Delphi Complete Works of Thorne Smith (Illustrated), page 97
“Sort of gain their confidence?” Daniel suggested.
“Exactly,” replied Barney, his face lighting up. “You get those chickens to place implicit trust in you. Then you stick around while they are laying their eggs, after which you stroll up quite casually and borrow the eggs.”
“I think I see it all,” said Daniel.
“I knew you would,” replied Barney. “Well, when you’ve lured the eggs away from the chickens you find something or someone to throw them at — some enemy or creditor or just a casual passer-by. And there you are.”
“How do you mean, there we are?” demanded Daniel.
“Just that. There you are. You can’t go wrong. No eggs, no chickens. The answer is zero. It works out every time.”
“Pretty tough on the hens,” observed Daniel. “Don’t you ever pay them back?”
“No,” said Barney. “You buy ’em another rooster. After that I’m going in for bull-baiting.”
“Sounds interesting. How do you do that?”
“Well, you put a worm on the end of a bull’s nose.” began Barney. “Then you push him off the end of a pier and the fish in snapping at the worm bite the bull on the nose.”
“I should think the bull would be furious,” put in Daniel.
“He is,” said Barney. “And humiliated, too.”
Before Barney could go on any more about the bull, they had passed Singing Reef and were circling round a large, handsomely designed yacht with runaway-looking lines. On the stern they made out a freshly painted name.
No time for bull-baiting now. Barney took the wheel and brought the motorboat neatly alongside the yacht. Two handclasps and it was all over. Ready hands assisted June and Daniel aboard. The luggage followed.
Daniel and June were leaning over the rail as Barney sheered off.
“Good-by, Barney,” called Daniel. “God bless you, boy.”
“I’ll follow you, Dan,” called the small figure in the motorboat. “Wherever you are, I’ll follow you. Just let me know.”
June tried to speak, to call back a last word to Barney. Her voice broke and she held out both her hands in farewell.
The yacht got under way, and Barney turned to face a lonely sea. It had never been so lonely, he thought, so utterly bereft of life and interest. He turned his head and looked back at the rapidly vanishing yacht.
“So long, Dan,” he whispered. “It won’t be long. We’ll get together soon.”
True to her word, Sally was waiting for him in the same spot. She looked as if she had not even moved. At first she appeared as a small speck in the distance, and when Barney drew into the slip by which she stood she did not appear much larger.
For a long time they walked in silence, then presently they joined hands and Barney began to talk. Sally Brent listened with the wisdom of her sex.
When they reached Crewe House, Scott Munson was sitting on the veranda. As he watched them approach, a strange expression came into his eyes. It would have been difficult to tell at that moment the nature of his thoughts.
“Hello, Scott,” said Barney.
“Out of my sight,” replied Munson. “What have you done with Bennett and the Shays?”
“Don’t be silly, Scott,” said Barney. “Do I look as if I could do away with three able-bodied men?”
“No,” admitted Scott, “but someone has.”
“Perhaps they got tired of waiting for you and just went home.”
“Who was responsible for that fake telephone call this morning?”
“Search me,” said Barney.
“I’d like to hang you,” said Scott.
That night Barney sat on the veranda and wondered about June and Daniel. A few chairs away Munson was smoking moodily. Well on their way to the sea, June and Daniel were leaning over the rail of the flying yacht and wondering about Barney. Their thoughts must have passed on the water. Manning was not with them. He was walking across the lawn of Crewe House and approaching Barney’s chair.
“May I come along when you go?” he asked, his voice sounding hushed in the darkness.
Barney placed his hand on the back of Manning’s. “We’ll go together,” he said.
Later they were joined by Sam and Sue, but still the place seemed empty.
The next morning Munson received a furious long-distance call from New York City.
“This is Bennett,” that officer mouthed, “and I’m in New York. The Shays are with me and they’re driving me mad.”
“But why did you want to rush off to New York?” asked Munson, in his mildest voice.
Strange animal-like noises at the other end of the wire greeted this question.
“We didn’t want to,” Munson at last made out. There seemed to be tears in Bennett’s voice. “We were doped and dumped into a half-witted motorboat and sent out unconscious across the Sound. When we came to we didn’t know where we were. Later a Sound steamer picked us up and landed us at New York.”
Munson sat back and considered the telephone. His face was a study in conflicting emotions.
“What do you think of that, Mr. Munson?” Bennett’s voice demanded.
“Remarkably neat,” replied Munson. “Never heard of anything quite like it.”
“Ruthless, I call it,” said the other. “The work of a cold-blooded criminal.”
“Who doped you, Bennett?”
“That old devil you call Aunt Matty.”
“What!” Munson sat up in his chair.
“Thought you’d be surprised,” came Bennett’s voice. “Yes. She’s the snake in the grass. Put the bracelets on her, Mr. Munson. Arrest everybody. They’re all in it.”
Munson’s eyes reflected the hopelessness of the situation. “I’m afraid they are,” he answered. “In fact, I suspect the entire neighborhood. We can’t arrest all of them.”
