Red In The Morning (25 page)

The plan was far from brilliant, but, as I have said, it was the best I could make. And at least the Rolls was faster than Goalby’s car.

It was three o’clock, and Mona and I were aboard the
Harvest Moon
. As once before, we were sitting alone in her cabin…

All seemed to have gone very well. After all, the police are human, and four other ships were sailing that afternoon.

I glanced at my watch.

“I ought to be going, my lady. Only ten days to Naples – and then you’re safe.”

Mona bit her lip.

“Only ten days,” she said.

I took her hand in mine.

“I know. It’ll seem a lifetime. I’d come with you; if I could. But keep your heart up, Mona. We’ve been through worse than this.”

“Supposing…the worst should happen.”

“Wire me at once,” I said. “It won’t matter then. And I will get hold of Mansel, as soon as ever I can. But nothing will happen, Mona. Send me a letter from Florence to Brooks’ Club.”

“And you?”

“I’ll write to Florence, I promise. You’ll find a letter there. Sure you’re all right for money?”

“Indeed I am. I’m full of travellers’ cheques. How much do I owe you, Richard? In cash, I mean?”

“Let that go for the moment. We’ll settle another time. And now I must go, my dear.”

We both stood up and I put my arms about her and she put hers round my neck.

“God bless you, Richard,” she quavered. “God bless you and Jenny for what you’ve done.”

“Don’t be silly, Mona. We’re three of a kind.”

I think I shall always see the smile that swept into her face.

Then she put up her lips and kissed me, as once she had done before.

Dusk was in, when we came to Maintenance. As the Rolls slid up the avenue –

“The Inspector’s there, sir,” said Bell. “I can see his car.”

“Damn the man,” said I. And then, “It can’t be helped.”

As Bell brought the Rolls to rest, Inspector Goalby moved to the foot of the steps. And, as I got out, he looked me up and down.

“Had a good day, Mr Chandos?”

“Not too bad,” I said.

“Are you quite sure that you have been hunting?”

“What do you mean?”

“This. I attended the meet at Gallowstree Hill.”

“Well, what of that?”

“I – didn’t see you, Mr Chandos.”

“That’s not surprising,” I said. “You attended a meet of the Blackmore Vale. I often hunt with them, but today I was hunting with the Beaufort. Hounds met at Flourish. That must be thirty-five miles from Gallowstree Hill.”

Goalby’s eyes were burning.

“I’m afraid it’s my fault, sir,” said Bell. “I thought you were going to hunt with the Blackmore Vale.”

I looked at Goalby.

“You should have asked me,” I said.

Goalby turned on his heel and got into his car.

Eight days had gone by – eight very worrying days. Jenny and I could think of nothing but Mona… Mona alone in the midst of that jovial throng – four hundred carefree souls, all of them bent on pleasure, laughing and making merry and bidding her join in their mirth. And she would smile and comply – for the look of the thing…with the sinister aerial above her, that terror by day and by night.

On the eighth day we went hunting – without much heart. But the meet was at Gallant’s Folly, less than a mile from our gates.

In fact, the day did us good: and Jenny was chattering gaily, as we rode home in the dusk.

I followed her into the hall, and Bell came forward at once to take my things.

“Chief Inspector Falcon is at The Crown, sir.”

“Oh, hell!” said I. “Has he been here?”

“Not yet, sir.”

I passed on thoughtfully.

Falcon was late in the field, but I knew he was a very good man. Mansel thought much of him and had told me so. Still, though it meant more lies, I did not see what he could do. I had taken care to find out exactly how hounds had run on the day of the meet at Flourish, and Walter knew where I had mounted my second horse. Though Falcon might know something, at least he did not yet know where Mona was, for, if he did, he would not be wasting his time in the Wiltshire countryside. And charm he never so wisely, he should learn nothing from me. Still, I was far from easy. Falcon was very clever, and I am at my worst in a battle of wits.

He did not come that evening: but I knew very well he would come the following day.

And so he did.

It was a lovely morning, clean out of the basket of spring. We had breakfasted betimes, and Jenny was in the meadows and I was sitting on the terrace, reading the morning paper, which reached us at half-past eight.

Towards the foot of the page, a paragraph caught my eye.

SUDDEN DEATH OF A PORTUGUESE BANKER

Senhor Vasco Gonzales, the eminent banker, who was on a visit to London, collapsed last night, when dining at the Portuguese Embassy in Belgrave Square. Senhor Gonzales expired, before medical aid arrived.

For a moment I stared upon the statement.

Then I knew such a sense of relief as did not, I fear, accord with the death of an honest man.

We had won the match. Mona Lelong was saved. There could be no proceedings, for the only man who knew her could not be called. Had she been taken before the ship had sailed, Gonzales would have testified at Bow Street, and that would have been the end: for, though he had died the next day, she would have been extradited to Portugal. But now she was saved.

I was just going down to tell Jenny, when Bell appeared to say that Falcon was in the hall.

“Wait thirty seconds,” I said, “and then show him into the library.”

With that, I entered the room, whose windows were wide. Then I sat down at my table and took up paper and pen.

“Chief Inspector Falcon, sir.”

I rose to my feet.

“Good morning, Chief Inspector. D’you mind if I finish this letter, before we talk?”

“Of course I don’t, Mr Chandos.”

