Читать книгу Jonah and Co. - Cecil William Mercer - Страница 4

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We had slept, risen and breakfasted: we had visited Tours Cathedral: finally, we had mustered in the lounge of the hotel. It was when we had there been insulting one another for nearly an hour, that Jonah looked at his watch.

“We have now,” he said, “wasted exactly forty-nine minutes in kicking against the pricks. Short of a European war, you can’t alter the geography of France, and the laws of Mathematics take a lot of upsetting. It’s no good wishing that Bordeaux was Biarritz, or that Pau was half the distance it is from Angouleme. If you don’t want to go right through, you must stay at Bordeaux. It’s the only possible place. If you don’t want to stay at Bordeaux, you must go right through. I don’t care which we do, but I do want to see something of Poitiers, and, if we don’t get a move on, we shan’t have time.”

All the way from Boulogne France had made an excellent host. So far she had never failed to offer us a good night’s lodging, with History as a bedfellow, at the end of a respectable run. Indeed, from the point of view of they that go down to the South in cars, her famous capitals could hardly have been more conveniently disposed. This very evening, by lodging us at Angouleme, she was to repeat such hospitality for the last time. Upon the morrow we should be faced with a choice of making a dash for the villa which was awaiting our arrival at Pau, or breaking the journey asunder—but by no means in half—by sleeping at Bordeaux.

“I must confess,” said Daphne, “that, for some reason or other, Bordeaux doesn’t attract me. Incidentally, I’m getting rather tired of unpacking and packing up.”

“So far,” said her husband, “as the bestowal and disinterment of my effects are concerned, I can confirm that statement. Indeed, if we had another week on the road, you’d both be exhausted. You left my sponge and bedroom-slippers at Boulogne, my dressing-gown at Rouen, and my pyjamas at Chartres. I wish you’d tell me what you’ve left here. I’m simply dying to know.”

“No,” said Daphne. “You must wait till Angouleme. I wouldn’t spoil it for anything.”

“Jade,” said her husband. “And now, stand back, please, everybody. I want to do a little stock-taking.” With that, from every pocket he produced French notes of all denominations, in all stages of decay, and heaped them upon the table. “Now, this one,” he added, gingerly extracting a filthy and dilapidated rag, “is a particularly interesting specimen. Apparently, upon close inspection, merely a valuable security, worth, to be exact, a shade under twopence-half-penny, it is in reality a talisman. Whosoever touches it, cannot fail to contract at least two contagious diseases within the week. In view of the temperature of my coffee this morning, I’m saving it for the head-waiter.”

“When,” said I, “do you expect to go down?”

“The pure in heart,” said Berry, “are proof against its malignity. Don’t you come too near. And look at this sere and yellow leaf. Now, that represents one franc. When I think that, upon offering that to a bar-tender, I shall not only not be assaulted, but shall actually receive a large bottle of beer and be lent a two-and-sixpenny glass from which to imbibe the same, I feel the deepest reverence for the French Government. No other authority in the world could possibly put up such a bluff and get away with it.”

“They are awful,” said Jill, peering.

“They’re perfectly beastly,” said Berry, “and wholly ridiculous. However, since they’re also legal tender, I suppose I may as well try and sort them out. What I really need is some rubber gloves and a box-respirator. Hullo! Just catch that one, will you? He’s seen that dog over there.... You know, I’m not at all sure that they get enough air in my pocket. I suppose we couldn’t get a hutch for the more advanced ones. I mean, I don’t want to be cruel.”

Again Jonah looked at his watch.

“We have now,” he said, “wasted fifty-six minutes in——”

“Excuse me,” said Berry, “but isn’t this touching? Here’s affectionate Albert.” With the words, he laid a two-franc note tenderly upon my sleeve. “Now, I bet you don’t get him off without tearing him.”

Disgustedly I managed to detach Albert, who instantly adhered to my fingers.

There was a shriek of laughter.

“Stick to him,” said Berry. “I’ve lost the bet.”

The injunction was unnecessary.

After Albert had clung once to Adele’s—happily, gloved—fingers and twice to each of my hands, I trod upon him. Some of Albert was still upon my boot that evening at Angouleme.

