Berry And Co. | Page 6

I.
"If it wasn't for the collar, it would be," said Agatha. "Never mind. Bare
backs are still fashionable. And what's a torn coat, when you've got the
car again?"
"You're right," I agreed. "You'd hardly believe it," I added, "but I can
tell from the feel of her that some stranger's been driving."
"I can believe it. After all, a car's just like a horse."
As she spoke, we sped into the market square of Bloodstock. The
police station stood in Love Lane, a couple of streets away.
Here a disappointment was in store. The sole representative of the Law
was a station sergeant in his shirt-sleeves and a state of profuse
perspiration. Between his lips was a penholder, and he held a telephone
receiver to his left ear. In an adjoining room the bell of another
telephone was ringing violently in long regular spasms, while,
somewhere quite close, a dog was giving ceaseless vent to those short
sharp barks which denote impatience of detention.
A sudden elevation of the sergeant's eyebrows invited me to state my
business, but before I had spoken two sentences he shifted the
penholder from his mouth and shook his head.
"'Fraid I can't 'elp you at the moment, sir. That's the third car what's
been stole in this distric' this mornin'. There's a 'ole gang of 'em about.
Every one excep' me's out after 'em now. 'Eaven knows when they'll
come in. An' there's that other telephone goin' like mad, an' the Chief
Constable's lef' his bull-dawg tied up there, an' 'e won't let me within

six foot of it." He turned to blare into the mouthpiece. "'Ullo! 'Oo are
you? 'Oo are you? Wot! Oh, I can't bear it. 'Ere, for 'Eaven's sake, 'old
the line." He set down the receiver, shook the sweat out of his eyes, and
sank on to a stool. "Another blinkin' car gone," he said hoarsely. "I
dunno wot's the matter with the world. I wish I was back in France."
* * * * *
Love Lane was a narrow street, so I did not attempt to turn the car, but
drove on and presently out of the town by back streets on to the
Bilberry road.
It would have been better if I had telephoned to White Ladies before
leaving Bloodstock, to announce my recovery of the car; but I was
expecting to be back there so soon that it seemed unnecessary.
Indeed, it was only when we were once more under way that I thought
of the colt and the embrocation, to say nothing of my lady's two-seater,
now standing helpless in the gloom of the wayside barn.
"I tell you what," said I. "We'll drive to the barn and pick up the lotion,
and then I'll take you home. Then I can run your chauffeur back to the
barn with a spare cover, drop him there, and push off to White Ladies."
"I can improve on that," said Agatha, with a glance at her wrist. "It'll be
past one by the time we get home, so you must stay to lunch. You can
telephone to White Ladies from there. And afterwards I'll go back with
you--I was to come over this afternoon, wasn't I?--and we can drop the
chauffeur at the barn on the way. And he can come for me in the
evening."
Agatha was living at Broadacre, a fine old place on the edge of the
forest itself, and thither we came without incident, just as an
old-fashioned gong was summoning the household to meat.
Admiral and Mrs. Deriot were kindness itself. First I was given a long,
cold, grateful drink. Then the old sailor led me to his own chamber and
ministered personally to my wants. My coat was given to a maid to be

roughly stitched, and when I appeared at luncheon it was in a jacket
belonging to my host. Our story was told and retold, the lawlessness of
the year of Grace 1919 was bewailed, and a violent denunciation of
motor-thieves was succeeded by a bitter proscription of the County
Police.
In the midst of my entertainment I remembered that I had not
telephoned to White Ladies, but the servant sent to make the
connection was informed by the Exchange that the line was out of
order.
"I expect it's fused," said I. "With Berry at one end and that station
sergeant at the other, the strain must have been fearful."
* * * * *
It was half-past two before we were once more in the car. On the back
seat sat the Deriots' chauffeur, holding a spare wheel between his
knees.
It did not take us long to reach the barn, and, so soon as we had once
more unearthed the farmer, authorized him to suffer the