddenly the light of mischief leapt into her grey eyes, and she called Nobby. In a flash the Sealyham—never so vigilant as at meal-time—was by her side. Cheerfully she gave him the last piece of toast. Then she turned to Berry with a seraphic smile.

"I'm afraid there's none left," he said.

* * * * *

Before we had finished lunch, the rain had ceased, and by the time we were under weigh, en route for Broken Ash, the afternoon sun was turning a wet world into a sweet-smelling jewel. Diamonds dripped from her foliage, emerald plumes glistened on every bank, silver lay spilt upon her soft brown roads. No scent-bag was ever stuffed with such rare spicery. Out of the dewy soil welled up the fresh clean breath of magic spikenard, very precious.

Punctually at half-past four we swept up the avenue of poplars that led to our cousins' house.

The visit had been arranged by Daphne upon the telephone, and Vandy and his two sisters were ready and waiting....

The reunion was not cordial. Ease and Familiarity were not among the guests. But it was eminently correct. The most exacting Master of Ceremonies, the most severe authority upon Etiquette, would have been satisfied. We were extraordinarily polite. We made engaging conversation, we begged one another's pardon, we enjoyed one another's jokes. The dispensation and acceptance of hospitality did the respective forces infinite credit.

After tea we were taken to see the pictures. Vandy, as showman, naturally escorted Adele. The rest of us, decently grouped about his sisters, followed like a party of sightseers in the wake of a verger.

To do our host justice, he knew his own fathers. For what it was worth, the history of the Pleydell family lay at his fingers' ends. Men, manners and exploits—he knew them all. Indeed, years ago he had collected his knowledge and had it published in the form of a book. We had a copy somewhere.

We were half-way along the gallery, and our cousin was in full blast, when Adele, to whom he was introducing the portraits with triumphant unction, started forward with a low cry.

"That's the very man," she exclaimed, pointing at the picture of a middle-aged gentleman in a plum-coloured coat, which, I seemed to remember, was unsigned but attributed—without much confidence—to the brush of Gonzales Coques. "What an extraordinary thing! I've broken my dream."

In the twinkling of an eye Vandy's importance was snatched from him, and the prophet's mantle had fallen upon Adele. Where, but a moment before, he had been strutting in all the pride of a proprietor, she held the stage. More. Neither our discomfited host nor his sisters could divine what was toward, and the fact that their guests crowded eagerly about Adele, encouraging her to "let them have it," was more disconcerting than ever.

"It was in a garden," said Adele, "a quiet sort, of place. I think I was walking behind him. I don't know how I got there, but he didn't see me. All the same, he kept looking round, as if he was afraid he was being watched. Presently we came to a place where there was a stone pedestal standing. It wasn't exactly a pillar—it wasn't high enough. And it was too high for a seat. Well, he stared at this for a moment; then he looked around again, very cautiously, and then—it sounds idiotic, but he began to prod the turf with his stick. At first he did it just casually, here and there: but, after a little, he started prodding at regular intervals, methodically. The ground was quite soft, and his stick seemed to go in like a skewer. Suddenly he seemed to hear something or somebody, for he listened very carefully, and then walked on tiptoe to the pedestal and leaned up against it as if he were resting. The next moment somebody—some man in ordinary clothes came out of...." She hesitated. "I don't know whether it was some bushes or a wall he came out of. Some bushes, I guess. Any way, he appeared, and—don't laugh—gave him a green tomato. Then I woke up."

"And this is the man you saw?" cried Daphne, pointing.

Adele nodded.

"Dress and everything. He was wearing the same plumed hat and that identical coat, buttoned all down the front, with the pockets low down on either side. And I'll never forget his face. That's a wonderful picture. It's life-like."

"What an extraordinary thing!" said I. Then I turned to Vandy. "Has this portrait ever been reproduced?"

He did not seem to hear me.

With dropped jaw and bulging eyes, the fellow was staring at Adele, staring....

Suddenly, as with an effort, he pulled himself together.

"Was that all you saw?" he said hoarsely.

