Jonah and Co. Yates Dornford

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      Berry closed his eyes.

      "My work," he said quietly, "is over. I now see that it is ordained that we shall not leave this spot. There's probably an angel in the way with a drawn sword, and the car sees it, although we can't. Any way, I'm not going to fight against Fate. And now don't speak to me. I'm going to dwell on bullock-carts and goat-chaises and other horse-drawn vehicles. I shan't last many minutes, and I should like to die in peace."

      With a swift rush, Ping drew up alongside. From its interior Adèle,

       Jill, Nobby and Jonah peered at us excitedly.

      "Hullo!" said the latter. "What's up?"

      "Go away," said Berry. "Drive on to your doom. An apparition has appeared to us, warning us not to proceed. It was quite definite about it. Good-bye."

      "Jonah, old chap," said I, "I'm afraid you're for it. Unless you take us up, we shall be here till nightfall."

      With a groan my cousin opened his door and descended into the road. …

      One minute later we were at the top of the hill.

      "And now," said Daphne, with the Michelin Guide open upon her knees, "now for Montreuil."

      When five minutes had passed and my brother-in-law was breathing through his nose less audibly, I lighted a cigarette and ventured to look about me.

      It was certainly a fine highway that we were using. Broad, direct, smooth beyond all expectation, it lay like a clean-cut sash upon the countryside, rippling away into the distance as though it were indeed that long, long lane that hath no turning. Presently a curve would come to save the face of the proverb, but the bends were few in number, and, as a general rule, did little more than switch the road a point or two to east or west, as, the mood took them. There was little traffic, and the surface was dry.

      Something had been said about the two cars keeping together, but I was not surprised when Jonah passed us like a whirlwind before we were half-way to Samer. He explained afterwards that he had stuck it as long as he could, but that to hold a car down to twenty on a road like a private racing-track was worse than "pulling."

      Fired by Jonah's example, Berry laid hold of the wheel, and we took the next hill at twenty-five.

      It was a brilliant day, but the cold was intense, and I think we were all glad that Pong was a closeable car. That Winter's reign had begun was most apparent. There was a bleak look upon the country's face: birch-rods that had been poplars made us gaunt avenues: here and there the cold jewellery of frost was sparkling. I fell to wondering how far south we must go to find it warmer.

      Presently we came to Montreuil.

      As we entered the little town—

      "This," said I, "was the headquarters of the British Expeditionary

       Force. From behind these walls——"

      "Don't talk," said Daphne, "or I shall make a mistake. Round to the left here. Wait a minute. No, that's right. And straight on. What a blessing this Michelin Guide is! Not too fast, Berry. Straight on. This ought to be Grande Rue." She peered out of the window. "Yes, that's right. Now, in a minute you turn to the left. … "

      After all, I reflected, we had to get to Rouen, and it was past mid-day.

      We had sworn not to lunch before we had passed Abbeville, so, since we had breakfasted betimes, I furtively encouraged my brother-in-law to "put her along." His response was to overtake and pass a lorry upon the wrong side, drive an unsuspecting bicyclist into a ditch and swerve, like a drunken sea-gull, to avoid a dead fowl. As we were going over forty it was all over before we knew where we were, but the impression of impending death was vivid and lasting, and nearly a minute had elapsed before I could trust my voice.

      "Are we still alive?" breathed Daphne. "I'm afraid to open my eyes."

      "I think we must be," said I. "At least, I'm still thirsty, if that's anything to go by."

      "I consider," said Berry, "that the way in which I extricated us from that impasse was little short of masterly. That cyclist ought to remember me in his prayers."

      "I don't want to discourage you," I said grimly, "but I shouldn't bank on it."

      The plan of Abbeville, printed in the Guide, was as simple to read as were my sister's directions to follow. At a critical moment, however, Berry felt unable to turn to the right.

      "The trouble is," he explained, as we plunged into a maze of back streets, "I've only got two hands and feet. To have got round that corner, I should have had to take out the clutch, go into third, release the brake, put out a hand, accelerate, sound the clarion and put the wheel over simultaneously. Now, with seven limbs I could have done it. With eight, I could also have scratched myself—an operation, I may say, which can be no longer postponed." He drew up before a charcuterie and mopped his face. "What a beautiful bunch of sausages!" he added. "Shall we get some? Or d'you think they'd be dead before we get to Rouen?"

      In contemptuous silence Daphne lowered her window, accosted the first passer-by, and asked the way. An admission that it was possible to reach the Neufchatel road without actually retracing our steps was at length extracted, and, after a prolonged study of the plan, my sister gave the word to proceed. Save that we twice mounted the pavement, grazed a waggon, and literally brushed an urchin out of the way, our emergence from Abbeville was accomplished without further incident.

      With the knowledge that, barring accidents, we ought to reach Rouen by half-past five, we ventured to devour a wayside lunch some ten minutes later.

      It was after Neufchatel that the surface of the great grey road argued neglect in no uncertain terms. For mile after mile, fat bulls of Basan, in the shape of gigantic pot-holes, gaped threateningly upon us. Berry, who was driving much better, did all that he could, but only a trick-cyclist could have picked his way between them. The car hiccoughed along piteously. …

      With the approach of darkness, driving became a burden, being driven a weariness of the flesh, and we were all thankful when we slid down a paved hill into the Cathedral City and, presently, past the great church and on to the very bank of the River Seine.

      The others had been awaiting us for nearly two hours.

      * * * * *

      "With this sun," said Adèle, "they ought to be glorious."

      Impiously I reflected that Berry was almost certainly enjoying his breakfast in bed.

      "I expect they will," I said abstractedly.

      Adèle slid an arm through mine.

      "It's very sweet of you to come with me, Boy."

      I stood still and looked at her.

      "You're a wonderful child," I said. "When you speak like that, I want to kick myself and burst into song simultaneously. I suppose that's Love."

      "I expect so," said Adèle mischievously.

      Five minutes later we were standing beneath the shadow of Chartres

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