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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Something New, by P. G. Wodehouse
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Something New
+
+Author: P. G. Wodehouse
+
+Release Date: June, 2000 [EBook #2042]
+Last Updated: March 24, 2019
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOMETHING NEW ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jim Tinsley
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SOMETHING NEW
+
+
+by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+The sunshine of a fair Spring morning fell graciously on London
+town. Out in Piccadilly its heartening warmth seemed to infuse
+into traffic and pedestrians alike a novel jauntiness, so that
+bus drivers jested and even the lips of chauffeurs uncurled into
+not unkindly smiles. Policemen whistled at their posts--clerks,
+on their way to work; beggars approached the task of trying to
+persuade perfect strangers to bear the burden of their
+maintenance with that optimistic vim which makes all the
+difference. It was one of those happy mornings.
+
+At nine o'clock precisely the door of Number Seven Arundell
+Street, Leicester Square, opened and a young man stepped out.
+
+Of all the spots in London which may fairly be described as
+backwaters there is none that answers so completely to the
+description as Arundell Street, Leicester Square. Passing along
+the north sidewalk of the square, just where it joins Piccadilly,
+you hardly notice the bottleneck opening of the tiny cul-de-sac.
+Day and night the human flood roars past, ignoring it. Arundell
+Street is less than forty yards in length; and, though there are
+two hotels in it, they are not fashionable hotels. It is just a
+backwater.
+
+In shape Arundell Street is exactly like one of those flat stone
+jars in which Italian wine of the cheaper sort is stored. The
+narrow neck that leads off Leicester Square opens abruptly into a
+small court. Hotels occupy two sides of this; the third is at
+present given up to rooming houses for the impecunious. These are
+always just going to be pulled down in the name of progress to
+make room for another hotel, but they never do meet with that
+fate; and as they stand now so will they in all probability stand
+for generations to come.
+
+They provide single rooms of moderate size, the bed modestly
+hidden during the day behind a battered screen. The rooms contain
+a table, an easy-chair, a hard chair, a bureau, and a round tin
+bath, which, like the bed, goes into hiding after its useful work
+is performed. And you may rent one of these rooms, with breakfast
+thrown in, for five dollars a week.
+
+Ashe Marson had done so. He had rented the second-floor front of
+Number Seven.
+
+Twenty-six years before this story opens there had been born to
+Joseph Marson, minister, and Sarah his wife, of Hayling,
+Massachusetts, in the United States of America, a son. This son,
+christened Ashe after a wealthy uncle who subsequently
+double-crossed them by leaving his money to charities, in due
+course proceeded to Harvard to study for the ministry. So far as
+can be ascertained from contemporary records, he did not study a
+great deal for the ministry; but he did succeed in running the
+mile in four minutes and a half and the half mile at a
+correspondingly rapid speed, and his researches in the art of
+long jumping won him the respect of all.
+
+That he should be awarded, at the conclusion of his Harvard
+career, one of those scholarships at Oxford University instituted
+by the late Cecil Rhodes for the encouragement of the liberal
+arts, was a natural sequence of events.
+
+That was how Ashe came to be in England.
+
+The rest of Ashe's history follows almost automatically. He won
+his blue for athletics at Oxford, and gladdened thousands by
+winning the mile and the half mile two years in succession
+against Cambridge at Queen's Club. But owing to the pressure of
+other engagements he unfortunately omitted to do any studying,
+and when the hour of parting arrived he was peculiarly unfitted
+for any of the learned professions. Having, however, managed to
+obtain a sort of degree, enough to enable him to call himself a
+Bachelor of Arts, and realizing that you can fool some of the
+people some of the time, he applied for and secured a series of
+private tutorships.
+
+A private tutor is a sort of blend of poor relation and
+nursemaid, and few of the stately homes of England are without
+one. He is supposed to instill learning and deportment into the
+small son of the house; but what he is really there for is to
+prevent the latter from being a nuisance to his parents when he
+is home from school on his vacation.
+
+Having saved a little money at this dreadful trade, Ashe came to
+London and tried newspaper work. After two years of moderate
+success he got in touch with the Mammoth Publishing Company.
+
+The Mammoth Publishing Company, which controls several important
+newspapers, a few weekly journals, and a number of other things,
+does not disdain the pennies of the office boy and the junior
+clerk. One of its many profitable ventures is a series of
+paper-covered tales of crime and adventure. It was here that Ashe
+found his niche. Those adventures of Gridley Quayle,
+Investigator, which are so popular with a certain section of the
+reading public, were his work.
+
+Until the advent of Ashe and Mr. Quayle, the British Pluck
+Library had been written by many hands and had included the
+adventures of many heroes: but in Gridley Quayle the proprietors
+held that the ideal had been reached, and Ashe received a
+commission to conduct the entire British Pluck
+Library--monthly--himself. On the meager salary paid him for
+these labors he had been supporting himself ever since.
+
+That was how Ashe came to be in Arundell Street, Leicester Square,
+on this May morning.
+
+He was a tall, well-built, fit-looking young man, with a clear
+eye and a strong chin; and he was dressed, as he closed the front
+door behind him, in a sweater, flannel trousers, and rubber-soled
+gymnasium shoes. In one hand he bore a pair of Indian clubs, in
+the other a skipping rope.
+
+Having drawn in and expelled the morning air in a measured and
+solemn fashion, which the initiated observer would have
+recognized as that scientific deep breathing so popular nowadays,
+he laid down his clubs, adjusted his rope and began to skip.
+
+When he had taken the second-floor front of Number Seven, three
+months before, Ashe Marson had realized that he must forego those
+morning exercises which had become a second nature to him, or
+else defy London's unwritten law and brave London's mockery. He
+had not hesitated long. Physical fitness was his gospel. On the
+subject of exercise he was confessedly a crank. He decided to
+defy London.
+
+The first time he appeared in Arundell Street in his sweater and
+flannels he had barely whirled his Indian clubs once around his
+head before he had attracted the following audience:
+
+  a) Two cabmen--one intoxicated;
+  b) Four waiters from the Hotel Mathis;
+  c) Six waiters from the Hotel Previtali;
+  d) Six chambermaids from the Hotel Mathis;
+  e) Five chambermaids from the Hotel Previtali;
+  f) The proprietor of the Hotel Mathis;
+  g) The proprietor of the Hotel Previtali;
+  h) A street cleaner;
+  i) Eleven nondescript loafers;
+  j) Twenty-seven children;
+  k) A cat.
+
+They all laughed--even the cat--and kept on laughing. The
+intoxicated cabman called Ashe "Sunny Jim." And Ashe kept on
+swinging his clubs.
+
+A month later, such is the magic of perseverance, his audience
+had narrowed down to the twenty-seven children. They still
+laughed, but without that ringing conviction which the
+sympathetic support of their elders had lent them.
+
+And now, after three months, the neighborhood, having accepted
+Ashe and his morning exercises as a natural phenomenon, paid him
+no further attention.
+
+On this particular morning Ashe Marson skipped with even more
+than his usual vigor. This was because he wished to expel by
+means of physical fatigue a small devil of discontent, of whose
+presence within him he had been aware ever since getting out of
+bed. It is in the Spring that the ache for the larger life comes
+on us, and this was a particularly mellow Spring morning. It was
+the sort of morning when the air gives us a feeling of
+anticipation--a feeling that, on a day like this, things surely
+cannot go jogging along in the same dull old groove; a
+premonition that something romantic and exciting is about to
+happen to us.
+
+But the southwest wind of Spring brings also remorse. We catch
+the vague spirit of unrest in the air and we regret our misspent
+youth.
+
+Ashe was doing this. Even as he skipped, he was conscious of a
+wish that he had studied harder at college and was now in a
+position to be doing something better than hack work for a
+soulless publishing company. Never before had he been so
+completely certain that he was sick to death of the rut into
+which he had fallen.
+
+Skipping brought no balm. He threw down his rope and took up the
+Indian clubs. Indian clubs left him still unsatisfied. The
+thought came to him that it was a long time since he had done his
+Larsen Exercises. Perhaps they would heal him.
+
+The Larsen Exercises, invented by a certain Lieutenant Larsen, of
+the Swedish Army, have almost every sort of merit. They make a
+man strong, supple, and slender. But they are not dignified.
+Indeed, to one seeing them suddenly and without warning for the
+first time, they are markedly humorous. The only reason why King
+Henry, of England, whose son sank with the White Ship, never
+smiled again, was because Lieutenant Larsen had not then invented
+his admirable exercises.
+
+So complacent, so insolently unselfconscious had Ashe become in
+the course of three months, owing to his success in inducing the
+populace to look on anything he did with the indulgent eye of
+understanding, that it simply did not occur to him, when he
+abruptly twisted his body into the shape of a corkscrew, in
+accordance with the directions in the lieutenant's book for the
+consummation of Exercise One, that he was doing anything funny.
+
+And the behavior of those present seemed to justify his
+confidence. The proprietor of the Hotel Mathis regarded him
+without a smile. The proprietor of the Hotel Previtali might have
+been in a trance, for all the interest he displayed. The hotel
+employees continued their tasks impassively. The children were
+blind and dumb. The cat across the way stropped its backbone
+against the railings unheeding.
+
+But, even as he unscrambled himself and resumed a normal posture,
+from his immediate rear there rent the quiet morning air a clear
+and musical laugh. It floated out on the breeze and hit him like
+a bullet.
+
+Three months ago Ashe would have accepted the laugh as
+inevitable, and would have refused to allow it to embarrass him;
+but long immunity from ridicule had sapped his resolution. He
+spun round with a jump, flushed and self-conscious.
+
+From the window of the first-floor front of Number Seven a girl
+was leaning. The Spring sunshine played on her golden hair and
+lit up her bright blue eyes, fixed on his flanneled and sweatered
+person with a fascinated amusement. Even as he turned, the laugh
+smote him afresh.
+
+For the space of perhaps two seconds they stared at each other,
+eye to eye. Then she vanished into the room.
+
+Ashe was beaten. Three months ago a million girls could have
+laughed at his morning exercises without turning him from his
+purpose. Today this one scoffer, alone and unaided, was
+sufficient for his undoing. The depression which exercise had
+begun to dispel surged back on him. He had no heart to continue.
+Sadly gathering up his belongings, he returned to his room, and
+found a cold bath tame and uninspiring.
+
+The breakfasts--included in the rent--provided by Mrs. Bell, the
+landlady of Number Seven, were held by some authorities to be
+specially designed to quell the spirits of their victims, should
+they tend to soar excessively. By the time Ashe had done his best
+with the disheveled fried egg, the chicory blasphemously called
+coffee, and the charred bacon, misery had him firmly in its grip.
+And when he forced himself to the table, and began to try to
+concoct the latest of the adventures of Gridley Quayle,
+Investigator, his spirit groaned within him.
+
+This morning, as he sat and chewed his pen, his loathing for
+Gridley seemed to have reached its climax. It was his habit, in
+writing these stories, to think of a good title first, and then
+fit an adventure to it. And overnight, in a moment of
+inspiration, he had jotted down on an envelope the words: "The
+Adventure of the Wand of Death."
+
+It was with the sullen repulsion of a vegetarian who finds a
+caterpillar in his salad that he now sat glaring at them.
+
+The title had seemed so promising overnight--so full of strenuous
+possibilities. It was still speciously attractive; but now that
+the moment had arrived for writing the story its flaws became
+manifest.
+
+What was a wand of death? It sounded good; but, coming down to
+hard facts, what was it? You cannot write a story about a wand of
+death without knowing what a wand of death is; and, conversely,
+if you have thought of such a splendid title you cannot jettison
+it offhand. Ashe rumpled his hair and gnawed his pen.
+
+There came a knock at the door.
+
+Ashe spun round in his chair. This was the last straw! If he had
+told Mrs. Ball once that he was never to be disturbed in the
+morning on any pretext whatsoever, he had told her twenty times.
+It was simply too infernal to be endured if his work time was to
+be cut into like this. Ashe ran over in his mind a few opening
+remarks.
+
+"Come in!" he shouted, and braced himself for battle.
+
+A girl walked in--the girl of the first-floor front; the girl
+with the blue eyes, who had laughed at his Larsen Exercises.
+
+Various circumstances contributed to the poorness of the figure
+Ashe cut in the opening moments of this interview. In the first
+place, he was expecting to see his landlady, whose height was
+about four feet six, and the sudden entry of somebody who was
+about five feet seven threw the universe temporarily out of
+focus. In the second place, in anticipation of Mrs. Bell's entry,
+he had twisted his face into a forbidding scowl, and it was no
+slight matter to change this on the spur of the moment into a
+pleasant smile. Finally, a man who has been sitting for half an
+hour in front of a sheet of paper bearing the words: "The
+Adventure of the Wand of Death," and trying to decide what a wand
+of death might be, has not his mind under proper control.
+
+The net result of these things was that, for perhaps half a
+minute, Ashe behaved absurdly. He goggled and he yammered. An
+alienist, had one been present, would have made up his mind about
+him without further investigation. For an appreciable time he did
+not think of rising from his seat. When he did, the combined leap
+and twist he executed practically amounted to a Larsen Exercise.
+
+Nor was the girl unembarrassed. If Ashe had been calmer he would
+have observed on her cheek the flush which told that she, too,
+was finding the situation trying. But, woman being ever better
+equipped with poise than man, it was she who spoke first.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm disturbing you."
+
+"No, no!" said Ashe. "Oh, no; not at all--not at all! No. Oh,
+no--not at all--no!" And would have continued to play on the
+theme indefinitely had not the girl spoken again.
+
+"I wanted to apologize," she said, "for my abominable rudeness in
+laughing at you just now. It was idiotic of me and I don't know
+why I did it. I'm sorry."
+
+Science, with a thousand triumphs to her credit, has not yet
+succeeded in discovering the correct reply for a young man to
+make who finds himself in the appalling position of being
+apologized to by a pretty girl. If he says nothing he seems
+sullen and unforgiving. If he says anything he makes a fool of
+himself. Ashe, hesitating between these two courses, suddenly
+caught sight of the sheet of paper over which he had been poring
+so long.
+
+"What is a wand of death?" he asked.
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"A wand of death?"
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+The delirium of the conversation was too much for Ashe. He burst
+out laughing. A moment later the girl did the same. And
+simultaneously embarrassment ceased to be.
+
+"I suppose you think I'm mad?" said Ashe.
+
+"Certainly," said the girl.
+
+"Well, I should have been if you hadn't come in."
+
+"Why was that?"
+
+"I was trying to write a detective story."
+
+"I was wondering whether you were a writer."
+
+"Do you write?"
+
+"Yes. Do you ever read Home Gossip?"
+
+"Never!"
+
+"You are quite right to speak in that thankful tone. It's a
+horrid little paper--all brown-paper patterns and advice to the
+lovelorn and puzzles. I do a short story for it every week, under
+various names. A duke or an earl goes with each story. I loathe
+it intensely."
+
+"I am sorry for your troubles," said Ashe firmly; "but we are
+wandering from the point. What is a wand of death?"
+
+"A wand of death?"
+
+"A wand of death."
+
+The girl frowned reflectively.
+
+"Why, of course; it's the sacred ebony stick stolen from the
+Indian temple, which is supposed to bring death to whoever
+possesses it. The hero gets hold of it, and the priests dog him
+and send him threatening messages. What else could it be?"
+
+Ashe could not restrain his admiration.
+
+"This is genius!"
+
+"Oh, no!"
+
+"Absolute genius. I see it all. The hero calls in Gridley Quayle,
+and that patronizing ass, by the aid of a series of wicked
+coincidences, solves the mystery; and there am I, with another
+month's work done."
+
+She looked at him with interest.
+
+"Are you the author of Gridley Quayle?"
+
+"Don't tell me you read him!"
+
+"I do not read him! But he is published by the same firm that
+publishes Home Gossip, and I can't help seeing his cover
+sometimes while I am waiting in the waiting room to see the
+editress."
+
+Ashe felt like one who meets a boyhood's chum on a desert island.
+Here was a real bond between them.
+
+"Does the Mammoth publish you, too? Why, we are comrades in
+misfortune--fellow serfs! We should be friends. Shall we be
+friends?"
+
+"I should be delighted."
+
+"Shall we shake hands, sit down, and talk about ourselves a
+little?"
+
+"But I am keeping you from your work."
+
+"An errand of mercy."
+
+She sat down. It is a simple act, this of sitting down; but, like
+everything else, it may be an index to character. There was
+something wholly satisfactory to Ashe in the manner in which this
+girl did it. She neither seated herself on the extreme edge of
+the easy-chair, as one braced for instant flight; nor did she
+wallow in the easy-chair, as one come to stay for the week-end.
+She carried herself in an unconventional situation with an
+unstudied self-confidence that he could not sufficiently admire.
+
+Etiquette is not rigid in Arundell Street; but, nevertheless, a
+girl in a first-floor front may be excused for showing surprise
+and hesitation when invited to a confidential chat with a
+second-floor front young man whom she has known only five
+minutes. But there is a freemasonry among those who live in large
+cities on small earnings.
+
+"Shall we introduce ourselves?" said Ashe. "Or did Mrs. Bell tell
+you my name? By the way, you have not been here long, have you?"
+
+"I took my room day before yesterday. But your name, if you are
+the author of Gridley Quayle, is Felix Clovelly, isn't it?"
+
+"Good heavens, no! Surely you don't think anyone's name could
+really be Felix Clovelly? That is only the cloak under which I
+hide my shame. My real name is Marson--Ashe Marson. And yours?"
+
+"Valentine--Joan Valentine."
+
+"Will you tell me the story of your life, or shall I tell mine
+first?"
+
+"I don't know that I have any particular story. I am an
+American."
+
+"Not American!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because it is too extraordinary, too much like a Gridley Quayle
+coincidence. I am an American!"
+
+"Well, so are a good many other people."
+
+"You miss the point. We are not only fellow serfs--we are fellow
+exiles. You can't round the thing off by telling me you were born
+in Hayling, Massachusetts, I suppose?"
+
+"I was born in New York."
+
+"Surely not! I didn't know anybody was."
+
+"Why Hayling, Massachusetts?"
+
+"That was where I was born."
+
+"I'm afraid I never heard of it."
+
+"Strange. I know your home town quite well. But I have not yet
+made my birthplace famous; in fact, I doubt whether I ever shall.
+I am beginning to realize that I am one of the failures."
+
+"How old are you?"
+
+"Twenty-six."
+
+"You are only twenty-six and you call yourself a failure? I think
+that is a shameful thing to say."
+
+"What would you call a man of twenty-six whose only means of
+making a living was the writing of Gridley Quayle stories--an
+empire builder?"
+
+"How do you know it's your only means of making a living? Why
+don't you try something new?"
+
+"Such as?"
+
+"How should I know? Anything that comes along. Good gracious, Mr.
+Marson; here you are in the biggest city in the world, with
+chances for adventure simply shrieking to you on every side."
+
+"I must be deaf. The only thing I have heard shrieking to me on
+every side has been Mrs. Bell--for the week's rent."
+
+"Read the papers. Read the advertisement columns. I'm sure you
+will find something sooner or later. Don't get into a groove. Be
+an adventurer. Snatch at the next chance, whatever it is."
+
+Ashe nodded.
+
+"Continue," he said. "Proceed. You are stimulating me."
+
+"But why should you want a girl like me to stimulate you? Surely
+London is enough to do it without my help? You can always find
+something new, surely? Listen, Mr. Marson. I was thrown on my own
+resources about five years ago--never mind how. Since then I have
+worked in a shop, done typewriting, been on the stage, had a
+position as governess, been a lady's maid--"
+
+"A what! A lady's maid?"
+
+"Why not? It was all experience; and I can assure you I would
+much rather be a lady's maid than a governess."
+
+"I think I know what you mean. I was a private tutor once. I
+suppose a governess is the female equivalent. I have often
+wondered what General Sherman would have said about private
+tutoring if he expressed himself so breezily about mere war. Was
+it fun being a lady's maid?"
+
+"It was pretty good fun; and it gave me an opportunity of
+studying the aristocracy in its native haunts, which has made me
+the Gossip's established authority on dukes and earls."
+
+Ashe drew a deep breath--not a scientific deep breath, but one of
+admiration.
+
+"You are perfectly splendid!"
+
+"Splendid?"
+
+"I mean, you have such pluck."
+
+"Oh, well; I keep on trying. I'm twenty-three and I haven't
+achieved anything much yet; but I certainly don't feel like
+sitting back and calling myself a failure."
+
+Ashe made a grimace.
+
+"All right," he said. "I've got it."
+
+"I meant you to," said Joan placidly. "I hope I haven't bored you
+with my autobiography, Mr. Marson. I'm not setting myself up as a
+shining example; but I do like action and hate stagnation."
+
+"You are absolutely wonderful!" said Ashe. "You are a human
+correspondence course in efficiency, one of the ones you see
+advertised in the back pages of the magazines, beginning, 'Young
+man, are you earning enough?' with a picture showing the dead
+beat gazing wistfully at the boss' chair. You would galvanize a
+jellyfish."
+
+"If I have really stimulated you-----"
+
+"I think that was another slam," said Ashe pensively. "Well, I
+deserve it. Yes, you have stimulated me. I feel like a new man.
+It's queer that you should have come to me right on top of
+everything else. I don't remember when I have felt so restless
+and discontented as this morning."
+
+"It's the Spring."
+
+"I suppose it is. I feel like doing something big and
+adventurous."
+
+"Well, do it then. You have a Morning Post on the table. Have you
+read it yet?"
+
+"I glanced at it."
+
+"But you haven't read the advertisement pages? Read them. They
+may contain just the opening you want."
+
+"Well, I'll do it; but my experience of advertisement pages is
+that they are monopolized by philanthropists who want to lend you
+any sum from ten to a hundred thousand pounds on your note of
+hand only. However, I will scan them."
+
+Joan rose and held out her hand.
+
+"Good-by, Mr. Marson. You've got your detective story to write,
+and I have to think out something with a duke in it by to-night;
+so I must be going." She smiled. "We have traveled a good way
+from the point where we started, but I may as well go back to it
+before I leave you. I'm sorry I laughed at you this morning."
+
+Ashe clasped her hand in a fervent grip.
+
+"I'm not. Come and laugh at me whenever you feel like it. I like
+being laughed at. Why, when I started my morning exercises, half
+of London used to come and roll about the sidewalks in
+convulsions. I'm not an attraction any longer and it makes me
+feel lonesome. There are twenty-nine of those Larsen Exercises
+and you saw only part of the first. You have done so much for me
+that if I can be of any use to you, in helping you to greet the
+day with a smile, I shall be only too proud. Exercise Six is a
+sure-fire mirth-provoker; I'll start with it to-morrow morning. I
+can also recommend Exercise Eleven--a scream! Don't miss it."
+
+"Very well. Well, good-by for the present."
+
+"Good-by."
+
+She was gone; and Ashe, thrilling with new emotions, stared at
+the door which had closed behind her. He felt as though he had
+been wakened from sleep by a powerful electric shock.
+
+Close beside the sheet of paper on which he had inscribed the now
+luminous and suggestive title of his new Gridley Quayle story lay
+the Morning Post, the advertisement columns of which he had
+promised her to explore. The least he could do was to begin at
+once.
+
+His spirits sank as he did so. It was the same old game. A Mr.
+Brian MacNeill, though doing no business with minors, was
+willing--even anxious--to part with his vast fortune to anyone
+over the age of twenty-one whose means happened to be a trifle
+straitened. This good man required no security whatever; nor did
+his rivals in generosity, the Messrs. Angus Bruce, Duncan
+Macfarlane, Wallace Mackintosh and Donald MacNab. They, too,
+showed a curious distaste for dealing with minors; but anyone of
+maturer years could simply come round to the office and help
+himself.
+
+Ashe threw the paper down wearily. He had known all along that it
+was no good. Romance was dead and the unexpected no longer
+happened. He picked up his pen and began to write "The Adventure
+of the Wand of Death."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+In a bedroom on the fourth floor of the Hotel Guelph in
+Piccadilly, the Honorable Frederick Threepwood sat in bed, with
+his knees drawn up to his chin, and glared at the day with the
+glare of mental anguish. He had very little mind, but what he had
+was suffering.
+
+He had just remembered. It is like that in this life. You wake
+up, feeling as fit as a fiddle; you look at the window and see
+the sun, and thank Heaven for a fine day; you begin to plan a
+perfectly corking luncheon party with some of the chappies you
+met last night at the National Sporting Club; and then--you
+remember.
+
+"Oh, dash it!" said the Honorable Freddie. And after a moment's
+pause: "And I was feeling so dashed happy!"
+
+For the space of some minutes he remained plunged in sad
+meditation; then, picking up the telephone from the table at his
+side, he asked for a number.
+
+"Hello!"
+
+"Hello!" responded a rich voice at the other end of the wire.
+
+"Oh, I say! Is that you, Dickie?"
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+"This is Freddie Threepwood. I say, Dickie, old top, I want to
+see you about something devilish important. Will you be in at
+twelve?"
+
+"Certainly. What's the trouble?"
+
+"I can't explain over the wire; but it's deuced serious."
+
+"Very well. By the way, Freddie, congratulations on the
+engagement."
+
+"Thanks, old man. Thanks very much, and so on--but you won't
+forget to be in at twelve, will you? Good-by."
+
+He replaced the receiver quickly and sprang out of bed, for he
+had heard the door handle turn. When the door opened he was
+giving a correct representation of a young man wasting no time in
+beginning his toilet for the day.
+
+An elderly, thin-faced, bald-headed, amiably vacant man entered.
+He regarded the Honorable Freddie with a certain disfavor.
+
+"Are you only just getting up, Frederick?"
+
+"Hello, gov'nor. Good morning. I shan't be two ticks now."
+
+"You should have been out and about two hours ago. The day is
+glorious."
+
+"Shan't be more than a minute, gov'nor, now. Just got to have a
+tub and then chuck on a few clothes."
+
+He disappeared into the bathroom. His father, taking a chair,
+placed the tips of his fingers together and in this attitude
+remained motionless, a figure of disapproval and suppressed
+annoyance.
+
+Like many fathers in his rank of life, the Earl of Emsworth had
+suffered much through that problem which, with the exception of
+Mr. Lloyd-George, is practically the only fly in the British
+aristocratic amber--the problem of what to do with the younger
+sons.
+
+It is useless to try to gloss over the fact--in the aristocratic
+families of Great Britain the younger son is not required.
+
+Apart, however, from the fact that he was a younger son, and, as
+such, a nuisance in any case, the honorable Freddie had always
+annoyed his father in a variety of ways. The Earl of Emsworth was
+so constituted that no man or thing really had the power to
+trouble him deeply; but Freddie had come nearer to doing it than
+anybody else in the world. There had been a consistency, a
+perseverance, about his irritating performances that had acted on
+the placid peer as dripping water on a stone. Isolated acts of
+annoyance would have been powerless to ruffle his calm; but
+Freddie had been exploding bombs under his nose since he went to
+Eton.
+
+He had been expelled from Eton for breaking out at night and
+roaming the streets of Windsor in a false mustache. He had been
+sent down from Oxford for pouring ink from a second-story window
+on the junior dean of his college. He had spent two years at an
+expensive London crammer's and failed to pass into the army. He
+had also accumulated an almost record series of racing debts,
+besides as shady a gang of friends--for the most part vaguely
+connected with the turf--as any young man of his age ever
+contrived to collect.
+
+These things try the most placid of parents; and finally Lord
+Emsworth had put his foot down. It was the only occasion in his
+life when he had acted with decision, and he did it with the
+accumulated energy of years. He stopped his son's allowance,
+haled him home to Blandings Castle, and kept him there so
+relentlessly that until the previous night, when they had come up
+together by an afternoon train, Freddie had not seen London for
+nearly a year.
+
+Possibly it was the reflection that, whatever his secret
+troubles, he was at any rate once more in his beloved metropolis
+that caused Freddie at this point to burst into discordant song.
+He splashed and warbled simultaneously.
+
+Lord Emsworth's frown deepened and he began to tap his fingers
+together irritably. Then his brow cleared and a pleased smile
+flickered over his face. He, too, had remembered.
+
+What Lord Emsworth remembered was this: Late in the previous
+autumn the next estate to Blandings had been rented by an
+American, a Mr. Peters--a man with many millions, chronic
+dyspepsia, and one fair daughter--Aline. The two families had
+met. Freddie and Aline had been thrown together; and, only a few
+days before, the engagement had been announced. And for Lord
+Emsworth the only flaw in this best of all possible worlds had
+been removed.
+
+Yes, he was glad Freddie was engaged to be married to Aline
+Peters. He liked Aline. He liked Mr. Peters. Such was the relief
+he experienced that he found himself feeling almost affectionate
+toward Freddie, who emerged from the bathroom at this moment,
+clad in a pink bathrobe, to find the paternal wrath evaporated,
+and all, so to speak, right with the world.
+
+Nevertheless, he wasted no time about his dressing. He was always
+ill at ease in his father's presence and he wished to be
+elsewhere with all possible speed. He sprang into his trousers
+with such energy that he nearly tripped himself up. As he
+disentangled himself he recollected something that had slipped
+his memory.
+
+"By the way, gov'nor, I met an old pal of mine last night and
+asked him down to Blandings this week. That's all right, isn't
+it? He's a man named Emerson, an American. He knows Aline quite
+well, he says--has known her since she was a kid."
+
+"I do not remember any friend of yours named Emerson."
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact, I met him last night for the first
+time. But it's all right. He's a good chap, don't you know!
+--and all that sort of rot."
+
+Lord Emsworth was feeling too benevolent to raise the objections
+he certainly would have raised had his mood been less sunny.
+
+"Certainly; let him come if he wishes."
+
+"Thanks, gov'nor."
+
+Freddie completed his toilet.
+
+"Doing anything special this morning, gov'nor? I rather thought
+of getting a bit of breakfast and then strolling round a bit.
+Have you had breakfast?"
+
+"Two hours ago. I trust that in the course of your strolling you
+will find time to call at Mr. Peters' and see Aline. I shall be
+going there directly after lunch. Mr. Peters wishes to show me
+his collection of--I think scarabs was the word he used."
+
+"Oh, I'll look in all right! Don't you worry! Or if I don't I'll
+call the old boy up on the phone and pass the time of day. Well,
+I rather think I'll be popping off and getting that bit of
+breakfast--what?"
+
+Several comments on this speech suggested themselves to Lord
+Emsworth. In the first place, he did not approve of Freddie's
+allusion to one of America's merchant princes as "the old boy."
+Second, his son's attitude did not strike him as the ideal
+attitude of a young man toward his betrothed. There seemed to be
+a lack of warmth. But, he reflected, possibly this was simply
+another manifestation of the modern spirit; and in any case it
+was not worth bothering about; so he offered no criticism.
+
+Presently, Freddie having given his shoes a flick with a silk
+handkerchief and thrust the latter carefully up his sleeve, they
+passed out and down into the main lobby of the hotel, where they
+parted--Freddie to his bit of breakfast; his father to potter
+about the streets and kill time until luncheon. London was always
+a trial to the Earl of Emsworth. His heart was in the country and
+the city held no fascinations for him.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+On one of the floors in one of the buildings in one of the
+streets that slope precipitously from the Strand to the Thames
+Embankment, there is a door that would be all the better for a
+lick of paint, which bears what is perhaps the most modest and
+unostentatious announcement of its kind in London. The grimy
+ground-glass displays the words:
+
+                  R. JONES
+
+Simply that and nothing more. It is rugged in its simplicity.
+You wonder, as you look at it--if you have time to look at and
+wonder about these things--who this Jones may be; and what is the
+business he conducts with such coy reticence.
+
+As a matter of fact, these speculations had passed through
+suspicious minds at Scotland Yard, which had for some time taken
+not a little interest in R. Jones. But beyond ascertaining that
+he bought and sold curios, did a certain amount of bookmaking
+during the flat-racing season, and had been known to lend money,
+Scotland Yard did not find out much about Mr. Jones and presently
+dismissed him from its thoughts.
+
+On the theory, given to the world by William Shakespeare, that it
+is the lean and hungry-looking men who are dangerous, and that
+the "fat, sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights," are
+harmless, R. Jones should have been above suspicion. He was
+infinitely the fattest man in the west-central postal district of
+London. He was a round ball of a man, who wheezed when he walked
+upstairs, which was seldom, and shook like jelly if some tactless
+friend, wishing to attract his attention, tapped him unexpectedly
+on the shoulder. But this occurred still less frequently than his
+walking upstairs; for in R. Jones' circle it was recognized that
+nothing is a greater breach of etiquette and worse form than to
+tap people unexpectedly on the shoulder. That, it was felt,
+should be left to those who are paid by the government to do it.
+
+R. Jones was about fifty years old, gray-haired, of a mauve
+complexion, jovial among his friends, and perhaps even more
+jovial with chance acquaintances. It was estimated by envious
+intimates that his joviality with chance acquaintances, specially
+with young men of the upper classes, with large purses and small
+foreheads--was worth hundreds of pounds a year to him. There was
+something about his comfortable appearance and his jolly manner
+that irresistibly attracted a certain type of young man. It was
+his good fortune that this type of young man should be the type
+financially most worth attracting.
+
+Freddie Threepwood had fallen under his spell during his short
+but crowded life in London. They had met for the first time at
+the Derby; and ever since then R. Jones had held in Freddie's
+estimation that position of guide, philosopher and friend which
+he held in the estimation of so many young men of Freddie's
+stamp.
+
+That was why, at twelve o'clock punctually on this Spring day, he
+tapped with his cane on R. Jones' ground glass, and showed such
+satisfaction and relief when the door was opened by the
+proprietor in person.
+
+"Well, well, well!" said R. Jones rollickingly. "Whom have we
+here? The dashing bridegroom-to-be, and no other!"
+
+R. Jones, like Lord Emsworth, was delighted that Freddie was
+about to marry a nice girl with plenty of money. The sudden
+turning off of the tap from which Freddie's allowance had flowed
+had hit him hard. He had other sources of income, of course; but
+few so easy and unfailing as Freddie had been in the days of his
+prosperity.
+
+"The prodigal son, by George! Creeping back into the fold after
+all this weary time! It seems years since I saw you, Freddie.
+The old gov'nor put his foot down--didn't he?--and stopped the
+funds. Damned shame! I take it that things have loosened up a bit
+since the engagement was announced--eh?"
+
+Freddie sat down and chewed the knob of his cane unhappily.
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact, Dickie, old top," he said, "not so
+that you could notice it, don't you know! Things are still pretty
+much the same. I managed to get away from Blandings for a night,
+because the gov'nor had to come to London; but I've got to go
+back with him on the three-o'clock train. And, as for money, I
+can't get a quid out of him. As a matter of fact, I'm in the
+deuce of a hole; and that's why I've come to you."
+
+Even fat, jovial men have their moments of depression. R. Jones'
+face clouded, and jerky remarks about hardness of times and
+losses on the Stock Exchange began to proceed from him. As
+Scotland Yard had discovered, he lent money on occasion; but he
+did not lend it to youths in Freddie's unfortunate position.
+
+"Oh, I don't want to make a touch, you know," Freddie hastened to
+explain. "It isn't that. As a matter of fact, I managed to raise
+five hundred of the best this morning. That ought to be enough."
+
+"Depends on what you want it for," said R. Jones, magically genial
+once more.
+
+The thought entered his mind, as it had so often, that the world
+was full of easy marks. He wished he could meet the money-lender
+who had been rash enough to advance the Honorable Freddie five
+hundred pounds. Those philanthropists cross our path too seldom.
+
+Freddie felt in his pocket, produced a cigarette case, and from
+it extracted a newspaper clipping.
+
+"Did you read about poor old Percy in the papers? The case, you
+know?"
+
+"Percy?"
+
+"Lord Stockheath, you know."
+
+"Oh, the Stockheath breach-of-promise case? I did more than that.
+I was in court all three days." R. Jones emitted a cozy chuckle.
+"Is he a pal of yours? A cousin, eh? I wish you had seen him in
+the witness box, with Jellicoe-Smith cross-examining him! The
+funniest thing I ever heard! And his letters to the girl! They
+read them out in court; and of all--"
+
+"Don't, old man! Dickie, old top--please! I know all about it. I
+read the reports. They made poor old Percy look like an absolute
+ass."
+
+"Well, Nature had done that already; but I'm bound to say they
+improved on Nature's work. I should think your Cousin Percy must
+have felt like a plucked chicken."
+
+A spasm of pain passed over the Honorable Freddie's vacant face.
+He wriggled in his chair.
+
+"Dickie, old man, I wish you wouldn't talk like that. It makes me
+feel ill."
+
+"Why, is he such a pal of yours as all that?"
+
+"It's not that. It's--the fact is, Dickie, old top, I'm in
+exactly the same bally hole as poor old Percy was, myself!"
+
+"What! You have been sued for breach of promise?"
+
+"Not absolutely that--yet. Look here; I'll tell you the whole
+thing. Do you remember a show at the Piccadilly about a year ago
+called "The Baby Doll"? There was a girl in the chorus."
+
+"Several--I remember noticing."
+
+"No; I mean one particular girl--a girl called Joan Valentine.
+The rotten part is that I never met her."
+
+"Pull yourself together, Freddie. What exactly is the trouble?"
+
+"Well--don't you see?--I used to go to the show every other
+night, and I fell frightfully in love with this girl--"
+
+"Without having met her?"
+
+"Yes. You see, I was rather an ass in those days."
+
+"No, no!" said R. Jones handsomely.
+
+"I must have been or I shouldn't have been such an ass, don't you
+know! Well, as I was saying, I used to write this girl letters,
+saying how much I was in love with her; and--and--"
+
+"Specifically proposing marriage?"
+
+"I can't remember. I expect I did. I was awfully in love."
+
+"How was that if you never met her?"
+
+"She wouldn't meet me. She wouldn't even come out to luncheon.
+She didn't even answer my letters--just sent word down by the
+Johnny at the stage door. And then----"
+
+Freddie's voice died away. He thrust the knob of his cane into
+his mouth in a sort of frenzy.
+
+"What then?" inquired R. Jones.
+
+A scarlet blush manifested itself on Freddie's young face. His
+eyes wandered sidewise. After a long pause a single word escaped
+him, almost inaudible:
+
+"Poetry!"
+
+R. Jones trembled as though an electric current had been passed
+through his plump frame. His little eyes sparkled with merriment.
+
+"You wrote her poetry!"
+
+"Yards of it, old boy--yards of it!" groaned Freddie. Panic
+filled him with speech. "You see the frightful hole I'm in? This
+girl is bound to have kept the letters. I don't remember whether
+I actually proposed to her or not; but anyway she's got enough
+material to make it worth while to have a dash at an
+action--especially after poor old Percy has just got soaked for
+such a pile of money and made breach-of-promise cases the
+fashion, so to speak.
+
+"And now that the announcement of my engagement is out she's
+certain to get busy. Probably she has been waiting for something
+of the sort. Don't you see that all the cards are in her hands?
+We couldn't afford to let the thing come into court. That poetry
+would dish my marriage for a certainty. I'd have to emigrate or
+something! Goodness knows what would happen at home! My old
+gov'nor would murder me! So you see what a frightful hole I'm in,
+don't you, Dickie, old man?"
+
+"And what do you want me to do?"
+
+"Why, to get hold of this girl and get back the letters--don't
+you see? I can't do it myself, cooped up miles away in the
+country. And besides, I shouldn't know how to handle a thing
+like that. It needs a chappie with a lot of sense and a
+persuasive sort of way with him."
+
+"Thanks for the compliment, Freddie; but I should imagine that
+something a little more solid than a persuasive way would be
+required in a case like this. You said something a while ago
+about five hundred pounds?"
+
+"Here it is, old man--in notes. I brought it on purpose. Will you
+really take the thing on? Do you think you can work it for five
+hundred?"
+
+"I can have a try."
+
+Freddie rose, with an expression approximating to happiness on
+his face. Some men have the power of inspiring confidence in some
+of their fellows, though they fill others with distrust. Scotland
+Yard might look askance at R. Jones, but to Freddie he was all
+that was helpful and reliable. He shook R. Jones' hand several
+times in his emotion.
+
+"That's absolutely topping of you, old man!" he said. "Then I'll
+leave the whole thing to you. Write me the moment you have done
+anything, won't you? Good-by, old top, and thanks ever so much!"
+
+The door closed. R. Jones remained where he sat, his fingers
+straying luxuriously among the crackling paper. A feeling of
+complete happiness warmed R. Jones' bosom. He was uncertain
+whether or not his mission would be successful; and to be
+truthful he was not letting that worry him much. What he was
+certain of was the fact that the heavens had opened unexpectedly
+and dropped five hundred pounds into his lap.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+The Earl of Emsworth stood in the doorway of the Senior
+Conservative Club's vast diningroom, and beamed with a vague
+sweetness on the two hundred or so Senior Conservatives who, with
+much clattering of knives and forks, were keeping body and soul
+together by means of the coffee-room luncheon. He might have been
+posing for a statue of Amiability. His pale blue eyes shone with
+a friendly light through their protecting glasses; the smile of a
+man at peace with all men curved his weak mouth; his bald head,
+reflecting the sunlight, seemed almost to wear a halo.
+
+Nobody appeared to notice him. He so seldom came to London these
+days that he was practically a stranger in the club; and in any
+case your Senior Conservative, when at lunch, has little leisure
+for observing anything not immediately on the table in front of
+him. To attract attention in the dining-room of the Senior
+Conservative Club between the hours of one and two-thirty, you
+have to be a mutton chop--not an earl.
+
+It is possible that, lacking the initiative to make his way down
+the long aisle and find a table for himself, he might have stood
+there indefinitely, but for the restless activity of Adams, the
+head steward. It was Adams' mission in life to flit to and fro,
+hauling would-be lunchers to their destinations, as a St. Bernard
+dog hauls travelers out of Alpine snowdrifts. He sighted Lord
+Emsworth and secured him with a genteel pounce.
+
+"A table, your lordship? This way, your lordship." Adams
+remembered him, of course. Adams remembered everybody.
+
+Lord Emsworth followed him beamingly and presently came to anchor
+at a table in the farther end of the room. Adams handed him the
+bill of fare and stood brooding over him like a providence.
+
+"Don't often see your lordship in the club," he opened chattily.
+
+It was business to know the tastes and dispositions of all the
+five thousand or so members of the Senior Conservative Club and
+to suit his demeanor to them. To some he would hand the bill of
+fare swiftly, silently, almost brusquely, as one who realizes
+that there are moments in life too serious for talk. Others, he
+knew, liked conversation; and to those he introduced the subject
+of food almost as a sub-motive.
+
+Lord Emsworth, having examined the bill of fare with a mild
+curiosity, laid it down and became conversational.
+
+"No, Adams; I seldom visit London nowadays. London does not
+attract me. The country--the fields--the woods--the birds----"
+
+Something across the room seemed to attract his attention and his
+voice trailed off. He inspected this for some time with bland
+interest, then turned to Adams once more.
+
+"What was I saying, Adams?"
+
+"The birds, your lordship."
+
+"Birds! What birds? What about birds?"
+
+"You were speaking of the attractions of life in the country,
+your lordship. You included the birds in your remarks."
+
+"Oh, yes, yes, yes! Oh, yes, yes! Oh, yes--to be sure. Do you
+ever go to the country, Adams?"
+
+"Generally to the seashore, your lordship--when I take my annual
+vacation."
+
+Whatever was the attraction across the room once more exercised
+its spell. His lordship concentrated himself on it to the
+exclusion of all other mundane matters. Presently he came out of
+his trance again.
+
+"What were you saying, Adams?"
+
+"I said that I generally went to the seashore, your lordship."
+
+"Eh? When?"
+
+"For my annual vacation, your lordship."
+
+"Your what?"
+
+"My annual vacation, your lordship."
+
+"What about it?"
+
+Adams never smiled during business hours--unless professionally,
+as it were, when a member made a joke; but he was storing up in
+the recesses of his highly respectable body a large laugh, to be
+shared with his wife when he reached home that night. Mrs. Adams
+never wearied of hearing of the eccentricities of the members of
+the club. It occurred to Adams that he was in luck to-day. He was
+expecting a little party of friends to supper that night, and he
+was a man who loved an audience.
+
+You would never have thought it, to look at him when engaged in
+his professional duties, but Adams had built up a substantial
+reputation as a humorist in his circle by his imitations of
+certain members of the club; and it was a matter of regret to him
+that he got so few opportunities nowadays of studying the
+absent-minded Lord Emsworth. It was rare luck--his lordship
+coming in to-day, evidently in his best form.
+
+"Adams, who is the gentleman over by the window--the gentleman in
+the brown suit?"
+
+"That is Mr. Simmonds, your lordship. He joined us last year."
+
+"I never saw a man take such large mouthfuls. Did you ever see a
+man take such large mouthfuls, Adams?"
+
+Adams refrained from expressing an opinion, but inwardly he was
+thrilling with artistic fervor. Mr. Simmonds eating, was one of
+his best imitations, though Mrs. Adams was inclined to object to
+it on the score that it was a bad example for the children. To be
+privileged to witness Lord Emsworth watching and criticizing Mr.
+Simmonds was to collect material for a double-barreled character
+study that would assuredly make the hit of the evening.
+
+"That man," went on Lord Emsworth, "is digging his grave with his
+teeth. Digging his grave with his teeth, Adams! Do you take large
+mouthfuls, Adams?"
+
+"No, your lordship."
+
+"Quite right. Very sensible of you, Adams--very sensible of you.
+Very sen---- What was I saying, Adams?"
+
+"About my not taking large mouthfuls, your lordship."
+
+"Quite right--quite right! Never take large mouthfuls, Adams.
+Never gobble. Have you any children, Adams?"
+
+"Two, your lordship."
+
+"I hope you teach them not to gobble. They pay for it in later
+life. Americans gobble when young and ruin their digestions. My
+American friend, Mr. Peters, suffers terribly from indigestion."
+
+Adams lowered his voice to a confidential murmur: "If you will
+pardon the liberty, your lordship--I saw it in the paper--"
+
+"About Mr. Peters' indigestion?"
+
+"About Miss Peters, your lordship, and the Honorable Frederick.
+May I be permitted to offer my congratulations?"
+
+"Eh, Oh, yes--the engagement. Yes, yes, yes! Yes--to be sure.
+Yes; very satisfactory in every respect. High time he settled
+down and got a little sense. I put it to him straight. I cut off
+his allowance and made him stay at home. That made him
+think--lazy young devil!"
+
+Lord Emsworth had his lucid moments; and in the one that occurred
+now it came home to him that he was not talking to himself, as he
+had imagined, but confiding intimate family secrets to the head
+steward of his club's dining-room. He checked himself abruptly,
+and with a slight decrease of amiability fixed his gaze on the
+bill of fare and ordered cold beef. For an instant he felt
+resentful against Adams for luring him on to soliloquize; but the
+next moment his whole mind was gripped by the fascinating
+spectacle of Mr. Simmonds dealing with a wedge of Stilton cheese,
+and Adams was forgotten.
+
+The cold beef had the effect of restoring his lordship to
+complete amiability, and when Adams in the course of his
+wanderings again found himself at the table he was once more
+disposed for light conversation.
+
+"So you saw the news of the engagement in the paper, did you,
+Adams?"
+
+"Yes, your lordship, in the Mail. It had quite a long piece about
+it. And the Honorable Frederick's photograph and the young lady's
+were in the Mirror. Mrs. Adams clipped them out and put them in
+an album, knowing that your lordship was a member of ours. If I
+may say so, your lordship--a beautiful young lady."
+
+"Devilish attractive, Adams--and devilish rich. Mr. Peters is a
+millionaire, Adams."
+
+"So I read in the paper, your lordship."