Adele pondered.

"I think so," she said slowly. "Except that there were some words carved on the pedestal. PER ... IMP ... PERIMP, ... No. That wasn't it. Something like that. Not English. I can't remember."

"Ah!"

Berry took up the running.

"You say the merchant was prodding the ground?" he said.

"That's right. It sounds silly, but——"

"Not at all," said Berry excitedly. "He was looking for something. It's as clear as daylight." He turned to the picture. "That's William Pleydell, isn't it, Vandy? Seventeenth-century bloke. The one Pepys mentions."

My cousin nodded abstractedly. With unseeing eyes he was staring out of a window. It was patent that Adele's recital had affected him strangely....

Berry laid a hand on his arm.

"Where's the book you wrote?" he said gently. "That may throw some light on it."

One of our hostesses turned, as though she would fetch the volume.

"It went to be rebound yesterday," cried Vandy in a strained, penetrating voice.

His sister stopped and stood still in her tracks. A moment later she had turned back and was murmuring a confirmation.

Jonah, who had been busy with a pencil and the back of an envelope, limped towards us from one of the windows.

"The pedestal was a sundial," he said. Vandy looked at him sharply. He turned to Adele. "PER ... IMP ... you said. Try PEREUNT ET IMPUTANTUR. Latin. 'The hours pass and are charged against us.' You'll find the phrase on five sundials out of six."

A buzz of excited applause greeted this admirable contribution.

Adele looked at the written words. "You are clever," she said. "Of course, that's it. It must be."

Vandy's reception of Jonah's discovery convinced me that it had already occurred to him. He applauded theatrically. The fellow was playing a part, feverishly. Besides, I did not believe his rotten book was being rebound. That was a lie. There was something there which he did not want us to see. Not a doubt of it. Well, we had a copy at White Ladies. No! Our copy was in Town. Hang it! What a sweep the man was!

With a horse-laugh he interrupted my reflections.

"Well, well, Miss Feste, I confess you gave me a shock. Still, if you had to meet one of our forefathers, I could have wished it had been any other than the notorious William. We enjoy his portrait, but we deplore his memory. Ha! Ha! Now, we're really proud of the next one—his cousin, James Godstow Pleydell. He it was who was responsible——"

"Forgive me," purred Daphne, "but I'm going to say we must fly. I'd no idea it was so late. People are coming to dinner, and we must go back by Brooch, because we've run out of ice."

Our host protested—not very heartily—and was overruled. Mutual regret was suitably expressed. Without more ado we descended into the hall. Here at the front door the decencies of leave-taking were observed. The host and hostesses were thanked, the parting guests sped. A moment later, we were sliding down the avenue to the lodge-gates. As we swung on to the road—

"Where's the book?" said Daphne. "That man's a liar."

"At Cholmondeley Street," said I. "But you're right about Vandy. He's trying to keep something back."

"He's so excited he doesn't know what to do," said Daphne. "That's clear."

"Well, what the deuce is it?" said Berry. "I've read the blinkin' book, but I'll swear there's nothing in it about buried treasure."

"Whatever it is," said I, "it's in that book. I'll get it to-morrow. D'you really want any ice?"

Daphne shook her head.

"But I couldn't stay there with that man another minute."

Adele lifted up her sweet voice.

"I feel very guilty," she said. "I've upset you all, I've given everything away to your cousin with both hands, and I've——"

"Nonsense, darling," said Daphne. "You did the natural thing. How could you know——"

Jonah interrupted her with a laugh.

"One thing's certain," he said. "I'll bet old Vandy's cursing the day he rushed into print."

* * * * *

Upon reflection it seemed idle for any one of us to journey to London and back merely to fetch a volume, so the next morning one of the servants was dispatched instead, armed with a note to the housekeeper at Cholmondeley Street, telling her exactly where the book would be found.

The man returned as we were finishing dinner, and The History of the Pleydell Family was brought to Berry while we sat at dessert.

Nuts and wine went by the board.

As my brother-in-law cut the string, we left our places and crowded about him....