“Then sit down and take the paper.”

“Thank you. I will. It hadn’t arrived when I left.”

Writing idly, I watched him – with the tail of my eye. And then I saw him start – and stare at the paragraph.

I let another minute go by. Then I rose and left the table, to move to the fire.

Falcon folded the paper and got to his feet.

With a pleasant smile, he looked me full in the eyes.

“You win, Mr Chandos,” he said. “You’re a very good friend, but it seems there’s a better one, still.”

“Death makes no mistakes,” said I.

“From what I hear, I don’t think you made very many. Goalby, of course, should be broken for going to Gallowstree Hill.”

“Where would you have gone?”

“Where you went, Mr Chandos.” He put out his hand. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” I said. “I’m sorry I spoked your wheel. But not very long ago she saved my life.”

“In that case, honours are even. If she had been extradited, she wouldn’t have lived very long.”

And that is the end of my tale.

We often hear from Mona. I cannot say where she lives: but I know she is not unhappy; for no one whose heart was heavy could write the charming sketches that lighten
The
—. That great gentleman, Jonathan Mansel, becomes our most welcome guest at least four times in the year. John and Audrey Bagot spend Christmas at Maintenance. And Carson and Rowley are nearly as much at home there as Bell himself. But I often think of the days when Gedge and Brevet were rampant and we were badly placed – when I was lying in Arx, and Mansel and Bagot were kicking against the pricks. And then I remember Mona: for, as I must have shown, but for that gallant lady, this tale would not have been told.

(in order of first publication)

These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

(in order of first publication)

These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

(in order of first publication)

These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

(in order of first publication)

Published by House of Stratus

Adèle & Co This is the first full-length novel featuring Yates’ finest comic creation, Bertram ‘Berry’ Pleydell. The popular character of Adéle is based on the author’s first wife, Bettine, a highly gregarious American dancer and actress. Written in response to massive public demand for the Berry stories, this is regarded as one of Yates’ best books. Amongst the madcap escapades of the Pleydell clan as they career about the French countryside you will find ‘crime, criminals, and some of the funniest writing in the English language’.

And Berry Came Too Eight stories in which we encounter ‘the hair-raising adventures and idiotic situations of the Pleydell family’ ( Punch ). Along with John Buchan and ‘Sapper’, Yates dominated the adventure book market of the inter-war years, and Berry is regarded as one of British comic writing’s finest creations, including Tom Sharpe amongst his fans. Read these and weep (with laughter).

As Berry & I Were Saying Reprinted four times in three months, this semi-autobiographical novel is a humorous account of the author’s hazardous experiences in France, at the end of the World War II. Darker and less frivolous than some of Yates’ earlier books, he describes it as ‘really my own memoir put into the mouths of Berry and Boy’, and at the time of publication it already had a nostalgic feel. A great hit with the public and a ‘scrapbook of the Edwardian age as it was seen by the upper-middle classes’.

B-Berry & I Look Back This is Yates’ final book, a semi-autobiographical novel spanning a lifetime of events from the sinking of the Titanic to the notorious Tichborne murder case. It opens with Berry, one of British comic writing’s finest creations, at his funniest, and is a companion volume to As Berry and I Were Saying . Pure, vintageYates.

Berry & Co This collection of short stories featuring ‘Berry’ Pleydell and his chaotic entourage established Dornford Yates’ reputation as one of the best comic writers in a generation, and made him hugely popular. The German caricatures in the book carried such a sting that when France was invaded in 1939 Yates, who was living near the Pyrenées, was put on the wanted list and had to flee.

The Berry Scene These stories, written by huge popular demand, give us classic Berry Pleydell – Yates’ finest comic character – at the top of his form. The first story sees Berry capturing a German spy at a village cricket match in 1914, and things get more bizarre from then on. A self-consciously nostalgic work harking back to more decorous days, here are tense plotting and high farce of the best kind.

Blind Corner This is Yates’ first thriller: a tautly plotted page-turner featuring the crime-busting adventures of suave Richard Chandos. Chandos is thrown out of Oxford for ‘beating up some Communists’, and on return from vacation in Biarritz he witnesses a murder. Teaming up at his London club with friend Jonathan Mansel, a stratagem is devised to catch the killer. The novel has compelling sequels: Blood Royal , An Eye For a Tooth, Fire Below and Perishable Goods .

Blood Royal At his chivalrous, rakish best in a story of mistaken identity, kidnapping, and old-world romance, Richard Chandos takes us on a romp through Europe in the company of a host of unforgettable characters. This fine thriller can be read alone or as part of a series with Blind Corner , An Eye For a Tooth , Fire Below and Perishable Goods .

Brother of Daphne Daphne is ‘well-born, elegant, beautiful, and not especially bright’. In this, Yates’ earliest collection of stories, we meet the Pleydell clan and encounter their high-spirited comic adventures. It is a world of Edwardian gentility and accomplished farce that brought the author instant fame when the stories appeared in Windsor Magazine .

Cost Price A story from Dornford Yates’ later career, of stolen treasure, set against a backdrop of World War II: adventure, a travelling circus and much more besides. Lots of favourite Yates characters are here, as well as some new ones, like the Portuguese mule in trousers, and a few striking villains. This is the legendary Chandos’ final fictional appearance. A tense, assured plot and vintage comedy from a master of the genre.