Berry Scene (14 page)

I think that my Judge found favour wherever he went. Be that as it may, he found immediate favour with Daphne and Jill.

As the car stole up to White Ladies, the two appeared.

Sir William Granite – Mrs Pleydell, Miss Mansel.”

“Please excuse my husband, Sir William. He’s sitting on the Riding Hood Bench.”

The Judge smiled.

“My learned brother is excused.”

As they passed into the house, I put the Judge’s servant in Falcon’s charge.

Five minutes later—

“I expect you’ll like my brother to show you your rooms. Please do as you like while you’re here. I mean, tea will be served on the lawn in half an hour: but if you would like some upstairs – well, the servants have orders to do as your servant asks.”

“My dear,” said the Judge. “I am here to enjoy myself. I shall therefore appear on the lawn at a quarter to five.”

In fact he was there before then, for when I came down in flannels, Jill and he were examining the yew peacocks and discussing topiary work.

Jonah joined us at tea.

As I introduced him—

“I remember your father,” said the Judge. “He dined with me at White’s and I dined with him ‘on guard’.”

“Which reminds me,” said Daphne, “I’ve asked some people to dinner tomorrow night. Colonel Lake and his wife – he’s our Chief Constable: Lady Touchstone from Bell Hammer: Sir Anthony Bagot of Merry Down and his son and daughter-in-law. Except for that explosion, we shall be very quiet.”

“I like being quiet,” said the Judge. “But I shall be very happy to meet your friends. And I trust you to do as you would, if I was not here. I have the reputation of being an easy guest.”

“We will, if you’ll do as you please.”

“I shall, indeed, Mrs Pleydell. Did I hear there was cricket on Saturday?”

“That’s right. The match of the season. Bilberry
v
. Cleric. All three of the men are playing, if you won’t think that rude.”

“Will you think the fourth rude,” said the Judge, “if he attends the match?”

“Oh, I hoped he’d say that,” said Jill.

Then Jonah and I played tennis, and the girls carried off Sir William, to show him over the house.

Before the day was out, the Judge had referred to what was in everyone’s mind. When Daphne and Jill had left the dining-room he passed the port and then sat back in his chair.

With his eyes on Jonah—

“I think,” he said, “you have just left Germany.”

“That’s right, sir. A week ago.”

“Does that country mean to make war?”

“That’s my belief, sir,” said Jonah. “I never saw the tide of arrogance running so high: and it’s still coming in.”

“No signs of anxiety?”

“None, sir, so far as I saw. The Army is intensely excited.”

The Judge pursed his lips.

“France, they despise,” said Berry. “But they’ve hated us for years, because they know that we are better than they. Not more powerful – just better. We’re better bred: we deliver better goods: we behave. And now they feel they’ve a chance of curing that inferiority complex.”

“By, er, eliminating their superiors?”

“Yes, sir. The Kaiser dreams of strutting at Windsor: the Army of swaggering down St James’s Street: the politician of annexation: the merchant of markets in which his goods are the best: and the man in the street of treating the British like dirt.”

“Are they all insane?” said the Judge.

“Not all,” said Jonah. “But those that are not believe war to be inevitable and hope, with confidence, for the best.”

“With confidence?”

“Yes, sir. Many think it will be a walk-over. That their armies can be beaten, no one believes.”

The Judge raised his eyebrows.

“If war is at hand,” be said, “a very handsome era is about to come to an end. Much that we take for granted will go by the board. Security – by which I mean freedom from care – will disappear. The old order will change.” He sighed. “The fabric of our civilization is not homespun today. It is easier to rend and very difficult to patch. When it is patched with new stuff, the old will give way.”

Berry looked up and round.

“Will this survive, sir?”

“With you behind it – yes. But only devotion will preserve such a period piece.”

“Let’s hope I’m wrong, sir,” said Jonah.

“By all means. But just in case you’re right, let us enjoy to the full the days that are left. Soon they may be ‘the old days’.” He turned to Berry. “I’m sure you did justice today. Have you got a good clerk?”

Berry looked down his nose.

“We haven’t been taken to the Divisional Court lately, sir.”

The Judge laughed.

“Then you have a good clerk,” he said. “But I hope you don’t let him run you.”

