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diff --git a/old/8176-8.txt b/old/8176-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 88e3372..0000000 --- a/old/8176-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5405 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Death at the Excelsior, 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: Death at the Excelsior - -Author: P. G. Wodehouse - -Posting Date: August 27, 2012 [EBook #8176] -Release Date: May, 2005 -First Posted: June 26, 2003 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH AT THE EXCELSIOR *** - - - - -Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks, and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team - - - - - - - - - - - -DEATH AT THE EXCELSIOR - -and Other Stories - -By P. G. Wodehouse - - - - - - -[Transcriber's note: This selection of early Wodehouse stories was -assembled for Project Gutenberg. The original publication date of -each story is listed in square brackets in the Table of Contents.] - - - - -CONTENTS - - -DEATH AT THE EXCELSIOR [1914] - -MISUNDERSTOOD [1910] - -THE BEST SAUCE [1911] - -JEEVES AND THE CHUMP CYRIL [1918] - -JEEVES IN THE SPRINGTIME [1921] - -CONCEALED ART [1915] - -THE TEST CASE [1915] - - - - - -DEATH AT THE EXCELSIOR - - -I - -The room was the typical bedroom of the typical boarding-house, -furnished, insofar as it could be said to be furnished at all, with a -severe simplicity. It contained two beds, a pine chest of drawers, a -strip of faded carpet, and a wash basin. But there was that on the -floor which set this room apart from a thousand rooms of the same kind. -Flat on his back, with his hands tightly clenched and one leg twisted -oddly under him and with his teeth gleaming through his grey beard in a -horrible grin, Captain John Gunner stared up at the ceiling with eyes -that saw nothing. - -Until a moment before, he had had the little room all to himself. But -now two people were standing just inside the door, looking down at him. -One was a large policeman, who twisted his helmet nervously in his -hands. The other was a tall, gaunt old woman in a rusty black dress, -who gazed with pale eyes at the dead man. Her face was quite -expressionless. - -The woman was Mrs. Pickett, owner of the Excelsior Boarding-House. The -policeman's name was Grogan. He was a genial giant, a terror to the -riotous element of the waterfront, but obviously ill at ease in the -presence of death. He drew in his breath, wiped his forehead, and -whispered: "Look at his eyes, ma'am!" - -Mrs. Pickett had not spoken a word since she had brought the policeman -into the room, and she did not do so now. Constable Grogan looked at -her quickly. He was afraid of Mother Pickett, as was everybody else -along the waterfront. Her silence, her pale eyes, and the quiet -decisiveness of her personality cowed even the tough old salts who -patronized the Excelsior. She was a formidable influence in that little -community of sailormen. - -"That's just how I found him," said Mrs. Pickett. She did not speak -loudly, but her voice made the policeman start. - -He wiped his forehead again. "It might have been apoplexy," he -hazarded. - -Mrs. Pickett said nothing. There was a sound of footsteps outside, and -a young man entered, carrying a black bag. - -"Good morning, Mrs. Pickett. I was told that--Good Lord!" The young -doctor dropped to his knees beside the body and raised one of the arms. -After a moment he lowered it gently to the floor, and shook his head in -grim resignation. - -"He's been dead for hours," he announced. "When did you find him?" - -"Twenty minutes back," replied the old woman. "I guess he died last -night. He never would be called in the morning. Said he liked to sleep -on. Well, he's got his wish." - -"What did he die of, sir?" asked the policeman. - -"It's impossible to say without an examination," the doctor answered. -"It looks like a stroke, but I'm pretty sure it isn't. It might be a -coronary attack, but I happen to know his blood pressure was normal, -and his heart sound. He called in to see me only a week ago, and I -examined him thoroughly. But sometimes you can be deceived. The inquest -will tell us." He eyed the body almost resentfully. "I can't understand -it. The man had no right to drop dead like this. He was a tough old -sailor who ought to have been good for another twenty years. If you -want my honest opinion--though I can't possibly be certain until after -the inquest--I should say he had been poisoned." - -"How would he be poisoned?" asked Mrs. Pickett quietly. - -"That's more than I can tell you. There's no glass about that he could -have drunk it from. He might have got it in capsule form. But why -should he have done it? He was always a pretty cheerful sort of old -man, wasn't he?" - -"Yes, sir," said the Constable. "He had the name of being a joker in -these parts. Kind of sarcastic, they tell me, though he never tried it -on me." - -"He must have died quite early last night," said the doctor. He turned -to Mrs. Pickett. "What's become of Captain Muller? If he shares this -room he ought to be able to tell us something about it." - -"Captain Muller spent the night with some friends at Portsmouth," said -Mrs. Pickett. "He left right after supper, and hasn't returned." - -The doctor stared thoughtfully about the room, frowning. - -"I don't like it. I can't understand it. If this had happened in India -I should have said the man had died from some form of snakebite. I was -out there two years, and I've seen a hundred cases of it. The poor -devils all looked just like this. But the thing's ridiculous. How could -a man be bitten by a snake in a Southampton waterfront boarding-house? -Was the door locked when you found him, Mrs. Pickett?" - -Mrs. Pickett nodded. "I opened it with my own key. I had been calling -to him and he didn't answer, so I guessed something was wrong." - -The Constable spoke: "You ain't touched anything, ma'am? They're always -very particular about that. If the doctor's right, and there's been -anything up, that's the first thing they'll ask." - -"Everything's just as I found it." - -"What's that on the floor beside him?" the doctor asked. - -"Only his harmonica. He liked to play it of an evening in his room. -I've had some complaints about it from some of the gentlemen, but I -never saw any harm, so long as he didn't play it too late." - -"Seems as if he was playing it when--it happened," Constable Grogan -said. "That don't look much like suicide, sir." - -"I didn't say it was suicide." - -Grogan whistled. "You don't think----" - -"I'm not thinking anything--until after the inquest. All I say is that -it's queer." - -Another aspect of the matter seemed to strike the policeman. "I guess -this ain't going to do the Excelsior any good, ma'am," he said -sympathetically. - -Mrs. Pickett shrugged her shoulders. - -"I suppose I had better go and notify the coroner," said the doctor. - -He went out, and after a momentary pause the policeman followed him. -Constable Grogan was not greatly troubled with nerves, but he felt a -decided desire to be somewhere where he could not see the dead man's -staring eyes. - -Mrs. Pickett remained where she was, looking down at the still form on -the floor. Her face was expressionless, but inwardly she was tormented -and alarmed. It was the first time such a thing as this had happened at -the Excelsior, and, as Constable Grogan had hinted, it was not likely -to increase the attractiveness of the house in the eyes of possible -boarders. It was not the threatened pecuniary loss which was troubling -her. As far as money was concerned, she could have lived comfortably on -her savings, for she was richer than most of her friends supposed. It -was the blot on the escutcheon of the Excelsior--the stain on its -reputation--which was tormenting her. - -The Excelsior was her life. Starting many years before, beyond the -memory of the oldest boarder, she had built up the model establishment, -the fame of which had been carried to every corner of the world. Men -spoke of it as a place where you were fed well, cleanly housed, and -where petty robbery was unknown. - -Such was the chorus of praise that it is not likely that much harm -could come to the Excelsior from a single mysterious death but Mother -Pickett was not consoling herself with such reflections. - -She looked at the dead man with pale, grim eyes. Out in the hallway the -doctor's voice further increased her despair. He was talking to the -police on the telephone, and she could distinctly hear his every word. - - -II - -The offices of Mr. Paul Snyder's Detective Agency in New Oxford Street -had grown in the course of a dozen years from a single room to an -impressive suite bright with polished wood, clicking typewriters, and -other evidences of success. Where once Mr. Snyder had sat and waited -for clients and attended to them himself, he now sat in his private -office and directed eight assistants. - -He had just accepted a case--a case that might be nothing at all or -something exceedingly big. It was on the latter possibility that he had -gambled. The fee offered was, judged by his present standards of -prosperity, small. But the bizarre facts, coupled with something in the -personality of the client, had won him over. He briskly touched the -bell and requested that Mr. Oakes should be sent in to him. - -Elliot Oakes was a young man who both amused and interested Mr. Snyder, -for though he had only recently joined the staff, he made no secret of -his intention of revolutionizing the methods of the agency. Mr. Snyder -himself, in common with most of his assistants, relied for results on -hard work and plenty of common sense. He had never been a detective of -the showy type. Results had justified his methods, but he was perfectly -aware that young Mr. Oakes looked on him as a dull old man who had been -miraculously favored by luck. - -Mr. Snyder had selected Oakes for the case in hand principally because -it was one where inexperience could do no harm, and where the brilliant -guesswork which Oakes preferred to call his inductive reasoning might -achieve an unexpected success. - -Another motive actuated Mr. Snyder in his choice. He had a strong -suspicion that the conduct of this case was going to have the -beneficial result of lowering Oakes' self-esteem. If failure achieved -this end, Mr. Snyder felt that failure, though it would not help the -Agency, would not be an unmixed ill. - -The door opened and Oakes entered tensely. He did everything tensely, -partly from a natural nervous energy, and partly as a pose. He was a -lean young man, with dark eyes and a thin-lipped mouth, and he looked -quite as much like a typical detective as Mr. Snyder looked like a -comfortable and prosperous stock broker. - -"Sit down, Oakes," said Mr. Snyder. "I've got a job for you." - -Oakes sank into a chair like a crouching leopard, and placed the tips -of his fingers together. He nodded curtly. It was part of his pose to -be keen and silent. - -"I want you to go to this address"--Mr. Snyder handed him an -envelope--"and look around. The address on that envelope is of a -sailors' boarding-house down in Southampton. You know the sort of -place--retired sea captains and so on live there. All most respectable. -In all its history nothing more sensational has ever happened than a -case of suspected cheating at halfpenny nap. Well, a man had died -there." - -"Murdered?" Oakes asked. - -"I don't know. That's for you to find out. The coroner left it open. -'Death by Misadventure' was the verdict, and I don't blame him. I don't -see how it could have been murder. The door was locked on the inside, -so nobody could have got in." - -"The window?" - -"The window was open, granted. But the room is on the second floor. -Anyway, you may dismiss the window. I remember the old lady saying -there was a bar across it, and that nobody could have squeezed -through." - -Oakes' eyes glistened. He was interested. "What was the cause of -death?" he asked. - -Mr. Snyder coughed. "Snake bite," he said. - -Oakes' careful calm deserted him. He uttered a cry of astonishment. -"Why, that's incredible!" - -"It's the literal truth. The medical examination proved that the fellow -had been killed by snake poison--cobra, to be exact, which is found -principally in India." - -"Cobra!" - -"Just so. In a Southampton boarding-house, in a room with a locked -door, this man was stung by a cobra. To add a little mystification to -the limpid simplicity of the affair, when the door was opened there was -no sign of any cobra. It couldn't have got out through the door, -because the door was locked. It couldn't have got out of the window, -because the window was too high up, and snakes can't jump. And it -couldn't have gotten up the chimney, because there was no chimney. So -there you have it." - -He looked at Oakes with a certain quiet satisfaction. It had come to -his ears that Oakes had been heard to complain of the infantile nature -and unworthiness of the last two cases to which he had been assigned. -He had even said that he hoped some day to be given a problem which -should be beyond the reasoning powers of a child of six. It seemed to -Mr. Snyder that Oakes was about to get his wish. - -"I should like further details," said Oakes, a little breathlessly. - -"You had better apply to Mrs. Pickett, who owns the boarding-house," -Mr. Snyder said. "It was she who put the case in my hands. She is -convinced that it is murder. But, if we exclude ghosts, I don't see how -any third party could have taken a hand in the thing at all. However, -she wanted a man from this agency, and was prepared to pay for him, so -I promised her I would send one. It is not our policy to turn business -away." - -He smiled wryly. "In pursuance of that policy I want you to go and put -up at Mrs. Pickett's boarding house and do your best to enhance the -reputation of our agency. I would suggest that you pose as a ship's -chandler or something of that sort. You will have to be something -maritime or they'll be suspicious of you. And if your visit produces no -other results, it will, at least, enable you to make the acquaintance -of a very remarkable woman. I commend Mrs. Pickett to your notice. By -the way, she says she will help you in your investigations." - -Oakes laughed shortly. The idea amused him. - -"It's a mistake to scoff at amateur assistance, my boy," said Mr. -Snyder in the benevolently paternal manner which had made a score of -criminals refuse to believe him a detective until the moment when the -handcuffs snapped on their wrists. "Crime investigation isn't an exact -science. Success or failure depends in a large measure on applied -common sense, and the possession of a great deal of special -information. Mrs. Pickett knows certain things which neither you nor I -know, and it's just possible that she may have some stray piece of -information which will provide the key to the entire mystery." - -Oakes laughed again. "It is very kind of Mrs. Pickett," he said, "but I -prefer to trust to my own methods." Oakes rose, his face purposeful. -"I'd better be starting at once," he said. "I'll send you reports from -time to time." - -"Good. The more detailed the better," said Mr. Snyder genially. "I hope -your visit to the Excelsior will be pleasant. And cultivate Mrs. -Pickett. She's worth while." - -The door closed, and Mr. Snyder lighted a fresh cigar. "Dashed young -fool," he murmured, as he turned his mind to other matters. - - -III - -A day later Mr. Snyder sat in his office reading a typewritten report. -It appeared to be of a humorous nature, for, as he read, chuckles -escaped him. Finishing the last sheet he threw his head back and -laughed heartily. The manuscript had not been intended by its author -for a humorous effort. What Mr. Snyder had been reading was the first -of Elliott Oakes' reports from the Excelsior. It read as follows: - - I am sorry to be unable to report any real progress. I have - formed several theories which I will put forward later, but at - present I cannot say that I am hopeful. - - Directly I arrived here I sought out Mrs. Pickett, explained - who I was, and requested her to furnish me with any further - information which might be of service to me. She is a strange, - silent woman, who impressed me as having very little - intelligence. Your suggestion that I should avail myself of - her assistance seems more curious than ever, now that I have - seen her. - - The whole affair seems to me at the moment of writing quite - inexplicable. Assuming that this Captain Gunner was murdered, - there appears to have been no motive for the crime whatsoever. - I have made careful inquiries about him, and find that he was - a man of fifty-five; had spent nearly forty years of his life - at sea, the last dozen in command of his own ship; was of a - somewhat overbearing disposition, though with a fund of rough - humour; had travelled all over the world, and had been an inmate - of the Excelsior for about ten months. He had a small annuity, - and no other money at all, which disposes of money as the motive - for the crime. - - In my character of James Burton, a retired ship's chandler, I have - mixed with the other boarders, and have heard all they have to say - about the affair. I gather that the deceased was by no means - popular. He appears to have had a bitter tongue, and I have not - met one man who seems to regret his death. On the other hand, I - have heard nothing which would suggest that he had any active and - violent enemies. He was simply the unpopular boarder--there is - always one in every boarding-house--but nothing more. - - I have seen a good deal of the man who shared his room--another - sea captain, named Muller. He is a big, silent person, and it is - not easy to get him to talk. As regards the death of Captain Gunner - he can tell me nothing. It seems that on the night of the tragedy - he was away at Portsmouth with some friends. All I have got from - him is some information as to Captain Gunner's habits, which leads - nowhere. The dead man seldom drank, except at night when he would - take some whisky. His head was not strong, and a little of the - spirit was enough to make him semi-intoxicated, when he would be - hilarious and often insulting. I gather that Muller found him a - difficult roommate, but he is one of those placid persons who can - put up with anything. He and Gunner were in the habit of playing - draughts together every night in their room, and Gunner had a - harmonica which he played frequently. Apparently, he was playing - it very soon before he died, which is significant, as seeming to - dispose of the idea of suicide. - - As I say, I have one or two theories, but they are in a very - nebulous state. The most plausible is that on one of his visits - to India--I have ascertained that he made several voyages - there--Captain Gunner may in some way have fallen foul of - the natives. The fact that he certainly died of the poison of an - Indian snake supports this theory. I am making inquiries as to - the movements of several Indian sailors who were here in - their ships at the time of the tragedy. - - I have another theory. Does Mrs. Pickett know more about - this affair than she appears to? I may be wrong in my estimate - of her mental qualities. Her apparent stupidity may be - cunning. But here again, the absence of motive brings me up - against a dead wall. I must confess that at present I do not see - my way clearly. However, I will write again shortly. - -Mr. Snyder derived the utmost enjoyment from the report. He liked the -substance of it, and above all, he was tickled by the bitter tone of -frustration which characterized it. Oakes was baffled, and his knowledge -of Oakes told him that the sensation of being baffled was gall and -wormwood to that high-spirited young man. Whatever might be the result -of this investigation, it would teach him the virtue of patience. - -He wrote his assistant a short note: - - Dear Oakes, - - Your report received. You certainly seem to have got the hard - case which, I hear, you were pining for. Don't