Jonah and Co Part 27

After a long silence--

"Any way," said Berry gloomily, "the first thing to do 's to find out who he is. Perhaps Jill's done it."

"That," said my sister, "is the very last thing she'd think of."

We returned to where Ping and Pong were standing, to find that Jonah and Adele had disappeared, while Jill was being taught to drive the two-seater. The environs of Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges do not make a good school, but master and pupil cared not for that. Indeed, they were so engrossed in their exercise that our approach was un.o.bserved.

The two were at the top of their bent.

Flushed with excitement, laughing, chattering like old friends, lady and squire were having the time of their lives. They were, certainly, wonderfully matched. If Jill was a picture, so was the boy. His gravity was gone. The fine, frank face was fairly alight with happiness, the brown eyes dancing, the strong white teeth flashing merriment. From being good-looking, he had become most handsome. If he was to find the trick of Jill's heart, she had laid a pink finger upon the catch of his charm.

For a moment we stood marvelling....

Then Jill saw us with the tail of her eye.

"I say," she cried, twittering, "he's going to teach me to drive. He's coming to lunch to-morrow, and then we're going along the Morlaas road, because that'll be quiet."

As Adele and Jonah emerged from the gateway--

"You can't have the Morlaas road to-morrow," said Berry, "because I've got it. I'm going to practise reversing through goats. It's all arranged. Five million of the best new-laid goats are to be in line of troop columns two kilometres south of the 'L' of a 'ill by three o'clock."

Jill addressed her companion.

"We'll go another way," she said. "I don't suppose he's really going there, but, if he did.... Well, when he says he's going backwards on purpose, we always get out of the car."

The navete with which this unconsciously scathing criticism was phrased and uttered trebled its poignancy.

Berry collapsed amid a roar of laughter.

Then Jonah pulled out his watch, and we began to arrange ourselves.

That Jill might return with her brother and have her mascot too, we had to swap cars; for, as the only two mechanics, Jonah and I never travelled together. I was sorry about it, for Pong was the apple of my eye. Seldom, if ever, had we been parted before. Jonah, I fancy, felt the same about Ping.

Our new friend was going straight back. We, however, were proposing to return by Bagneres-de-Bigorre, and suggested that he should accompany us. He shook his head gravely.

"No. I--I have to get back," he said heavily. "I must." Then he bowed to Daphne and to us all. "You've been very kind to me.

Good-bye."

As he turned--

"Till to-morrow," I cried heartily. "You know where we live?"

"Oh, yes. You're Captain Pleydell."

"That's right. Oh, and--er--by the way, I don't think we know your name."

For a moment the boy hesitated. Then he turned scarlet.

"N-neither do I," he said.

It was four o'clock by the time we reached Lannemezan, so, after a little discussion, my wife and Berry and I determined to cut Bagneres-de-Bigorre out of our itinerary and return to Pau by the way by which we had come. Whether the others, who were ahead of us, had come to the same decision, we could not tell.

Berry was driving like a professional. The fact, however, that between Lannemezan and Tarbes the pleasant road was littered with more dog-carts and bullock-waggons than one would have expected any three departments of France to be able to furnish, tended to cramp his style.

The uses, moreover, to which the occupants of these vehicles subjected the way argued a belief not so much in progress as in _esprit de corps_. As often as not the carts moved three abreast, their human complements comparing excited notes, gossiping and making merry with as much disregard of their whereabouts as if they were gathered in a familiar tavern. As for the waggons, these were frequently unattended, their custodians trudging disinterestedly in rear, absorbed in good-natured argument and leaving their bullocks to place their own interpretation upon the rule of the road. Such confidence was seldom misplaced: still, for the driver of an approaching car to share it, demanded, I suppose, an experience of oxen which we did not possess.

