House That Berry Built (19 page)

As we turned about, Jill began to bubble with laughter.

“I cannot think,” she said, “what Berry will say.”

“I shouldn’t try,” I said. “It won’t be fit for your ears.”

Nor was it.

In Which Berry Takes the Bit in His Teeth,

and Jonah Captures a Spring

When Berry had calmed down, I led him back to the ledge.

As he took his seat—

“And where,” he said, “does this skunkish slow-belly dwell? What vicinity does he defile?”

“Besse,” I said. “I told you. But Ulysse says he’ll be at the café from five o’clock on.”

“In the Street of the Waterfall?”

“That’s right.”

“And you advise instant action?”

“Yes. We need rough stone – not for building, but for packing behind the semicircular wall. We’ve enough for today and tomorrow, but after that we shall have to use quarried stone, which is wicked waste. That blasted ruin is built of stones from the river bed. Once it’s ours, we’ve only got to push it, to knock it down: and there’s ten loads of stone all ready to hand.”

“And he was boasting on Friday that he would sell us that dunghill for five hundred pounds?”

“That’s right. And somebody laughed and said, ‘How much shall you give your aunt?’ And he shut up like a box and looked very grim.”

The fellow’s name was Saut. He owned the scarecrow field. But he did not own the ruin. This had been built by his cousin at his cousin’s expense. Then his cousin had died and had left the ruin to his mother, Saut’s aunt. This had nothing to do with whoever might purchase the field. But it deeply concerned Saut – for the more he received for the meadow, the more his aunt would demand for the ruin itself. But if he could sell the meadow…and could then be gone from Besse before his aunt was aware of what was afoot…

All this I had learned from Ulysse. He was a famous counsellor – because he offered no counsel, but only hard facts. He gave me the straw, and left me to make the bricks. A wise, old man, who worked all day for his living, and was content. But he had no use for Saut. ‘A man,’ he said, ‘who gets drunk during the week…’

“All right,” said Berry. “I’ll fix him. I’ll teach him to handle blackmail.”

“Don’t you think,” said Daphne, “perhaps de Moulin—”

“No,” said Berry: “lawyers out of the ring. This is a personal issue. In fact, there’s a good deal at stake. If we are to live in this parish, we’ve got to have our neighbours’ respect. That meadow, put up to auction, would bring the man twenty-five pounds. And he has publicly boasted that he will force us to pay him just twenty times what it’s worth. Well, either he or we have got to go down the drain.”

“Oh, dear,” said Daphne, “I wish I hadn’t come.”

“My darling,” said her husband, “don’t worry. I’m not going to hit the brute. I’m not going to have any row. I’m going to have a drink in a café. And your brother is coming with me. But Jonah will drive you two back. Unless I’m much mistaken, we shan’t be far behind.”

Jill set a hand on his knee.

“I simply love you,” she said, “when you take the bit in your teeth.”

The café was fairly full.

As Berry called for two brandies, I shot a look round. At once I saw Saut, sitting on a bench by himself.

“Beside the pillar,” I breathed. “With a red moustache.”

Berry picked up his glass and stood his ground.

“Ah, Saut,” he said, “I thought I might find you here.”

The other rose, with a very unpleasant grin.

“Fancy that,” he said, “that Monsieur should wish to see me. Still, it is good that neighbours should know one another. And would it be indiscreet to inquire what Monsieur desires?”

An uneasy silence succeeded the fellow’s words. Such mock politeness was an insult.

“It would not,” said Berry. “I want your aunt’s address.”

You could, as they say, have heard a pin drop. Saut stood still as death and, mouth open, stared upon Berry as though he were not of this world. All his assurance was gone, as though it had never been.

Berry continued easily.

“I know that she lives at Oris, but I am not sure of the house.”

At the third attempt—

“M-monsieur desires,” stammered Saut…

“Your aunt’s address. I propose to purchase her cottage – the one you are putting in order, by the side of the road to Besse.”

The sweat was on Saut’s forehead.

“But – but I am not sure, Monsieur, that my aunt will be willing to sell.”

“Why should you be?” said Berry. “That is her affair – not yours. And so I am going to see her. That is why I want her address.”

Saut moistened his lips.

“But, Monsieur, that paltry ruin goes with the field.”