Reference to the index bade us turn to page fifty-four.

As the leaves flicked, we waited breathlessly. Then—

"Here we are," said Berry. "'WILLIAM PLEYDELL. In 1652 Nicholas died, to be succeeded by his only child, William, of whom little is known. This is perhaps as well, for such information as is to hand, regarding his life and habits, shows him to have been addicted to no ordinarily evil ways. The lustre which his father and grandfather had added to the family name William seems to have spared no effort to tarnish. When profligacy was so fashionable, a man must have lived hard indeed to attract attention. Nevertheless, Samuel Pepys, the Diarist, refers to him more than once, each time commenting upon the vileness of his company and his offensive behaviour. Upon one occasion, we are told, at the play-house the whole audience was scandalized by a loose drunken frolic, in which Mr. William Pleydell, a gentleman of Hampshire, played a disgraceful part. What was worse, he carried his dissolute habits into the countryside, and at one time his way of living at the family seat White Ladies was so openly outrageous that the incumbent of Bilberry actually denounced the squire from the pulpit, referring to him as 'a notorious evil-liver' and 'an abandoned wretch.' If not for his good name, however, for the house and pleasure-gardens he seems to have had some respect, for it was during his tenure that the stables were rebuilt and the gardens decorated with statuary which has since disappeared. 'A sundial'"—the sensation which the word produced was profound, and Jill cried out with excitement—"'a sundial, bearing the date 1663 and the cipher W.P., still stands in the garden of the old dower-house, which passed out of the hands of the family early in the nineteenth century.'"

Berry stopped reading, and laid the book down.

"The dower-house?" cried Daphne blankly.

Her husband nodded.

"But I never knew there was one. Besides——"

"Better known to-day as 'The Lawn, Bilberry.'"

"Quite right," said Jonah. "A hundred years ago that stood inside the park."

"The Lawn?" cried Jill. "Why, that's where the fire was. Years and years ago. I remember old Nanny taking me down to see it the next day. And it's never been rebuilt."

"To my knowledge," said I, "it's had a board up, saying it's for sale, for the last fifteen years. Shall we go in for it? They can't want much. The house is gutted, the garden's a wilderness, and——"

A cry from Adele interrupted me. While we were talking, she had picked up the volume.

"Listen to this," she said. "' William Pleydell died unmarried and intestate in 1667, and was succeeded by his cousin Anthony. Except that during the former's tenure a good deal of timber was cut, White Ladies had been well cared for. The one blot upon his stewardship was the disappearance of the greater part of the family plate, which Nicholas Pleydell's will proves to have been unusually rare and valuable. There used to exist a legend, for which the author can trace no foundation, that William had brought it from London during the Great Plague and buried it, for want of a strong-room, at White Ladies. A far more probable explanation is that its graceless inheritor surreptitiously disposed of the treasure for the same reason as he committed waste, viz., to spend the proceeds upon riotous living.'"

Dumbly we stared at the reader....

The murder was out.

Berry whipped out his watch.

"Nine o'clock," he announced. "We can do nothing to-night. And that sweep Vandy's got a long lead. We haven't a moment to lose. Who are the agents for The Lawn?"

"It's on the board," said I, "and I've read it a thousand times, but I'm hanged if I can remember whether it's Miller of Brooch, or a London firm."

"Slip over there the first thing in the morning," said Jonah. "If it's Miller, so much the better. You can go straight on to Brooch. If it's a London man—well, there's always the telephone."

"I hope to heaven," said Daphne, "it's—it's still for sale."

"Vandy's got Scotch blood in him," said Berry. "He won't lay out fifteen hundred or so without looking round."

"More like three thousand," said Jonah.

"It's a lot of money to risk," said Daphne slowly.

"Yes," said Adele anxiously. "I feel that. I know it's your affair, but, if it hadn't been for my dream, this would never have happened. And supposing there's nothing in it.... I mean, it would be dreadful to think you'd thrown away all that money and gotten nothing in exchange. And they always say that dreams are contrary."