“For the last time,” said Jonah, “I appeal to you all to let that dog-eared mountebank rake over his muck-heap, and attend to me.”

My brother-in-law addressed Adele.

“It is,” he said, “a discreditable but incontrovertible fact that saints have always been reviled. I suppose it’s jealousy.” He turned to his wife. “By the way, did you pack my aureola? I left it hanging on the towel-rail.”

“If,” said Daphne, “you’re referring to your body-belt, it’s with your bed-socks.”

“And why not between your flannel vests?” said her husband. “The grey ones we found at Margate, I mean. With the imitation bone buttons. Ah, here we are. Now, if half a franc’s no earthly, what’ll who give me for two-thirds of fifty centimes?”

Jonah sank into a chair and closed his eyes.

“Look here,” said I desperately. “Once for all, are we going to stay at Bordeaux, or are we going right through?”

“I think we’d all rather go right through,” said Jill.

“I know I would,” said her brother. “And if Boy’s leg was all right, I shouldn’t hesitate. I’ll answer for Ping. But, frankly, with Berry driving, I doubt if Pong’ll fetch up. I mean, two hundred and twenty-two miles takes some biting off.”

There was a pregnant silence. Then—

“He’ll never do it,” said Daphne.

Her husband, who was still busy with his paper, looked up defiantly. Then he took a thousand-franc note and laid it apart from its fellows upon the table.

“I will wager that shekel,” he said deliberately, “that, with a start of one hour to-morrow, Pong reaches Pau before Ping.”

There was a gasp of astonishment.

“Done,” said Jonah. “What’s more, I’ll bet you another you don’t get in before ten.”

Berry raised his eyes to heaven.

“An insult,” he said. “Never mind. Your dross shall wipe it out. I take you.”

“And I,” said I, not to be outdone, “will put another on Pong for the double.”

I felt that my honour was involved. After all, if I had not trained the mount, I was training the jockey.

“Right,” said Jonah. “Will you both pay me now, or wait till you’re out of hospital?”

“I think,” said I, “we’ll have a run for our money.”

The bets were made, and there was an end of it. But when we were again in the car, and my brother-in-law was threading his way out of Tours, I began to repent my rashness.

Considering that, when he took the wheel at Boulogne, Berry had had only three lessons in the management of a car, he had done most creditably. My brother-in-law was no fool. Moreover, on leaving Rouen, he and I had joined forces. Sitting beside him in the coupe, I had driven the car with his hands—after a little practice—with astonishing results. In two days we had, we prided ourselves, raised such collaboration from the ranks of the Mechanical to the society of the Fine Arts. My part was comparatively easy. Sinking his initiative he had more nearly converted himself into an intelligent piece of mechanism than I would have believed possible. It would, of course, be vain to suggest that Pong would not have gone faster if I had been able to drive with my own hands, or Berry had had my experience. Still, we had come very well, and with a start of a whole hour and a little luck.... Another point in our favour was that Adele, who with Nobby completed our crew, had a pronounced gift for map-reading. She had an eye to country. She seemed to be able to scent the line we ought to take. The frequent treachery of signposts she laughed to scorn. Upon the morrow her confident assistance would be invaluable....

What, when I made my bet, I had entirely forgotten, was that we were not always upon the open road. There was the rub. From Angouleme to Pau towns would have to be penetrated—among them Bordeaux itself—and in the towns our system had broken down. In a crowded street, though I could still administer, Berry could not execute. When I endeavoured to allow for his inexperience of traffic, I found it impossible accurately to gauge his capabilities. After a failure or two, it had been agreed that he should negotiate such streets as we encountered without my interference.... Of my haste to support Pong’s honour, I had forgotten the towns.

With years of practice behind us, Jonah and I could thrust through traffic, happy enough with an odd inch to spare. Naturally enough, Berry had no such confidence. An inch was of no use to him. He must have a good ell, and more also, before he would enter a gap. In the trough of a narrow street he laboured heavily.... There was no doubt about it. The towns through which we should have to pass on Wednesday would settle our chances. My money was as good as gone.