“But what are we going to do?”
“Damned if I know, Bennett. I’ll admit I’m stumped. I know this, though — in the future I’m going to confine my efforts to the professionally criminal class. Amateurs are too erratic for me.”
“Same here,” replied Bennett earnestly. “I guess I better be getting the Shays back home.”
“All right,” said Munson. “Bring them along.”
He hung up and sat looking at the telephone. Slowly, reluctantly, a smile gathered at the corners of his lips. This facial manifestation finally crystallized in a grin of sheer enjoyment.
“Put the three of them in a boat and sent them off on their own,” he mused. “My God, what a thing to do. And the old lady’s in it — up to her ears. They’re all in it — more than I even suspect.”
Slowly he rose from the chair.
“Well, I’m licked,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-One: Reunion
One year later two small, untidy, and exceedingly incompetent-looking individuals alighted from the wrong train at the Swiss lake resort of Montreux. Many bags surrounded them, and at these they looked as if seeing them for the first time. The female member of this team proceeded to count the bags.
“I forget whether there were six or seven,” she said.
“I never knew,” replied Barney, then added cheerfully, “We’ve quite a lot at any rate.”
After bumping into each other several times in their efforts to get started they finally managed to go in the same direction at the same time. One hour later they had reached the hotel that was only ten minutes’ distance from their original point of departure. This was exceptionally good time for them. They considered themselves in luck.
At the hotel they at last induced someone to take them to the suite of rooms occupied by June and Daniel. Here they were warmly received. June had grown graver and more womanly. There was a suggestion of humility in her eyes and a world of understanding. Even about Daniel there lingered traces of the tragedy through which he had passed.
Barney and Sally Brent sat down very close together and looked about them.
“It’s nice here,” said Sally. “Nicer than Paris.”
“Yes,” replied Barney. “She thinks we lost a bag.”
“That’s all right,” said Daniel comfortingly. “We’ll get that for you. I can’t believe you’re here.”
“We are,” replied Barney. “We eloped.”
“And we’re not married yet,” added Sally, as though mentioning a fact of relatively minor importance.
“What!” exclaimed Daniel. “Not married. How’s that?”
“Well, you see we were awfully busy,” began Barney.
“And in New York we didn’t know just how to go about it,” Sally helped out.
“And by that time we’d gotten started,” put in her teammate.
“Started?” demanded Daniel. “How do you mean, started?”
“Everything,” replied Barney simply, and Sally nodded her head.
“Why didn’t you get the captain to marry you on the way over?” Daniel inquired.
“We didn’t think of it for a couple of days, then it didn’t seem to us as if it would be very nice,” Barney explained.
Daniel turned to June for help. She had sunk to a couch and was laughing silently but desperately. Tears were running down her face.
“Well,” said Daniel, turning back to the expectant pair. “We’ll have to fix that up, too. And without further delay.”
Barney’s face brightened. “I kept telling Sally you’d see about everything when we got here,” he said. “I never was any good about details.”
“Do you call getting married a detail?” asked Daniel.
“Sure,” said Barney, “compared with all the rest of it.”
“Where’s Manning?”
“He’ll be along later. Said he had some business to transact with a baroness or something.”
“A nice lot, the three of you,” observed Daniel.
“Yes,” replied Barney. “The three of us are all right. Munson’s in Paris. He sent you this.”
Daniel took the hastily written note and read:
To the both of you —
After your sneaking departure Betty and Tom became so indignant that they swore out two statements and gave them to the district attorney. They seemed sufficient to satisfy him, and so the case is officially closed. He attributes June’s confession to an attempt to extricate Daniel from an unfortunate set of circumstances. I can do nothing to change his mind. The law is no longer interested in either one of you, but I am. Why not join me this winter in Egypt? We could do well there.
Affectionately,
Scott Munson.
“I’ll show this to you later,” Daniel said to June. “Munson says everything is all right.” He put the letter into his pocket and once more considered the pair. “I suppose you’d like a drink,” he observed.
“Oh, yes,” said Barney.
“Could I have some ice-cream?” asked Sally. “Peach ice-cream, perhaps?”
Daniel smiled and June looked somewhat shyly at Sally. “Do you want to come over here, Sally?” she asked.
Evidently Sally did. June took her in her arms.
“Sure, kid,” she said, “you can have all the ice-cream you want.”
“I suppose you’d like to wash up a bit,” Daniel suggested.
“Do we have to do that now?” asked Barney.
“Oh, no,” replied Daniel. “It’s merely customary, that’s all.”
Sitting on the terrace overlooking the lake, the four of them did things about drinks and ices. Sally was extremely happy.
“I’ll paint that brute of a mountain,” declared Barney, waving a hand at the Dent du Midi.
“I guess it will be able to stand it,” observed Daniel. “Everybody paints that.”
“But not the way I’m going to paint it,” said Barney. “When I’ve finished with that mountain it won’t recognize itself.”
“That,” said Daniel, “is barely possible.”