+
+"Damme! They all seem to be millionaires in America. Wish I knew
+how they managed it. Honestly, I hope. Mr. Peters is an honest
+man, but his digestion is bad. He used to bolt his food. You
+don't bolt your food, I hope, Adams?"
+
+"No, your lordship; I am most careful."
+
+"The late Mr. Gladstone used to chew each mouthful thirty-three
+times. Deuced good notion if you aren't in a hurry. What cheese
+would you recommend, Adams?"
+
+"The gentlemen are speaking well of the Gorgonzola."
+
+"All right, bring me some. You know, Adams, what I admire about
+Americans is their resource. Mr. Peters tells me that as a boy of
+eleven he earned twenty dollars a week selling mint to saloon
+keepers, as they call publicans over there. Why they wanted mint
+I cannot recollect. Mr. Peters explained the reason to me and it
+seemed highly plausible at the time; but I have forgotten it.
+Possibly for mint sauce. It impressed me, Adams. Twenty dollars
+is four pounds. I never earned four pounds a week when I was a
+boy of eleven; in fact, I don't think I ever earned four pounds a
+week. His story impressed me, Adams. Every man ought to have an
+earning capacity. I was so struck with what he told me that I
+began to paint."
+
+"Landscapes, your lordship?"
+
+"Furniture. It is unlikely that I shall ever be compelled to
+paint furniture for a living, but it is a consolation to me to
+feel that I could do so if called on. There is a fascination
+about painting furniture, Adams. I have painted the whole of my
+bedroom at Blandings and am now engaged on the museum. You would
+be surprised at the fascination of it. It suddenly came back to
+me the other day that I had been inwardly longing to mess about
+with paints and things since I was a boy. They stopped me when I
+was a boy. I recollect my old father beating me with a walking
+stick--Tell me, Adams, have I eaten my cheese?"
+
+"Not yet, your lordship. I was about to send the waiter for it."
+
+"Never mind. Tell him to bring the bill instead. I remember that
+I have an appointment. I must not be late."
+
+"Shall I take the fork, your lordship?"
+
+"The fork?"
+
+"Your lordship has inadvertently put a fork in your coat pocket."
+
+Lord Emsworth felt in the pocket indicated, and with the air of
+an inexpert conjurer whose trick has succeeded contrary to his
+expectations produced a silver-plated fork. He regarded it with
+surprise; then he looked wonderingly at Adams.
+
+"Adams, I'm getting absent-minded. Have you ever noticed any
+traces of absent-mindedness in me before?"
+
+"Oh, no, your lordship."
+
+"Well, it's deuced peculiar! I have no recollection whatsoever of
+placing that fork in my pocket . . . Adams, I want a taxicab." He
+glanced round the room, as though expecting to locate one by the
+fireplace.
+
+"The hall porter will whistle one for you, your lordship."
+
+"So he will, by George!--so he will! Good day, Adams."
+
+"Good day, your lordship."
+
+The Earl of Emsworth ambled benevolently to the door, leaving
+Adams with the feeling that his day had been well-spent. He gazed
+almost with reverence after the slow-moving figure.
+
+"What a nut!" said Adams to his immortal soul.
+
+Wafted through the sunlit streets in his taxicab, the Earl of
+Emsworth smiled benevolently on London's teeming millions. He was
+as completely happy as only a fluffy-minded old man with
+excellent health and a large income can be. Other people worried
+about all sorts of things--strikes, wars, suffragettes, the
+diminishing birth rate, the growing materialism of the age, a
+score of similar subjects.
+
+Worrying, indeed, seemed to be the twentieth-century specialty.
+Lord Emsworth never worried. Nature had equipped him with a mind
+so admirably constructed for withstanding the disagreeableness of
+life that if an unpleasant thought entered it, it passed out
+again a moment later. Except for a few of life's fundamental
+facts, such as that his check book was in the right-hand top
+drawer of his desk; that the Honorable Freddie Threepwood was a
+young idiot who required perpetual restraint; and that when in
+doubt about anything he had merely to apply to his secretary,
+Rupert Baxter--except for these basic things, he never remembered
+anything for more than a few minutes.
+
+At Eton, in the sixties, they had called him Fathead.
+
+His was a life that lacked, perhaps, the sublimer emotions which
+raise man to the level of the gods; but undeniably it was an
+extremely happy one. He never experienced the thrill of ambition
+fulfilled; but, on the other hand, he never knew the agony of
+ambition frustrated. His name, when he died, would not live
+forever in England's annals; he was spared the pain of worrying
+about this by the fact that he had no desire to live forever in
+England's annals. He was possibly as nearly contented as a human
+being could be in this century of alarms and excursions.
+
+Indeed, as he bowled along in his cab and reflected that a really
+charming girl, not in the chorus of any West End theater, a girl
+with plenty of money and excellent breeding, had--in a moment,
+doubtless, of mental aberration--become engaged to be married to
+the Honorable Freddie, he told himself that life at last was
+absolutely without a crumpled rose leaf.
+
+The cab drew up before a house gay with flowered window boxes.
+Lord Emsworth paid the driver and stood on the sidewalk looking
+up at this cheerful house, trying to remember why on earth he had
+told the man to drive there.
+
+A few moments' steady thought gave him the answer to the riddle.
+This was Mr. Peters' town house, and he had come to it by
+invitation to look at Mr. Peters' collection of scarabs. To be
+sure! He remembered now--his collection of scarabs. Or was it
+Arabs?
+
+Lord Emsworth smiled. Scarabs, of course. You couldn't collect
+Arabs. He wondered idly, as he rang the bell, what scarabs might
+be; but he was interested in a fluffy kind of way in all forms of
+collecting, and he was very pleased to have the opportunity of
+examining these objects; whatever they were. He rather thought
+they were a kind of fish.
+
+There are men in this world who cannot rest; who are so
+constituted that they can only take their leisure in the shape of
+a change of work. To this fairly numerous class belonged Mr. J.
+Preston Peters, father of Freddie's Aline. And to this merit--or
+defect--is to be attributed his almost maniacal devotion to that
+rather unattractive species of curio, the Egyptian scarab.
+
+Five years before, a nervous breakdown had sent Mr. Peters to a
+New York specialist. The specialist had grown rich on similar
+cases and his advice was always the same. He insisted on Mr.
+Peters taking up a hobby.
+
+"What sort of a hobby?" inquired Mr. Peters irritably. His
+digestion had just begun to trouble him at the time, and his
+temper now was not of the best.
+
+"Now my hobby," said the specialist, "is the collecting of
+scarabs. Why should you not collect scarabs?"
+
+"Because," said Mr. Peters, "I shouldn't know one if you brought
+it to me on a plate. What are scarabs?"
+
+"Scarabs," said the specialist, warming to his subject, "the
+Egyptian hieroglyphs."
+
+"And what," inquired Mr. Peters, "are Egyptian hieroglyphs?"
+
+The specialist began to wonder whether it would not have been
+better to advise Mr. Peters to collect postage stamps.
+
+"A scarab," he said--"derived from the Latin scarabeus--is
+literally a beetle."
+
+"I will not collect beetles!" said Mr. Peters definitely. "They
+give me the Willies."
+
+"Scarabs are Egyptian symbols in the form of beetles," the
+specialist hurried on. "The most common form of scarab is in the
+shape of a ring. Scarabs were used for seals. They were also
+employed as beads or ornaments. Some scarabaei bear inscriptions
+having reference to places; as, for instance: 'Memphis is mighty
+forever.'"
+
+Mr. Peters' scorn changed to active interest.
+
+"Have you got one like that?"
+
+"Like what?"
+
+"A scarab boosting Memphis. It's my home town."
+
+"I think it possible that some other Memphis was alluded to."
+
+"There isn't any other except the one in Tennessee," said Mr.
+Peters patriotically.
+
+The specialist owed the fact that he was a nerve doctor instead
+of a nerve patient to his habit of never arguing with his
+visitors.
+
+"Perhaps," he said, "you would care to glance at my collection.
+It is in the next room."
+
+That was the beginning of Mr. Peters' devotion to scarabs. At
+first he did his collecting without any love of it, partly
+because he had to collect something or suffer, but principally
+because of a remark the specialist made as he was leaving the
+room.
+
+"How long would it take me to get together that number of the
+things?" Mr. Peters inquired, when, having looked his fill on the
+dullest assortment of objects he remembered ever to have seen, he
+was preparing to take his leave.
+
+The specialist was proud of his collection. "How long? To make a
+collection as large as mine? Years, Mr. Peters. Oh, many, many
+years."
+
+"I'll bet you a hundred dollars I'll do it in six months!"
+
+From that moment Mr. Peters brought to the collecting of scarabs
+the same furious energy which had given him so many dollars and
+so much indigestion. He went after scarabs like a dog after rats.
+He scooped in scarabs from the four corners of the earth, until
+at the end of a year he found himself possessed of what, purely
+as regarded quantity, was a record collection.
+
+This marked the end of the first phase of--so to speak--the
+scarabaean side of his life. Collecting had become a habit with
+him, but he was not yet a real enthusiast. It occurred to him
+that the time had arrived for a certain amount of pruning and
+elimination. He called in an expert and bade him go through the
+collection and weed out what he felicitously termed the "dead
+ones." The expert did his job thoroughly. When he had finished,
+the collection was reduced to a mere dozen specimens.
+
+"The rest," he explained, "are practically valueless. If you are
+thinking of making a collection that will have any value in the
+eyes of archeologists I should advise you to throw them away. The
+remaining twelve are good."
+
+"How do you mean--good? Why is one of these things valuable and
+another so much punk? They all look alike to me."
+
+And then the expert talked to Mr. Peters for nearly two hours
+about the New Kingdom, the Middle Kingdom, Osiris, Ammon, Mut,
+Bubastis, dynasties, Cheops, the Hyksos kings, cylinders, bezels,
+Amenophis III, Queen Taia, the Princess Gilukhipa of Mitanni, the
+lake of Zarukhe, Naucratis, and the Book of the Dead. He did it
+with a relish. He liked to do it.
+
+When he had finished, Mr. Peters thanked him and went to the
+bathroom, where he bathed his temples with eau de Cologne.
+
+That talk changed J. Preston Peters from a supercilious
+scooper-up of random scarabs to what might be called a genuine
+scarab fan. It does not matter what a man collects; if Nature has
+given him the collector's mind he will become a fanatic on the
+subject of whatever collection he sets out to make. Mr. Peters
+had collected dollars; he began to collect scarabs with precisely
+the same enthusiasm. He would have become just as enthusiastic
+about butterflies or old china if he had turned his thoughts to
+them; but it chanced that what he had taken up was the collecting
+of the scarab, and it gripped him more and more as the years went
+on.
+
+Gradually he came to love his scarabs with that love, surpassing
+the love of women, which only collectors know. He became an
+expert on those curious relics of a dead civilization. For a time
+they ran neck and neck in his thoughts with business. When he
+retired from business he was free to make them the master passion
+of his life. He treasured each individual scarab in his
+collection as a miser treasures gold.
+
+Collecting, as Mr. Peters did it, resembles the drink habit. It
+begins as an amusement and ends as an obsession. He was gloating
+over his treasures when the maid announced Lord Emsworth.
+
+A curious species of mutual toleration--it could hardly be
+dignified by the title of friendship--had sprung up between these
+two men, so opposite in practically every respect. Each regarded
+the other with that feeling of perpetual amazement with which we
+encounter those whose whole viewpoint and mode of life is foreign
+to our own.
+
+The American's force and nervous energy fascinated Lord Emsworth.
+As for Mr. Peters, nothing like the earl had ever happened to him
+before in a long and varied life. Each, in fact, was to the other
+a perpetual freak show, with no charge for admission. And if
+anything had been needed to cement the alliance it would have
+been supplied by the fact that they were both collectors.
+
+They differed in collecting as they did in everything else. Mr.
+Peters' collecting, as has been shown, was keen, furious,
+concentrated; Lord Emsworth's had the amiable dodderingness that
+marked every branch of his life. In the museum at Blandings
+Castle you could find every manner of valuable and valueless
+curio. There was no central motive; the place was simply an
+amateur junk shop. Side by side with a Gutenberg Bible for which
+rival collectors would have bidden without a limit, you would
+come on a bullet from the field of Waterloo, one of a consignment
+of ten thousand shipped there for the use of tourists by a
+Birmingham firm. Each was equally attractive to its owner.
+
+"My dear Mr. Peters," said Lord Emsworth sunnily, advancing into
+the room, "I trust I am not unpunctual. I have been lunching at
+my club."
+
+"I'd have asked you to lunch here," said Mr. Peters, "but you
+know how it is with me . . . I've promised the doctor I'll give
+those nuts and grasses of his a fair trial, and I can do it
+pretty well when I'm alone with Aline; but to have to sit by and
+see somebody else eating real food would be trying me too high."
+
+Lord Emsworth murmured sympathetically. The other's digestive
+tribulations touched a ready chord. An excellent trencherman
+himself, he understood what Mr. Peters must suffer.
+
+"Too bad!" he said.
+
+Mr. Peters turned the conversation into other channels.
+
+"These are my scarabs," he said.
+
+Lord Emsworth adjusted his glasses, and the mild smile
+disappeared from his face, to be succeeded by a set look. A stage
+director of a moving-picture firm would have recognized the look.
+Lord Emsworth was registering interest--interest which he
+perceived from the first instant would have to be completely
+simulated; for instinct told him, as Mr. Peters began to talk,
+that he was about to be bored as he had seldom been bored in his
+life.
+
+Mr. Peters, in his character of showman, threw himself into his
+work with even more than his customary energy. His flow of speech
+never faltered. He spoke of the New Kingdom, the Middle Kingdom,
+Osiris and Ammon; waxed eloquent concerning Mut, Bubastis,
+Cheops, the Hyksos kings, cylinders, bezels and Amenophis III;
+and became at times almost lyrical when touching on Queen Taia,
+the Princess Gilukhipa of Mitanni, the lake of Zarukhe, Naucratis
+and the Book of the Dead. Time slid by.
+
+"Take a look at this, Lord Emsworth."
+
+As one who, brooding on love or running over business projects in
+his mind, walks briskly into a lamppost and comes back to the
+realities of life with a sense of jarring shock, Lord Emsworth
+started, blinked and returned to consciousness. Far away his mind
+had been--seventy miles away--in the pleasant hothouses and shady
+garden walks of Blandings Castle. He came back to London to find
+that his host, with a mingled air of pride and reverence, was
+extending toward him a small, dingy-looking something.
+
+He took it and looked at it. That, apparently, was what he was
+meant to do. So far, all was well.
+
+"Ah!" he said--that blessed word; covering everything! He
+repeated it, pleased at his ready resource.
+
+"A Cheops of the Fourth Dynasty," said Mr. Peters fervently.
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"A Cheops--of the Fourth Dynasty."
+
+Lord Emsworth began to feel like a hunted stag. He could not go
+on saying "Ah!" indefinitely; yet what else was there to say to
+this curious little beastly sort of a beetle kind of thing?
+
+"Dear me! A Cheops!"
+
+"Of the Fourth Dynasty!"
+
+"Bless my soul! The Fourth Dynasty!"
+
+"What do you think of that--eh?"
+
+Strictly speaking, Lord Emsworth thought nothing of it; and he
+was wondering how to veil this opinion in diplomatic words, when
+the providence that looks after all good men saved him by causing
+a knock at the door to occur. In response to Mr. Peters'
+irritated cry a maid entered.
+
+"If you please, sir, Mr. Threepwood wishes to speak with you on
+the telephone."
+
+Mr. Peters turned to his guest. "Excuse me for one moment."
+
+"Certainly," said Lord Emsworth gratefully. "Certainly,
+certainly, certainly! By all means."
+
+The door closed behind Mr. Peters. Lord Emsworth was alone. For
+some moments he stood where he had been left, a figure with small
+signs of alertness about it. But Mr. Peters did not return
+immediately. The booming of his voice came faintly from some
+distant region. Lord Emsworth strolled to the window and looked
+out.
+
+The sun still shone brightly on the quiet street. Across the road
+were trees. Lord Emsworth was fond of trees; he looked at these
+approvingly. Then round the corner came a vagrom man, wheeling
+flowers in a barrow.
+
+Flowers! Lord Emsworth's mind shot back to Blandings like a
+homing pigeon. Flowers! Had he or had he not given Head Gardener
+Thorne adequate instructions as to what to do with those
+hydrangeas? Assuming that he had not, was Thorne to be depended
+on to do the right thing by them by the light of his own
+intelligence? Lord Emsworth began to brood on Head Gardener
+Thorne.
+
+He was aware of some curious little object in his hand. He
+accorded it a momentary inspection. It had no message for him.
+It was probably something; but he could not remember what. He put
+it in his pocket and returned to his meditations.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+At about the hour when the Earl of Emsworth was driving to keep
+his appointment with Mr. Peters, a party of two sat at a corner
+table at Simpson's Restaurant, in the Strand. One of the two was
+a small, pretty, good-natured-looking girl of about twenty; the
+other, a thick-set young man, with a wiry crop of red-brown hair
+and an expression of mingled devotion and determination. The girl
+was Aline Peters; the young man's name was George Emerson. He,
+also, was an American, a rising member in a New York law firm. He
+had a strong, square face, with a dogged and persevering chin.
+
+There are all sorts of restaurants in London, from the restaurant
+which makes you fancy you are in Paris to the restaurant which
+makes you wish you were. There are palaces in Piccadilly, quaint
+lethal chambers in Soho, and strange food factories in Oxford
+Street and Tottenham Court Road. There are restaurants which
+specialize in ptomaine and restaurants which specialize in
+sinister vegetable messes. But there is only one Simpson's.
+
+Simpson's, in the Strand, is unique. Here, if he wishes, the
+Briton may for the small sum of half a dollar stupefy himself
+with food. The god of fatted plenty has the place under his
+protection. Its keynote is solid comfort.
+
+It is a pleasant, soothing, hearty place--a restful temple of
+food. No strident orchestra forces the diner to bolt beef in
+ragtime. No long central aisle distracts his attention with its
+stream of new arrivals. There he sits, alone with his food, while
+white-robed priests, wheeling their smoking trucks, move to and
+fro, ever ready with fresh supplies.
+
+All round the room--some at small tables, some at large tables
+--the worshipers sit, in their eyes that resolute, concentrated
+look which is the peculiar property of the British luncher,
+ex-President Roosevelt's man-eating fish, and the American army
+worm.
+
+Conversation does not flourish at Simpson's. Only two of all
+those present on this occasion showed any disposition toward
+chattiness. They were Aline Peters and her escort.
+
+"The girl you ought to marry," Aline was saying, "is Joan
+Valentine."
+
+"The girl I am going to marry," said George Emerson, "is Aline
+Peters."
+
+For answer, Aline picked up from the floor beside her an
+illustrated paper and, having opened it at a page toward the end,
+handed it across the table.
+
+George Emerson glanced at it disdainfully. There were two
+photographs on the page. One was of Aline; the other of a heavy,
+loutish-looking youth, who wore that expression of pained
+glassiness which Young England always adopts in the face of a
+camera.
+
+Under one photograph were printed the words: "Miss Aline Peters,
+who is to marry the Honorable Frederick Threepwood in June";
+under the other: "The Honorable Frederick Threepwood, who is to
+marry Miss Aline Peters in June." Above the photographs was the
+legend: "Forthcoming International Wedding. Son of the Earl of
+Emsworth to marry American heiress." In one corner of the picture
+a Cupid, draped in the Stars and Stripes, aimed his bow at the
+gentleman; in the other another Cupid, clad in a natty Union
+Jack, was drawing a bead on the lady.
+
+The subeditor had done his work well. He had not been ambiguous.
+What he intended to convey to the reader was that Miss Aline
+Peters, of America, was going to marry the Honorable Frederick
+Threepwood, son of the Earl of Emsworth; and that was exactly the
+impression the average reader got.
+
+George Emerson, however, was not an average reader. The
+subeditor's work did not impress him.
+
+"You mustn't believe everything you see in the papers," he said.
+"What are the stout children in the one-piece bathing suits
+supposed to be doing?"
+
+"Those are Cupids, George, aiming at us with their little bow--
+a pretty and original idea."
+
+"Why Cupids?"
+
+"Cupid is the god of love."
+
+"What has the god of love got to do with it?"
+
+Aline placidly devoured a fried potato. "You're simply trying to
+make me angry," she said; "and I call it very mean of you. You
+know perfectly well how fatal it is to get angry at meals. It was
+eating while he was in a bad temper that ruined father's
+digestion. George, that nice, fat carver is wheeling his truck
+this way. Flag him and make him give me some more of that
+mutton."
+
+George looked round him morosely.
+
+"This," he said, "is England--this restaurant, I mean. You don't
+need to go any farther. Just take a good look at this place and
+you have seen the whole country and can go home again. You may
+judge a country by its meals. A people with imagination will eat
+with imagination. Look at the French; look at ourselves. The
+Englishman loathes imagination. He goes to a place like this and
+says: 'Don't bother me to think. Here's half a dollar. Give me
+food--any sort of food--until I tell you to stop.' And that's the
+principle on which he lives his life. 'Give me anything, and
+don't bother me!' That's his motto."
+
+"If that was meant to apply to Freddie and me, I think you're
+very rude. Do you mean that any girl would have done for him, so
+long as it was a girl?"
+
+George Emerson showed a trace of confusion. Being honest with
+himself, he had to admit that he did not exactly know what he did
+mean--if he meant anything. That, he felt rather bitterly, was
+the worst of Aline. She would never let a fellow's good things go
+purely as good things; she probed and questioned and spoiled the
+whole effect. He was quite sure that when he began to speak he
+had meant something, but what it was escaped him for the moment.
+He had been urged to the homily by the fact that at a neighboring
+table he had caught sight of a stout young Briton, with a red
+face, who reminded him of the Honorable Frederick Threepwood. He
+mentioned this to Aline.
+
+"Do you see that fellow in the gray suit--I think he has been
+sleeping in it--at the table on your right? Look at the stodgy
+face. See the glassy eye. If that man sandbagged your Freddie and
+tied him up somewhere, and turned up at the church instead of
+him, can you honestly tell me you would know the difference?
+Come, now, wouldn't you simply say, 'Why, Freddie, how natural
+you look!' and go through the ceremony without a suspicion?"
+
+"He isn't a bit like Freddie."
+
+"My dear girl, there isn't a man in this restaurant under the age
+of thirty who isn't just like Freddie. All Englishmen look
+exactly alike, talk exactly alike, and think exactly alike."
+
+"And you oughtn't to speak of him as Freddie. You don't know
+him."
+
+"Yes, I do. And, what is more, he expressly asked me to call him
+Freddie. 'Oh, dash it, old top, don't keep on calling me
+Threepwood! Freddie to pals!' Those were his very words."
+
+"George, you're making this up."
+
+"Not at all. We met last night at the National Sporting Club.
+Porky Jones was going twenty rounds with Eddie Flynn. I offered
+to give three to one on Eddie. Freddie, who was sitting next to
+me, took me in fivers. And if you want any further proof of your
+young man's pin-headedness; mark that! A child could have seen
+that Eddie had him going. Eddie comes from Pittsburgh--God bless
+it! My own home town!"
+
+"Did your Eddie win?"
+
+"You don't listen--I told you he was from Pittsburgh. And
+afterward Threepwood chummed up with me and told me that to real
+pals like me he was Freddie. I was a real pal, as I understood
+it, because I would have to wait for my money. The fact was, he
+explained, his old governor had cut off his bally allowance."
+
+"You're simply trying to poison my mind against him; and I don't
+think it's very nice of you, George."
+
+"What do you mean--poison your mind? I'm not poisoning your mind;
+I'm simply telling you a few things about him. You know perfectly
+well that you don't love him, and that you aren't going to marry
+him--and that you are going to marry me."
+
+"How do you know I don't love my Freddie?"
+
+"If you can look me straight in the eyes and tell me you do, I
+will drop the whole thing and put on a little page's dress and
+carry your train up the aisle. Now, then!"
+
+"And all the while you're talking you're letting my carver get
+away," said Aline.
+
+George called to the willing priest, who steered his truck toward
+them. Aline directed his dissection of the shoulder of mutton by
+word and gesture.
+
+"Enjoy yourself!" said Emerson coldly.
+
+"So I do, George; so I do. What excellent meat they have in
+England!"
+
+"It all comes from America," said George patriotically. "And,
+anyway, can't you be a bit more spiritual? I don't want to sit
+here discussing food products."
+
+"If you were in my position, George, you wouldn't want to talk
+about anything else. It's doing him a world of good, poor dear;
+but there are times when I'm sorry Father ever started this
+food-reform thing. You don't know what it means for a healthy
+young girl to try and support life on nuts and grasses."
+
+"And why should you?" broke out Emerson. "I'll tell you what it
+is, Aline--you are perfectly absurd about your father. I don't
+want to say anything against him to you, naturally; but--"
+
+"Go ahead, George. Why this diffidence? Say what you like."
+
+"Very well, then, I will. I'll give it to you straight. You know
+quite well that you have let your father bully you since you were
+in short frocks. I don't say it is your fault or his fault, or
+anybody's fault; I just state it as a fact. It's temperament, I
+suppose. You are yielding and he is aggressive; and he has taken
+advantage of it.
+
+"We now come to this idiotic Freddie-marriage business. Your
+father has forced you into that. It's all very well to say that
+you are a free agent and that fathers don't coerce their
+daughters nowadays. The trouble is that your father does. You let
+him do what he likes with you. He has got you hypnotized; and you
+won't break away from this Freddie foolishness because you can't
+find the nerve. I'm going to help you find the nerve. I'm coming
+down to Blandings Castle when you go there on Friday."
+
+"Coming to Blandings!"
+
+"Freddie invited me last night. I think it was done by way of
+interest on the money he owed me; but he did it and I accepted."
+
+"But, George, my dear boy, do you never read the etiquette books
+and the hints in the Sunday papers on how to be the perfect
+gentleman? Don't you know you can't be a man's guest and take
+advantage of his hospitality to try to steal his fiancee away
+from him?"
+
+"Watch me."
+
+A dreamy look came into Aline's eyes. "I wonder what it feels
+like, being a countess," she said.
+
+"You will never know." George looked at her pityingly. "My poor
+girl," he said, "have you been lured into this engagement in the
+belief that pop-eyed Frederick, the Idiot Child, is going to be
+an earl some day? You have been stung! Freddie is not the heir.
+His older brother, Lord Bosham, is as fit as a prize-fighter and
+has three healthy sons. Freddie has about as much chance of
+getting the title as I have."
+
+"George, your education has been sadly neglected. Don't you know
+that the heir to the title always goes on a yachting cruise, with
+his whole family, and gets drowned--and the children too? It
+happens in every English novel you read."
+
+"Listen, Aline! Let us get this thing straight: I have been in
+love with you since I wore knickerbockers. I proposed to you at
+your first dance--"
+
+"Very clumsily."
+
+"But sincerely. Last year, when I found that you had gone to
+England, I came on after you as soon as the firm could spare me.
+And I found you engaged to this Freddie excrescence."
+
+"I like the way you stand up for Freddie. So many men in your
+position might say horrid things about him."
+
+"Oh, I've nothing against Freddie. He is practically an imbecile
+and I don't like his face; outside of that he's all right. But
+you will be glad later that you did not marry him. You are much
+too real a person. What a wife you will make for a hard-working
+man!"
+
+"What does Freddie work hard at?"
+
+"I am alluding at the moment not to Freddie but to myself. I
+shall come home tired out. Maybe things will have gone wrong
+downtown. I shall be fagged, disheartened. And then you will come
+with your cool, white hands and, placing them gently on my
+forehead--"
+
+Aline shook her head. "It's no good, George. Really, you had
+better realize it. I'm very fond of you, but we are not suited!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"You are too overwhelming--too much like a bomb. I think you must
+be one of the supermen one reads about. You would want your own
+way and nothing but your own way. Now, Freddie will roll through
+hoops and sham dead, and we shall be the happiest pair in the
+world. I am much too placid and mild to make you happy. You want
+somebody who would stand up to you--somebody like Joan
+Valentine."
+
+"That's the second time you have mentioned this Joan Valentine.
+Who is she?"
+
+"She is a girl who was at school with me. We were the greatest
+chums--at least, I worshiped her and would have done anything for
+her; and I think she liked me. Then we lost touch with one
+another and didn't meet for years. I met her on the street
+yesterday, and she is just the same. She has been through the
+most awful times. Her father was quite rich; he died suddenly
+while he and Joan were in Paris, and she found that he hadn't
+left a cent. He had been living right up to his income all the
+time. His life wasn't even insured. She came to London; and, so
+far as I could make out from the short talk we had, she has done
+pretty nearly everything since we last met. She worked in a shop
+and went on the stage, and all sorts of things. Isn't it awful,
+George!"
+
+"Pretty tough," said Emerson. He was but faintly interested in
+Miss Valentine.
+
+"She is so plucky and full of life. She would stand up to you."
+
+"Thanks! My idea of marriage is not a perpetual scrap. My notion
+of a wife is something cozy and sympathetic and soothing. That
+is why I love you. We shall be the happiest--"
+
+Aline laughed.
+
+"Dear old George! Now pay the check and get me a taxi. I've
+endless things to do at home. If Freddie is in town I suppose he
+will be calling to see me. Who is Freddie, do you ask? Freddie is
+my fiance, George. My betrothed. My steady. The young man I'm
+going to marry."
+
+Emerson shook his head resignedly. "Curious how you cling to that
+Freddie idea. Never mind! I'll come down to Blandings on Friday
+and we shall see what happens. Bear in mind the broad fact that
+you and I are going to be married, and that nothing on earth is
+going to stop us."
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+It was Aline Peters who had to bear the brunt of her father's
+mental agony when he discovered, shortly after Lord Emsworth had
+left him, that the gem of his collection of scarabs had done the
+same. It is always the innocent bystander who suffers.
+
+"The darned old sneak thief!" said Mr. Peters.
+
+"Father!"
+
+"Don't sit there saying 'Father!' What's the use of saying
+'Father!'? Do you think it is going to help--your saying
+'Father!'? I'd rather the old pirate had taken the house and lot
+than that scarab. He knows what's what! Trust him to walk off
+with the pick of the whole bunch! I did think I could leave the
+father of the man who's going to marry my daughter for a second
+alone with the things. There's no morality among
+collectors--none! I'd trust a syndicate of Jesse James, Captain
+Kidd and Dick Turpin sooner than I would a collector. My Cheops
+of the Fourth Dynasty! I wouldn't have lost it for five thousand
+dollars!"
+
+"But, father, couldn't you write him a letter, asking for it
+back? He's such a nice old man! I'm sure he didn't mean to steal
+the scarab."
+
+Mr. Peters' overwrought soul blew off steam in the shape of a
+passionate snort.
+
+"Didn't mean to steal it! What do you think he meant to do--take
+it away and keep it safe for me for fear I should lose it? Didn't
+mean to steal it! Bet you he's well-known in society as a
+kleptomaniac. Bet you that when his name is announced his friends
+pick up their spoons and send in a hurry call to police
+headquarters for a squad to come and see that he doesn't sneak
+the front door. Of course he meant to steal it! He has a museum
+of his own down in the country. My Cheops is going to lend tone
+to that. I'd give five thousand dollars to get it back. If
+there's a man in this country with the spirit to break into that
+castle and steal that scarab and hand it back to me, there's five
+thousand waiting for him right here; and if he wants to he can
+knock that old safe blower on the head with a jimmy into the
+bargain."
+
+"But, father, why can't you simply go to him and say it's yours
+and that you must have it back?"
+
+"And have him come back at me by calling off this engagement of
+yours? Not if I know it! You can't go about the place charging a
+man with theft and ask him to go on being willing to have his son
+marry your daughter, can you? The slightest suggestion that I
+thought he had stolen this scarab and he would do the Proud Old
+English Aristocrat and end everything. He's in the strongest
+position a thief has ever been in. You can't get at him."
+
+"I didn't think of that."
+
+"You don't think at all. That's the trouble with you," said Mr.
+Peters.
+
+Years of indigestion had made Mr. Peters' temper, even when in a
+normal mood, perfectly impossible; in a crisis like this it ran
+amuck. He vented it on Aline because he had always vented his
+irritabilities on Aline; because the fact of her sweet, gentle
+disposition, combined with the fact of their relationship, made
+her the ideal person to receive the overflow of his black moods.
+While his wife had lived he had bullied her. On her death Aline
+had stepped into the vacant position.
+
+Aline did not cry, because she was not a girl who was given to
+tears; but, for all her placid good temper, she was wounded. She
+was a girl who liked everything in the world to run smoothly and
+easily, and these scenes with her father always depressed her.
+She took advantage of a lull in Mr. Peters' flow of words and
+slipped from the room.
+
+Her cheerfulness had received a shock. She wanted sympathy. She
+wanted comforting. For a moment she considered George Emerson in
+the role of comforter; but there were objections to George in
+this character. Aline was accustomed to tease and chat with
+George, but at heart she was a little afraid of him; and instinct
+told her that, as comforter, he would be too volcanic and
+supermanly for a girl who was engaged to marry another man in
+June. George, as comforter, would be far too prone to trust to
+action rather than to the soothing power of the spoken word.
+George's idea of healing the wound, she felt, would be to push
+her into a cab and drive to the nearest registrar's.
+
+No; she would not go to George. To whom, then? The vision of Joan
+Valentine came to her--of Joan as she had seen her yesterday,
+strong, cheerful, self-reliant, bearing herself, in spite of
+adversity, with a valiant jauntiness. Yes; she would go and see
+Joan. She put on her hat and stole from the house.
+
+Curiously enough, only a quarter of an hour before, R. Jones had
+set out with exactly the same object in view.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+At almost exactly the hour when Aline Peters set off to visit her
+friend, Miss Valentine, three men sat in the cozy smoking-room of
+Blandings Castle.
+
+They were variously occupied. In the big chair nearest the door
+the Honorable Frederick Threepwood--Freddie to pals--was reading.
+Next to him sat a young man whose eyes, glittering through
+rimless spectacles, were concentrated on the upturned faces of
+several neat rows of playing cards--Rupert Baxter, Lord
+Emsworth's invaluable secretary, had no vices, but he sometimes
+relaxed his busy brain with a game of solitaire. Beyond Baxter, a
+cigar in his mouth and a weak highball at his side, the Earl of
+Emsworth took his ease.
+
+The book the Honorable Freddie was reading was a small
+paper-covered book. Its cover was decorated with a color scheme
+in red, black and yellow, depicting a tense moment in the lives
+of a man with a black beard, a man with a yellow beard, a man
+without any beard at all, and a young woman who, at first sight,
+appeared to be all eyes and hair. The man with the black beard,
+to gain some private end, had tied this young woman with ropes to
+a complicated system of machinery, mostly wheels and pulleys. The
+man with the yellow beard was in the act of pushing or pulling a
+lever. The beardless man, protruding through a trapdoor in the
+floor, was pointing a large revolver at the parties of the second
+part.
+
+Beneath this picture were the words: "Hands up, you scoundrels!"
+
+Above it, in a meandering scroll across the page, was: "Gridley
+Quayle, Investigator. The Adventure of the Secret Six. By Felix
+Clovelly."
+
+The Honorable Freddie did not so much read as gulp the adventure
+of the Secret Six. His face was crimson with excitement; his hair
+was rumpled; his eyes bulged. He was absorbed.
+
+This is peculiarly an age in which each of us may, if we do but
+search diligently, find the literature suited to his mental
+powers. Grave and earnest men, at Eton and elsewhere, had tried
+Freddie Threepwood with Greek, with Latin and with English; and
+the sheeplike stolidity with which he declined to be interested
+in the masterpieces of all three tongues had left them with the
+conviction that he would never read anything.
+
+And then, years afterward, he had suddenly blossomed out as a
+student--only, it is true, a student of the Adventures of Gridley
+Quayle; but still a student. His was a dull life and Gridley
+Quayle was the only person who brought romance into it. Existence
+for the Honorable Freddie was simply a sort of desert, punctuated
+with monthly oases in the shape of new Quayle adventures. It was
+his ambition to meet the man who wrote them.
+
+Lord Emsworth sat and smoked, and sipped and smoked again, at
+peace with all the world. His mind was as nearly a blank as it is
+possible for the human mind to be. The hand that had not the task
+of holding the cigar was at rest in his trousers pocket. The
+fingers of it fumbled idly with a small, hard object.
+
+Gradually it filtered into his lordship's mind that this small,
+hard object was not familiar. It was something new--something
+that was neither his keys nor his pencil; nor was it his small
+change. He yielded to a growing curiosity and drew it out. He
+examined it. It was a little something, rather like a fossilized
+beetle. It touched no chord in him. He looked at it with amiable
+distaste.
+
+"Now how in the world did that get there?" he said.
+
+The Honorable Freddie paid no attention to the remark. He was now
+at the very crest of his story, when every line intensified the
+thrill. Incident was succeeding incident. The Secret Six were
+here, there and everywhere, like so many malignant June bugs.
+
+Annabel, the heroine, was having a perfectly rotten
+time--kidnapped, and imprisoned every few minutes. Gridley
+Quayle, hot on the scent, was covering somebody or other with his
+revolver almost continuously. Freddie Threepwood had no time for
+chatting with his father. Not so Rupert Baxter. Chatting with
+Lord Emsworth was one of the things for which he received his
+salary. He looked up from his cards.
+
+"Lord Emsworth?"
+
+"I have found a curious object in my pocket, Baxter. I was
+wondering how it got there."
+
+He handed the thing to his secretary. Rupert Baxter's eyes lit up
+with sudden enthusiasm. He gasped.
+
+"Magnificent!" he cried. "Superb!"
+
+Lord Emsworth looked at him inquiringly.
+
+"It is a scarab, Lord Emsworth; and unless I am mistaken--and I
+think I may claim to be something of an expert--a Cheops of the
+Fourth Dynasty. A wonderful addition to your museum!"
+
+"Is it? By Gad! You don't say so, Baxter!"
+
+"It is, indeed. If it is not a rude question, how much did you
+give for it, Lord Emsworth? It must have been the gem of
+somebody's collection. Was there a sale at Christie's this
+afternoon?"
+
+Lord Emsworth shook his head. "I did not get it at Christie's,
+for I recollect that I had an important engagement which
+prevented my going to Christie's. To be sure; yes--I had promised
+to call on Mr. Peters and examine his collection of--Now I wonder
+what it was that Mr. Peters said he collected!"
+
+"Mr. Peters is one of the best-known living collectors of
+scarabs."
+
+"Scarabs! You are quite right, Baxter. Now that I recall the
+episode, this is a scarab; and Mr. Peters gave it to me."
+
+"Gave it to you, Lord Emsworth?"
+
+"Yes. The whole scene comes back to me. Mr. Peters, after telling
+me a great many exceedingly interesting things about scarabs,
+which I regret to say I cannot remember, gave me this. And you
+say it is really valuable, Baxter?"
+
+"It is, from a collector's point of view, of extraordinary
+value."
+
+"Bless my soul!" Lord Emsworth beamed. "This is extremely
+interesting, Baxter. One has heard so much of the princely
+hospitality of Americans. How exceedingly kind of Mr. Peters! I
+shall certainly treasure it, though I must confess that from a
+purely spectacular standpoint it leaves me a little cold.
+However, I must not look a gift horse in the mouth--eh, Baxter?"
+
+From afar came the silver booming of a gong. Lord Emsworth rose.
+
+"Time to dress for dinner? I had no idea it was so late. Baxter,
+you will be going past the museum door. Will you be a good fellow
+and place this among the exhibits? You will know what to do with
+it better than I. I always think of you as the curator of my
+little collection, Baxter--ha-ha! Mind how you step when you are
+in the museum. I was painting a chair there yesterday and I think
+I left the paint pot on the floor."
+
+He cast a less amiable glance at his studious son.
+
+"Get up, Frederick, and go and dress for dinner. What is that
+trash you are reading?"
+
+The Honorable Freddie came out of his book much as a sleepwalker
+wakes--with a sense of having been violently assaulted. He looked
+up with a kind of stunned plaintiveness.
+
+"Eh, gov'nor?"
+
+"Make haste! Beach rang the gong five minutes ago. What is that
+you are reading?"
+
+"Oh, nothing, gov'nor--just a book."
+
+"I wonder you can waste your time on such trash. Make haste!"
+
+He turned to the door, and the benevolent expression once more
+wandered athwart his face.
+
+"Extremely kind of Mr. Peters!" he said. "Really, there is
+something almost Oriental in the lavish generosity of our
+American cousins."
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+It had taken R. Jones just six hours to discover Joan Valentine's
+address. That it had not taken him longer is a proof of his
+energy and of the excellence of his system of obtaining
+information; but R. Jones, when he considered it worth his while,
+could be extremely energetic, and he was a past master at the art
+of finding out things.
+
+He poured himself out of his cab and rang the bell of Number
+Seven. A disheveled maid answered the ring.
+
+"Miss Valentine in?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+R. Jones produced his card.
+
+"On important business, tell her. Half a minute--I'll write it."
+
+He wrote the words on the card and devoted the brief period of
+waiting to a careful scrutiny of his surroundings. He looked out
+into the court and he looked as far as he could down the dingy
+passage; and the conclusions he drew from what he saw were
+complimentary to Miss Valentine.
+
+"If this girl is the sort of girl who would hold up Freddie's
+letters," he mused, "she wouldn't be living in a place like this.
+If she were on the make she would have more money than she
+evidently possesses. Therefore, she is not on the make; and I am
+prepared to bet that she destroyed the letters as fast as she got
+them."
+
+Those were, roughly, the thoughts of R. Jones as he stood in the
+doorway of Number Seven; and they were important thoughts
+inasmuch as they determined his attitude toward Joan in the
+approaching interview. He perceived that this matter must be
+handled delicately--that he must be very much the gentleman. It
+would be a strain, but he must do it.
+
+The maid returned and directed him to Joan's room with a brief
+word and a sweeping gesture.
+
+"Eh?" said R. Jones. "First floor?"
+
+"Front," said the maid.
+
+R. Jones trudged laboriously up the short flight of stairs. It
+was very dark on the stairs and he stumbled. Eventually, however,
+light came to him through an open door. Looking in, he saw a girl
+standing at the table. She had an air of expectation; so he
+deduced that he had reached his journey's end.
+
+"Miss Valentine?"
+
+"Please come in."
+
+R. Jones waddled in.
+
+"Not much light on your stairs."
+
+"No. Will you take a seat?"
+
+"Thanks."
+
+One glance at the girl convinced R. Jones that he had been right.
+Circumstances had made him a rapid judge of character, for in the
+profession of living by one's wits in a large city the first
+principle of offense and defense is to sum people up at first
+sight. This girl was not on the make.
+
+Joan Valentine was a tall girl with wheat-gold hair and eyes as
+brightly blue as a November sky when the sun is shining on a
+frosty world. There was in them a little of November's cold
+glitter, too, for Joan had been through much in the last few
+years; and experience, even though it does not harden, erects a
+defensive barrier between its children and the world.
+
+Her eyes were eyes that looked straight and challenged. They
+could thaw to the satin blue of the Mediterranean Sea, where it
+purrs about the little villages of Southern France; but they did
+not thaw for everybody. She looked what she was--a girl of
+action; a girl whom life had made both reckless and wary--wary of
+friendly advances, reckless when there was a venture afoot.
+
+Her eyes, as they met R. Jones' now, were cold and challenging.
+She, too, had learned the trick of swift diagnosis of character,
+and what she saw of R. Jones in that first glance did not impress
+her favorably.
+
+"You wished to see me on business?"
+
+"Yes," said R. Jones. "Yes. . . . Miss Valentine, may I begin by
+begging you to realize that I have no intention of insulting
+you?"
+
+Joan's eyebrows rose. For an instant she did her visitor the
+injustice of suspecting that he had been dining too well.
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"Let me explain: I have come here," R. Jones went on, getting
+more gentlemanly every moment, "on a very distasteful errand, to
+oblige a friend. Will you bear in mind that whatever I say is
+said entirely on his behalf?"
+
+By this time Joan had abandoned the idea that this stout person
+was a life-insurance tout, and was inclining to the view that he
+was collecting funds for a charity.
+
+"I came here at the request of the Honorable Frederick
+Threepwood."
+
+"I don't quite understand."
+
+"You never met him, Miss Valentine; but when you were in the
+chorus at the Piccadilly Theatre, I believe, he wrote you some
+very foolish letters. Possibly you have forgotten them?"
+
+"I certainly have."
+
+"You have probably destroyed them---eh?"
+
+"Certainly! I never keep letters. Why do you ask?"
+
+"Well, you see, Miss Valentine, the Honorable Frederick
+Threepwood is about to be married; and he thought that possibly,
+on the whole, it would be better that the letters--and
+poetry--which he wrote you were nonexistent."
+
+Not all R. Jones' gentlemanliness--and during this speech he
+diffused it like a powerful scent in waves about him--could hide
+the unpleasant meaning of the words.
+
+"He was afraid I might try to blackmail him?" said Joan, with
+formidable calm.
+
+R. Jones raised and waved a fat hand deprecatingly.
+
+"My dear Miss Valentine!"
+
+Joan rose and R. Jones followed her example. The interview was
+plainly at an end.
+
+"Please tell Mr. Threepwood to make his mind quite easy. He is in
+no danger."
+
+"Exactly--exactly; precisely! I assured Threepwood that my visit
+here would be a mere formality. I was quite sure you had no
+intention whatever of worrying him. I may tell him definitely,
+then, that you have destroyed the letters?"
+
+"Yes. Good-evening."
+
+"Good-evening, Miss Valentine."
+
+The closing of the door behind him left him in total darkness,
+but he hardly liked to return and ask Joan to reopen it in order
+to light him on his way. He was glad to be out of her presence.
+He was used to being looked at in an unfriendly way by his
+fellows, but there had been something in Joan's eyes that had
+curiously discomfited him.
+
+R. Jones groped his way down, relieved that all was over and had
+ended well. He believed what she had told him, and he could
+conscientiously assure Freddie that the prospect of his sharing
+the fate of poor old Percy was nonexistent. It is true that he
+proposed to add in his report that the destruction of the letters
+had been purchased with difficulty, at a cost of just five
+hundred pounds; but that was a mere business formality.
+
+He had almost reached the last step when there was a ring at the
+front door. With what he was afterward wont to call an
+inspiration, he retreated with unusual nimbleness until he had
+almost reached Joan's door again. Then he leaned over the
+banister and listened.
+
+The disheveled maid opened the door. A girl's voice spoke:
+
+"Is Miss Valentine in?"
+
+"She's in; but she's engaged."
+
+"I wish you would go up and tell her that I want to see her. Say
+it's Miss Peters--Miss Aline Peters."
+
+The banister shook beneath R. Jones' sudden clutch. For a moment
+he felt almost faint. Then he began to think swiftly. A great
+light had dawned on him, and the thought outstanding in his mind
+was that never again would he trust a man or woman on the
+evidence of his senses. He could have sworn that this Valentine
+girl was on the level. He had been perfectly satisfied with her
+statement that she had destroyed the letters. And all the while
+she had been playing as deep a game as he had come across in the
+whole course of his professional career! He almost admired her.
+How she had taken him in!
+
+It was obvious now what her game was. Previous to his visit she
+had arranged a meeting with Freddie's fiancee, with the view of
+opening negotiations for the sale of the letters. She had held
+him, Jones, at arm's length because she was going to sell the
+letters to whoever would pay the best price. But for the accident
+of his happening to be here when Miss Peters arrived, Freddie and
+his fiancee would have been bidding against each other and
+raising each other's price. He had worked the same game himself a
+dozen times, and he resented the entry of female competition into
+what he regarded as essentially a male field of enterprise.
+
+As the maid stumped up the stairs he continued his retreat. He
+heard Joan's door open, and the stream of light showed him the
+disheveled maid standing in the doorway.