It seemed equally probable that Berry would save his stake. Barring accidents of the grosser sort, if we started betimes, we were bound to reach Pau before ten. Such a protasis robbed the bet of its savour. With a thousand francs at stake, it would be foolish not to take reasonable care. And the taking of reasonable care would all but eliminate the element of uncertainty.... There was no getting away from it. Of the two wagers, only the first was worth winning. To reach Pau before Jonah would be a veritable triumph.

Moodily I communicated my reflections to Adele.

“I thought it was rather rash at the time,” she replied. “But I think there’s a sporting chance.”

“That’s right,” said Berry. “Put your money on uncle. With enough encouragement I can do anything.”

“Permit me to encourage you to blow your horn,” said I. “That child in front of you is too young to die.” My brother-in-law obeyed. “All the same, I’m afraid we’re for it. It isn’t so much a question of pace, pure and simple, for Jonah’s a careful driver. But his street work is beautiful.”

Berry sighed.

“I suppose he’d pass between those two waggons,” he said sarcastically.

“He would,” said I.

“I don’t think you quite see where I mean,” said Berry, pointing. “I mean along that temporary passage, which would admit a small perambulator.”

As he spoke, Ping brushed past us, slipped between the two wains, and disappeared.

Berry stared after it in silence. At length—

“I withdraw,” he said. “I’m not a conjurer. If everybody stood well back I used to be able to produce an egg, broken or unbroken according to the temperature of my hands, from a handkerchief about six feet square. People were very nice about it, very nice. But an inability to introduce a quart into a pint pot has always been among my failings. Don’t say I’ve got to turn to the left here, because I can’t bear it.”

“No,” said Adele, smiling. “Straight on.”

“What—past the steam roller? How very touching! Excuse me, messieurs, but would you mind suspending your somewhat boisterous travail? My little car is frightened.... No answer. I suppose I must pass it. Or shall we turn back? You know, I didn’t really half see the cathedral!”

“Go on,” I said mercilessly. “Jam your foot on the accelerator and shut your eyes. Oh, and you might hold Nobby a minute, will you? I want to light a cigarette.”

Adele began to shake with laughter.

“With pleasure,” said Berry acidly. “And then I’ll help you on with your coat. I may say that, if you touch me with that mammal, I shall press and pull everything I can see and burst into tears. I’m all strung up, I am.”

There was not much room, and the roller was ponderously closing in, but with a protruding tongue our luckless chauffeur crept slowly past the monster in safety, and a moment later we were scudding up the Poitiers road.

Now that we were clear of the town, we set to work diligently. Adele pored over the map and the Michelin Guide; Berry turned himself into a mechanical doll; and I maintained a steady issue of orders until my throat was sore.

The weather was fair and the going was good. Her new-born stiffness beginning to wear off, Pong went better than ever. Berry excelled himself.

With every kilometre we covered my spirits rose, and when we overtook Jonah on the outskirts of Chatellerault, I could have flung up my cap.

The latter was clearly immensely surprised to see us, and when we stopped, as was our custom, at a charcuterie to buy our lunch, and Ping had followed our example, leaned out of his window and asked me pointedly whether my leg was yet stiff.

Concealing a smile, I regretted that it was.

Jonah fingered his chin.

“Of course,” he said warily, “it’s a condition precedent that you don’t drive to-morrow.”

“Of course,” I agreed.

The confession of uneasiness, however, did my heart good. It was plain that my imperturbable cousin was getting nervous.

As we moved off again—

“We must lunch soon,” said Berry. “My mouth’s watering so fast, I can’t keep up with it.”

I patted Adele’s arm.

“Now you know the way to his heart,” I said. “Straight through the stomach, and——”

“But how gross!” said Berry. “And how untrue! Naturally ascetic, but for the insistence of my physicians, I should long ago have let my hair grow and subsisted entirely on locusts and motionless lemonade. But a harsh Fate ruled otherwise. Excuse me, but I think that that there basket or ark in which the comfort is enshrined is rather near the conduit through which flows that sparkling liquid which, when vapoured, supplies our motive power. And foie gras is notoriously susceptible to the baneful influence of neighbouring perfumes. Thank you. If those bits of heaven were to taste of petrol, it would shorten my life. And now, where was I?”

I turned to Adele.

