Jonah and Co Part 45

"Ugh!" he said shuddering. "I've gone all goosegogs--I mean, gooseflesh. Will she be at the Casino to-night?"

My wife set a hand upon my arm.

"I must admit," she said, smiling, "that she had a mouth in a million."

By half-past ten the next morning we were again upon the road.

The almanack swore it was March, but here was a summer's day. Not a cloud was floating in the great blue sky: down to the tenderest breeze, the winds were sleeping: the sun was in all his glory. For earth herself, the stains of winter were being done away. Out of the country's coat the greys and browns, lately so prominent, were fading notably. As thick as fast, the green was coming in. As we rounded a bend and sailed down a long sweet hill towards the frontier, the road was all dappled with the shadows of youngster leaves.

Our way seemed popular. Car after car swept by, waggons and lorries went rumbling about their business, now and again two of the Guardia Civil--well-horsed, conspicuously armed and point-device in their accoutrements--sat stiff, silent, and vigilant in the mouth of an odd by-road.

Come to the skirts of Irun, we switched to the left, and five minutes later we were at Fuenterrabia.

A city with a main street some four yards wide, keeping a king's palace, if hatchments be evidence, remembering more dukes than shopkeepers, its house-walls upholding a haphazard host of balconies and overhung with monstrous eaves--a pocket stronghold, set on the lip of Spain, staring at sea and land, each sunlit rood of which is fat with History--a lovely star upon the breast of Fame, chosen by English poets to enrich their songs, Fuenterrabia is among the crown jewels of Europe.

We thrust up the Calle Mayor and into the Plaza de Armas. There we put the cars in the shade and alighted eagerly to view the town at close quarters.

"Look at that little boy," cried Jill, "eating an apple. Where's the camera? Get him to stand in the sun, Boy, against that old wall."

"That's right," said Berry. "And there's a dog scratching himself.

Ask him to devil his tenants beside the Post Office. If we get a good picture, we can call it _Local Affection, or The Old, Old Story_ and send it to _The Field_."

To humour my cousin's whim, I approached a dirty-looking child....

Despite my a.s.surances of good-will, however, the urchin retired as I advanced, all the time consuming his apple with a nervous energy, which suggested at once a conviction that I had my eye upon his fruit and a determination to confound my strategy. The apple was dwindling fast, and, redoubling my protests, I quickened my pace. For a second the boy hesitated. Then he took two last devastating bites, flung the core in my face, and took to his heels.

Pursuit being out of the question, I returned furiously to the others, to find them, as was to be expected, quite weak with laughter.

"It w-was good of you, Boy," declared Jill, tearfully. "And I got such a precious picture--just as he threw it."

"I suppose you know," I said stiffly, "that he hit me upon the nose."

"There must," said Berry, "have been some misunderstanding. The Spaniard's courtesy is proverbial. You're sure you weren't rude to him, brother?"

"Certain," said I grimly.

"Dear, dear," said my brother-in-law, opening a guide-book. "It's most mysterious. Just listen to this. _The stranger is at first apt to be carried away by the obliging tone of society, by the charming spontaneity of manner, and by the somewhat exaggerated politeness of the people he meets_. There now. Were you carried away at all? I mean, if you were----"

"I was not," said I.

Berry returned to the book.

"_He should return these civilities in kind, but he should avoid turning the conversation on serious matters, and should, above all, refrain from expressing an opinion on religious or political questions_. I do hope you didn't...."

I shook my head.

"Then," said Berry, "should we meet the child again, I shall cut him dead. And that's that. And now let's go and find a dairy. You'll be wanting a pick-me-up."

For an hour and a half we went about the city. We marked her bulwarks, we told her towers, we observed her mansions, we strolled upon her terraces, we enjoyed her prospects.

Last of all, we visited the Calle del Puerto. Before we had taken a dozen paces along the aged alley, a faint odour of perfume began to a.s.sert itself, and a few seconds later we were standing before a tiny shop, scrupulously sweet and clean to look upon, absurdly suggestive of the patronage of marionettes. A curtain of apple-green canvas was swaying in the low doorway, while an awning of the same stuff guarded a peepshow window, which was barely three feet long and less than one foot high. Herein, ranged behind a slab of fine plate-gla.s.s, stood three plain, stoppered phials, one rose-coloured, one green, and one a faint yellow. Below, on a grey silk pillow, was set a small vellum-bound book. This was open. In capitals of gold upon the pages displayed were two words only--PARFUMS FRANcAIS.

The effect was charming.

We gathered about the window, e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.n.g. surprise.

"_Urbs in rure_," said Jonah. "And then you're wrong. The Rue de la Paix isn't in it."

Which is a description I cannot better.

Daphne lifted the _portiere_, and we followed her in.

Pa.s.sing suddenly out of the brilliant suns.h.i.+ne, we could at first see nothing. Then gradually the interior of the shop took shape.

There was no counter, but an oblong mahogany gla.s.s-topped table, standing in the centre of the polished floor, evidently was discharging that office. Upon this stood three other phials, similar to those displayed in the window, but fitted with sprays instead of stoppers.

In front of each a grey gold-lettered slip of silk, laid between the gla.s.s and the mahogany, declared its contents--ROSE BLEUE ... LYS NOIR ... JASMIN GRIS.

The room was very low, and the walls were panelled. Upon these, except for that framing the door and window, were rows of shelves. On these, at decent intervals, stood phials of four different sizes. To judge from the colour of their gla.s.s, each wall was devoted to one of the three scents. That facing us was green, that on our left rose-coloured, that upon our right a faint yellow. A black curtain in a corner suggested a doorway leading to another part of the house. The air, naturally enough, was full of perfume.

We stared about us in silence.

After waiting perhaps five minutes, peering unsuccessfully behind the curtain, raising our voices in talk, and finally rapping upon the table without attracting attendance, we decided to return to where we had left the cars and visit the shop again on our way out of the town.

As we came to the Plaza, the clock of the great church announced the hour. A quarter to one.

"Good Heavens!" cried Daphne, checking the time by her wrist-watch.

"I'd no idea it was so late. And I left word for Evelyn to ring me up at the hotel at one o'clock." We made a rush for the cars. "Can it be done, Jonah?"

"Only by air," said my cousin. "Outside a track, thirteen miles in fourteen minutes is just a shade too thick; Still, there's nothing the matter with the road after Irun, and Evelyn may be delayed getting through."

He swung himself into Ping and started her up. My sister and Jill scrambled aboard while he was turning her round. As he headed for the Calle Mayor--

"Stop!" shrieked his sister. "The scent, Jonah, the scent. We've got to go back."

Jonah threw out the clutch.

"We'll get that!" cried Adele. "You go on, and we'll follow."

"Right."

The next moment Ping had dropped out of sight.

It was perhaps five minutes later that, after conjuring Berry to stay where he was and move the car for n.o.body, I a.s.sisted my wife on to the pavement.

When Fuenterrabia was planned, an eleven-feet-six wheel-base was not considered. To wheedle Pong to the mouth of the Calle del Puerto had been a ticklish business, and I had berthed her deliberately with an eye to our departure for the city gate, rather than to the convenience of such other vehicles as might appear. Besides, for my brother-in-law to have essayed manoeuvres in such surroundings would have been asking for trouble.

As Adele and I hastened along the street--