+
+"Ow, I thought there was a gentleman with you, miss."
+
+"He left a moment ago. Why?"
+
+"There's a lady wants to see you. Miss Peters, her name is."
+
+"Will you ask her to come up?"
+
+The disheveled maid was no polished mistress of ceremonies. She
+leaned down into the void and hailed Aline.
+
+"She says will you come up?"
+
+Aline's feet became audible on the staircase. There were
+greetings.
+
+"Whatever brings you here, Aline?"
+
+"Am I interrupting you, Joan, dear?"
+
+"No. Do come in! I was only surprised to see you so late. I
+didn't know you paid calls at this hour. Is anything wrong? Come
+in."
+
+The door closed, the maid retired to the depths, and R. Jones
+stole cautiously down again. He was feeling absolutely
+bewildered. Apparently his deductions, his second thoughts, had
+been all wrong, and Joan was, after all, the honest person he had
+imagined at first sight. Those two girls had talked to each other
+as though they were old friends; as though they had known each
+other all their lives. That was the thing which perplexed R.
+Jones.
+
+With the tread of a red Indian, he approached the door and put
+his ear to it. He found he could hear quite comfortably.
+
+Aline, meantime, inside the room, had begun to draw comfort from
+Joan's very appearance, she looked so capable.
+
+Joan's eyes had changed the expression they had contained during
+the recent interview. They were soft now, with a softness that
+was half compassionate, half contemptuous. It is the compensation
+which life gives to those whom it has handled roughly in order
+that they shall be able to regard with a certain contempt the
+small troubles of the sheltered. Joan remembered Aline of old,
+and knew her for a perennial victim of small troubles. Even in
+their schooldays she had always needed to be looked after and
+comforted. Her sweet temper had seemed to invite the minor slings
+and arrows of fortune. Aline was a girl who inspired
+protectiveness in a certain type of her fellow human beings. It
+was this quality in her that kept George Emerson awake at nights;
+and it appealed to Joan now.
+
+Joan, for whom life was a constant struggle to keep the wolf
+within a reasonable distance from the door, and who counted that
+day happy on which she saw her way clear to paying her weekly
+rent and possibly having a trifle over for some coveted hat or
+pair of shoes, could not help feeling, as she looked at Aline,
+that her own troubles were as nothing, and that the immediate
+need of the moment was to pet and comfort her friend. Her
+knowledge of Aline told her the probable tragedy was that she had
+lost a brooch or had been spoken to crossly by somebody; but it
+also told her that such tragedies bulked very large on Aline's
+horizon.
+
+Trouble, after all, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder;
+and Aline was far less able to endure with fortitude the loss of
+a brooch than she herself to bear the loss of a position the
+emoluments of which meant the difference between having just
+enough to eat and starving.
+
+"You're worried about something," she said. "Sit down and tell me
+all about it."
+
+Aline sat down and looked about her at the shabby room. By that
+curious process of the human mind which makes the spectacle of
+another's misfortune a palliative for one's own, she was feeling
+oddly comforted already. Her thoughts were not definite and she
+could not analyze them; but what they amounted to was that,
+though it was an unpleasant thing to be bullied by a dyspeptic
+father, the world manifestly held worse tribulations, which her
+father's other outstanding quality, besides dyspepsia--wealth, to
+wit--enabled her to avoid.
+
+It was at this point that the dim beginnings of philosophy began
+to invade her mind. The thing resolved itself almost into an
+equation. If father had not had indigestion he would not have
+bullied her. But, if father had not made a fortune he would not
+have had indigestion. Therefore, if father had not made a fortune
+he would not have bullied her. Practically, in fact, if father
+did not bully her he would not be rich. And if he were not rich--
+
+She took in the faded carpet, the stained wall paper and the
+soiled curtains with a comprehensive glance. It certainly cut
+both ways. She began to be a little ashamed of her misery.
+
+"It's nothing at all; really," she said. "I think I've been
+making rather a fuss about very little."
+
+Joan was relieved. The struggling life breeds moods of
+depression, and such a mood had come to her just before Aline's
+arrival. Life, at that moment, had seemed to stretch before her
+like a dusty, weary road, without hope. She was sick of fighting.
+She wanted money and ease, and a surcease from this perpetual
+race with the weekly bills. The mood had been the outcome partly
+of R. Jones' gentlemanly-veiled insinuations, but still more,
+though she did not realize it, of her yesterday's meeting with
+Aline.
+
+Mr. Peters might be unguarded in his speech when conversing with
+his daughter--he might play the tyrant toward her in many ways;
+but he did not stint her in the matter of dress allowance, and,
+on the occasion when she met Joan, Aline had been wearing so
+Parisian a hat and a tailor-made suit of such obviously expensive
+simplicity that green-eyed envy had almost spoiled Joan's
+pleasure at meeting this friend of her opulent days.
+
+She had suppressed the envy, and it had revenged itself by
+assaulting her afresh in the form of the worst fit of the blues
+she had had in two years.
+
+She had been loyally ready to sink her depression in order to
+alleviate Aline's, but it was a distinct relief to find that the
+feat would not be necessary.
+
+"Never mind," she said. "Tell me what the very little thing was."
+
+"It was only father," said Aline simply.
+
+Joan cast her mind back to the days of school and placed father
+as a rather irritable person, vaguely reputed to be something of
+an ogre in his home circle.
+
+"Was he angry with you about something?" she asked.
+
+"Not exactly angry with me; but--well, I was there."
+
+Joan's depression lifted slightly. She had forgotten, in the
+stunning anguish of the sudden spectacle of that hat and that
+tailor-made suit, that Paris hats and hundred-and-twenty-dollar
+suits not infrequently had what the vulgar term a string attached
+to them. After all, she was independent. She might have to murder
+her beauty with hats and frocks that had never been nearer Paris
+than the Tottenham Court Road; but at least no one bullied her
+because she happened to be at hand when tempers were short.
+
+"What a shame!" she said. "Tell me all about it."
+
+With a prefatory remark that it was all so ridiculous, really,
+Aline embarked on the narrative of the afternoon's events.
+
+Joan heard her out, checking a strong disposition to giggle. Her
+viewpoint was that of the average person, and the average person
+cannot see the importance of the scarab in the scheme of things.
+The opinion she formed of Mr. Peters was of his being an
+eccentric old gentleman, making a great to-do about nothing at
+all. Losses had to have a concrete value before they could
+impress Joan. It was beyond her to grasp that Mr. Peters would
+sooner have lost a diamond necklace, if he had happened to
+possess one, than his Cheops of the Fourth Dynasty.
+
+It was not until Aline, having concluded her tale, added one more
+strand to it that she found herself treating the matter
+seriously.
+
+"Father says he would give five thousand dollars to anyone who
+would get it back for him."
+
+"What!"
+
+The whole story took on a different complexion for Joan. Money
+talks. Mr. Peters' words might have been merely the rhetorical
+outburst of a heated moment; but, even discounting them, there
+seemed to remain a certain exciting substratum. A man who shouts
+that he will give five thousand dollars for a thing may very well
+mean he will give five hundred, and Joan's finances were
+perpetually in a condition which makes five hundred dollars a sum
+to be gasped at.
+
+"He wasn't serious, surely!"
+
+"I think he was," said Aline.
+
+"But five thousand dollars!"
+
+"It isn't really very much to father, you know. He gave away a
+hundred thousand a year ago to a university."
+
+"But for a grubby little scarab!"
+
+"You don't understand how father loves his scarabs. Since he
+retired from business, he has been simply wrapped up in them. You
+know collectors are like that. You read in the papers about men
+giving all sorts of money for funny things."
+
+Outside the door R. Jones, his ear close to the panel, drank in
+all these things greedily. He would have been willing to remain
+in that attitude indefinitely in return for this kind of special
+information; but just as Aline said these words a door opened on
+the floor above, and somebody came out, whistling, and began to
+descend the stairs.
+
+R. Jones stood not on the order of his going. He was down in the
+hall and fumbling with the handle of the front door with an
+agility of which few casual observers of his dimensions would
+have deemed him capable. The next moment he was out in the
+street, walking calmly toward Leicester Square, pondering over
+what he had heard.
+
+Much of R. Jones' substantial annual income was derived from
+pondering over what he had heard.
+
+In the room Joan was looking at Aline with the distended eyes of
+one who sees visions or has inspirations. She got up. There are
+occasions when one must speak standing.
+
+"Then you mean to say that your father would really give five
+thousand dollars to anyone who got this thing back for him?"
+
+"I am sure he would. But who could do it?"
+
+"I could," said Joan. "And what is more, I'm going to!"
+
+Aline stared at her helplessly. In their schooldays, Joan had
+always swept her off her feet. Then, she had always had the
+feeling that with Joan nothing was impossible. Heroine worship,
+like hero worship, dies hard. She looked at Joan now with the
+stricken sensation of one who has inadvertently set powerful
+machinery in motion.
+
+"But, Joan!" It was all she could say.
+
+"My dear child, it's perfectly simple. This earl of yours has
+taken the thing off to his castle, like a brigand. You say you
+are going down there on Friday for a visit. All you have to do is
+to take me along with you, and sit back and watch me get busy."
+
+"But, Joan!"
+
+"Where's the difficulty?"
+
+"I don't see how I could take you down very well."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know."
+
+"But what is your objection?"
+
+"Well--don't you see?--if you went down there as a friend of mine
+and were caught stealing the scarab, there would be just the
+trouble father wants to avoid--about my engagement, you see, and
+so on."
+
+It was an aspect of the matter that had escaped Joan. She frowned
+thoughtfully.
+
+"I see. Yes, there is that; but there must be a way."
+
+"You mustn't, Joan--really! don't think any more about it."
+
+"Not think any more about it! My child, do you even faintly
+realize what five thousand dollars--or a quarter of five thousand
+dollars--means to me? I would do anything for it--anything! And
+there's the fun of it. I don't suppose you can realize that,
+either. I want a change. I've been grubbing away here on nothing
+a week for years, and it's time I had a vacation. There must be a
+way by which you could get me down--Why, of course! Why didn't I
+think of it before! You shall take me on Friday as your lady's
+maid!"
+
+"But, Joan, I couldn't!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I--I couldn't."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh, well!"
+
+Joan advanced on her where she sat and grasped her firmly by the
+shoulders. Her face was inflexible.
+
+"Aline, my pet, it's no good arguing. You might just as well
+argue with a wolf on the trail of a fat Russian peasant. I need
+that money. I need it in my business. I need it worse than
+anybody has ever needed anything. And I'm going to have it! From
+now on, until further notice, I am your lady's maid. You can give
+your present one a holiday."
+
+Aline met her eyes waveringly. The spirit of the old schooldays,
+when nothing was impossible where Joan was concerned, had her in
+its grip. Moreover, the excitement of the scheme began to attract
+her.
+
+"But, Joan," she said, "you know it's simply ridiculous. You
+could never pass as a lady's maid. The other servants would find
+you out. I expect there are all sorts of things a lady's maid has
+got to do and not do."
+
+"My dear Aline, I know them all. You can't stump me on
+below-stairs etiquette. I've been a lady's maid!"
+
+"Joan!"
+
+"It's quite true--three years ago, when I was more than usually
+impecunious. The wolf was glued to the door like a postage stamp;
+so I answered an advertisement and became a lady's maid."
+
+"You seem to have done everything."
+
+"I have--pretty nearly. It's all right for you idle rich,
+Aline--you can sit still and contemplate life; but we poor
+working girls have got to hustle."
+
+Aline laughed.
+
+"You know, you always could make me do anything you wanted in the
+old days, Joan. I suppose I have got to look on this as quite
+settled now?"
+
+"Absolutely settled! Oh, Aline, there's one thing you must
+remember: Don't call me Joan when I'm down at the castle. You
+must call me Valentine."
+
+She paused. The recollection of the Honorable Freddie had come to
+her. No; Valentine would not do!
+
+"No; not Valentine," she went on--"it's too jaunty. I used it
+once years ago, but it never sounded just right. I want something
+more respectable, more suited to my position. Can't you suggest
+something?"
+
+Aline pondered.
+
+"Simpson?"
+
+"Simpson! It's exactly right. You must practice it. Simpson! Say
+it kindly and yet distantly, as though I were a worm, but a worm
+for whom you felt a mild liking. Roll it round your tongue."
+
+"Simpson."
+
+"Splendid! Now once again--a little more haughtily."
+
+"Simpson--Simpson--Simpson."
+
+Joan regarded her with affectionate approval.
+
+"It's wonderful!" she said. "You might have been doing it all
+your life."
+
+"What are you laughing at?" asked Aline.
+
+"Nothing," said Joan. "I was just thinking of something. There's
+a young man who lives on the floor above this, and I was
+lecturing him yesterday on enterprise. I told him to go and find
+something exciting to do. I wonder what he would say if he knew
+how thoroughly I am going to practice what I preach!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+In the morning following Aline's visit to Joan Valentine, Ashe
+sat in his room, the Morning Post on the table before him. The
+heady influence of Joan had not yet ceased to work within him;
+and he proposed, in pursuance of his promise to her, to go
+carefully through the columns of advertisements, however
+pessimistic he might feel concerning the utility of that action.
+
+His first glance assured him that the vast fortunes of the
+philanthropists, whose acquaintance he had already made in print,
+were not yet exhausted. Brian MacNeill still dangled his gold
+before the public; so did Angus Bruce; so did Duncan Macfarlane
+and Wallace Mackintosh and Donald MacNab. They still had the
+money and they still wanted to give it away.
+
+Ashe was reading listlessly down the column when, from the mass
+of advertisements, one of an unusual sort detached itself.
+
+   WANTED: Young Man of good appearance, who is poor and
+   reckless, to undertake a delicate and dangerous enterprise.
+   Good pay for the right man. Apply between the hours of ten
+   and twelve at offices of Mainprice, Mainprice & Boole,
+   3, Denvers Street, Strand.
+
+And as he read it, half past ten struck on the little clock on
+his mantelpiece. It was probably this fact that decided Ashe. If
+he had been compelled to postpone his visit to the offices of
+Messrs. Mainprice, Mainprice & Boole until the afternoon, it is
+possible that barriers of laziness might have reared themselves
+in the path of adventure; for Ashe, an adventurer at heart, was
+also uncommonly lazy. As it was, however, he could make an
+immediate start.
+
+Pausing but to put on his shoes, and having satisfied himself by
+a glance in the mirror that his appearance was reasonably good,
+he seized his hat, shot out of the narrow mouth of Arundell Street
+like a shell, and scrambled into a taxicab, with the feeling
+that--short of murder--they could not make it too delicate and
+dangerous for him.
+
+He was conscious of strange thrills. This, he told himself, was
+the only possible mode of life with spring in the air. He had
+always been partial to those historical novels in which the
+characters are perpetually vaulting on chargers and riding across
+country on perilous errands. This leaping into taxicabs to answer
+stimulating advertisements in the Morning Post was very much the
+same sort of thing. It was with fine fervor animating him that he
+entered the gloomy offices of Mainprice, Mainprice & Boole. His
+brain was afire and he felt ready for anything.
+
+"I have come in ans--" he began, to the diminutive office boy,
+who seemed to be the nearest thing visible to a Mainprice or a
+Boole.
+
+"Siddown. Gottatakeyerturn," said the office boy; and for the
+first time Ashe perceived that the ante-room in which he stood
+was crowded to overflowing.
+
+This, in the circumstances, was something of a damper. He had
+pictured himself, during his ride in the cab, striding into the
+office and saying. "The delicate and dangerous enterprise. Lead
+me to it!" He had not realized until now that he was not the only
+man in London who read the advertisement columns of the Morning
+Post, and for an instant his heart sank at the sight of all this
+competition. A second and more comprehensive glance at his rivals
+gave him confidence.
+
+The Wanted column of the morning paper is a sort of dredger,
+which churns up strange creatures from the mud of London's
+underworld. Only in response to the dredger's operations do they
+come to the surface in such numbers as to be noticeable, for as a
+rule they are of a solitary habit and shun company; but when they
+do come they bring with them something of the horror of the
+depths.
+
+It is the saddest spectacle in the world--that of the crowd
+collected by a Wanted advertisement. They are so palpably not
+wanted by anyone for any purpose whatsoever; yet every time they
+gather together with a sort of hopeful hopelessness. What they
+were originally--the units of these collections--Heaven knows.
+Fate has battered out of them every trace of individuality. Each
+now is exactly like his neighbor--no worse; no better.
+
+Ashe, as he sat and watched them, was filled with conflicting
+emotions. One-half of him, thrilled with the glamour of
+adventure, was chafing at the delay, and resentful of these poor
+creatures as of so many obstacles to the beginning of all the
+brisk and exciting things that lay behind the mysterious brevity
+of the advertisement; the other, pitifully alive to the tragedy
+of the occasion, was grateful for the delay.
+
+On the whole, he was glad to feel that if one of these derelicts
+did not secure the "good pay for the right man," it would not be
+his fault. He had been the last to arrive, and he would be the
+last to pass through that door, which was the gateway of
+adventure--the door with Mr. Boole inscribed on its ground glass,
+behind which sat the author of the mysterious request for
+assistance, interviewing applicants. It would be through their
+own shortcomings--not because of his superior attractions--if
+they failed to please that unseen arbiter.
+
+That they were so failing was plain. Scarcely had one scarred
+victim of London's unkindness passed through before the bell
+would ring; the office boy, who, in the intervals of frowning
+sternly on the throng, as much as to say that he would stand no
+nonsense, would cry, "Next!" and another dull-eyed wreck would
+drift through, to be followed a moment later by yet another. The
+one fact at present ascertainable concerning the unknown searcher
+for reckless young men of good appearance was that he appeared to
+be possessed of considerable decision of character, a man who did
+not take long to make up his mind. He was rejecting applicants
+now at the rate of two a minute.
+
+Expeditious though he was, he kept Ashe waiting for a
+considerable time. It was not until the hands of the fat clock
+over the door pointed to twenty minutes past eleven that the
+office boy's "Next!" found him the only survivor. He gave his
+clothes a hasty smack with the palm of his hand and his hair a
+fleeting dab to accentuate his good appearance, and turned the
+handle of the door of fate.
+
+The room assigned by the firm to their Mr. Boole for his personal
+use was a small and dingy compartment, redolent of that
+atmosphere of desolation which lawyers alone know how to achieve.
+It gave the impression of not having been swept since the
+foundation of the firm, in the year 1786. There was one small
+window, covered with grime. It was one of those windows you see
+only in lawyers' offices. Possibly some reckless Mainprice or
+harebrained Boole had opened it in a fit of mad excitement
+induced by the news of the Battle of Waterloo, in 1815, and had
+been instantly expelled from the firm. Since then, no one had
+dared to tamper with it.
+
+Gazing through this window--or, rather, gazing at it, for X-rays
+could hardly have succeeded in actually penetrating the alluvial
+deposits on the glass--was a little man. As Ashe entered, he
+turned and looked at him as though he hurt him rather badly in
+some tender spot.
+
+Ashe was obliged to own to himself that he felt a little nervous.
+It is not every day that a young man of good appearance, who has
+led a quiet life, meets face to face one who is prepared to pay
+him well for doing something delicate and dangerous. To Ashe the
+sensation was entirely novel. The most delicate and dangerous act
+he had performed to date had been the daily mastication of Mrs.
+Bell's breakfast--included in the rent. Yes, he had to admit
+it--he was nervous: and the fact that he was nervous made him hot
+and uncomfortable.
+
+To judge him by his appearance, the man at the window was also
+hot and uncomfortable. He was a little, truculent-looking man,
+and his face at present was red with a flush that sat unnaturally
+on a normally lead-colored face. His eyes looked out from under
+thick gray eyebrows with an almost tortured expression. This was
+partly owing to the strain of interviewing Ashe's preposterous
+predecessors, but principally to the fact that the little man had
+suddenly been seized with acute indigestion, a malady to which he
+was peculiarly subject.
+
+He removed from his mouth the black cigar he was smoking,
+inserted a digestive tabloid, and replaced the cigar. Then he
+concentrated his attention on Ashe. As he did so the hostile
+expression of his face became modified. He looked surprised
+and--grudgingly--pleased.
+
+"Well, what do you want?" he said.
+
+"I came in answer to--"
+
+"In answer to my advertisement? I had given up hope of seeing
+anything part human. I thought you must be one of the clerks.
+You're certainly more like what I advertised for. Of all the
+seedy bunches of dead beats I ever struck, the aggregation I've
+just been interviewing was the seediest! When I spend good money
+in advertising for a young man of good appearance, I want a young
+man of good appearance--not a tramp of fifty-five."
+
+Ashe was sorry for his predecessors, but he was bound to admit
+that they certainly had corresponded somewhat faithfully to the
+description just given. The comparative cordiality of his own
+reception removed the slight nervousness that had been troubling
+him. He began to feel confident--almost jaunty.
+
+"I'm through," said the little man wearily. "I've had enough of
+interviewing applicants. You're the last one I'll see. Are there
+any more hobos outside?"
+
+"Not when I came in."
+
+"Then we'll get down to business. I'll tell you what I want done,
+and if you are willing you can do it; if you are not willing you
+can leave it--and go to the devil! Sit down."
+
+Ashe sat down. He resented the little man's tone, but this was
+not the moment for saying so. His companion scrutinized him
+narrowly.
+
+"So far as appearance goes," he said, "you are what I want." Ashe
+felt inclined to bow. "Whoever takes on this job has got to act
+as my valet, and you look like a valet." Ashe felt less inclined
+to bow.
+
+"You're tall and thin and ordinary-looking. Yes; so far as
+appearance goes, you fill the bill."
+
+It seemed to Ashe that it was time to correct an impression the
+little man appeared to have formed.
+
+"I am afraid," he said, "if all you want is a valet, you will
+have to look elsewhere. I got the idea from your advertisement
+that something rather more exciting was in the air. I can
+recommend you to several good employment agencies if you wish."
+He rose. "Good-morning!" he said.
+
+He would have liked to fling the massive pewter inkwell at this
+little creature who had so keenly disappointed him.
+
+"Sit down!" snapped the other.
+
+Ashe resumed his seat. The hope of adventure dies hard on a
+Spring morning when one is twenty-six, and he had the feeling
+that there was more to come.
+
+"Don't be a damned fool!" said the little man. "Of course I'm not
+asking you to be a valet and nothing else."
+
+"You would want me to do some cooking and plain sewing on the
+side, perhaps?"
+
+Their eyes met in a hostile glare. The flush on the little man's
+face deepened.
+
+"Are you trying to get fresh with me?" he demanded dangerously.
+
+"Yes," said Ashe.
+
+The answer seemed to disconcert his adversary. He was silent for
+a moment.
+
+"Well," he said at last, "maybe it's all for the best. If you
+weren't full of gall probably you wouldn't have come here at all;
+and whoever takes on this job of mine has got to have gall if he
+has nothing else. I think we shall suit each other."
+
+"What is the job?"
+
+The little man's face showed doubt and perplexity.
+
+"It's awkward. If I'm to make the thing clear to you I've got to
+trust you. And I don't know a thing about you. I wish I had
+thought of that before I inserted the advertisement."
+
+Ashe appreciated the difficulty.
+
+"Couldn't you make an A--B case out of it?"
+
+"Maybe I could if I knew what an A--B case was."
+
+"Call the people mixed up in it A and B."
+
+"And forget, halfway through, who was which! No; I guess I'll
+have to trust you."
+
+"I'll play square."
+
+The little man fastened his eyes on Ashe's in a piercing stare.
+Ashe met them smilingly. His spirits, always fairly cheerful, had
+risen high by now. There was something about the little man, in
+spite of his brusqueness and ill temper, which made him feel
+flippant.
+
+"Pure white!" said Ashe.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"My soul! And this"--he thumped the left section of his
+waistcoat--"solid gold. You may fire when ready, Gridley.
+Proceed, professor."
+
+"I don't know where to begin."
+
+"Without presuming to dictate, why not at the beginning?"
+
+"It's all so darned complicated that I don't rightly know which
+is the beginning. Well, see here . . . I collect scarabs. I'm
+crazy about scarabs. Ever since I quit business, you might say
+that I have practically lived for scarabs."
+
+"Though it sounds like an unkind thing to say of anyone," said
+Ashe. "Incidentally, what are scarabs?" He held up his hand.
+"Wait! It all comes back to me. Expensive classical education,
+now bearing belated fruit. Scarabaeus--Latin; noun, nominative--a
+beetle. Scarabaee--vocative--O you beetle! Scarabaeum--
+accusative--the beetle. Scarabaei--of the beetle. Scarabaeo--to
+or for the beetle. I remember now. Egypt--Rameses--pyramids--
+sacred scarabs! Right!"
+
+"Well, I guess I've gotten together the best collection of
+scarabs outside the British Museum, and some of them are worth
+what you like to me. I don't reckon money when it comes to a
+question of my scarabs. Do you understand?"
+
+"Sure, Mike!"
+
+Displeasure clouded the little man's face.
+
+"My name is not Mike."
+
+"I used the word figuratively, as it were."
+
+"Well, don't do it again. My name is J. Preston Peters, and Mr.
+Peters will do as well as anything else when you want to attract
+my attention."
+
+"Mine is Marson. You were saying, Mr. Peters--?"
+
+"Well, it's this way," said the little man.
+
+Shakespeare and Pope have both emphasized the tediousness of a
+twice-told tale; the Episode Of the Stolen Scarab need not be
+repeated at this point, though it must be admitted that Mr.
+Peters' version of it differed considerably from the calm,
+dispassionate description the author, in his capacity of official
+historian, has given earlier in the story.
+
+In Mr. Peters' version the Earl of Emsworth appeared as a smooth
+and purposeful robber, a sort of elderly Raffles, worming his way
+into the homes of the innocent, and only sparing that portion of
+their property which was too heavy for him to carry away. Mr.
+Peters, indeed, specifically described the Earl of Emsworth as an
+oily old second-story man.
+
+It took Ashe some little time to get a thorough grasp of the
+tangled situation; but he did it at last.
+
+Only one point perplexed him.
+
+"You want to hire somebody to go to this castle and get this
+scarab back for you. I follow that. But why must he go as your
+valet?"
+
+"That's simple enough. You don't think I'm asking him to buy a
+black mask and break in, do you? I'm making it as easy for him as
+possible. I can't take a secretary down to the castle, for
+everybody knows that, now I've retired, I haven't got a
+secretary; and if I engaged a new one and he was caught trying to
+steal my scarab from the earl's collection, it would look
+suspicious. But a valet is different. Anyone can get fooled by a
+crook valet with bogus references."
+
+"I see. There's just one other point: Suppose your accomplice
+does get caught--what then?"
+
+"That," said Mr. Peters, "is the catch; and it's just because of
+that I am offering good pay to my man. We'll suppose, for the
+sake of argument, that you accept the contract and get caught.
+Well, if that happens you've got to look after yourself. I
+couldn't say a word. If I did it would all come out, and so far
+as the breaking off of my daughter's engagement to young
+Threepwood is concerned, it would be just as bad as though I had
+tried to get the thing back myself.
+
+"You've got to bear that in mind. You've got to remember it if
+you forget everything else. I don't appear in this business in
+any way whatsoever. If you get caught you take what's coming to
+you without a word. You can't turn round and say: 'I am innocent.
+Mr. Peters will explain all'--because Mr. Peters certainly won't.
+Mr. Peters won't utter a syllable of protest if they want to hang
+you.
+
+"No; if you go into this, young man, you go into it with your
+eyes open. You go into it with a full understanding of the
+risks--because you think the reward, if you are successful, makes
+the taking of those risks worth while. You and I know that what
+you are doing isn't really stealing; it's simply a tactful way of
+getting back my own property. But the judge and jury will have
+different views."
+
+"I am beginning to understand," said Ashe thoughtfully, "why you
+called the job delicate and dangerous."
+
+Certainly it had been no overstatement. As a writer of detective
+stories for the British office boy, he had imagined in his time
+many undertakings that might be so described, but few to which
+the description was more admirably suited.
+
+"It is," said Mr. Peters; "and that is why I'm offering good pay.
+Whoever carries this job through gets one thousand pounds."
+
+Ashe started.
+
+"One thousand pounds--five thousand dollars!"
+
+"Five thousand."
+
+"When do I begin?"
+
+"You'll do it?"
+
+"For five thousand dollars I certainly will."
+
+"With your eyes open?"
+
+"Wide open!"
+
+A look of positive geniality illuminated Mr. Peters' pinched
+features. He even went so far as to pat Ashe on the shoulder.
+
+"Good boy!" he said. "Meet me at Paddington Station at four
+o'clock on Friday. And if there's anything more you want to know
+come round to this address."
+
+There remained the telling of Joan Valentine; for it was
+obviously impossible not to tell her. When you have
+revolutionized your life at the bidding of another you cannot
+well conceal the fact, as though nothing had happened. Ashe had
+not the slightest desire to conceal the fact. On the contrary, he
+was glad to have such a capital excuse for renewing the
+acquaintance.
+
+He could not tell her, of course, the secret details of the
+thing. Naturally those must remain hidden. No, he would just go
+airily in and say:
+
+"You know what you told me about doing something new? Well, I've
+just got a job as a valet."
+
+So he went airily in and said it.
+
+"To whom?" said Joan.
+
+"To a man named Peters--an American."
+
+Women are trained from infancy up to conceal their feelings. Joan
+did not start or otherwise express emotion.
+
+"Not Mr. J. Preston Peters?"
+
+"Yes. Do you know him? What a remarkable thing."
+
+"His daughter," said Joan, "has just engaged me as a lady's
+maid."
+
+"What!"
+
+"It will not be quite the same thing as three years ago," Joan
+explained. "It is just a cheap way of getting a holiday. I used
+to know Miss Peters very well, you see. It will be more like
+traveling as her guest."
+
+"But--but--" Ashe had not yet overcome his amazement.
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"But what an extraordinary coincidence!"
+
+"Yes. By the way, how did you get the situation? And what put it
+into your head to be a valet at all? It seems such a curious
+thing for you to think of doing."
+
+Ashe was embarrassed.
+
+"I--I--well, you see, the experience will be useful to me, of
+course, in my writing."
+
+"Oh! Are you thinking of taking up my line of work? Dukes?"
+
+"No, no--not exactly that."
+
+"It seems so odd. How did you happen to get in touch with Mr.
+Peters?"
+
+"Oh, I answered an advertisement."
+
+"I see."
+
+Ashe was becoming conscious of an undercurrent of something not
+altogether agreeable in the conversation. It lacked the gay ease
+of their first interview. He was not apprehensive lest she might
+have guessed his secret. There was, he felt, no possible means by
+which she could have done that. Yet the fact remained that those
+keen blue eyes of hers were looking at him in a peculiar and
+penetrating manner. He felt damped.
+
+"It will be nice, being together," he said feebly.
+
+"Very!" said Joan.
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"I thought I would come and tell you."
+
+"Quite so."
+
+There was another pause.
+
+"It seems so funny that you should be going out as a lady's
+maid."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"But, of course, you have done it before."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The really extraordinary thing is that we should be going to the
+same people."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It--it's remarkable, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Ashe reflected. No; he did not appear to have any further remarks
+to make.
+
+"Good-by for the present," he said.
+
+"Good-by."
+
+Ashe drifted out. He was conscious of a wish that he understood
+girls. Girls, in his opinion, were odd.
+
+When he had gone Joan Valentine hurried to the door and, having
+opened it an inch, stood listening. When the sound of his door
+closing came to her she ran down the stairs and out into Arundell
+Street. She went to the Hotel Mathis.
+
+"I wonder," she said to the sad-eyed waiter, "if you have a copy
+of the Morning Post?"
+
+The waiter, a child of romantic Italy, was only too anxious to
+oblige youth and beauty. He disappeared and presently returned
+with a crumpled copy. Joan thanked him with a bright smile.
+
+Back in her room, she turned to the advertisement pages. She knew
+that life was full of what the unthinking call coincidences; but
+the miracle of Ashe having selected by chance the father of Aline
+Peters as an employer was too much of a coincidence for her.
+Suspicion furrowed her brow.
+
+It did not take her long to discover the advertisement that had
+sent Ashe hurrying in a taxicab to the offices of Messrs.
+Mainprice, Mainprice & Boole. She had been looking for something
+of the kind.
+
+She read it through twice and smiled. Everything was very clear
+to her. She looked at the ceiling above her and shook her head.
+
+"You are quite a nice young man, Mr. Marson," she said softly;
+"but you mustn't try to jump my claim. I dare say you need that
+money too; but I'm afraid you must go without. I am going to have
+it--and nobody else!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+The four-fifteen express slid softly out of Paddington Station
+and Ashe Marson settled himself in the corner seat of his
+second-class compartment. Opposite him Joan Valentine had begun
+to read a magazine. Along the corridor, in a first-class smoking
+compartment, Mr. Peters was lighting a big black cigar. Still
+farther along the corridor, in a first-class non-smoking
+compartment, Aline Peters looked through the window and thought
+of many things.
+
+In English trains the tipping classes travel first; valets,
+lady's maids, footmen, nurses, and head stillroom maids, second;
+and housemaids, grooms, and minor and inferior stillroom maids,
+third. But for these social distinctions, the whole fabric of
+society would collapse and anarchy stalk naked through the
+land--as in the United States.
+
+Ashe was feeling remarkably light-hearted. He wished he had not
+bought Joan that magazine and thus deprived himself temporarily
+of the pleasure of her conversation; but that was the only flaw
+in his happiness. With the starting of the train, which might be
+considered the formal and official beginning of the delicate and
+dangerous enterprise on which he had embarked, he had definitely
+come to the conclusion that the life adventurous was the life for
+him. He had frequently suspected this to be the case, but it had
+required the actual experiment to bring certainty.
+
+Almost more than physical courage, the ideal adventurer needs a
+certain lively inquisitiveness, the quality of not being content
+to mind his own affairs; and in Ashe this quality was highly
+developed. From boyhood up he had always been interested in
+things that were none of his business. And it is just that
+attribute which the modern young man, as a rule, so sadly lacks.
+
+The modern young man may do adventurous things if they are thrust
+on him; but left to himself he will edge away uncomfortably and
+look in the other direction when the goddess of adventure smiles
+at him. Training and tradition alike pluck at his sleeve and urge
+him not to risk making himself ridiculous. And from sheer horror
+of laying himself open to the charge of not minding his own
+business he falls into a stolid disregard of all that is out of
+the ordinary and exciting. He tells himself that the shriek from
+the lonely house he passed just now was only the high note of
+some amateur songstress, and that the maiden in distress whom he
+saw pursued by the ruffian with a knife was merely earning the
+salary paid her by some motion-picture firm. And he proceeds on
+his way, looking neither to left nor right.
+
+Ashe had none of this degenerate coyness toward adventure. Though
+born within easy distance of Boston and deposited by
+circumstances in London, he possessed, nevertheless, to a
+remarkable degree, that quality so essentially the property of
+the New Yorker--the quality known, for want of a more polished
+word, as rubber. It is true that it had needed the eloquence of
+Joan Valentine to stir him from his groove; but that was because
+he was also lazy. He loved new sights and new experiences. Yes;
+he was happy. The rattle of the train shaped itself into a lively
+march. He told himself that he had found the right occupation for
+a young man in the Spring.
+
+Joan, meantime, intrenched behind her magazine, was also busy
+with her thoughts. She was not reading the magazine; she held it
+before her as a protection, knowing that if she laid it down Ashe
+would begin to talk. And just at present she had no desire for
+conversation. She, like Ashe, was contemplating the immediate
+future, but, unlike him, was not doing so with much pleasure. She
+was regretting heartily that she had not resisted the temptation
+to uplift this young man and wishing that she had left him to
+wallow in the slothful peace in which she had found him.
+
+It is curious how frequently in this world our attempts to
+stimulate and uplift swoop back on us and smite us like
+boomerangs. Ashe's presence was the direct outcome of her lecture
+on enterprise, and it added a complication to an already
+complicated venture.
+
+She did her best to be fair to Ashe. It was not his fault that he
+was about to try to deprive her of five thousand dollars, which
+she looked on as her personal property; but illogically she found
+herself feeling a little hostile.
+
+She glanced furtively at him over the magazine, choosing by ill
+chance a moment when he had just directed his gaze at her. Their
+eyes met and there was nothing for it but to talk; so she tucked
+away her hostility in a corner of her mind, where she could find
+it again when she wanted it, and prepared for the time being to
+be friendly. After all, except for the fact that he was her
+rival, this was a pleasant and amusing young man, and one for
+whom, until he made the announcement that had changed her whole
+attitude toward him, she had entertained a distinct feeling of
+friendship--nothing warmer.
+
+There was something about him that made her feel that she would
+have liked to stroke his hair in a motherly way and straighten
+his tie, and have cozy chats with him in darkened rooms by the
+light of open fires, and make him tell her his inmost thoughts,
+and stimulate him to do something really worth while with his
+life; but this, she held, was merely the instinct of a generous
+nature to be kind and helpful even to a comparative stranger.
+
+"Well, Mr. Marson," she said, "Here we are!"
+
+"Exactly what I was thinking," said Ashe.
+
+He was conscious of a marked increase in the exhilaration the
+starting of the expedition had brought to him. At the back of his
+mind he realized there had been all along a kind of wistful
+resentment at the change in this girl's manner toward him.
+During the brief conversation when he had told her of his having
+secured his present situation, and later, only a few minutes
+back, on the platform of Paddington Station, he had sensed a
+coldness, a certain hostility--so different from her pleasant
+friendliness at their first meeting.
+
+She had returned now to her earlier manner and he was surprised
+at the difference it made. He felt somehow younger, more alive.
+The lilt of the train's rattle changed to a gay ragtime. This was
+curious, because Joan was nothing more than a friend. He was not
+in love with her. One does not fall in love with a girl whom one
+has met only three times. One is attracted--yes; but one does not
+fall in love.
+
+A moment's reflection enabled him to diagnose his sensations
+correctly. This odd impulse to leap across the compartment and
+kiss Joan was not love. It was merely the natural desire of a
+good-hearted young man to be decently chummy with his species.
+
+"Well, what do you think of it all, Mr. Marson?" said Joan. "Are
+you sorry or glad that you let me persuade you to do this
+perfectly mad thing? I feel responsible for you, you know. If it
+had not been for me you would have been comfortably in Arundell
+Street, writing your Wand of Death."
+
+"I'm glad."
+
+"You don't feel any misgivings now that you are actually
+committed to domestic service?"
+
+"Not one."
+
+Joan, against her will, smiled approval on this uncompromising
+attitude. This young man might be her rival, but his demeanor on
+the eve of perilous times appealed to her. That was the spirit
+she liked and admired--that reckless acceptance of whatever might
+come. It was the spirit in which she herself had gone into the
+affair and she was pleased to find that it animated Ashe
+also--though, to be sure, it had its drawbacks. It made his
+rivalry the more dangerous. This reflection injected a touch of
+the old hostility into her manner.
+
+"I wonder whether you will continue to feel so brave."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Joan perceived that she was in danger of going too far. She had
+no wish to unmask Ashe at the expense of revealing her own
+secret. She must resist the temptation to hint that she had
+discovered his.
+
+"I meant," she said quickly, "that from what I have seen of him
+Mr. Peters seems likely to be a rather trying man to work for."
+
+Ashe's face cleared. For a moment he had almost suspected that
+she had guessed his errand.
+
+"Yes. I imagine he will be. He is what you might call
+quick-tempered. He has dyspepsia, you know."
+
+"I know."
+
+"What he wants is plenty of fresh air and no cigars, and a
+regular course of those Larsen Exercises that amused you so
+much."
+
+Joan laughed.
+
+"Are you going to try and persuade Mr. Peters to twist himself
+about like that? Do let me see it if you do."
+
+"I wish I could."
+
+"Do suggest it to him."
+
+"Don't you think he would resent it from a valet?"
+
+"I keep forgetting that you are a valet. You look so unlike one."
+
+"Old Peters didn't think so. He rather complimented me on my
+appearance. He said I was ordinary-looking."
+
+"I shouldn't have called you that. You look so very strong and
+fit."
+
+"Surely there are muscular valets?"
+
+"Well, yes; I suppose there are."
+
+Ashe looked at her. He was thinking that never in his life had he
+seen a girl so amazingly pretty. What it was that she had done to
+herself was beyond him; but something, some trick of dress, had
+given her a touch of the demure that made her irresistible. She
+was dressed in sober black, the ideal background for her
+fairness.
+
+"While on the subject," he said, "I suppose you know you don't
+look in the least like a lady's maid? You look like a disguised
+princess."
+
+She laughed.
+
+"That's very nice of you, Mr. Marson, but you're quite wrong.
+Anyone could tell I was a lady's maid, a mile away. You aren't
+criticizing the dress, surely?"
+
+"The dress is all right. It's the general effect. I don't think
+your expression is right. It's--it's--there's too much attack in
+it. You aren't meek enough."
+
+Joan's eyes opened wide.
+
+"Meek! Have you ever seen an English lady's maid, Mr. Marson?"
+
+"Why, no; now that I come to think of it, I don't believe I
+have."
+
+"Well, let me tell you that meekness is her last quality. Why
+should she be meek? Doesn't she go in after the groom of the
+chambers?"
+
+"Go in? Go in where?"
+
+"In to dinner." She smiled at the sight of his bewildered face.
+"I'm afraid you don't know much about the etiquette of the new
+world you have entered so rashly. Didn't you know that the rules
+of precedence among the servants of a big house in England are
+more rigid and complicated than in English society?"
+
+"You're joking!"
+
+"I'm not joking. You try going in to dinner out of your proper
+place when we get to Blandings and see what happens. A public
+rebuke from the butler is the least you could expect."
+
+A bead of perspiration appeared on Ashe's forehead.
+
+"Heavens!" he whispered. "If a butler publicly rebuked me I think
+I should commit suicide. I couldn't survive it."
+
+He stared, with fallen jaw, into the abyss of horror into which
+he had leaped so light-heartedly. The servant problem, on this
+large scale, had been nonexistent for him until now. In the days
+of his youth, at Mayling, Massachusetts, his needs had been
+ministered to by a muscular Swede. Later, at Oxford, there had
+been his "scout" and his bed maker, harmless persons both,
+provided you locked up your whisky. And in London, his last
+phase, a succession of servitors of the type of the disheveled
+maid at Number Seven had tended him.
+
+That, dotted about the land of his adoption, there were houses in
+which larger staffs of domestics were maintained, he had been
+vaguely aware. Indeed, in "Gridley Quayle, Investigator; the
+Adventure of the Missing Marquis"--number four of the series--he
+had drawn a picture of the home life of a duke, in which a butler
+and two powdered footmen had played their parts; but he had had
+no idea that rigid and complicated rules of etiquette swayed the
+private lives of these individuals. If he had given the matter a
+thought he had supposed that when the dinner hour arrived the
+butler and the two footmen would troop into the kitchen and
+squash in at the table wherever they found room.
+
+"Tell me," he said. "Tell me all you know. I feel as though I had
+escaped a frightful disaster."
+
+"You probably have. I don't suppose there is anything so terrible
+as a snub from a butler."
+
+"If there is I can't think of it. When I was at Oxford I used to
+go and stay with a friend of mine who had a butler that looked
+like a Roman emperor in swallowtails. He terrified me. I used to
+grovel to the man. Please give me all the pointers you can."
+
+"Well, as Mr. Peters' valet, I suppose you will be rather a big
+man."
+
+"I shan't feel it."
+
+"However large the house party is, Mr. Peters is sure to be the
+principal guest; so your standing will be correspondingly
+magnificent. You come after the butler, the housekeeper, the
+groom of the chambers, Lord Emsworth's valet, Lady Ann
+Warblington's lady's maid--"
+
+"Who is she?"
+
+"Lady Ann? Lord Emsworth's sister. She has lived with him since
+his wife died. What was I saying? Oh, yes! After them come the
+honorable Frederick Threepwood's valet and myself--and then you."
+
+"I'm not so high up then, after all?"
+
+"Yes, you are. There's a whole crowd who come after you. It all
+depends on how many other guests there are besides Mr. Peters."
+
+"I suppose I charge in at the head of a drove of housemaids and
+scullery maids?"
+
+"My dear Mr. Marson, if a housemaid or a scullery maid tried to
+get into the steward's room and have her meals with us, she would
+be--"
+
+"Rebuked by the butler?"
+
+"Lynched, I should think. Kitchen maids and scullery maids eat in
+the kitchen. Chauffeurs, footmen, under-butler, pantry boys, hall
+boy, odd man and steward's-room footman take their meals in the
+servants' hall, waited on by the hall boy. The stillroom maids
+have breakfast and tea in the stillroom, and dinner and supper in
+the hall. The housemaids and nursery maids have breakfast and tea
+in the housemaid's sitting-room, and dinner and supper in the
+hall. The head housemaid ranks next to the head stillroom maid.
+The laundry maids have a place of their own near the laundry, and
+the head laundry maid ranks above the head housemaid. The chef
+has his meals in a room of his own near the kitchen. Is there
+anything else I can tell you, Mr. Marson?"
+
+Ashe was staring at her with vacant eyes. He shook his head
+dumbly.
+
+"We stop at Swindon in half an hour," said Joan softly. "Don't
+you think you would be wise to get out there and go straight back
+to London, Mr. Marson? Think of all you would avoid!"
+
+Ashe found speech.
+
+"It's a nightmare!"
+
+"You would be far happier in Arundell Street. Why don't you get
+out at Swindon and go back?"
+
+Ashe shook his head.
+
+"I can't. There's--there's a reason."
+
+Joan picked up her magazine again. Hostility had come out from
+the corner into which she had tucked it away and was once more
+filling her mind. She knew it was illogical, but she could not
+help it. For a moment, during her revelations of servants'
+etiquette, she had allowed herself to hope that she had
+frightened her rival out of the field, and the disappointment
+made her feel irritable. She buried herself in a short story, and
+countered Ashe's attempts at renewing the conversation with cold
+monosyllables, until he ceased his efforts and fell into a moody
+silence.
+
+He was feeling hurt and angry. Her sudden coldness, following on
+the friendliness with which she had talked so long, puzzled and
+infuriated him. He felt as though he had been snubbed, and for no
+reason.
+
+He resented the defensive magazine, though he had bought it for
+her himself. He resented her attitude of having ceased to
+recognize his existence. A sadness, a filmy melancholy, crept
+over him. He brooded on the unutterable silliness of humanity,
+especially the female portion of it, in erecting artificial
+barriers to friendship. It was so unreasonable.
+
+At their first meeting, when she might have been excused for
+showing defensiveness, she had treated him with unaffected ease.
+When that meeting had ended there was a tacit understanding
+between them that all the preliminary awkwardnesses of the first
+stages of acquaintanceship were to be considered as having been
+passed; and that when they met again, if they ever did, it would
+be as friends. And here she was, luring him on with apparent
+friendliness, and then withdrawing into herself as though he had
+presumed.
+
+A rebellious spirit took possession of him. He didn't care! Let
+her be cold and distant. He would show her that she had no
+monopoly of those qualities. He would not speak to her until she
+spoke to him; and when she spoke to him he would freeze her with
+his courteous but bleakly aloof indifference.
+
+The train rattled on. Joan read her magazine. Silence reigned in
+the second-class compartment. Swindon was reached and passed.
+Darkness fell on the land. The journey began to seem interminable
+to Ashe; but presently there came a creaking of brakes and the
+train jerked itself to another stop. A voice on the platform made
+itself heard, calling:
+
+"Market Blandings! Market Blandings Station!"