build too much - on plausible motives in a case of this sort. Fauntleroy, the - London murderer, killed a woman for no other reason than that - she had thick ankles. Many years ago, I myself was on a case - where a man murdered an intimate friend because of a dispute - about a bet. My experience is that five murderers out of ten - act on the whim of the moment, without anything which, properly - speaking, you could call a motive at all. - - Yours very cordially, - Paul Snyder - - P. S. I don't think much of your Pickett theory. However, you're - in charge. I wish you luck. - - -IV - -Young Mr. Oakes was not enjoying himself. For the first time in his -life, the self-confidence which characterized all his actions seemed to -be failing him. The change had taken place almost overnight. The fact -that the case had the appearance of presenting the unusual had merely -stimulated him at first. But then doubts had crept in and the problem -had begun to appear insoluble. - -True, he had only just taken it up, but something told him that, for -all the progress he was likely to make, he might just as well have been -working on it steadily for a month. He was completely baffled. And -every moment which he spent in the Excelsior Boarding-House made it -clearer to him that that infernal old woman with the pale eyes thought -him an incompetent fool. It was that, more than anything, which made -him acutely conscious of his lack of success. His nerves were being -sorely troubled by the quiet scorn of Mrs. Pickett's gaze. He began to -think that perhaps he had been a shade too self-confident and abrupt in -the short interview which he had had with her on his arrival. - -As might have been expected, his first act, after his brief interview -with Mrs. Pickett, was to examine the room where the tragedy had taken -place. The body was gone, but otherwise nothing had been moved. - -Oakes belonged to the magnifying-glass school of detection. The first -thing he did on entering the room was to make a careful examination of -the floor, the walls, the furniture, and the windowsill. He would have -hotly denied the assertion that he did this because it looked well, but -he would have been hard put to it to advance any other reason. - -If he discovered anything, his discoveries were entirely negative, and -served only to deepen the mystery of the case. As Mr. Snyder had said, -there was no chimney, and nobody could have entered through the locked -door. - -There remained the window. It was small, and apprehensiveness, perhaps, -of the possibility of burglars, had caused the proprietress to make it -doubly secure with an iron bar. No human being could have squeezed his -way through it. - -It was late that night that he wrote and dispatched to headquarters the -report which had amused Mr. Snyder. - - -V - -Two days later Mr. Snyder sat at his desk, staring with wide, unbelieving -eyes at a telegram he had just received. It read as follows: - - HAVE SOLVED GUNNER MYSTERY. RETURNING.... OAKES. - -Mr. Snyder narrowed his eyes and rang the bell. "Send Mr. Oakes to me -directly he arrives," he said. - -He was pained to find that his chief emotion was one of bitter -annoyance. The swift solution of such an apparently insoluble problem -would reflect the highest credit on the Agency, and there were -picturesque circumstances connected with the case which would make it -popular with the newspapers and lead to its being given a great deal of -publicity. - -Yet, in spite of all this, Mr. Snyder was annoyed. He realized now how -large a part the desire to reduce Oakes' self-esteem had played with -him. He further realized, looking at the thing honestly, that he had -been firmly convinced that the young man would not come within a mile -of a reasonable solution of the mystery. He had desired only that his -failure would prove a valuable educational experience for him. For he -believed that failure at this particular point in his career would make -Oakes a more valuable asset to the Agency. But now here Oakes was, -within a ridiculously short space of time, returning to the fold, not -humble and defeated, but triumphant. Mr. Snyder looked forward with -apprehension to the young man's probable demeanor under the -intoxicating influence of victory. - -His apprehensions were well grounded. He had barely finished the third -of the series of cigars, which, like milestones, marked the progress of -his afternoon, when the door opened and young Oakes entered. Mr. Snyder -could not repress a faint moan at the sight of him. One glance was -enough to tell him that his worst fears were realised. - -"I got your telegram," said Mr. Snyder. - -Oakes nodded. "It surprised you, eh?" he asked. - -Mr. Snyder resented the patronizing tone of the question, but he had -resigned himself to be patronized, and keep his anger in check. - -"Yes," he replied, "I must say it did surprise me. I didn't gather from -your report that you had even found a clue. Was it the Indian theory -that turned the trick?" - -Oakes laughed tolerantly. "Oh, I never really believed that -preposterous theory for one moment. I just put it in to round out my -report. I hadn't begun to think about the case then--not really think." - -Mr. Snyder, nearly exploding with wrath, extended his cigar-case. -"Light up, and tell me all about it," he said, controlling his anger. - -"Well, I won't say I haven't earned this," said Oakes, puffing away. He -let the ash of his cigar fall delicately to the floor--another action -which seemed significant to his employer. As a rule, his assistants, -unless particularly pleased with themselves, used the ashtray. - -"My first act on arriving," Oakes said, "was to have a talk with Mrs. -Pickett. A very dull old woman." - -"Curious. She struck me as rather intelligent." - -"Not on your life. She gave me no assistance whatever. I then examined -the room where the death had taken place. It was exactly as you described -it. There was no chimney, the door had been locked on the inside, and -the one window was very high up. At first sight, it looked extremely -unpromising. Then I had a chat with some of the other boarders. They had -nothing of any importance to contribute. Most of them simply gibbered. -I then gave up trying to get help from the outside, and resolved to rely -on my own intelligence." - -He smiled triumphantly. "It is a theory of mine, Mr. Snyder, which I -have found valuable that, in nine cases out of ten, remarkable things -don't happen." - -"I don't quite follow you there," Mr. Snyder interrupted. - -"I will put it another way, if you like. What I mean is that the simplest -explanation is nearly always the right one. Consider this case. It seemed -impossible that there should have been any reasonable explanation of the -man's death. Most men would have worn themselves out guessing at wild -theories. If I had started to do that, I should have been guessing now. -As it is--here I am. I trusted to my belief that nothing remarkable ever -happens, and I won out." - -Mr. Snyder sighed softly. Oakes was entitled to a certain amount of -gloating, but there could be no doubt that his way of telling a story -was downright infuriating. - -"I believe in the logical sequence of events. I refuse to accept -effects unless they are preceded by causes. In other words, with all -due respect to your possibly contrary opinions, Mr. Snyder, I simply -decline to believe in a murder unless there was a motive for it. The -first thing I set myself to ascertain was--what was the motive for the -murder of Captain Gunner? And, after thinking it over and making every -possible inquiry, I decided that there was no motive. Therefore, there -was no murder." - -Mr. Snyder's mouth opened, and he obviously was about to protest. But -he appeared to think better of it and Oakes proceeded: "I then tested -the suicide theory. What motive was there for suicide? There was no -motive. Therefore, there was no suicide." - -This time Mr. Snyder spoke. "You haven't been spending the last few -days in the wrong house by any chance, have you? You will be telling me -next that there wasn't any dead man." - -Oakes smiled. "Not at all. Captain John Gunner was dead, all right. As -the medical evidence proved, he died of the bite of a cobra. It was a -small cobra which came from Java." - -Mr. Snyder stared at him. "How do you know?" - -"I do know, beyond any possibility of doubt." - -"Did you see the snake?" - -Oakes shook his head. - -"Then, how in heaven's name----" - -"I have enough evidence to make a jury convict Mr. Snake without -leaving the box." - -"Then suppose you tell me this. How did your cobra from Java get out of -the room?" - -"By the window," replied Oakes, impassively. - -"How can you possibly explain that? You say yourself that the window -was high up." - -"Nevertheless, it got out by the window. The logical sequence of events -is proof enough that it was in the room. It killed Captain Gunner -there, and left traces of its presence outside. Therefore, as the -window was the only exit, it must have escaped by that route. It may -have climbed or it may have jumped, but somehow it got out of that -window." - -"What do you mean--it left traces of its presence outside?" - -"It killed a dog in the backyard behind the house," Oakes said. "The -window of Captain Gunner's room projects out over it. It is full of -boxes and litter and there are a few stunted shrubs scattered about. In -fact, there is enough cover to hide any small object like the body of a -dog. That's why it was not discovered at first. The maid at the -Excelsior came on it the morning after I sent you my report while she -was emptying a box of ashes in the yard. It was just an ordinary stray -dog without collar or license. The analyst examined the body, and found -that the dog had died of the bite of a cobra." - -"But you didn't find the snake?" - -"No. We cleaned out that yard till you could have eaten your breakfast -there, but the snake had gone. It must have escaped through the door of -the yard, which was standing ajar. That was a couple of days ago, and -there has been no further tragedy. In all likelihood it is dead. The -nights are pretty cold now, and it would probably have died of -exposure." - -"But, I just don't understand how a cobra got to Southampton," said the -amazed Mr. Snyder. - -"Can't you guess it? I told you it came from Java." - -"How did you know it did?" - -"Captain Muller told me. Not directly, but I pieced it together from -what he said. It seems that an old shipmate of Captain Gunner's was -living in Java. They corresponded, and occasionally this man would send -the captain a present as a mark of his esteem. The last present he sent -was a crate of bananas. Unfortunately, the snake must have got in -unnoticed. That's why I told you the cobra was a small one. Well, -that's my case against Mr. Snake, and short of catching him with the -goods, I don't see how I could have made out a stronger one. Don't you -agree?" - -It went against the grain for Mr. Snyder to acknowledge defeat, but he -was a fair-minded man, and he was forced to admit that Oakes did -certainly seem to have solved the impossible. - -"I congratulate you, my boy," he said as heartily as he could. "To be -completely frank, when you started out, I didn't think you could do it. -By the way, I suppose Mrs. Pickett was pleased?" - -"If she was, she didn't show it. I'm pretty well convinced she hasn't -enough sense to be pleased at anything. However, she has invited me to -dinner with her tonight. I imagine she'll be as boring as usual, but -she made such a point of it, I had to accept." - - -VI - -For some time after Oakes had gone, Mr. Snyder sat smoking and -thinking, in embittered meditation. Suddenly there was brought the card -of Mrs. Pickett, who would be grateful if he could spare her a few -moments. Mr. Snyder was glad to see Mrs. Pickett. He was a student of -character, and she had interested him at their first meeting. There was -something about her which had seemed to him unique, and he welcomed -this second chance of studying her at close range. - -She came in and sat down stiffly, balancing herself on the extreme edge -of the chair in which a short while before young Oakes had lounged so -luxuriously. - -"How are you, Mrs. Pickett?" said Mr. Snyder genially. "I'm very glad -that you could find time to pay me a visit. Well, so it wasn't murder -after all." - -"Sir?" - -"I've just been talking to Mr. Oakes, whom you met as James Burton," -said the detective. "He has told me all about it." - -"He told _me_ all about it," said Mrs. Pickett dryly. - -Mr. Snyder looked at her inquiringly. Her manner seemed more suggestive -than her words. - -"A conceited, headstrong young fool," said Mrs. Pickett. - -It was no new picture of his assistant that she had drawn. Mr. Snyder -had often drawn it himself, but at the present juncture it surprised -him. Oakes, in his hour of triumph, surely did not deserve this -sweeping condemnation. - -"Did not Mr. Oakes' solution of the mystery satisfy you, Mrs. Pickett?" - -"No!" - -"It struck me as logical and convincing," Mr. Snyder said. - -"You may call it all the fancy names you please, Mr. Snyder. But Mr. -Oakes' solution was not the right one." - -"Have you an alternative to offer?" - -Mrs. Pickett tightened her lips. - -"If you have, I should like to hear it." - -"You will--at the proper time." - -"What makes you so certain that Mr. Oakes is wrong?" - -"He starts out with an impossible explanation, and rests his whole case -on it. There couldn't have been a snake in that room because it -couldn't have gotten out. The window was too high." - -"But surely the evidence of the dead dog?" - -Mrs. Pickett looked at him as if he had disappointed her. "I had always -heard _you_ spoken of as a man with common sense, Mr. Snyder." - -"I have always tried to use common sense." - -"Then why are you trying now to make yourself believe that something -happened which could not possibly have happened just because it fits in -with something which isn't easy to explain?" - -"You mean that there is another explanation of the dead dog?" Mr. -Snyder asked. - -"Not _another_. What Mr. Oakes takes for granted is not an -explanation. But there is a common sense explanation, and if he had not -been so headstrong and conceited he might have found it." - -"You speak as if you had found it," chided Mr. Snyder. - -"I have." Mrs. Pickett leaned forward as she spoke, and stared at him -defiantly. - -Mr. Snyder started. "_You_ have?" - -"Yes." - -"What is it?" - -"You will know before tomorrow. In the meantime try and think it out -for yourself. A successful and prosperous detective agency like yours, -Mr. Snyder, ought to do something in return for a fee." - -There was something in her manner so reminiscent of the school teacher -reprimanding a recalcitrant pupil that Mr. Snyder's sense of humor came -to his rescue. "We do our best, Mrs. Pickett," he said. "But you -mustn't forget that we are only human and cannot guarantee results." - -Mrs. Pickett did not pursue the subject. Instead, she proceeded to -astonish Mr. Snyder by asking him to swear out a warrant for the arrest -of a man known to them both on a charge of murder. - -Mr. Snyder's breath was not often taken away in his own office. As a -rule, he received his clients' communications calmly, strange as they -often were. But at her words he gasped. The thought crossed his mind -that Mrs. Pickett might well be mentally unbalanced. The details of the -case were fresh in his memory, and he distinctly recollected that the -person she mentioned had been away from the boarding house on the night -of Captain Gunner's death, and could, he imagined, produce witnesses to -prove it. - -Mrs. Pickett was regarding him with an unfaltering stare. To all -outward appearances, she was the opposite of unbalanced. - -"But you can't swear out a warrant without evidence," he told her. - -"I have evidence," she replied firmly. - -"Precisely what kind of evidence?" he demanded. - -"If I told you now you would think that I was out of my mind." - -"But, Mrs. Pickett, do you realize what you are asking me to do? I -cannot make this agency responsible for the arbitrary arrest of a man -on the strength of a single individual's suspicions. It might ruin me. -At the least it would make me a laughing stock." - -"Mr. Snyder, you may use your own judgment whether or not to make the -arrest on that warrant. You will listen to what I have to say, and you -will see for yourself how the crime was committed. If after that you -feel that you cannot make the arrest I will accept your decision. I -know who killed Captain Gunner," she said. "I knew it from the -beginning. It was like a vision. But I had no proof. Now things have -come to light and everything is clear." - -Against his judgment, Mr. Snyder was impressed. This woman had the -magnetism which makes for persuasiveness. - -"It--it sounds incredible." Even as he spoke, he remembered that it had -long been a professional maxim of his that nothing was incredible, and -he weakened still further. - -"Mr. Snyder, I ask you to swear out that warrant." - -The detective gave in. "Very well," he said. - -Mrs. Pickett rose. "If you will come and dine at my house to-night I -think I can prove to you that it will be needed. Will you come?" - -"I'll come," promised Mr. Snyder. - - -VII - -When Mr. Snyder arrived at the Excelsior and shortly after he was shown -into the little private sitting room where he found Oakes, the third -guest of the evening unexpectedly arrived. - -Mr. Snyder looked curiously at the newcomer. Captain Muller had a -peculiar fascination for him. It was not Mr. Snyder's habit to trust -overmuch to appearances. But he could not help admitting that there was -something about this man's aspect which brought Mrs. Pickett's charges -out of the realm of the fantastic into that of the possible. There was -something odd--an unnatural aspect of gloom--about the man. He bore -himself like one carrying a heavy burden. His eyes were dull, his face -haggard. The next moment the detective was reproaching himself with -allowing his imagination to run away with his calmer judgment. - -The door opened, and Mrs. Pickett came in. She made no apology for her -lateness. - -To Mr. Snyder one of the most remarkable points about the dinner was -the peculiar metamorphosis of Mrs. Pickett from the brooding silent -woman he had known to the gracious and considerate hostess. - -Oakes appeared also to be overcome with surprise, so much so that he -was unable to keep his astonishment to himself. He had come prepared to -endure a dull evening absorbed in grim silence, and he found himself -instead opposite a bottle of champagne of a brand and year which -commanded his utmost respect. What was even more incredible, his -hostess had transformed herself into a pleasant old lady whose only aim -seemed to be to make him feel at home. - -Beside each of the guests' plates was a neat paper parcel. Oakes picked -his up, and stared at it in wonderment. "Why, this is more than a party -souvenir, Mrs. Pickett," he said. "It's the kind of mechanical marvel -I've always wanted to have on my desk." - -"I'm glad you like it, Mr. Oakes," Mrs. Pickett said, smiling. "You -must not think of me simply as a tired old woman whom age has -completely defeated. I am an ambitious hostess. When I give these -little parties, I like to make them a success. I want each of you to -remember this dinner." - -"I'm sure I will." - -Mrs. Pickett smiled again. "I think you all will. You, Mr. Snyder." She -paused. "And you, Captain Muller." - -To Mr. Snyder there was so much meaning in her voice as she said this -that he was amazed that it conveyed no warning to Muller. Captain -Muller, however, was already drinking heavily. He looked up when -addressed and uttered a sound which might have been taken for an -expression of polite acquiescence. Then he filled his glass again. - -Mr. Snyder's parcel revealed a watch-charm fashioned in the shape of a -tiny, candid-eye camera. "That," said Mrs. Pickett, "is a compliment to -your profession." She leaned toward the