The Quest

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

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An unwonted peace hung over the Villa Elsinore, broken, however, at frequentintervals, by clamorous lamentations suggestive of bewildered bereavement. TheMomebys had lost their infant child; hence the peace which its absence entailed;they were looking for it in wild, undisciplined fashion, giving tongue the wholetime, which accounted for the outcry which swept through house and gardenwhenever they returned to try the home coverts anew. Clovis, who was temporarilyand unwillingly a paying guest at the villa, had been dozing in a hammock at thefar end of the garden when Mrs. Momeby had broken the news to him."We've lost Baby," she screamed."Do you mean that it's dead, or stampeded, or that you staked it at cards andlost it that way?" asked Clovis lazily."He was toddling about quite happily on the lawn," said Mrs. Momeby tearfully,"and Arnold had just come in, and I was asking him what sort of sauce he wouldlike with the asparagus--""I hope he said hollandaise," interrupted Clovis, with a show of quickenedinterest, "because if there's anything I hate--""And all of a sudden I missed Baby," continued Mrs. Momeby in a shriller tone."We've hunted high and low, in house and garden and outside the gates, and he'snowhere to be seen.""Is he anywhere to be heard?" asked Clovis; "if not, he must be at least twomiles away.""But where? And how?" asked the distracted mother."Perhaps an eagle or a wild beast has carried him off," suggested Clovis."There aren't eagles and wild beasts in Surrey," said Mrs. Momeby, but a note ofhorror had crept into her voice."They escape now and then from travelling shows. Sometimes I think they let themget loose for the sake of the advertisement. Think what a sensational headlineit would make in the local papers: 'Infant son of prominent Nonconformistdevoured by spotted hyena.' Your husband isn't a prominent Nonconformist, buthis mother came of Wesleyan stock, and you must allow the newspapers somelatitude.""But we should have found his remains," sobbed Mrs. Momeby."If the hyena was really hungry and not merely toying with his food therewouldn't be much in the way of remains. It would be like the small-boy-and-applestory - there ain't going to be no core."Mrs. Momeby turned away hastily to seek comfort and counsel in some otherdirection. With the selfish absorption of young motherhood she entirelydisregarded Clovis's obvious anxiety about the asparagus sauce. Before she hadgone a yard, however, the click of the side gate caused her to pull up sharp.Miss Gilpet, from the Villa Peterhof, had come over to hear details of thebereavement. Clovis was already rather bored with the story, but Mrs. Momeby wasequipped with that merciless faculty which finds as much joy in the ninetiethtime of telling as in the first."Arnold had just come in; he was complaining of rheumatism--""There are so many things to complain of in this household that it would neverhave occurred to me to complain of rheumatism," murmured Clovis."He was complaining of rheumatism," continued Mrs. Momeby, trying to throw achilling inflection into a voice that was already doing a good deal of sobbingand talking at high pressure as well.She was again interrupted."There is no such thing as rheumatism," said Miss Gilpet. She said it with theconscious air of defiance that a waiter adopts in announcing that the cheapest-priced claret in the wine-list is no more. She did not proceed, however, tooffer the alternative of some more expensive malady, but denied the existence ofthem all.Mrs. Momebys temper began to shine out through her grief."I suppose you'll say next that Baby hasn't really disappeared.""He has disappeared," conceded Miss Gilpet, "but only because you haven'tsufficient faith to find him. It's only lack of faith on your part that preventshim from being restored to you safe and well.""But if he's been eaten in the meantime by a hyena and partly digested," saidClovis, who clung affectionately to his wild beast theory, "surely some ill-effects would be noticeable?"Miss Gilpet was rather staggered by this complication of the question."I feel sure that a hyena has not eaten him," she said lamely."The hyena may be equally certain that it has. You see, it may have just as muchfaith as you have, and more special knowledge as to the present whereabouts ofthe baby."Mrs. Momeby was in tears again. "If you have faith," she sobbed, struck by ahappy inspiration, "won't you find our little Erik for us? I am sure you havepowers that are denied to us."Rose-Marie Gilpet was thoroughly sincere in her adherence to Christian Scienceprinciples; whether she understood or correctly expounded them the learned insuch manners may best decide. In the