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+The village of Market Blandings is one of those sleepy English
+hamlets that modern progress has failed to touch; except by the
+addition of a railroad station and a room over the grocer's shop
+where moving pictures are on view on Tuesdays and Fridays. The
+church is Norman and the intelligence of the majority of the
+natives Paleozoic. To alight at Market Blandings Station in the
+dusk of a rather chilly Spring day, when the southwest wind has
+shifted to due east and the thrifty inhabitants have not yet lit
+their windows, is to be smitten with the feeling that one is at
+the edge of the world with no friends near.
+
+Ashe, as he stood beside Mr. Peters' baggage and raked the
+unsympathetic darkness with a dreary eye, gave himself up to
+melancholy. Above him an oil lamp shed a meager light. Along the
+platform a small but sturdy porter was juggling with a milk can.
+The east wind explored Ashe's system with chilly fingers.
+
+Somewhere out in the darkness into which Mr. Peters and Aline had
+already vanished in a large automobile, lay the castle, with its
+butler and its fearful code of etiquette. Soon the cart that was
+to convey him and the trunks thither would be arriving. He
+shivered.
+
+Out of the gloom and into the feeble rays of the oil lamp came
+Joan Valentine. She had been away, tucking Aline into the car.
+She looked warm and cheerful. She was smiling in the old friendly
+way.
+
+If girls realized their responsibilities they would be so careful
+when they smiled that they would probably abandon the practice
+altogether. There are moments in a man's life when a girl's smile
+can have as important results as an explosion of dynamite.
+
+In the course of their brief acquaintance Joan had smiled at Ashe
+many times, but the conditions governing those occasions had not
+been such as to permit him to be seriously affected. He had been
+pleased on such occasions; he had admired her smile in a detached
+and critical spirit; but he had not been overwhelmed by it. The
+frame of mind necessary for that result had been lacking.
+
+Now, however, after five minutes of solitude on the depressing
+platform of Market Blandings Station, he was what the
+spiritualists call a sensitive subject. He had reached that depth
+of gloom and bodily discomfort when a sudden smile has all the
+effect of strong liquor and good news administered
+simultaneously, warming the blood and comforting the soul, and
+generally turning the world from a bleak desert into a land
+flowing with milk and honey.
+
+It is not too much to say that he reeled before Joan's smile. It
+was so entirely unexpected. He clutched Mr. Peters' steamer trunk
+in his emotion. All his resolutions to be cold and distant were
+swept away. He had the feeling that in a friendless universe here
+was somebody who was fond of him and glad to see him.
+
+A smile of such importance demands analysis, and in this case
+repays it; for many things lay behind this smile of Joan
+Valentine's on the platform of Market Blandings Station.
+
+In the first place, she had had another of her swift changes of
+mood, and had once again tucked away hostility into its corner.
+She had thought it over and had come to the conclusion that as
+she had no logical grievance against Ashe for anything he had
+done to be distant to him was the behavior of a cat. Consequently
+she resolved, when they should meet again, to resume her attitude
+of good-fellowship. That in itself would have been enough to make
+her smile.
+
+There was another reason, however, which had nothing to do with
+Ashe. While she had been tucking Aline into the automobile she
+met the eye of the driver of that vehicle and had perceived a
+curious look in it--a look of amazement and sheer terror. A
+moment, later, when Aline called the driver Freddie, she had
+understood. No wonder the Honorable Freddie had looked as though
+he had seen a ghost.
+
+It would be a relief to the poor fellow when, as he undoubtedly
+would do in the course of the drive, he inquired of Aline the
+name of her maid and was told that it was Simpson. He would
+mutter something about "Reminds me of a girl I used to know," and
+would brood on the remarkable way in which Nature produces
+doubles. But he had a bad moment, and it was partly at the
+recollection of his face that Joan smiled.
+
+A third reason was because the sight of the Honorable Freddie had
+reminded her that R. Jones had said he had written her poetry.
+That thought, too, had contributed toward the smile which so
+dazzled Ashe.
+
+Ashe, not being miraculously intuitive, accepted the easier
+explanation that she smiled because she was glad to be in his
+company; and this thought, coming on top of his mood of despair
+and general dissatisfaction with everything mundane, acted on him
+like some powerful chemical.
+
+In every man's life there is generally one moment to which in
+later years he can look back and say: "In this moment I fell in
+love!" Such a moment came to Ashe now.
+
+          Betwixt the stirrup and the ground,
+          Mercy I asked; mercy I found.
+
+So sings the poet and so it was with Ashe.
+
+In the almost incredibly brief time it took the small but sturdy
+porter to roll a milk can across the platform and hump it, with a
+clang, against other milk cans similarly treated a moment before,
+Ashe fell in love.
+
+The word is so loosely used, to cover a thousand varying shades
+of emotion--from the volcanic passion of an Antony for a
+Cleopatra to the tepid preference of a grocer's assistant for the
+Irish maid at the second house on Main Street, as opposed to the
+Norwegian maid at the first house past the post office--the mere
+statement that Ashe fell in love is not a sufficient description
+of his feelings as he stood grasping Mr. Peters' steamer trunk.
+Analysis is required.
+
+From his fourteenth year onward Ashe had been in love many times.
+His sensations in the case of Joan were neither the terrific
+upheaval that had caused him, in his fifteenth year, to collect
+twenty-eight photographs of the heroine of the road company of a
+musical comedy which had visited the Hayling Opera House, nor the
+milder flame that had caused him, when at college, to give up
+smoking for a week and try to read the complete works of Ella
+Wheeler Wilcox.
+
+His love was something that lay between these two poles.
+
+He did not wish the station platform of Market Blandings to
+become suddenly congested with red Indians so that he might save
+Joan's life; and he did not wish to give up anything at all. But
+he was conscious--to the very depths of his being--that a future
+in which Joan did not figure would be so insupportable as not to
+bear considering; and in the immediate present he very strongly
+favored the idea of clasping Joan in his arms and kissing her
+until further notice.
+
+Mingled with these feelings was an excited gratitude to her for
+coming to him like this, with that electric smile on her face; a
+stunned realization that she was a thousand times prettier than
+he had ever imagined; and a humility that threatened to make him
+loose his clutch on the steamer trunk and roll about at her feet,
+yapping like a dog.
+
+Gratitude, so far as he could dissect his tangled emotion was the
+predominating ingredient of his mood. Only once in his life had
+he felt so passionately grateful to any human being. On that
+occasion, too, the object of his gratitude had been feminine.
+
+Years before, when a boy in his father's home in distant Hayling,
+Massachusetts, those in authority had commanded that he--in his
+eleventh year and as shy as one can be only at that interesting
+age--should rise in the presence of a roomful of strangers, adult
+guests, and recite "The Wreck of the Hesperus."
+
+He had risen. He had blushed. He had stammered. He had contrived
+to whisper: "It was the Schooner Hesperus." And then, in a corner
+of the room, a little girl, for no properly explained reason, had
+burst out crying. She had yelled, she had bellowed, and would not
+be comforted; and in the ensuing confusion Ashe had escaped to
+the woodpile at the bottom of the garden, saved by a miracle.
+
+All his life he had remembered the gratitude he had felt for that
+little timely girl, and never until now had he experienced any
+other similar spasm. But as he looked at Joan he found himself
+renewing that emotion of fifteen years ago.
+
+She was about to speak. In a sort of trance he watched her lips
+part. He waited almost reverently for the first words she should
+speak to him in her new role of the only authentic goddess.
+
+"Isn't it a shame?" she said. "I've just put a penny in the
+chocolate slot machine--and it's empty! I've a good mind to write
+to the company."
+
+Ashe felt as though he were listening to the strains of some
+grand sweet anthem.
+
+The small but sturdy porter, weary of his work among the milk
+cans, or perhaps--let us not do him an injustice even in
+thought--having finished it, approached them.
+
+"The cart from the castle's here."
+
+In the gloom beyond him there gleamed a light which had not been
+there before. The meditative snort of a horse supported his
+statement. He began to deal as authoritatively with Mr. Peters'
+steamer trunk as he had dealt with the milk cans.
+
+"At last!" said Joan. "I hope it's a covered cart. I'm frozen.
+Let's go and see."
+
+Ashe followed her with the gait of an automaton.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+Cold is the ogre that drives all beautiful things into hiding.
+Below the surface of a frost-bound garden there lurk hidden
+bulbs, which are only biding their time to burst forth in a riot
+of laughing color; but shivering Nature dare not put forth her
+flowers until the ogre has gone. Not otherwise does cold suppress
+love. A man in an open cart on an English Spring night may
+continue to be in love; but love is not the emotion uppermost in
+his bosom. It shrinks within him and waits for better times.
+
+The cart was not a covered cart. It was open to the four winds of
+heaven, of which the one at present active proceeded from the
+bleak east. To this fact may be attributed Ashe's swift recovery
+from the exalted mood into which Joan's smile had thrown him, his
+almost instant emergence from the trance. Deep down in him he was
+aware that his attitude toward Joan had not changed, but his
+conscious self was too fully occupied with the almost hopeless
+task of keeping his blood circulating, to permit of thoughts of
+love. Before the cart had traveled twenty yards he was a mere
+chunk of frozen misery.
+
+After an eternity of winding roads, darkened cottages, and black
+fields and hedges, the cart turned in at a massive iron gate,
+which stood open giving entrance to a smooth gravel drive. Here
+the way ran for nearly a mile through an open park of great trees
+and was then swallowed in the darkness of dense shrubberies.
+Presently to the left appeared lights, at first in ones and twos,
+shining out and vanishing again; then, as the shrubberies ended
+and the smooth lawns and terraces began, blazing down on the
+travelers from a score of windows, with the heartening effect of
+fires on a winter night.
+
+Against the pale gray sky Blandings Castle stood out like a
+mountain. It was a noble pile, of Early Tudor building. Its
+history is recorded in England's history books and Viollet-le-Duc
+has written of its architecture. It dominated the surrounding
+country.
+
+The feature of it which impressed Ashe most at this moment,
+however, was the fact that it looked warm; and for the first time
+since the drive began he found himself in a mood that
+approximated cheerfulness. It was a little early to begin feeling
+cheerful, he discovered, for the journey was by no means over.
+Arrived within sight of the castle, the cart began a detour,
+which, ten minutes later, brought it under an arch and over
+cobblestones to the rear of the building, where it eventually
+pulled up in front of a great door.
+
+Ashe descended painfully and beat his feet against the cobbles.
+He helped Joan to climb down. Joan was apparently in a gentle
+glow. Women seem impervious to cold.
+
+The door opened. Warm, kitcheny scents came through it. Strong
+men hurried out to take down the trunks, while fair women, in the
+shape of two nervous scullery maids, approached Joan and Ashe,
+and bobbed curtsies. This under more normal conditions would have
+been enough to unman Ashe; but in his frozen state a mere
+curtsying scullery maid expended herself harmlessly on him. He
+even acknowledged the greeting with a kindly nod.
+
+The scullery maids, it seemed, were acting in much the same
+capacity as the attaches of royalty. One was there to conduct
+Joan to the presence of Mrs. Twemlow, the housekeeper; the other
+to lead Ashe to where Beach, the butler, waited to do honor to
+the valet of the castle's most important guest.
+
+After a short walk down a stone-flagged passage Joan and her
+escort turned to the right. Ashe's objective appeared to be
+located to the left. He parted from Joan with regret. Her moral
+support would have been welcome.
+
+Presently his scullery maid stopped at a door and tapped thereon.
+A fruity voice, like old tawny port made audible, said: "Come
+in!" Ashe's guide opened the door.
+
+"The gentleman, Mr. Beach," said she, and scuttled away to the
+less rarefied atmosphere of the kitchen.
+
+Ashe's first impression of Beach, the butler, was one of tension.
+Other people, confronted for the first time with Beach, had felt
+the same. He had that strained air of being on the very point of
+bursting that one sees in bullfrogs and toy balloons. Nervous and
+imaginative men, meeting Beach, braced themselves involuntarily,
+stiffening their muscles for the explosion. Those who had the
+pleasure of more intimate acquaintance with him soon passed this
+stage, just as people whose homes are on the slopes of Mount
+Vesuvius become immune to fear of eruptions.
+
+As far back as they could remember Beach had always looked as
+though an apoplectic fit were a matter of minutes; but he never
+had apoplexy and in time they came to ignore the possibility of
+it. Ashe, however, approaching him with a fresh eye, had the
+feeling that this strain could not possibly continue and that
+within a very short space of time the worst must happen. The
+prospect of this did much to rouse him from the coma into which
+he had been frozen by the rigors of the journey.
+
+Butlers as a class seem to grow less and less like anything human
+in proportion to the magnificence of their surroundings. There is
+a type of butler employed in the comparatively modest homes of
+small country gentlemen who is practically a man and a brother;
+who hobnobs with the local tradesmen, sings a good comic song at
+the village inn, and in times of crisis will even turn to and
+work the pump when the water supply suddenly fails.
+
+The greater the house the more does the butler diverge from this
+type. Blandings Castle was one of the more important of England's
+show places, and Beach accordingly had acquired a dignified
+inertia that almost qualified him for inclusion in the vegetable
+kingdom. He moved--when he moved at all--slowly. He distilled
+speech with the air of one measuring out drops of some precious
+drug. His heavy-lidded eyes had the fixed expression of a
+statue's.
+
+With an almost imperceptible wave of a fat white hand, he
+conveyed to Ashe that he desired him to sit down. With a stately
+movement of his other hand, he picked up a kettle, which simmered
+on the hob. With an inclination of his head, he called Ashe's
+attention to a decanter on the table.
+
+In another moment Ashe was sipping a whisky toddy, with the
+feeling that he had been privileged to assist at some mystic
+rite. Mr. Beach, posting himself before the fire and placing his
+hands behind his back, permitted speech to drip from him.
+
+"I have not the advantage of your name, Mr.----"
+
+Ashe introduced himself. Beach acknowledged the information with
+a half bow.
+
+"You must have had a cold ride, Mr. Marson. The wind is in the
+east."
+
+Ashe said yes; the ride had been cold.
+
+"When the wind is in the east," continued Mr. Beach, letting each
+syllable escape with apparent reluctance, "I suffer from my
+feet."
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"I suffer from my feet," repeated the butler, measuring out the
+drops. "You are a young man, Mr. Marson. Probably you do not know
+what it is to suffer from your feet." He surveyed Ashe, his
+whisky toddy and the wall beyond him, with heavy-lidded
+inscrutability. "Corns!" he said.
+
+Ashe said he was sorry.
+
+"I suffer extremely from my feet--not only corns. I have but
+recently recovered from an ingrowing toenail. I suffered greatly
+from my ingrowing toenail. I suffer from swollen joints."
+
+Ashe regarded this martyr with increasing disfavor. It is the
+flaw in the character of many excessively healthy young men that,
+though kind-hearted enough in most respects, they listen with a
+regrettable feeling of impatience to the confessions of those
+less happily situated as regards the ills of the flesh. Rightly
+or wrongly, they hold that these statements should be reserved
+for the ear of the medical profession, and other and more general
+topics selected for conversation with laymen.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said hastily. "You must have had a bad time. Is
+there a large house party here just now?"
+
+"We are expecting," said Mr. Beach, "a number of guests. We shall
+in all probability sit down thirty or more to dinner."
+
+"A responsibility for you," said Ashe ingratiatingly, well
+pleased to be quit of the feet topic.
+
+Mr. Beach nodded.
+
+"You are right, Mr. Marson. Few persons realize the
+responsibilities of a man in my position. Sometimes, I can assure
+you, it preys on my mind, and I suffer from nervous headaches."
+
+Ashe began to feel like a man trying to put out a fire which, as
+fast as he checks it at one point, breaks out at another.
+
+"Sometimes when I come off duty everything gets blurred. The
+outlines of objects grow indistinct and misty. I have to sit down
+in a chair. The pain is excruciating."
+
+"But it helps you to forget the pain in your feet."
+
+"No, no. I suffer from my feet simultaneously."
+
+Ashe gave up the struggle.
+
+"Tell me all about your feet," he said.
+
+And Mr. Beach told him all about his feet.
+
+The pleasantest functions must come to an end, and the moment
+arrived when the final word on the subject of swollen joints was
+spoken. Ashe, who had resigned himself to a permanent
+contemplation of the subject, could hardly believe he heard
+correctly when, at the end of some ten minutes, his companion
+changed the conversation.
+
+"You have been with Mr. Peters some time, Mr. Marson?"
+
+"Eh? Oh! Oh, no only since last Wednesday."
+
+"Indeed! Might I inquire whom you assisted before that?"
+
+For a moment Ashe did what he would not have believed himself
+capable of doing--regretted that the topic of feet was no longer
+under discussion. The question placed him in an awkward position.
+If he lied and credited himself with a lengthy experience as a
+valet, he risked exposing himself. If he told the truth and
+confessed that this was his maiden effort in the capacity of
+gentleman's gentleman, what would the butler think? There were
+objections to each course, but to tell the truth was the easier
+of the two; so he told it.
+
+"Your first situation?" said Mr. Beach. "Indeed!"
+
+"I was--er--doing something else before I met Mr. Peters," said
+Ashe.
+
+Mr. Beach was too well-bred to be inquisitive, but his eyebrows
+were not.
+
+"Ah!" he said. "?" cried his eyebrows. "?--?--?"
+
+Ashe ignored the eyebrows.
+
+"Something different," he said.
+
+There was an awkward silence. Ashe appreciated its awkwardness.
+He was conscious of a grievance against Mr. Peters. Why could not
+Mr. Peters have brought him down here as his secretary? To be
+sure, he had advanced some objection to that course in their
+conversation at the offices of Mainprice, Mainprice & Boole; but
+merely a silly, far-fetched objection. He wished he had had the
+sense to fight the point while there was time; but at the moment
+when they were arranging plans he had been rather tickled by the
+thought of becoming a valet. The notion had a pleasing
+musical-comedy touch about it. Why had he not foreseen the
+complications that must ensue? He could tell by the look on his
+face that this confounded butler was waiting for him to give a
+full explanation. What would he think if he withheld it? He would
+probably suppose that Ashe had been in prison.
+
+Well, there was nothing to be done about it. If Beach was
+suspicious, he must remain suspicious. Fortunately the suspicions
+of a butler do not matter much.
+
+Mr. Beach's eyebrows were still mutely urging him to reveal all,
+but Ashe directed his gaze at that portion of the room which Mr.
+Beach did not fill. He would be hanged if he was going to let
+himself be hypnotized by a pair of eyebrows into incriminating
+himself! He glared stolidly at the pattern of the wallpaper,
+which represented a number of birds of an unknown species seated
+on a corresponding number of exotic shrubs.
+
+The silence was growing oppressive. Somebody had to break it
+soon. And as Mr. Beach was still confining himself to the
+language of the eyebrow and apparently intended to fight it out
+on that line if it took all Summer, Ashe himself broke it.
+
+It seemed to him as he reconstructed the scene in bed that night
+that Providence must have suggested the subject to Mr. Peters'
+indigestion; for the mere mention of his employer's sufferings
+acted like magic on the butler.
+
+"I might have had better luck while I was looking for a place,"
+said Ashe. "I dare say you know how bad-tempered Mr. Peters is.
+He is dyspeptic."
+
+"So," responded Mr. Beach, "I have been informed." He brooded for
+a space. "I, too," he proceeded, "suffer from my stomach. I have
+a weak stomach. The lining of my stomach is not what I could wish
+the lining of my stomach to be."
+
+"Tell me," said Ashe gratefully, leaning forward in an attitude
+of attention, "all about the lining of your stomach."
+
+It was a quarter of an hour later when Mr. Beach was checked in
+his discourse by the chiming of the little clock on the
+mantelpiece. He turned round and gazed at it with surprise not
+unmixed with displeasure.
+
+"So late?" he said. "I shall have to be going about my duties.
+And you, also, Mr. Marson, if I may make the suggestion. No doubt
+Mr. Peters will be wishing to have your assistance in preparing
+for dinner. If you go along the passage outside you will come to
+the door that separates our portion of the house from the other.
+I must beg you to excuse me. I have to go to the cellar."
+
+Following his directions Ashe came after a walk of a few yards to
+a green-baize door, which, swinging at his push, gave him a view
+of what he correctly took to be the main hall of the castle--a
+wide, comfortable space, ringed with settees and warmed by a log
+fire burning in a mammoth fireplace. On the right a broad
+staircase led to the upper regions.
+
+It was at this point that Ashe realized the incompleteness of Mr.
+Beach's directions. Doubtless, the broad staircase would take him
+to the floor on which were the bedrooms; but how was he to
+ascertain, without the tedious process of knocking and inquiring
+at each door, which was the one assigned to Mr. Peters? It was
+too late to go back and ask the butler for further guidance;
+already he was on his way to the cellar in quest of the evening's
+wine.
+
+As he stood irresolute a door across the hall opened and a man of
+his own age came out. Through the doorway, which the young man
+held open for an instant while he answered a question from
+somebody within, Ashe had a glimpse of glass-topped cases.
+
+Could this be the museum--his goal? The next moment the door,
+opening a few inches more, revealed the outlying portions of an
+Egyptian mummy and brought certainty. It flashed across Ashe's
+mind that the sooner he explored the museum and located Mr.
+Peters' scarab, the better. He decided to ask Beach to take him
+there as soon as he had leisure.
+
+Meantime the young man had closed the museum door and was
+crossing the hall. He was a wiry-haired, severe-looking young
+man, with a sharp nose and eyes that gleamed through rimless
+spectacles--none other, in fact than Lord Emsworth's private
+secretary, the Efficient Baxter. Ashe hailed him:
+
+"I say, old man, would you mind telling me how I get to Mr.
+Peters' room? I've lost my bearings."
+
+He did not reflect that this was hardly the way in which valets
+in the best society addressed their superiors. That is the worst
+of adopting what might be called a character part. One can manage
+the business well enough; it is the dialogue that provides the
+pitfalls.
+
+Mr. Baxter would have accorded a hearty agreement to the
+statement that this was not the way in which a valet should have
+spoken to him; but at the moment he was not aware that Ashe was a
+valet. From his easy mode of address he assumed that he was one
+of the numerous guests who had been arriving at the castle all
+day. As he had asked for Mr. Peters, he fancied that Ashe must be
+the Honorable Freddie's American friend, George Emerson, whom he
+had not yet met. Consequently he replied with much cordiality
+that Mr. Peters' room was the second at the left on the second
+floor.
+
+He said Ashe could not miss it. Ashe said he was much obliged.
+
+"Awfully good of you," said Ashe.
+
+"Not at all," said Mr. Baxter.
+
+"You lose your way in a place like this," said Ashe.
+
+"You certainly do," said Mr. Baxter.
+
+Ashe went on his upward path and in a few moments was knocking at
+the door indicated. And sure enough it was Mr. Peters' voice that
+invited him to enter.
+
+Mr. Peters, partially arrayed in the correct garb for gentlemen
+about to dine, was standing in front of the mirror, wrestling
+with his evening tie. As Ashe entered he removed his fingers and
+anxiously examined his handiwork. It proved unsatisfactory. With
+a yelp and an oath, he tore the offending linen from his neck.
+
+"Damn the thing!"
+
+It was plain to Ashe that his employer was in no sunny mood.
+There are few things less calculated to engender sunniness in a
+naturally bad-tempered man than a dress tie that will not let
+itself be pulled and twisted into the right shape. Even when
+things went well, Mr. Peters hated dressing for dinner. Words
+cannot describe his feelings when they went wrong.
+
+There is something to be said in excuse for this impatience: It
+is a hollow mockery to be obliged to deck one's person as for a
+feast when that feast is to consist of a little asparagus and a
+few nuts.
+
+Mr. Peters' eye met Ashe's in the mirror.
+
+"Oh, it's you, is it? Come in, then. Don't stand staring. Close
+that door quick! Hustle! Don't scrape your feet on the floor.
+Try to look intelligent. Don't gape. Where have you been all this
+while? Why didn't you come before? Can you tie a tie? All right,
+then--do it!"
+
+Somewhat calmed by the snow-white butterfly-shaped creation that
+grew under Ashe's fingers, he permitted himself to be helped into
+his coat. He picked up the remnant of a black cigar from the
+dressing-table and relit it.
+
+"I've been thinking about you," he said.
+
+"Yes?" said Ashe.
+
+"Have you located the scarab yet?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What the devil have you been doing with yourself then? You've
+had time to collar it a dozen times."
+
+"I have been talking to the butler."
+
+"What the devil do you waste time talking to butlers for? I
+suppose you haven't even located the museum yet?"
+
+"Yes; I've done that."
+
+"Oh, you have, have you? Well, that's something. And how do you
+propose setting about the job?"
+
+"The best plan would be to go there very late at night."
+
+"Well, you didn't propose to stroll in in the afternoon, did you?
+How are you going to find the scarab when you do get in?"
+
+Ashe had not thought of that. The deeper he went into this
+business the more things did there seem to be in it of which he
+had not thought.
+
+"I don't know," he confessed.
+
+"You don't know! Tell me, young man, are you considered pretty
+bright, as Englishmen go?"
+
+"I am not English. I was born near Boston."
+
+"Oh, you were, were you? You blanked bone-headed, bean-eating
+boob!" cried Mr. Peters, frothing over quite unexpectedly and
+waving his arms in a sudden burst of fury. "Then if you are an
+American why don't you show a little more enterprise? Why don't
+you put something over? Why do you loaf about the place as though
+you were supposed to be an ornament? I want results--and I want
+them quick!
+
+"I'll tell you how you can recognize my scarab when you get into
+the museum. That shameless old green-goods man who sneaked it
+from me has had the gall, the nerve, to put it all by itself,
+with a notice as big as a circus poster alongside of it saying
+that it is a Cheops of the Fourth Dynasty, presented"--Mr. Peters
+choked--"presented by J. Preston Peters, Esquire! That's how
+you're going to recognize it."
+
+Ashe did not laugh, but he nearly dislocated a rib in his effort
+to abstain from doing so. It seemed to him that this act on Lord
+Emsworth's part effectually disposed of the theory that Britons
+have no sense of humor. To rob a man of his choicest possession
+and then thank him publicly for letting you have it appealed to
+Ashe as excellent comedy.
+
+"The thing isn't even in a glass case," continued Mr. Peters.
+"It's lying on an open tray on top of a cabinet of Roman coins.
+Anybody who was left alone for two minutes in the place could
+take it! It's criminal carelessness to leave a valuable scarab
+about like that. If Lord Jesse James was going to steal my Cheops
+he might at least have had the decency to treat it as though it
+was worth something."
+
+"But it makes it easier for me to get it," said Ashe consolingly.
+
+"It's got to be made easy if you are to get it!" snapped Mr.
+Peters. "Here's another thing: You say you are going to try for
+it late at night. Well, what are you going to do if anyone
+catches you prowling round at that time? Have you considered
+that?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You would have to say something, wouldn't you? You wouldn't chat
+about the weather, would you? You wouldn't discuss the latest
+play? You would have to think up some mighty good reason for
+being out of bed at that time, wouldn't you?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"Oh, you do admit that, do you? Well, what you would say is this:
+You would explain that I had rung for you to come and read me to
+sleep. Do you understand?"
+
+"You think that would be a satisfactory explanation of my being
+in the museum?"
+
+"Idiot! I don't mean that you're to say it if you're caught
+actually in the museum. If you're caught in the museum the best
+thing you can do is to say nothing, and hope that the judge will
+let you off light because it's your first offense. You're to say
+it if you're found wandering about on your way there."
+
+"It sounds thin to me."
+
+"Does it? Well, let me tell you that it isn't so thin as you
+suppose, for it's what you will actually have to do most nights.
+Two nights out of three I have to be read to sleep. My
+indigestion gives me insomnia." As though to push this fact home,
+Mr. Peters suddenly bent double. "Oof!" he said. "Wow!" He
+removed the cigar from his mouth and inserted a digestive
+tabloid. "The lining of my stomach is all wrong," he added.
+
+It is curious how trivial are the immediate causes that produce
+revolutions. If Mr. Peters had worded his complaint differently
+Ashe would in all probability have borne it without active
+protest. He had been growing more and more annoyed with this
+little person who buzzed and barked and bit at him, yet the idea
+of definite revolt had not occurred to him. But his sufferings at
+the hands of Beach, the butler, had reduced him to a state where
+he could endure no further mention of stomachic linings. There
+comes a time when our capacity for listening to detailed data
+about the linings of other people's stomachs is exhausted.
+
+He looked at Mr. Peters sternly. He had ceased to be intimidated
+by the fiery little man and regarded him simply as a
+hypochondriac, who needed to be told a few useful facts.
+
+"How do you expect not to have indigestion? You take no exercise
+and you smoke all day long."
+
+The novel sensation of being criticized--and by a beardless youth
+at that--held Mr. Peters silent. He started convulsively, but he
+did not speak. Ashe, on his pet subject, became eloquent. In his
+opinion dyspeptics cumbered the earth. To his mind they had the
+choice between health and sickness, and they deliberately chose
+the latter.
+
+"Your sort of man makes me angry. I know your type inside out.
+You overwork and shirk exercise, and let your temper run away
+with you, and smoke strong cigars on an empty stomach; and when
+you get indigestion as a natural result you look on yourself as a
+martyr, nourish a perpetual grouch, and make the lives of
+everybody you meet miserable. If you would put yourself into my
+hands for a month I would have you eating bricks and thriving on
+them. Up in the morning, Larsen Exercises, cold bath, a brisk
+rubdown, sharp walk--"
+
+"Who the devil asked your opinion, you impertinent young hound?"
+inquired Mr. Peters.
+
+"Don't interrupt--confound you!" shouted Ashe. "Now you have made
+me forget what I was going to say."
+
+There was a tense silence. Then Mr. Peters began to speak:
+
+"You--infernal--impudent--"
+
+"Don't talk to me like that!"
+
+"I'll talk to you just--"
+
+Ashe took a step toward the door. "Very well, then," he said.
+"I'll quit! I'm through! You can get somebody else to do this job
+of yours for you."
+
+The sudden sagging of Mr. Peters' jaw, the look of consternation
+that flashed on his face, told Ashe he had found the right
+weapon--that the game was in his hands. He continued with a
+feeling of confidence:
+
+"If I had known what being your valet involved I wouldn't have
+undertaken the thing for a hundred thousand dollars. Just because
+you had some idiotic prejudice against letting me come down here
+as your secretary, which would have been the simple and obvious
+thing, I find myself in a position where at any moment I may be
+publicly rebuked by the butler and have the head stillroom maid
+looking at me as though I were something the cat had brought in."
+
+His voice trembled with self-pity.
+
+"Do you realize a fraction of the awful things you have let me in
+for? How on earth am I to remember whether I go in before the
+chef or after the third footman? I shan't have a peaceful minute
+while I'm in this place. I've got to sit and listen by the hour
+to a bore of a butler who seems to be a sort of walking hospital.
+I've got to steer my way through a complicated system of
+etiquette.
+
+"And on top of all that you have the nerve, the insolence, to
+imagine that you can use me as a punching bag to work your bad
+temper off! You have the immortal rind to suppose that I will
+stand for being nagged and bullied by you whenever your suicidal
+way of living brings on an attack of indigestion! You have the
+supreme gall to fancy that you can talk as you please to me!
+
+"Very well! I've had enough of it. I resign! If you want this
+scarab of yours recovered let somebody else do it. I've retired
+from business."
+
+He took another step toward the door. A shaking hand clutched at
+his sleeve.
+
+"My boy--my dear boy--be reasonable!"
+
+Ashe was intoxicated with his own oratory. The sensation of
+bullyragging a genuine millionaire was new and exhilarating. He
+expanded his chest and spread his feet like a colossus.
+
+"That's all very well," he said, coldly disentangling himself
+from the hand. "You can't get out of it like that. We have got to
+come to an understanding. The point is that if I am to be
+subjected to your--your senile malevolence every time you have a
+twinge of indigestion, no amount of money could pay me to stop
+on."
+
+"My dear boy, it shall not occur again. I was hasty."
+
+Mr. Peters, with agitated fingers, relit the stump of his cigar.
+
+"Throw away that cigar!"
+
+"My boy!"
+
+"Throw it away! You say you were hasty. Of course you were hasty;
+and as long as you abuse your digestion you will go on being
+hasty. I want something better than apologies. If I am to stop
+here we must get to the root of things. You must put yourself in
+my hands as though I were your doctor. No more cigars. Every
+morning regular exercises."
+
+"No, no!"
+
+"Very well!"
+
+"No; stop! Stop! What sort of exercises?"
+
+"I'll show you to-morrow morning. Brisk walks."
+
+"I hate walking."
+
+"Cold baths."
+
+"No, no!"
+
+"Very well!"
+
+"No; stop! A cold bath would kill me at my age."
+
+"It would put new life into you. Do you consent to the cold
+baths? No? Very well!"
+
+"Yes, yes, yes!"
+
+"You promise?"
+
+"Yes, yes!"
+
+"All right, then."
+
+The distant sound of the dinner gong floated in.
+
+"We settled that just in time," said Ashe.
+
+Mr. Peters regarded him fixedly.
+
+"Young man," he said slowly, "if, after all this, you fail to
+recover my Cheops for me I'll--I'll--By George, I'll skin you!"
+
+"Don't talk like that," said Ashe. "That's another thing you have
+got to remember. If my treatment is to be successful you must not
+let yourself think in that way. You must exercise self-control
+mentally. You must think beautiful thoughts."
+
+"The idea of skinning you is a beautiful thought!" said Mr.
+Peters wistfully.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+In order that their gayety might not be diminished--and the food
+turned to ashes in their mouths by the absence from the festive
+board of Mr. Beach, it was the custom for the upper servants at
+Blandings to postpone the start of their evening meal until
+dinner was nearly over above-stairs. This enabled the butler to
+take his place at the head of the table without fear of
+interruption, except for the few moments when coffee was being
+served.
+
+Every night shortly before half-past eight--at which hour Mr.
+Beach felt that he might safely withdraw from the dining-room and
+leave Lord Emsworth and his guests to the care of Merridew, the
+under-butler, and James and Alfred, the footmen, returning only
+for a few minutes to lend tone and distinction to the
+distribution of cigars and liqueurs--those whose rank entitled
+them to do so made their way to the housekeeper's room, to pass
+in desultory conversation the interval before Mr. Beach should
+arrive, and a kitchen maid, with the appearance of one who has
+been straining at the leash and has at last managed to get free,
+opened the door, with the announcement: "Mr. Beach, if you please,
+dinner is served." On which Mr. Beach, extending a crooked elbow
+toward the housekeeper, would say, "Mrs. Twemlow!" and lead the
+way, high and disposedly, down the passage, followed in order of
+rank by the rest of the company, in couples, to the steward's
+room.
+
+For Blandings was not one of those houses--or shall we say
+hovels?--where the upper servants are expected not only to feed
+but to congregate before feeding in the steward's room. Under the
+auspices of Mr. Beach and of Mrs. Twemlow, who saw eye to eye
+with him in these matters, things were done properly at the
+castle, with the correct solemnity. To Mr. Beach and Mrs. Twemlow
+the suggestion that they and their peers should gather together
+in the same room in which they were to dine would have been as
+repellent as an announcement from Lady Ann Warblington, the
+chatelaine, that the house party would eat in the drawing-room.
+
+When Ashe, returning from his interview with Mr. Peters, was
+intercepted by a respectful small boy and conducted to the
+housekeeper's room, he was conscious of a sensation of shrinking
+inferiority akin to his emotions on his first day at school. The
+room was full and apparently on very cordial terms with itself.
+Everybody seemed to know everybody and conversation was
+proceeding in a manner reminiscent of an Old Home Week.
+
+As a matter of fact, the house party at Blandings being in the
+main a gathering together of the Emsworth clan by way of honor
+and as a means of introduction to Mr. Peters and his daughter,
+the bride-of-the-house-to-be, most of the occupants of the
+housekeeper's room were old acquaintances and were renewing
+interrupted friendships at the top of their voices.
+
+A lull followed Ashe's arrival and all eyes, to his great
+discomfort, were turned in his direction. His embarrassment was
+relieved by Mrs. Twemlow, who advanced to do the honors. Of Mrs.
+Twemlow little need be attempted in the way of pen portraiture
+beyond the statement that she went as harmoniously with Mr.
+Beach as one of a pair of vases or one of a brace of pheasants
+goes with its fellow. She had the same appearance of imminent
+apoplexy, the same air of belonging to some dignified and haughty
+branch of the vegetable kingdom.
+
+"Mr. Marson, welcome to Blandings Castle!"
+
+Ashe had been waiting for somebody to say this, and had been a
+little surprised that Mr. Beach had not done so. He was also
+surprised at the housekeeper's ready recognition of his identity,
+until he saw Joan in the throng and deduced that she must have
+been the source of information.
+
+He envied Joan. In some amazing way she contrived to look not out
+of place in this gathering. He himself, he felt, had impostor
+stamped in large characters all over him.
+
+Mrs. Twemlow began to make the introductions--a long and tedious
+process, which she performed relentlessly, without haste and
+without scamping her work. With each member of the aristocracy of
+his new profession Ashe shook hands, and on each member he
+smiled, until his facial and dorsal muscles were like to crack
+under the strain. It was amazing that so many high-class
+domestics could be collected into one moderate-sized room.
+
+"Miss Simpson you know," said Mrs. Twemlow, and Ashe was about to
+deny the charge when he perceived that Joan was the individual
+referred to. "Mr. Judson, Mr. Marson. Mr. Judson is the Honorable
+Frederick's gentleman."
+
+"You have not the pleasure of our Freddie's acquaintance as yet,
+I take it, Mr. Marson?" observed Mr. Judson genially, a
+smooth-faced, lazy-looking young man. "Freddie repays
+inspection."
+
+"Mr. Marson, permit me to introduce you to Mr. Ferris, Lord
+Stockheath's gentleman."
+
+Mr. Ferris, a dark, cynical man, with a high forehead, shook Ashe
+by the hand.
+
+"Happy to meet you, Mr. Marson."
+
+"Miss Willoughby, this is Mr. Marson, who will take you in to
+dinner. Miss Willoughby is Lady Mildred Mant's lady. As of course
+you are aware, Lady Mildred, our eldest daughter, married Colonel
+Horace Mant, of the Scots Guards."
+
+Ashe was not aware, and he was rather surprised that Mrs. Twemlow
+should have a daughter whose name was Lady Mildred; but reason,
+coming to his rescue, suggested that by our she meant the
+offspring of the Earl of Emsworth and his late countess. Miss
+Willoughby was a light-hearted damsel, with a smiling face and
+chestnut hair, done low over her forehead.
+
+Since etiquette forbade that he should take Joan in to dinner,
+Ashe was glad that at least an apparently pleasant substitute had
+been provided. He had just been introduced to an appallingly
+statuesque lady of the name of Chester, Lady Ann Warblington's
+own maid, and his somewhat hazy recollections of Joan's lecture
+on below-stairs precedence had left him with the impression that
+this was his destined partner. He had frankly quailed at the
+prospect of being linked to so much aristocratic hauteur.
+
+When the final introduction had been made conversation broke out
+again. It dealt almost exclusively, so far as Ashe could follow
+it, with the idiosyncrasies of the employers of those present. He
+took it that this happened down the entire social scale below
+stairs. Probably the lower servants in the servants' hall
+discussed the upper servants in the room, and the still lower
+servants in the housemaids' sitting-room discussed their
+superiors of the servants' hall, and the stillroom gossiped about
+the housemaids' sitting-room.
+
+He wondered which was the bottom circle of all, and came to the
+conclusion that it was probably represented by the small
+respectful boy who had acted as his guide a short while before.
+This boy, having nobody to discuss anybody with, presumably sat
+in solitary meditation, brooding on the odd-job man.
+
+He thought of mentioning this theory to Miss Willoughby, but
+decided that it was too abstruse for her, and contented himself
+with speaking of some of the plays he had seen before leaving
+London. Miss Willoughby was an enthusiast on the drama; and,
+Colonel Mant's military duties keeping him much in town, she had
+had wide opportunities of indulging her tastes. Miss Willoughby
+did not like the country. She thought it dull.
+
+"Don't you think the country dull, Mr. Marson?"
+
+"I shan't find it dull here," said Ashe; and he was surprised to
+discover, through the medium of a pleased giggle, that he was
+considered to have perpetrated a compliment.
+
+Mr. Beach appeared in due season, a little distrait, as becomes a
+man who has just been engaged on important and responsible
+duties.
+
+"Alfred spilled the hock!" Ashe heard him announce to Mrs.
+Twemlow in a bitter undertone. "Within half an inch of his
+lordship's arm he spilled it."
+
+Mrs. Twemlow murmured condolences. Mr. Beach's set expression was
+of one who is wondering how long the strain of existence can be
+supported.
+
+"Mr. Beach, if you please, dinner is served."
+
+The butler crushed down sad thoughts and crooked his elbow.
+
+"Mrs. Twemlow!"
+
+Ashe, miscalculating degrees of rank in spite of all his caution,
+was within a step of leaving the room out of his proper turn; but
+the startled pressure of Miss Willoughby's hand on his arm warned
+him in time. He stopped, to allow the statuesque Miss Chester to
+sail out under escort of a wizened little man with a horseshoe
+pin in his tie, whose name, in company with nearly all the others
+that had been spoken to him since he came into the room, had
+escaped Ashe's memory.
+
+"You were nearly making a bloomer!" said Miss Willoughby
+brightly. "You must be absent-minded, Mr. Marson--like his
+lordship."
+
+"Is Lord Emsworth absent-minded?"
+
+Miss Willoughby laughed.
+
+"Why, he forgets his own name sometimes! If it wasn't for Mr.
+Baxter, goodness knows what would happen to him."
+
+"I don't think I know Mr. Baxter."
+
+"You will if you stay here long. You can't get away from him if
+you're in the same house. Don't tell anyone I said so; but he's
+the real master here. His lordship's secretary he calls himself;
+but he's really everything rolled into one--like the man in the
+play."
+
+Ashe, searching in his dramatic memories for such a person in a
+play, inquired whether Miss Willoughby meant Pooh-Bah, in "The
+Mikado," of which there had been a revival in London recently.
+Miss Willoughby did mean Pooh-Bah.
+
+"But Nosy Parker is what I call him," she said. "He minds
+everybody's business as well as his own."
+
+The last of the procession trickled into the steward's room.
+Mr. Beach said grace somewhat patronizingly. The meal began.
+
+"You've seen Miss Peters, of course, Mr. Marson?" said Miss
+Willoughby, resuming conversation with the soup.
+
+"Just for a few minutes at Paddington."
+
+"Oh! You haven't been with Mr. Peters long, then?"
+
+Ashe began to wonder whether everybody he met was going to ask
+him this dangerous question.
+
+"Only a day or so."
+
+"Where were you before that?"
+
+Ashe was conscious of a prickly sensation. A little more of this
+and he might as well reveal his true mission at the castle and
+have done with it.
+
+"Oh, I was--that is to say----"
+
+"How are you feeling after the journey, Mr. Marson?" said a voice
+from the other side of the table; and Ashe, looking up
+gratefully, found Joan's eyes looking into his with a curiously
+amused expression.
+
+He was too grateful for the interruption to try to account for
+this. He replied that he was feeling very well, which was not the
+case. Miss Willoughby's interest was diverted to a discussion of
+the defects of the various railroad systems of Great Britain.
+
+At the head of the table Mr. Beach had started an intimate
+conversation with Mr. Ferris, the valet of Lord Stockheath, the
+Honorable Freddie's "poor old Percy"--a cousin, Ashe had
+gathered, of Aline Peters' husband-to-be. The butler spoke in
+more measured tones even than usual, for he was speaking of
+tragedy.
+
+"We were all extremely sorry, Mr. Ferris, to read of your
+misfortune."
+
+Ashe wondered what had been happening to Mr. Ferris.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Beach," replied the valet, "it's a fact we made a
+pretty poor show." He took a sip from his glass. "There is no
+concealing the fact--I have never tried to conceal it--that poor
+Percy is not bright."
+
+Miss Chester entered the conversation.
+
+"I couldn't see where the girl--what's her name? was so very
+pretty. All the papers had pieces where it said she was
+attractive, and what not; but she didn't look anything special to
+me from her photograph in the Mirror. What his lordship could see
+in her I can't understand."
+
+"The photo didn't quite do her justice, Miss Chester. I was
+present in court, and I must admit she was svelte--decidedly
+svelte. And you must recollect that Percy, from childhood up, has
+always been a highly susceptible young nut. I speak as one who
+knows him."
+
+Mr. Beach turned to Joan.
+
+"We are speaking of the Stockheath breach-of-promise case, Miss
+Simpson, of which you doubtless read in the newspapers. Lord
+Stockheath is a nephew of ours. I fancy his lordship was greatly
+shocked at the occurrence."
+
+"He was," chimed in Mr. Judson from down the table. "I happened
+to overhear him speaking of it to young Freddie. It was in the
+library on the morning when the judge made his final summing up
+and slipped it into Lord Stockheath so proper. 'If ever anything
+of this sort happens to you, you young scalawag,' he says to
+Freddie--"
+
+Mr. Beach coughed. "Mr. Judson!"
+
+"Oh, it's all right, Mr. Beach; we're all in the family here, in
+a manner of speaking. It wasn't as though I was telling it to a
+lot of outsiders. I'm sure none of these ladies or gentlemen
+will let it go beyond this room?"
+
+The company murmured virtuous acquiescence.
+
+"He says to Freddie: 'You young scalawag, if ever anything of
+this sort happens to you, you can pack up and go off to Canada,
+for I'll have nothing more to do with you!'--or words to that
+effect. And Freddie says: 'Oh, dash it all, gov'nor, you
+know--what?'"
+
+However short Mr. Judson's imitation of his master's voice may
+have fallen of histrionic perfection, it pleased the company. The
+room shook with mirth.
+
+"Mr. Judson is clever, isn't he, Mr. Marson?" whispered Miss
+Willoughby, gazing with adoring eyes at the speaker.
+
+Mr. Beach thought it expedient to deflect the conversation. By
+the unwritten law of the room every individual had the right to
+speak as freely as he wished about his own personal employer; but
+Judson, in his opinion, sometimes went a trifle too far.
+
+"Tell me, Mr. Ferris," he said, "does his lordship seem to bear
+it well?"
+
+"Oh, Percy is bearing it well enough."
+
+Ashe noted as a curious fact that, though the actual valet of any
+person under discussion spoke of him almost affectionately by his
+Christian name, the rest of the company used the greatest
+ceremony and gave him his title with all respect. Lord Stockheath
+was Percy to Mr. Ferris, and the Honorable Frederick Threepwood
+was Freddie to Mr. Judson; but to Ferris, Mr. Judson's Freddie
+was the Honorable Frederick, and to Judson Mr. Ferris' Percy was
+Lord Stockheath. It was rather a pleasant form of etiquette, and
+struck Ashe as somehow vaguely feudal.
+
+"Percy," went on Mr. Ferris, "is bearing it like a little
+Briton--the damages not having come out of his pocket! It's his
+old father--who had to pay them--that's taking it to heart. You
+might say he's doing himself proud. He says it's brought on his
+gout again, and that's why he's gone to Droitwich instead of
+coming here. I dare say Percy isn't sorry."
+
+"It has been," said Mr. Beach, summing up, "a most unfortunate
+occurrence. The modern tendency of the lower classes to get above
+themselves is becoming more marked every day. The young female in
+this case was, I understand, a barmaid. It is deplorable that our
+young men should allow themselves to get into such
+entanglements."
+
+"The wonder to me," said the irrepressible Mr. Judson, "is that
+more of these young chaps don't get put through it. His lordship
+wasn't so wide of the mark when he spoke like that to Freddie in
+the library that time. I give you my word, it's a mercy young
+Freddie hasn't been up against it! When we were in London,
+Freddie and I," he went on, cutting through Mr. Beach's
+disapproving cough, "before what you might call the crash, when
+his lordship cut off supplies and had him come back and live
+here, Freddie was asking for it--believe me! Fell in love with a
+girl in the chorus of one of the theaters. Used to send me to the
+stage door with notes and flowers every night for weeks, as
+regular as clockwork.