After a few miles my brother-in-law's patience began to show signs of wear and tear, and by the time we had reached Tournay it was positively threadbare. For this Adele and I paid almost as heavily as he. But for the horn by his side, many an infuriated chauffeur would have lost his reason. It is a kind of safety-valve. Berry's employment of this convenient accessory was characterised by a savagery which, if deplorable, is not uncommon. The frequency, however, with which pa.s.sage simply had to be asked was truly terrible. Disapproval at once so bitterly and constantly expressed was most distressing. Our heads began to ache violently....

To crown our annoyance, we picked up a cast shoe--with the inevitable result. When, fortified by the knowledge that it was my turn to change the wheel, Berry ventured to point out that such an acquisition was extremely fortunate, the power of speech deserted me.

Dusk was falling as we ran into Tarbes....

"D'you think," said Adele, "that we could find a chemist? My head feels as if it was going to burst."

We sought diligently without success. After a little we stopped and asked a postman. An apothecary of sorts, it appeared, was plying his trade two side-streets away. Adele and I descended to go and visit him.

I was rather sceptical about the virtue of the drug which was eventually produced to us, but, after a little discussion, we purchased the tablets and asked for some water with which to swallow them.

I must confess that when we returned to find no sign of the car, I was extremely annoyed. It was rapidly growing dark and it had become cold.

Adele was tired and had had no tea. The market was up, with the result that the streets were swarming. I cursed my brother-in-law with pardonable acerbity.

"It's all right, old chap," said Adele, taking my arm. "He's probably just around somewhere. Let's go and look for him."

He was not around anywhere.

We struggled to the right, we fought our way to the left, we pushed and were pushed back to the _pharmacie_, and we returned laboriously to our starting-point. All the time we were devilled by the lingering idea that Berry was searching for us, and that we were just avoiding him at every turn. After another two minutes, I took my protesting wife back to the chemist's shop, requested his hospitality on her behalf, and, after seeing her received by a glowing Frenchwoman into an inner room, turned up my collar and advanced blasphemously into the street.

Almost immediately Berry stumbled into my arms.

"_The car!_" he gasped. "_A plant! Quick! Or they'll do us down!_"

I stared at him stupidly.

His coat was torn and he was streaming with sweat. Also his hat was missing, and there was a cut on his cheek.

"You're hurt," I cried.

"Right as rain," he panted. "Tell you 's we go." He started to pelt up the street. I ran by his side. "'Bout two minutes after you'd gone--fellow ran up t' the car in h.e.l.l of a state--firs' couldn' make out what matter was--talked too fast--then gathered, you'd sent him--Adele had been taken ill--lie, of course--see now--never occurred to me at time--told him get on step and guide me--burst off up street--lef' ri' lef stunt--'fore knew where I was, cul de sac--pulled up--nex' second, both doors open and toughest cove 've ever seen told me t' hop it--in bad American--round to t' left here--course I tumbled at once--dirty work--tried t' hit him--nothing doing--tried to lock car--couldn't--hauled out anyhow--no good yelling--ran find you--one ray hope--out of petrol--I never stopped engine--petered out on its own--can on step, I know--but they'll have to locate trouble--and then decant--left again here ... no ... wait." He looked from side to side anxiously. Then he swung round and glanced back. "Gad, I think we're wrong." He started back frantically. "No, that's right. I 'member that cafe." We swung round again. Arrived once more at the corner, again he hesitated, twitching his lips nervously and sobbing for want of breath. "These blasted streets," he jerked out. "I tried to memorise 'em, but---- _There they are, Boy! There they are!_"

It was true.

Turning away from us into a street on our left, about forty paces away, was our own blue coupe....

But for the fact that a cart was presenting a momentary obstruction, our quarry would have been gone. As it was, I flung myself on to the running-board as she was gathering speed....

Without a word, I thrust my arm in at the window and switched off the engine. As she slowed up I leapt for the bonnet, whipped it open and felt for the high-tension wire. At that moment the engine re-started.... For a second whoever was driving fumbled with the gears.... As the wheels meshed with a chunk, my fingers found what they sought. The next instant the car lunged forward--and the wire broke.

I fell on my back, certainly, and my hand was bleeding, but I could afford to smile. The gun was spiked.