“He’s off,” said I. “The prospect of gluttony always loosens his tongue. There’s really only one way to stop him. What about lunching at the top of this hill? Or can you bear it till we’ve passed Poitiers?”

A mischievous look came into Adele’s brown eyes.

“It’s not half-past twelve yet,” she said slowly. My brother-in-law groaned. “Still ... I don’t know.... After all, we did have breakfast rather early, didn’t we?”

Berry smacked his lips.

“A sensible woman,” he said, “is above boobies.”

As he spoke, Ping swept by stormily.

There was a moment’s silence. Then—

“Hurray,” cried Adele excitedly; “we’ve got a rise!”

It was patently true. Jonah was wishful to reassure himself upon a point which an hour ago he had taken for granted. The reflection that at the moment we had not been trying to outdistance him increased our delight. All the same, his ability to out-drive us was unquestionable. But whether he could give us the start he had agreed to was another matter.

We ate a festive lunch....

An hour with Poitiers is like a sip of old wine.

The absence of the stir and bustle which fret her sister capitals is notable. So reverend and thoughtful is the old grey-muzzled town that it is hard to recognise the bristling war-dog that bestrode the toughest centuries, snarled in the face of Fate, and pulled down Time. The old soldier has got him a cassock and become a gentle-faced dominie. The sleepy music of bells calling, the pensive air of study, the odour of simple piety, the sober confidence of great possessions, are most impressive. Poitiers has beaten her swords into crosiers and her spears into tuning-forks. Never was there an old age so ripe, so mellow, so becoming. With this for evidence, you may look History in the eyes and swear that you have seen Poitiers in the prime of her full life. The dead will turn in their graves to hear you; children unborn will say you knew no better. And Poitiers will take the threefold compliment with a grave smile. She has heard it so often.

Celt, Roman, Visigoth, Moor, Englishman—all these have held Poitiers in turn. Proud of their tenure, lest History should forget, three at least of them have set up their boasts in stone. The place was, I imagine, a favourite. Kings used her, certainly. Dread Harry Plantagenet gave her a proud cathedral. Among her orchards Coeur de Lion worshipped Jehane, jousted, sang of a summer evening, and spent his happiest days. Beneath her shadow the Black Prince lighted such a candle of Chivalry as has never yet been put out. Not without honour of her own countrymen, for thirteen years the High Court of Parliament preferred her to Paris. Within her walls the sainted Joan argued her inspiration.

I have dived at random into her wallet, yet see what I have brought forth. If memories are precious, Poitiers is uncommon rich.

As if to console us for our departure, the road to Sister Angouleme was superb. Broad, straight, smooth as any floor, the great highway stretched like a strip of marquetry inlaid upon the countryside. Its invitation was irresistible....

We reached the windy town in time for a late tea.

As soon as this was over, Berry and I escaped and carried Pong off to a garage, there to be oiled and greased against the morrow’s race. Somewhat to our amusement, before we had been there ten minutes, our cousin arrived with Ping and the same object. Had the incident occurred at Poitiers, I should have been encouraged as well. It was another sign that Jonah did not despise his opponents, and his opinion was worth having. As it was, the compliment left me unmoved....

The truth was, Berry had that afternoon contracted two habits. Again and again on the way from Poitiers he had shown a marked tendency to choke his engine, and five times he had failed to mesh the gears when changing speed. Twice we had had to stop altogether and start again. He had, of course, reproached himself violently, and I had made light of the matter. But, for all the comfort I offered him, I was seriously alarmed. In a word, his sudden lapse suggested that my brother-in-law was entering that most unpleasant stage which must be traversed by all who will become chauffeurs and are taught, so to speak, to run before they can walk.

It was after we had dined, and when my wife and I were seated—myself, by virtue of my injury, upon a couch, and she upon a cushion beside me—before the comfort of a glowing log-fire, that Adele laid down the Guide and leaned her head against my knee.

“I’m glad I married you,” she said.

I looked at Nobby.

“So are we both,” said I.

“I wonder,” said Adele, “whether you are really, or whether you’re just being nice.”

“Personally, I’m just being nice. Nobby is really. Of course, he may be making the best of a bad job. As a worldly good of mine, I just endowed you with him, and that was that.”

“You were both very happy before—before I came.”