+
+"What was her name? It's on the tip of my tongue. Funny how you
+forget these things! Freddie was pretty far gone. I recollect
+once, happening to be looking round his room in his absence,
+coming on a poem he had written to her. It was hot stuff--very
+hot! If that girl has kept those letters it's my belief we shall
+see Freddie following in Lord Stockheath's footsteps."
+
+There was a hush of delighted horror round the table.
+
+"Goo'," said Miss Chester's escort with unction. "You don't say
+so, Mr. Judson! It wouldn't half make them look silly if the
+Honorable Frederick was sued for breach just now, with the
+wedding coming on!"
+
+"There is no danger of that."
+
+It was Joan's voice, and she had spoken with such decision that
+she had the ear of the table immediately. All eyes looked in her
+direction. Ashe was struck with her expression. Her eyes were
+shining as though she were angry; and there was a flush on her
+face. A phrase he had used in the train came back to him. She
+looked like a princess in disguise.
+
+"What makes you say that, Miss Simpson?" inquired Judson,
+annoyed. He had been at pains to make the company's flesh creep,
+and it appeared to be Joan's aim to undo his work.
+
+It seemed to Ashe that Joan made an effort of some sort as though
+she were pulling herself together and remembering where she was.
+
+"Well," she said, almost lamely, "I don't think it at all likely
+that he proposed marriage to this girl."
+
+"You never can tell," said Judson. "My impression is that Freddie
+did. It's my belief that there's something on his mind these
+days. Before he went to London with his lordship the other day he
+was behaving very strange. And since he came back it's my belief
+that he has been brooding. And I happen to know he followed the
+affair of Lord Stockheath pretty closely, for he clipped the
+clippings out of the paper. I found them myself one day when I
+happened to be going through his things."
+
+Beach cleared his throat--his mode of indicating that he was
+about to monopolize the conversation.
+
+"And in any case, Miss Simpson," he said solemnly, "with things
+come to the pass they have come to, and the juries--drawn from
+the lower classes--in the nasty mood they're in, it don't seem
+hardly necessary in these affairs for there to have been any
+definite promise of marriage. What with all this socialism
+rampant, they seem so happy at the idea of being able to do one
+of us an injury that they give heavy damages without it. A few
+ardent expressions, and that's enough for them. You recollect the
+Havant case, and when young Lord Mount Anville was sued? What it
+comes to is that anarchy is getting the upper hand, and the lower
+classes are getting above themselves. It's all these here cheap
+newspapers that does it. They tempt the lower classes to get
+above themselves.
+
+"Only this morning I had to speak severe to that young fellow,
+James, the footman. He was a good young fellow once and did his
+work well, and had a proper respect for people; but now he's gone
+all to pieces. And why? Because six months ago he had the
+rheumatism, and had the audacity to send his picture and a
+testimonial, saying that it had cured him of awful agonies, to
+Walkinshaw's Supreme Ointment, and they printed it in half a
+dozen papers; and it has been the ruin of James. He has got above
+himself and don't care for nobody."
+
+"Well, all I can say is," resumed Judson, "that I hope to
+goodness nothing won't happen to Freddie of that kind; for it's
+not every girl that would have him."
+
+There was a murmur of assent to this truth.
+
+"Now your Miss Peters," said Judson tolerantly--"she seems a nice
+little thing."
+
+"She would be pleased to hear you say so," said Joan.
+
+"Joan Valentine!" cried Judson, bringing his hands down on the
+tablecloth with a bang. "I've just remembered it. That was the
+name of the girl Freddie used to write the letters and poems to;
+and that's who it is I've been trying all along to think you
+reminded me of, Miss Simpson. You're the living image of
+Freddie's Miss Joan Valentine."
+
+Ashe was not normally a young man of particularly ready wit; but
+on this occasion it may have been that the shock of this
+revelation, added to the fact that something must be done
+speedily if Joan's discomposure was not to become obvious to all
+present, quickened his intelligence. Joan, usually so sure of
+herself, so ready of resource, had gone temporarily to pieces.
+She was quite white, and her eyes met Ashe's with almost a hunted
+expression.
+
+If the attention of the company was to be diverted, something
+drastic must be done. A mere verbal attempt to change the
+conversation would be useless. Inspiration descended on Ashe.
+
+In the days of his childhood in Hayling, Massachusetts, he had
+played truant from Sunday school again and again in order to
+frequent the society of one Eddie Waffles, the official bad boy
+of the locality. It was not so much Eddie's charm of conversation
+which had attracted him--though that had been great--as the fact
+that Eddie, among his other accomplishments, could give a
+lifelike imitation of two cats fighting in a back yard; and Ashe
+felt that he could never be happy until he had acquired this gift
+from the master.
+
+In course of time he had done so. It might be that his absences
+from Sunday school in the cause of art had left him in later
+years a trifle shaky on the subject of the Kings of Judah, but
+his hard-won accomplishment had made him in request at every
+smoking concert at Oxford; and it saved the situation now.
+
+"Have you ever heard two cats fighting in a back yard?" he
+inquired casually of his neighbor, Miss Willoughby.
+
+The next moment the performance was in full swing. Young Master
+Waffles, who had devoted considerable study to his subject, had
+conceived the combat of his imaginary cats in a broad, almost
+Homeric, vein. The unpleasantness opened with a low gurgling
+sound, answered by another a shade louder and possibly more
+querulous. A momentary silence was followed by a long-drawn note,
+like rising wind, cut off abruptly and succeeded by a grumbling
+mutter. The response to this was a couple of sharp howls. Both
+parties to the contest then indulged in a discontented whining,
+growing louder and louder until the air was full of electric
+menace. And then, after another sharp silence, came war, noisy
+and overwhelming.
+
+Standing at Master Waffles' side, you could follow almost every
+movement of that intricate fray, and mark how now one and now the
+other of the battlers gained a short-lived advantage. It was a
+great fight. Shrewd blows were taken and given, and in the eye of
+the imagination you could see the air thick with flying fur.
+Louder and louder grew the din; and then, at its height, it
+ceased in one crescendo of tumult, and all was still, save for a
+faint, angry moaning.
+
+Such was the cat fight of Master Eddie Waffles; and Ashe, though
+falling short of the master, as a pupil must, rendered it
+faithfully and with energy.
+
+To say that the attention of the company was diverted from Mr.
+Judson and his remarks by the extraordinary noises which
+proceeded from Ashe's lips would be to offer a mere shadowy
+suggestion of the sensation caused by his efforts. At first,
+stunned surprise, then consternation, greeted him. Beach, the
+butler, was staring as one watching a miracle, nearer apparently
+to apoplexy than ever. On the faces of the others every shade of
+emotion was to be seen.
+
+That this should be happening in the steward's room at Blandings
+Castle was scarcely less amazing than if it had taken place in a
+cathedral. The upper servants, rigid in their seats, looked at
+each other, like Cortes' soldiers--"with a wild surmise."
+
+The last faint moan of feline defiance died away and silence fell
+on the room. Ashe turned to Miss Willoughby.
+
+"Just like that!" he said. "I was telling Miss Willoughby," he
+added apologetically to Mrs. Twemlow, "about the cats in London.
+They were a great trial."
+
+For perhaps three seconds his social reputation swayed to and fro
+in the balance, while the company pondered on what he had done.
+It was new; but it was humorous--or was it vulgar? There is
+nothing the English upper servant so abhors as vulgarity. That
+was what the steward's room was trying to make up its mind about.
+
+Then Miss Willoughby threw her shapely head back and the squeal
+of her laughter smote the ceiling. And at that the company made
+its decision. Everybody laughed. Everybody urged Ashe to give an
+encore. Everybody was his friend and admirer---everybody but
+Beach, the butler. Beach, the butler, was shocked to his very
+core. His heavy-lidded eyes rested on Ashe with disapproval. It
+seemed to Beach, the butler, that this young man Marson had got
+above himself.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+Ashe found Joan at his side. Dinner was over and the diners were
+making for the housekeeper's room.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Marson. That was very good of you and very
+clever." Her eyes twinkled. "But what a terrible chance you took!
+You have made yourself a popular success, but you might just as
+easily have become a social outcast. As it is, I am afraid Mr.
+Beach did not approve."
+
+"I'm afraid he didn't. In a minute or so I'm going to fawn on him
+and make all well."
+
+Joan lowered her voice.
+
+"It was quite true, what that odious little man said. Freddie
+Threepwood did write me letters. Of course I destroyed them long
+ago."
+
+"But weren't you running the risk in coming here that he might
+recognize you? Wouldn't that make it rather unpleasant for you?"
+
+"I never met him, you see. He only wrote to me. When he came to
+the station to meet us this evening he looked startled to see me;
+so I suppose he remembers my appearance. But Aline will have told
+him that my name is Simpson."
+
+"That fellow Judson said he was brooding. I think you ought to
+put him out of his misery."
+
+"Mr. Judson must have been letting his imagination run away with
+him. He is out of his misery. He sent a horrid fat man named
+Jones to see me in London about the letters, and I told him I had
+destroyed them. He must have let him know that by this time."
+
+"I see."
+
+They went into the housekeeper's room. Mr. Beach was standing
+before the fire. Ashe went up to him. It was not an easy matter
+to mollify Mr. Beach. Ashe tried the most tempting topics. He
+mentioned swollen feet--he dangled the lining of Mr. Beach's
+stomach temptingly before his eyes; but the butler was not to be
+softened. Only when Ashe turned the conversation to the subject
+of the museum did a flicker of animation stir him.
+
+Mr. Beach was fond and proud of the Blandings Castle museum. It
+had been the means of getting him into print for the first and
+only time in his life. A year before, a representative of the
+Intelligencer and Echo, from the neighboring town of Blatchford,
+had come to visit the castle on behalf of his paper; and he had
+begun one section of his article with the words: "Under the
+auspices of Mr. Beach, my genial cicerone, I then visited his
+lordship's museum--" Mr. Beach treasured the clipping in a
+special writing-desk.
+
+He responded almost amiably to Ashe's questions. Yes; he had seen
+the scarab--he pronounced it scayrub--which Mr. Peters had
+presented to his lordship. He understood that his lordship
+thought very highly of Mr. Peters' scayrub. He had overheard Mr.
+Baxter telling his lordship that it was extremely valuable.
+
+"Mr. Beach," said Ashe, "I wonder whether you would take me to
+see Lord Emsworth's museum?"
+
+Mr. Beach regarded him heavily.
+
+"I shall be pleased to take you to see his lordship's museum," he
+replied.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+One can attribute only to the nervous mental condition following
+the interview he had had with Ashe in his bedroom the rash act
+Mr. Peters attempted shortly after dinner.
+
+Mr. Peters, shortly after dinner, was in a dangerous and reckless
+mood. He had had a wretched time all through the meal. The
+Blandings chef had extended himself in honor of the house party,
+and had produced a succession of dishes, which in happier days
+Mr. Peters would have devoured eagerly. To be compelled by
+considerations of health to pass these by was enough to damp the
+liveliest optimist. Mr. Peters had suffered terribly. Occasions
+of feasting and revelry like the present were for him so many
+battlefields, on which greed fought with prudence.
+
+All through dinner he brooded on Ashe's defiance and the horrors
+which were to result from that defiance. One of Mr. Peters' most
+painful memories was of a two weeks' visit he had once paid to
+Mr. Muldoon in his celebrated establishment at White Plains. He
+had been persuaded to go there by a brother millionaire whom,
+until then, he had always regarded as a friend. The memory of Mr.
+Muldoon's cold shower baths and brisk system of physical exercise
+still lingered.
+
+The thought that under Ashe's rule he was to go through privately
+very much what he had gone through in the company of a gang of
+other unfortunates at Muldoon's froze him with horror. He knew
+those health cranks who believed that all mortal ailments could
+be cured by cold showers and brisk walks. They were all alike and
+they nearly killed you. His worst nightmare was the one where he
+dreamed he was back at Muldoon's, leading his horse up that
+endless hill outside the village.
+
+He would not stand it! He would be hanged if he'd stand it! He
+would defy Ashe. But if he defied Ashe, Ashe would go away; and
+then whom could he find to recover his lost scarab?
+
+Mr. Peters began to appreciate the true meaning of the phrase
+about the horns of a dilemma. The horns of this dilemma occupied
+his attention until the end of the dinner. He shifted uneasily
+from one to the other and back again. He rose from the table in a
+thoroughly overwrought condition of mind. And then, somehow, in
+the course of the evening, he found himself alone in the hall,
+not a dozen feet from the unlocked museum door.
+
+It was not immediately that he appreciated the significance of
+this fact. He had come to the hall because its solitude suited
+his mood. It was only after he had finished a cigar--Ashe could
+not stop his smoking after dinner--that it suddenly flashed on
+him that he had ready at hand a solution of all his troubles. A
+brief minute's resolute action and the scarab would be his again,
+and the menace of Ashe a thing of the past. He glanced about him.
+Yes; he was alone.
+
+Not once since the removal of the scarab had begun to exercise
+his mind had Mr. Peters contemplated for an instant the
+possibility of recovering it himself. The prospect of the
+unpleasantness that would ensue had been enough to make him
+regard such an action as out of the question. The risk was too
+great to be considered for a moment; but here he was, in a
+position where the risk was negligible!
+
+Like Ashe, he had always visualized the recovery of his scarab as
+a thing of the small hours, a daring act to be performed when
+sleep held the castle in its grip. That an opportunity would be
+presented to him of walking in quite calmly and walking out again
+with the Cheops in his pocket, had never occurred to him as a
+possibility.
+
+Yet now this chance was presenting itself in all its simplicity,
+and all he had to do was to grasp it. The door of the museum was
+not even closed. He could see from where he stood that it was
+ajar.
+
+He moved cautiously in its direction--not in a straight line as
+one going to a museum, but circuitously as one strolling without
+an aim. From time to time he glanced over his shoulder. He
+reached the door, hesitated, and passed it. He turned, reached
+the door again--and again passed it. He stood for a moment
+darting his eyes about the hall; then, in a burst of resolution,
+he dashed for the door and shot in like a rabbit.
+
+At the same moment the Efficient Baxter, who, from the shelter of
+a pillar on the gallery that ran around two-thirds of the hall,
+had been eyeing the peculiar movements of the distinguished guest
+with considerable interest for some minutes, began to descend the
+stairs.
+
+Rupert Baxter, the Earl of Emsworth's indefatigable private
+secretary, was one of those men whose chief characteristic is a
+vague suspicion of their fellow human beings. He did not suspect
+them of this or that definite crime; he simply suspected them. He
+prowled through life as we are told the hosts of Midian prowled.
+
+His powers in this respect were well-known at Blandings Castle.
+The Earl of Emsworth said: "Baxter is invaluable--positively
+invaluable." The Honorable Freddie said: "A chappie can't take a
+step in this bally house without stumbling over that damn feller,
+Baxter!" The manservant and the maidservant within the gates,
+like Miss Willoughby, employing that crisp gift for
+characterization which is the property of the English lower
+orders, described him as a Nosy Parker.
+
+Peering over the railing of the balcony and observing the curious
+movements of Mr. Peters, who, as a matter of fact, while making
+up his mind to approach the door, had been backing and filling
+about the hall in a quaint serpentine manner like a man trying to
+invent a new variety of the tango, the Efficient Baxter had found
+himself in some way--why, he did not know--of what, he could not
+say--but in some nebulous way, suspicious.
+
+He had not definitely accused Mr. Peters in his mind of any
+specific tort or malfeasance. He had merely felt that something
+fishy was toward. He had a sixth sense in such matters.
+
+But when Mr. Peters, making up his mind, leaped into the museum,
+Baxter's suspicions lost their vagueness and became crystallized.
+Certainty descended on him like a bolt from the skies. On oath,
+before a notary, the Efficient Baxter would have declared that J.
+Preston Peters was about to try to purloin the scarab.
+
+Lest we should seem to be attributing too miraculous powers of
+intuition to Lord Emsworth's secretary, it should be explained
+that the mystery which hung about that curio had exercised his
+mind not a little since his employer had given it to him to place
+in the museum. He knew Lord Emsworth's power of forgetting and he
+did not believe his account of the transaction. Scarab maniacs
+like Mr. Peters did not give away specimens from their
+collections as presents. But he had not divined the truth of what
+had happened in London.
+
+The conclusion at which he had arrived was that Lord Emsworth had
+bought the scarab and had forgotten all about it. To support this
+theory was the fact that the latter had taken his check book to
+London with him. Baxter's long acquaintance with the earl had
+left him with the conviction that there was no saying what he
+might not do if left loose in London with a check book.
+
+As to Mr. Peters' motive for entering the museum, that, too,
+seemed completely clear to the secretary. He was a curio
+enthusiast himself and he had served collectors in a secretarial
+capacity; and he knew, both from experience and observation, that
+strange madness which may at any moment afflict the collector,
+blotting out morality and the nice distinction between meum and
+tuum, as with a sponge. He knew that collectors who would not
+steal a loaf if they were starving might--and did--fall before
+the temptation of a coveted curio.
+
+He descended the stairs three at a time, and entered the museum
+at the very instant when Mr. Peters' twitching fingers were about
+to close on his treasure. He handled the delicate situation with
+eminent tact. Mr. Peters, at the sound of his step, had executed a
+backward leap, which was as good as a confession of guilt, and
+his face was rigid with dismay; but the Efficient Baxter
+pretended not to notice these phenomena. His manner, when he
+spoke, was easy and unembarrassed.
+
+"Ah! Taking a look at our little collection, Mr. Peters? You will
+see that we have given the place of honor to your Cheops. It is
+certainly a fine specimen--a wonderfully fine specimen."
+
+Mr. Peters was recovering slowly. Baxter talked on, to give him
+time. He spoke of Mut and Bubastis, of Ammon and the Book of the
+Dead. He directed the other's attention to the Roman coins.
+
+He was touching on some aspects of the Princess Gilukhipa of
+Mitanni, in whom his hearer could scarcely fail to be interested,
+when the door opened and Beach, the butler, came in, accompanied
+by Ashe. In the bustle of the interruption Mr. Peters escaped,
+glad to be elsewhere, and questioning for the first time in his
+life the dictum that if you want a thing well done you must do it
+yourself.
+
+"I was not aware, sir," said Beach, the butler, "that you were in
+occupation of the museum. I would not have intruded; but this
+young man expressed a desire to examine the exhibits, and I took
+the liberty of conducting him."
+
+"Come in, Beach--come in," said Baxter.
+
+The light fell on Ashe's face, and he recognized him as the
+cheerful young man who had inquired the way to Mr. Peters' room
+before dinner and who, he had by this time discovered, was not
+the Honorable Freddie's friend, George Emerson--or, indeed, any
+other of the guests of the house. He felt suspicious.
+
+"Oh, Beach!"
+
+"Sir?"
+
+"Just a moment."
+
+He drew the butler into the hall, out of earshot.
+
+"Beach, who is that man?"
+
+"Mr. Peters' valet, sir."
+
+"Mr. Peters' valet!"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Has he been in service long?" asked Baxter, remembering that a
+mere menial had addressed him as "old man."
+
+Beach lowered his voice. He and the Efficient Baxter were old
+allies, and it seemed right to Beach to confide in him.
+
+"He has only just joined Mr. Peters, sir; and he has never been
+in service before. He told me so himself, and I was unable to
+elicit from him any information as to his antecedents. His manner
+struck me, sir, as peculiar. It crossed my mind to wonder whether
+Mr. Peters happened to be aware of this. I should dislike to do
+any young man an injury; but it might be anyone coming to a
+gentleman without a character, like this young man. Mr. Peters
+might have been deceived, sir."
+
+The Efficient Baxter's manner became distraught. His mind was
+working rapidly.
+
+"Should he be informed, sir?"
+
+"Eh! Who?"
+
+"Mr. Peters, sir--in case he should have been deceived?"
+
+"No, no; Mr. Peters knows his own business."
+
+"Far from me be it to appear officious, sir; but--"
+
+"Mr. Peters probably knows all about him. Tell me, Beach, who was
+it suggested this visit to the museum? Did you?"
+
+"It was at the young man's express desire that I conducted him,
+sir."
+
+The Efficient Baxter returned to the museum without a word.
+Ashe, standing in the middle of the room, was impressing the
+topography of the place on his memory. He was unaware of the
+piercing stare of suspicion that was being directed at him from
+behind.
+
+He did not see Baxter. He was not even thinking of Baxter; but
+Baxter was on the alert. Baxter was on the warpath. Baxter knew!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Among the compensations of advancing age is a wholesome
+pessimism, which, though it takes the fine edge off of whatever
+triumphs may come to us, has the admirable effect of preventing
+Fate from working off on us any of those gold bricks, coins with
+strings attached, and unhatched chickens, at which ardent youth
+snatches with such enthusiasm, to its subsequent disappointment.
+As we emerge from the twenties we grow into a habit of mind that
+looks askance at Fate bearing gifts. We miss, perhaps, the
+occasional prize, but we also avoid leaping light-heartedly into
+traps.
+
+Ashe Marson had yet to reach the age of tranquil mistrust; and
+when Fate seemed to be treating him kindly he was still young
+enough to accept such kindnesses on their face value and rejoice
+at them.
+
+As he sat on his bed at the end of his first night in Castle
+Blandings, he was conscious to a remarkable degree that Fortune
+was treating him well. He had survived--not merely without
+discredit, but with positive triumph--the initiatory plunge into
+the etiquette maelstrom of life below stairs. So far from doing
+the wrong thing and drawing down on himself the just scorn of the
+steward's room, he had been the life and soul of the party. Even
+if to-morrow, in an absent-minded fit, he should anticipate the
+groom of the chambers in the march to the table, he would be
+forgiven; for the humorist has his privileges.
+
+So much for that. But that was only a part of Fortune's
+kindnesses. To have discovered on the first day of their
+association the correct method of handling and reducing to
+subjection his irascible employer was an even greater boon. A
+prolonged association with Mr. Peters on the lines in which their
+acquaintance had begun would have been extremely trying. Now, by
+virtue of a fortunate stand at the outset, he had spiked the
+millionaire's guns.
+
+Thirdly, and most important of all, he had not only made himself
+familiar with the locality and surroundings of the scarab, but he
+had seen, beyond the possibility of doubt, that the removal of it
+and the earning of the five thousand dollars would be the
+simplest possible task. Already he was spending the money in his
+mind. And to such lengths had optimism led him that, as he sat on
+his bed reviewing the events of the day, his only doubt was
+whether to get the scarab at once or to let it remain where it
+was until he had the opportunity of doing Mr. Peters' interior
+good on the lines he had mapped out in their conversation; for,
+of course, directly he had restored the scarab to its rightful
+owner and pocketed the reward, his position as healer and trainer
+to the millionaire would cease automatically.
+
+He was sorry for that, because it troubled him to think that a
+sick man would not be made well; but, on the whole, looking at it
+from every aspect, it would be best to get the scarab as soon as
+possible and leave Mr. Peters' digestion to look after itself.
+Being twenty-six and an optimist, he had no suspicion that Fate
+might be playing with him; that Fate might have unpleasant
+surprises in store; that Fate even now was preparing to smite him
+in his hour of joy with that powerful weapon, the Efficient
+Baxter.
+
+He looked at his watch. It was five minutes to one. He had no
+idea whether they kept early hours at Blandings Castle or not,
+but he deemed it prudent to give the household another hour in
+which to settle down. After which he would just trot down and
+collect the scarab.
+
+The novel he had brought down with him from London fortunately
+proved interesting. Two o'clock came before he was ready for it.
+He slipped the book into his pocket and opened the door.
+
+All was still--still and uncommonly dark. Along the corridor on
+which his room was situated the snores of sleeping domestics
+exploded, growled and twittered in the air. Every menial on the
+list seemed to be snoring, some in one key, some in another, some
+defiantly, some plaintively; but the main fact was that they were
+all snoring somehow, thus intimating that, so far as this side of
+the house was concerned, the coast might be considered clear and
+interruption of his plans a negligible risk.
+
+Researches made at an earlier hour had familiarized him with the
+geography of the place. He found his way to the green-baize door
+without difficulty and, stepping through, was in the hall, where
+the remains of the log fire still glowed a fitful red. This,
+however, was the only illumination, and it was fortunate that he
+did not require light to guide him to the museum.
+
+He knew the direction and had measured the distance. It was
+precisely seventeen steps from where he stood. Cautiously, and
+with avoidance of noise, he began to make the seventeen steps.
+
+He was beginning the eleventh when he bumped into somebody--
+somebody soft--somebody whose hand, as it touched his, felt small
+and feminine.
+
+The fragment of a log fell on the ashes and the fire gave a dying
+spurt. Darkness succeeded the sudden glow. The fire was out.
+That little flame had been its last effort before expiring, but
+it had been enough to enable him to recognize Joan Valentine.
+
+"Good Lord!" he gasped.
+
+His astonishment was short-lived. Next moment the only thing that
+surprised him was the fact that he was not more surprised. There
+was something about this girl that made the most bizarre
+happenings seem right and natural. Ever since he had met her his
+life had changed from an orderly succession of uninteresting days
+to a strange carnival of the unexpected, and use was accustoming
+him to it. Life had taken on the quality of a dream, in which
+anything might happen and in which everything that did happen was
+to be accepted with the calmness natural in dreams.
+
+It was strange that she should be here in the pitch-dark hall in
+the middle of the night; but--after all--no stranger than that he
+should be. In this dream world in which he now moved it had to be
+taken for granted that people did all sorts of odd things from
+all sorts of odd motives.
+
+"Hello!" he said.
+
+"Don't be alarmed."
+
+"No, no!"
+
+"I think we are both here for the same reason."
+
+"You don't mean to say--"
+
+"Yes; I have come here to earn the five thousand dollars, too,
+Mr. Marson. We are rivals."
+
+In his present frame of mind it seemed so simple and intelligible
+to Ashe that he wondered whether he was really hearing it the
+first time. He had an odd feeling that he had known this all
+along.
+
+"You are here to get the scarab?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+Ashe was dimly conscious of some objection to this, but at first
+it eluded him. Then he pinned it down.
+
+"But you aren't a young man of good appearance," he said.
+
+"I don't know what you mean. But Aline Peters is an old friend of
+mine. She told me her father would give a large reward to whoever
+recovered the scarab; so I--"
+
+"Look out!" whispered Ashe. "Run! There's somebody coming!"
+
+There was a soft footfall on the stairs, a click, and above
+Ashe's head a light flashed out. He looked round. He was alone,
+and the green-baize door was swaying gently to and fro.
+
+"Who's that? Who's there?" said a voice.
+
+The Efficient Baxter was coming down the broad staircase.
+
+A general suspicion of mankind and a definite and particular
+suspicion of one individual made a bad opiate. For over an hour
+sleep had avoided the Efficient Baxter with an unconquerable
+coyness. He had tried all the known ways of wooing slumber, but
+they had failed him, from the counting of sheep downward. The
+events of the night had whipped his mind to a restless activity.
+Try as he might to lose consciousness, the recollection of the
+plot he had discovered surged up and kept him wakeful.
+
+It is the penalty of the suspicious type of mind that it suffers
+from its own activity. From the moment he detected Mr. Peters in
+the act of rifling the museum and marked down Ashe as an
+accomplice, Baxter's repose was doomed. Nor poppy nor mandragora,
+nor all the drowsy sirups of the world, could ever medicine him
+to that sweet sleep which he owed yesterday.
+
+But it was the recollection that on previous occasions of
+wakefulness hot whisky and water had done the trick, which had
+now brought him from his bed and downstairs. His objective was
+the decanter on the table of the smoking-room, which was one of
+the rooms opening on the gallery that looked down on the hall.
+Hot water he could achieve in his bedroom by means of his stove.
+
+So out of bed he had climbed and downstairs he had come; and here
+he was, to all appearances, just in time to foil the very plot on
+which he had been brooding. Mr. Peters might be in bed, but there
+in the hall below him stood the accomplice, not ten paces from
+the museum's door. He arrived on the spot at racing speed and
+confronted Ashe.
+
+"What are you doing here?"
+
+And then, from the Baxter viewpoint, things began to go wrong. By
+all the rules of the game, Ashe, caught, as it were, red-handed,
+should have wilted, stammered and confessed all; but Ashe was
+fortified by that philosophic calm which comes to us in dreams,
+and, moreover, he had his story ready.
+
+"Mr. Peters rang for me, sir."
+
+He had never expected to feel grateful to the little firebrand
+who employed him, but he had to admit that the millionaire, in
+their late conversation, had shown forethought. The thought
+struck him that but for Mr. Peters' advice he might by now be in
+an extremely awkward position; for his was not a swiftly
+inventive mind.
+
+"Rang for you? At half-past two in the morning!"
+
+"To read to him, sir."
+
+"To read to him at this hour?"
+
+"Mr. Peters suffers from insomnia, sir. He has a weak digestion
+and pain sometimes prevents him from sleeping. The lining of his
+stomach is not at all what it should be."
+
+"I don't believe a word of it."
+
+With that meekness which makes the good man wronged so impressive
+a spectacle, Ashe produced and exhibited his novel.
+
+"Here is the book I am about to read to him. I think, sir, if you
+will excuse me, I had better be going to his room. Good night,
+sir."
+
+He proceeded to mount the stairs. He was sorry for Mr. Peters, so
+shortly about to be roused from a refreshing slumber; but these
+were life's tragedies and must be borne bravely.
+
+The Efficient Baxter dogged him the whole way, sprinting silently
+in his wake and dodging into the shadows whenever the light of an
+occasional electric bulb made it inadvisable to keep to the open.
+Then abruptly he gave up the pursuit. For the first time his
+comparative impotence in this silent conflict on which he had
+embarked was made manifest to him, and he perceived that on mere
+suspicion, however strong, he could do nothing. To accuse Mr.
+Peters of theft or to accuse him of being accessory to a theft
+was out of the question.
+
+Yet his whole being revolted at the thought of allowing the
+sanctity of the museum to be violated. Officially its contents
+belonged to Lord Emsworth, but ever since his connection with the
+castle he had been put in charge of them, and he had come to look
+on them as his own property. If he was only a collector by proxy
+he had, nevertheless, the collector's devotion to his curios,
+beside which the lioness' attachment to her cubs is tepid; and he
+was prepared to do anything to retain in his possession a scarab
+toward which he already entertained the feelings of a life
+proprietor.
+
+No--not quite anything! He stopped short at the idea of causing
+unpleasantness between the father of the Honorable Freddie and
+the father of the Honorable Freddie's fiancee. His secretarial
+position at the castle was a valuable one and he was loath to
+jeopardize it.
+
+There was only one way in which this delicate affair could be
+brought to a satisfactory conclusion. It was obvious from what he
+had seen that night that Mr. Peters' connection with the attempt
+on the scarab was to be merely sympathetic, and that the actual
+theft was to be accomplished by Ashe. His only course, therefore,
+was to catch Ashe actually in the museum. Then Mr. Peters need
+not appear in the matter at all. Mr. Peters' position in those
+circumstances would be simply that of a man who had happened to
+employ, through no fault of his own, a valet who happened to be a
+thief.
+
+He had made a mistake, he perceived, in locking the door of the
+museum. In future he must leave it open, as a trap is open;
+and he must stay up nights and keep watch. With these
+reflections, the Efficient Baxter returned to his room.
+
+Meantime Ashe had entered Mr. Peters' bedroom and switched on the
+light. Mr. Peters, who had just succeeded in dropping off to
+sleep, sat up with a start.
+
+"I've come to read to you," said Ashe.
+
+Mr. Peters emitted a stifled howl, in which wrath and self-pity
+were nicely blended.
+
+"You fool, don't you know I have just managed to get to sleep?"
+
+"And now you're awake again," said Ashe soothingly. "Such is
+life! A little rest, a little folding of the hands in sleep, and
+then bing!--off we go again. I hope you will like this novel. I
+dipped into it and it seems good."
+
+"What do you mean by coming in here at this time of night? Are
+you crazy?"
+
+"It was your suggestion; and, by the way, I must thank you for
+it. I apologize for calling it thin. It worked like a charm. I
+don't think he believed it--in fact, I know he didn't; but it
+held him. I couldn't have thought up anything half so good in an
+emergency."
+
+Mr. Peters' wrath changed to excitement.
+
+"Did you get it? Have you been after my--my Cheops?"
+
+"I have been after your Cheops, but I didn't get it. Bad men were
+abroad. That fellow with the spectacles, who was in the museum
+when I met you there this evening, swooped down from nowhere, and
+I had to tell him that you had rung for me to read to you.
+Fortunately I had this novel on me. I think he followed me
+upstairs to see whether I really did come to your room."
+
+Mr. Peters groaned miserably.
+
+"Baxter," he said; "He's a man named Baxter--Lord Emsworth's
+private secretary; and he suspects us. He's the man we--I mean
+you--have got to look out for."
+
+"Well, never mind. Let's be happy while we can. Make yourself
+comfortable and I'll start reading. After all, what could be
+pleasanter than a little literature in the small hours? Shall I
+begin?"
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+Ashe Marson found Joan Valentine in the stable yard after
+breakfast the next morning, playing with a retriever puppy. "Will
+you spare me a moment of your valuable time?"
+
+"Certainly, Mr. Marson."
+
+"Shall we walk out into the open somewhere--where we can't be
+overheard?"
+
+"Perhaps it would be better."
+
+They moved off.
+
+"Request your canine friend to withdraw," said Ashe. "He prevents
+me from marshaling my thoughts."
+
+"I'm afraid he won't withdraw."
+
+"Never mind. I'll do my best in spite of him. Tell me, was I
+dreaming or did I really meet you in the hall this morning at
+about twenty minutes after two?"
+
+"You did."
+
+"And did you really tell me that you had come to the castle to
+steal--"
+
+"Recover."
+
+"--Recover Mr. Peters' scarab?"
+
+"I did."
+
+"Then it's true?"
+
+"It is."
+
+Ashe scraped the ground with a meditative toe.
+
+"This," he said, "seems to me to complicate matters somewhat."
+
+"It complicates them abominably!"
+
+"I suppose you were surprised when you found that I was on the
+same game as yourself."
+
+"Not in the least."
+
+"You weren't!"
+
+"I knew it directly I saw the advertisement in the Morning Post.
+And I hunted up the Morning Post directly you had told me that
+you had become Mr. Peters' valet."
+
+"You have known all along!"
+
+"I have."
+
+Ashe regarded her admiringly.
+
+"You're wonderful!"
+
+"Because I saw through you?"
+
+"Partly that; but chiefly because you had the pluck to undertake
+a thing like this."
+
+"You undertook it."
+
+"But I'm a man."
+
+"And I'm a woman. And my theory, Mr. Marson, is that a woman can
+do nearly everything better than a man. What a splendid test case
+this would make to settle the Votes-for-Women question once and
+for all! Here we are--you and I--a man and a woman, each trying
+for the same thing and each starting with equal chances. Suppose
+I beat you? How about the inferiority of women then?"
+
+"I never said women were inferior."
+
+"You did with your eyes."
+
+"Besides, you're an exceptional woman."
+
+"You can't get out of it with a compliment. I'm an ordinary woman
+and I'm going to beat a real man."
+
+Ashe frowned.
+
+"I don't like to think of ourselves as working against each
+other."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I like you."
+
+"I like you, Mr. Marson; but we must not let sentiment interfere
+with business. You want Mr. Peters' five thousand dollars. So do
+I."
+
+"I hate the thought of being the instrument to prevent you from
+getting the money."
+
+"You won't be. I shall be the instrument to prevent you from
+getting it. I don't like that thought, either; but one has got to
+face it."
+
+"It makes me feel mean."
+
+"That's simply your old-fashioned masculine attitude toward the
+female, Mr. Marson. You look on woman as a weak creature, to be
+shielded and petted. We aren't anything of the sort. We're
+terrors! We're as hard as nails. We're awful creatures. You
+mustn't let my sex interfere with your trying to get this reward.
+Think of me as though I were another man. We're up against each
+other in a fair fight, and I don't want any special privileges.
+If you don't do your best from now onward I shall never forgive
+you. Do you understand?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"And we shall need to do our best. That little man with the
+glasses is on his guard. I was listening to you last night from
+behind the door. By the way, you shouldn't have told me to run
+away and then have stayed yourself to be caught. That is an
+example of the sort of thing I mean. It was chivalry--not
+business."
+
+"I had a story ready to account for my being there. You had not."
+
+"And what a capital story it was! I shall borrow it for my own
+use. If I am caught I shall say I had to read Aline to sleep
+because she suffers from insomnia. And I shouldn't wonder if she
+did--poor girl! She doesn't get enough to eat. She is being
+starved--poor child! I heard one of the footmen say that she
+refused everything at dinner last night. And, though she vows it
+isn't, my belief is that it's all because she is afraid to make a
+stand against her old father. It's a shame!"
+
+"She is a weak creature, to be shielded and petted," said Ashe
+solemnly.
+
+Joan laughed.
+
+"Well, yes; you caught me there. I admit that poor Aline is not a
+shining example of the formidable modern woman; but--" She
+stopped. "Oh, bother! I've just thought of what I ought to have
+said--the good repartee that would have crushed you. I suppose
+it's too late now?"
+
+"Not at all. I'm like that myself--only it is generally the next
+day when I hit the right answer. Shall we go back? . . . She is a
+weak creature, to be shielded and petted."
+
+"Thank you so much," said Joan gratefully. "And why is she a weak
+creature? Because she has allowed herself to be shielded and
+petted; because she has permitted man to give her special
+privileges, and generally--No; it isn't so good as I thought it
+was going to be."
+
+"It should be crisper," said Ashe critically. "It lacks the
+punch."
+
+"But it brings me back to my point, which is that I am not going
+to imitate her and forfeit my independence of action in return
+for chivalry. Try to look at it from my point of view, Mr.
+Marson. I know you need the money just as much as I do. Well,
+don't you think I should feel a little mean if I thought you were
+not trying your hardest to get it, simply because you didn't
+think it would be fair to try your hardest against a woman? That
+would cripple me. I should not feel as though I had the right to
+do anything. It's too important a matter for you to treat me like
+a child and let me win to avoid disappointing me. I want the
+money; but I don't want it handed to me."
+
+"Believe me," said Ashe earnestly, "it will not be handed to you.
+I have studied the Baxter question more deeply than you have, and
+I can assure you that Baxter is a menace. What has put him so
+firmly on the right scent I don't know; but he seems to have
+divined the exact state of affairs in its entirety--so far as I
+am concerned, that is to say. Of course he has no idea you are
+mixed up in the business; but I am afraid his suspicion of me
+will hit you as well. What I mean is that, for some time to come,
+I fancy that man proposes to camp out on the rug in front of the
+museum door. It would be madness for either of us to attempt to
+go there at present."
+
+"It is being made very hard for us, isn't it? And I thought it
+was going to be so simple."
+
+"I think we should give him at least a week to simmer down."
+
+"Fully that."
+
+"Let us look on the bright side. We are in no hurry. Blandings
+Castle is quite as comfortable as Number Seven Arundell Street,
+and the commissariat department is a revelation to me. I had no
+idea English servants did themselves so well. And, as for the
+social side, I love it; I revel in it. For the first time in my
+life I feel as though I am somebody. Did you observe my manner
+toward the kitchen maid who waited on us at dinner last night? A
+touch of the old noblesse about it, I fancy. Dignified but not
+unkind, I think. And I can keep it up. So far as I am concerned,
+let this life continue indefinitely."
+
+"But what about Mr. Peters? Don't you think there is danger he
+may change his mind about that five thousand dollars if we keep
+him waiting too long?"
+
+"Not a chance of it. Being almost within touch of the scarab has
+had the worst effect on him. It has intensified the craving. By
+the way, have you seen the scarab?"
+
+"Yes; I got Mrs. Twemlow to take me to the museum while you were
+talking to the butler. It was dreadful to feel that it was lying
+there in the open waiting for somebody to take it, and not be
+able to do anything."
+
+"I felt exactly the same. It isn't much to look at, is it? If it
+hadn't been for the label I wouldn't have believed it was the
+thing for which Peters was offering five thousand dollars'
+reward. But that's his affair. A thing is worth what somebody
+will give for it. Ours not to reason why; ours but to elude
+Baxter and gather it in."
+
+"Ours, indeed! You speak as though we were partners instead of
+rivals."
+
+Ashe uttered an exclamation. "You've hit it! Why not? Why any
+cutthroat competition? Why shouldn't we form a company? It would
+solve everything."
+
+Joan looked thoughtful.
+
+"You mean divide the reward?"
+
+"Exactly--into two equal parts."
+
+"And the labor?"
+
+"The labor?"
+
+"How shall we divide that?"
+
+Ashe hesitated.
+
+"My idea," he said, "was that I should do what I might call the
+rough work; and--"
+
+"You mean you should do the actual taking of the scarab?"
+
+"Exactly. I would look after that end of it."
+
+"And what would my duties be?"
+
+"Well, you--you would, as it were--how shall I put it? You would,
+so to speak, lend moral support."
+
+"By lying snugly in bed, fast asleep?"
+
+Ashe avoided her eye.
+
+"Well, yes--er--something on those lines."
+
+"While you ran all the risks?"
+
+"No, no. The risks are practically nonexistent."
+
+"I thought you said just now that it would be madness for either
+of us to attempt to go to the museum at present." Joan laughed.
+"It won't do, Mr. Marson. You remind me of an old cat I once had.
+Whenever he killed a mouse he would bring it into the
+drawing-room and lay it affectionately at my feet. I would reject
+the corpse with horror and turn him out, but back he would come
+with his loathsome gift. I simply couldn't make him understand
+that he was not doing me a kindness. He thought highly of his
+mouse and it was beyond him to realize that I did not want it.
+
+"You are just the same with your chivalry. It's very kind of you
+to keep offering me your dead mouse; but honestly I have no use
+for it. I won't take favors just because I happen to be a female.
+If we are going to form this partnership I insist on doing my
+fair share of the work and running my fair share of the
+risks--the practically nonexistent risks."
+
+"You're very--resolute."
+
+"Say pig-headed; I shan't mind. Certainly I am! A girl has got to
+be, even nowadays, if she wants to play fair. Listen, Mr.
+Marson; I will not have the dead mouse. I do not like dead mice.
+If you attempt to work off your dead mouse on me this partnership
+ceases before it has begun. If we are to work together we are
+going to make alternate attempts to get the scarab. No other
+arrangement will satisfy me."
+
+"Then I claim the right to make the first one."
+
+"You don't do anything of the sort. We toss up for first chance,
+like little ladies and gentlemen. Have you a coin? I will spin,
+and you call."
+
+Ashe made a last stand.
+
+"This is perfectly--"
+
+"Mr. Marson!"
+
+Ashe gave in. He produced a coin and handed it to her gloomily.
+
+"Under protest," he said.
+
+"Head or tail?" said Joan, unmoved.
+
+Ashe watched the coin gyrating in the sunshine.
+
+"Tail!" he cried.
+
+The coin stopped rolling.
+
+"Tail it is," said Joan. "What a nuisance! Well, never mind--
+I'll get my chance if you fail."
+
+"I shan't fail," said Ashe fervently. "If I have to pull the
+museum down I won't fail. Thank heaven, there's no chance now of
+your doing anything foolish!"
+
+"Don't be too sure. Well, good luck, Mr. Marson!"
+
+"Thank you, partner."
+
+They shook hands.
+
+As they parted at the door, Joan made one further remark:
+"There's just one thing, Mr. Marson."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"If I could have accepted the mouse from anyone I should
+certainly have accepted it from you."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+It is worthy of record, in the light of after events, that at the
+beginning of their visit it was the general opinion of the guests
+gathered together at Blandings Castle that the place was dull.
+The house party had that air of torpor which one sees in the
+saloon passengers of an Atlantic liner--that appearance of
+resignation to an enforced idleness and a monotony to be broken
+only by meals. Lord Emsworth's guests gave the impression,
+collectively, of being just about to yawn and look at their
+watches.
+
+This was partly the fault of the time of year, for most house
+parties are dull if they happen to fall between the hunting and
+the shooting seasons, but must be attributed chiefly to Lord
+Emsworth's extremely sketchy notions of the duties of a host.
+
+A host has no right to interne a regiment of his relations in his
+house unless he also invites lively and agreeable outsiders to
+meet them. If he does commit this solecism the least he can do is
+to work himself to the bone in the effort to invent amusements
+and diversions for his victims. Lord Emsworth had failed badly in
+both these matters. With the exception of Mr. Peters, his
+daughter Aline and George Emerson, there was nobody in the house
+who did not belong to the clan; and, as for his exerting himself
+to entertain, the company was lucky if it caught a glimpse of its
+host at meals.
+
+Lord Emsworth belonged to the people-who-like-to-be-left-alone-
+to-amuse-themselves-when-they-come-to-a-place school of hosts. He
+pottered about the garden in an old coat--now uprooting a weed,
+now wrangling with the autocrat from Scotland, who was
+theoretically in his service as head gardener---dreamily
+satisfied, when he thought of them at all, that his guests were
+as perfectly happy as he was.
+
+Apart from his son Freddie, whom he had long since dismissed as a
+youth of abnormal tastes, from whom nothing reasonable was to be
+expected, he could not imagine anyone not being content merely to
+be at Blandings when the buds were bursting on the trees.
+
+A resolute hostess might have saved the situation; but Lady Ann
+Warblington's abilities in that direction stopped short at
+leaving everything to Mrs. Twemlow and writing letters in her
+bedroom. When Lady Ann Warblington was not writing letters in her
+bedroom--which was seldom, for she had an apparently
+inexhaustible correspondence--she was nursing sick headaches in
+it. She was one of those hostesses whom a guest never sees except
+when he goes into the library and espies the tail of her skirt
+vanishing through the other door.
+
+As for the ordinary recreations of the country house, the guests
+could frequent the billiard room, where they were sure to find
+Lord Stockheath playing a hundred up with his cousin, Algernon
+Wooster--a spectacle of the liveliest interest--or they could, if
+fond of golf, console themselves for the absence of links in the
+neighborhood with the exhilarating pastime of clock golf; or they
+could stroll about the terraces with such of their relations as
+they happened to be on speaking terms with at the moment, and
+abuse their host and the rest of their relations.
+
+This was the favorite amusement; and after breakfast, on a
+morning ten days after Joan and Ashe had formed their compact,
+the terraces were full of perambulating couples. Here, Colonel
+Horace Mant, walking with the Bishop of Godalming, was soothing
+that dignitary by clothing in soldierly words thoughts that the
+latter had not been able to crush down, but which his holy office
+scarcely permitted him to utter.
+
+There, Lady Mildred Mant, linked to Mrs. Jack Hale, of the
+collateral branch of the family, was saying things about her
+father in his capacity of host and entertainer, that were making
+her companion feel like another woman. Farther on, stopping
+occasionally to gesticulate, could be seen other Emsworth
+relations and connections. It was a typical scene of quiet,
+peaceful English family life.
+
+Leaning on the broad stone balustrade of the upper terrace, Aline
+Peters and George Emerson surveyed the malcontents. Aline gave a
+little sigh, almost inaudible; but George's hearing was good.
+
+"I was wondering when you are going to admit it," he said,
+shifting his position so that he faced her.
+
+"Admit what?"
+
+"That you can't stand the prospect; that the idea of being stuck
+for life with this crowd, like a fly on fly paper, is too much
+for you; that you are ready to break off your engagement to
+Freddie and come away and marry me and live happily ever after."
+
+"George!"
+
+"Well, wasn't that what it meant? Be honest!"
+
+"What what meant?"
+
+"That sigh."
+
+"I didn't sigh. I was just breathing."