"Let's face the facts," said my brother-in-law. "Taking everything into consideration, doesn't it look like a vision, or second sight?"

We agreed vociferously. Only Adele looked ill at ease.

Berry continued.

"Very well, then. Less than a month ago all our silver was taken off us by comic burglars. Doesn't it look as if we were being offered the chance of replacing it by something better?"

Again we agreed.

"Lastly, the insurance company has paid up to the tune of four thousand pounds, which amount is now standing to the credit of my deposit account at Coutts'. I tell you, if we don't have a dart, we shall be mad."

"I agree," said I.

"So do I," cried Jill. "I'm all for it."

Only Daphne and Jonah hesitated.

I laid my hand upon the former's shoulder.

"Supposing," I said, "we take no action, but Vandy does. Supposing he strikes oil and lands the stuff under our noses.... Wouldn't you cheerfully blow the four thousand just to avoid that?"

My sister's eyes flashed, and Jonah's chin went up.

"Anything," said Daphne emphatically, "anything would be better than that."

So was the decision made.

We adjourned to the drawing-room, and for the rest of the evening discussed the matter furiously.

The suggestion that Vandy would not wait to buy, but had already got to work at The Lawn, was summarily dismissed. Our cousin was too cautious for that. He knew that the moment we had the book, we should be as wise as he, and that, since we were at loggerheads, we should certainly not sit quietly by and permit him to enrich himself to our teeth, when a word to the owners of The Lawn would compel him to disgorge any treasure he found. No, Vandy was no fool. He would walk circumspectly, and buy first and dig afterwards.

It was Jonah who raised the question of "treasure trove." In some uneasiness we sought for a book of law. Investigation, however, satisfied us that, if the plate were ever unearthed, the Crown would not interfere. Evidence that an ancestor had buried it was available, and reference to the will of Nicholas would establish its identity. Whether it belonged to us or to Vandy was another matter, but Reason suggested that Law and Equity alike would favour the party in whose land it was found.

We ordered breakfast early and the car at a quarter to nine, but, for all that, it was past midnight before we went to bed.

The next morning, for once in a way, we were up to time. Two minutes after the quarter we were all six in the car, and it was not yet nine o'clock when Jonah pulled up in the shade of a mighty oak less than a hundred paces from the tall iron gates which stood gaunt, rusty and forbidding, to mar the beauty of the quiet by-road.

So far as we could see there was no one about, but we were anxious not to attract attention, so Berry and I alighted and strolled casually forward.

The object of our visit was, of course, to learn from the board in whose hands the property had been placed for sale. But we had decided that, if it were possible, we must effect an entrance, to see whether the turf about the sundial had been disturbed. Moreover, if we could get Adele inside, it would be highly interesting to see whether she recognized the place.

Wired on to the mouldering gates, a weather-beaten board glared at us.

FREEHOLD with immediate possession TO BE SOLD This Very Desirable OLD-WORLD MANSION Standing in three acres of pleasure grounds And only requiring certain structural repairs To be made an ideal modern residence. F. R. MILLER, Estate Agent, High St., Brooch.

Considering that the house had been gutted nearly twenty years ago, and had stood as the fire had left it from then until now, the advertisement was euphemistic.

By dint of peering between the corrupted bars, it was possible to see for ourselves the desolation. A press of nettles crowded about the scorched and blackened walls, square gaping mouths, that had been windows, showed from the light within that there was no roof, while here and there charred timbers thrust their unsightly way from out of a riot of brambles, wild and disorderly. What we could see of the garden was a very wilderness. Tall rank grass flourished on every side, carriage-way and borders alike had been blotted into a springing waste, and the few sprawling shrubs which we could recognize hardly emerged from beneath the choking smother of luxuriant bindweed.

The gates were chained and padlocked. But they were not difficult to scale, and in a moment Berry and I were over and standing knee-deep in the long wet grass.

Stealthily we made our way to the back of the house....

The sundial was just visible. The grass of what had once been a trim lawn rose up about the heavy pedestal, coarse and tumultuous. But it was untouched. No foot of man or beast had trodden it—lately, at any rate.