captain. "Mr. Snyder is a -detective, Captain Muller." - -He looked up. It seemed to Mr. Snyder that a look of fear lit up his -heavy eyes for an instant. It came and went, if indeed it came at all, -so swiftly that he could not be certain. - -"So?" said Captain Muller. He spoke quite evenly, with just the amount -of interest which such an announcement would naturally produce. - -"Now for yours, Captain," said Oakes. "I guess it's something special. -It's twice the size of mine, anyway." - -It may have been something in the old woman's expression as she watched -Captain Muller slowly tearing the paper that sent a thrill of -excitement through Mr. Snyder. Something seemed to warn him of the -approach of a psychological moment. He bent forward eagerly. - -There was a strangled gasp, a thump, and onto the table from the -captain's hands there fell a little harmonica. There was no mistaking -the look on Muller's face now. His cheeks were like wax, and his eyes, -so dull till then, blazed with a panic and horror which he could not -repress. The glasses on the table rocked as he clutched at the cloth. - -Mrs. Pickett spoke. "Why, Captain Muller, has it upset you? I thought -that, as his best friend, the man who shared his room, you would value -a memento of Captain Gunner. How fond you must have been of him for the -sight of his harmonica to be such a shock." - -The captain did not speak. He was staring fascinated at the thing on -the table. Mrs. Pickett turned to Mr. Snyder. Her eyes, as they met -his, held him entranced. - -"Mr. Snyder, as a detective, you will be interested in a curious and -very tragic affair which happened in this house a few days ago. One of -my boarders, Captain Gunner, was found dead in his room. It was the -room which he shared with Captain Muller. I am very proud of the -reputation of my house, Mr. Snyder, and it was a blow to me that this -should have happened. I applied to an agency for a detective, and they -sent me a stupid boy, with nothing to recommend him except his belief -in himself. He said that Captain Gunner had died by accident, killed by -a snake which had come out of a crate of bananas. I knew better. I knew -that Captain Gunner had been murdered. Are you listening, Captain -Muller? This will interest you, as you were such a friend of his." - -The captain did not answer. He was staring straight before him, as if -he saw something invisible in eyes forever closed in death. - -"Yesterday we found the body of a dog. It had been killed, as Captain -Gunner had been, by the poison of a snake. The boy from the agency said -that this was conclusive. He said that the snake had escaped from the -room after killing Captain Gunner and had in turn killed the dog. I -knew that to be impossible, for, if there had been a snake in that room -it could not have made its escape." - -Her eyes flashed, and became remorselessly accusing. "It was not a -snake that killed Captain Gunner. It was a cat. Captain Gunner had a -friend who hated him. One day, in opening a crate of bananas, this -friend found a snake. He killed it, and extracted the poison. He knew -Captain Gunner's habits. He knew that he played a harmonica. This man -also had a cat. He knew that cats hated the sound of a harmonica. He -had often seen this particular cat fly at Captain Gunner and scratch -him when he played. He took the cat and covered its claws with the -poison. And then he left it in the room with Captain Gunner. He knew -what would happen." - -Oakes and Mr. Snyder were on their feet. Captain Muller had not moved. -He sat there, his fingers gripping the cloth. Mrs. Pickett rose and -went to a closet. She unlocked the door. "Kitty!" she called. "Kitty! -Kitty!" - -A black cat ran swiftly out into the room. With a clatter and a crash -of crockery and a ringing of glass the table heaved, rocked and -overturned as Muller staggered to his feet. He threw up his hands as if -to ward something off. A choking cry came from his lips. "Gott! Gott!" - -Mrs. Pickett's voice rang through the room, cold and biting: "Captain -Muller, you murdered Captain Gunner!" - -The captain shuddered. Then mechanically he replied: "Gott! Yes, I -killed him." - -"You heard, Mr. Snyder," said Mrs. Pickett. "He has confessed before -witnesses. Take him away." - -Muller allowed himself to be moved toward the door. His arm in Mr. -Snyder's grip felt limp. Mrs. Pickett stopped and took something from -the debris on the floor. She rose, holding the harmonica. - -"You are forgetting your souvenir, Captain Muller," she said. - - - - -MISUNDERSTOOD - - -The profession of Mr. James ("Spider") Buffin was pocket-picking. His -hobby was revenge. James had no objection to letting the sun go down on -his wrath. Indeed, it was after dark that he corrected his numerous -enemies most satisfactorily. It was on a dark night, while he was -settling a small score against one Kelly, a mere acquaintance, that he -first fell foul of Constable Keating, whose beat took him through the -regions which James most frequented. - -James, having "laid for" Mr. Kelly, met him in a murky side-street down -Clerkenwell way, and attended to his needs with a sand-bag. - -It was here that Constable Keating first came prominently into his -life. Just as James, with the satisfying feeling that his duty had been -done, was preparing to depart, Officer Keating, who had been a distant -spectator of the affair, charged up and seized him. - -It was intolerable that he should interfere in a purely private -falling-out between one gentleman and another, but there was nothing to -be done. The policeman weighed close upon fourteen stone, and could -have eaten Mr. Buffin. The latter, inwardly seething, went quietly, and -in due season was stowed away at the Government's expense for the space -of sixty days. - -Physically, there is no doubt that his detention did him good. The -regular hours and the substitution of bread and water for his wonted -diet improved his health thirty per cent. It was mentally that he -suffered. His was one of those just-as-good cheap-substitute minds, -incapable of harbouring more than one idea at a time, and during those -sixty days of quiet seclusion it was filled with an ever-growing -resentment against Officer Keating. Every day, as he moved about his -appointed tasks, he brooded on his wrongs. Every night was to him but -the end of another day that kept him from settling down to the serious -business of Revenge. To be haled to prison for correcting a private -enemy with a sand-bag--that was what stung. In the privacy of his cell -he dwelt unceasingly on the necessity for revenge. The thing began to -take on to him the aspect almost of a Holy Mission, a sort of Crusade. - - * * * * * - -The days slipped by, bringing winter to Clerkenwell, and with it Mr. -Buffin. He returned to his old haunts one Friday night, thin but in -excellent condition. One of the first acquaintances he met was Officer -Keating. The policeman, who had a good memory for faces, recognised -him, and stopped. - -"So you're out, young feller?" he said genially. When not in the active -discharge of his professional duties the policeman was a kindly man. He -bore Mr. Buffin no grudge. - -"Um," said Mr. Buffin. - -"Feeling fine, eh?" - -"Um." - -"Goin' round to see some of the chaps and pass them the time of day, I -shouldn't wonder?" - -"Um." - -"Well, you keep clear of that lot down in Frith Street, young feller. -They're no good. And if you get mixed up with them, first thing you -know, you'll be in trouble again. And you want to keep out of that -now." - -"Um." - -"If you never get into trouble," said the policeman sententiously, -"you'll never have to get out of it." - -"Um," said Mr. Buffin. If he had a fault as a conversationalist, it was -a certain tendency to monotony, a certain lack of sparkle and variety -in his small-talk. - -Constable Keating, with a dignified but friendly wave of the hand, as -one should say, "You have our leave to depart," went on his way; while -Mr. Buffin, raging, shuffled off in the opposite direction, thinking as -hard as his limited mental equipment would allow him. - -His thoughts, which were many and confused, finally composed themselves -into some order. He arrived at a definite conclusion, which was that if -the great settlement was to be carried through successfully it must be -done when the policeman was off duty. Till then he had pictured himself -catching Officer Keating in an unguarded moment on his beat. This, he -now saw, was out of the question. On his beat the policeman had no -unguarded moments. There was a quiet alertness in his poise, a -danger-signal in itself. - -There was only one thing for Mr. Buffin to do. Greatly as it would go -against the grain, he must foregather with the man, win his confidence, -put himself in a position where he would be able to find out what he -did with himself when off duty. - -The policeman offered no obstacle to the move. A supreme -self-confidence was his leading characteristic. Few London policemen -are diffident, and Mr. Keating was no exception. It never occurred to -him that there could be an ulterior motive behind Mr. Buffin's -advances. He regarded Mr. Buffin much as one regards a dog which one -has had to chastise. One does not expect the dog to lie in wait and -bite. Officer Keating did not expect Mr. Buffin to lie in wait and -bite. - -So every day, as he strolled on his beat, there sidled up to him -the meagre form of Spider Buffin. Every day there greeted him the -Spider's "Good-morning, Mr. Keating," till the sight of Officer Keating -walking solidly along the pavement with Spider Buffin shuffling along -at his side, listening with rapt interest to his views on Life and his -hints on Deportment, became a familiar spectacle in Clerkenwell. - - * * * * * - -Mr. Buffin played his part well. In fact, too well. It was on the -seventh day that, sidling along in the direction of his favourite place -of refreshment, he found himself tapped on the shoulder. At the same -moment an arm, linking itself in his, brought him gently to a halt. -Beside him were standing two of the most eminent of the great Frith -Street Gang, Otto the Sausage and Rabbit Butler. It was the finger of -the Rabbit that had tapped his shoulder. The arm tucked in his was the -arm of Otto the Sausage. - -"Hi, Spider," said Mr. Butler, "Sid wants to see you a minute." - -The Spider's legs felt boneless. There was nothing in the words to -alarm a man, but his practised ear had seemed to detect a certain -unpleasant dryness in the speaker's tone. Sid Marks, the all-powerful -leader of the Frith Street Gang, was a youth whose company the Spider -had always avoided with some care. - -The great Sid, seated in state at a neighbouring hostelry, fixed his -visitor with a cold and questioning eye. Mr. Buffin looked nervous and -interrogative. Mr. Marks spoke. - -"Your pal Keating pinched Porky Binns this mornin'," said Sid. - -The Spider's heart turned to water. - -"You and that slop," observed Sid dreamily, "have been bloomin' thick -these days." - -Mr. Buffin did not affect to misunderstand. Sid Marks was looking at -him in that nasty way. Otto the Sausage was looking at him in that -nasty way. Rabbit Butler was looking at him in that nasty way. This was -an occasion where manly frankness was the quality most to be aimed at. -To be misunderstood in the circles in which Mr. Buffin moved meant -something more than the mere risk of being treated with cold -displeasure. - -He began to explain with feverish eagerness. - -"Strike me, Sid," he stammered, "it ain't like that. It's all right. -Blimey, you don't fink I'm a nark?" - -Mr. Marks chewed a straw in silence. - -"I'm layin' for him, Sid," babbled Mr. Buffin. "That's true. Strike me -if it ain't. I'm just tryin' to find out where he goes when he's off -duty. He pinched me, so I'm layin' for him." - -Mr. Marks perpended. Rabbit Butler respectfully gave it as his opinion -that it would be well to put Mr. Buffin through it. There was nothing -like being on the safe side. By putting Mr. Buffin through it, argued -Rabbit Butler, they would stand to win either way. If he _had_ -"smitched" to Officer Keating about Porky Binns he would deserve it. If -he had not--well, it would prevent him doing so on some future -occasion. Play for safety, was Mr. Butler's advice, seconded by Otto -the Sausage. Mr. Buffin, pale to the lips, thought he had never met two -more unpleasant persons. - -The Great Sid, having chewed his straw for a while in silence, -delivered judgment. The prisoner should have the benefit of the doubt -this time. His story, however unplausible, might possibly be true. -Officer Keating undoubtedly had pinched him. That was in his favour. - -"You can hop it this time," he said, "but if you ever do start -smitchin', Spider, yer knows what'll happen." - -Mr. Buffin withdrew, quaking. - -Matters had now come to a head. Unless he very speedily gave proof -of his pure and noble intentions, life would become extremely unsafe -for him. He must act at once. The thought of what would happen should -another of the Frith Streeters be pinched before he, Mr. Buffin, could -prove himself innocent of the crime of friendliness with Officer Keating, -turned him cold. - -Fate played into his hands. On the very next morning Mr. Keating, all -unsuspecting, asked him to go to his home with a message for his wife. - -"Tell her," said Mr. Keating, "a newspaper gent has given me seats for -the play to-night, and I'll be home at a quarter to seven." - -Mr. Buffin felt as Cromwell must have felt at Dunbar when the Scots -left their stronghold on the hills and came down to the open plain. - -The winter had set in with some severity that year, and Mr. Buffin's -toes, as he stood in the shadows close to the entrance of the villa -where Officer Keating lived when off duty, were soon thoroughly frozen. -He did not dare to stamp his feet, for at any moment now the victim -might arrive. And when the victim weighs fourteen stone, against the -high priest's eight and a half, it behooves the latter to be -circumspect, if the sacrifice is to be anything like a success. So Mr. -Buffin waited and froze in silence. It was a painful process, and he -added it to the black score which already stood against Officer -Keating. Never had his thirst for revenge been more tormenting. It is -doubtful if a strictly logical and impartial judge would have held Mr. -Keating to blame for the fact that Sid Marks' suspicions (and all that -those suspicions entailed) had fallen upon Mr. Buffin; but the Spider -did so. He felt fiercely resentful against the policeman for placing -him in such an unpleasant and dangerous position. As his thoughts ran -on the matter, he twisted his fingers tighter round his stick. - -As he did so there came from down the road the brisk tramp of feet and -a cheerful whistling of "The Wearing of the Green." It is a lugubrious -song as a rule, but, as rendered by Officer Keating returning home with -theatre tickets, it had all the joyousness of a march-tune. - -Every muscle in Mr. Buffin's body stiffened. He gripped his stick and -waited. The road was deserted. In another moment.... - -And then, from nowhere, dark indistinct forms darted out like rats. The -whistling stopped in the middle of a bar. A deep-chested oath rang out, -and then a confused medley of sound, the rasping of feet, a growling -almost canine, a sharp yelp, gasps, and over all the vast voice of -Officer Keating threatening slaughter. - -For a moment Mr. Buffin stood incapable of motion. The thing had been -so sudden, so unexpected. And then, as he realised what was happening, -there swept over him in a wave a sense of intolerable injustice. It is -not easy to describe his emotions, but they resembled most nearly those -of an inventor whose patent has been infringed, or an author whose idea -has been stolen. For weeks--and weeks that had seemed like years--he -had marked down Officer Keating for his prey. For weeks he had tortured -a mind all unused to thinking into providing him with schemes for -accomplishing his end. He had outraged his nature by being civil to a -policeman. He had risked his life by incurring the suspicions of Sid -Marks. He had bought a stick. And he had waited in the cold till his -face was blue and his feet blocks of ice. And now ... _now_ ... -after all this ... a crowd of irresponsible strangers, with no rights -in the man whatsoever probably, if the truth were known, filled with -mere ignoble desire for his small change, had dared to rush in and jump -his claim before his very eyes. - -With one passionate cry, Mr. Buffin, forgetting his frozen feet, lifted -his stick, and galloped down the road to protect his property.... - -"That's the stuff," said a voice. "Pour some more into him, Jerry." - -Mr. Buffin opened his eyes. A familiar taste was in his mouth. Somebody -of liberal ideas seemed to be pouring whisky down his throat. Could -this be Heaven? He raised his head, and a sharp pain shot through it. -And with the pain came recollection. He remembered now, dimly, as if it -had all happened in another life, the mad rush down the road, the -momentary pause in the conflict, and then its noisy renewal on a more -impressive scale. He remembered striking out left and right with his -stick. He remembered the cries of the wounded, the pain of his frozen -feet, and finally the crash of something hard and heavy on his head. - -He sat up, and found himself the centre of a little crowd. There was -Officer Keating, dishevelled but intact; three other policemen, one of -whom was kneeling by his side with a small bottle in his hand; and, in -the grip of the two were standing two youths. - -One was Otto the Sausage; the other was Rabbit Butler. - -The kneeling policeman was proffering the bottle once more. Mr. Buffin -snatched at it. He felt that it was just what at that moment he needed -most. - - * * * * * - -He did what he could. The magistrate asked for his evidence. He said he -had none. He said he thought there must be some mistake. With a twisted -smile in the direction of the prisoners, he said that he did not -remember having seen either of them at the combat. He didn't believe -they were there at all. He didn't believe they were capable of such a -thing. If there was one man who was less likely to assault a policeman -than Otto the Sausage, it was Rabbit Butler. The Bench reminded him -that both these innocents had actually been discovered in Officer -Keating's grasp. Mr. Buffin smiled a harassed smile, and wiped a drop -of perspiration from his brow. - -Officer Keating was enthusiastic. He described the affair from start to -finish. But for Mr. Buffin he would have been killed. But for Mr. -Buffin there would have been no prisoners in court that day. The world -was full of men with more or less golden hearts, but there was only one -Mr. Buffin. Might he shake hands with Mr. Buffin? - -The magistrate ruled that he might. More, he would shake hands with him -himself. Summoning Mr. Buffin behind his desk, he proceeded to do so. -If there were more men like Mr. Buffin, London would be a better place. -It was the occasional discovery in our midst of ethereal natures like -that of Mr. Buffin which made one so confident for the future of the -race. - -The paragon shuffled out. It was bright and sunny in the street, but in -Mr. Buffin's heart there was no sunlight. He was not a quick thinker, -but he had come quite swiftly to the conclusion that London was no -longer the place for him. Sid Marks had been in court chewing a straw -and listening with grave attention to the evidence, and for one moment -Mr. Buffin had happened to catch his eye. No medical testimony as to -the unhealthiness of London could have moved him more. - -Once round the corner, he ran. It hurt his head to run, but there were -things behind him that could hurt his head more than running. - - * * * * * - -At the entrance to the Tube he stopped. To leave the locality he must -have money. He felt in his pockets. Slowly, one by one, he pulled forth -his little valuables. His knife ... his revolver ... the magistrate's -gold watch ... He inspected them sadly. They must all go. - -He went into a pawnbroker's shop at the corner of the street. A few -moments later, with money in his pockets, he dived into the Tube. - - - - -THE BEST SAUCE - - -Eve Hendrie sat up in bed. For two hours she had been trying to get to -sleep, but without success. Never in her life had she felt more -wakeful. - -There were two reasons for this. Her mind was disturbed, and she was -very hungry. Neither sensation was novel to her. Since first she had -become paid companion to Mrs. Rastall-Retford there had hardly been a -moment when she had not been hungry. Some time before Mrs. -Rastall-Retford's doctor had recommended to that lady a Spartan diet, -and in this Eve, as companion, had unwillingly to share. It was not -pleasant for either of them, but at least Mrs. Rastall-Retford had the -knowledge that she had earned it by years of honest self-indulgence. -Eve had not that consolation. - -Meagre fare, moreover, had the effect of accentuating Mrs. -Rastall-Retford's always rather pronounced irritability. She was a -massive lady, with a prominent forehead, some half-dozen chins, and a -manner towards those in her employment which would have been resented -in a second mate by the crew of a Western ocean tramp. Even at her best -she was no ray of sunshine about the house. And since the beginning of -the self-denying ordinance she had been at her worst. - -But it was not depression induced by her employer that was disturbing -Eve. That was a permanent evil. What was agitating her so extremely -to-night was the unexpected arrival of Peter Rayner. - -It was Eve's practice to tell herself several times a day that she had -no sentiment for Peter Rayner but dislike. She did not attempt to -defend her attitude logically, but nevertheless she clung to it, and -to-night, when he entered the drawing-room, she had endeavoured to -convey by her manner that it was only with the greatest difficulty that -she remembered him at all, and that, having accomplished that feat, she -now intended to forget him again immediately. And he had grinned a -cheerful, affectionate grin, and beamed on her without a break till -bedtime. - -Before coming as companion to Mrs. Rastall-Retford Eve had been -governess to Hildebrand, aged six, the son of a Mrs. Elphinstone. It -had been, on the whole, a comfortable situation. She had not liked Mrs. -Elphinstone, but Hildebrand had been docile, and altogether life was -quite smooth and pleasant until Mrs. Elphinstone's brother came for a -visit. Peter Rayner was that brother. - -There is a type of man who makes love with the secrecy and sheepish -reserve of a cowboy shooting up a Wild West saloon. To this class Peter -belonged. He fell in love with Eve at sight, and if, at the end of the -first day, there was anyone in the house who was not aware of it, it -was only Hildebrand, aged six. And even Hildebrand must have had his -suspicions. - -Mrs. Elphinstone was among the first to become aware of it. For two -days, frostily silent and gimlet-like as to the eye, she observed -Peter's hurricane wooing from afar; then she acted. Peter she sent to -London, pacifying him with an invitation to return to the house in the -following week. This done, she proceeded to eliminate Eve. In the -course of the parting interview she expressed herself perhaps a little -less guardedly than was either just or considerate; and Eve, flushed -and at war with the whole race of Rayners, departed that afternoon to -seek a situation elsewhere. She had found it at the house of Mrs. -Rastall-Retford. - -And now this evening, as she sat in the drawing-room playing the piano -to her employer, in had walked the latter's son, a tall, nervous young -man, perpetually clearing his throat and fiddling with a pair of -gold-rimmed glasses, with the announcement that he had brought his -friend, Mr. Rayner, to spend a few days in the old home. - -Eve could still see the look on Peter's face as, having shaken hands -with his hostess, he turned to her. It was the look of the cowboy who, -his weary ride over, sees through the dusk the friendly gleam of the -saloon windows, and with a happy sigh reaches for his revolver. There -could be no two meanings to that look. It said, as clearly as if he had -shouted it, that this was no accidental meeting; that he had tracked -her down and proposed to resume matters at the point where they had -left off. - -Eve was indignant. It was abominable that he should pursue her in this -way. She sat thinking how abominable it was for five minutes; and then -it suddenly struck her that she was hungrier than ever. She had -forgotten her material troubles for the moment. It seemed to her now -that she was quite faint with hunger. - -A cuckoo clock outside the door struck one. And, as it did so, it came -to Eve that on the sideboard in the dining-room there were biscuits. - -A moment later she was creeping softly down the stairs. - - * * * * * - -It was dark and ghostly on the stairs. The house was full of noises. -She was glad when she reached the dining-room. It would be pleasant to -switch on the light. She pushed open the door, and uttered a cry. The -light was already switched on, and at the table, his back to her, was a -man. - -There was no time for flight. He must have heard the door open. In -another moment he would turn and spring. - -She spoke tremulously. - -"Don't--don't move. I'm pointing a pistol at you." - -The man did not move. - -"Foolish child!" he said, indulgently. "Suppose it went off!" - -She uttered an exclamation of surprise. - -"You! What are you doing here, Mr. Rayner?" - -She moved into the room, and her relief changed swiftly into -indignation. On the table were half a chicken, a loaf, some cold -potatoes, and a bottle of beer. - -"I'm eating, thank goodness!" said Peter, helping himself to a cold -potato. "I had begun to think I never should again." - -"Eating!" - -"Eating. I know a man of sensibility and refinement ought to shrink -from raiding his hostess's larder in the small hours, but hunger's -death to the finer feelings. It's the solar plexus punch which puts -one's better self down and out for the count of ten. I am a large and -healthy young man, and, believe me, I need this little snack. I need it -badly. May I cut you a slice of chicken?" - -She could hardly bear to look at it, but pride gave her strength. - -"No," she snapped. - -"You're sure? Poor little thing; I know you're half starved." - -Eve stamped. - -"How dare you speak to me like that, Mr. Rayner?" - -He drank bottled beer thoughtfully. - -"What made you come down? I suppose you heard a noise and thought it -was burglars?" he said. - -"Yes," said Eve, thankfully accepting the idea. At all costs she must -conceal the biscuit motive. - -"That was very plucky of you. Won't you sit down?" - -"No, I'm going back to bed." - -"Not just yet. I've several things to talk to you about. Sit down. -That's right. Now cover up your poor little pink ankles, or you'll be -catching----" - -She started up. - -"Mr. Rayner!" - -"Sit down." - -She looked at him defiantly, then, wondering at herself for doing it, -sat down. - -"Now," said Peter, "what do you mean by it? What do you mean by dashing -off from my sister's house without leaving a word for me as to where -you were going? You knew I loved you." - -"Good night, Mr. Rayner." - -"Sit down. You've given me a great deal of trouble. Do you know it cost -me a sovereign in tips to find out your address? I couldn't get it out -of my sister, and I had to apply to the butler. I've a good mind to -knock it off your first week's pin-money." - -"I shall not stay here listening----" - -"You knew perfectly well I wanted to marry you. But you fly off without -a word and bury yourself in this benighted place with a gorgon who nags -and bullies you----" - -"A nice way to speak of your hostess," said Eve, scornfully. - -"A very soothing way. I don't think I ever took such a dislike to a -woman at first sight before. And when she started to bullyrag you, it -was all I could do--But it won't last long now. You must come away at -once. We'll be married after Christmas, and in the meantime you can go -and live with my sister----" - -Eve listened speechlessly. She had so much to say that the difficulty -of selection rendered her dumb. - -"When can you start? I mean, do you have to give a month's notice or -anything?" - -Eve got up with a short laugh. - -"Good night, Mr. Rayner," she said. "You have been very amusing, but I -am getting tired." - -"I'm glad it's all settled," said Peter. "Good night." - -Eve stopped. She could not go tamely away without saying a single one -of the things that crowded in her mind. - -"Do you imagine," she said, "that I intend to marry you? Do you -suppose, for one moment----" - -"Rather!" said Peter. "You shall have a splendid time from now on, to -make up for all you've gone through. I'm going to be awfully good to -you, Eve. You sha'n't ever have any more worries, poor old thing." He -looked at her affectionately. "I wonder why it is that large men always -fall in love with little women. There are you, a fragile, fairy-like, -ethereal wisp of a little creature; and here am I----" - -"A great, big, greedy pig!" burst out Eve, "who thinks about nothing -but eating and drinking." - -"I wasn't going to have put it quite like that," said Peter, -thoughtfully. - -"I hate a greedy man," said Eve, between her teeth. - -"I have a healthy appetite," protested Peter. "Nothing more. It runs in -the family. At the time of the Civil War the Rayner of the period, who -was King Charles's right-hand man, would frequently eat despatches to -prevent them falling into the hands of the enemy. He was noted for it." - -Eve reached the door and turned. - -"I despise you," she said. - -"Good night," said Peter, tenderly. "To-morrow morning we'll go for a -walk." - -His prediction proved absolutely correct. He was smoking a cigarette -after breakfast when Eve came to him. Her face was pink and mutinous, -but there was a gleam in her eye. - -"Are you ready to come out, Mr. Rayner?" she said. "Mrs. -Rastall-Retford says I'm to take you to see the view from the golf -links." - -"You'll like that," said Peter. - -"I shall not like it," snapped Eve. "But Mrs. Rastall-Retford is paying -me a salary to do what she tells me, and I have to earn it." - -Conversation during the walk consisted mainly of a monologue on the -part of Peter. It was a crisp and exhilarating morning, and he appeared -to be feeling a universal benevolence towards all created things. He -even softened slightly on the subject of Mrs. Rastall-Retford, and -advanced the theory that her peculiar manner might be due to her having -been ill-treated as a child. - -Eve listened in silence. It was not till they were nearing home on -their return journey that she spoke. - -"Mr. Rayner," she said. - -"Yes?" said Peter. - -"I was talking to Mrs. Rastall-Retford after breakfast," said Eve, "and -I told her something about you." - -"My conscience is clear." - -"Oh, nothing bad. Some people would say it was very much to your -credit." She looked away across the fields. "I told her you were a -vegetarian," she added, carelessly. - -There was a long silence. Then Peter spoke three words, straight from -the heart. - -"You little devil!" - -Eve turned and looked at him, her eyes sparkling wickedly. - -"You see!" she said. "Now perhaps you will go." - -"Without you?" said Peter, stoutly. "Never!" - -"In London you will be able to eat all day--anything you like. You will -be able to creep about your club gnawing cold chicken all night. But if -you stay here----" - -"You have got a wrong idea of the London clubman's life," said Peter. -"If I crept about my club gnawing cold chicken I should have the -committee after me. No, I shall stay here and look after you. After -all, what is food?" - -"I'll tell you what yours will be, if you like. Or would you rather -wait and let it be a surprise? Well, for lunch you will have some -boiled potatoes and cabbage and a sweet--a sort of light _soufflé_ -thing. And for dinner----" - -"Yes, but one moment," said Peter. "If I'm a vegetarian, how did you -account for my taking all the chicken I could get at dinner last night, -and looking as if I wanted more?" - -"Oh, that was your considerateness. You didn't want to give trouble, -even if you had to sacrifice your principles. But it's all right now. -You are going to have your vegetables." - -Peter drew a deep breath--the breath of the man who braces himself up -and thanks whatever gods there be for his unconquerable soul. - -"I don't care," he said. "'A book of verses underneath the bough, a jug -of wine, and thou----'" - -"Oh, and I forgot," interrupted Eve. "I told her you were a teetotaller -as well." - -There was another silence, longer than the first. - -"The best train," said Eve, at last, "is the ten-fifty." - -He looked at her inquiringly. - -"The best train?" - -"For London." - -"What makes you think that I am interested in trains to London?" - -Eve bit her lip. - -"Mr. Rayner," she said, after a pause, "do you remember at lunch one -day at Mrs. Elphinstone's refusing parsnips? You said that, so far as -you were concerned, parsnips were first by a mile, and that prussic -acid and strychnine also ran." - -"Well?" said Peter. - -"Oh, nothing," said Eve. "Only I made a stupid mistake. I told the cook -you were devoted to parsnips. I'm sorry." - -Peter looked at her gravely. "I'm putting up with a lot for your sake," -he said. - -"You needn't. Why don't you go away?" - -"And leave you chained to the rock, Andromeda? Not for Perseus! I've -only been here one night, but I've seen enough to know that I've got to -take you away from this place. Honestly, it's killing you. I was -watching you last night. You're scared if that infernal old woman -starts to open her mouth. She's crushing the life out of you. I'm going -to stay on here till you say you'll marry me, or till they throw me -out." - -"There are parsnips for dinner to-night," said Eve, softly. - -"I shall get to like them. They are an acquired taste, I expect. -Perhaps I am, too. Perhaps I am the human parsnip, and you will have to -learn to love me." - -"You are the human burr," said Eve, shortly. "I shouldn't have thought -it possible for a man to behave as you are doing." - - * * * * * - -In spite of herself, there were moments during the next few days when -Eve felt twinges of remorse. It was only by telling herself that he had -no right to have followed her to this house, and that he was at perfect -liberty to leave whenever he wished, that she could harden her heart -again. And even this reflection was not entirely satisfactory, for it -made her feel how fond he must be of her to endure these evils for her -sake. - -And there was no doubt about there being evils. It was a dreary house -in which to spend winter days. There were no books that one could -possibly read. The nearest railway station was five miles away. There -was not even a dog to talk to. Generally it rained. Though Eve saw -little of Peter, except at meals and in the drawing-room after -dinner--for Mrs. Rastall-Retford spent most of the day in her own -sitting-room and required Eve to be at her side--she could picture his -sufferings, and, try as she would, she could not keep herself from -softening a little. Her pride was weakening. Constant attendance on her -employer was beginning to have a bad effect on her nerves. Association -in a subordinate capacity with Mrs. Rastall-Retford did not encourage a -proud and spirited outlook on life. - -Her imagination had not exaggerated Peter's sufferings. Many people -consider that Dante has spoken the last word on the post-mortem housing -of the criminal classes. Peter, after the first week of his visit, -could have given him a few new ideas. - - * * * * * - -It is unpleasant to be half starved. It is unpleasant to be cooped up -in a country-house in winter with nothing to do. It is unpleasant to -have to sit at meals and listen to the only girl you have ever really -loved being bullyragged by an old lady with six chins. And all these -unpleasantnesses were occurring to Peter simultaneously. It is highly -creditable to him that the last should completely have outweighed the -others. - -He was generally alone. Mr. Rastall-Retford, who would have been better -than nothing as a companion, was a man who enjoyed solitude. He was a -confirmed vanisher. He would be present at one moment, the next he -would have glided silently away. And, even on the rare occasions when -he decided not to vanish, he seldom did much more than clear his throat -nervously and juggle with his pince-nez. - -Peter, in his boyhood, had been thrilled once by a narrative of a man -who got stuck in the Sargasso Sea. It seemed to him now that the -monotony of the Sargasso Sea had been greatly exaggerated. - -Nemesis was certainly giving Peter his due. He had wormed his way into -the Rastall-Retford home-circle by grossly deceitful means. The moment -he heard that Eve had gone to live with Mrs. Rastall-Retford, and had -ascertained that the Rastall-Retford with whom he had been at Cambridge -and whom he still met occasionally at his club when he did not see him -first, was this lady's son, he had set himself to court young Mr. -Rastall-Retford. He had cornered him at the club and begun to talk -about the dear old 'Varsity days, ignoring the embarrassment of the -latter, whose only clear recollection of the dear old 'Varsity days as -linking Peter and himself was of a certain bump-supper night, when -sundry of the festive, led and inspired by Peter, had completely -wrecked his rooms and shaved off half a growing moustache. He conveyed -to young Mr. Rastall-Retford the impression that, in the dear old -'Varsity days, they had shared each other's joys and sorrows, and, -generally, had made Damon and Pythias look like a pair of cross-talk -knockabouts at one of the rowdier music-halls. Not to invite so old a -friend to stay at his home, if he ever happened to be down that way, -would, he hinted, be grossly churlish. Mr. Rastall-Retford, impressed, -issued the invitation. And now Peter was being punished for his deceit. -Nemesis may not be an Alfred Shrubb, but give her time and she gets -there. - - * * * * * - -It was towards the middle of the second week of his visit that Eve, -coming into the drawing-room before dinner, found Peter standing in -front of the fire. They had not been alone together for several days. - -"Well?" said he. - -Eve went to the fire and warmed her hands. - -"Well?" she said, dispiritedly. - -She was feeling nervous and ill. Mrs. Rastall-Retford had been in one -of her more truculent moods all day, and for the first time Eve had the -sensation of being thoroughly beaten. She dreaded the long hours to -bedtime. The thought that there might be bridge after dinner made her -feel physically ill. She felt she could not struggle through a bridge -night. - -On the occasions when she was in one of her dangerous moods, Mrs. -Rastall-Retford sometimes chose rest as a cure, sometimes relaxation. -Rest meant that she retired to her room immediately after dinner, and -expended her venom on her maid; relaxation meant bridge, and bridge -seemed to bring out all her worst points. They played the game for -counters at her house, and there had been occasions in Eve's experience -when the loss of a hundred or so of these useful little adjuncts to Fun -in the Home had lashed her almost into a frenzy. She was one of those -bridge players who keep up a running quarrel with Fate during the game, -and when she was not abusing Fate she was generally reproaching her -partner. Eve was always her partner; and to-night she devoutly hoped -that her employer would elect to rest. She always played badly with -Mrs. Rastall-Retford, through sheer nervousness. Once she had revoked, -and there had been a terrible moment and much subsequent recrimination. - -Peter looked at her curiously. - -"You're pale to-night," he said. - -"I have a headache." - -"H'm! How is our hostess? Fair? Or stormy?" - -"As I was passing her door I heard her