“We thought we were.”

“O-o-oh,” said Adele, twisting her head around, to see my face. “You were. You know you were.”

The gleeful accusation of the soft brown eyes was irresistible. To gain time, I swallowed. Then—

“So were you,” I said desperately.

“I know I was,” was the disconcerting reply.

“Well, then, why shouldn’t we——”

“But you said you weren’t.”

I called the Sealyham.

“Nobby,” said I, “I’m being bullied. The woman we love is turning my words against me.”

For a moment the dog looked at us. Then he sat up and begged.

“And what,” said Adele, caressing him, “does that mean?”

“He’s pleading my cause—obviously.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Adele. “I wish he could talk.”

“You’re a wicked, suspicious girl. Here are two miserable males, all pale and trembling for love of you—you’ve only got to smile to make them rich—and you set your small pink heel upon their devotion. I admit it’s a soft heel—one of the very softest——”

“——I ever remember,” flashed Adele. “How very interesting! ‘Heels I have Held,’ by Wild Oats. Were the others pink, too?”

Solemnly I regarded her.

“A little more,” said I, “and I shan’t teach her to drive.”

Adele tossed her head.

“Berry’s going to do that,” she said. “Directly we get to Pau.”

I laughed savagely.

“I’m talking of automobiles,” I said, “not golf balls.”

“I know,” said my wife. “And Berry’s going to——”

“Well, he’s not!” I shouted. “For one thing, he can’t, and, for another, it’s my right, and I won’t give it up. I’ve been looking forward to it ever since I knew you. I’ve dreamed about it. You’re miles cleverer than I am, you’re wise, you’re quick-witted, you can play, you can sing like a nightingale, you can take me on at tennis, you can ride—driving a car’s about the only thing I can teach you, and——”

Adele laid a smooth hand upon my mouth.

“Nobby and I,” she said, “are very proud of you. They’re not in the same street with their master, they know, but they’re awfully proud to be his wife and dog.”

To such preposterous generosity there was but one answer.

As I made it—

“May I teach you to drive, lady?”

A far-away look came into the soft brown eyes.

“If you don’t,” said Adele, “nobody shall.”

The day of the race dawned, clear and jubilant. By eight o’clock the sun was high in a blue heaven, new-swept by a steady breeze. Limping into the courtyard before breakfast, I rejoiced to notice that the air was appreciably warmer than any I had breathed for a month.

We had hoped to leave Angouleme at nine o’clock. Actually it was a quarter to ten before the luggage was finally strapped into place and my brother-in-law climbed into the car. With a sigh for a bad beginning, I reflected that if we could not cover the two-hundred and twenty odd miles in twelve and a quarter hours, we ought to be shot.

Jonah stood by, watch in hand.

“Are you ready?” he said.

I nodded.

“Right,” said my cousin. “I’m not sure we’ve picked the best route, but it’s too late now. No divergence allowed.”

“I agree.”

“And you don’t drive.”

“It’s out of the question.”

“Right. Like to double the bets?”

“No,” said Adele, “they wouldn’t. I won’t allow it. But I’ll bet with you. I can’t afford much, but I’ll bet you a hundred francs we’re there before you.”

“I’ll give you tens,” said my cousin. “And I start in one hour from Now!”

When I say that, upon the word being given, Pong, whose manners had been hitherto above reproach, utterly refused to start or be started, it will be seen that Fate was against us....

It took us exactly two minutes to locate the trouble—which was in the magneto—and just over two hours to put it right.

As we slid out of Angouleme, an impatient clock announced that it was mid-day.

At least the delay had done something. So far as the second wager was concerned, it had altered the whole complexion of the case. We were no longer betting upon anything approaching a certainty. Indeed, unless we could break the back of the distance before daylight failed, our chances of reaching Pau before ten were worth little. If the road to Bordeaux were as fine as that from Poitiers, and Berry could find his form, we should probably run to time. We could not afford, however, to give a minute away.

As luck would have it, the state of the road was, on the whole, rather worse than any we had used since we left Boulogne. Presumably untouched for over six years, the wear and tear to which, as one of the arteries springing from a great port, it had been subjected, had turned a sleek highway into a shadow of itself. There was no flesh; the skin was broken; the very bones were staring.

