Post of Honour by R. F. Delderfield Page B

bedroom overlooking the garden but soon this window was shattered and he saw that people had made their way round the house and were cavorting about his flower beds, pulling up plants and shrubs and howling like dervishes. Then Eph Morgan remembered, the German had a motor and at once linked it in his mind to the Squire’s derelict Belsize, still embedded in Sorrel mud. It seemed to Morgan a good idea that there should be two derelict cars in the district so, with the help of many willing hands, he trundled it out of the coach-house and on to a rose bed where, with the tools taken from the shed, it was soon reduced to a wreck. More people continued to arrive from the village and as it was nearly dusk someone suggested a bonfire so Pascoe punctured the petrol tank with a garden fork and soon there was a very good bonfire indeed, one that could be seen a great way off. Paul saw it as he crossed the ford and set off at a gallop for the village, making the journey in the record time of eleven minutes, for he was riding a mettlesome four-year-old that Rose had sold him just before the outbreak of war. He had been warned of the riot by Pansy Pascoe who had the forethought to use The Raven’s telephone and she urged him to come quickly before murder was done. Pansy was probably the only person in the village who disapproved of the riot. She had been employed by the professor as a daily help and he had treated her with kindness and generosity. She realised, however, that it was useless to argue with her husband Walt in his present mood, for he was full of beer, having enlisted that very day at Whinmouth and was due to depart the following morning. She said, on the telephone, ‘Do ’ee come quick, Squire! They’re murderin’ the poor old toad!’ and Paul had set off at once shouting to Chivers to send John Rudd after him and during his wild ride along the river bank he thought savagely of the strange madness that had seized people since newspapers had begun calling Germans ‘Huns’ and printing stories of crucified Belgian babies that no man in his sense could believe.
    They would not have gone as far as to lay hands on the German. He could see that as soon as he flung himself from his horse and rushed round behind the house, where it seemed as though the entire population of the village was dancing round the blazing wreck of the Humber. The house, with all its windows shattered, looked empty but someone said the old professor was inside, hiding under a bed probably. Paul’s informant seemed to assume that the Squire had arrived to share in the fun and was astounded when Paul grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and shouted, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? Has everybody gone stark, staring mad? Who started this business? Who began it? Do you realise you could all go to prison for this?’ and he punched his way into the centre of the ring.
    His words had immediate effect. For a long time now they had been content to have him do most of their thinking. Tom Williams said, a little shamefacedly, ‘I told ’em they was goin’ a bit far, Squire. Breaking the old devil’s windows would ha’ been enough to frighten the ole bastard out o’ the Valley!’ but he too had a shock when Paul spun round on him, shouting, ‘You bloody idiot, Tom! What harm has the old fellow ever done any of us, and how the hell can he be responsible for the Kaiser’s doings? He’s a fugitive from the Junkers himself! He only came here to get a bit of peace!’ Then, having cleared a ring and seeing people beginning to slip away round to the front of the house, he shouted, ‘The next person to throw a stone or touch anything here will be reported by me to the Whinmouth police, do you hear?’
    They heard, those who were not already gone, and within a few moments Paul had the garden to himself, except for some wide-eyed children who should have been in bed. He said, sharply, ‘Get on home. The policeman will be here in a