Berry Scene by Dornford Yates

mounted the crazy steps, dived beneath a dragon and disappeared.
    “There you are,” shrieked Withyham. “That’s what yot get for interfering. That’s what I get for—”
    But his guest had no ears to hear.
    His eyes and arms upraised, in a loud and shaking voice, he dealt with all English peasants, root and branch. (He had abandoned English as now inadequate: but Jonah told us later all that he said.) He spoke of treachery and insult, of dogs and the wages of sin, and he vowed the most shocking vengeance when once Der Tag should dawn. Then he turned upon Withyham and rent him, and Withyham yelled “Speak English” and rent him back. Then he stamped off, shouting for a carriage, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Withyham fell in behind.
    I followed, to see them out, and so was made free of a tailpiece, which I should have been sorry to miss.
    Because of his agitation, the German failed to remember that the fence had been tarred and had begun to climb it before its horrid condition reminded him of that fact. With screams of rage, he descended, to seek the spot at which he had climbed it before; for there he had hung a carpet, to save his hands and his clothes. As Withyham’s lantern showed, the carpet which he had chosen was a very fine Persian rug, and, since he had laid this face downward upon the tar, it was fair to assume that much of its value was gone.
    This typically German procedure was more than Withyham could bear.
    With a choking scream, he caught the man by the arm.
    “Face downward,” he yelled. “And that’s a museum piece.”
    “An’ vot of my trousers?” roared the German. “Vot of my beautiful suit? I ’ave pay three pounds for this suit at the biggest store in Berlin.”
    He shook off Withyham’s hand and turned to heave himself up.
    His reply was, no doubt, the straw that broke the camel’s back.
    Offered a perfect target, careless of what might befall, Withyham thrust the top of his lantern against the German’s seat…
    To this day Daphne swears that she heard the yells from the farm: and the others came running, to see what the matter might be. I cannot pretend that it rivalled Daisy Bell , but I never would have believed that any one human being could make so fearful a noise.
    Be that as it may, the Major rose into the air, and then fell heavily almost at Withyham’s feet. And his host whipped over the fence and, taking the carpet with him, stumbled towards the house.
    When we left him, the German, still roaring, was trying to crawl through the fence: but his bulk and the tar were against him, and I think that he would have done better to scale it at once.
     
    Half an hour had gone by, and we were seated at supper at Ightham’s farm.
    Hoby’s lads were now in charge of the silent round-about, and Ightham had sent his nephew to cut the padlock and chain from the gate which Withyham had set at the mouth of Romany Lane.
    The fine, old kitchen was gleaming with copper and oak, and the Ighthams fussed about us, pressing viands upon us and keeping our glasses full.
    My sister was regarding the paper.
    “And this will sink him?” she said.
    “It has sunk him,” said I. “I’ll lay you fifty pounds that the chain which George is undoing will never go back. If it does, our solicitors send him a copy of this. And when his solicitors see it, they will explain to him that he has no case.”
    “Can’t he plead duress?”
    “Not without the German to back him. And I hardly think he can count on Von Blodgenbruck’s help. And even then he wouldn’t get home. A man may make an admission, but he doesn’t make an untrue admission because there’s a barrel-organ a furlong away.”
    “Be fair,” said Berry. “Call it a musical box.”
    “Be a Jew’s ’arp, nex’,” said Hoby.
    As the laughter died down, Jonah lifted his glass.
    “I look to Berry,” he said. “First Withyham and then the German. He played them both to perfection. It looked so easy to start with. I mean, I