Simultaneously we heaved sighs of relief.

Then—

"Adele'll never recognize this," said Berry. "It's hopeless. What she saw was a lawn, not a prairie." I nodded. "Still," he went on, "there used to be a door in the wall—on the east side." As he spoke, he turned and looked sharply at the haggard building. "Thought I heard something," he added.

"Did you?"

I swung on my heel, and together we stared and listened. Eyes and ears alike went unrewarded. The silence of desolation hung like a ragged pall, gruesome and deathly....

Without a word we passed to the east of the ruin. After a little we came to the door in the wall. Here was no lock, and with a little patience we drew the bolts and pulled the door open. It gave on to a little lane, which ran into the by-road at a point close to where the others were waiting.

I left Berry and hastened back to the car.

Exclamations of surprise greeted my issuing from the lane, and I could read the same unspoken query in four faces at once.

"We're first in the field so far," I said. There was a gasp of relief. "Come along. We've found a way for you."

Adele and Jill were already out of the car. Daphne and Jonah made haste to alight.

"Think we can leave her?" said Jonah, with a nod at the Rolls.

"Oh, yes. We shan't be a minute."

Hurriedly we padded back the way I had come. Berry was still at the door, and in silence we followed him to where he and I had stood looking and listening a few minutes before.

"O-o-oh!" cried Jill, in an excited whisper.

"What about it, Adele?" said Berry.

Adele looked about her, knitting her brows. Then—

"I'm afraid to say anything," she said. "It may be the place I sat. I can't say it isn't. But it's so altered. I think, if the grass was cut...."

"What did I say?" said my brother-in-law.

"But the pedestal was exactly that height. That I'll swear. And it stood on a step."

"What did the words look like?" said I.

"They were carved in block letters on the side of the cornice."

As carefully as I could, I stepped to the sundial. As I came up to it, my foot encountered a step....

The column was unusually massive, and the dial must have been two feet square. Lichened and weather-beaten, an inscription upon the cornice was yet quite easy to read.

PEREUNT ET IMPUTANTUR

And the words were carved in block lettering....

A buzz of excitement succeeded my report. Then Daphne turned quickly and looked searchingly at the house.

"I feel as if we were being watched," she said, shuddering. "Let's get back to the car."

As Jonah followed the girls into the lane—

"What about bolting the door?" said I.

Berry shook his head.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Any way, we've trodden the grass down. Besides, there's nothing to hide."

We dragged the door to and hastened after the others.

As we climbed into the car, Jonah started the engine.

"What are the orders?" he said. "Is Miller the agent? You never said."

"Yes," said I. "We'd better go straight to Brooch."

Our way lay past the main entrance of The Lawn.

As we approached this, Jonah exclaimed and set his foot on the brake.

Leaning against the wall was a bicycle, and there was a man's figure busy about the gates. He appeared to be climbing over....

As we came up alongside, he looked at us curiously. Then he went on with his work.

A moment later he slid a pair of pliers into his pocket and, wringing the board clear of its fastenings, lowered it to the ground.

We were too late.

The Lawn was no longer for sale.

* * * * *

Our chagrin may be imagined more easily than it can be described.

We returned to White Ladies in a state of profound depression, alternately cursing Vandy and upbraiding ourselves for not having sent for the book upon the evening of the day of our visit to Broken Ash.

Jonah reproached himself bitterly for giving our cousin the benefit of his detective work, although both Daphne and I were positive that Vandy had identified the pedestal from Adele's description before Jonah had volunteered the suggestion that it was a sundial.

As for Adele, she was inconsolable.

It was after lunch—a miserable meal—when we were seated upon the terrace, that Berry cleared his throat and spoke wisely and to the point.