For the first half hour we told one another that we had struck a bad patch. For the second we expressed nervous hopes that the going would grow no worse. After that, Berry and I lost interest and suffered in silence. Indeed, but for Adele, I think we should have thrown up the sponge and spent the night at Bordeaux.

My lady, however, kept us both going.

She had studied our route until she knew it by heart, and was just burning to pilot us through Bordeaux and thence across Gascony.

“They’re sure to make mistakes after Bordeaux. You know what the sign-posts are like. And the road’s really tricky. But I spent two hours looking it up yesterday evening. I took you through Barbezieux all right, didn’t I?”

“Like a book, darling.”

“Well, I can do that every time. And I daresay they’ll have tire trouble. Besides, the road’s no worse for us than it is for them, and after Bordeaux it’ll probably be splendid. Of course we’ll be there before ten—we can’t help it. I want to be there before Jonah. I’ve got a hundred——”

“My dear,” I expostulated, “I don’t want to——”

“We’ve got a jolly good chance, any way. While you were getting her right, I got the lunch, and we can eat that without stopping. You can feed Berry. We’ll gain half an hour like that.”

Before such optimism I had not the face to point out that, if our opponents had any sense at all, they had lunched before leaving Angouleme.

“Here’s a nice patch,” added Adele. “Put her along, you two.”

Spurred by her enthusiasm, we bent again to the oars.

Contrary to my expectation, my brother-in-law, if unusually silent, was driving well. But the road was against him. He had not sufficient experience to be able to keep his foot steady upon the accelerator when a high speed and a rude surface conspired to dislodge it—a shortcoming which caused us all three much discomfort and lost a lot of mileage. Then, again, I dared not let him drive too close to the side of the road. Right at the edge the surface was well preserved, and I knew that Jonah’s off wheels would make good use of it. Such finesse, however, was out of Berry’s reach. We pelted along upon what remained of the crown painfully.

Seventy-three miles separate Bordeaux from Angouleme, and at the end of two hours fifty-four of them lay behind us. All things considered, this was extremely good, and when Adele suggested that we should eat our lunch, I agreed quite cheerfully.

The suggestion, however, that I should feed Berry proved impracticable.

After four endeavours to introduce one end of a petit pain into his mouth—

“Would it be asking too much,” said my brother-in-law, “if I suggested that you should suspend this assault? I don’t know what part of your face you eat with, but I usually use my mouth. I admit it’s a bit of a rosebud, but that’s no excuse for all these ‘outers.’ Yes, I know it’s a scream, but I was once told never to put foie gras upon the nose or cheeks. They say it draws the skin. Oh, and don’t let’s have any comic nonsense about the beer,” he added shortly. “Pour it straight into my breast-pocket and have done with it. Then I can suck my handkerchief.”

As he spoke, Nobby leaned forward and took the dishevelled sandwich out of my unready fingers.

“That’s right,” added Berry, with the laugh of a maniac. “Cast my portion to the dogs.” He dabbed his face with a handkerchief. “Never mind. When his hour comes, you’ll have to hold him out of the window. I’m not going to stop every time he wants to be sick.”

Eventually it was decided that, since we should have to stop for petrol, Berry must seize that opportunity to devour some food.

“Besides,” I concluded, “a rest of a quarter of an hour will do you good.”

As the words left my mouth, I noticed for the first time that my brother-in-law was tiring.

For the moment I thought I was mistaken, for upon our previous runs he had never turned a hair. Now, however, he seemed to be driving with an effort. As if to confirm my suspicions, at the very next hill he missed his change.

“I think,” I said quickly, “you ought to have your lunch right away. It’s no good getting done in for want of food.”

Berry shot me a pathetic glance.

“It isn’t that, old chap. It’s—— Hang it all, it’s my shoulder! That cursed muscular rheumatism cropped up again yesterday....”

The murder was out.

After a little he admitted that, ever since we had left Poitiers, any quick movement of his left arm had caused him intense pain.

Of course both Adele and I besought him to stop there and then and let the race go to blazes. Of this he would not hear, declaring that, so long as Jonah was behind, victory was not out of sight, and that nothing short of paralysis would induce him to jilt the jade. After a little argument, we let him have his way ...