June’s eyes were fixed on the mountain, but she was seeing High Point Rock. Barney’s arrival had brought so many things back to mind. Then she smiled upon Sally Brent, who was whole-heartedly sucking a spoon.
“Do you think you’ll like it here with us?” asked June.
“It’s wonderful,” said Sally. “We’ll all stick together, June.”
“And you two will damn well get married right off,” put in Daniel.
“Sure,” said Barney. “You fix us up.”
Later, when Manning arrived, it was discovered that he had brought the baroness with him. She was charming. They were still transacting business, it seemed, the exact nature of which was never quite disclosed.
THE END
The Night Life of the Gods (1931)
The Night Life of the Gods first appeared on 24 March 1931. It tells the story of Hunter Hawk, a scientist that lives in the country with family members that have been saddled on him; his sister and brother-in-law Alicia and Alfred Lambert, their children Daphne — a regular girl and the only family member that Hawk gets on with — and Junior, a terror, plus Grandpa Lambert, who would have been a “regular feller” if not for his age and his family. Hawk discovers a ray which will turn animate beings to stone and vice-versa. After a short interlude of revenge upon his family, he sets out — with the help of some wine that had been in his cellar for generations — to see the world and have some fun. At the Metropolitan Museum, he awakens a dozen Greek gods and goddesses; cops are dodged until clothes are found. Then Venus becomes the true vamp, Hebe passes drinks and Mercury shows himself to be an expert pickpocket. At a Turkish bath, Neptune causes trouble by swimming underwater and poking people with his trident, whilst Bacchus can barely survive a bottle of bootleg whiskey.
Critics of the time enjoyed the novel: “here is a fairy tale written for grown-ups…a fairy tale which may be a little shocking in spots, but which will be amusing from the beginning to the end.” Another reviewer wrote, “…of course there is no story, — only boisterous rompings and hilarity and contagious high spirits. It is daring and delightful nonsense.” Others suggested that it, “leers at the intelligent reader with a mordant sense of humour. Not for anyone with a weak stomach or too delicate sensibilities.” The reviewer went on to point out that it was, “filled with clever dialogue and ridiculous situations… this is a most entertaining book.” Perhaps the most accurate review was one that called it, “…a drunken book” and went on to say that “the constant inebriation of the characters is almost symbolic — the intoxication of free, strongly flowing life.”
Film rights for the book were purchased in March 1934 and the resulting film, starring Alan Mowbray as Hark, was released the following year. It was the final picture for director Lowell Sherman, who died in December 1934.
The first edition
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
The 1935 film adaptation
TO BORROW FROM MR. J. B. PRIESTLEY
THIS BOOK IS IN GRATITUDE OFFERED TO A COUPLE OF
GOOD COMPANIONS
NEAL AND DOROTHY ANDREWS
CHAPTER I
Criticizing an Explosion
THE SMALL FAMILY group gathered in the library was only conventionally alarmed by the sound of a violent explosion — a singularly self-centered sort of explosion.
“Well, thank God, that’s over,” said Mrs. Alice Pollard Lambert, swathing her sentence in a sigh intended to convey an impression of hard-pressed fortitude.
With bleak eyes she surveyed the fragments of a shattered vase. Its disastrous dive from the piano as a result of the shock had had in it something of the mad deliberation of a suicide’s plunge. Its hideous days were over now, and Mrs. Lambert was dimly aware of another little familiar something having been withdrawn from her life.
“I hope to high heaven this last one satisfies him for this spring at least,” was the petulant comment of Alfred, the male annex of Alice.
“I’ve been waiting and waiting and waiting,” came a thin disembodied voice from a dark corner. “Night and day I’ve been waiting and expecting — —”
“And hoping and praying, no doubt, Grandpa,” interrupted Daphne, idly considering a run in her stocking and wondering what she was going to do about it if anything, and when would be the least boring time to do it if she did, which she doubted.
“Alice,” complained Grandpa Lambert from the security of his shadows, “that baggage has no respect for her elders.”
Stella, femininely desirable but domestically a washout, made one of her typical off-balance entrances. It started with a sort of scrambled hovering at the door, developed this into a mad dash into the room, and terminated in a tragic example of suspended animation somewhere in the immaculate neighborhood of Mrs. Alice Pollard Lambert.
“Been an explosion, ma’am,” announced Stella in a deflated voice. “Mr. Betts says so.”
“Now all you need to do is to fall dead at our feet to make the picture complete,” remarked Daphne.
“Yes, Miss Daffy,” said Stella brightly.
“And if Mr. Betts says there’s been an explosion,” Daffy continued, “then there must have been an explosion. Betts is never wrong. You go back, Stella dear, and thank him for letting us know so promptly.”
“But, Miss Daffy, what shall we do about it?” asked Stella, vainly looking for some light to guide amid the encircling gloom.
“About what, Stella?” asked Daffy.
“This explosion, miss,” and Stella extended her hands as if she were offering a young explosion for the inspection of Daphne.