+
+"Then you can breathe in this atmosphere! You surprise me!" He
+raked the terraces with hostile eyes. "Look at them! Look at
+them--crawling round like doped beetles. My dear girl, it's no
+use your pretending that this sort of thing wouldn't kill you.
+You're pining away already. You're thinner and paler since you
+came here. Gee! How we shall look back at this and thank our
+stars that we're out of it when we're back in old New York, with
+the elevated rattling and the street cars squealing over the
+points, and something doing every step you take. I shall call you
+on the 'phone from the office and have you meet me down town
+somewhere, and we'll have a bite to eat and go to some show, and
+a bit of supper afterward and a dance or two; and then go home to
+our cozy---"
+
+"George, you mustn't--really!"
+
+"Why mustn't I?"
+
+"It's wrong. You can't talk like that when we are both enjoying
+the hospitality--"
+
+A wild laugh, almost a howl, disturbed the talk of the most
+adjacent of the perambulating relations. Colonel Horace Mant,
+checked in mid-sentence, looked up resentfully at the cause of
+the interruption.
+
+"I wish somebody would tell me whether it's that American fellow,
+Emerson, or young Freddie who's supposed to be engaged to Miss
+Peters. Hanged if you ever see her and Freddie together, but she
+and Emerson are never to be found apart. If my respected
+father-in-law had any sense I should have thought he would have
+had sense enough to stop that."
+
+"You forget, my dear Horace," said the bishop charitably; "Miss
+Peters and Mr. Emerson have known each other since they were
+children."
+
+"They were never nearly such children as Emsworth is now,"
+snorted the colonel. "If that girl isn't in love with Emerson
+I'll be--I'll eat my hat."
+
+"No, no," said the bishop. "No, no! Surely not, Horace. What were
+you saying when you broke off?"
+
+"I was saying that if a man wanted his relations never to speak
+to each other again for the rest of their lives the best thing he
+could do would be to herd them all together in a dashed barrack
+of a house a hundred miles from anywhere, and then go off and
+spend all his time prodding dashed flower beds with a spud--dash
+it!"
+
+"Just so; just so. So you were. Go on, Horace; I find a curious
+comfort in your words."
+
+On the terrace above them Aline was looking at George with
+startled eyes.
+
+"George!"
+
+"I'm sorry; but you shouldn't spring these jokes on me so
+suddenly. You said enjoying! Yes--reveling in it, aren't we!"
+
+"It's a lovely old place," said Aline defensively.
+
+"And when you've said that you've said everything. You can't live
+on scenery and architecture for the rest of your life. There's
+the human element to be thought of. And you're beginning--"
+
+"There goes father," interrupted Aline. "How fast he is walking!
+George, have you noticed a sort of difference in father these
+last few days?"
+
+"I haven't. My specialty is keeping an eye on the rest of the
+Peters family."
+
+"He seems better somehow. He seems to have almost stopped
+smoking--and I'm very glad, for those cigars were awfully bad for
+him. The doctor expressly told him he must stop them, but he
+wouldn't pay any attention to him. And he seems to take so much
+more exercise. My bedroom is next to his, you know, and every
+morning I can hear things going on through the wall--father
+dancing about and puffing a good deal. And one morning I met his
+valet going in with a pair of Indian clubs. I believe father is
+really taking himself in hand at last."
+
+George Emerson exploded.
+
+"And about time, too! How much longer are you to go on starving
+yourself to death just to give him the resolution to stick to his
+dieting? It maddens me to see you at dinner. And it's killing
+you. You're getting pale and thin. You can't go on like this."
+
+A wistful look came over Aline's face.
+
+"I do get a little hungry sometimes--late at night generally."
+
+"You want somebody to take care of you and look after you. I'm
+the man. You may think you can fool me; but I can tell. You're
+weakening on this Freddie proposition. You're beginning to see
+that it won't do. One of these days you're going to come to me
+and say: 'George, you were right. I take the count. Me for the
+quiet sneak to the station, without anybody knowing, and the
+break for London, and the wedding at the registrar's.' Oh, I
+know! I couldn't have loved you all this time and not know.
+You're weakening."
+
+The trouble with these supermen is that they lack reticence. They
+do not know how to omit. They expand their chests and whoop. And
+a girl, even the mildest and sweetest of girls--even a girl like
+Aline Peters--cannot help resenting the note of triumph. But
+supermen despise tact. As far as one can gather, that is the
+chief difference between them and the ordinary man.
+
+A little frown appeared on Aline's forehead and she set her mouth
+mutinously.
+
+"I'm not weakening at all," she said, and her voice was--for
+her--quite acid. "You--you take too much for granted."
+
+George was contemplating the landscape with a conqueror's eye.
+
+"You are beginning to see that it is impossible--this Freddie
+foolishness."
+
+"It is not foolishness," said Aline pettishly, tears of annoyance
+in her eyes. "And I wish you wouldn't call him Freddie."
+
+"He asked me to. He asked me to!"
+
+Aline stamped her foot.
+
+"Well, never mind. Please don't do it."
+
+"Very well, little girl," said George softly. "I wouldn't do
+anything to hurt you."
+
+The fact that it never even occurred to George Emerson he was
+being offensively patronizing shows the stern stuff of which
+these supermen are made.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+The Efficient Baxter bicycled broodingly to Market Blandings for
+tobacco. He brooded for several reasons. He had just seen Aline
+Peters and George Emerson in confidential talk on the upper
+terrace, and that was one thing which exercised his mind, for he
+suspected George Emerson. He suspected him nebulously as a snake
+in the grass; as an influence working against the orderly
+progress of events concerning the marriage that had been arranged
+and would shortly take place between Miss Peters and the
+Honorable Frederick Threepwood.
+
+It would be too much to say that he had any idea that George was
+putting in such hard and consistent work in his serpentine role;
+indeed if he could have overheard the conversation just recorded
+it is probable that Rupert Baxter would have had heart failure;
+but he had observed the intimacy between the two as he observed
+most things in his immediate neighborhood, and he disapproved of
+it. It was all very well to say that George Emerson had known
+Aline Peters since she was a child. If that was so, then in the
+opinion of the Efficient Baxter he had known her quite long
+enough and ought to start making the acquaintance of somebody
+else.
+
+He blamed the Honorable Freddie. If the Honorable Freddie had
+been a more ardent lover he would have spent his time with Aline,
+and George Emerson would have taken his proper place as one of
+the crowd at the back of the stage. But Freddie's view of the
+matter seemed to be that he had done all that could be expected
+of a chappie in getting engaged to the girl, and that now he
+might consider himself at liberty to drop her for a while.
+
+So Baxter, as he bicycled to Market Blandings for tobacco,
+brooded on Freddie, Aline Peters and George Emerson. He also
+brooded on Mr. Peters and Ashe Marson. Finally he brooded in a
+general way, because he had had very little sleep the past week.
+
+The spectacle of a young man doing his duty and enduring
+considerable discomforts while doing it is painful; but there is
+such uplift in it, it affords so excellent a moral picture, that
+I cannot omit a short description of the manner in which Rupert
+Baxter had spent the nights which had elapsed since his meeting
+with Ashe in the small hours in the hall.
+
+In the gallery which ran above the hall there was a large chair,
+situated a few paces from the great staircase. On this, in an
+overcoat--for the nights were chilly--and rubber-soled shoes, the
+Efficient Baxter had sat, without missing a single night, from
+one in the morning until daybreak, waiting, waiting, waiting. It
+had been an ordeal to try the stoutest determination. Nature had
+never intended Baxter for a night bird. He loved his bed. He knew
+that doctors held that insufficient sleep made a man pale and
+sallow, and he had always aimed at the peach-bloom complexion
+which comes from a sensible eight hours between the sheets.
+
+One of the King Georges of England--I forget which--once said
+that a certain number of hours' sleep each night--I cannot recall
+at the moment how many--made a man something, which for the time
+being has slipped my memory. Baxter agreed with him. It went
+against all his instincts to sit up in this fashion; but it was
+his duty and he did it.
+
+It troubled him that, as night after night went by and Ashe, the
+suspect, did not walk into the trap so carefully laid for him, he
+found an increasing difficulty in keeping awake. The first two or
+three of his series of vigils he had passed in an unimpeachable
+wakefulness, his chin resting on the rail of the gallery and his
+ears alert for the slightest sound; but he had not been able to
+maintain this standard of excellence.
+
+On several occasions he had caught himself in the act of dropping
+off, and the last night he had actually wakened with a start to
+find it quite light. As his last recollection before that was of
+an inky darkness impenetrable to the eye, dismay gripped him with
+a sudden clutch and he ran swiftly down to the museum. His
+relief on finding that the scarab was still there had been
+tempered by thoughts of what might have been.
+
+Baxter, then, as he bicycled to Market Blandings for tobacco, had
+good reason to brood. Having bought his tobacco and observed the
+life and thought of the town for half an hour--it was market day
+and the normal stagnation of the place was temporarily relieved
+and brightened by pigs that eluded their keepers, and a bull calf
+which caught a stout farmer at the psychological moment when he
+was tying his shoe lace and lifted him six feet--he made his way
+to the Emsworth Arms, the most respectable of the eleven inns the
+citizens of Market Blandings contrived in some miraculous way to
+support.
+
+In English country towns, if the public houses do not actually
+outnumber the inhabitants, they all do an excellent trade. It is
+only when they are two to one that hard times hit them and set
+the innkeepers to blaming the government.
+
+It was not the busy bar, full to overflowing with honest British
+yeomen--many of them in a similar condition--that Baxter sought.
+His goal was the genteel dining-room on the first floor, where a
+bald and shuffling waiter, own cousin to a tortoise, served
+luncheon to those desiring it. Lack of sleep had reduced Baxter
+to a condition where the presence and chatter of the house party
+were insupportable. It was his purpose to lunch at the Emsworth
+Arms and take a nap in an armchair afterward.
+
+He had relied on having the room to himself, for Market Blandings
+did not lunch to a great extent; but to his annoyance and
+disappointment the room was already occupied by a man in brown
+tweeds.
+
+Occupied is the correct word, for at first sight this man seemed
+to fill the room. Never since almost forgotten days when he used
+to frequent circuses and side shows, had Baxter seen a fellow
+human being so extraordinarily obese. He was a man about fifty
+years old, gray-haired, of a mauve complexion, and his general
+appearance suggested joviality.
+
+To Baxter's chagrin, this person engaged him in conversation
+directly he took his seat at the table. There was only one table
+in the room, as is customary in English inns, and it had the
+disadvantage that it collected those seated at it into one party.
+It was impossible for Baxter to withdraw into himself and ignore
+this person's advances.
+
+It is doubtful whether he could have done it, however, had they
+been separated by yards of floor, for the fat man was not only
+naturally talkative but, as appeared from his opening remarks,
+speech had been dammed up within him for some time by lack of a
+suitable victim.
+
+"Morning!" he began; "nice day. Good for the farmers. I'll move
+up to your end of the table if I may, sir. Waiter, bring my beef
+to this gentleman's end of the table."
+
+He creaked into a chair at Baxter's side and resumed:
+
+"Infernally quiet place, this, sir. I haven't found a soul to
+speak to since I arrived yesterday afternoon except deaf-and-dumb
+rustics. Are you making a long stay here?"
+
+"I live outside the town."
+
+"I pity you. Wouldn't care to do it myself. Had to come here on
+business and shan't be sorry when it's finished. I give you my
+word I couldn't sleep a wink last night because of the quiet. I
+was just dropping off when a beast of a bird outside the window
+gave a chirrup, and it brought me up with a jerk as though
+somebody had fired a gun. There's a damned cat somewhere near my
+room that mews. I lie in bed waiting for the next mew, all worked
+up.
+
+"Heaven save me from the country! It may be all right for you, if
+you've got a comfortable home and a pal or two to chat with after
+dinner; but you've no conception what it's like in this infernal
+town--I suppose it calls itself a town. What a hole! There's a
+church down the street. I'm told it's Norman or something.
+Anyway, it's old. I'm not much of a man for churches as a rule,
+but I went and took a look at it.
+
+"Then somebody told me there was a fine view from the end of High
+Street; so I went and took a look at that. And now, so far as I
+can make out, I've done the sights and exhausted every
+possibility of entertainment the town has to provide--unless
+there's another church. I'm so reduced that I'll go and see the
+Methodist Chapel, if there is one."
+
+Fresh air, want of sleep and the closeness of the dining-room
+combined to make Baxter drowsy. He ate his lunch in a torpor,
+hardly replying to his companion's remarks, who, for his part,
+did not seem to wish or to expect replies. It was enough for him
+to be talking.
+
+"What do people do with themselves in a place like this? When
+they want amusement, I mean. I suppose it's different if you've
+been brought up to it. Like being born color-blind or something.
+You don't notice. It's the visitor who suffers. They've no
+enterprise in this sort of place. There's a bit of land just
+outside here that would make a sweet steeplechase course; natural
+barriers; everything. It hasn't occurred to 'em to do anything
+with it. It makes you despair of your species--that sort of
+thing. Now if I--"
+
+Baxter dozed. With his fork still impaling a piece of cold beef,
+he dropped into that half-awake, half-asleep state which is
+Nature's daytime substitute for the true slumber of the night.
+The fat man, either not noticing or not caring, talked on. His
+voice was a steady drone, lulling Baxter to rest.
+
+Suddenly there was a break. Baxter sat up, blinking. He had a
+curious impression that his companion had said "Hello, Freddie!"
+and that the door had just opened and closed.
+
+"Eh?" he said.
+
+"Yes?" said the fat man.
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"I was speaking of--"
+
+"I thought you said, 'Hello, Freddie!'"
+
+His companion eyed him indulgently.
+
+"I thought you were dropping off when I looked at you. You've
+been dreaming. What should I say, 'Hello, Freddie!' for?"
+
+The conundrum was unanswerable. Baxter did not attempt to answer
+it. But there remained at the back of his mind a quaint idea that
+he had caught sight, as he woke, of the Honorable Frederick
+Threepwood, his face warningly contorted, vanishing through the
+doorway. Yet what could the Honorable Freddie be doing at the
+Emsworth Arms?
+
+A solution of the difficulty occurred to him: he had dreamed he
+had seen Freddie and that had suggested the words which, reason
+pointed out, his companion could hardly have spoken. Even if the
+Honorable Freddie should enter the room, this fat man, who was
+apparently a drummer of some kind, would certainly not know who
+he was, nor would he address him so familiarly.
+
+Yes, that must be the explanation. After all, the quaintest
+things happened in dreams. Last night, when he had fallen asleep
+in his chair, he had dreamed that he was sitting in a glass case
+in the museum, making faces at Lord Emsworth, Mr. Peters, and
+Beach, the butler, who were trying to steal him, under the
+impression that he was a scarab of the reign of Cheops of the
+Fourth Dynasty--a thing he would never have done when awake. Yes;
+he must certainly have been dreaming.
+
+In the bedroom into which he had dashed to hide himself, on
+discovering that the dining-room was in possession of the
+Efficient Baxter, the Honorable Freddie sat on a rickety chair,
+scowling. He elaborated a favorite dictum of his:
+
+"You can't take a step anywhere without stumbling over that damn
+feller, Baxter!"
+
+He wondered whether Baxter had seen him. He wondered whether
+Baxter had recognized him. He wondered whether Baxter had heard
+R. Jones say, "Hello, Freddie!"
+
+He wondered, if such should be the case, whether R. Jones'
+presence of mind and native resource had been equal to explaining
+away the remark.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+"'Put the butter or drippings in a kettle on the range, and when
+hot add the onions and fry them; add the veal and cook until
+brown. Add the water, cover closely, and cook very slowly until
+the meat is tender; then add the seasoning and place the potatoes
+on top of the meat. Cover and cook until the potatoes are tender,
+but not falling to pieces.'"
+
+"Sure," said Mr. Peters--"not falling to pieces. That's right.
+Go on."
+
+"'Then add the cream and cook five minutes longer'" read Ashe.
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"That's all of that one."
+
+Mr. Peters settled himself more comfortably in bed.
+
+"Read me the piece where it tells about curried lobster."
+
+Ashe cleared his throat.
+
+"'Curried Lobster,'" he read. "'Materials: Two one-pound
+lobsters, two teaspoonfuls lemon juice, half a spoonful curry
+powder, two tablespoonfuls butter, a tablespoonful flour, one
+cupful scalded milk, one cupful cracker crumbs, half teaspoonful
+salt, quarter teaspoonful pepper.'"
+
+"Go on."
+
+"'Way of Preparing: Cream the butter and flour and add the
+scalded milk; then add the lemon juice, curry powder, salt and
+pepper. Remove the lobster meat from the shells and cut into
+half-inch cubes.'"
+
+"Half-inch cubes," sighed Mr. Peters wistfully. "Yes?"
+
+"'Add the latter to the sauce.'"
+
+"You didn't say anything about the latter. Oh, I see; it means
+the half-inch cubes. Yes?"
+
+"'Refill the lobster shells, cover with buttered crumbs, and bake
+until the crumbs are brown. This will serve six persons.'"
+
+"And make them feel an hour afterward as though they had
+swallowed a live wild cat," said Mr. Peters ruefully.
+
+"Not necessarily," said Ashe. "I could eat two portions of that
+at this very minute and go off to bed and sleep like a little
+child."
+
+Mr. Peters raised himself on his elbow and stared at him. They
+were in the millionaire's bedroom, the time being one in the
+morning, and Mr. Peters had expressed a wish that Ashe should
+read him to sleep. He had voted against Ashe's novel and produced
+from the recesses of his suitcase a much-thumbed cookbook. He
+explained that since his digestive misfortunes had come on him he
+had derived a certain solace from its perusal.
+
+It may be that to some men sorrow's crown of sorrow is
+remembering happier things; but Mr. Peters had not found that to
+be the case. In his hour of affliction it soothed him to read of
+Hungarian Goulash and escaloped brains, and to remember that he,
+too, the nut-and-grass eater of today, had once dwelt in Arcadia.
+
+The passage of the days, which had so sapped the stamina of the
+efficient Baxter, had had the opposite effect on Mr. Peters. His
+was one of those natures that cannot deal in half measures.
+Whatever he did, he did with the same driving energy. After the
+first passionate burst of resistance he had settled down into a
+model pupil in Ashe's one-man school of physical culture. It had
+been the same, now that he came to look back on it, at Muldoon's.
+
+Now that he remembered, he had come away from White Plains
+hoping, indeed, never to see the place again, but undeniably a
+different man physically. It was not the habit of Professor
+Muldoon to let his patients loaf; but Mr. Peters, after the
+initial plunge, had needed no driving. He had worked hard at his
+cure then, because it was the job in hand. He worked hard now,
+under the guidance of Ashe, because, once he had begun, the thing
+interested and gripped him.
+
+Ashe, who had expected continued reluctance, had been astonished
+and delighted at the way in which the millionaire had behaved.
+Nature had really intended Ashe for a trainer; he identified
+himself so thoroughly with his man and rejoiced at the least
+signs of improvement.
+
+In Mr. Peters' case there had been distinct improvement already.
+Miracles do not happen nowadays, and it was too much to expect
+one who had maltreated his body so consistently for so many years
+to become whole in a day; but to an optimist like Ashe signs were
+not wanting that in due season Mr. Peters would rise on
+stepping-stones of his dead self to higher things, and though
+never soaring into the class that devours lobster a la Newburg
+and smiles after it, might yet prove himself a devil of a fellow
+among the mutton chops.
+
+"You're a wonder!" said Mr. Peters. "You're fresh, and you have
+no respect for your elders and betters; but you deliver the
+goods. That's the point. Why, I'm beginning to feel great! Say,
+do you know I felt a new muscle in the small of my back this
+morning? They are coming out on me like a rash."
+
+"That's the Larsen Exercises. They develop the whole body."
+
+"Well, you're a pretty good advertisement for them if they need
+one. What were you before you came to me--a prize-fighter?"
+
+"That's the question everybody I have met since I arrived here
+has asked me. I believe it made the butler think I was some sort
+of crook when I couldn't answer it. I used to write stories--
+detective stories."
+
+"What you ought to be doing is running a place over here in
+England like Muldoon has back home. But you will be able to write
+one more story out of this business here, if you want to. When
+are you going to have another try for my scarab?"
+
+"To-night."
+
+"To-night? How about Baxter?"
+
+"I shall have to risk Baxter."
+
+Mr. Peters hesitated. He had fallen out of the habit of being
+magnanimous during the past few years, for dyspepsia brooks no
+divided allegiance and magnanimity has to take a back seat when
+it has its grip on you.
+
+"See here," he said awkwardly; "I've been thinking this over
+lately--and what's the use? It's a queer thing; and if anybody
+had told me a week ago that I should be saying it I wouldn't have
+believed him; but I am beginning to like you. I don't want to get
+you into trouble. Let the old scarab go. What's a scarab anyway?
+Forget about it and stick on here as my private Muldoon. If it's
+the five thousand that's worrying you, forget that too. I'll give
+it to you as your fee."
+
+Ashe was astounded. That it could really be his peppery employer
+who spoke was almost unbelievable. Ashe's was a friendly nature
+and he could never be long associated with anyone without trying
+to establish pleasant relations; but he had resigned himself in
+the present case to perpetual warfare.
+
+He was touched; and if he had ever contemplated abandoning his
+venture, this, he felt, would have spurred him on to see it
+through. This sudden revelation of the human in Mr. Peters was
+like a trumpet call.
+
+"I wouldn't think of it," he said. "It's great of you to suggest
+such a thing; but I know just how you feel about the thing, and
+I'm going to get it for you if I have to wring Baxter's neck.
+Probably Baxter will have given up waiting as a bad job by now if
+he has been watching all this while. We've given him ten nights
+to cool off. I expect he is in bed, dreaming pleasant dreams.
+It's nearly two o'clock. I'll wait another ten minutes and then
+go down." He picked up the cookbook. "Lie back and make yourself
+comfortable, and I'll read you to sleep first."
+
+"You're a good boy," said Mr. Peters drowsily.
+
+"Are you ready? 'Pork Tenderloin Larded. Half pound fat pork--'"
+A faint smile curved Mr. Peters' lips. His eyes were closed and
+he breathed softly. Ashe went on in a low voice: "'four large
+pork tenderloins, one cupful cracker crumbs, one cupful boiling
+water, two tablespoonfuls butter, one teaspoonful salt, half
+teaspoonful pepper, one teaspoonful poultry seasoning.'"
+
+A little sigh came from the bed.
+
+"'Way of Preparing: Wipe the tenderloins with a damp cloth. With
+a sharp knife make a deep pocket lengthwise in each tenderloin.
+Cut your pork into long thin strips and, with a needle, lard each
+tenderloin. Melt the butter in the water, add the seasoning and
+the cracker crumbs, combining all thoroughly. Now fill each
+pocket in the tenderloin with this stuffing. Place the
+tenderloins--'"
+
+A snore sounded from the pillows, punctuating the recital like a
+mark of exclamation. Ashe laid down the book and peered into the
+darkness beyond the rays of the bed lamp. His employer slept.
+
+Ashe switched off the light and crept to the door. Out in the
+passage he stopped and listened. All was still. He stole
+downstairs.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+George Emerson sat in his bedroom in the bachelors' wing of the
+castle smoking a cigarette. A light of resolution was in his
+eyes. He glanced at the table beside his bed and at what was on
+that table, and the light of resolution flamed into a glare of
+fanatic determination. So might a medieval knight have looked on
+the eve of setting forth to rescue a maiden from a dragon.
+
+His cigarette burned down. He looked at his watch, put it back,
+and lit another cigarette. His aspect was the aspect of one
+waiting for the appointed hour. Smoking his second cigarette, he
+resumed his meditations. They had to do with Aline Peters.
+
+George Emerson was troubled about Aline Peters. Watching over
+her, as he did, with a lover's eye, he had perceived that about
+her which distressed him. On the terrace that morning she had
+been abrupt to him--what in a girl of less angelic disposition
+one might have called snappy. Yes, to be just, she had snapped at
+him. That meant something. It meant that Aline was not well. It
+meant what her pallor and tired eyes meant--that the life she was
+leading was doing her no good.
+
+Eleven nights had George dined at Blandings Castle, and on each
+of the eleven nights he had been distressed to see the manner in
+which Aline, declining the baked meats, had restricted herself to
+the miserable vegetable messes which were all that doctor's
+orders permitted to her suffering father. George's pity had its
+limits. His heart did not bleed for Mr. Peters. Mr. Peters' diet
+was his own affair. But that Aline should starve herself in this
+fashion, purely by way of moral support for her parent, was
+another matter.
+
+George was perhaps a shade material. Himself a robust young man
+and taking what might be called an outsize in meals, he attached
+perhaps too much importance to food as an adjunct to the perfect
+life. In his survey of Aline he took a line through his own
+requirements; and believing that eleven such dinners as he had
+seen Aline partake of would have killed him he decided that his
+loved one was on the point of starvation.
+
+No human being, he held, could exist on such Barmecide feasts.
+That Mr. Peters continued to do so did not occur to him as a flaw
+in his reasoning. He looked on Mr. Peters as a sort of machine.
+Successful business men often give that impression to the young.
+If George had been told that Mr. Peters went along on gasoline,
+like an automobile, he would not have been much surprised. But
+that Aline--his Aline--should have to deny herself the exercise
+of that mastication of rich meats which, together with the gift
+of speech, raises man above the beasts of the field---- That was
+what tortured George.
+
+He had devoted the day to thinking out a solution of the problem.
+Such was the overflowing goodness of Aline's heart that not even
+he could persuade her to withdraw her moral support from her
+father and devote herself to keeping up her strength as she
+should do. It was necessary to think of some other plan.
+
+And then a speech of hers had come back to him. She had
+said--poor child:
+
+"I do get a little hungry sometimes--late at night generally."
+
+The problem was solved. Food should be brought to her late at
+night.
+
+On the table by his bed was a stout sheet of packing paper. On
+this lay, like one of those pictures in still life that one sees
+on suburban parlor walls, a tongue, some bread, a knife, a fork,
+salt, a corkscrew and a small bottle of white wine.
+
+It is a pleasure, when one has been able hitherto to portray
+George's devotion only through the medium of his speeches, to
+produce these comestibles as Exhibit A, to show that he loved
+Aline with no common love; for it had not been an easy task to
+get them there. In a house of smaller dimensions he would have
+raided the larder without shame, but at Blandings Castle there
+was no saying where the larder might be. All he knew was that it
+lay somewhere beyond that green-baize door opening on the hall,
+past which he was wont to go on his way to bed. To prowl through
+the maze of the servants' quarters in search of it was
+impossible. The only thing to be done was to go to Market
+Blandings and buy the things.
+
+Fortune had helped him at the start by arranging that the
+Honorable Freddie, also, should be going to Market Blandings in
+the little runabout, which seated two. He had acquiesced in
+George's suggestion that he, George, should occupy the other
+seat, but with a certain lack of enthusiasm it seemed to George.
+He had not volunteered any reason as to why he was going to
+Market Blandings in the little runabout, and on arrival there had
+betrayed an unmistakable desire to get rid of George at the
+earliest opportunity.
+
+As this had suited George to perfection, he being desirous of
+getting rid of the Honorable Freddie at the earliest opportunity,
+he had not been inquisitive, and they had parted on the outskirts
+of the town without mutual confidences.
+
+George had then proceeded to the grocer's, and after that to
+another of the Market Blandings inns, not the Emsworth Arms,
+where he had bought the white wine. He did not believe in the
+local white wine, for he was a young man with a palate and
+mistrusted country cellars, but he assumed that, whatever its
+quality, it would cheer Aline in the small hours.
+
+He had then tramped the whole five miles back to the castle with
+his purchases. It was here that his real troubles began and the
+quality of his love was tested. The walk, to a heavily laden man,
+was bad enough; but it was as nothing compared with the ordeal of
+smuggling the cargo up to his bedroom. Superhuman though he was,
+George was alive to the delicacy of the situation. One cannot
+convey food and drink to one's room in a strange house without,
+if detected, seeming to cast a slur on the table of the host. It
+was as one who carries dispatches through an enemy's lines that
+George took cover, emerged from cover, dodged, ducked and ran;
+and the moment when he sank down on his bed, the door locked
+behind him, was one of the happiest of his life.
+
+The recollection of that ordeal made the one he proposed to
+embark on now seem slight in comparison. All he had to do was to
+go to Aline's room on the other side of the house, knock softly
+on the door until signs of wakefulness made themselves heard from
+within, and then dart away into the shadows whence he had come,
+and so back to bed. He gave Aline credit for the intelligence
+that would enable her, on finding a tongue, some bread, a knife,
+a fork, salt, a corkscrew and a bottle of white wine on the mat,
+to know what to do with them--and perhaps to guess whose was the
+loving hand that had laid them there.
+
+The second clause, however, was not important, for he proposed to
+tell her whose was the hand next morning. Other people might hide
+their light under a bushel--not George Emerson.
+
+It only remained now to allow time to pass until the hour should
+be sufficiently advanced to insure safety for the expedition. He
+looked at his watch again. It was nearly two. By this time the
+house must be asleep.
+
+He gathered up the tongue, the bread, the knife, the fork, the
+salt, the corkscrew and the bottle of white wine, and left the
+room. All was still. He stole downstairs.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+On his chair in the gallery that ran round the hall, swathed in
+an overcoat and wearing rubber-soled shoes, the Efficient Baxter
+sat and gazed into the darkness. He had lost the first fine
+careless rapture, as it were, which had helped him to endure
+these vigils, and a great weariness was on him. He found
+difficulty in keeping his eyes open, and when they were open the
+darkness seemed to press on them painfully. Take him for all in
+all, the Efficient Baxter had had about enough of it.
+
+Time stood still. Baxter's thoughts began to wander. He knew that
+this was fatal and exerted himself to drag them back. He tried to
+concentrate his mind on some one definite thing. He selected the
+scarab as a suitable object, but it played him false. He had
+hardly concentrated on the scarab before his mind was straying
+off to ancient Egypt, to Mr. Peters' dyspepsia, and on a dozen
+other branch lines of thought.
+
+He blamed the fat man at the inn for this. If the fat man had not
+thrust his presence and conversation on him he would have been
+able to enjoy a sound sleep in the afternoon, and would have come
+fresh to his nocturnal task. He began to muse on the fat man.
+And by a curious coincidence whom should he meet a few moments
+later but this same man!
+
+It happened in a somewhat singular manner, though it all seemed
+perfectly logical and consecutive to Baxter. He was climbing up
+the outer wall of Westminster Abbey in his pyjamas and a tall
+hat, when the fat man, suddenly thrusting his head out of a
+window which Baxter had not noticed until that moment, said,
+"Hello, Freddie!"
+
+Baxter was about to explain that his name was not Freddie when he
+found himself walking down Piccadilly with Ashe Marson. Ashe said
+to him: "Nobody loves me. Everybody steals my grapefruit!" And
+the pathos of it cut the Efficient Baxter like a knife. He was on
+the point of replying; when Ashe vanished and Baxter discovered
+that he was not in Piccadilly, as he had supposed, but in an
+aeroplane with Mr. Peters, hovering over the castle.
+
+Mr. Peters had a bomb in his hand, which he was fondling with
+loving care. He explained to Baxter that he had stolen it from
+the Earl of Emsworth's museum. "I did it with a slice of cold
+beef and a pickle," he explained; and Baxter found himself
+realizing that that was the only way. "Now watch me drop it,"
+said Mr. Peters, closing one eye and taking aim at the castle.
+"I have to do this by the doctor's orders."
+
+He loosed the bomb and immediately Baxter was lying in bed
+watching it drop. He was frightened, but the idea of moving did
+not occur to him. The bomb fell very slowly, dipping and
+fluttering like a feather. It came closer and closer. Then it
+struck with a roar and a sheet of flame.
+
+Baxter woke to a sound of tumult and crashing. For a moment he
+hovered between dreaming and waking, and then sleep passed from
+him, and he was aware that something noisy and exciting was in
+progress in the hall below.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+Coming down to first causes, the only reason why collisions of
+any kind occur is because two bodies defy Nature's law that a
+given spot on a given plane shall at a given moment of time be
+occupied by only one body.
+
+There was a certain spot near the foot of the great staircase
+which Ashe, coming downstairs from Mr. Peters' room, and George
+Emerson, coming up to Aline's room, had to pass on their
+respective routes. George reached it at one minute and three
+seconds after two a.m., moving silently but swiftly; and Ashe,
+also maintaining a good rate of speed, arrived there at one
+minute and four seconds after the hour, when he ceased to walk
+and began to fly, accompanied by George Emerson, now going down.
+His arms were round George's neck and George was clinging to his
+waist.
+
+In due season they reached the foot of the stairs and a small
+table, covered with occasional china and photographs in frames,
+which lay adjacent to the foot of the stairs. That--especially
+the occasional china--was what Baxter had heard.
+
+George Emerson thought it was a burglar. Ashe did not know what
+it was, but he knew he wanted to shake it off; so he insinuated a
+hand beneath George's chin and pushed upward. George, by this
+time parted forever from the tongue, the bread, the knife, the
+fork, the salt, the corkscrew and the bottle of white wine, and
+having both hands free for the work of the moment, held Ashe with
+the left and punched him in the ribs with the right.
+
+Ashe, removing his left arm from George's neck, brought it up as
+a reinforcement to his right, and used both as a means of
+throttling George. This led George, now permanently underneath,
+to grasp Ashe's ears firmly and twist them, relieving the
+pressure on his throat and causing Ashe to utter the first vocal
+sound of the evening, other than the explosive Ugh! that both had
+emitted at the instant of impact.
+
+Ashe dislodged George's hands from his ears and hit George in the
+ribs with his elbow. George kicked Ashe on the left ankle. Ashe
+rediscovered George's throat and began to squeeze it afresh; and
+a pleasant time was being had by all when the Efficient Baxter,
+whizzing down the stairs, tripped over Ashe's legs, shot forward
+and cannoned into another table, also covered with occasional
+china and photographs in frames.
+
+The hall at Blandings Castle was more an extra drawing-room than
+a hall; and, when not nursing a sick headache in her bedroom,
+Lady Ann Warblington would dispense afternoon tea there to her
+guests. Consequently it was dotted pretty freely with small
+tables. There were, indeed, no fewer than five more in various
+spots, waiting to be bumped into and smashed.
+
+The bumping into and smashing of small tables, however, is a task
+that calls for plenty of time, a leisured pursuit; and neither
+George nor Ashe, a third party having been added to their little
+affair, felt a desire to stay on and do the thing properly. Ashe
+was strongly opposed to being discovered and called on to account
+for his presence there at that hour; and George, conscious of the
+tongue and its adjuncts now strewn about the hall, had a similar
+prejudice against the tedious explanations that detection must
+involve.
+
+As though by mutual consent each relaxed his grip. They stood
+panting for an instant; then, Ashe in the direction where he
+supposed the green-baize door of the servants' quarters to be,
+George to the staircase that led to his bedroom, they went away
+from that place.
+
+They had hardly done so when Baxter, having disassociated himself
+from the contents of the table he had upset, began to grope his
+way toward the electric-light switch, the same being situated
+near the foot of the main staircase. He went on all fours, as a
+safer method of locomotion, though slower, than the one he had
+attempted before.
+
+Noises began to make themselves heard on the floors above. Roused
+by the merry crackle of occasional china, the house party was
+bestirring itself to investigate. Voices sounded, muffled and
+inquiring.
+
+Meantime Baxter crawled steadily on his hands and knees toward
+the light switch. He was in much the same condition as one White
+Hope of the ring is after he has put his chin in the way of the
+fist of a rival member of the Truck Drivers' Union. He knew that
+he was still alive. More he could not say. The mists of sleep,
+which still shrouded his brain, and the shake-up he had had from
+his encounter with the table, a corner of which he had rammed
+with the top of his head, combined to produce a dreamlike state.
+
+And so the Efficient Baxter crawled on; and as he crawled his
+hand, advancing cautiously, fell on something--something that was
+not alive; something clammy and ice-cold, the touch of which
+filled him with a nameless horror.
+
+To say that Baxter's heart stood still would be physiologically
+inexact. The heart does not stand still. Whatever the emotions of
+its owner, it goes on beating. It would be more accurate to say
+that Baxter felt like a man taking his first ride in an express
+elevator, who has outstripped his vital organs by several floors
+and sees no immediate prospect of their ever catching up with him
+again. There was a great cold void where the more intimate parts
+of his body should have been. His throat was dry and contracted.
+The flesh of his back crawled, for he knew what it was he had
+touched.
+
+Painful and absorbing as had been his encounter with the table,
+Baxter had never lost sight of the fact that close beside him a
+furious battle between unseen forces was in progress. He had
+heard the bumping and the thumping and the tense breathing even
+as he picked occasional china from his person. Such a combat, he
+had felt, could hardly fail to result in personal injury to
+either the party of the first part or the party of the second
+part, or both. He knew now that worse than mere injury had
+happened, and that he knelt in the presence of death.
+
+There was no doubt that the man was dead. Insensibility alone
+could never have produced this icy chill. He raised his head in
+the darkness, and cried aloud to those approaching. He meant to
+cry: "Help! Murder!" But fear prevented clear articulation. What
+he shouted was: "Heh! Mer!" On which, from the neighborhood of
+the staircase, somebody began to fire a revolver.
+
+The Earl of Emsworth had been sleeping a sound and peaceful sleep
+when the imbroglio began downstairs. He sat up and listened. Yes;
+undoubtedly burglars! He switched on his light and jumped out of
+bed. He took a pistol from a drawer, and thus armed went to look
+into the matter. The dreamy peer was no poltroon.
+
+It was quite dark when he arrived on the scene of conflict, in
+the van of a mixed bevy of pyjamaed and dressing-gowned
+relations. He was in the van because, meeting these relations in
+the passage above, he had said to them: "Let me go first. I have
+a pistol." And they had let him go first. They were, indeed,
+awfully nice about it, not thrusting themselves forward or
+jostling or anything, but behaving in a modest and self-effacing
+manner that was pretty to watch.
+
+When Lord Emsworth said, "Let me go first," young Algernon
+Wooster, who was on the very point of leaping to the fore, said,
+"Yes, by Jove! Sound scheme, by Gad!"--and withdrew into the
+background; and the Bishop of Godalming said: "By all means,
+Clarence undoubtedly; most certainly precede us."
+
+When his sense of touch told him he had reached the foot of the
+stairs, Lord Emsworth paused. The hall was very dark and the
+burglars seemed temporarily to have suspended activities. And
+then one of them, a man with a ruffianly, grating voice, spoke.
+What it was he said Lord Emsworth could not understand. It
+sounded like "Heh! Mer!"--probably some secret signal to his
+confederates. Lord Emsworth raised his revolver and emptied it in
+the direction of the sound.
+
+Extremely fortunately for him, the Efficient Baxter had not
+changed his all-fours attitude. This undoubtedly saved Lord
+Emsworth the worry of engaging a new secretary. The shots sang
+above Baxter's head one after the other, six in all, and found
+other billets than his person. They disposed themselves as
+follows: The first shot broke a window and whistled out into the
+night; the second shot hit the dinner gong and made a perfectly
+extraordinary noise, like the Last Trump; the third, fourth and
+fifth shots embedded themselves in the wall; the sixth and final
+shot hit a life-size picture of his lordship's grandmother in the
+face and improved it out of all knowledge.
+
+One thinks no worse of Lord Emsworth's grandmother because she
+looked like Eddie Foy, and had allowed herself to be painted,
+after the heavy classic manner of some of the portraits of a
+hundred years ago, in the character of Venus--suitably draped, of
+course, rising from the sea; but it was beyond the possibility of
+denial that her grandson's bullet permanently removed one of
+Blandings Castle's most prominent eyesores.
+
+Having emptied his revolver, Lord Emsworth said, "Who is there?
+Speak!" in rather an aggrieved tone, as though he felt he had
+done his part in breaking the ice, and it was now for the
+intruder to exert himself and bear his share of the social
+amenities.
+
+The Efficient Baxter did not reply. Nothing in the world could
+have induced him to speak at that moment, or to make any sound
+whatsoever that might betray his position to a dangerous maniac
+who might at any instant reload his pistol and resume the
+fusillade. Explanations, in his opinion, could be deferred until
+somebody had the presence of mind to switch on the lights. He
+flattened himself on the carpet and hoped for better things. His
+cheek touched the corpse beside him; but though he winced and
+shuddered he made no outcry. After those six shots he was through
+with outcries.
+
+A voice from above, the bishop's voice, said: "I think you have
+killed him, Clarence."
+
+Another voice, that of Colonel Horace Mant, said: "Switch on
+those dashed lights! Why doesn't somebody? Dash it!"
+
+The whole strength of the company began to demand light.
+
+When the lights came, it was from the other side of the hall.
+Six revolver shots, fired at quarter past two in the morning,
+will rouse even sleeping domestics. The servants' quarters were
+buzzing like a hive. Shrill feminine screams were puncturing the
+air. Mr. Beach, the butler, in a suit of pink silk pajamas, of
+which no one would have suspected him, was leading a party of men
+servants down the stairs--not so much because he wanted to lead
+them as because they pushed him.
+
+The passage beyond the green-baize door became congested, and
+there were cries for Mr. Beach to open it and look through and
+see what was the matter; but Mr. Beach was smarter than that and
+wriggled back so that he no longer headed the procession. This
+done, he shouted:
+
+"Open that door there! Open that door! Look and see what the
+matter is."
+
+Ashe opened the door. Since his escape from the hall he had been
+lurking in the neighborhood of the green-baize door and had been
+engulfed by the swirling throng. Finding himself with elbowroom
+for the first time, he pushed through, swung the door open and
+switched on the lights.
+
+They shone on a collection of semi-dressed figures, crowding the
+staircase; on a hall littered with china and glass; on a dented
+dinner gong; on an edited and improved portrait of the late
+Countess of Emsworth; and on the Efficient Baxter, in an overcoat
+and rubber-soled shoes, lying beside a cold tongue. At no great
+distance lay a number of other objects--a knife, a fork, some
+bread, salt, a corkscrew and a bottle of white wine.
+
+Using the word in the sense of saying something coherent, the
+Earl of Emsworth was the first to speak. He peered down at his
+recumbent secretary and said:
+
+"Baxter! My dear fellow--what the devil?"
+
+The feeling of the company was one of profound disappointment.
+They were disgusted at the anticlimax. For an instant, when the
+Efficient one did not move, a hope began to stir; but as soon as
+it was seen that he was not even injured, gloom reigned. One of
+two things would have satisfied them--either a burglar or a
+corpse. A burglar would have been welcome, dead or alive; but, if
+Baxter proposed to fill the part adequately it was imperative
+that he be dead. He had disappointed them deeply by turning out
+to be the object of their quest. That he should not have been
+even grazed was too much.
+
+There was a cold silence as he slowly raised himself from the
+floor. As his eyes fell on the tongue, he started and remained
+gazing fixedly at it. Surprise paralyzed him.
+
+Lord Emsworth was also looking at the tongue and he leaped to a
+not unreasonable conclusion. He spoke coldly and haughtily; for
+he was not only annoyed, like the others, at the anticlimax, but
+offended. He knew that he was not one of your energetic hosts who
+exert themselves unceasingly to supply their guests with
+entertainment; but there was one thing on which, as a host, he
+did pride himself--in the material matters of life he did his
+guests well; he kept an admirable table.
+
+"My dear Baxter," he said in the tones he usually reserved for
+the correction of his son Freddie, "if your hunger is so great
+that you are unable to wait for breakfast and have to raid my
+larder in the middle of the night, I wish to goodness you would
+contrive to make less noise about it. I do not grudge you the
+food--help yourself when you please--but do remember that people
+who have not such keen appetites as yourself like to sleep during
+the night. A far better plan, my dear fellow, would be to have
+sandwiches or buns--or whatever you consider most sustaining--
+sent up to your bedroom."
+
+Not even the bullets had disordered Baxter's faculties so much as
+this monstrous accusation. Explanations pushed and jostled one
+another in his fermenting brain, but he could not utter them. On
+every side he met gravely reproachful eyes. George Emerson was
+looking at him in pained disgust. Ashe Marson's face was the face
+of one who could never have believed this had he not seen it with
+his own eyes. The scrutiny of the knife-and-shoe boy was
+unendurable.
+
+He stammered. Words began to proceed from him, tripping and
+stumbling over each other. Lord Emsworth's frigid disapproval did
+not relax.
+
+"Pray do not apologize, Baxter. The desire for food is human. It
+is your boisterous mode of securing and conveying it that I
+deprecate. Let us all go to bed."
+
+"But, Lord Emsworth-----"
+
+"To bed!" repeated his lordship firmly.
+
+The company began to stream moodily upstairs. The lights were
+switched off. The Efficient Baxter dragged himself away. From the
+darkness in the direction of the servants' door a voice spoke.
+
+"Greedy pig!" said the voice scornfully.
+
+It sounded like the fresh young voice of the knife-and-shoe boy,
+but Baxter was too broken to investigate. He continued his
+retreat without pausing.
+
+"Stuffin' of 'isself at all hours!" said the voice.
+
+There was a murmur of approval from the unseen throng of
+domestics.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+As we grow older and realize more clearly the limitations of
+human happiness, we come to see that the only real and abiding
+pleasure in life is to give pleasure to other people. One must
+assume that the Efficient Baxter had not reached the age when
+this comes home to a man, for the fact that he had given genuine
+pleasure to some dozens of his fellow-men brought him no balm.
+
+There was no doubt about the pleasure he had given. Once they had
+got over their disappointment at finding that he was not a dead
+burglar, the house party rejoiced whole-heartedly at the break in
+the monotony of life at Blandings Castle. Relations who had not
+been on speaking terms for years forgot their quarrels and
+strolled about the grounds in perfect harmony, abusing Baxter.
+The general verdict was that he was insane.
+
+"Don't tell me that young fellow's all there," said Colonel
+Horace Mant; "because I know better. Have you noticed his eye?
+Furtive! Shifty! Nasty gleam in it. Besides--dash it!--did you
+happen to take a look at the hall last night after he had been
+there? It was in ruins, my dear sir--absolute dashed ruins. It
+was positively littered with broken china and tables that had
+been bowled over. Don't tell me that was just an accidental
+collision in the dark.
+
+"My dear sir, the man must have been thrashing about--absolutely
+thrashing about, like a dashed salmon on a dashed hook. He must
+have had a paroxysm of some kind--some kind of a dashed fit. A
+doctor could give you the name for it. It's a well-known form of
+insanity. Paranoia--isn't that what they call it? Rush of blood
+to the head, followed by a general running amuck.
+
+"I've heard fellows who have been in India talk of it. Natives
+get it. Don't know what they're doing, and charge through the
+streets taking cracks at people with dashed whacking great
+knives. Same with this young man, probably in a modified form at
+present. He ought to be in a home. One of these nights, if this
+grows on him, he will be massacring Emsworth in his bed."
+
+"My dear Horace!" The Bishop of Godalming's voice was properly
+horror-stricken; but there was a certain unctuous relish in it.
+
+"Take my word for it! Though, mind you, I don't say they aren't
+well suited. Everyone knows that Emsworth has been, to all
+practical intents and purposes, a dashed lunatic for years. What
+was it that young fellow Emerson, Freddie's American friend, was
+saying, the other day about some acquaintance of his who is not
+quite right in the head? Nobody in the house--is that it?
+Something to that effect, at any rate. I felt at the time it was
+a perfect description of Emsworth."
+
+"My dear Horace! Your father-in-law! The head of the family!"
+
+"A dashed lunatic, my dear sir--head of the family or no head of
+the family. A man as absent-minded as he is has no right to call
+himself sane. Nobody in the house--I recollect it now--nobody in
+the house except gas, and that has not been turned on. That's
+Emsworth!"