The road continued to offer an abominable passage, and when we stopped at a garage in Bordeaux, it was five minutes to three of a beautiful afternoon.

The third bidon was discharging its contents into Pong’s tank, and Berry was sitting wearily upon the running-board, with his mouth full and a glass of beer in his hand, when, with an apologetic cough, Ping emerged from behind an approaching tram and slid past us over the cobbles with a smooth rush. The off-side window was open, and, as the car went by, Jonah waved to us.

There was no doubt about it, my cousin was out to win. It was also transparently clear that Adele and I, at any rate, had lost our money. We could not compete with an average of thirty-six miles an hour.

“Boy!”

“Yes, darling?”

“Is that the last bidon?”

“Yes. But Berry won’t have finished for at least ten minutes. Besides——”

“Couldn’t I drive for a bit, just till he’s finished his lunch?”

I stared at my wife. Then—

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t, dear, except that the streets of Bordeaux are rather rough on a beginner.”

“I’ll be very careful,” pleaded Adele, “and—and, after all, we shall be moving. And it can’t affect the bets. Nothing was said about Berry having to drive.”

I smiled ruefully.

“As far as the bets are concerned, we might as well stay here the night. We’ve got a hundred and fifty miles in front of us, and seven hours—five of them after dark—to do them in. Berry’s shoulder has put the lid on. We shan’t get in before midnight.”

“You never know,” said Adele.

Berry suspended the process of mastication to put his oar in.

“Let her drive,” he said huskily. “One thing’s certain. She can’t do any worse than I have.”

“You never know,” said Adele.

A minute later she was in the driver’s seat, and I had folded the rug and placed it behind her back.

As Berry took his seat—

“That’s right,” I said. “Now let in the clutch gently.... Well done. Change.... Good girl! Now, I shouldn’t try to pass this lorry until——”

“I think you would,” said Adele, changing into third, and darting in front of the monster.

“Good Heavens!” I cried. Then: “Look out for that tram, lady. You’d better...”

As the tram was left standing, I caught my brother-in-law by the arm.

“She can drive!” I said stupidly.

“Nonsense,” said Berry, “I’m willing her.”

“You fool!” I shouted, shaking him. “I tell you she can drive!” We flashed between two waggons. “Look at that! She’s a first-class driver, and she’s going to save your stake!”

“What’s really worrying me,” said Adele, “is how we’re to pass Jonah without him seeing us.”

There was an electric silence. Then—

“For-rard!” yelled Berry. “For-r-a-r-d! Out of the way, fat face, or we’ll take the coat off your back.” A portly Frenchman leaped into safety with a scream. “That’s the style. For-rard! Fill the fife, dear heart, fill the blinkin’ fife; there’s a cyciclist on the horizon. For-rard!”

To sound the horn would have been a work of supererogation. Maddened by our vociferous exuberance, Nobby lifted up his voice and barked like a demoniac. The ungodly hullaballoo with which we shook the dust of Bordeaux from off our tires will be remembered fearfully by all who witnessed our exit from that city.

When I had indulged my excitement, I left the terrier and Berry to finish the latter’s lunch and turned to my wife.

Sitting there, with her little hands about the wheel, she made a bewitching picture. She had thrown her fur coat open, and the breeze from the open window was playing greedily with the embroidery about her throat. Her soft hair, too, was now at the wind’s mercy, and but for a little suede hat, which would have suited Rosalind, the dark strand that lay flickering upon her cheek would have been one of many. Chin in air, eyebrows raised, lids lowered, the faintest of smiles hovering about her small red mouth, my lady leaned back with an indescribable air of easy efficiency which was most attractive. Only the parted lips at all betrayed her eagerness....

I felt very proud suddenly.

The road was vile, but Pong flew over it without a tremor. Looking upon his driver, I found it difficult to appreciate that a small silk-stockinged foot I could not see was setting and maintaining his beautiful steady pace.

As I stared at her, marvelling, the smile deepened, and a little gloved hand left the wheel and stole into mine.

I pulled the glove back and kissed the white wrist....

“And I was going to teach you,” I said humbly.

“So was I,” wailed Berry. “I’d arranged everything. I was going to be so patient.”

