Berry And Co. by Dornford Yates Page A

and a moment later our absurd link-boy advanced cautiously in the direction of the gate.
    Fitch let in the clutch.
    We must have been halfway across, when a lamp of extraordinary power came gliding up on the near side, confusing all eyes and altogether effacing our guiding light.
    Fitch applied his brakes and cried out a warning. Instantly the lamp stopped, but its glare was blinding and our chauffeur was clearly afraid to move.
    In a flash I was out of the car and holding my shawl over the face of the offender. At once Fitch took the car forward. As I fell in behind, I heard Berry’s voice.
    “Thank you. I hope I didn’t jostle your ’bus. Yes, I am completely and utterly lost. No, I don’t mind at all. I’m going to bale out the drinking-trough and sleep there. And in the morning they’ll take me to the Foundling Hospital. Hullo. That’s done it. Blind me first and then run me down. What are you? A travelling lighthouse or an air-raid? Want to get to Cannon Street? Well, I should go round by sea, if I were you… Well, if you must know, I’m Mary Pickford about to be trodden to death in Maelstrom or Safety Last . You know, you’re not racing your engine enough. I can still hear myself think…”
    His voice grew fainter and stopped.
    Vigorously I shouted his name. A cold draught, and we swept into the Park. Fitch pulled up on the left hand side.
    “Berry, Berry!” I shouted.
    In the distance I could hear voices, but no one answered me…
    In response to my sister’s exhortations I re-entered the car, and drew a rug over my shivering limbs. The others put their heads out of the windows and shouted for Berry in unison. There was no reply.
    For a quarter of an hour we shouted at intervals. Then Jonah took the other lamp and returned to the gate. He did not reappear for ten minutes, and we were beginning to give him up, when to our relief he opened the door.
    “No good,” he said curtly. “We’d better get on. He’s probably gone home.”
    “I suppose he’s all right,” said Daphne, in some uneasiness.
    “You can’t come to any harm on foot,” said I. “Everything’s going dead slow for its own sake. And when I last heard him, he was having the time of his life. Incidentally, as like as not, he’ll strike a car that’s going to the Ball and ask for a lift.”
    “I expect he will,” said Jill. “There must be any amount on the way.”
    “All right,” said my sister. “Tell Fitch to carry on.”
    Twenty minutes later that good helmsman set us down at the main entrance to the Albert Hall.
     
    The conditions prevailing within that edifice suggested that few, if any, ticket-holders had been deterred from attending by the conditions prevailing without. The boxes were full, the floor was packed, the corridors were thronged with eager shining revellers, dancing and strolling and chattering to beat the band, which was flooding every corner of the enormous building with an air of gaiety so infectious that even the staid Jonah began to grumble that the dance would be over before the girls emerged from the cloakroom.
    The Field of the Cloth of Gold cannot have presented a more splendid spectacle. True, there was nothing of the pageant about the function, neither were Pomp and Chivalry among the guests. But Grace was there, and Ease and Artlessness, lending the scene that warmth and life and verity which Form and Ceremony do not allow.
    The utter hopelessness of encountering my lady of the limousine was so apparent that I relegated a ridiculous notion which I had been harbouring to the region of things impossible, and determined to think about it no more. For all that, I occasionally found myself scanning the crowd of strangers and wondering whether there was one amongst them whose voice I knew. It was during one of these lapses that I heard my name.
    “Who have you lost?” asked Maisie Dukedom, all radiant as a gold shepherdess.
    “Dance with me,” said I, “and I’ll tell you.”
    She glanced at a