“I daresay it does,” said Berry. “I don’t happen to want the field. It’s a worthless piece of land, and I have more than enough. But the cottage walls are well built. I have only to finish the work which you have begun – or you can do it for me. I’ll pay you the same as the men who are working up at the site.”

Saut swallowed.

“My aunt,” he said, “is a very difficult woman. Monsieur would be well advised to deal with me.”

“But you don’t own the cottage.”

“If Monsieur should purchase my field, he would purchase the cottage, too.”

“I have told you,” said Berry, “I do not want the field. But the cottage will serve me well as a
conciergerie
. It is right on the road and but two minutes’ walk from my gate. Come now – your aunt’s address.”

“I do not know it,” muttered Saut. “I have heard that she has left Oris.”

Berry stared.

“But is she, then, unaware of your intention to finish and live in her house?”

“I – I have written to her,” said Saut.

“That’s better. Where did you write?”

“I – I have not yet posted the letter, because I had no address.”

“Well, I’ll tell her,” said Berry, “and that will save you a stamp. They’ll know where she is at Oris. Of course, as you say, she may not wish to sell. She may prefer you as a tenant. You don’t know what rent you’re paying?”

Saut started forward.

“Let me implore you, Monsieur – do nothing precipitate. My aunt is unconscionable. The instant she knows that Monsieur desires that ruin, she will determine to ask the eyes from his head.”

“I am perfectly prepared,” said Berry, “to pay her a very fair price. What reason have you for thinking that she will refuse an offer of fifty pounds?”

Saut clapped hands to his mouth, to smother a squeal.

“I know her, Monsieur. She is a rapacious woman. But fifty pounds for that eyesore – that undistinguished hovel! I beg that Monsieur will listen. My field is for sale.”

“I do not desire your meadow. I do not wish to be burdened with such an ill-favoured waste. To remove those briers and nettles—”

“Monsieur will see reason. The meadow contains the ruin.”

“What ruin?” said Berry.

“The ruinous cottage,” screamed Saut. “The verminous huddle of stones, on which today I have nearly broken my back.”

Berry frowned.

“Let us call it,” he said, “the
conciergerie
.”

With bolting eyes—

“As Monsieur pleases,” said Saut. “The meadow contains the
conciergerie
. If Monsieur buys the meadow, the – the
conciergerie
must go with it. That is the law.”

“But I do not want—”

“Patience, Monsieur, I pray you. Monsieur does not want the field. That is understood. But still it might come in useful. One never knows. It is always land, and one might make a depot there. So Monsieur, to gain his cottage, will purchase the field from me. It is just the same and will save a journey to Oris. I mean, I have the right. That is the law – that the building goes with the freehold.”

“Of course, but—”

“Consider, Monsieur. I am asking next to nothing. For two hundred pounds—”

“Two hundred pounds!” cried Berry. “You’re out of your mind. If I deal with your aunt, I pay fifty – and get what I want. If I deal with you, I am to pay four times as much for a ragged, worthless strip from which a goat would retire. No, no. I do not want it. I prefer to purchase only the
conciergerie
.”

Saut writhed.

“But I will sell this to Monsieur. It goes with the land. I am in the happy position—”

“Then sell it,” said Berry. “I have said I will pay fifty pounds.”

“For the – the
conciergerie
, Monsieur. But what of the field?”

“But I do not want the field. Why should I pay for something I do not want?”

“But think of the advantages, Monsieur. The
concierge
will have a fine garden, which he can till.”

“Have no fear he will trespass,” said Berry. “Give me your aunt’s address.”

“No, no,” screamed Saut. “I will not show Monsieur the way to a den of thieves. That woman will victimize Monsieur – a most disgraceful thing. At my own expense I prefer to save the family name. I will sacrifice the field as it stands for one hundred pounds.”

Berry shook his head.

“I prefer to visit Oris and pay the half of that sum.” He tossed his brandy off and gave me the glass. “Have you any message which I can give to your aunt? I shall, of course, tell her of your offer – to save the family name.”

Saut drew himself up.

“I cannot permit it, Monsieur. My conscience says no. That dirt of a woman will take advantage of Monsieur. It is painful to me to speak ill of a relative. But she is untrustworthy, Monsieur. There! I have said the word. I cannot agree that Monsieur should make her acquaintance. I have my pride. And so I shall make the following sacrifice. I will give my meadow to Monsieur for eighty pounds.”