“I was looking forward to it so much,” I said wistfully.

“Oh, and don’t you think I was?” cried Adele. “It was so dear of you, lad. I was going to pretend——”

“It was much more dearer of me,” said Berry. “But then, I’m like that. Of course,” he added, “you ought to have driven from Boulogne. Don’t tell me why you held your peace, because I know. And I think it was just sweet of you, darling, and, but for your husband’s presence, I should kiss you by force.”

The car fled on.

There was little traffic, but thrice we came upon cows and once upon a large flock of sheep. We could only pray that Jonah had endured the same trials.

As we slid through Langon, thirty miles distant from Bordeaux, I looked at my watch. Two minutes to four. Adele noticed the movement and asked the time. When I told her, she frowned.

“Not good enough,” she said simply.

The light was beginning to fail now, and I asked if she would have the lamps lit.

She shook her head.

“Not yet, Boy.”

At last the road was presenting a better surface. As we flashed up a long incline, a glance at the speedometer showed me that we were doing fifty. As I looked again, the needle swung slowly to fifty-five....

I began to peer into the distance for Jonah’s dust.

With a low snarl we swooped into La Reole, whipped unhesitatingly to right and left, coughed at cross-streets, and then swept out of the town ere Berry had found its name in the Michelin Guide.

Again I asked my wife if she would have the headlights.

“Not yet, Boy.”

“Shall I raise the wind screen?”

“Please.”

Together Berry and I observed her wish, while with her own right hand she closed the window. The rush of the cool air was more than freshening, and I turned up her coat collar and fastened the heavy fur about her throat.

The car tore on.

Lights began to appear—one by one, stabbing the dusk with their beams, steady, conspicuous. One only, far in the distance, seemed ill-defined—a faint smudge against the twilight. Then it went out altogether.

“Jonah,” said Adele quietly.

She was right.

Within a minute we could see the smear again—more clearly. It was Ping’s tail-lamp.

I began to tremble with excitement. Beside me I could hear Berry breathing fast through his nose.

Half a dozen times we lost the light, only to pick it up again a moment later. Each time it was brighter than before. We were gaining rapidly....

We could not have been more than a furlong behind, when the sudden appearance of a cluster of bright pin-pricks immediately ahead showed that we were approaching Marmande.

Instantly Ping’s tail-light began to grow bigger. Jonah was slowing up for the town. In a moment we should be in a position to pass....

In silence Berry and I clasped one another. Somewhere between us Nobby began to pant.

As we entered Marmande, there were not thirty paces between the two cars. And my unsuspecting cousin was going dead slow. A twitch of the wheel, and we should leave him standing....

Then, without any warning, Adele slowed up and fell in behind Ping.

I could have screamed to her to go by.

Deliberately she was throwing away the chance of a lifetime.

Desperately I laid my hand on her arm.

“Adele!” I cried hoarsely. “My darling, aren’t you——”

By way of answer, she gave a little crow of rejoicing and turned sharp round to the right.

Jonah had passed straight on.

As Pong leaped forward, the scales fell from my eyes.

Adele was for the side-streets. If she could only rejoin the main road at a point ahead of Jonah, the latter would never know that we had passed him. If...

I began to hope very much that my wife knew the plan of Marmande rather better than I.

Through the dusk I could see that the street we were using ran on to a bridge. It was there, I supposed, that we should turn to the left....

To my horror, Adele thrust on to the bridge at an increased pace.

“A-aren’t you going to turn?” I stammered. “I mean, we’ll never——”

“I said the road was tricky,” said Adele, “but I hardly dared to hope they’d make such a bad mistake.” We sailed off the bridge and on to a beautiful road. “Ah, this is more like it. I don’t know where Jonah’s going, but this is the way to Pau.... And now I think it’ll be safe to have the lights on. You might look behind first to see if they’re coming. You see, if they’d seen us go by, the game would have been up. As it is...”

At half-past seven that evening we drove into Pau.

Arrived at our villa, we put the car away and hurried indoors.

It was almost eight o’clock when Ping discharged his passengers upon the front steps.

In silence and from the landing we watched them enter the hall.

When they were all inside, I released Nobby.