+
+The Efficient Baxter, who had just left his presence, was feeling
+much the same about his noble employer. After a sleepless night
+he had begun at an early hour to try and corner Lord Emsworth in
+order to explain to him the true inwardness of last night's
+happenings. Eventually he had tracked him to the museum, where he
+found him happily engaged in painting a cabinet of birds' eggs.
+He was seated on a small stool, a large pot of red paint on the
+floor beside him, dabbing at the cabinet with a dripping brush.
+He was absorbed and made no attempt whatever to follow his
+secretary's remarks.
+
+For ten minutes Baxter gave a vivid picture of his vigil and the
+manner in which it had been interrupted.
+
+"Just so; just so, my dear fellow," said the earl when he had
+finished. "I quite understand. All I say is, if you do require
+additional food in the night let one of the servants bring it to
+your room before bedtime; then there will be no danger of these
+disturbances. There is no possible objection to your eating a
+hundred meals a day, my good Baxter, provided you do not rouse
+the whole house over them. Some of us like to sleep during the
+night."
+
+"But, Lord Emsworth! I have just explained--It was not--I was
+not--"
+
+"Never mind, my dear fellow; never mind. Why make such an
+important thing of it? Many people like a light snack before
+actually retiring. Doctors, I believe, sometimes recommend it.
+Tell me, Baxter, how do you think the museum looks now? A little
+brighter? Better for the dash of color? I think so. Museums are
+generally such gloomy places."
+
+"Lord Emsworth, may I explain once again?"
+
+The earl looked annoyed.
+
+"My dear Baxter, I have told you that there is nothing to
+explain. You are getting a little tedious. What a deep, rich red
+this is, and how clean new paint smells! Do you know, Baxter, I
+have been longing to mess about with paint ever since I was a
+boy! I recollect my old father beating me with a walking stick.
+. . . That would be before your time, of course. By the way, if
+you see Freddie, will you tell him I want to speak to him? He
+probably is in the smoking-room. Send him to me here."
+
+It was an overwrought Baxter who delivered the message to the
+Honorable Freddie, who, as predicted, was in the smoking-room,
+lounging in a deep armchair.
+
+There are times when life presses hard on a man, and it pressed
+hard on Baxter now. Fate had played him a sorry trick. It had put
+him in a position where he had to choose between two courses,
+each as disagreeable as the other. He must either face a possible
+second fiasco like that of last night, or else he must abandon
+his post and cease to mount guard over his threatened treasure.
+
+His imagination quailed at the thought of a repetition of last
+night's horrors. He had been badly shaken by his collision with
+the table and even more so by the events that had followed it.
+Those revolver shots still rang in his ears.
+
+It was probably the memory of those shots that turned the scale.
+It was unlikely he would again become entangled with a man
+bearing a tongue and the other things--he had given up in despair
+the attempt to unravel the mystery of the tongue; it completely
+baffled him--but it was by no means unlikely that if he spent
+another night in the gallery looking on the hall he might not
+again become a target for Lord Emsworth's irresponsible firearm.
+Nothing, in fact, was more likely; for in the disturbed state of
+the public mind the slightest sound after nightfall would be
+sufficient cause for a fusillade.
+
+He had actually overheard young Algernon Wooster telling Lord
+Stockheath he had a jolly good mind to sit on the stairs that
+night with a shotgun, because it was his opinion that there was a
+jolly sight more in this business than there seemed to be; and
+what he thought of the bally affair was that there was a gang of
+some kind at work, and that that feller--what's-his-name?--that
+feller Baxter was some sort of an accomplice.
+
+With these things in his mind Baxter decided to remain that night
+in the security of his bedroom. He had lost his nerve. He formed
+this decision with the utmost reluctance, for the thought of
+leaving the road to the museum clear for marauders was bitter in
+the extreme. If he could have overheard a conversation between
+Joan Valentine and Ashe Marson it is probable he would have
+risked Lord Emsworth's revolver and the shotgun of the Honorable
+Algernon Wooster.
+
+Ashe, when he met Joan and recounted the events of the night, at
+which Joan, who was a sound sleeper, had not been present, was
+inclined to blame himself as a failure. True, fate had been
+against him, but the fact remained that he had achieved nothing.
+Joan, however, was not of this opinion.
+
+"You have done wonders," she said. "You have cleared the way for
+me. That is my idea of real teamwork. I'm so glad now that we
+formed our partnership. It would have been too bad if I had got
+all the advantage of your work and had jumped in and deprived you
+of the reward. As it is, I shall go down and finish the thing off
+to-night with a clear conscience."
+
+"You can't mean that you dream of going down to the museum
+to-night!"
+
+"Of course I do."
+
+"But it's madness!"
+
+"On the contrary, to-night is the one night when there ought to
+be no risk at all."
+
+"After what happened last night?"
+
+"Because of what happened last night. Do you imagine Mr. Baxter
+will dare to stir from his bed after that? If ever there was a
+chance of getting this thing finished, it will be to-night."
+
+"You're quite right. I never looked at it in that way. Baxter
+wouldn't risk a second disaster. I'll certainly make a success of
+it this time."
+
+Joan raised her eyebrows.
+
+"I don't quite understand you, Mr. Marson. Do you propose to try
+to get the scarab to-night?"
+
+"Yes. It will be as easy as--"
+
+"Are you forgetting that, by the terms of our agreement, it is my
+turn?"
+
+"You surely don't intend to hold me to that?"
+
+"Certainly I do."
+
+"But, good heavens, consider my position! Do you seriously expect
+me to lie in bed while you do all the work, and then to take a
+half share in the reward?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"It's ridiculous!"
+
+"It's no more ridiculous than that I should do the same. Mr.
+Marson, there's no use in our going over all this again. We
+settled it long ago."
+
+Joan refused to discuss the matter further, leaving Ashe in a
+condition of anxious misery comparable only to that which, as
+night began to draw near, gnawed the vitals of the Efficient
+Baxter.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+Breakfast at Blandings Castle was an informal meal. There was
+food and drink in the long dining-hall for such as were energetic
+enough to come down and get it; but the majority of the house
+party breakfasted in their rooms, Lord Emsworth, whom nothing in
+the world would have induced to begin the day in the company of a
+crowd of his relations, most of whom he disliked, setting them
+the example.
+
+When, therefore, Baxter, yielding to Nature after having remained
+awake until the early morning, fell asleep at nine o'clock,
+nobody came to rouse him. He did not ring his bell, so he was not
+disturbed; and he slept on until half past eleven, by which time,
+it being Sunday morning and the house party including one bishop
+and several of the minor clergy, most of the occupants of the
+place had gone off to church.
+
+Baxter shaved and dressed hastily, for he was in state of nervous
+apprehension. He blamed himself for having lain in bed so long.
+When every minute he was away might mean the loss of the scarab,
+he had passed several hours in dreamy sloth. He had wakened with
+a presentiment. Something told him the scarab had been stolen in
+the night, and he wished now that he had risked all and kept
+guard.
+
+The house was very quiet as he made his way rapidly to the hall.
+As he passed a window he perceived Lord Emsworth, in an
+un-Sabbatarian suit of tweeds and bearing a garden fork--which
+must have pained the bishop--bending earnestly over a flower bed;
+but he was the only occupant of the grounds, and indoors there
+was a feeling of emptiness. The hall had that Sunday-morning air
+of wanting to be left to itself, and disapproving of the entry of
+anything human until lunch time, which can be felt only by a
+guest in a large house who remains at home when his fellows have
+gone to church.
+
+The portraits on the walls, especially the one of the Countess of
+Emsworth in the character of Venus rising from the sea, stared at
+Baxter as he entered, with cold reproof. The very chairs seemed
+distant and unfriendly; but Baxter was in no mood to appreciate
+their attitude. His conscience slept. His mind was occupied, to
+the exclusion of all other things, by the scarab and its probable
+fate. How disastrously remiss it had been of him not to keep
+guard last night! Long before he opened the museum door he was
+feeling the absolute certainty that the worst had happened.
+
+It had. The card which announced that here was an Egyptian scarab
+of the reign of Cheops of the Fourth Dynasty, presented by J.
+Preston Peters, Esquire, still lay on the cabinet in its wonted
+place; but now its neat lettering was false and misleading. The
+scarab was gone.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+For all that he had expected this, for all his premonition of
+disaster, it was an appreciable time before the Efficient Baxter
+rallied from the blow. He stood transfixed, goggling at the empty
+place.
+
+Then his mind resumed its functions. All, he perceived, was not
+yet lost. Baxter the watchdog must retire, to be succeeded by
+Baxter the sleuthhound. He had been unable to prevent the theft
+of the scarab, but he might still detect the thief.
+
+For the Doctor Watsons of this world, as opposed to the Sherlock
+Holmeses, success in the province of detective work must always
+be, to a very large extent, the result of luck. Sherlock Holmes
+can extract a clew from a wisp of straw or a flake of cigar ash;
+but Doctor Watson has to have it taken out for him and dusted,
+and exhibited clearly, with a label attached.
+
+The average man is a Doctor Watson. We are wont to scoff in a
+patronizing manner at that humble follower of the great
+investigator; but as a matter of fact we should have been just as
+dull ourselves. We should not even have risen to the modest
+height of a Scotland Yard bungler.
+
+Baxter was a Doctor Watson. What he wanted was a clew; but it is
+so hard for the novice to tell what is a clew and what is not.
+And then he happened to look down--and there on the floor was a
+clew that nobody could have overlooked.
+
+Baxter saw it, but did not immediately recognize it for what it
+was. What he saw, at first, was not a clew, but just a mess. He
+had a tidy soul and abhorred messes, and this was a particularly
+messy mess. A considerable portion of the floor was a sea of red
+paint. The can from which it had flowed was lying on its
+side--near the wall. He had noticed that the smell of paint had
+seemed particularly pungent, but had attributed this to a new
+freshet of energy on the part of Lord Emsworth. He had not
+perceived that paint had been spilled.
+
+"Pah!" said Baxter.
+
+Then suddenly, beneath the disguise of the mess, he saw the clew.
+A footmark! No less. A crimson footmark on the polished wood! It
+was as clear and distinct as though it had been left there for
+the purpose of assisting him. It was a feminine footmark, the
+print of a slim and pointed shoe.
+
+This perplexed Baxter. He had looked on the siege of the scarab
+as an exclusively male affair. But he was not perplexed long.
+What could be simpler than that Mr. Peters should have enlisted
+female aid? The female of the species is more deadly than the
+male. Probably she makes a better purloiner of scarabs. At any
+rate, there the footprint was, unmistakably feminine.
+
+Inspiration came to him. Aline Peters had a maid! What more
+likely than that secretly she should be a hireling of Mr. Peters,
+on whom he had now come to look as a man of the blackest and most
+sinister character? Mr. Peters was a collector; and when a
+collector makes up his mind to secure a treasure, he employs,
+Baxter knew, every possible means to that end.
+
+Baxter was now in a state of great excitement. He was hot on the
+scent and his brain was working like a buzz saw in an ice box.
+According to his reasoning, if Aline Peters' maid had done this
+thing there should be red paint in the hall marking her retreat,
+and possibly a faint stain on the stairs leading to the servants'
+bedrooms.
+
+He hastened from the museum and subjected the hall to a keen
+scrutiny. Yes; there was red paint on the carpet. He passed
+through the green-baize door and examined the stairs. On the
+bottom step there was a faint but conclusive stain of crimson!
+
+He was wondering how best to follow up this clew when he
+perceived Ashe coming down the stairs. Ashe, like Baxter, and as
+the result of a night disturbed by anxious thoughts, had also
+overslept himself.
+
+There are moments when the giddy excitement of being right on the
+trail causes the amateur--or Watsonian--detective to be
+incautious. If Baxter had been wise he would have achieved his
+object--the getting a glimpse of Joan's shoes--by a devious and
+snaky route. As it was, zeal getting the better of prudence, he
+rushed straight on. His early suspicion of Ashe had been
+temporarily obscured. Whatever Ashe's claims to be a suspect, it
+had not been his footprint Baxter had seen in the museum.
+
+"Here, you!" said the Efficient Baxter excitedly.
+
+"Sir?"
+
+"The shoes!"
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"I wish to see the servants' shoes. Where are they?"
+
+"I expect they have them on, sir."
+
+"Yesterday's shoes, man--yesterday's shoes. Where are they?"
+
+"Where are the shoes of yesteryear?" murmured Ashe. "I should say
+at a venture, sir, that they would be in a large basket somewhere
+near the kitchen. Our genial knife-and-shoe boy collects them, I
+believe, at early dawn."
+
+"Would they have been cleaned yet?"
+
+"If I know the lad, sir--no."
+
+"Go and bring that basket to me. Bring it to me in this room."
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+The room to which he referred was none other than the private
+sanctum of Mr. Beach, the butler, the door of which, standing
+open, showed it to be empty. It was not Baxter's plan, excited as
+he was, to risk being discovered sifting shoes in the middle of a
+passage in the servants' quarters.
+
+Ashe's brain was working rapidly as he made for the shoe
+cupboard, that little den of darkness and smells, where Billy,
+the knife-and-shoe boy, better known in the circle in which he
+moved as Young Bonehead, pursued his menial tasks. What exactly
+was at the back of the Efficient Baxter's mind prompting these
+maneuvers he did not know; but that there was something he was
+certain.
+
+He had not yet seen Joan this morning, and he did not know
+whether or not she had carried out her resolve of attempting to
+steal the scarab on the previous night; but this activity and
+mystery on the part of their enemy must have some sinister
+significance. He gathered up the shoe basket thoughtfully. He
+staggered back with it and dumped it down on the floor of Mr.
+Beach's room. The Efficient Baxter stooped eagerly over it.
+Ashe, leaning against the wall, straightened the creases in his
+clothes and flicked disgustedly at an inky spot which the journey
+had transferred from the basket to his coat.
+
+"We have here, sir," he said, "a fair selection of our various
+foot coverings."
+
+"You did not drop any on your way?"
+
+"Not one, sir."
+
+The Efficient Baxter uttered a grunt of satisfaction and bent
+once more to his task. Shoes flew about the room. Baxter knelt on
+the floor beside the basket, and dug like a terrier at a rat
+hole. At last he made a find and with an exclamation of triumph
+rose to his feet. In his hand he held a shoe.
+
+"Put those back," he said.
+
+Ashe began to pick up the scattered footgear.
+
+"That's the lot, sir," he said, rising.
+
+"Now come with me. Leave the basket there. You can carry it back
+when you return."
+
+"Shall I put back that shoe, sir?"
+
+"Certainly not. I shall take this one with me."
+
+"Shall I carry it for you, sir?"
+
+Baxter reflected.
+
+"Yes. I think that would be best."
+
+Trouble had shaken his nerve. He was not certain that there might
+not be others besides Lord Emsworth in the garden; and it
+occurred to him that, especially after his reputation for
+eccentric conduct had been so firmly established by his
+misfortunes that night in the hall, it might cause comment should
+he appear before them carrying a shoe.
+
+Ashe took the shoe and, doing so, understood what before had
+puzzled him. Across the toe was a broad splash of red paint.
+Though he had nothing else to go on, he saw all. The shoe he held
+was a female shoe. His own researches in the museum had made him
+aware of the presence there of red paint. It was not difficult to
+build up on these data a pretty accurate estimate of the position
+of affairs.
+
+"Come with me," said Baxter.
+
+He left the room. Ashe followed him.
+
+In the garden Lord Emsworth, garden fork in hand, was dealing
+summarily with a green young weed that had incautiously shown its
+head in the middle of a flower bed. He listened to Baxter's
+statement with more interest than he usually showed in anybody's
+statements. He resented the loss of the scarab, not so much on
+account of its intrinsic worth as because it had been the gift of
+his friend Mr. Peters.
+
+"Indeed!" he said, when Baxter had finished. "Really? Dear me!
+It certainly seems--It is extremely suggestive. You are certain
+there was red paint on this shoe?"
+
+"I have it with me. I brought it on purpose to show you." He
+looked at Ashe, who stood in close attendance. "The shoe!"
+
+Lord Emsworth polished his glasses and bent over the exhibit.
+
+"Ah!" he said. "Now let me look at--This, you say, is the--Just
+so; just so! Just--My dear Baxter, it may be that I have not
+examined this shoe with sufficient care, but--Can you point out
+to me exactly where this paint is that you speak of?"
+
+The Efficient Baxter stood staring at the shoe with wild, fixed
+stare. Of any suspicion of paint, red or otherwise, it was
+absolutely and entirely innocent!
+
+The shoe became the center of attraction, the center of all eyes.
+The Efficient Baxter fixed it with the piercing glare of one who
+feels that his brain is tottering. Lord Emsworth looked at it
+with a mildly puzzled expression. Ashe Marson examined it with a
+sort of affectionate interest, as though he were waiting for it
+to do a trick of some kind. Baxter was the first to break the
+silence.
+
+"There was paint on this shoe," he said vehemently. "I tell you
+there was a splash of red paint across the toe. This man here
+will bear me out in this. You saw paint on this shoe?"
+
+"Paint, sir?"
+
+"What! Do you mean to tell me you did not see it?"
+
+"No, sir; there was no paint on this shoe."
+
+"This is ridiculous. I saw it with my own eyes. It was a broad
+splash right across the toe."
+
+Lord Emsworth interposed.
+
+"You must have made a mistake, my dear Baxter. There is certainly
+no trace of paint on this shoe. These momentary optical delusions
+are, I fancy, not uncommon. Any doctor will tell you--"
+
+"I had an aunt, your lordship," said Ashe chattily, "who was
+remarkably subject--"
+
+"It is absurd! I cannot have been mistaken," said Baxter. "I am
+positively certain the toe of this shoe was red when I found it."
+
+"It is quite black now, my dear Baxter."
+
+"A sort of chameleon shoe," murmured Ashe.
+
+The goaded secretary turned on him.
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"Nothing, sir."
+
+Baxter's old suspicion of this smooth young man came surging back
+to him.
+
+"I strongly suspect you of having had something to do with this."
+
+"Really, Baxter," said the earl, "that is surely the least
+probable of solutions. This young man could hardly have cleaned
+the shoe on his way from the house. A few days ago, when painting
+in the museum, I inadvertently splashed some paint on my own
+shoe. I can assure you it does not brush off. It needs a very
+systematic cleaning before all traces are removed."
+
+"Exactly, your lordship," said Ashe. "My theory, if I may--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"My theory, your lordship, is that Mr. Baxter was deceived by the
+light-and-shade effects on the toe of the shoe. The morning sun,
+streaming in through the window, must have shone on the shoe in
+such a manner as to give it a momentary and fictitious aspect of
+redness. If Mr. Baxter recollects, he did not look long at the
+shoe. The picture on the retina of the eye consequently had not
+time to fade. I myself remember thinking at the moment that the
+shoe appeared to have a certain reddish tint. The mistake--"
+
+"Bah!" said Baxter shortly.
+
+Lord Emsworth, now thoroughly bored with the whole affair and
+desiring nothing more than to be left alone with his weeds and
+his garden fork, put in his word. Baxter, he felt, was curiously
+irritating these days. He always seemed to be bobbing up. The
+Earl of Emsworth was conscious of a strong desire to be free from
+his secretary's company. He was efficient, yes--invaluable
+indeed--he did not know what he should do without Baxter; but
+there was no denying that his company tended after a while to
+become a trifle tedious. He took a fresh grip on his garden fork
+and shifted it about in the air as a hint that the interview had
+lasted long enough.
+
+"It seems to me, my dear fellow," he said, "the only explanation
+that will square with the facts. A shoe that is really smeared
+with red paint does not become black of itself in the course of a
+few minutes."
+
+"You are very right, your lordship," said Ashe approvingly. "May
+I go now, your lordship?"
+
+"Certainly--certainly; by all means."
+
+"Shall I take the shoe with me, your lordship?"
+
+"If you do not want it, Baxter."
+
+The secretary passed the fraudulent piece of evidence to Ashe
+without a word; and the latter, having included both gentlemen in
+a kindly smile, left the garden.
+
+On returning to the butler's room, Ashe's first act was to remove
+a shoe from the top of the pile in the basket. He was about to
+leave the room with it, when the sound of footsteps in the
+passage outside halted him.
+
+"I do not in the least understand why you wish me to come here,
+my dear Baxter," said a voice, "and you are completely spoiling
+my morning, but--"
+
+For a moment Ashe was at a loss. It was a crisis that called for
+swift action, and it was a little hard to know exactly what to
+do. It had been his intention to carry the paint-splashed shoe
+back to his own room, there to clean it at his leisure; but it
+appeared that his strategic line of retreat was blocked. Plainly,
+the possibility--nay, the certainty--that Ashe had substituted
+another shoe for the one with the incriminating splash of paint
+on it had occurred to the Efficient Baxter almost directly the
+former had left the garden.
+
+The window was open. Ashe looked out. There were bushes below.
+It was a makeshift policy, and one which did not commend itself
+to him as the ideal method, but it seemed the only thing to be
+done, for already the footsteps had reached the door. He threw
+the shoe out of window, and it sank beneath the friendly surface
+of the long grass round a wisteria bush.
+
+Ashe turned, relieved, and the next moment the door opened and
+Baxter walked in, accompanied--with obvious reluctance---by his
+bored employer.
+
+Baxter was brisk and peremptory.
+
+"I wish to look at those shoes again," he said coldly.
+
+"Certainly, sir," said Ashe.
+
+"I can manage without your assistance," said Baxter.
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+Leaning against the wall, Ashe watched him with silent interest,
+as he burrowed among the contents of the basket, like a terrier
+digging for rats. The Earl of Emsworth took no notice of the
+proceedings. He yawned plaintively, and pottered about the room.
+He was one of Nature's potterers.
+
+The scrutiny of the man whom he had now placed definitely as a
+malefactor irritated Baxter. Ashe was looking at him in an
+insufferably tolerant manner, as if he were an indulgent father
+brooding over his infant son while engaged in some childish
+frolic. He lodged a protest.
+
+"Don't stand there staring at me!"
+
+"I was interested in what you were doing, sir."
+
+"Never mind! Don't stare at me in that idiotic way."
+
+"May I read a book, sir?"
+
+"Yes, read if you like."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+Ashe took a volume from the butler's slenderly stocked shelf. The
+shoe-expert resumed his investigations in the basket. He went
+through it twice, but each time without success. After the second
+search he stood up and looked wildly about the room. He was as
+certain as he could be of anything that the missing piece of
+evidence was somewhere within those four walls. There was very
+little cover in the room, even for so small a fugitive as a shoe.
+He raised the tablecloth and peered beneath the table.
+
+"Are you looking for Mr. Beach, sir?" said Ashe. "I think he has
+gone to church."
+
+Baxter, pink with his exertions, fastened a baleful glance upon
+him.
+
+"You had better be careful," he said.
+
+At this point the Earl of Emsworth, having done all the pottering
+possible in the restricted area, yawned like an alligator.
+
+"Now, my dear Baxter--" he began querulously.
+
+Baxter was not listening. He was on the trail. He had caught
+sight of a small closet in the wall, next to the mantelpiece, and
+it had stimulated him.
+
+"What is in this closet?"
+
+"That closet, sir?"
+
+"Yes, this closet." He rapped the door irritably.
+
+"I could not say, sir. Mr. Beach, to whom the closet belongs,
+possibly keeps a few odd trifles there. A ball of string,
+perhaps. Maybe an old pipe or something of that kind. Probably
+nothing of value or interest."
+
+"Open it."
+
+"It appears to be locked, sir--"
+
+"Unlock it."
+
+"But where is the key?"
+
+Baxter thought for a moment.
+
+"Lord Emsworth," he said, "I have my reasons for thinking that
+this man is deliberately keeping the contents of this closet from
+me. I am convinced that the shoe is in there. Have I your leave
+to break open the door?"
+
+The earl looked a little dazed, as if he were unequal to the
+intellectual pressure of the conversation.
+
+"Now, my dear Baxter," said the earl impatiently, "please tell me
+once again why you have brought me in here. I cannot make head or
+tail of what you have been saying. Apparently you accuse this
+young man of keeping his shoes in a closet. Why should you
+suspect him of keeping his shoes in a closet? And if he wishes to
+do so, why on earth should not he keep his shoes in a closet?
+This is a free country."
+
+"Exactly, your lordship," said Ashe approvingly. "You have
+touched the spot."
+
+"It all has to do with the theft of your scarab, Lord Emsworth.
+Somebody got into the museum and stole the scarab."
+
+"Ah, yes; ah, yes--so they did. I remember now. You told me.
+Bad business that, my dear Baxter. Mr. Peters gave me that
+scarab. He will be most deucedly annoyed if it's lost. Yes,
+indeed."
+
+"Whoever stole it upset the can of red paint and stepped in it."
+
+"Devilish careless of them. It must have made the dickens of a
+mess. Why don't people look where they are walking?"
+
+"I suspect this man of shielding the criminal by hiding her shoe
+in this closet."
+
+"Oh, it's not his own shoes that this young man keeps in
+closets?"
+
+"It is a woman's shoe, Lord Emsworth."
+
+"The deuce it is! Then it was a woman who stole the scarab? Is
+that the way you figure it out? Bless my soul, Baxter, one
+wonders what women are coming to nowadays. It's all this
+movement, I suppose. The Vote, and all that--eh? I recollect
+having a chat with the Marquis of Petersfield some time ago. He
+is in the Cabinet, and he tells me it is perfectly infernal the
+way these women carry on. He said sometimes it got to such a
+pitch, with them waving banners and presenting petitions, and
+throwing flour and things at a fellow, that if he saw his own
+mother coming toward him, with a hand behind her back, he would
+run like a rabbit. Told me so himself."
+
+"So," said the Efficient Baxter, cutting in on the flow of
+speech, "what I wish to do is to break open this closet."
+
+"Eh? Why?"
+
+"To get the shoe."
+
+"The shoe? . . . Ah, yes, I recollect now. You were telling me."
+
+"If your lordship has no objection."
+
+"Objection, my dear fellow? None in the world. Why should I have
+any objection? Let me see! What is it you wish to do?"
+
+"This," said Baxter shortly.
+
+He seized the poker from the fireplace and delivered two rapid
+blows on the closet door. The wood was splintered. A third blow
+smashed the flimsy lock. The closet, with any skeletons it might
+contain, was open for all to view.
+
+It contained a corkscrew, a box of matches, a paper-covered copy
+of a book entitled "Mary, the Beautiful Mill-Hand," a bottle of
+embrocation, a spool of cotton, two pencil-stubs, and other
+useful and entertaining objects. It contained, in fact, almost
+everything except a paint-splashed shoe, and Baxter gazed at the
+collection in dumb disappointment.
+
+"Are you satisfied now, my dear Baxter," said the earl, "or is
+there any more furniture that you would like to break? You know,
+this furniture breaking is becoming a positive craze with you, my
+dear fellow. You ought to fight against it. The night before
+last, I don't know how many tables broken in the hall; and now
+this closet. You will ruin me. No purse can stand the constant
+drain."
+
+Baxter did not reply. He was still trying to rally from the blow.
+A chance remark of Lord Emsworth's set him off on the trail once
+more. Lord Emsworth, having said his say, had dismissed the
+affair from his mind and begun to potter again. The course of his
+pottering had brought him to the fireplace, where a little pile
+of soot on the fender caught his eye. He bent down to inspect it.
+
+"Dear me!" he said. "I must remember to tell Beach to have his
+chimney swept. It seems to need it badly."
+
+No trumpet-call ever acted more instantaneously on old war-horse
+than this simple remark on the Efficient Baxter. He was still
+convinced that Ashe had hidden the shoe somewhere in the room,
+and, now that the closet had proved an alibi, the chimney was the
+only spot that remained unsearched. He dived forward with a rush,
+nearly knocking Lord Emsworth off his feet, and thrust an arm up
+into the unknown. The startled peer, having recovered his
+balance, met Ashe's respectfully pitying gaze.
+
+"We must humor him," said the gaze, more plainly than speech.
+
+Baxter continued to grope. The chimney was a roomy chimney, and
+needed careful examination. He wriggled his hand about
+clutchingly. From time to time soot fell in gentle showers.
+
+"My dear Baxter!"
+
+Baxter was baffled. He withdrew his hand from the chimney, and
+straightened himself. He brushed a bead of perspiration from his
+face with the back of his hand. Unfortunately, he used the sooty
+hand, and the result was too much for Lord Emsworth's politeness.
+He burst into a series of pleased chuckles.
+
+"Your face, my dear Baxter! Your face! It is positively covered
+with soot--positively! You must go and wash it. You are quite
+black. Really, my dear fellow, you present rather an
+extraordinary appearance. Run off to your room."
+
+Against this crowning blow the Efficient Baxter could not stand
+up. It was the end.
+
+"Soot!" he murmured weakly. "Soot!"
+
+"Your face is covered, my dear fellow--quite covered."
+
+"It certainly has a faintly sooty aspect, sir," said Ashe.
+
+His voice roused the sufferer to one last flicker of spirit.
+
+"You will hear more of this," he said. "You will--"
+
+At this moment, slightly muffled by the intervening door and
+passageway, there came from the direction of the hall a sound
+like the delivery of a ton of coal. A heavy body bumped down the
+stairs, and a voice which all three recognized as that of the
+Honorable Freddie uttered an oath that lost itself in a final
+crash and a musical splintering sound, which Baxter for one had
+no difficulty in recognizing as the dissolution of occasional
+china.
+
+Even if they had not so able a detective as Baxter with them,
+Lord Emsworth and Ashe would have been at no loss to guess what
+had happened. Doctor Watson himself could have deduced it from
+the evidence. The Honorable Freddie had fallen downstairs.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+With a little ingenuity this portion of the story of Mr. Peters'
+scarab could be converted into an excellent tract, driving home
+the perils, even in this world, of absenting one's self from
+church on Sunday morning. If the Honorable Freddie had gone to
+church he would not have been running down the great staircase at
+the castle at this hour; and if he had not been running down the
+great staircase at the castle at that hour he would not have
+encountered Muriel.
+
+Muriel was a Persian cat belonging to Lady Ann Warblington. Lady
+Ann had breakfasted in bed and lain there late, as she rather
+fancied she had one of her sick headaches coming on. Muriel had
+left her room in the wake of the breakfast tray, being anxious to
+be present at the obsequies of a fried sole that had formed Lady
+Ann's simple morning meal, and had followed the maid who bore it
+until she had reached the hall.
+
+At this point the maid, who disliked Muriel, stopped and made a
+noise like an exploding pop bottle, at the same time taking a
+little run in Muriel's direction and kicking at her with a
+menacing foot. Muriel, wounded and startled, had turned in her
+tracks and sprinted back up the staircase at the exact moment
+when the Honorable Freddie, who for some reason was in a great
+hurry, ran lightly down.
+
+There was an instant when Freddie could have saved himself by
+planting a number-ten shoe on Muriel's spine, but even in that
+crisis he bethought him that he hardly stood solid enough with
+the authorities to risk adding to his misdeeds the slaughter of
+his aunt's favorite cat, and he executed a rapid swerve. The
+spared cat proceeded on her journey upstairs, while Freddie,
+touching the staircase at intervals, went on down.
+
+Having reached the bottom, he sat amid the occasional china, like
+Marius among the ruins of Carthage, and endeavored to ascertain
+the extent of his injuries. He had a dazed suspicion that he was
+irretrievably fractured in a dozen places. It was in this
+attitude that the rescue party found him. He gazed up at them
+with silent pathos.
+
+"In the name of goodness, Frederick," said Lord Emsworth
+peevishly, "what do you imagine you are doing?"
+
+Freddie endeavored to rise, but sank back again with a stifled
+howl.
+
+"It was that bally cat of Aunt Ann's," he said. "It came legging
+it up the stairs. I think I've broken my leg."
+
+"You have certainly broken everything else," said his father
+unsympathetically. "Between you and Baxter, I wonder there's a
+stick of furniture standing in the house."
+
+"Thanks, old chap," said Freddie gratefully as Ashe stepped
+forward and lent him an arm. "I think my bally ankle must have
+got twisted. I wish you would give me a hand up to my room."
+
+"And, Baxter, my dear fellow," said Lord Emsworth, "you might
+telephone to Doctor Bird, in Market Blandings, and ask him to be
+good enough to drive out. I am sorry, Freddie," he added, "that
+you should have met with this accident; but--but everything is
+so--so disturbing nowadays that I feel--I feel most disturbed."
+
+Ashe and the Honorable Freddie began to move across the
+hall--Freddie hopping, Ashe advancing with a sort of polka step.
+As they reached the stairs there was a sound of wheels outside
+and the vanguard of the house party, returned from church,
+entered the house.
+
+"It's all very well to give it out officially that Freddie has
+fallen downstairs and sprained his ankle," said Colonel Horace
+Mant, discussing the affair with the Bishop of Godalming later in
+the afternoon; "but it's my firm belief that that fellow Baxter
+did precisely as I said he would--ran amuck and inflicted dashed
+frightful injuries on young Freddie. When I got into the house
+there was Freddie being helped up the stairs, while Baxter, with
+his face covered with soot, was looking after him with a sort of
+evil grin. What had he smeared his face with soot for, I should
+like to know, if he were perfectly sane?
+
+"The whole thing is dashed fishy and mysterious and the sooner I
+can get Mildred safely out of the place, the better I shall be
+pleased. The fellow's as mad as a hatter!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+When Lord Emsworth, sighting Mr. Peters in the group of returned
+churchgoers, drew him aside and broke the news that the valuable
+scarab, so kindly presented by him to the castle museum, had been
+stolen in the night by some person unknown, he thought the
+millionaire took it exceedingly well. Though the stolen object no
+longer belonged to him, Mr. Peters no doubt still continued to
+take an affectionate interest in it and might have been excused
+had he shown annoyance that his gift had been so carelessly
+guarded.
+
+Mr. Peters was, however, thoroughly magnanimous about the matter.
+He deprecated the notion that the earl could possibly have
+prevented this unfortunate occurrence. He quite understood. He
+was not in the least hurt. Nobody could have foreseen such a
+calamity. These things happened and one had to accept them. He
+himself had once suffered in much the same way, the gem of his
+collection having been removed almost beneath his eyes in the
+smoothest possible fashion.
+
+Altogether, he relieved Lord Emsworth's mind very much; and when
+he had finished doing so he departed swiftly and rang for Ashe.
+When Ashe arrived he bubbled over with enthusiasm. He was lyrical
+in his praise. He went so far as to slap Ashe on the back. It was
+only when the latter disclaimed all credit for what had occurred
+that he checked the flow of approbation.
+
+"It wasn't you who got it? Who was it, then?"
+
+"It was Miss Peters' maid. It's a long story; but we were working
+in partnership. I tried for the thing and failed, and she
+succeeded."
+
+It was with mixed feelings that Ashe listened while Mr. Peters
+transferred his adjectives of commendation to Joan. He admired
+Joan's courage, he was relieved that her venture had ended
+without disaster, and he knew that she deserved whatever anyone
+could find to say in praise of her enterprise: but, at first,
+though he tried to crush it down, he could not help feeling a
+certain amount of chagrin that a girl should have succeeded where
+he, though having the advantage of first chance, had failed. The
+terms of his partnership with Joan had jarred on him from the
+beginning.
+
+A man may be in sympathy with the modern movement for the
+emancipation of woman and yet feel aggrieved when a mere girl
+proves herself a more efficient thief than himself. Woman is
+invading man's sphere more successfully every day; but there are
+still certain fields in which man may consider that he is
+rightfully entitled to a monopoly--and the purloining of scarabs
+in the watches of the night is surely one of them. Joan, in
+Ashe's opinion, should have played a meeker and less active part.
+
+These unworthy emotions did not last long. Whatever his other
+shortcomings, Ashe possessed a just mind. By the time he had
+found Joan, after Mr. Peters had said his say, and dispatched him
+below stairs for that purpose, he had purged himself of petty
+regrets and was prepared to congratulate her whole-heartedly. He
+was, however, resolved that nothing should induce him to share in
+the reward. On that point, he resolved, he would refuse to be
+shaken.
+
+"I have just left Mr. Peters," he began. "All is well. His check
+book lies before him on the table and he is trying to make his
+fountain pen work long enough to write a check. But there is just
+one thing I want to say--"
+
+She interrupted him. To his surprise, she was eyeing him coldly
+and with disapproval.
+
+"And there is just one thing I want to say," she said; "and that
+is, if you imagine I shall consent to accept a penny of the
+reward--"
+
+"Exactly what I was going to say. Of course I couldn't dream of
+taking any of it."
+
+"I don't understand you. You are certainly going to have it all.
+I told you when we made our agreement that I should only take my
+share if you let me do my share of the work. Now that you have
+broken that agreement, nothing could induce me to take it. I know
+you meant it kindly, Mr. Marson, but I simply can't feel
+grateful. I told you that ours was a business contract and that I
+wouldn't have any chivalry; and I thought that after you had
+given me your promise--"
+
+"One moment," said Ashe, bewildered. "I can't follow this. What
+do you mean?"
+
+"What do I mean? Why, that you went down to the museum last night
+before me and took the scarab, though you had promised to stay
+away and give me my chance."
+
+"But I didn't do anything of the sort."
+
+It was Joan's turn to look bewildered.
+
+"But you have got the scarab, Mr. Marson?"
+
+"Why, you have got it!"
+
+"No!"
+
+"But--but it has gone!"
+
+"I know. I went down to the museum last night, as we had
+arranged; and when I got there there was no scarab. It had
+disappeared."
+
+They looked at each other in consternation. Ashe was the first to
+speak.
+
+"It was gone when you got to the museum?"
+
+"There wasn't a trace of it. I took it for granted that you had
+been down before me. I was furious!"
+
+"But this is ridiculous!" said Ashe. "Who can have taken it?
+There was nobody beside ourselves who knew Mr. Peters was
+offering the reward. What exactly happened last night?"
+
+"I waited until one o'clock. Then I slipped down, got into the
+museum, struck a match, and looked for the scarab. It wasn't
+there. I couldn't believe it at first. I struck some more
+matches--quite a number--but it was no good. The scarab was gone;
+so I went back to bed and thought hard thoughts about you. It was
+silly of me. I ought to have known you would not break your word;
+but there didn't seem any other solution of the thing's
+disappearance.
+
+"Well, somebody must have taken it; and the question is, what are
+we to do?" She laughed. "It seems to me that we were a little
+premature in quarreling about how we are to divide that reward.
+It looks as though there wasn't going to be any reward."
+
+"Meantime," said Ashe gloomily, "I suppose I have got to go back
+and tell Peters. I expect it will break his heart."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Blandings Castle dozed in the calm of an English Sunday
+afternoon. All was peace. Freddie was in bed, with orders from
+the doctor to stay there until further notice. Baxter had washed
+his face. Lord Emsworth had returned to his garden fork. The rest
+of the house party strolled about the grounds or sat in them, for
+the day was one of those late spring days that are warm with a
+premature suggestion of midsummer.
+
+Aline Peters was sitting at the open window of her bedroom, which
+commanded an extensive view of the terraces. A pile of letters
+lay on the table beside her, for she had just finished reading
+her mail. The postman came late to the castle on Sundays and she
+had not been able to do this until luncheon was over.
+
+Aline was puzzled. She was conscious of a fit of depression for
+which she could in no way account. She had a feeling that all was
+not well with the world, which was the more remarkable in that
+she was usually keenly susceptible to weather conditions and
+reveled in sunshine like a kitten. Yet here was a day nearly as
+fine as an American day--and she found no solace in it.
+
+She looked down on the terrace; as she looked the figure of
+George Emerson appeared, walking swiftly. And at the sight of him
+something seemed to tell her that she had found the key to her
+gloom.
+
+There are many kinds of walk. George Emerson's was the walk of
+mental unrest. His hands were clasped behind his back, his eyes
+stared straight in front of him from beneath lowering brows, and
+between his teeth was an unlighted cigar. No man who is not a
+professional politician holds an unlighted cigar in his mouth
+unless he wishes to irritate and baffle a ticket chopper in the
+subway, or because unpleasant meditations have caused him to
+forget he has it there. Plainly, then, all was not well with
+George Emerson.
+
+Aline had suspected as much at luncheon; and looking back she
+realized that it was at luncheon her depression had begun. The
+discovery startled her a little. She had not been aware, or she
+had refused to admit to herself, that George's troubles bulked so
+large on her horizon. She had always told herself that she liked
+George, that George was a dear old friend, that George amused and
+stimulated her; but she would have denied she was so wrapped up
+in George that the sight of him in trouble would be enough to
+spoil for her the finest day she had seen since she left America.
+
+There was something not only startling but shocking in the
+thought; for she was honest enough with herself to recognize that
+Freddie, her official loved one, might have paced the grounds of
+the castle chewing an unlighted cigar by the hour without
+stirring any emotion in her at all.
+
+And she was to marry Freddie next month! This was surely a matter
+that called for thought. She proceeded, gazing down the while at
+the perambulating George, to give it thought.
+
+Aline's was not a deep nature. She had never pretended to herself
+that she loved the Honorable Freddie in the sense in which the
+word is used in books. She liked him and she liked the idea of
+being connected with the peerage; her father liked the idea and
+she liked her father. And the combination of these likings had
+caused her to reply "Yes" when, last Autumn, Freddie, swelling
+himself out like an embarrassed frog and gulping, had uttered
+that memorable speech beginning, "I say, you know, it's like
+this, don't you know!"--and ending, "What I mean is, will you
+marry me--what?"
+
+She had looked forward to being placidly happy as the Honorable
+Mrs. Frederick Threepwood. And then George Emerson had reappeared
+in her life, a disturbing element.
+
+Until to-day she would have resented the suggestion that she was
+in love with George. She liked to be with him, partly because he
+was so easy to talk to, and partly because it was exciting to be
+continually resisting the will power he made no secret of trying
+to exercise. But to-day there was a difference. She had suspected
+it at luncheon and she realized it now. As she looked down at him
+from behind the curtain, and marked his air of gloom, she could
+no longer disguise it from herself.
+
+She felt maternal--horribly maternal. George was in trouble and
+she wanted to comfort him.
+
+Freddie, too, was in trouble. But did she want to comfort
+Freddie? No. On the contrary, she was already regretting her
+promise, so lightly given before luncheon, to go and sit with him
+that afternoon. A well-marked feeling of annoyance that he should
+have been so silly as to tumble downstairs and sprain his ankle
+was her chief sentiment respecting Freddie.
+
+George Emerson continued to perambulate and Aline continued to
+watch him. At last she could endure it no longer. She gathered up
+her letters, stacked them in a corner of the dressing-table and
+left the room. George had reached the end of the terrace and
+turned when she began to descend the stone steps outside the
+front door. He quickened his pace as he caught sight of her. He
+halted before her and surveyed her morosely.
+
+"I have been looking for you," he said.
+
+"And here I am. Cheer up, George! Whatever is the matter? I've
+been sitting in my room looking at you, and you have been simply
+prowling. What has gone wrong?"
+
+"Everything!"
+
+"How do you mean--everything?"
+
+"Exactly what I say. I'm done for. Read this."
+
+Aline took the yellow slip of paper. "A cable," added George. "I
+got it this morning--mailed on from my rooms in London. Read it."
+
+"I'm trying to. It doesn't seem to make sense."
+
+George laughed grimly.
+
+"It makes sense all right."
+
+"I don't see how you can say that. 'Meredith elephant
+kangaroo--?'"
+
+"Office cipher; I was forgetting. 'Elephant' means 'Seriously ill
+and unable to attend to duty.' Meredith is one of the partners in
+my firm in New York."
+
+"Oh, I'm so sorry! Do you think he is very sick? Are you very
+fond of Mr. Meredith?"
+
+"Meredith is a good fellow and I like him; but if it was simply a
+matter of his being ill I'm afraid I could manage to bear up
+under the news. Unfortunately 'kangaroo' means 'Return, without
+fail, by the next boat.'"
+
+"You must return by the next boat?" Aline looked at him, in her
+eyes a slow-growing comprehension of the situation. "Oh!" she
+said at length.
+
+"I put it stronger than that," said George.
+
+"But--the next boat---- That means on Wednesday."
+
+"Wednesday morning, from Southampton. I shall have to leave here
+to-morrow."
+
+Aline's eyes were fixed on the blue hills across the valley, but
+she did not see them. There was a mist between. She was feeling
+crushed and ill-treated and lonely. It was as though George was
+already gone and she left alone in an alien land.
+
+"But, George!" she said; she could find no other words for her
+protest against the inevitable.
+
+"It's bad luck," said Emerson quietly; "but I shouldn't wonder if
+it is not the best thing that really could have happened. It
+finishes me cleanly, instead of letting me drag on and make both
+of us miserable. If this cable hadn't come I suppose I should
+have gone on bothering you up to the day of your wedding. I
+should have fancied, to the last moment, that there was a chance
+for me; but this ends me with one punch.
+
+"Even I haven't the nerve to imagine that I can work a miracle in
+the few hours before the train leaves to-morrow. I must just make
+the best of it. If we ever meet again--and I don't see why we
+should--you will be married. My particular brand of mental
+suggestion doesn't work at long range. I shan't hope to influence
+you by telepathy."
+
+He leaned on the balustrade at her side and spoke in a low, level
+voice.
+
+"This thing," he said, "coming as a shock, coming out of the blue
+sky without warning--Meredith is the last man in the world you
+would expect to crack up; he looked as fit as a dray horse the
+last time I saw him--somehow seems to have hammered a certain
+amount of sense into me. Odd it never struck me before; but I
+suppose I have been about the most bumptious, conceited fool that
+ever happened.
+
+"Why I should have imagined that there was a sort of irresistible
+fascination in me, which was bound to make you break off your
+engagement and upset the whole universe simply to win the
+wonderful reward of marrying me, is more than I can understand. I
+suppose it takes a shock to make a fellow see exactly what he
+really amounts to. I couldn't think any more of you than I do;
+but, if I could, the way you have put up with my mouthing and
+swaggering and posing as a sort of superman, would make me do it.
+You have been wonderful!"
+
+Aline could not speak. She felt as though her whole world had
+been turned upside down in the last quarter of an hour. This was
+a new George Emerson, a George at whom it was impossible to
+laugh, but an insidiously attractive George. Her heart beat
+quickly. Her mind was not clear; but dimly she realized that he
+had pulled down her chief barrier of defense and that she was
+more open to attack than she had ever been. Obstinacy, the
+automatic desire to resist the pressure of a will that attempted
+to overcome her own, had kept her cool and level-headed in the
+past. With masterfulness she had been able to cope. Humility was
+another thing altogether.
+
+Soft-heartedness was Aline's weakness. She had never clearly
+recognized it, but it had been partly pity that had induced her
+to accept Freddie; he had seemed so downtrodden and sorry for
+himself during those Autumn days when they had first met.
+Prudence warned her that strange things might happen if once she
+allowed herself to pity George Emerson.
+
+The silence lengthened. Aline could find nothing to say. In her
+present mood there was danger in speech.
+
+"We have known each other so long," said Emerson, "and I have
+told you so often that I love you, we have come to make almost a
+joke of it, as though we were playing some game. It just happens
+that that is our way--to laugh at things; but I am going to say
+it once again, even though it has come to be a sort of catch
+phrase. I love you! I'm reconciled to the fact that I am done
+for, out of the running, and that you are going to marry somebody
+else; but I am not going to stop loving you.
+
+"It isn't a question of whether I should be happier if I forgot
+you. I can't do it. It's just an impossibility--and that's all
+there is to it. Whatever I may be to you, you are part of me, and
+you always will be part of me. I might just as well try to go on
+living without breathing as living without loving you."
+
+He stopped and straightened himself.
+
+"That's all! I don't want to spoil a perfectly good Spring
+afternoon for you by pulling out the tragic stop. I had to say
+all that; but it's the last time. It shan't occur again. There
+will be no tragedy when I step into the train to-morrow. Is there
+any chance that you might come and see me off?"