Berry fingered his chin.

“With immediate possession?” he said.

“If Monsieur so desires.”

“So be it,” said Berry. He turned to me. “Give me some
papier timbré
. We’ll get this down.”

I produced a sheet of stamped paper, and someone produced a pen. Then and there, on one of the liquor-stained tables, we drew the Agreement up. And Berry and Saut signed it, and then Ulysse and I subscribed our names.

Then we stood drinks all round and, after a few minutes’ chatter, withdrew to the car.

As I set the key in the switch, a head came in at the window.

“Monsieur will not go to Oris.”

“No,” said Berry, grimly. “I’ll let you break the good news.”

I heard the man catch his breath.

“How soon does Monsieur think we can sign the Deed?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” said Berry, “at two o’clock.”

As the car slid out of Lally—

“Monsieur Saut,” said I, “is proposing to disappear. His aunt won’t see one penny.”

“Yes, she will. His aunt will see twenty pounds. I had a hundred in mind, so I took the precaution of beating him down to eighty. As soon as the Deed has been signed, under de Moulin’s advice we shall pay the balance to her.”

So, thanks entirely to Berry, all fell out very well. We became the owners of the last of the ‘dangerous’ fields – and that, at a fair price: we got ten loads of stone of which we were very glad: Saut, whom Besse detested, was seen no more: his aunt – I need hardly say, a highly respectable widow – travelled to Pau to present us with two most excellent ducks and, on meeting Berry, insisted on kissing his hand: best of all, as Berry had predicted, once for all the air had been cleared. So far as we were concerned, the peasants now knew where they stood and that, while we were prepared to be generous, we knew how to deal with blackmail. As for Berry’s personal stock…

“But, what a man!” breathed Joseph. “Ulysse was ravished. He would not have missed it, he said, for twenty thousand francs. To see the wicked reduced! And the one full of sound and gesture, and the other as quiet as death. But that, I have always heard, is the English way. Yours is a great country, Monsieur. I do not wonder that England leads the world.”

On Wednesday, the fourth of November, the weather broke. That night the heavens were opened, and it rained so hard the next day that we did not visit the site. On Friday, at ten in the morning, one of the brothers, Henri, telephoned to the flat. “There has been a little accident, Monsieur, up at the site.”

Instantly, I thought of the
ruisseau
which we had piped. An immense amount of water must have been coming down, and if the pipe had been choked…

“No, no; it is not the
ruisseau
: a piece of the excavation has given way.”

“Right,” I said. “We’ll be there within the hour.”

While Carson ran for the Rolls, Jonah and I got into our overalls, and Jill put on what she called her ‘service dress’. Fifty minutes later we reached the site.

It had almost stopped raining now, and patches of blue were showing between the clouds.

As I drew on my rubber boots, Joseph came up to the car.

“I am very glad to see Messieurs.”

“Is it very bad, Joseph?”

“No. It is very, very trying, but it is not a catastrophe. But let me waste no words. Its best that Miladi and Messieurs see for themselves.”

We climbed to the back of the platform as fast as we could…

Swollen by the downpour, a spring had broken behind the great wall of earth. Always the spring had been there, and often enough had been swollen, because of heavy rain: but then it could not break out of the mountainside, for fifteen feet of soil lay upon it, to hold it back: so all it could do was to thrust its way down the mountain, deep under ground. But now we had taken twelve of the fifteen feet, and the three feet left could not hold it and so it had broken out – twenty feet above where we were standing…and had done, in two or three hours, what twenty men could not have done in two or three days. Some fifteen tons of soil had broken away from the face of the excavation and had fallen over the wall that was being built.

With pick and shovel, men were already at work, loading the soil into trucks, to be taken away; and others were shoring up the face of the excavation, in case there should be more rain and another fall.

“The first thing to do,” said Jonah, “is to capture that blasted spring. Then we can school it to the gutter, and, after that, it can flow with what force it likes.”

His counsel was good, as always.

A spring is an underground river, a tiny thing: but when it breaks out above ground, it knows no law. This one had made for itself a ragged delta: the face of our excavation was running with threads of silver, each one of which was eating into the soil. Unless the spring was captured, this erosion was bound to continue until enough earth had fallen to lay bare the spring itself. And that was unthinkable.