present case she was undoubtedly confrontedwith a great opportunity, and as she started forth on her vague search shestrenuously summoned to her aid every scrap of faith that she possessed. Shepassed out into the bare and open high road, followed by Mrs. Momeby's warning,"It's no use going there, we've searched there a dozen times." But Rose-Marie'sears were already deaf to all things save self-congratulation; for sitting inthe middle of the highway, playing contentedly with the dust and some fadedbuttercups, was a white-pinafored baby with a mop of tow-coloured hair tied overone temple with a pale-blue ribbon. Taking first the usual feminine precautionof looking to see that no motor-car was on the distant horizon, Rose-Mariedashed at the child and bore it, despite its vigorous opposition, in through theportals of Elsinore. The child's furious screams had already announced the factof its discovery, and the almost hysterical parents raced down the lawn to meettheir restored offspring. The aesthetic value of the scene was marred in somedegree by Rose-Marie's difficulty in holding the struggling infant, which wasborne wrong-end foremost towards the agitated bosom of its family. "Our ownlittle Erik come back to us," cried the Momebys in unison; as the child hadrammed its fists tightly into its eye-sockets and nothing could be seen of itsface but a widely gaping mouth, the recognition was in itself almost an act offaith."Is he glad to get back to Daddy and Mummy again?" crooned Mrs. Momeby; thepreference which the child was showing for its dust and buttercup distractionswas so marked that the question struck Clovis as being unnecessarily tactless."Give him a ride on the roly-poly," suggested the father brilliantly, as thehowls continued with no sign of early abatement. In a moment the child had beenplaced astride the big garden roller and a preliminary tug was given to set itin motion. From the hollow depths of the cylinder came an earsplitting roar,drowning even the vocal efforts of the squalling baby, and immediatelyafterwards there crept forth a white-pinafored infant with a mop of tow-colouredhair tied over one temple with a pale blue ribbon. There was no mistaking eitherthe features or the lung-power of the new arrival."Our own little Erik," screamed Mrs. Momeby, pouncing on him and nearlysmothering him with kisses; "did he hide in the roly-poly to give us all a bigfright?"This was the obvious explanation of the child's sudden disappearance and equallyabrupt discovery. There remained, however, the problem of the interloping baby,which now sat whimpering on the lawn in a disfavour as chilling as its previouspopularity had been unwelcome. The Momebys glared at it as though it had wormedits way into their short-lived affections by heartless and unworthy pretences.Miss Gilpet's face took on an ashen tinge as she stared helplessly at thebunched-up figure that had been such a gladsome sight to her eyes a few momentsago."When love is over, how little of love even the lover understands," quotedClovis to himself.Rose-Marie was the first to break the silence."If that is Erik you have in your arms, who is - that?""That, I think, is for you to explain," said Mrs. Momeby stiffly."Obviously," said Clovis, "it's a duplicate Erik that your powers of faithcalled into being. The question is: What are you going to do with him?"The ashen pallor deepened in Rose-Marie's cheeks. Mrs. Momeby clutched thegenuine Erik closer to her side, as though she feared that her uncanny neighbourmight out of sheer pique turn him into a bowl of gold-fish."I found him sitting in the middle of the road," said Rose-Marie weakly."You can't take him back and leave him there," said Clovis; "the highway ismeant for traffic, not to be used as a lumber-room for disused miracles."Rose-Marie wept. The proverb "Weep and you weep alone," broke down as badly onapplication as most of its kind. Both babies were wailing lugubriously, and theparent Momebys had scarcely recovered from their earlier lachrymose condition.Clovis alone maintained an unruffled cheerfulness."Must I keep him always?" asked Rose-Marie dolefully."Not always," said Clovis consolingly; "he can go into the Navy when he'sthirteen." Rose-Marie wept afresh."Of course," added Clovis, "there may be no end of a bother about his birthcertificate. You'll have to explain matters to the Admiralty, and they'redreadfully hidebound."It was rather a relief when a breathless nursemaid from the Villa Charlottenburgover the way came running across the lawn to claim little Percy, who had slippedout of the front gate and disappeared like a twinkling from the high road.And even then Clovis found it necessary to go in person to the kitchen to makesure about the asparagus sauce.

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