+
+Aline nodded.
+
+"You will? That will be splendid! Now I'll go and pack and break
+it to my host that I must leave him. I expect, it will be news to
+him to learn that I am here. I doubt if he knows me by sight."
+
+Aline stood where he had left her, leaning on the balustrade. In
+the fullness of time there came to her the recollection she had
+promised Freddie that shortly after luncheon she would sit with
+him.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+The Honorable Freddie, draped in purple pyjamas and propped up
+with many pillows, was lying in bed, reading Gridley Quayle,
+Investigator. Aline's entrance occurred at a peculiarly poignant
+moment in the story and gave him a feeling of having been brought
+violently to earth from a flight in the clouds. It is not often
+an author has the good fortune to grip a reader as the author of
+Gridley Quayle gripped Freddie.
+
+One of the results of his absorbed mood was that he greeted Aline
+with a stare of an even glassier quality than usual. His eyes
+were by nature a trifle prominent; and to Aline, in the
+overstrung condition in which her talk with George Emerson had
+left her, they seemed to bulge at her like a snail's. A man
+seldom looks his best in bed, and to Aline, seeing him for the
+first time at this disadvantage, the Honorable Freddie seemed
+quite repulsive. It was with a feeling of positive panic that she
+wondered whether he would want her to kiss him.
+
+Freddie made no such demand. He was not one of your demonstrative
+lovers. He contented himself with rolling over in bed and
+dropping his lower jaw.
+
+"Hello, Aline!"
+
+Aline sat down on the edge of the bed.
+
+"Well, Freddie?"
+
+Her betrothed improved his appearance a little by hitching up his
+jaw. As though feeling that would be too extreme a measure, he
+did not close his mouth altogether; but he diminished the abyss.
+The Honorable Freddie belonged to the class of persons who move
+through life with their mouths always restfully open.
+
+It seemed to Aline that on this particular afternoon a strange
+dumbness had descended on her. She had been unable to speak to
+George and now she could not think of anything to say to Freddie.
+She looked at him and he looked at her; and the clock on the
+mantel-piece went on ticking.
+
+"It was that bally cat of Aunt Ann's," said Freddie at length,
+essaying light conversation. "It came legging it up the stairs
+and I took the most frightful toss. I hate cats! Do you hate
+cats? I knew a fellow in London who couldn't stand cats."
+
+Aline began to wonder whether there was not something permanently
+wrong with her organs of speech. It should have been a simple
+matter to develop the cat theme, but she found herself unable to
+do so. Her mind was concentrated, to the exclusion of all else,
+on the repellent nature of the spectacle provided by her loved
+one in pyjamas. Freddie resumed the conversation.
+
+"I was just reading a corking book. Have you ever read these
+things? They come out every month, and they're corking. The
+fellow who writes them must be a corker. It beats me how he
+thinks of these things. They are about a detective--a chap called
+Gridley Quayle. Frightfully exciting!"
+
+An obvious remedy for dumbness struck Aline.
+
+"Shall I read to you, Freddie?"
+
+"Right-ho! Good scheme! I've got to the top of this page."
+
+Aline took the paper-covered book.
+
+"'Seven guns covered him with deadly precision.' Did you get as
+far as that?"
+
+"Yes; just beyond. It's a bit thick, don't you know! This chappie
+Quayle has been trapped in a lonely house, thinking he was going
+to see a pal in distress; and instead of the pal there pop out a
+whole squad of masked blighters with guns. I don't see how he's
+going to get out of it, myself; but I'll bet he does. He's a
+corker!"
+
+If anybody could have pitied Aline more than she pitied herself,
+as she waded through the adventures of Mr. Quayle, it would have
+been Ashe Marson. He had writhed as he wrote the words and she
+writhed as she read them. The Honorable Freddie also writhed, but
+with tense excitement.
+
+"What's the matter? Don't stop!" he cried as Aline's voice
+ceased.
+
+"I'm getting hoarse, Freddie."
+
+Freddie hesitated. The desire to remain on the trail with Gridley
+struggled with rudimentary politeness.
+
+"How would it be--Would you mind if I just took a look at the
+rest of it myself? We could talk afterward, you know. I shan't be
+long."
+
+"Of course! Do read if you want to. But do you really like this
+sort of thing, Freddie?"
+
+"Me? Rather! Why--don't you?"
+
+"I don't know. It seems a little--I don't know."
+
+Freddie had become absorbed in his story. Aline did not attempt
+further analysis of her attitude toward Mr. Quayle; she relapsed
+into silence.
+
+It was a silence pregnant with thought. For the first time in
+their relations, she was trying to visualize to herself exactly
+what marriage with this young man would mean. Hitherto, it struck
+her, she had really seen so little of Freddie that she had
+scarcely had a chance of examining him. In the crowded world
+outside he had always seemed a tolerable enough person. To-day,
+somehow, he was different. Everything was different to-day.
+
+This, she took it, was a fair sample of what she might expect
+after marriage. Marriage meant--to come to essentials--that two
+people were very often and for lengthy periods alone together,
+dependent on each other for mutual entertainment. What exactly
+would it be like, being alone often and for lengthy periods with
+Freddie? Well, it would, she assumed, be like this.
+
+"It's all right," said Freddie without looking up. "He did get
+out! He had a bomb on him, and he threatened to drop it and blow
+the place to pieces unless the blighters let him go. So they
+cheesed it. I knew he had something up his sleeve."
+
+Like this! Aline drew a deep breath. It would be like
+this--forever and ever and ever--until she died. She bent forward
+and stared at him.
+
+"Freddie," she said, "do you love me?" There was no reply.
+"Freddie, do you love me? Am I a part of you? If you hadn't me
+would it be like trying to go on living without breathing?"
+
+The Honorable Freddie raised a flushed face and gazed at her with
+an absent eye.
+
+"Eh? What?" he said. "Do I--Oh; yes, rather! I say, one of the
+blighters has just loosed a rattlesnake into Gridley Quayle's
+bedroom through the transom!"
+
+Aline rose from her seat and left the room softly. The Honorable
+Freddie read on, unheeding.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+Ashe Marson had not fallen far short of the truth in his estimate
+of the probable effect on Mr. Peters of the information that his
+precious scarab had once more been removed by alien hands and was
+now farther from his grasp than ever. A drawback to success in
+life is that failure, when it does come, acquires an exaggerated
+importance. Success had made Mr. Peters, in certain aspects of
+his character, a spoiled child.
+
+At the moment when Ashe broke the news he would have parted with
+half his fortune to recover the scarab. Its recovery had become a
+point of honor. He saw it as the prize of a contest between his
+will and that of whatever malignant powers there might be ranged
+against him in the effort to show him that there were limits to
+what he could achieve. He felt as he had felt in the old days
+when people sneaked up on him in Wall Street and tried to loosen
+his grip on a railroad or a pet stock. He was suffering from that
+form of paranoia which makes men multimillionaires. Nobody would
+be foolish enough to become a multimillionaire if it were not for
+the desire to prove himself irresistible.
+
+Mr. Peters obtained a small relief for his feelings by doubling
+the existing reward, and Ashe went off in search of Joan, hoping
+that this new stimulus, acting on their joint brains, might
+develop inspiration.
+
+"Have any fresh ideas been vouchsafed to you?" he asked. "You may
+look on me as baffled."
+
+Joan shook her head.
+
+"Don't give up," she urged. "Think again. Try to realize what
+this means, Mr. Marson. Between us we have lost ten thousand
+dollars in a single night. I can't afford it. It is like losing a
+legacy. I absolutely refuse to give in without an effort and go
+back to writing duke-and-earl stories for Home Gossip."
+
+"The prospect of tackling Gridley Quayle again--"
+
+"Why, I was forgetting that you were a writer of detective
+stories. You ought to be able to solve this mystery in a moment.
+Ask yourself, 'What would Gridley Quayle have done?'"
+
+"I can answer that. Gridley Quayle would have waited helplessly
+for some coincidence to happen to help him out."
+
+"Had he no methods?"
+
+"He was full of methods; but they never led him anywhere without
+the coincidence. However, we might try to figure it out. What
+time did you get to the museum?"
+
+"One o'clock."
+
+"And you found the scarab gone. What does that suggest to you?"
+
+"Nothing. What does it suggest to you?"
+
+"Absolutely nothing. Let us try again. Whoever took the scarab
+must have had special information that Peters was offering the
+reward."
+
+"Then why hasn't he been to Mr. Peters and claimed it?"
+
+"True! That would seem to be a flaw in the reasoning. Once again:
+Whoever took it must have been in urgent and immediate need of
+money."
+
+"And how are we to find out who was in urgent and immediate need
+of money?"
+
+"Exactly! How indeed?"
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"I should think your Mr. Quayle must have been a great comfort to
+his clients, wasn't he?" said Joan.
+
+"Inductive reasoning, I admit, seems to have fallen down to a
+certain extent," said Ashe. "We must wait for the coincidence. I
+have a feeling that it will come." He paused. "I am very
+fortunate in the way of coincidences."
+
+"Are you?"
+
+Ashe looked about him and was relieved to find that they appeared
+to be out of earshot of their species. It was not easy to achieve
+this position at the castle if you happened to be there as a
+domestic servant. The space provided for the ladies and gentlemen
+attached to the guests was limited, and it was rarely that you
+could enjoy a stroll without bumping into a maid, a valet or a
+footman; but now they appeared to be alone. The drive leading to
+the back regions of the castle was empty. As far as the eye could
+reach there were no signs of servants--upper or lower.
+Nevertheless, Ashe lowered his voice.
+
+"Was it not a strange coincidence," he said, "that you should
+have come into my life at all?"
+
+"Not very," said Joan prosaically. "It was quite likely that we
+should meet sooner or later, as we lived on different floors of
+the same house."
+
+"It was a coincidence that you should have taken that room."
+
+"Why?"
+
+Ashe felt damped. Logically, no doubt, she was right; but surely
+she might have helped him out a little in this difficult
+situation. Surely her woman's intuition should have told her that
+a man who has been speaking in a loud and cheerful voice does
+not lower it to a husky whisper without some reason. The
+hopelessness of his task began to weigh on him.
+
+Ever since that evening at Market Blandings Station, when he
+realized that he loved her, he had been trying to find an
+opportunity to tell her so; and every time they had met, the talk
+had seemed to be drawn irresistibly into practical and
+unsentimental channels. And now, when he was doing his best to
+reason it out that they were twin souls who had been brought
+together by a destiny it would be foolish to struggle against;
+when he was trying to convey the impression that fate had designed
+them for each other--she said, "Why?" It was hard.
+
+He was about to go deeper into the matter when, from the
+direction of the castle, he perceived the Honorable Freddie's
+valet--Mr. Judson--approaching. That it was this repellent young
+man's object to break in on them and rob him of his one small
+chance of inducing Joan to appreciate, as he did, the mysterious
+workings of Providence as they affected herself and him, was
+obvious. There was no mistaking the valet's desire for
+conversation. He had the air of one brimming over with speech.
+His wonted indolence was cast aside; and as he drew nearer he
+positively ran. He was talking before he reached them.
+
+"Miss Simpson, Mr. Marson, it's true--what I said that night.
+It's a fact!"
+
+Ashe regarded the intruder with a malevolent eye. Never fond of
+Mr. Judson, he looked on him now with positive loathing. It had
+not been easy for him to work himself up to the point where he
+could discuss with Joan the mysterious ways of Providence, for
+there was that about her which made it hard to achieve sentiment.
+That indefinable something in Joan Valentine which made for
+nocturnal raids on other people's museums also rendered her a
+somewhat difficult person to talk to about twin souls and
+destiny. The qualities that Ashe loved in her--her strength, her
+capability, her valiant self-sufficingness--were the very
+qualities which seemed to check him when he tried to tell her
+that he loved them.
+
+Mr. Judson was still babbling.
+
+"It's true. There ain't a doubt of it now. It's been and happened
+just as I said that night."
+
+"What did you say? Which night?" inquired Ashe.
+
+"That night at dinner--the first night you two came here. Don't
+you remember me talking about Freddie and the girl he used to
+write letters to in London--the girl I said was so like you, Miss
+Simpson? What was her name again? Joan Valentine. That was it.
+The girl at the theater that Freddie used to send me with letters
+to pretty nearly every evening. Well, she's been and done it,
+same as I told you all that night she was jolly likely to go and
+do. She's sticking young Freddie up for his letters, just as he
+ought to have known she would do if he hadn't been a young
+fathead. They're all alike, these girls--every one of them."
+
+Mr. Judson paused, subjected the surrounding scenery to a
+cautious scrutiny and resumed.
+
+"I took a suit of Freddie's clothes away to brush just now; and
+happening"--Mr. Judson paused and gave a little cough--"happening
+to glance at the contents of his pockets I come across a letter.
+I took a sort of look at it before setting it aside, and it was
+from a fellow named Jones; and it said that this girl, Valentine,
+was sticking onto young Freddie's letters what he'd written her,
+and would see him blowed if she parted with them under another
+thousand. And, as I made it out, Freddie had already given her
+five hundred.
+
+"Where he got it is more than I can understand; but that's what
+the letter said. This fellow Jones said he had passed it to her
+with his own hands; but she wasn't satisfied, and if she didn't
+get the other thousand she was going to bring an action for
+breach. And now Freddie has given me a note to take to this
+Jones, who is stopping in Market Blandings."
+
+Joan had listened to this remarkable speech with a stunned
+amazement. At this point she made her first comment:
+
+"But that can't be true."
+
+"Saw the letter with my own eyes, Miss Simpson."
+
+"But----"
+
+She looked at Ashe helplessly. Their eyes met--hers wide with
+perplexity, his bright with the light of comprehension.
+
+"It shows," said Ashe slowly, "that he was in immediate and
+urgent need of money."
+
+"You bet it does," said Mr. Judson with relish. "It looks to me
+as though young Freddie had about reached the end of his tether
+this time. My word! There won't half be a kick-up if she does sue
+him for breach! I'm off to tell Mr. Beach and the rest. They'll
+jump out of their skins." His face fell. "Oh, Lord, I was
+forgetting this note. He told me to take it at once."
+
+"I'll take it for you," said Ashe. "I'm not doing anything."
+
+Mr. Judson's gratitude was effusive.
+
+"You're a good fellow, Marson," he said. "I'll do as much for you
+another time. I couldn't hardly bear not to tell a bit of news
+like this right away. I should burst or something."
+
+And Mr. Judson, with shining face, hurried off to the
+housekeeper's room.
+
+"I simply can't understand it," said Joan at length. "My head is
+going round."
+
+"Can't understand it? Why, it's perfectly clear. This is the
+coincidence for which, in my capacity of Gridley Quayle, I was
+waiting. I can now resume inductive reasoning. Weighing the
+evidence, what do we find? That young sweep, Freddie, is the man.
+He has the scarab."
+
+"But it's all such a muddle. I'm not holding his letters."
+
+"For Jones' purposes you are. Let's get this Jones element in the
+affair straightened out. What do you know of him?"
+
+"He was an enormously fat man who came to see me one night and
+said he had been sent to get back some letters. I told him I had
+destroyed them ages ago and he went away."
+
+"Well, that part of it is clear, then. He is working a simple but
+ingenious game on Freddie. It wouldn't succeed with everybody, I
+suppose; but from what I have seen and heard of him Freddie isn't
+strong on intellect. He seems to have accepted the story without
+a murmur. What does he do? He has to raise a thousand pounds
+immediately, and the raising of the first five hundred has
+exhausted his credit. He gets the idea of stealing the scarab!"
+
+"But why? Why should he have thought of the scarab at all? That
+is what I can't understand. He couldn't have meant to give it to
+Mr. Peters and claim the reward. He couldn't have known that Mr.
+Peters was offering a reward. He couldn't have known that Lord
+Emsworth had not got the scarab quite properly. He couldn't have
+known--he couldn't have known anything!"
+
+Ashe's enthusiasm was a trifle damped.
+
+"There's something in that. But--I have it! Jones must have known
+about the scarab and told him."
+
+"But how could he have known?"
+
+"Yes; there's something in that, too. How could Jones have
+known?"
+
+"He couldn't. He had gone by the time Aline came that night."
+
+"I don't quite understand. Which night?"
+
+"It was the night of the day I first met you. I was wondering for
+a moment whether he could by any chance have overheard Aline
+telling me about the scarab and the reward Mr. Peters was
+offering for it."
+
+"Overheard! That word is like a bugle blast to me. Nine out of
+ten of Gridley Quayle's triumphs were due to his having overheard
+something. I think we are now on the right track."
+
+"I don't. How could he have overheard us? The door was closed and
+he was in the street by that time."
+
+"How do you know he was in the street? Did you see him out?"
+
+"No; but he went."
+
+"He might have waited on the stairs--you remember how dark they
+are at Number Seven--and listened."
+
+"Why?"
+
+Ashe reflected.
+
+"Why? Why? What a beast of a word that is--the detective's
+bugbear. I thought I had it, until you said--Great Scott! I'll
+tell you why. I see it all. I have him with the goods. His object
+in coming to see you about the letters was because Freddie wanted
+them back owing to his approaching marriage with Miss
+Peters--wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You tell him you have destroyed the letters. He goes off. Am I
+right?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Before he is out of the house Miss Peters is giving her name at
+the front door. Put yourself in Jones' place. What does he think?
+He is suspicious. He thinks there is some game on. He skips
+upstairs again, waits until Miss Peters has gone into your room,
+then stands outside and listens. How about that?"
+
+"I do believe you are right. He might quite easily have done
+that."
+
+"He did do exactly that. I know it as though I had been there; in
+fact, it is highly probable I was there. You say all this
+happened on the night we first met? I remember coming downstairs
+that night--I was going out to a vaudeville show--and hearing
+voices in your room. I remember it distinctly. In all probability
+I nearly ran into Jones."
+
+"It does all seem to fit in, doesn't it?"
+
+"It's a clear case. There isn't a flaw in it. The only question
+is, can I, on the evidence, go to young Freddie and choke the
+scarab out of him? On the whole, I think I had better take this
+note to Jones, as I promised Judson, and see whether I can't work
+something through him. Yes; that's the best plan. I'll be
+starting at once."
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+Perhaps the greatest hardship in being an invalid is the fact
+that people come and see you and keep your spirits up. The
+Honorable Freddie Threepwood suffered extremely from this. His
+was not a gregarious nature and it fatigued his limited brain
+powers to have to find conversation for his numerous visitors.
+All he wanted was to be left alone to read the adventures of
+Gridley Quayle, and when tired of doing that to lie on his back
+and look at the ceiling and think of nothing.
+
+It is your dynamic person, your energetic world's worker, who
+chafes at being laid up with a sprained ankle. The Honorable
+Freddie enjoyed it. From boyhood up he had loved lying in bed;
+and now that fate had allowed him to do this without incurring
+rebuke he objected to having his reveries broken up by officious
+relations.
+
+He spent his rare intervals of solitude in trying to decide in
+his mind which of his cousins, uncles and aunts was, all things
+considered, the greatest nuisance. Sometimes he would give the
+palm to Colonel Horace Mant, who struck the soldierly note--"I
+recollect in a hill campaign in the winter of the year '93 giving
+my ankle the deuce of a twist." Anon the more spiritual attitude
+of the Bishop of Godalming seemed to annoy him more keenly.
+
+Sometimes he would head the list with the name of his Cousin
+Percy--Lord Stockheath--who refused to talk of anything except
+his late breach-of-promise case and the effect the verdict had
+had on his old governor. Freddie was in no mood just now to be
+sympathetic with others on their breach-of-promise cases.
+
+As he lay in bed reading on Monday morning, the only flaw in his
+enjoyment of this unaccustomed solitude was the thought that
+presently the door was bound to open and some kind inquirer
+insinuate himself into the room.
+
+His apprehensions proved well founded. Scarcely had he got well
+into the details of an ingenious plot on the part of a secret
+society to eliminate Gridley Quayle by bribing his cook--a bad
+lot--to sprinkle chopped-up horsehair in his chicken fricassee,
+when the door-knob turned and Ashe Marson came in.
+
+Freddie was not the only person who had found the influx of
+visitors into the sick room a source of irritation. The fact that
+the invalid seemed unable to get a moment to himself had annoyed
+Ashe considerably. For some little time he had hung about the
+passage in which Freddie's room was situated, full of enterprise,
+but unable to make a forward move owing to the throng of
+sympathizers. What he had to say to the sufferer could not be
+said in the presence of a third party.
+
+Freddie's sensation, on perceiving him, was one of relief. He had
+been half afraid it was the bishop. He recognized Ashe as the
+valet chappie who had helped him to bed on the occasion of his
+accident. It might be that he had come in a respectful way to
+make inquiries, but he was not likely to stop long. He nodded and
+went on reading. And then, glancing up, he perceived Ashe
+standing beside the bed, fixing him with a piercing stare.
+
+The Honorable Freddie hated piercing stares. One of the reasons
+why he objected to being left alone with his future
+father-in-law, Mr. J. Preston Peters, was that Nature had given
+the millionaire a penetrating pair of eyes, and the stress of
+business life in New York had developed in him a habit of boring
+holes in people with them. A young man had to have a stronger
+nerve and a clearer conscience than the Honorable Freddie to
+enjoy a tete-a-tete with Mr. Peters.
+
+Though he accepted Aline's father as a necessary evil and
+recognized that his position entitled him to look at people as
+sharply as he liked, whatever their feelings, he would be hanged
+if he was going to extend this privilege to Mr. Peters' valet.
+This man standing beside him was giving him a look that seemed to
+his sensitive imagination to have been fired red-hot from a gun;
+and this annoyed and exasperated Freddie.
+
+"What do you want?" he said querulously. "What are you staring at
+me like that for?"
+
+Ashe sat down, leaned his elbows on the bed, and applied the look
+again from a lower elevation.
+
+"Ah!" he said.
+
+Whatever may have been Ashe's defects, so far as the handling of
+the inductive-reasoning side of Gridley Quayle's character was
+concerned, there was one scene in each of his stories in which he
+never failed. That was the scene in the last chapter where
+Quayle, confronting his quarry, unmasked him. Quayle might have
+floundered in the earlier part of the story, but in his big scene
+he was exactly right. He was curt, crisp and mercilessly
+compelling.
+
+Ashe, rehearsing this interview in the passage before his entry,
+had decided that he could hardly do better than model himself on
+the detective. So he began to be curt, crisp and mercilessly
+compelling to Freddie; and after the first few sentences he had
+that youth gasping for air.
+
+"I will tell you," he said. "If you can spare me a few moments of
+your valuable time I will put the facts before you. Yes; press
+that bell if you wish--and I will put them before witnesses. Lord
+Emsworth will no doubt be pleased to learn that his son, whom he
+trusted, is a thief!"
+
+Freddie's hand fell limply. The bell remained un-touched. His
+mouth opened to its fullest extent. In the midst of his panic he
+had a curious feeling that he had heard or read that last
+sentence somewhere before. Then he remembered. Those very words
+occurred in Gridley Quayle, Investigator--The Adventure of the
+Blue Ruby.
+
+"What--what do you mean?" he stammered.
+
+"I will tell you what I mean. On Saturday night a valuable scarab
+was stolen from Lord Emsworth's private museum. The case was put
+into my hands----"
+
+"Great Scott! Are you a detective?"
+
+"Ah!" said Ashe.
+
+Life, as many a worthy writer has pointed out, is full of
+ironies. It seemed to Freddie that here was a supreme example of
+this fact. All these years he had wanted to meet a detective; and
+now that his wish had been gratified the detective was detecting
+him!
+
+"The case," continued Ashe severely, "was placed in my hands. I
+investigated it. I discovered that you were in urgent and
+immediate need of money."
+
+"How on earth did you do that?"
+
+"Ah!" said Ashe. "I further discovered that you were in
+communication with an individual named Jones."
+
+"Good Lord! How?"
+
+Ashe smiled quietly.
+
+"Yesterday I had a talk with this man Jones, who is staying in
+Market Blandings. Why is he staying in Market Blandings? Because
+he had a reason for keeping in touch with you; because you were
+about to transfer to his care something you could get possession
+of, but which only he could dispose of--the scarab."
+
+The Honorable Freddie was beyond speech. He made no comment on
+this statement. Ashe continued:
+
+"I interviewed this man Jones. I said to him: 'I am in the
+Honorable Frederick Threepwood's confidence. I know everything.
+Have you any instructions for me?' He replied: 'What do you
+know?' I answered: 'I know that the Honorable Frederick
+Threepwood has something he wishes to hand to you, but which he
+has been unable to hand to you owing to having had an accident
+and being confined to his room.' He then told me to tell you to
+let him have the scarab by messenger."
+
+Freddie pulled himself together with an effort. He was in sore
+straits, but he saw one last chance. His researches in detective
+fiction had given him the knowledge that detectives occasionally
+relaxed their austerity when dealing with a deserving case. Even
+Gridley Quayle could sometimes be softened by a hard-luck story.
+Freddie could recall half a dozen times when a detected criminal
+had been spared by him because he had done it all from the best
+motives. He determined to throw himself on Ashe's mercy.
+
+"I say, you know," he said ingratiatingly, "I think it's bally
+marvelous the way you've deduced everything, and so on."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"But I believe you would chuck it if you heard my side of the
+case."
+
+"I know your side of the case. You think you are being
+blackmailed by a Miss Valentine for some letters you once wrote
+her. You are not. Miss Valentine has destroyed the letters. She
+told the man Jones so when he went to see her in London. He kept
+your five hundred pounds and is trying to get another thousand
+out of you under false pretenses."
+
+"What? You can't be right."
+
+"I am always right."
+
+"You must be mistaken."
+
+"I am never mistaken."
+
+"But how do you know?"
+
+"I have my sources of information."
+
+"She isn't going to sue me for breach of promise?"
+
+"She never had any intention of doing so."
+
+The Honorable Freddie sank back on the pillows.
+
+"Good egg!" he said with fervor. He beamed happily. "This," he
+observed, "is a bit of all right."
+
+For a space relief held him dumb. Then another aspect of the
+matter struck him, and he sat up again with a jerk.
+
+"I say, you don't mean to say that that rotter Jones was such a
+rotter as to do a rotten thing like that?"
+
+"I do."
+
+Freddie grew plaintive.
+
+"I trusted that man," he said. "I jolly well trusted him
+absolutely."
+
+"I know," said Ashe. "There is one born every minute."
+
+"But"--the thing seemed to be filtering slowly into Freddie's
+intelligence "what I mean to say is, I--I--thought he was such a
+good chap."
+
+"My short acquaintance with Mr. Jones," said Ashe "leads me to
+think that he probably is--to himself."
+
+"I won't have anything more to do with him."
+
+"I shouldn't."
+
+"Dash it, I'll tell you what I'll do. The very next time I meet
+the blighter, I'll cut him dead. I will! The rotter! Five hundred
+quid he's had off me for nothing! And, if it hadn't been for you,
+he'd have had another thousand! I'm beginning to think that my
+old governor wasn't so far wrong when he used to curse me for
+going around with Jones and the rest of that crowd. He knew a
+bit, by Gad! Well, I'm through with them. If the governor ever
+lets me go to London again, I won't have anything to do with
+them. I'll jolly well cut the whole bunch! And to think that, if
+it hadn't been for you . . ."
+
+"Never mind that," said Ashe. "Give me the scarab. Where is it?"
+
+"What are you going to do with it?"
+
+"Restore it to its rightful owner."
+
+"Are you going to give me away to the governor?"
+
+"I am not."
+
+"It strikes me," said Freddie gratefully, "that you are a dashed
+good sort. You seem to me to have the making of an absolute
+topper! It's under the mattress. I had it on me when I fell
+downstairs and I had to shove it in there."
+
+Ashe drew it out. He stood looking at it, absorbed. He could
+hardly believe his quest was at an end and that a small fortune
+lay in the palm of his hand. Freddie was eyeing him admiringly.
+
+"You know," he said, "I've always wanted to meet a detective.
+What beats me is how you chappies find out things."
+
+"We have our methods."
+
+"I believe you. You're a blooming marvel! What first put you on
+my track?"
+
+"That," said Ashe, "would take too long to explain. Of course I
+had to do some tense inductive reasoning; but I cannot trace
+every link in the chain for you. It would be tedious."
+
+"Not to me."
+
+"Some other time."
+
+"I say, I wonder whether you've ever read any of these
+things--these Gridley Quayle stories? I know them by heart."
+
+With the scarab safely in his pocket, Ashe could contemplate the
+brightly-colored volume the other extended toward him without
+active repulsion. Already he was beginning to feel a sort of
+sentiment for the depressing Quayle, as something that had once
+formed part of his life.
+
+"Do you read these things?"
+
+"I should say not. I write them."
+
+There are certain supreme moments that cannot be adequately
+described. Freddie's appreciation of the fact that such a moment
+had occurred in his life expressed itself in a startled cry and a
+convulsive movement of all his limbs. He shot up from the pillows
+and gaped at Ashe.
+
+"You write them? You don't mean, write them!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Great Scott!"
+
+He would have gone on, doubtless, to say more; but at this moment
+voices made themselves heard outside the door. There was a
+movement of feet. Then the door opened and a small procession
+entered.
+
+It was headed by the Earl of Emsworth. Following him came Mr.
+Peters. And in the wake of the millionaire were Colonel Horace
+Mant and the Efficient Baxter. They filed into the room and stood
+by the bedside. Ashe seized the opportunity to slip out.
+
+Freddie glanced at the deputation without interest. His mind was
+occupied with other matters. He supposed they had come to inquire
+after his ankle and he was mildly thankful that they had come in
+a body instead of one by one. The deputation grouped itself about
+the bed and shuffled its feet. There was an atmosphere of
+awkwardness.
+
+"Er--Frederick!" said Lord Emsworth. "Freddie, my boy!"
+
+Mr. Peters fiddled dumbly with the coverlet. Colonel Mant cleared
+his throat. The Efficient Baxter scowled. "Er--Freddie, my dear
+boy, I fear we have a painful--er--task to perform."
+
+The words struck straight home at the Honorable Freddie's guilty
+conscience. Had they, too, tracked him down? And was he now to be
+accused of having stolen that infernal scarab? A wave of relief
+swept over him as he realized that he had got rid of the thing. A
+decent chappie like that detective would not give him away. All
+he had to do was to keep his head and stick to stout denial. That
+was the game--stout denial.
+
+"I don't know what you mean," he said defensively.
+
+"Of course you don't--dash it!" said Colonel Mant. "We're coming
+to that. And I should like to begin by saying that, though in a
+sense it was my fault, I fail to see how I could have acted---"
+
+"Horace!"
+
+"Oh, very well! I was only trying to explain."
+
+Lord Emsworth adjusted his pince-nez and sought inspiration from
+the wall paper.
+
+"Freddie, my boy," he began, "we have a somewhat unpleasant--a
+somewhat er--disturbing--We are compelled to break it to you. We
+are all most pained and astounded; and--"
+
+The Efficient Baxter spoke. It was plain he was in a bad temper.
+
+"Miss Peters," he snapped, "has eloped with your friend Emerson."
+
+Lord Emsworth breathed a sigh of relief.
+
+"Exactly, Baxter. Precisely! You have put the thing in a
+nutshell. Really, my dear fellow, you are invaluable."
+
+All eyes searched Freddie's face for signs of uncontrollable
+emotion. The deputation waited anxiously for his first
+grief-stricken cry.
+
+"Eh? What?" said Freddie.
+
+"It is quite true, Freddie, my dear boy. She went to London with
+him on the ten-fifty."
+
+"And if I had not been forcibly restrained," said Baxter acidly,
+casting a vindictive look at Colonel Mant, "I could have
+prevented it."
+
+Colonel Mant cleared his throat again and put a hand to his
+mustache.
+
+"I'm afraid that is true, Freddie. It was a most unfortunate
+misunderstanding. I'll tell you how it happened: I chanced to be
+at the station bookstall when the train came in. Mr. Baxter was
+also in the station. The train pulled up and this young fellow
+Emerson got in--said good-by to us, don't you know, and got in.
+Just as the train was about to start, Miss Peters exclaiming,
+'George dear, I'm going with you---, dash it,' or some such
+speech--proceeded to go--hell for leather--to the door of young
+Emerson's compartment. On which---"
+
+"On which," interrupted Baxter, "I made a spring to try and catch
+her. Apart from any other consideration, the train was already
+moving and Miss Peters ran considerable risk of injury. I had
+hardly moved when I felt a violent jerk at my ankle and fell to
+the ground. After I had recovered from the shock, which was not
+immediately, I found--"
+
+"The fact is, Freddie, my boy," the colonel went on, "I acted
+under a misapprehension. Nobody can be sorrier for the mistake
+than I; but recent events in this house had left me with the
+impression that Mr. Baxter here was not quite responsible for his
+actions--overwork or something, I imagined. I have seen it happen
+so often in India, don't you know, where fellows run amuck and
+kick up the deuce's own delight. I am bound to admit that I have
+been watching Mr. Baxter rather closely lately in the expectation
+that something of this very kind might happen.
+
+"Of course I now realize my mistake; and I have apologized--
+apologized humbly--dash it! But at the moment I was firmly under
+the impression that our friend here had an attack of some kind
+and was about to inflict injuries on Miss Peters. If I've seen it
+happen once in India, I've seen it happen a dozen times.
+
+"I recollect, in the hot weather of the year '99---or was it
+'93?--I think '93---one of my native bearers--However, I sprang
+forward and caught the crook of my walking stick on Mr. Baxter's
+ankle and brought him down. And by the time explanations were
+made it was too late. The train had gone, with Miss Peters in
+it."
+
+"And a telegram has just arrived," said Lord Emsworth, "to say
+that they are being married this afternoon at a registrar's. The
+whole occurrence is most disturbing."
+
+"Bear it like a man, my boy!" urged Colonel Mant.
+
+To all appearances Freddie was bearing it magnificently. Not a
+single exclamation, either of wrath or pain, had escaped his
+lips. One would have said the shock had stunned him or that he
+had not heard, for his face expressed no emotion whatever.
+
+The fact was, the story had made very little impression on the
+Honorable Freddie of any sort. His relief at Ashe's news about
+Joan Valentine; the stunning joy of having met in the flesh the
+author of the adventures of Gridley Quayle; the general feeling
+that all was now right with the world--these things deprived him
+of the ability to be greatly distressed.
+
+And there was a distinct feeling of relief--actual relief--that
+now it would not be necessary for him to get married. He had
+liked Aline; but whenever he really thought of it the prospect of
+getting married rather appalled him. A chappie looked such an ass
+getting married! It appeared, however, that some verbal comment
+on the state of affairs was required of him. He searched his mind
+for something adequate.
+
+"You mean to say Aline has bolted with Emerson?"
+
+The deputation nodded pained nods. Freddie searched in his mind
+again. The deputation held its breath.
+
+"Well, I'm blowed!" said Freddie. "Fancy that!"
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+Mr. Peters walked heavily into his room. Ashe Marson was waiting
+for him there. He eyed Ashe dully.
+
+"Pack!" he said.
+
+"Pack?"
+
+"Pack! We're getting out of here by the afternoon train."
+
+"Has anything happened?"
+
+"My daughter has eloped with Emerson."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Don't stand there saying, 'What!' Pack."
+
+Ashe put his hand in his pocket.
+
+"Where shall I put this?" he asked.
+
+For a moment Mr. Peters looked without comprehension at what Ashe
+was holding out; then his whole demeanor altered. His eyes lit
+up. He uttered a howl of pure rapture:
+
+"You got it!"
+
+"I got it."
+
+"Where was it? Who took it? How did you choke it out of them?
+How did you find it? Who had it?"
+
+"I don't know whether I ought to say. I don't want to start
+anything. You won't tell anyone?"
+
+"Tell anyone! What do you take me for? Do you think I am going
+about advertising this? If I can sneak out without that fellow
+Baxter jumping on my back I shall be satisfied. You can take it
+from me that there won't be any sensational exposures if I can
+help it. Who had it?"
+
+"Young Threepwood."
+
+"Threepwood? Why did he want it?"
+
+"He needed money and he was going to raise it on--"
+
+Mr. Peters exploded.
+
+"And I have been kicking because Aline can't marry him and has
+gone off with a regular fellow like young Emerson! He's a good
+boy--young Emerson. I knew his folks. He'll make a name for
+himself one of these days. He's got get-up in him. And I have
+been waiting to shoot him because he has taken Aline away from
+that goggle-eyed chump up in bed there!
+
+"Why, if she had married Threepwood I should have had
+grandchildren who would have sneaked my watch while I was dancing
+them on my knee! There is a taint of some sort in the whole
+family. Father sneaks my Cheops and sonny sneaks it from father.
+What a gang! And the best blood in England! If that's England's
+idea of good blood give me Hoboken! This settles it. I was a
+chump ever to come to a country like this. Property isn't safe
+here. I'm going back to America on the next boat.
+
+"Where's my check book? I'm going to write you that check right
+away. You've earned it. Listen, young man; I don't know what your
+ideas are, but if you aren't chained to this country I'll make it
+worth your while to stay on with me. They say no one's
+indispensable, but you come mighty near it. If I had you at my
+elbow for a few years I'd get right back into shape. I'm feeling
+better now than I have felt in years--and you've only just
+started in on me.
+
+"How about it? You can call yourself what you like--secretary or
+trainer, or whatever suits you best. What you will be is the
+fellow who makes me take exercise and stop smoking cigars, and
+generally looks after me. How do you feel about it?"
+
+It was a proposition that appealed both to Ashe's commercial and
+to his missionary instincts. His only regret had been that, the
+scarab recovered, he and Mr. Peters would now, he supposed, part
+company. He had not liked the idea of sending the millionaire
+back to the world a half-cured man. Already he had begun to look
+on him in the light of a piece of creative work to which he had
+just set his hand.
+
+But the thought of Joan gave him pause. If this meant separation
+from Joan it was not to be considered.
+
+"Let me think it over," he said.
+
+"Well, think quick!" said Mr. Peters.
+
+                        *   *   *
+
+It has been said by those who have been through fires,
+earthquakes and shipwrecks that in such times of stress the
+social barriers are temporarily broken down, and the spectacle
+may be seen of persons of the highest social standing speaking
+quite freely to persons who are not in society at all; and of
+quite nice people addressing others to whom they have never been
+introduced. The news of Aline Peters' elopement with George
+Emerson, carried beyond the green-baize door by Slingsby, the
+chauffeur, produced very much the same state of affairs in the
+servants' quarters at Blandings Castle.
+
+It was not only that Slingsby was permitted to penetrate into the
+housekeeper's room and tell his story to his social superiors
+there, though that was an absolutely unprecedented occurrence;
+what was really extraordinary was that mere menials discussed the
+affair with the personal ladies and gentlemen of the castle
+guests, and were allowed to do so uncrushed. James, the
+footman--that pushing individual--actually shoved his way into
+the room, and was heard by witnesses to remark to no less a
+person than Mr. Beach that it was a bit thick.
+
+And it is on record that his fellow footman, Alfred, meeting the
+groom of the chambers in the passage outside, positively prodded
+him in the lower ribs, winked, and said: "What a day we're
+having!" One has to go back to the worst excesses of the French
+Revolution to parallel these outrages. It was held by Mr. Beach
+and Mrs. Twemlow afterward that the social fabric of the castle
+never fully recovered from this upheaval. It may be they took an
+extreme view of the matter, but it cannot be denied that it
+wrought changes. The rise of Slingsby is a case in point. Until
+this affair took place the chauffeur's standing had never been
+satisfactorily settled. Mr. Beach and Mrs. Twemlow led the party
+which considered that he was merely a species of coachman; but
+there was a smaller group which, dazzled by Slingsby's
+personality, openly declared it was not right that he should take
+his meals in the servants' hall with such admitted plebeians as
+the odd man and the steward's-room footman.
+
+The Aline-George elopement settled the point once and for all.
+Slingsby had carried George's bag to the train. Slingsby had been
+standing a few yards from the spot where Aline began her dash for
+the carriage door. Slingsby was able to exhibit the actual half
+sovereign with which George had tipped him only five minutes
+before the great event. To send such a public man back to the
+servants' hall was impossible. By unspoken consent the chauffeur
+dined that night in the steward's room, from which he was never
+dislodged.
+
+Mr. Judson alone stood apart from the throng that clustered about
+the chauffeur. He was suffering the bitterness of the supplanted.
+A brief while before and he had been the central figure, with his
+story of the letter he had found in the Honorable Freddie's coat
+pocket. Now the importance of his story had been engulfed in that
+of this later and greater sensation, Mr. Judson was learning, for
+the first time, on what unstable foundations popularity stands.
+
+Joan was nowhere to be seen. In none of the spots where she might
+have been expected to be at such a time was she to be found. Ashe
+had almost given up the search when, going to the back door and
+looking out as a last chance, he perceived her walking slowly on
+the gravel drive.
+
+She greeted Ashe with a smile, but something was plainly
+troubling her. She did not speak for a moment and they walked
+side by side.
+
+"What is it?" said Ashe at length. "What is the matter?"
+
+She looked at him gravely.
+
+"Gloom," she said. "Despondency, Mr. Marson--A sort of flat
+feeling. Don't you hate things happening?"
+
+"I don't quite understand."
+
+"Well, this affair of Aline, for instance. It's so big it makes
+one feel as though the whole world had altered. I should like
+nothing to happen ever, and life just to jog peacefully along.
+That's not the gospel I preached to you in Arundell Street, is it!
+I thought I was an advanced apostle of action; but I seem to have
+changed. I'm afraid I shall never be able to make clear what I do
+mean. I only know I feel as though I have suddenly grown old.
+These things are such milestones. Already I am beginning to look
+on the time before Aline behaved so sensationally as terribly
+remote. To-morrow it will be worse, and the day after that worse
+still. I can see that you don't in the least understand what I
+mean."
+
+"Yes; I do--or I think I do. What it comes to, in a few words, is
+that somebody you were fond of has gone out of your life. Is that
+it?"
+
+Joan nodded.
+
+"Yes--at least, that is partly it. I didn't really know Aline
+particularly well, beyond having been at school with her, but
+you're right. It's not so much what has happened as what it
+represents that matters. This elopement has marked the end of a
+phase of my life. I think I have it now. My life has been such a
+series of jerks. I dash along--then something happens which stops
+that bit of my life with a jerk; and then I have to start over
+again--a new bit. I think I'm getting tired of jerks. I want
+something stodgy and continuous.
+
+"I'm like one of the old bus horses that could go on forever if
+people got off without making them stop. It's the having to get
+the bus moving again that wears one out. This little section of
+my life since we came here is over, and it is finished for good.
+I've got to start the bus going again on a new road and with a
+new set of passengers. I wonder whether the old horses used to be
+sorry when they dropped one lot of passengers and took on a lot
+of strangers?"
+
+A sudden dryness invaded Ashe's throat. He tried to speak, but
+found no words. Joan went on:
+
+"Do you ever get moods when life seems absolutely meaningless?
+It's like a badly-constructed story, with all sorts of characters
+moving in and out who have nothing to do with the plot. And when
+somebody comes along that you think really has something to do
+with the plot, he suddenly drops out. After a while you begin to
+wonder what the story is about, and you feel that it's about
+nothing--just a jumble."
+
+"There is one thing," said Ashe, "that knits it together."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"The love interest."
+
+Their eyes met and suddenly there descended on Ashe confidence.
+He felt cool and alert, sure of himself, as in the old days he
+had felt when he ran races and, the nerve-racking hours of
+waiting past, he listened for the starter's gun. Subconsciously
+he was aware he had always been a little afraid of Joan, and that
+now he was no longer afraid.
+
+"Joan, will you marry me?"
+
+Her eyes wandered from his face. He waited.
+
+"I wonder!" she said softly. "You think that is the solution?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How can you tell?" she broke out. "We scarcely know each other.
+I shan't always be in this mood. I may get restless again. I may
+find it is the jerks that I really like."
+
+"You won't!"
+
+"You're very confident."
+
+"I am absolutely confident."
+
+"'She travels fastest who travels alone,'" misquoted Joan.
+
+"What is the good," said Ashe, "of traveling fast if you're going
+round in a circle? I know how you feel. I've felt the same
+myself. You are an individualist. You think there is something
+tremendous just round the corner and that you can get it if you
+try hard enough. There isn't--or if there is it isn't worth
+getting. Life is nothing but a mutual aid association. I am going
+to help old Peters--you are going to help me--I am going to help
+you."
+
+"Help me to do what?"
+
+"Make life coherent instead of a jumble."
+
+"Mr. Marson---"
+
+"Don't call me Mr. Marson."
+
+"Ashe, you don't know what you are doing. You don't know me.
+I've been knocking about the world for five years and I'm
+hard--hard right through. I should make you wretched."
+
+"You are not in the least hard--and you know it. Listen to me,
+Joan. Where's your sense of fairness? You crash into my life,
+turn it upside down, dig me out of my quiet groove, revolutionize
+my whole existence; and now you propose to drop me and pay no
+further attention to me. Is it fair?"
+
+"But I don't. We shall always be the best of friends."
+
+"We shall--but we will get married first."
+
+"You are determined?"
+
+"I am!"
+
+Joan laughed happily.
+
+"How perfectly splendid! I was terrified lest I might have made
+you change your mind. I had to say all I did to preserve my
+self-respect after proposing to you. Yes; I did. How strange it
+is that men never seem to understand a woman, however plainly she
+talks! You don't think I was really worrying because I had lost
+Aline, do you? I thought I was going to lose you, and it made me
+miserable. You couldn't expect me to say it in so many words; but
+I thought--I was hoping--you guessed. I practically said it.
+Ashe! What are you doing?"
+
+Ashe paused for a moment to reply.
+
+"I am kissing you," he said.
+
+"But you mustn't! There's a scullery maid or somebody looking
+through the kitchen window. She will see us."
+
+Ashe drew her to him.
+
+"Scullery maids have few pleasures," he said. "Theirs is a dull
+life. Let her see us."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+The Earl of Emsworth sat by the sick bed and regarded the
+Honorable Freddie almost tenderly.
+
+"I fear, Freddie, my dear boy, this has been a great shock to
+you."
+
+"Eh? What? Yes--rather! Deuce of a shock, gov'nor."
+
+"I have been thinking it over, my boy, and perhaps I have been a
+little hard on you. When your ankle is better I have decided to
+renew your allowance; and you may return to London, as you do not
+seem happy in the country. Though how any reasonable being can
+prefer--"
+
+The Honorable Freddie started, pop-eyed, to a sitting posture.
+
+"My word! Not really?"
+
+His father nodded.
+
+"I say, gov'nor, you really are a topper! You really are, you
+know! I know just how you feel about the country and the jolly
+old birds and trees and chasing the bally slugs off the young
+geraniums and all that sort of thing, but somehow it's never
+quite hit me the same way. It's the way I'm built, I suppose. I
+like asphalt streets and crowds and dodging taxis and meeting
+chappies at the club and popping in at the Empire for half an
+hour and so forth. And there's something about having an
+allowance--I don't know . . . sort of makes you chuck your chest
+out and feel you're someone. I don't know how to thank you,
+gov'nor! You're--you're an absolute sportsman! This is the most
+priceless bit of work you've ever done. I feel like a
+two-year-old. I don't know when I've felt so braced.
+I--I--really, you know, gov'nor, I'm most awfully grateful."
+
+"Exactly," said Lord Emsworth. "Ah--precisely. But, Freddie, my
+boy," he added, not without pathos, "there is just one thing
+more. Do you think that--with an effort--for my sake--you could
+endeavor this time not to make a--a damned fool of yourself?"
+
+He eyed his offspring wistfully.
+
+"Gov'nor," said the Honorable Freddie firmly, "I'll have a jolly
+good stab at it!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Something New, by P. G. Wodehouse
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