“Oh, no. He knows his place. But he has a difficult time. We have one obstreperous Justice, whose private solicitor he is. There are occasions upon which duty and business, so to speak, seethe together. The process is painful to watch, but most engaging.”

“I remember a case,” said the Judge…

A quarter of an hour went by, before we put out the candles and left the room.

His lordship lived up to his Epicurean creed.

The following day, Jill and he were abroad before I was up. From their report at breakfast, they seemed to have walked five miles. After breakfast he proved the gardens – and disappeared. I found him at last in the harness-room, discussing with Peters the virtue of various bits. Seeing the gig turned out, he asked my permission to mount and to take the reins. Then he picked my sister up and drove her into the village and over to Ightham’s farm. After lunch, while we played tennis, he did the duty of umpire, until we stopped for tea; then he strolled off, to call on the Vicar and visit the little church.

Dinner that night was festive.

On Berry’s right, Lady Touchstone, in black and silver, sparkled with wit: she, Derry Bagot and Berry were better than any play: on Berry’s left, Mrs Lake and Jonah were laughing helplessly. Jane Bagot, in white and cherry, was pulling the Colonel’s leg. My sister, looking peerless in gold, was sitting back, smiling, between the Judge and Sir Anthony, laughing together over some elegant jest. And Jill, beside me, something resembling a seraph in powder blue, was making me free of her pleasure in the comfortable scene.

“Those are the Bagot sapphires that Jane’s got on. Isn’t that necklace lovely? Of course, she’s a perfect skin. I love the Judge, when he puts his eyeglass up. And Lady Touchstone’s earrings – look at them, Boy darling. They’re so white, they seem to be blue. But Daphne has it – as always. She looks like some beautiful painting; and the emeralds go with that dress. But anything would look lovely upon her arms. I’m sure the bracelets have never looked so fine. What queen were they made for, Boy? I always forget.”

Before I could answer, the Judge was lifting his glass. He was looking at Lady Touchstone.

“A glass of wine with you, madam.”

Lady Touchstone threw up her head.

“That’s the second time. Shame on you, Judge. I may be disorderly, but I refuse to be drunk. And when I’m before you at Brooch, it’ll be ‘I’m surprised to see a woman of your advanced years…’”

“That’s all right,” said Berry. “You’ll come before me. And I can tell you now it’ll be half a crown or seven days. Of course, if you cling to the railings, it’ll be three and six.”

“Boy shall defend you,” said the Colonel. “If you don’t go into the box—”

“You’ll all be in it,” said Lady Touchstone. “I’ll see to that. What a
cause célèbre
it will be! How d’you sub-poena a Judge? And now is everyone satisfied that I am not a nice woman? For ladies of my age, to be styled ‘a nice woman’ is the end.”

“I’m with you,” said Berry. “‘Because thou art
thirtyish
, shall there be no more cakes and ale?’”

Lady Touchstone looked at Daphne.

“My dear,” she said, “I don’t wonder you married him.”

At last the cloth was drawn, and ten minutes later my sister caught Lady Touchstone’s eye. But not until coffee had been served and the servants had gone did colonel Lake mention Y – the blind man who could see.

“This accident to X,” he said slowly, “is a catastrophe. In view of the way things are going, Y would have been a great prize. If there’s to be a war, we can pull in the petty traitors in twenty-four hours. We know quite ninety per cent. But this is a different case. X, now in hospital, is a German Naval officer. He’s been a barber at Portsmouth for nearly nine months. That twenty pounds was for him to spend upon drinks. And Y, to whom he was reporting, is a much bigger man. Worse. He’s a man of position – we have no doubt about that. And during a war he could be most dangerous.”

There was a little silence.

Then—

“Is he, too, German?” said the Judge.

“I think he must be,” said Lake. “The German he writes is flawless. But he may have been naturalized.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We’ve let so many in – let so many establish themselves, that now it’s like looking for a needle in a bottle of hay.”

I put in my oar.

“Y asked to receive the information by Sunday next. When ‘Method Q’ is not used, will he try the letter-box?”

The Chief Constable shook his head.

“I can’t believe that he will. He’ll know that something is wrong. We shall watch the box at the foot-bridge, just in case: but spies don’t make mistakes: and, when a spy is late, his fellows know what it means. Oh, no. I’m afraid we’ve lost him – unless he walks into your arms.”