bullying her maid, so I suppose -stormy." - -"That means a bad time for you?" he said, sympathetically. - -"I suppose so. If we play bridge. But she may go to bed directly after -dinner." - -She tried to keep her voice level, but he detected the break. - -"Eve," he said, quickly, "won't you let me take you away from here? -You've no business in this sort of game. You're not tough enough. -You've got to be loved and made a fuss of and----" - -She laughed shakily. - -"Perhaps you can give me the address of some lady who wants a companion -to love and make a fuss of?" - -"I can give you the address of a man." - -She rested an arm on the mantelpiece and stood looking into the blaze, -without replying. - -Before he could speak again there was a step outside the door, and Mrs. -Rastall-Retford rustled into the room. - -Eve had not misread the storm-signals. Her employer's mood was still as -it had been earlier in the day. Dinner passed in almost complete -silence. Mrs. Rastall-Retford sat brooding dumbly. Her eye was cold and -menacing, and Peter, working his way through his vegetables, shuddered -for Eve. He had understood her allusion to bridge, having been -privileged several times during his stay to see his hostess play that -game, and he hoped that there would be no bridge to-night. - -And this was unselfish of him, for bridge meant sandwiches. Punctually -at nine o'clock on bridge nights the butler would deposit on a -side-table a plate of chicken sandwiches and (in deference to Peter's -vegetarian views) a smaller plate of cheese sandwiches. At the close of -play Mrs. Rastall-Retford would take one sandwich from each plate, -drink a thimbleful of weak whisky and water, and retire. - -Peter could always do with a sandwich or two these days. But he was -prepared to abandon them joyfully if his hostess would waive bridge for -this particular evening. - -It was not to be. In the drawing-room Mrs. Rastall-Retford came out of -her trance and called imperiously for the cards. Peter, when he saw his -hand after the first deal, had a presentiment that if all his hands -were to be as good as this, the evening was going to be a trying one. -On the other occasions when they had played he had found it an -extremely difficult task, even with moderate cards, to bring it about -that his hostess should always win the odd rubber, for he was an -excellent player, and, like most good players, had an artistic -conscience which made it painful to him to play a deliberately bad -game, even from the best motives. If all his hands were going to be as -strong as this first one he saw that there was disaster ahead. He could -not help winning. - -Mrs. Rastall-Retford, who had dealt the first hand, made a most -improper diamond declaration. Her son unfilially doubled, and, Eve -having chicane--a tragedy which her partner evidently seemed to -consider could have been avoided by the exercise of ordinary common -sense--Peter and his partner, despite Peter's best efforts, won the -game handsomely. - -The son of the house dealt the next hand. Eve sorted her cards -listlessly. She was feeling curiously tired. Her brain seemed dulled. - -This hand, as the first had done, went all in favour of the two men. -Mr. Rastall-Retford won five tricks in succession, and, judging from -the glitter in his mild eye, was evidently going to win as many more as -he possibly could. Mrs. Rastall-Retford glowered silently. There was -electricity in the air. - -The son of the house led a club. Eve played a card mechanically. - -"Have you no clubs, Miss Hendrie?" - -Eve started, and looked at her hand. - -"No," she said. - -Mrs. Rastall-Retford grunted suspiciously. - -Not long ago, in Westport, Connecticut, U.S.A., a young man named -Harold Sperry, a telephone worker, was boring a hole in the wall of a -house with a view to passing a wire through it. He whistled joyously as -he worked. He did not know that he had selected for purposes of -perforation the exact spot where there lay, nestling in the brickwork, -a large leaden water-pipe. The first intimation he had of that fact was -when a jet of water suddenly knocked him fifteen feet into a rosebush. - -As Harold felt then, so did Eve now, when, examining her hand once more -to make certain that she had no clubs, she discovered the ace of that -ilk peeping coyly out from behind the seven of spades. - -Her face turned quite white. It is never pleasant to revoke at bridge, -but to Eve just then it seemed a disaster beyond words. She looked -across at her partner. Her imagination pictured the scene there would -be ere long, unless---- - -It happens every now and then that the human brain shows in a crisis an -unwonted flash of speed. Eve's did at this juncture. To her in her -trouble there came a sudden idea. - -She looked round the table. Mr. Rastall-Retford, having taken the last -trick, had gathered it up in the introspective manner of one planning -big _coups_, and was brooding tensely, with knit brows. His mother -was frowning over her cards. She was unobserved. - -She seized the opportunity. She rose from her seat, moved quickly to -the side-table, and, turning her back, slipped the fatal card -dexterously into the interior of a cheese sandwich. - -Mrs. Rastall-Retford, absorbed, did not notice for an instant. Then she -gave tongue. - -"What are you doing, Miss Hendrie?" - -Eve was breathing quickly. - -"I--I thought that Mr. Rayner might like a sandwich." - -She was at his elbow with the plate. It trembled in her hand. - -"A sandwich! Kindly do not be so officious, Miss Hendrie. The idea--in -the middle of a hand----" Her voice died away in a resentful mumble. - -Peter started. He had been allowing his thoughts to wander. He looked -from the sandwich to Eve and then at the sandwich again. He was -puzzled. This had the aspect of being an olive-branch--could it be? -Could she be meaning----? Or was it a subtle insult? Who could say? At -any rate it was a sandwich, and he seized it, without prejudice. - -"I hope at least you have had the sense to remember that Mr. Rayner is -a vegetarian, Miss Hendrie," said Mrs. Rastall-Retford. "That is not a -chicken sandwich?" - -"No," said Eve; "it is not a chicken sandwich." - -Peter beamed gratefully. He raised the olive-branch, and bit into it -with the energy of a starving man. And as he did so he caught Eve's -eye. - -"Miss Hendrie!" cried Mrs. Rastall-Retford. - -Eve started violently. - -"Miss Hendrie, will you be good enough to play? The king of clubs to -beat. I can't think what's the matter with you to-night." - -"I'm very sorry," said Eve, and put down the nine of spades. - -Mrs. Rastall-Retford glared. - -"This is absurd," she cried. "You _must_ have the ace of clubs. If -you have not got it, who has? Look through your hand again. Is it -there?" - -"No." - -"Then where can it be?" - -"Where can it be?" echoed Peter, taking another bite. - -"Why--why," said Eve, crimson, "I--I--have only five cards. I ought to -have six." - -"Five?" said Mrs. Rastall-Retford "Nonsense! Count again. Have you -dropped it on the floor?" - -Mr. Rastall-Retford stooped and looked under the table. - -"It is not on the floor," he said. "I suppose it must have been missing -from the pack before I dealt." - -Mrs. Rastall-Retford threw down her cards and rose ponderously. It -offended her vaguely that there seemed to be nobody to blame. "I shall -go to bed," she said. - - * * * * * - -Peter stood before the fire and surveyed Eve as she sat on the sofa. -They were alone in the room, Mr. Rastall-Retford having drifted -silently away in the wake of his mother. Suddenly Eve began to laugh -helplessly. - -He shook his head at her. - -"This is considerably sharper than a serpent's tooth," he said. "You -should be fawning gratefully upon me, not laughing. Do you suppose King -Charles laughed at my ancestor when he ate the despatches? However, for -the first time since I have been in this house I feel as if I had had a -square meal." - -Eve became suddenly serious. The smile left her face. - -"Mr. Rayner, please don't think I'm ungrateful. I couldn't help -laughing, but I can't tell you how grateful I am. You don't know what -it would have been like if she had found out that I had revoked. I did -it once before, and she kept on about it for days and days. It was -awful." She shivered. "I think you must be right, and my nerves -_are_ going." - -He nodded. - -"So are you--to-morrow, by the first train. I wonder how soon we can -get married. Do you know anything about special licenses?" - -She looked at him curiously. - -"You're very obstinate," she said. - -"Firm," he corrected. "Firm. Could you pack to-night, do you think, and -be ready for that ten-fifty to-morrow morning?" - -She began to trace an intricate pattern on the floor with the point of -her shoe. - -"I can't imagine why you are fond of me!" she said. "I've been very -horrid to you." - -"Nonsense. You've been all that's sweet and womanly." - -"And I want to tell you why," she went on. "Your--your sister----" - -"Ah, I thought as much!" - -"She--she saw that you seemed to be getting fond of me, and she----" - -"She would!" - -"Said some rather horrid things that--hurt," said Eve, in a low voice. - -Peter crossed over to where she sat and took her hand. - -"Don't you worry about her," he said. "She's not a bad sort really, but -about once every six months she needs a brotherly talking-to, or she -gets above herself. One is about due during the next few days." - -He stroke her hand. - -"Fasting," he said, thoughtfully, "clears and stimulates the brain. I -fancy I shall be able to think out some rather special things to say to -her this time." - - - - -JEEVES AND THE CHUMP CYRIL - - -You know, the longer I live, the more clearly I see that half the -trouble in this bally world is caused by the light-hearted and -thoughtless way in which chappies dash off letters of introduction and -hand them to other chappies to deliver to chappies of the third part. -It's one of those things that make you wish you were living in the -Stone Age. What I mean to say is, if a fellow in those days wanted to -give anyone a letter of introduction, he had to spend a month or so -carving it on a large-sized boulder, and the chances were that the -other chappie got so sick of lugging the thing round in the hot sun -that he dropped it after the first mile. But nowadays it's so easy to -write letters of introduction that everybody does it without a second -thought, with the result that some perfectly harmless cove like myself -gets in the soup. - -Mark you, all the above is what you might call the result of my riper -experience. I don't mind admitting that in the first flush of the -thing, so to speak, when Jeeves told me--this would be about three -weeks after I'd landed in America--that a blighter called Cyril -Bassington-Bassington had arrived and I found that he had brought a -letter of introduction to me from Aunt Agatha ... where was I? Oh, -yes ... I don't mind admitting, I was saying, that just at first I was -rather bucked. You see, after the painful events which had resulted in -my leaving England I hadn't expected to get any sort of letter from -Aunt Agatha which would pass the censor, so to speak. And it was a -pleasant surprise to open this one and find it almost civil. Chilly, -perhaps, in parts, but on the whole quite tolerably polite. I looked on -the thing as a hopeful sign. Sort of olive-branch, you know. Or do I -mean orange blossom? What I'm getting at is that the fact that Aunt -Agatha was writing to me without calling me names seemed, more or less, -like a step in the direction of peace. - -And I was all for peace, and that right speedily. I'm not saying a word -against New York, mind you. I liked the place, and was having quite a -ripe time there. But the fact remains that a fellow who's been used to -London all his life does get a trifle homesick on a foreign strand, and -I wanted to pop back to the cosy old flat in Berkeley Street--which -could only be done when Aunt Agatha had simmered down and got over the -Glossop episode. I know that London is a biggish city, but, believe me, -it isn't half big enough for any fellow to live in with Aunt Agatha -when she's after him with the old hatchet. And so I'm bound to say I -looked on this chump Bassington-Bassington, when he arrived, more or -less as a Dove of Peace, and was all for him. - -He would seem from contemporary accounts to have blown in one morning -at seven-forty-five, that being the ghastly sort of hour they shoot you -off the liner in New York. He was given the respectful raspberry by -Jeeves, and told to try again about three hours later, when there would -be a sporting chance of my having sprung from my bed with a glad cry to -welcome another day and all that sort of thing. Which was rather decent -of Jeeves, by the way, for it so happened that there was a slight -estrangement, a touch of coldness, a bit of a row in other words, -between us at the moment because of some rather priceless purple socks -which I was wearing against his wishes: and a lesser man might easily -have snatched at the chance of getting back at me a bit by loosing -Cyril into my bedchamber at a moment when I couldn't have stood a -two-minutes' conversation with my dearest pal. For until I have had my -early cup of tea and have brooded on life for a bit absolutely -undisturbed, I'm not much of a lad for the merry chit-chat. - -So Jeeves very sportingly shot Cyril out into the crisp morning air, -and didn't let me know of his existence till he brought his card in -with the Bohea. - -"And what might all this be, Jeeves?" I said, giving the thing the -glassy gaze. - -"The gentleman has arrived from England, I understand, sir. He called -to see you earlier in the day." - -"Good Lord, Jeeves! You don't mean to say the day starts earlier than -this?" - -"He desired me to say he would return later, sir." - -"I've never heard of him. Have you ever heard of him, Jeeves?" - -"I am familiar with the name Bassington-Bassington, sir. There are -three branches of the Bassington-Bassington family--the Shropshire -Bassington-Bassingtons, the Hampshire Bassington-Bassingtons, and the -Kent Bassington-Bassingtons." - -"England seems pretty well stocked up with Bassington-Bassingtons." - -"Tolerably so, sir." - -"No chance of a sudden shortage, I mean, what?" - -"Presumably not, sir." - -"And what sort of a specimen is this one?" - -"I could not say, sir, on such short acquaintance." - -"Will you give me a sporting two to one, Jeeves, judging from what you -have seen of him, that this chappie is not a blighter or an -excrescence?" - -"No, sir. I should not care to venture such liberal odds." - -"I knew it. Well, the only thing that remains to be discovered is what -kind of a blighter he is." - -"Time will tell, sir. The gentleman brought a letter for you, sir." - -"Oh, he did, did he?" I said, and grasped the communication. And then I -recognised the handwriting. "I say, Jeeves, this is from my Aunt -Agatha!" - -"Indeed, sir?" - -"Don't dismiss it in that light way. Don't you see what this means? She -says she wants me to look after this excrescence while he's in New -York. By Jove, Jeeves, if I only fawn on him a bit, so that he sends -back a favourable report to head-quarters, I may yet be able to get -back to England in time for Goodwood. Now is certainly the time for all -good men to come to the aid of the party, Jeeves. We must rally round -and cosset this cove in no uncertain manner." - -"Yes, sir." - -"He isn't going to stay in New York long," I said, taking another look -at the letter. "He's headed for Washington. Going to give the nibs -there the once-over, apparently, before taking a whirl at the -Diplomatic Service. I should say that we can win this lad's esteem and -affection with a lunch and a couple of dinners, what?" - -"I fancy that should be entirely adequate, sir." - -"This is the jolliest thing that's happened since we left England. It -looks to me as if the sun were breaking through the clouds." - -"Very possibly, sir." - -He started to put out my things, and there was an awkward sort of -silence. - -"Not those socks, Jeeves," I said, gulping a bit but having a dash at -the careless, off-hand tone. "Give me the purple ones." - -"I beg your pardon, sir?" - -"Those jolly purple ones." - -"Very good, sir." - -He lugged them out of the drawer as if he were a vegetarian fishing a -caterpillar out of the salad. You could see he was feeling deeply. -Deuced painful and all that, this sort of thing, but a chappie has got -to assert himself every now and then. Absolutely. - - * * * * * - -I was looking for Cyril to show up again any time after breakfast, but -he didn't appear: so towards one o'clock I trickled out to the Lambs -Club, where I had an appointment to feed the Wooster face with a cove -of the name of Caffyn I'd got pally with since my arrival--George -Caffyn, a fellow who wrote plays and what not. I'd made a lot of -friends during my stay in New York, the city being crammed with -bonhomous lads who one and all extended a welcoming hand to the -stranger in their midst. - -Caffyn was a bit late, but bobbed up finally, saying that he had been -kept at a rehearsal of his new musical comedy, "Ask Dad"; and we -started in. We had just reached the coffee, when the waiter came up and -said that Jeeves wanted to see me. - -Jeeves was in the waiting-room. He gave the socks one pained look as I -came in, then averted his eyes. - -"Mr. Bassington-Bassington has just telephoned, sir." - -"Oh?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Where is he?" - -"In prison, sir." - -I reeled against the wallpaper. A nice thing to happen to Aunt Agatha's -nominee on his first morning under my wing, I did _not_ think! - -"In prison!" - -"Yes, sir. He said on the telephone that he had been arrested and would -be glad if you could step round and bail him out." - -"Arrested! What for?" - -"He did not favour me with his confidence in that respect, sir." - -"This is a bit thick, Jeeves." - -"Precisely, sir." - -I collected old George, who very decently volunteered to stagger along -with me, and we hopped into a taxi. We sat around at the police-station -for a bit on a wooden bench in a sort of ante-room, and presently a -policeman appeared, leading in Cyril. - -"Halloa! Halloa! Halloa!" I said. "What?" - -My experience is that a fellow never really looks his best just after -he's come out of a cell. When I was up at Oxford, I used to have a -regular job bailing out a pal of mine who never failed to get pinched -every Boat-Race night, and he always looked like something that had -been dug up by the roots. Cyril was in pretty much the same sort of -shape. He had a black eye and a torn collar, and altogether was nothing -to write home about--especially if one was writing to Aunt Agatha. He -was a thin, tall chappie with a lot of light hair and pale-blue goggly -eyes which made him look like one of the rarer kinds of fish. - -"I got your message," I said. - -"Oh, are you Bertie Wooster?" - -"Absolutely. And this is my pal George Caffyn. Writes plays and what -not, don't you know." - -We all shook hands, and the policeman, having retrieved a piece of -chewing-gum from the underside of a chair, where he had parked it -against a rainy day, went off into a corner and began to contemplate -the infinite. - -"This is a rotten country," said Cyril. - -"Oh, I don't know, you know, don't you know!" I said. - -"We do our best," said George. - -"Old George is an American," I explained. "Writes plays, don't you -know, and what not." - -"Of course, I didn't invent the country," said George. "That was -Columbus. But I shall be delighted to consider any improvements you may -suggest and lay them before the proper authorities." - -"Well, why don't the policemen in New York dress properly?" - -George took a look at the chewing officer across the room. - -"I don't see anything missing," he said - -"I mean to say, why don't they wear helmets like they do in London? Why -do they look like postmen? It isn't fair on a fellow. Makes it dashed -confusing. I was simply standing on the pavement, looking at things, -when a fellow who looked like a postman prodded me in the ribs with a -club. I didn't see why I should have postmen prodding me. Why the -dickens should a fellow come three thousand miles to be prodded by -postmen?" - -"The point is well taken," said George. "What did you do?" - -"I gave him a shove, you know. I've got a frightfully hasty temper, you -know. All the Bassington-Bassingtons have got frightfully hasty -tempers, don't you know! And then he biffed me in the eye and lugged me -off to this beastly place." - -"I'll fix it, old son," I said. And I hauled out the bank-roll and went -off to open negotiations, leaving Cyril to talk to George. I don't mind -admitting that I was a bit perturbed. There were furrows in the old -brow, and I had a kind of foreboding feeling. As long as this chump -stayed in New York, I was responsible for him: and he didn't give me -the impression of being the species of cove a reasonable chappie would -care to be responsible for for more than about three minutes. - -I mused with a considerable amount of tensity over Cyril that night, -when I had got home and Jeeves had brought me the final whisky. I -couldn't help feeling that this visit of his to America was going to be -one of those times that try men's souls and what not. I hauled out Aunt -Agatha's letter of introduction and re-read it, and there was no -getting away from the fact that she undoubtedly appeared to be somewhat -wrapped up in this blighter and to consider it my mission in life to -shield him from harm while on the premises. I was deuced thankful that -he had taken such a liking for George Caffyn, old George being a steady -sort of cove. After I had got him out of his dungeon-cell, he and old -George had gone off together, as chummy as brothers, to watch the -afternoon rehearsal of "Ask Dad." There was some talk, I gathered, of -their dining together. I felt pretty easy in my mind while George had -his eye on him. - -I had got about as far as this in my meditations, when Jeeves came in -with a telegram. At least, it wasn't a telegram: it was a cable--from -Aunt Agatha--and this is what it said:---- - - Has Cyril Bassington-Bassington called yet? On no account introduce - him into theatrical circles. Vitally important. Letter follows. - -I read it a couple of times. - -"This is rummy, Jeeves!" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Very rummy and dashed disturbing!" - -"Will there be anything further to-night, sir?" - -Of course, if he was going to be as bally unsympathetic as that there -was nothing to be done. My idea had been to show him the cable and ask -his advice. But if he was letting those purple socks rankle to that -extent, the good old _noblesse oblige_ of the Woosters couldn't -lower itself to the extent of pleading with the man. Absolutely not. So -I gave it a miss. - -"Nothing more, thanks." - -"Good night, sir." - -"Good night." - -He floated away, and I sat down to think the thing over. I had been -directing the best efforts of the old bean to the problem for a matter -of half an hour, when there was a ring at the bell. I went to the door, -and there was Cyril, looking pretty festive. - -"I'll come in for a bit if I may," he said. "Got something rather -priceless to tell you." - -He curveted past me into the sitting-room, and when I got there after -shutting the front door I found him reading Aunt Agatha's cable and -giggling in a rummy sort of manner. "Oughtn't to have looked at this, I -suppose. Caught sight of my name and read it without thinking. I say, -Wooster, old friend of my youth, this is rather funny. Do you mind if I -have a drink? Thanks awfully and all that sort of rot. Yes, it's rather -funny, considering what I came to tell you. Jolly old Caffyn has given -me a small part in that musical comedy of his, 'Ask Dad.' Only a bit, -you know, but quite tolerably ripe. I'm feeling frightfully braced, -don't you know!" - -He drank his drink, and went on. He didn't seem to notice that I wasn't -jumping about the room, yapping with joy. - -"You know, I've always wanted to go on the stage, you know," he said. -"But my jolly old guv'nor wouldn't stick it at any price. Put the old -Waukeesi down with a bang, and turned bright purple whenever the -subject was mentioned. That's the real reason why I came over here, if -you want to know. I knew there wasn't a chance of my being able to work -this stage wheeze in London without somebody getting on to it and -tipping off the guv'nor, so I rather brainily sprang the scheme of -popping over to Washington to broaden my mind. There's nobody to -interfere on this side, you see, so I can go right ahead!" - -I tried to reason with the poor chump. - -"But your guv'nor will have to know some time." - -"That'll be all right. I shall be the jolly old star by then, and he -won't have a leg to stand on." - -"It seems to me he'll have one leg to stand on while he kicks me with -the other." - -"Why, where do you come in? What have you got to do with it?" - -"I introduced you to George Caffyn." - -"So you did, old top, so you did. I'd quite forgotten. I ought to have -thanked you before. Well, so long. There's an early rehearsal of 'Ask -Dad' to-morrow morning, and I must be toddling. Rummy the thing should -be called 'Ask Dad,' when that's just what I'm not going to do. See -what I mean, what, what? Well, pip-pip!" - -"Toodle-oo!" I said sadly, and the blighter scudded off. I dived for -the phone and called up George Caffyn. - -"I say, George, what's all this about Cyril Bassington-Bassington?" - -"What about him?" - -"He tells me you've given him a part in your show." - -"Oh, yes. Just a few lines." - -"But I've just had fifty-seven cables from home telling me on no -account to let him go on the stage." - -"I'm sorry. But Cyril is just the type I need for that part. He's -simply got to be himself." - -"It's pretty tough on me, George, old man. My Aunt Agatha sent this -blighter over with a letter of introduction to me, and she will hold me -responsible." - -"She'll cut you out of her will?" - -"It isn't a question of money. But--of course, you've never met my Aunt -Agatha, so it's rather hard to explain. But she's a sort of human -vampire-bat, and she'll make things most fearfully unpleasant for me -when I go back to England. She's the kind of woman who comes and rags -you before breakfast, don't you know." - -"Well, don't go back to England, then. Stick here and become -President." - -"But, George, old top----!" - -"Good night!" - -"But, I say, George, old man!" - -"You didn't get my last remark. It was 'Good night!' You Idle Rich may -not need any sleep, but I've got to be bright and fresh in the morning. -God bless you!" - -I felt as if I hadn't a friend in the world. I was so jolly well worked -up that I went and banged on Jeeves's door. It wasn't a thing I'd have -cared to do as a rule, but it seemed to me that now was the time for -all good men to come to the aid of the party, so to speak, and that it -was up to Jeeves to rally round the young master, even if it broke up -his beauty-sleep. - -Jeeves emerged in a brown dressing-gown. - -"Sir?" - -"Deuced sorry to wake you up, Jeeves, and what not, but all sorts of -dashed disturbing things have been happening." - -"I was not asleep. It is my practice, on retiring, to read a few pages -of some instructive book." - -"That's good! What I mean to say is, if you've just finished exercising -the old bean, it's probably in mid-season form for tackling problems. -Jeeves, Mr. Bassington-Bassington is going on the stage!" - -"Indeed, sir?" - -"Ah! The thing doesn't hit you! You don't get it properly! Here's the -point. All his family are most fearfully dead against his going on the -stage. There's going to be no end of trouble if he isn't headed off. -And, what's worse, my Aunt Agatha will blame me, you see." - -"I see, sir." - -"Well, can't you think of some way of stopping him?" - -"Not, I confess, at the moment, sir." - -"Well, have a stab at it." - -"I will give the matter my best consideration, sir. Will there be -anything further to-night?" - -"I hope not! I've had all I can stand already." - -"Very good, sir." - -He popped off. - - * * * * * - -The part which old George had written for the chump Cyril took up about -two pages of typescript; but it might have been Hamlet, the way that -poor, misguided pinhead worked himself to the bone over it. I suppose, -if I heard him his lines once, I did it a dozen times in the first -couple of days. He seemed to think that my only feeling about the whole -affair was one of enthusiastic admiration, and that he could rely on my -support and sympathy. What with trying to imagine how Aunt Agatha was -going to take this thing, and being woken up out of the dreamless in -the small hours every other night to give my opinion of some new bit of -business which Cyril had invented, I became more or less the good old -shadow. And all the time Jeeves remained still pretty cold and distant -about the purple socks. It's this sort of thing that ages a chappie, -don't you know, and makes his youthful _joie-de-vivre_ go a bit -groggy at the knees. - -In the middle of it Aunt Agatha's letter arrived. It took her about six -pages to do justice to Cyril's father's feelings in regard to his going -on the stage and about six more to give me a kind of sketch of what she -would say, think, and do if I didn't keep him clear of injurious -influences while he was in America. The letter came by the afternoon -mail, and left me with a pretty firm conviction that it wasn't a thing -I ought to keep to myself. I didn't even wait to ring the bell: I -whizzed for the kitchen, bleating for Jeeves, and butted into the -middle of a regular tea-party of sorts. Seated at the table were a -depressed-looking cove who might have been a valet or something, and a -boy in a Norfolk suit. The valet-chappie was drinking a whisky and -soda, and the boy was being tolerably rough with some jam and cake. - -"Oh, I say, Jeeves!" I said. "Sorry to interrupt the feast of reason -and flow of soul and so forth, but----" - -At this juncture the small boy's eye hit me like a bullet and stopped -me in my tracks. It was one of those cold, clammy, accusing sort of -eyes--the kind that makes you reach up to see if your tie is straight: -and he looked at me as if I were some sort of unnecessary product which -Cuthbert the Cat had brought in after a ramble among the local ash-cans. -He was a stoutish infant with a lot of freckles and a good deal of jam -on his face. - -"Hallo! Hallo! Hallo!" I said. "What?" There didn't seem much else to -say. - -The stripling stared at me in a nasty sort of way through the jam. He -may have loved me at first sight, but the impression he gave me was -that he didn't think a lot of me and wasn't betting much that I would -improve a great deal on acquaintance. I had a kind of feeling that I -was about as popular with him as a cold Welsh rabbit. - -"What's your name?" he asked. - -"My name? Oh, Wooster, don't you know, and what not." - -"My pop's richer than you are!" - -That seemed to be all about me. The child having said his say, started -in on the jam again. I turned to Jeeves. - -"I say, Jeeves, can you spare a moment? I want to show you something." - -"Very good, sir." We toddled into the sitting-room. - -"Who is your little friend, Sidney the Sunbeam, Jeeves?" - -"The young gentleman, sir?" - -"It's a loose way of describing him, but I know what you mean." - -"I trust I was not taking a liberty in entertaining him, sir?" - -"Not a bit. If that's your idea of a large afternoon, go ahead." - -"I happened to meet the young gentleman taking a walk with his father's -valet, sir, whom I used to know somewhat intimately in London, and I -ventured to invite them both to join me here." - -"Well, never mind about him, Jeeves. Read this letter." - -He gave it the up-and-down. - -"Very disturbing, sir!" was all he could find to say. - -"What are we going to do about it?" - -"Time may provide a solution, sir." - -"On the other hand, it mayn't, what?" - -"Extremely true, sir.". - -We'd got as far as this, when there was a ring at the door. Jeeves -shimmered off, and Cyril blew in, full of good cheer and -blitheringness. - -"I say, Wooster, old thing," he said, "I want your advice. You know -this jolly old part of mine. How ought I to dress it? What I mean is, -the first act scene is laid in an hotel of sorts, at about three in the -afternoon. What ought I to wear, do you think?" - -I wasn't feeling fit for a discussion of gent's suitings. - -"You'd better consult Jeeves," I said. - -"A hot and by no means unripe idea! Where is he?" - -"Gone back to the kitchen, I suppose." - -"I'll smite the good old bell, shall I? Yes? No?" - -"Right-o!" - -Jeeves poured silently in. - -"Oh, I say, Jeeves," began Cyril, "I just wanted to have a syllable or -two with you. It's this way--Hallo, who's this?" - -I then perceived that the stout stripling had trickled into the room -after Jeeves. He was standing near the door looking at Cyril as if his -worst fears had been realised. There was a bit of a silence. The child -remained there, drinking Cyril in for about half a minute; then he gave -his verdict: - -"Fish-face!" - -"Eh? What?" said Cyril. - -The child, who had evidently been taught at his mother's knee to speak -the truth, made his meaning a trifle clearer. - -"You've a face like a fish!" - -He spoke as if Cyril was more to be pitied than censured, which I am -bound to say I thought rather decent and broad-minded of him. I don't -mind admitting that, whenever I looked at Cyril's face, I always had a -feeling that he couldn't have got that way without its being mostly his -own fault. I found myself warming to this child. Absolutely, don't you -know. I liked his conversation. - -It seemed to take Cyril a moment or two really to grasp the thing, and -then you could hear the blood of the Bassington-Bassingtons begin to -sizzle. - -"Well, I'm dashed!" he said. "I'm dashed if I'm not!" - -"I wouldn't have a face like that," proceeded the child, with a good -deal of earnestness, "not if you gave me a million dollars." He thought -for a moment, then corrected himself. "Two million dollars!" he added. - -Just what occurred then I couldn't exactly say, but the next few -minutes were a bit exciting. I take it that Cyril must have made a dive -for the infant. Anyway, the air seemed pretty well congested with arms -and legs and things. Something bumped into the Wooster waistcoat just -around the third button, and I collapsed on to the settee and rather -lost interest in things for the moment. When I had unscrambled myself, -I found that Jeeves and the child had retired and Cyril was standing in -the middle of the room snorting a bit. - -"Who's that frightful little brute, Wooster?" - -"I don't know. I never saw him before to-day." - -"I gave him a couple of tolerably juicy buffets before he legged it. I -say, Wooster, that kid said a dashed odd thing. He yelled out something -about Jeeves promising him a dollar if he called me--er--what he said." - -It sounded pretty unlikely to me. - -"What would Jeeves do that for?" - -"It struck me as rummy, too." - -"Where would be the sense of it?" - -"That's what I can't see." - -"I mean to say, it's nothing to Jeeves what sort of a face you have!" - -"No!" said Cyril. He spoke a little coldly, I fancied. I don't know -why. "Well, I'll be popping. Toodle-oo!" - -"Pip-pip!" - -It must have been about a week after this rummy little episode that -George Caffyn called me up and asked me if I would care to go and see a -run-through of his show. "Ask Dad," it seemed, was to open out of town -in Schenectady on the following Monday, and this was to be a sort of -preliminary dress-rehearsal. A preliminary dress-rehearsal, old George -explained, was the same as a regular dress-rehearsal inasmuch as it was -apt to look like nothing on earth and last into the small hours, but -more exciting because they wouldn't be timing the piece and -consequently all the blighters who on these occasions let their angry -passions rise would have plenty of scope for interruptions, with the -result that a pleasant time would be had by all. - -The thing was billed to start at eight o'clock, so I rolled up at -ten-fifteen, so as not to have too long to wait before they began. The -dress-parade was still going on. George was on the stage, talking to a -cove in shirt-sleeves and an absolutely round chappie with big -spectacles and a practically hairless dome. I had seen George with the -latter merchant once or twice at the club, and I knew that he was -Blumenfield, the manager. I waved to George, and slid into a seat at -the back of the house, so as to be out of the way when the fighting -started. Presently George hopped down off the stage and came and joined -me, and fairly soon after that the curtain went down. The chappie at -the piano whacked out a well-meant bar or two, and the curtain went up -again. - -I can't quite recall what the plot of "Ask Dad" was about, but I do -know that it seemed able to jog along all right without much help from -Cyril. I was rather puzzled at first. What I mean is, through brooding -on Cyril and hearing him in his part and listening to his views on what -ought and what ought not to be done, I suppose I had got a sort of -impression rooted in the old bean that he was pretty well the backbone -of the show, and that the rest of the company didn't do much except go -on and fill in when he happened to be off the stage. I sat there for -nearly half an hour, waiting for him to make his entrance, until I -suddenly discovered he had been on from the start. He was, in fact, the -rummy-looking plug-ugly who was now leaning against a potted palm a -couple of feet from the O.P. side, trying to appear intelligent while -the heroine sang a song about Love being like something which for the -moment has slipped my memory. After the second refrain he began to -dance in company with a dozen other equally weird birds. A painful -spectacle for one who could see a vision of Aunt Agatha reaching for -the hatchet and old Bassington-Bassington senior putting on his -strongest pair of hob-nailed boots. Absolutely! - -The dance had just finished, and Cyril and his pals had shuffled off -into the wings when a voice spoke from the darkness on my right. - -"Pop!" - -Old Blumenfield clapped his hands, and the hero, who had just been -about to get the next line off his diaphragm, cheesed it. I peered into -the shadows. Who should it be but Jeeves's little playmate with the -freckles! He was now strolling down the aisle with his hands in his -pockets as if the place belonged to him. An air of respectful attention -seemed to pervade the building. - -"Pop," said the stripling, "that number's no good." Old Blumenfield -beamed over his shoulder. - -"Don't you like it, darling?" - -"It gives me a pain." - -"You're dead right." - -"You want something zippy there. Something with a bit of jazz to it!" - -"Quite right, my boy. I'll make a note of it. All right. Go on!" - -I turned to George, who was muttering to himself in rather an -overwrought way. - -"I say, George, old man, who the dickens is that kid?" - -Old George groaned a bit hollowly, as if things were a trifle thick. - -"I didn't know he had crawled in! It's Blumenfield's son. Now we're -going to have a Hades of a time!" - -"Does he always run things like this?" - -"Always!" - -"But why does old Blumenfield listen to him?" - -"Nobody seems to know. It may be pure fatherly love, or he may regard -him as a mascot. My own idea is that he thinks the kid has exactly the -amount of intelligence of the average member of the audience, and that -what makes a hit with him will please the general public. While, -conversely, what he doesn't like will be too rotten for anyone. The kid -is a pest, a wart, and a pot of poison, and should be strangled!" - -The rehearsal went on. The hero got off his line. There was a slight -outburst of frightfulness between the stage-manager and a Voice named -Bill that came from somewhere near the roof, the subject under -discussion being where the devil Bill's "ambers" were at that -particular juncture. Then things went on again until the moment arrived -for Cyril's big scene. - -I was still a trifle hazy about the plot, but I had got on to the fact -that Cyril was some sort of an English peer who had come over to -America doubtless for the best reasons. So far he had only had two -lines to say. One was "Oh, I say!" and the other was "Yes, by Jove!"; -but I seemed to recollect, from hearing him read his part, that pretty -soon he was due rather to spread himself. I sat back in my chair and -waited for him to bob up. - -He bobbed up about five minutes later. Things had got a bit stormy by -that time. The Voice and the stage-director had had another of their -love-feasts--this time something to do with why Bill's "blues" weren't -on the job or something. And, almost as soon as that was over, there -was a bit of unpleasantness because a flower-pot fell off a -window-ledge and nearly brained the hero. The atmosphere was -consequently more or less hotted up when Cyril, who had been hanging -about at the back of the stage, breezed down centre and toed the mark -for his most substantial chunk of entertainment. The heroine had been -saying something--I forget what--and all the chorus, with Cyril at -their head, had begun to surge round her in the restless sort of way -those chappies always do when there's a number coming along. - -Cyril's first line was, "Oh, I say, you know, you mustn't say that, -really!" and it seemed to me he passed it over the larynx with a -goodish deal of vim and _je-ne-sais-quoi._ But, by Jove, before -the heroine had time for the come-back, our little friend with the -freckles had risen to lodge a protest. - -"Pop!" - -"Yes, darling?" - -"That one's no good!" - -"Which one, darling?" - -"The one with a face like a fish." - -"But they all have faces like fish, darling." - -The child seemed to see the justice of this objection. He became more -definite. - -"The ugly one." - -"Which ugly one? That one?" said old Blumenfield, pointing to Cyril. - -"Yep! He's rotten!" - -"I thought so myself." - -"He's a pill!" - -"You're dead right, my boy. I've noticed it for some time." - -Cyril had been gaping a bit while these few remarks were in progress. -He now shot down to the footlights. Even from where I was sitting, I -could see that these harsh words had hit the old Bassington-Bassington -family pride a frightful wallop. He started to get pink in the ears, -and then in the nose, and then in the cheeks, till in about a quarter -of a minute he looked pretty much like an explosion in a tomato cannery -on a sunset evening. - -"What the deuce do you mean?" - -"What the deuce do you mean?" shouted old Blumenfield. "Don't yell at -me across the footlights!" - -"I've a dashed good mind to come down and spank that little brute!" - -"What!" - -"A dashed good mind!" - -Old Blumenfield swelled like a pumped-up tyre. He got rounder than -ever. - -"See here, mister--I don't know your darn name----!" - -"My name's Bassington-Bassington, and the jolly old -Bassington-Bassingtons--I mean the Bassington-Bassingtons aren't -accustomed----" - -Old Blumenfield told him in a few brief words pretty much what he -thought of the Bassington-Bassingtons and what they weren't accustomed -to. The whole strength of the company rallied round to enjoy his -remarks. You could see them jutting out from the wings and protruding -from behind trees. - -"You got to work good for my pop!" said the stout child, waggling his -head reprovingly at Cyril. - -"I don't want any bally cheek from you!" said Cyril, gurgling a bit. - -"What's that?" barked old Blumenfield. "Do you understand that this boy -is my son?" - -"Yes, I do," said Cyril. "And you both have my sympathy!" - -"You're fired!" bellowed old Blumenfield, swelling a good bit more. -"Get out of my theatre!" - - * * * * * - -About half-past ten next morning, just after I had finished lubricating -the good old interior with a soothing cup of Oolong, Jeeves filtered -into my bedroom, and said that Cyril was waiting to see me in the -sitting-room. - -"How does he look, Jeeves?" - -"Sir?" - -"What does Mr. Bassington-Bassington look like?" - -"It is hardly my place, sir, to criticise the facial peculiarities of -your friends." - -"I don't mean that. I mean, does he appear peeved and what not?" - -"Not noticeably, sir. His manner is tranquil." - -"That's rum!" - -"Sir?" - -"Nothing. Show him in, will you?" - -I'm bound to say I had expected to see Cyril showing a few more traces -of last night's battle. I was looking for a bit of the overwrought soul -and the quivering ganglions, if you know what I mean. He seemed pretty -ordinary and quite fairly cheerful. - -"Hallo, Wooster, old thing!" - -"Cheero!" - -"I just looked in to say good-bye." - -"Good-bye?" - -"Yes. I'm off to Washington in an hour." He sat down on the bed. "You -know, Wooster, old top," he went on, "I've been thinking it all over, -and really it doesn't seem quite fair to the jolly old guv'nor, my -going on the stage and so forth. What do you think?" - -"I see what you mean." - -"I mean to say, he sent me over here to broaden my jolly old mind and -words to that effect, don't you know, and I can't help thinking it -would be a bit of a jar for the old boy if I gave him the bird and went -on the stage instead. I don't know if you understand me, but what I -mean to say is, it's a sort of question of conscience." - -"Can you leave the show without upsetting everything?" - -"Oh, that's all right. I've explained everything to old Blumenfield, -and he quite sees my position. Of course, he's sorry to lose me--said -he didn't see how he could fill my place and all that sort of -thing--but, after all, even if it does land him in a bit of a hole, I -think I'm right in resigning my part, don't you?" - -"Oh, absolutely." - -"I thought you'd agree with me. Well, I ought to be shifting. Awfully -glad to have seen something of you, and all that sort of rot. Pip-pip!" - -"Toodle-oo!" - -He sallied forth, having told all those bally lies with the clear, -blue, pop-eyed gaze of a young child. I rang for Jeeves. You know, ever -since last night I had been exercising the old bean to some extent, and -a good deal of light had dawned upon me. - -"Jeeves!" - -"Sir?" - -"Did you put that pie-faced infant up to bally-ragging Mr. -Bassington-Bassington?" - -"Sir?" - -"Oh, you know what I mean. Did you tell him to get Mr. -Bassington-Bassington sacked from the 'Ask Dad' company?" - -"I would not take such a liberty, sir." He started to put out my -clothes. "It is possible that young Master Blumenfield may have -gathered from casual remarks of mine that I did not consider the stage -altogether a suitable sphere for Mr. Bassington-Bassington." - -"I say, Jeeves, you know, you're a bit of a marvel." - -"I endeavour to give satisfaction, sir." - -"And I'm frightfully obliged, if you know what I mean. Aunt Agatha -would have had sixteen or seventeen fits if you hadn't headed him off." - -"I fancy there might have been some little friction and unpleasantness, -sir. I am laying out the blue suit with the thin red stripe, sir. I -fancy the effect will be pleasing." - - * * * * * - -It's a rummy thing, but I had finished breakfast and gone out and got -as far as the lift before I remembered what it was that I had meant to -do to reward Jeeves for his really sporting behaviour in this matter of -the chump Cyril. It cut me to the heart to do it, but I had decided to -give him his way and let those purple socks pass out of my life. After -all, there are times when a cove must make sacrifices. I was just going -to nip back and break the glad news to him, when the lift came up, so I -thought I would leave it till I got home. - -The coloured chappie in charge of the lift looked at me, as I hopped -in, with a good deal of quiet devotion and what not. - -"I wish to thank yo', suh," he said, "for yo' kindness." - -"Eh? What?" - -"Misto' Jeeves done give me them purple socks, as you told him. Thank -yo' very much, suh!" - -I looked down. The blighter was a blaze of mauve from the ankle-bone -southward. I don't know when I've seen anything so dressy. - -"Oh, ah! Not at all! Right-o! Glad you like them!" I said. - -Well, I mean to say, what? Absolutely! - - - - -JEEVES IN THE SPRINGTIME - - -"'Morning, Jeeves," I said. - -"Good morning, sir," said Jeeves. - -He put the good old cup of tea softly on the table by my bed, and I -took a refreshing sip. Just right, as usual. Not too hot, not too -sweet, not too weak, not too strong, not too much milk, and not a drop -spilled in the saucer. A most amazing cove, Jeeves. So dashed competent -in every respect. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I mean to -say, take just one small instance. Every other valet I've ever had used -to barge into my room in the morning while I was still asleep, causing -much misery; but Jeeves seems to know when I'm awake by a sort of -telepathy. He always floats in with the cup exactly two minutes after I -come to life. Makes a deuce of a lot of difference to a fellow's day. - -"How's the weather, Jeeves?" - -"Exceptionally clement, sir." - -"Anything in the papers?" - -"Some slight friction threatening in the Balkans, sir. Otherwise, -nothing." - -"I say, Jeeves, a man I met at the club last night told me to put my -shirt on Privateer for the two o'clock race this afternoon. How about -it?" - -"I should not advocate it, sir. The stable is not sanguine." - -That was enough for me. Jeeves knows. How, I couldn't say, but he -knows. There was a time when I would laugh lightly, and go ahead, and -lose my little all against his advice, but not now. - -"Talking of shirts," I said, "have those mauve ones I ordered arrived -yet?" - -"Yes, sir. I sent them back." - -"Sent them back?" - -"Yes, sir. They would not have become you." - -Well, I must say I'd thought fairly highly of those shirtings, but I -bowed to superior knowledge. Weak? I don't know. Most fellows, no -doubt, are all for having their valets confine their activities to -creasing trousers and what not without trying to run the home; but it's -different with Jeeves. Right from the first day he came to me, I have -looked on him as a sort of guide, philosopher, and friend. - -"Mr. Little rang up on the telephone a few moments ago, sir. I informed -him that you were not yet awake." - -"Did he leave a message?" - -"No, sir. He mentioned that he had a matter of importance to discuss -with you, but confided no details." - -"Oh, well, I expect I shall be seeing him at the club." - -"No doubt, sir." - -I wasn't what you might call in a fever of impatience. Bingo Little is -a chap I was at school with, and we see a lot of each other still. He's -the nephew of old Mortimer Little, who retired from business recently -with a goodish pile. (You've probably heard of Little's Liniment--It -Limbers Up the Legs.) Bingo biffs about London on a pretty comfortable -allowance given him by his uncle, and leads on the whole a fairly -unclouded life. It wasn't likely that anything which he described as a -matter of importance would turn out to be really so frightfully -important. I took it that he had discovered some new brand of cigarette -which he wanted me to try, or something like that, and didn't spoil my -breakfast by worrying. - -After breakfast I lit a cigarette and went to the open window to -inspect the day. It certainly was one of the best and brightest. - -"Jeeves," I said. - -"Sir?" said Jeeves. He had been clearing away the breakfast things, but -at the sound of the young master's voice cheesed it courteously. - -"You were absolutely right about the weather. It is a juicy morning." - -"Decidedly, sir." - -"Spring and all that." - -"Yes, sir." - -"In the spring, Jeeves, a livelier iris gleams upon the burnished -dove." - -"So I have been informed, sir." - -"Right ho! Then bring me my whangee, my yellowest shoes, and the old -green Homburg. I'm going into the Park to do pastoral dances." - -I don't know if you know that sort of feeling you get on these days -round about the end of April and the beginning of May, when the sky's a -light blue, with cotton-wool clouds, and there's a bit of a breeze -blowing from the west? Kind of uplifted feeling. Romantic, if you know -what I mean. I'm not much of a ladies' man, but on this particular -morning it seemed to me that what I really wanted was some charming -girl to buzz up and ask me to save her from assassins or something. So -that it was a bit of an anti-climax when I merely ran into young Bingo -Little, looking perfectly foul in a crimson satin tie decorated with -horseshoes. - -"Hallo, Bertie," said Bingo. - -"My God, man!" I gargled. "The cravat! The gent's neckwear! Why? For -what reason?" - -"Oh, the tie?" He blushed. "I--er--I was given it." - -He seemed embarrassed, so I dropped the subject. We toddled along a -bit, and sat down on a couple of chairs by the Serpentine. - -"Jeeves tells me you want to talk to me about something," I said. - -"Eh?" said Bingo, with a start. "Oh yes, yes. Yes." - -I waited for him to unleash the topic of the day, but he didn't seem to -want to get going. Conversation languished. He stared straight ahead of -him in a glassy sort of manner. - -"I say, Bertie," he said, after a pause of about an hour and a quarter. - -"Hallo!" - -"Do you like the name Mabel?" - -"No." - -"No?" - -"No." - -"You don't think there's a kind of music in the word, like the wind -rustling gently through the tree-tops?" - -"No." - -He seemed disappointed for a moment; then cheered up. - -"Of course, you wouldn't. You always were a fatheaded worm without any -soul, weren't you?" - -"Just as you say. Who is she? Tell me all." - -For I realised now that poor old Bingo was going through it once again. -Ever since I have known him--and we were at school together--he has -been perpetually falling in love with someone, generally in the spring, -which seems to act on him like magic. At school he had the finest -collection of actresses' photographs of anyone of his time; and at -Oxford his romantic nature was a byword. - -"You'd better come along and meet her at lunch," he said, looking at -his watch. - -"A ripe suggestion," I said. "Where are you meeting her? At the Ritz?" - -"Near the Ritz." - -He was geographically accurate. About fifty yards east of the Ritz -there is one of those blighted tea-and-bun shops you see dotted about -all over London, and into this, if you'll believe me, young Bingo dived -like a homing rabbit; and before I had time to say a word we were -wedged in at a table, on the brink of a silent pool of coffee left -there by an early luncher. - -I'm bound to say I couldn't quite follow the development of the -scenario. Bingo, while not absolutely rolling in the stuff, has always -had a fair amount of the ready. Apart from what he got from his uncle, -I knew that he had finished up the jumping season well on the right -side of the ledger. Why, then, was he lunching the girl at this -God-forsaken eatery? It couldn't be because he was hard up. - -Just then the waitress arrived. Rather a pretty girl. - -"Aren't we going to wait----?" I started to say to Bingo, thinking it -somewhat thick that, in addition to asking a girl to lunch with him in -a place like this, he should fling himself on the foodstuffs before she -turned up, when I caught sight of his face, and stopped. - -The man was goggling. His entire map was suffused with a rich blush. He -looked like the Soul's Awakening done in pink. - -"Hallo, Mabel!" he said, with a sort of gulp. - -"Hallo!" said the girl. - -"Mabel," said Bingo, "this is Bertie Wooster, a pal of mine." - -"Pleased to meet you," she said. "Nice morning." - -"Fine," I said. - -"You see I'm wearing the tie," said Bingo. - -"It suits you beautiful," said the girl. - -Personally, if anyone had told me that a tie like that suited me, I -should have risen and struck them on the mazzard, regardless of their -age and sex; but poor old Bingo simply got all flustered with -gratification, and smirked in the most gruesome manner. - -"Well, what's it going to be to-day?" asked the girl, introducing the -business touch into the conversation. - -Bingo studied the menu devoutly. - -"I'll have a cup of cocoa, cold veal and ham pie, slice of fruit cake, -and a macaroon. Same for you, Bertie?" - -I gazed at the man, revolted. That he could have been a pal of mine all -these years and think me capable of insulting the old turn with this -sort of stuff cut me to the quick. - -"Or how about a bit of hot steak-pudding, with a sparkling limado to -wash it down?" said Bingo. - -You know, the way love can change a fellow is really frightful to -contemplate. This chappie before me, who spoke in that absolutely -careless way of macaroons and limado, was the man I had seen in happier -days telling the head-waiter at Claridge's exactly how he wanted the -_chef_ to prepare the _sole frite au gourmet aux champignons_, -and saying he would jolly well sling it back if it wasn't just right. -Ghastly! Ghastly! - -A roll and butter and a small coffee seemed the only things on the list -that hadn't been specially prepared by the nastier-minded members of -the Borgia family for people they had a particular grudge against, so I -chose them, and Mabel hopped it. - -"Well?" said Bingo rapturously. - -I took it that he wanted my opinion of the female poisoner who had just -left us. - -"Very nice," I said. - -He seemed dissatisfied. - -"You don't think she's the most wonderful girl you ever saw?" he said -wistfully. - -"Oh, absolutely!" I said, to appease the blighter. "Where did you meet -her?" - -"At a subscription dance at Camberwell." - -"What on earth were you doing at a subscription dance at Camberwell?" - -"Your man Jeeves asked me if I would buy a couple of tickets. It was in -aid of some charity or other." - -"Jeeves? I didn't know he went in for that sort of thing." - -"Well, I suppose he has to relax a bit every now and then. Anyway, he -was there, swinging a dashed efficient shoe. I hadn't meant to go at -first, but I turned up for a lark. Oh, Bertie, think what I might have -missed!" - -"What might you have missed?" I asked, the old lemon being slightly -clouded. - -"Mabel, you chump. If I hadn't gone I shouldn't have met Mabel." - -"Oh, ah!" - -At this point Bingo fell into a species of trance, and only came out of -it to wrap himself round the pie and macaroon. - -"Bertie," he said, "I want your advice." - -"Carry on." - -"At least, not your advice, because that wouldn't be much good to -anybody. I mean, you're a pretty consummate old ass, aren't you? Not -that I want to hurt your feelings, of course." - -"No, no, I see that." - -"What I wish you would do is to put the whole thing to that fellow -Jeeves of yours, and see what he suggests. You've often told me that he -has helped other pals of yours out of messes. From what you tell me, -he's by way of being the brains of the family." - -"He's never let me down yet." - -"Then put my case to him." - -"What case?" - -"My problem." - -"What problem?" - -"Why, you poor fish, my uncle, of course. What do you think my uncle's -going to say to all this? If I sprang it on him cold, he'd tie himself -in knots on the hearthrug." - -"One of these emotional Johnnies, eh?" - -"Somehow or other his mind has got to be prepared to receive the news. -But how?" - -"Ah!" - -"That's a lot of help, that 'ah'! You see, I'm pretty well dependent on -the old boy. If he cut off my allowance, I should be very much in the -soup. So you put the whole binge to Jeeves and see if he can't scare up -a happy ending somehow. Tell him my future is in his hands, and that, -if the wedding bells ring out, he can rely on me, even unto half my -kingdom. Well, call it ten quid. Jeeves would exert himself with ten -quid on the horizon, what?" - -"Undoubtedly," I said. - -I wasn't in the least surprised at Bingo wanting to lug Jeeves into his -private affairs like this. It was the first thing I would have thought -of doing myself if I had been in any hole of any description. As I have -frequently had occasion to observe, he is a bird of the ripest -intellect, full of bright ideas. If anybody could fix things for poor -old Bingo, he could. - -I stated the case to him that night after dinner. - -"Jeeves." - -"Sir?" - -"Are you busy just now?" - -"No, sir." - -"I mean, not doing anything in particular?" - -"No, sir. It is my practice at this hour to read some improving book; -but, if you desire my services, this can easily be postponed, or, -indeed, abandoned altogether." - -"Well, I want your advice. It's about Mr. Little." - -"Young Mr. Little, sir, or the elder Mr. Little, his uncle, who lives -in Pounceby Gardens?" - -Jeeves seemed to know everything. Most amazing thing. I'd been pally -with Bingo practically all my life, and yet I didn't remember ever -having heard that his uncle lived anywhere in particular. - -"How did you know he lived in Pounceby Gardens?" I said. - -"I am on terms of some intimacy with the elder Mr. Little's cook, sir. -In fact, there is an understanding." - -I'm bound to say that this gave me a bit of a start. Somehow I'd never -thought of Jeeves going in for that sort of thing. - -"Do you mean you're engaged?" - -"It may be said to amount to that, sir." - -"Well, well!" - -"She is a remarkably excellent cook, sir," said Jeeves, as though he -felt called on to give some explanation. "What was it you wished to ask -me about Mr. Little?" - -I sprang the details on him. - -"And that's how the matter stands, Jeeves," I said. "I think we ought -to rally round a trifle and help poor old Bingo put the thing through. -Tell me about old Mr. Little. What sort of a chap is he?" - -"A somewhat curious character, sir. Since retiring from business he has -become a great recluse, and now devotes himself almost entirely to the -pleasures of the table." - -"Greedy hog, you mean?" - -"I would not, perhaps, take the liberty of describing him in precisely -those terms, sir. He is what is usually called a gourmet. Very -particular about what he eats, and for that reason sets a high value on -Miss Watson's services." - -"The cook?