"_Pas un mot_, Herbert. Believe me, it's cheap at the price. What's more, _je suis enchante d'avoir fait votre connaissance_."

"_A votre service, Monsieur._"

"Itch Deen," said Berry. "Itch Deen. And if ever one of your bullocks bursts and you have to put in a new one, I only trust I shall be out of earshot. _Au revoir, mon ami. Ne faites-pas attention au monsieur avec le nez rouge dans l'auto. Il est grise._"

The reverent look with which Herbert favoured me, as he returned to his oxen, I shall never forget. Clearly, to be in the arms of Dionysus by eleven o'clock in the morning was arguing at once an affluence and a discretion which were almost sacred.

"Ah," said Berry, making his appearance, "you're awake, are you? I've just finished. Herbert's been watching me. Have you got the beer-opener there? It's--it's tiring work."

"What is?" said I grimly. "Instructing?"

"That's it," said my brother-in-law. "I explained as I went along.

Herbert was most interested. A little dense, you know, but such a nice fellow. He thinks the world of you. Now, I think the beer-opener's in the left-hand----"

"In you get," said I, starting the engine. "Philanthropy and beer don't go together."

With his foot upon the step, Berry regarded me.

"I should like Herbert's ruling on that," he said. "Besides, I've got a thirst which is above rubies."

"Think what it'll be like by lunch-time," said Jill. "Besides," she added, searching for her bag, "I've got some acid drops somewhere."

With an unearthly shriek Berry clawed at his temples.... For a moment he rocked to and fro agonisedly. Then he climbed heavily into the car.

As he sank back against the cushions--

"Murderess," he said. "And it was the best I've had since Egypt."

Two hours later we ran into Montrejeau, crept by its exquisite market--roofed and pillared and carrying its four hundred years as they were forty--dropped down a wicked hill, and swept over an infant Garonne on to the Luchon road.

Before we had covered five kilometres we sighted our goal.

'A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid.'

Out of the blowing meadows rose up an eminence. But for the snow-clad heights beyond, you would have called it a mountain. Its slopes were timbered, and if there was a road there, this could not be seen. High up above the trees was a city wall, standing out boldly, as ramparts should. Within the wall, still higher, were houses, white, ancient, stern-faced. And there, clear above them all, perched upon the very point of the hill, towered a cathedral. The size of it turned the city into a close. Its site, its bulwarks, however, turned the church into a castle. Here was an abbot filling the post of constable. The longer you gazed, the stronger the paradox became. Pictures of peace and war became inextricably confused. Men-at-arms mumbled their offices; steel caps concealed tonsures: embrasures framed precious panes: trumpets sounded the Angelus: mail c.h.i.n.ked beneath vestments: sallies became processions: sentinels cried "_Pax vobisc.u.m_".... Plainly most venerable, the tiny city and the tremendous church made up a living relic, of whose possession Memory can be very proud.

Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges ranks with the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

There is nothing like it in all the world.

Presently we pa.s.sed through the meadows, climbed up the tree-clad slopes, and came to a little terrace under the city-wall. Full in the sunlight, sheltered from the wind, the pleasaunce made an ideal refectory. The view of the mountains, moreover, which it afforded was superb. I stole by the city gate and berthed Pong close to the low parapet....

Ten minutes later Ping drew up behind us.

"Isn't this just lovely?" cried Adele, applying the hand-brake.

"It's unique," said I, advancing. "How did the car go?"

"Like a train," said Jonah, helping Daphne to alight. "I may add that I've enjoyed being driven."

"Oh, Jonah, how nice of you!" cried Adele.

It was, indeed, a compliment worth having.

"I told you so," I said unctuously.

"And now," said Berry, "if you've quite done scratching one another's backs----"

"Vulgar brute!" said Daphne.

"I beg your pardon?"

My sister repeated the appellative.

Instantly her husband a.s.sumed an att.i.tude of listening ecstasy.

"Hark!" he exclaimed dramatically. "I he-ear my lo-ove calling." A rapturous smile swept into his face. "It must be clo-osing time." He changed his tone to one of indicative solicitude. "More to the left, sweet chuck. No. That's the water-trough. I've got the pram here."

A master of pantomime, Berry can create an atmosphere with a look and a word. 'On the halls,' he would probably be a complete failure. On the terrace beneath the walls of St. Bertrand he was simply side-splitting.

Daphne and Jonah included, we collapsed tearfully....

As we did so there was a roar of laughter behind us.

One and all, we turned blindly about, to see a slim figure in a grey tweed suit dash for the gateway. As we looked, a grey hat flew off.

The next moment its owner was within the walls.

I ran to the gateway and stared up a little paved street. It was quite empty. After a moment I returned to pick up the hat. Looking at this, I saw that it came from Bond Street.

What was more remarkable was that twenty paces away was standing a grey two-seater. It was quite evident that, for car and pa.s.senger to approach without our knowledge, we must have been extremely preoccupied, and the new-comer's engine uncannily silent.

After some discussion of the incident, we placed the hat in the two-seater and proceeded to lunch....

The meal was over, and Jonah and I were washing the gla.s.ses, when--

"Now, no guide-books, please," said my brother-in-law. "I've read it all up. Where we are now was the _ulularium_."

"Whatever's that?" said Jill.

"The howling-green," said Berry. "The monks used to come and howl here before breakfast."

"What did they howl for?" said Adele.

"It was a form," was the reply, "of mortification, inst.i.tuted by Aitchless the 'Alf-baked and encouraged by his successor, who presented an empty but still fragrant beer-barrel to be howled for upon Michaelmas Eve." After the manner of a guide, the speaker preceded us to the gateway. "And now we come to the gate. Originally one-half its present width, it was widened by the orders of Gilbert the Gluttonous.

The work, in which he took the deepest interest, was carried out under his close supervision. Indeed, it was not until the demolition of the structure had been commenced that he was able to be released from a position which was embarra.s.sing not only his digestion, but his peace of mind, inasmuch as it was denying ingress to a cardinal who had much influence at the Vatican and was wearing tight boots."

The steep, narrow street was walled by great houses of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, while at the top a little archway b.u.t.tressed a mansion of obvious importance.

"We now enter," said Berry, with the time-honoured flourish of the hired conductor, "the famous Bishops' Row. At one time or another, in every one of these dwellings prelates of all sizes and shapes have snored, swallowed, and generally fortified the flesh. Upon that door were posted the bulletins announcing the progress towards recovery of Rudolph the Rash, who in the fifteenth year of his office decided to take a bath. His eventual restoration to health was celebrated with great rejoicing. From that window Sandwich, surnamed the Slop-pail, was wont to dispense charity in the shape of such sack as he found himself reluctantly unable to consume. Such self-denial surprised even his most devoted adherents, until it was discovered that the bishop had no idea that he was pouring libations into the street, but, with some hazy intention of conserving the remains of his liquor, invariably mistook the window for the door of a cupboard. The house on the left is of peculiar interest. Behind those walls----"