Berry And Co. | Page 4

and stepped down into the road.
"It means a delay when we least want it," said I ruefully.
"Worse. I've had one burst already, and I only brought one spare wheel."
I whistled.
"Then we are indeed done," said I. "I'm awfully sorry. Heaven knows how far you are from your home. This comes of helping a comparative stranger. Let it be a lesson to you."
My companion smiled.
"I don't mind for myself," she said, "but what about your car?"
I spread out my hands.
"Reason dictates that I should foot-slog it to Bloodstock and try and get the police moving; but I can't leave you here."
"You can easily, but you're not going to. I don't want to sit here for the rest of the day." She pointed to the barn. "Help me to get her in here, and then we'll push off to Bloodstock together."
A hurried reconnaissance led to the discovery of a little farmhouse, and two minutes later I was making urgent representations to the owner of the barn. To our relief the latter proved sympathetic and obliging, and before we again took to the road the two-seater was safely under lock and key.
"And now," said Miss Deriot, "how did it happen?"
"The theft? I can't imagine. We left that fool who yelled at us in charge. I suppose he left her to get a drink or something. This is only the fourth time we've had her out," I added gloomily.
"Oh, I say! Never mind. You're bound to get her again. Look at that meadow-sweet. Isn't it lovely? I wish I could paint. Can you?"
"I painted a key-cupboard once. It was hung, too. Outside the stillroom."
"Pity you didn't keep it up," said Miss Deriot. "It's a shame to waste talent like that. Isn't it just broiling? I should love a bathe now."
"I hope you don't wear stockings in the water," said I.
Miss Deriot glanced at her white ankles.
"Is that a reflection?" she demanded.
I shook my head.
"By no manner of means. But there's a place for everything, isn't there? I mean----"
We both laughed.
"That's better," said my companion. "I couldn't bear to see you so worried this beautiful morning."
"My dear," said I, "you've a nice kind heart, and I thank you."
"Don't mention it," said Miss Deriot.
From the crown of her broad-brimmed hat to the soles of her buckskin shoes she was the pink of daintiness. Health was springing in her fresh cheeks, eagerness danced in her eyes, energy leapt from her carriage. Had she been haughty, you would have labelled her "Diana," and have done with it; but her eyes were gentle, and there was a tenderness about her small mouth that must have pardoned Act?on. A plain gold wrist-watch on a black silk strap was all her jewellery.
"We'd better strike across the next field," said Miss Deriot. "There's a path that'll bring us out opposite The Thatcher. It'll save us about five minutes."
"You might have been born here," said I.
"I was," said Agatha. She nodded towards a beech wood that stood a furlong away. "The trees hide the house. But we left when I was seven, and only came back to the County five years ago. And here's our field."
The five-barred gate was padlocked. I looked at my companion.
"Shall I get over, advance ten paces, and gaze Into the middle distance? Or aren't you that sort?"
Miss Deriot flung back her head and laughed.
"I'd rather you gave me a leg up," she said.
With a hand on my shoulder and a foot in my hand she was up and over in an instant. I vaulted after her.
"You know," I said, "we ought to perform, you and I. With a painter's ladder, a slack wire, and a little practice, we should do wonders. On non-matinée days I might even lift you with my teeth. That always goes well, and no one would know you were as light as a rose-leaf."
"Seven stone three in the bathroom," said Agatha. "Without stockings. Some rose-leaf."
We were going uphill. The meadow through which we were passing sloped to an oaken fence, stoutly constructed to save the cattle from a perilous fall. For on its farther side the ground fell away sheer, so that at this point a bluff formed one high wall of the sunken road for which we were making. The Thatcher, I remembered, stood immediately opposite to the rough grass-grown steps, hewn years ago for the convenience of such passengers as we. There was a stile set in the fence, and as I swung myself over I glanced down past the edge of the bluff and into the road below.
In the little curved space that fronted the inn the Rolls was standing silent and unoccupied.
I must have exclaimed, for Agatha was over the stile In an instant, and asking me what was the matter. Then she saw, and the words died on her