Jonah and Co Part 24

A week of fine days had slipped by. Most of these we had spent upon the open road. For fifty miles about Pau we had proved the countryside and found it lovely. This day we had determined to fare farther afield. Perhaps because of this decision, Trouble had peered out of the bushes before we had gone twenty miles.

Had we, however, been advised to expect a puncture and requested to select the venue, we could not have chosen a more delightful spot.

Immediately upon our right there was a garden, trim and pleasing as the farmhouse it served. Stretched in the gateway lay a large white hound, regarding us sleepily. Beyond, on the greensward, a peac.o.c.k preened himself in the hot suns.h.i.+ne. On the left, a wayside bank made a parapet, and a score of lime-trees a sweet bal.u.s.trade. A glance between these natural bal.u.s.ters turned our strip of metalling into a gallery. The car, indeed, was standing upon the edge of a brae.

Whether this fell sheer or sloped steeply could not be seen, for the first thing which the down-looking eye encountered was a vast plain, rich, sun-bathed, rolling, three hundred feet below. North, south, and east, as far as the sight could follow, was stretching Lilliput.

Meadows and poplars and the flash of streams, steadings and villages, coppices, flocks and curling roads glinted or glowed in miniature.

Close on our right two toy towers stood boldly up to grace a townlet.

Due east a long, straight baby avenue led to a midget city. Northward a tiny train stole like a snail into the haze of distance. Far to the south the mountains, blurred, snowy, ethereal, rose like a beckoning dream to point the fairy tale.

It was only when we had gloated upon the prospect for several minutes, identified the townlet as Ibus and the city as Tarbes, and, taking out powerful binoculars, subjected the panorama to a curious scrutiny, which might have shattered the illusion, but only turned Lilliput into Utopia, that we pulled ourselves together and started to consider our plight.

This was not serious. A tire was flat, certainly, but we had two spare wheels.

I drew a sou from my pocket and spun it into the air.

"I maintain," said Berry, "that the obverse will bite the dust."

The coin tinkled to a settlement, and we both stooped to read our respective fates....

A moment later, with a self-satisfied grin, I climbed back into the car, whilst Berry removed his coat with awful deliberation.

Jill was in possession of the paper, so I lighted a cigarette and turned up Tarbes in the guide-book....

"Just listen to this," said my cousin suddenly.

"_Of the four properties, the villa Irikli is the most notable. A well-known traveller once styled it 'the fairest jewel in Como's diadem.' Occupying one of the choicest situations on the famous lake, surrounded by extensive gardens, the varied beauty of which beggars description, the palace--for it is nothing less--has probably excited more envy than any dwelling in Europe...._

"Then it speaks about the house.... Wait a minute.... Here we are

"_The heavily-shaded lawns, stretching to the very edge of the lake, the magnificent cedars, the sunlit terraces, the cascades, the chestnut groves, the orange and lemon trellises, the exquisite prospects, go to the making of a veritable paradise._"

"Doesn't that sound maddening?"

"It does, indeed," I agreed. "Whose is it?"

"I don't know," said Jill absently, staring into the distance. "But I can just see it all. Fancy living there, and going out before breakfast over the lawns to bathe..."

Idly I took the paper out of her hand.

From this it appeared that the property had belonged to the Duke of Padua. Reading further, I found that the latter's whole estate had, upon his death nine months ago, become the subject of an action at law.

The deceased's legitimacy, it seemed, had been called in question.

To-day the Appeal Court of Italy was to declare the true heir....

As I laid down the sheet--

"Somebody," I said, "will drink champagne to-night."

"Oranges and lemons," murmured Jill. "Cascades...."

A vicious grunt from below and behind suggested that my brother-in-law was standing no nonsense.

I settled myself in my corner of the car, tilted my hat over my nose, and closed my eyes....

The sound of voices aroused me.

"...your silly eyes. Didn't you hear me say '_Non_'? _NONG_, man, _NONG_! You'll strip the blinkin' thread.... Look here...."

"_A-a-ah! Oui, oui, Monsieur. Je comprends, je comprends._"

"You don't listen," said Berry severely. "That's what's the matter with you. Valuable car like this, too."

Jill buried her face in my sleeve and began to shake with laughter.

"_Alors, en avant, mon brave. Mettez y votre derriere._ Oh, very hot, very hot."

"_C'est bien ca, Monsieur?_"

"Every time," said Berry. "Now the next.... _D'abord avec les doigts_.... That's enough, fathead. What's the brace done?"

"_Mais, Monsieur----_"

"_Si vous disputez,_" said Berry gravely, "_vous ne l'aurez pas seulement ou le poulet a recu la hache, mais je n'aurai pas de choix mais de vous demander de retourner a vos b-b-b-boeufs._"

"_Pardon, Monsieur._"

"Granted, Herbert, granted," was the airy reply. "But you must take off that worried look. _Ca me rappelle la maison des singes.... Oh, terrible, terrible. Et le parfum_.... My dear Herbert, _il frappe l'orchestre_.... And now, suppose we resume our improvement of the working day."

Except for the laboured breathing of Herbert, the remaining bolts were affixed in silence.

"_Bien,_" said Berry. "_Maintenant le_ jack. I trust, Herbert, that you have a supple spine. _Voici. Tournez, mon ami, tournez.... Now, non, NONG!_ You bull-nosed idiot! _A gauche!_"

"_A-a-ah! Oui, oui, Monsieur! A gauche, a gauche._"

"All right," said Berry. "I said it first. It's my brain-wave....

That's right. Now pull back--_tirez_. _Bon_. Now shove it _ici, dans la bottine_.... And must you kneel upon the wing, Herbert? Must you?

A-a-ah! Get off, you clumsy satyr!"

A yell of protest from Herbert suggested that Berry's protest had been reinforced _vi et armis_.

"_Non, non, Monsieur! Laissez-moi tranquil. Je ne fais quo ce que vous commandez...._"

"Dog," said my brother-in-law, "you lie! Never mind. Pick up that wheel instead. _Prenez la roue, Herbert_.... _C'est bien. Alors, attachez-la ici._ Yes, I know it's heavy, but _ne montrez pas la langue_. _Respirez par le nez, man_. And don't stagger like that. It makes me feel tired.... So. Now, isn't that nice? Herbert, my Son, _void la fin de votre travail_."

"_C'est tout, Monsieur?_"

"_C'est tout, mon ami_. Should you wish to remember me in your prayers, _je suis le Comte Blowfly, du Rat Mort, Clacton-on-Sea_.

Telegraphic address, Muckheap. And there's ten francs towards your next shave."

"_Oh, Monsieur, c'est trop gentil. J'ai ete heureux----_"