The Judge was speaking again.

“Is there any district, Colonel, which you suspect? I mean, if my marshal can help you, I’ll give him leave.”

“No thank you, Judge. If there was, we’d have asked for him. But we have no idea. Y may reside in this county, or he may not. Cars have made movement so easy, and distance has lost its sting.”

“What is Y like?” said Jonah.

I groaned.

“I was waiting for that,” said I. “I won’t say he was too far off: but I only have an impression of what his true face was like.”

“Shut your eyes,” said my cousin, “and picture Minever Lane.” I did as he said. “Now you’ve just seen the man – some forty yards off: and because of the way in which he is using his stick, you realize that he’s blind. So you lift your foot and watch him. Now – at thirty yards – you see him alter his face. Alter his face –
from what
?”

“Square and – Wait a minute.” I struck my fist into my palm. “By God, I’ve got it! I’ve been trying so hard to remember, and now it’s come back.
The fellow’s got no eyebrows
. I couldn’t see that then, but I noticed that, as he was approaching the car. Now then. Square and grim…no eyebrows…faintly suggestive of a skull. I really believe, if I saw him, I’d know the swine.”

“Of course you will,” said Berry. “I’d almost know him myself.”

“He will, if he sees him,” said the Judge.

“I agree,” said Lake. “If he sees him. But what a hope!”

“Are you sure,” said the Judge, “that you wouldn’t like him released?”

The Chief Constable hesitated.

Then—

“May I let you know on Sunday?” he said. “By then I shall have seen the Assistant Commissioner again. I’m going to Town tomorrow and returning on Sunday night. May I leave a note at the Lodging?”

“By all means,” said the Judge. “He must swear the Grand Jury on Monday. After that, if you want him, he’s yours. I’ll wire for a nephew of mine, to take his place.”

To swear a Grand Jury, as a Grand Jury should be sworn, was a trick which could not be mastered overnight. It was the Judge’s Marshal’s duty to learn and administer the oaths. The oath which the Foreman took was one hundred and twenty-six words long: that of his fellows was shorter; but, since a Grand Jury consisted of twenty-three men, the Marshal administered this no less than twenty-two times. Then, again, the Bench was always some distance from the Grand Jury’s Box, so the Marshal had to speak out, in a clear, loud voice. Finally, no Judge who set store by his dignity, would take to himself a Marshal that could not do this duty and do it well.

“Very good, sir,” said Colonel Lake. “A note shall be at the Lodging on Sunday night.”

Five minutes later, we rose and made for the gallery. As we were climbing the stairs, the lilt of a famous valse came floating down to our ears.

“Dancing, Sir William,” said Berry. “As soon as you’re bored, there’s a fire in the library.”

“I shan’t be bored,” said the Judge. “Dancing does not become age; but records have to be changed and, if you’ll teach me to do it, I shan’t feel out of things.”

We had, all of us, learned to dance in the L-shaped gallery – I remember Berry in Etons dancing with Daphne, aged eight – and, perhaps for this reason, that fine, familiar chamber has always been for me the home of such exercise. It has three oriels – one at the corner of the L, and there, when we were dancing, the gramophone stood. I sometimes think that it looked its best at night, with the crimson curtains drawn and the chandeliers ablaze and the gilded frames of the pictures glowing against the oak. And more than the frames. The rare old pigments kindled to the touch of the hanging lights, absorbing the gold and rendering jewels, instead.

Although I say it, a picture was added that night: Jill and I hung on our heels, to savour the scene. Sir Anthony, staunch Etonian, had put on
The Boating Song
, and, though we were but five couples, the room seemed full of the rhythm of gracious movement, of colour whirling and gliding down all its length – blue and cherry and gold and emerald green, of the exquisite flash of gems and the glancing white of stiff shirts, of the elegant turn and twinkle of shining feet, and of Daphne’s clear soprano, singing the time-honoured words.

The Judge’s voice breathed in my ear.

“Complete the picture, I beg you. I see the Queen of Hearts, but I miss the Fairy Princess.”

I was glad to do as he said.

It was after midnight, when we left for the library.

Lady Touchstone inspected her wrist.

“I’m pretending my watch is misleading. All the same, another ten minutes, and I must go. I’m sure I don’t have to say I’ve enjoyed myself. The fact must stand out.”