"The milk's spilt," he said, "and that's that. So we may as well dry our eyes. With that perishing motto staring us in the face, we might have had the sense to be a bit quicker off the mark. But it's always the obvious that you never see. Vandy's beaten us by a foul, but there ain't no stewards to appeal to, so we've got to stick it. All the same, he's got some digging to do before he can draw the money, and I'm ready to lay a monkey that he does it himself. What's more, the last thing he'll want is to be disturbed. In fact, any interference with his work of excavation will undoubtedly shorten his life. Properly organized innocent interference will probably affect his reason. Our course of action is therefore clear.

"Unable to procure his beastly book—our copy cannot be found—we have forgotten the incident. It comes to our ears that he has bought The Lawn and is in possession. What more natural than that some of us should repair thither, to congratulate him upon becoming our neighbour? We shall roll up quite casually—by way of the door in the wall—and, when we find him labouring, affect the utmost surprise. Of our good nature we might even offer to help him to—er—relay the lawn or tackle the drains, or whatever he's doing. In any event we shall enact the role of the village idiot, till between the respective gadflies of suspicion—which he dare not voice—and impatience—which he dare not reveal—he will be goaded into a condition of frenzy. What about it?"

The idea was heartily approved, and we became more cheerful.

Immediate arrangements were made for the entrance to The Lawn to be watched for the next twenty-four hours by reliefs of out-door servants whom we could trust, and instructions were issued that the moment Mr. Vandy Pleydell put in an appearance, whether by day or night, we were to be informed.

At eight o'clock the next morning Berry came into my room.

"They're off," he said. "Thirty-five minutes ago Vandy and Emma and May arrived, unaccompanied, in a four-wheeled dogcart. He'd got the key of the gates, but the difficulty of getting them open single-handed appears to have been titanic. They seem to have stuck, or something. Altogether, according to James, a most distressing scene. However. Eventually they got inside and managed to shut the gates after them. In the dogcart there was a scythe and a whole armoury of tools."

I got out of bed and looked at him.

"After breakfast?" I queried.

My brother-in-law nodded.

"I think so. We'll settle the premises as we go."

* * * * *

As we were approaching The Lawn, I looked at my watch. It was just a quarter to ten.

The little door in the wall was still unbolted, and a very little expenditure of energy sufficed to admit my brother-in-law, Nobby, and myself into the garden.

So far as the Sealyham was concerned, 'the Wilderness was Paradise enow.' Tail up, he plunged into the welter of grass, leaping and wallowing and panting with surprise and delight at a playground which surpassed his wildest dreams. For a moment we watched him amusedly. Then we pushed the door to and started to saunter towards the house.

It was a glorious day, right at the end of August. Out of a flawless sky the sun blazed, broiling and merciless. There was nowhere a breath of wind, and in the sheltered garden—always a sun-trap—the heat was stifling.

As we drew near, the sound of voices, raised in bitterness, fell upon our ears, and we rounded the corner of the building to find Vandy waist-high in the grass about the sundial, shaking a sickle at his sisters, who were seated upon carriage cushions, which had been laid upon the flags, and demanding furiously "how the devil they expected him to reap with a sweeping motion when the god-forsaken lawn was full of molehills."

"Quite right," said Berry. "It can't be done."

Emma and May screamed, and Vandy jumped as if he had been shot. Then, with a snarl, he turned to face us, crouching a little, like a beast at bay. Before he could utter a word, Berry was off.

Advancing with an air of engaging frankness, which would have beguiled the most hardened cynic, he let loose upon our cousin a voluminous flood of chatter, which drowned his protests ere they were mouthed, overwhelmed his inquiries ere they were launched, and finally swept him off his feet into the whirlpool of uncertainty, fear and bewilderment before he knew where he was.

We had only just heard of his purchase, were delighted to think we were to be neighbours, had had no idea he was contemplating a move, had always said what a jolly little nook it was, never could understand why it had been in the market so long, thought we might find him here taking a look round, wanted to see him, so decided to kill two birds with one stone.... What about the jolly old book? Had it come back from the binders? We couldn't find ours, thought it must be in Town.... The girls were devilling the life out of him to look it up. Was it William or Nicholas? He thought it was William. Hadn't Vandy said it was William? What was the blinking use, any old way? And what a day I He'd got a bet with Jonah that the thermometer touched ninety-seven before noon. What did Vandy think? And what on earth was he doing with the pruning-hook? And/or ploughshare on his left front? Oh, a scythe. Of course. Wouldn't he put it down? It made him tired to look at it. And was he reclaiming the lawn? Or only looking for a tennis-ball? Of course, what he really wanted was a cutter-and-binder, a steam-roller, and a gang of convicts....

I had been prepared to support the speaker, but, after three minutes of this, I left his side and sat down on the flags.

At last Berry paused for breath, and Emma, who had hurriedly composed and been rehearsing a plausible appreciation of the state of affairs, and was fidgeting to get it off her chest, thrust her way into the gap.

Well, the truth was, they were going to take up French gardening. There was no room at Broken Ash, and, besides, they must have a walled garden. Building nowadays was such a frightful expense, and suddenly they'd thought of The Lawn. It was sheltered, just the right size, not too far away, and all they had to do was to clear the ground. And Vandy was so impatient that nothing would satisfy him but to start at once. "He'll get tired of it in a day or two," she added artlessly, "but you know what he is."

For an improvised exposition of proceedings so extraordinary, I thought her rendering extremely creditable.

So, I think, did Vandy, for he threw an approving glance in her direction, heaved a sigh of relief, and screwed up his mouth into a sickly smile.

"Took up gardening during the War," he announced. "I—we all did. Any amount of money in it. Quite surprised me. But," he added, warming to his work, "it's the same with gardening as with everything else In this world. The most valuable asset is the personal element. If you want a thing well done, do it yourself. Ha! Ha!"

My brother-in-law looked round, regarding the howling riot of waste.

"And where," he said, "shall you plant the asparagus?"

Vandy started and dropped the sickle. Then he gave a forced laugh.

"You must give us a chance," he said. "We've got a long way to go before we get to that. All this"—he waved an unbusiness-like arm, and his voice faltered—"all this has got to be cleared first."

"I suppose it has," said Berry. "Well, don't mind us. You get on with it. Short of locusts or an earthquake, it's going to be a long job. I suppose you couldn't hire a trench-mortar and shell it for a couple of months?"

Apparently Vandy was afraid to trust his voice, for, after swallowing twice, he recovered the sickle and started to hack savagely at the grass without another word.

With the utmost deliberation, Berry seated himself upon the flagstones and, taking out his case, selected a cigarette. With an equally leisurely air I produced a pipe and tobacco, and began to make ready to smoke. Our cousins regarded these preparations with an uneasiness which they ill concealed. Clearly we were not proposing to move. The silence of awkwardness and frantically working brains settled upon the company. From time to time Emma and May shifted uncomfortably. As he bent about his labour, Vandy's eyes bulged more than ever....

Nobby, whom I had forgotten, suddenly reappeared, crawling pleasedly from beneath a tangled stack of foliage, of which the core appeared to have been a rhododendron. For a moment he stared at us, as if surprised at the company we kept. Then his eyes fell upon Vandy.

Enshrined in the swaying grass, the latter's knickerbockers, which had been generously fashioned out of a material which had been boldly conceived, presented a back view which was most arresting. With his head on one side, the terrier gazed at them with such inquisitive astonishment that I had to set my teeth so as not to laugh outright. His cautious advance to investigate the phenomenon was still more ludicrous, and I was quite relieved when our cousin straightened his back and dissipated an illusion monstrously worthy of the pen of Mandeville.

But there was better to come.

As the unwitting Vandy, after a speechless glance in our direction, bent again to his work, Nobby cast an appraising eye over the area which had already received attention. Perceiving a molehill which had suffered an ugly gash—presumably from a scythe—he trotted up to explore, and, clapping his nose to the wound, snuffed long and thoughtfully. The next moment he was digging like one possessed.

Emma and May stiffened with a shock. With the tail of my eye I saw them exchange horror-stricken glances. Panic fear sat in their eyes. Their fingers moved convulsively. Then, with one consent, they began to cough....