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Well, it looks to me as though our best plan would be to shoot young -Bingo in on him after dinner one night. Melting mood, I mean to say, -and all that." - -"The difficulty is, sir, that at the moment Mr. Little is on a diet, -owing to an attack of gout." - -"Things begin to look wobbly." - -"No, sir, I fancy that the elder Mr. Little's misfortune may be turned -to the younger Mr. Little's advantage. I was speaking only the other -day to Mr. Little's valet, and he was telling me that it has become his -principal duty to read to Mr. Little in the evenings. If I were in your -place, sir, I should send young Mr. Little to read to his uncle." - -"Nephew's devotion, you mean? Old man touched by kindly action, what?" - -"Partly that, sir. But I would rely more on young Mr. Little's choice -of literature." - -"That's no good. Jolly old Bingo has a kind face, but when it comes to -literature he stops at the _Sporting Times_." - -"That difficulty may be overcome. I would be happy to select books for -Mr. Little to read. Perhaps I might explain my idea further?" - -"I can't say I quite grasp it yet." - -"The method which I advocate is what, I believe, the advertisers call -Direct Suggestion, sir, consisting as it does of driving an idea home -by constant repetition. You may have had experience of the system?" - -"You mean they keep on telling you that some soap or other is the best, -and after a bit you come under the influence and charge round the -corner and buy a cake?" - -"Exactly, sir. The same method was the basis of all the most valuable -propaganda during the recent war. I see no reason why it should not be -adopted to bring about the desired result with regard to the subject's -views on class distinctions. If young Mr. Little were to read day after -day to his uncle a series of narratives in which marriage with young -persons of an inferior social status was held up as both feasible and -admirable, I fancy it would prepare the elder Mr. Little's mind for the -reception of the information that his nephew wishes to marry a waitress -in a tea-shop." - -"_Are_ there any books of that sort nowadays? The only ones I ever -see mentioned in the papers are about married couples who find life -grey, and can't stick each other at any price." - -"Yes, sir, there are a great many, neglected by the reviewers but -widely read. You have never encountered 'All for Love,' by Rosie M. -Banks?" - -"No." - -"Nor 'A Red, Red Summer Rose,' by the same author?" - -"No." - -"I have an aunt, sir, who owns an almost complete set of Rosie M. -Banks'. I could easily borrow as many volumes as young Mr. Little might -require. They make very light, attractive reading." - -"Well, it's worth trying." - -"I should certainly recommend the scheme, sir." - -"All right, then. Toddle round to your aunt's to-morrow and grab a -couple of the fruitiest. We can but have a dash at it." - -"Precisely, sir." - - * * * * * - -Bingo reported three days later that Rosie M. Banks was the goods and -beyond a question the stuff to give the troops. Old Little had jibbed -somewhat at first at the proposed change of literary diet, he not being -much of a lad for fiction and having stuck hitherto exclusively to the -heavier monthly reviews; but Bingo had got chapter one of "All for -Love" past his guard before he knew what was happening, and after that -there was nothing to it. Since then they had finished "A Red, Red -Summer Rose," "Madcap Myrtle" and "Only a Factory Girl," and were -halfway through "The Courtship of Lord Strathmorlick." - -Bingo told me all this in a husky voice over an egg beaten up in -sherry. The only blot on the thing from his point of view was that it -wasn't doing a bit of good to the old vocal cords, which were beginning -to show signs of cracking under the strain. He had been looking his -symptoms up in a medical dictionary, and he thought he had got -"clergyman's throat." But against this you had to set the fact that he -was making an undoubted hit in the right quarter, and also that after -the evening's reading he always stayed on to dinner; and, from what he -told me, the dinners turned out by old Little's cook had to be tasted -to be believed. There were tears in the old blighter's eyes as he got -on the subject of the clear soup. I suppose to a fellow who for weeks -had been tackling macaroons and limado it must have been like Heaven. - -Old Little wasn't able to give any practical assistance at these -banquets, but Bingo said that he came to the table and had his whack of -arrowroot, and sniffed the dishes, and told stories of _entrées_ he had -had in the past, and sketched out scenarios of what he was going to do -to the bill of fare in the future, when the doctor put him in shape; so -I suppose he enjoyed himself, too, in a way. Anyhow, things seemed to -be buzzing along quite satisfactorily, and Bingo said he had got an -idea which, he thought, was going to clinch the thing. He wouldn't tell -me what it was, but he said it was a pippin. - -"We make progress, Jeeves," I said. - -"That is very satisfactory, sir." - -"Mr. Little tells me that when he came to the big scene in 'Only a -Factory Girl,' his uncle gulped like a stricken bull-pup." - -"Indeed, sir?" - -"Where Lord Claude takes the girl in his arms, you know, and says----" - -"I am familiar with the passage, sir. It is distinctly moving. It was a -great favourite of my aunt's." - -"I think we're on the right track." - -"It would seem so, sir." - -"In fact, this looks like being another of your successes. I've always -said, and I always shall say, that for sheer brain, Jeeves, you stand -alone. All the other great thinkers of the age are simply in the crowd, -watching you go by." - -"Thank you very much, sir. I endeavour to give satisfaction." - -About a week after this, Bingo blew in with the news that his uncle's -gout had ceased to trouble him, and that on the morrow he would be back -at the old stand working away with knife and fork as before. - -"And, by the way," said Bingo, "he wants you to lunch with him -tomorrow." - -"Me? Why me? He doesn't know I exist." - -"Oh, yes, he does. I've told him about you." - -"What have you told him?" - -"Oh, various things. Anyhow, he wants to meet you. And take my tip, -laddie--you go! I should think lunch to-morrow would be something -special." - -I don't know why it was, but even then it struck me that there was -something dashed odd--almost sinister, if you know what I mean--about -young Bingo's manner. The old egg had the air of one who has something -up his sleeve. - -"There is more in this than meets the eye," I said. "Why should your -uncle ask a fellow to lunch whom he's never seen?" - -"My dear old fathead, haven't I just said that I've been telling him -all about you--that you're my best pal--at school together, and all -that sort of thing?" - -"But even then--and another thing. Why are you so dashed keen on my -going?" - -Bingo hesitated for a moment. - -"Well, I told you I'd got an idea. This is it. I want you to spring the -news on him. I haven't the nerve myself." - -"What! I'm hanged if I do!" - -"And you call yourself a pal of mine!" - -"Yes, I know; but there are limits." - -"Bertie," said Bingo reproachfully, "I saved your life once." - -"When?" - -"Didn't I? It must have been some other fellow, then. Well, anyway, we -were boys together and all that. You can't let me down." - -"Oh, all right," I said. "But, when you say you haven't nerve enough -for any dashed thing in the world, you misjudge yourself. A fellow -who----" - -"Cheerio!" said young Bingo. "One-thirty to-morrow. Don't be late." - - * * * * * - -I'm bound to say that the more I contemplated the binge, the less I -liked it. It was all very well for Bingo to say that I was slated for a -magnificent lunch; but what good is the best possible lunch to a fellow -if he is slung out into the street on his ear during the soup course? -However, the word of a Wooster is his bond and all that sort of rot, so -at one-thirty next day I tottered up the steps of No. 16, Pounceby -Gardens, and punched the bell. And half a minute later I was up in the -drawing-room, shaking hands with the fattest man I have ever seen in my -life. - -The motto of the Little family was evidently "variety." Young Bingo is -long and thin and hasn't had a superfluous ounce on him since we first -met; but the uncle restored the average and a bit over. The hand which -grasped mine wrapped it round and enfolded it till I began to wonder if -I'd ever get it out without excavating machinery. - -"Mr. Wooster, I am gratified--I am proud--I am honoured." - -It seemed to me that young Bingo must have boosted me to some purpose. - -"Oh, ah!" I said. - -He stepped back a bit, still hanging on to the good right hand. - -"You are very young to have accomplished so much!" - -I couldn't follow the train of thought. The family, especially my Aunt -Agatha, who has savaged me incessantly from childhood up, have always -rather made a point of the fact that mine is a wasted life, and that, -since I won the prize at my first school for the best collection of -wild flowers made during the summer holidays, I haven't done a dam' -thing to land me on the nation's scroll of fame. I was wondering if he -couldn't have got me mixed up with someone else, when the -telephone-bell rang outside in the hall, and the maid came in to say -that I was wanted. I buzzed down, and found it was young Bingo. - -"Hallo!" said young Bingo. "So you've got there? Good man! I knew I -could rely on you. I say, old crumpet, did my uncle seem pleased to see -you?" - -"Absolutely all over me. I can't make it out." - -"Oh, that's all right. I just rang up to explain. The fact is, old man, -I know you won't mind, but I told him that you were the author of those -books I've been reading to him." - -"What!" - -"Yes, I said that 'Rosie M. Banks' was your pen-name, and you didn't -want it generally known, because you were a modest, retiring sort of -chap. He'll listen to you now. Absolutely hang on your words. A -brightish idea, what? I doubt if Jeeves in person could have thought up -a better one than that. Well, pitch it strong, old lad, and keep -steadily before you the fact that I must have my allowance raised. I -can't possibly marry on what I've got now. If this film is to end with -the slow fade-out on the embrace, at least double is indicated. Well, -that's that. Cheerio!" - -And he rang off. At that moment the gong sounded, and the genial host -came tumbling downstairs like the delivery of a ton of coals. - - * * * * * - -I always look back to that lunch with a sort of aching regret. It was -the lunch of a lifetime, and I wasn't in a fit state to appreciate it. -Subconsciously, if you know what I mean, I could see it was pretty -special, but I had got the wind up to such a frightful extent over the -ghastly situation in which young Bingo had landed me that its deeper -meaning never really penetrated. Most of the time I might have been -eating sawdust for all the good it did me. - -Old Little struck the literary note right from the start. - -"My nephew has probably told you that I have been making a close study -of your books of late?" he began. - -"Yes. He did mention it. How--er--how did you like the bally things?" - -He gazed reverently at me. - -"Mr. Wooster, I am not ashamed to say that the tears came into my eyes -as I listened to them. It amazes me that a man as young as you can have -been able to plumb human nature so surely to its depths; to play with -so unerring a hand on the quivering heart-strings of your reader; to -write novels so true, so human, so moving, so vital!" - -"Oh, it's just a knack," I said. - -The good old persp. was bedewing my forehead by this time in a pretty -lavish manner. I don't know when I've been so rattled. - -"Do you find the room a trifle warm?" - -"Oh, no, no, rather not. Just right." - -"Then it's the pepper. If my cook has a fault--which I am not prepared -to admit--it is that she is inclined to stress the pepper a trifle in -her made dishes. By the way, do you like her cooking?" - -I was so relieved that we had got off the subject of my literary output -that I shouted approval in a ringing baritone. - -"I am delighted to hear it, Mr. Wooster. I may be prejudiced, but to my -mind that woman is a genius." - -"Absolutely!" I said. - -"She has been with me seven years, and in all that time I have not -known her guilty of a single lapse from the highest standard. Except -once, in the winter of 1917, when a purist might have condemned a -certain mayonnaise of hers as lacking in creaminess. But one must make -allowances. There had been several air-raids about that time, and no -doubt the poor woman was shaken. But nothing is perfect in this world, -Mr. Wooster, and I have had my cross to bear. For seven years I have -lived in constant apprehension lest some evilly-disposed person might -lure her from my employment. To my certain knowledge she has received -offers, lucrative offers, to accept service elsewhere. You may judge of -my dismay, Mr. Wooster, when only this morning the bolt fell. She gave -notice!" - -"Good Lord!" - -"Your consternation does credit, if I may say so, to the heart of the -author of 'A Red, Red Summer Rose.' But I am thankful to say the worst -has not happened. The matter has been adjusted. Jane is not leaving -me." - -"Good egg!" - -"Good egg, indeed--though the expression is not familiar to me. I do -not remember having come across it in your books. And, speaking of your -books, may I say that what has impressed me about them even more than -the moving poignancy of the actual narrative, is your philosophy of -life. If there were more men like you, Mr. Wooster, London would be a -better place." - -This was dead opposite to my Aunt Agatha's philosophy of life, she -having always rather given me to understand that it is the presence in -it of chappies like me that makes London more or less of a plague spot; -but I let it go. - -"Let me tell you, Mr. Wooster, that I appreciate your splendid defiance -of the outworn fetishes of a purblind social system. I appreciate it! -You are big enough to see that rank is but the guinea stamp and that, -in the magnificent words of Lord Bletchmore in 'Only a Factory Girl,' -'Be her origin ne'er so humble, a good woman is the equal of the finest -lady on earth!'" - -I sat up. - -"I say! Do you think that?" - -"I do, Mr. Wooster. I am ashamed to say that there was a time when I -was like other men, a slave to the idiotic convention which we call -Class Distinction. But, since I read your books----" - -I might have known it. Jeeves had done it again. - -"You think it's all right for a chappie in what you might call a -certain social position to marry a girl of what you might describe as -the lower classes?" - -"Most assuredly I do, Mr. Wooster." - -I took a deep breath, and slipped him the good news. - -"Young Bingo--your nephew, you know--wants to marry a waitress," I -said. - -"I honour him for it," said old Little. - -"You don't object?" - -"On the contrary." - -I took another deep breath and shifted to the sordid side of the -business. - -"I hope you won't think I'm butting in, don't you know," I said, -"but--er--well, how about it?" - -"I fear I do not quite follow you." - -"Well, I mean to say, his allowance and all that. The money you're good -enough to give him. He was rather hoping that you might see your way to -jerking up the total a bit." - -Old Little shook his head regretfully. - -"I fear that can hardly be managed. You see, a man in my position is -compelled to save every penny. I will gladly continue my nephew's -existing allowance, but beyond that I cannot go. It would not be fair -to my wife." - -"What! But you're not married?" - -"Not yet. But I propose to enter upon that holy state almost -immediately. The lady who for years has cooked so well for me honoured -me by accepting my hand this very morning." A cold gleam of triumph -came into his eye. "Now let 'em try to get her away from me!" he -muttered, defiantly. - - * * * * * - -"Young Mr. Little has been trying frequently during the afternoon to -reach you on the telephone, sir," said Jeeves that night, when I got -home. - -"I'll bet he has," I said. I had sent poor old Bingo an outline of the -situation by messenger-boy shortly after lunch. - -"He seemed a trifle agitated." - -"I don't wonder. Jeeves," I said, "so brace up and bite the bullet. I'm -afraid I've bad news for you. - -"That scheme of yours--reading those books to old Mr. Little and all -that--has blown out a fuse." - -"They did not soften him?" - -"They did. That's the whole bally trouble. Jeeves, I'm sorry to say -that _fiancée_ of yours--Miss Watson, you know--the cook, you -know--well, the long and the short of it is that she's chosen riches -instead of honest worth, if you know what I mean." - -"Sir?" - -"She's handed you the mitten and gone and got engaged to old Mr. -Little!" - -"Indeed, sir?" - -"You don't seem much upset." - -"That fact is, sir, I had anticipated some such outcome." - -I stared at him. "Then what on earth did you suggest the scheme for?" - -"To tell you the truth, sir, I was not wholly averse from a severance -of my relations with Miss Watson. In fact, I greatly desired it. I -respect Miss Watson exceedingly, but I have seen for a long time that -we were not suited. Now, the _other_ young person with whom I have -an understanding----" - -"Great Scott, Jeeves! There isn't another?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"How long has this been going on?" - -"For some weeks, sir. I was greatly attracted by her when I first met -her at a subscription dance at Camberwell." - -"My sainted aunt! Not----" - -Jeeves inclined his head gravely. - -"Yes, sir. By an odd coincidence it is the same young person that young -Mr. Little--I have placed the cigarettes on the small table. Good -night, sir." - - - - -CONCEALED ART - - -If a fellow has lots of money and lots of time and lots of curiosity -about other fellows' business, it is astonishing, don't you know, what -a lot of strange affairs he can get mixed up in. Now, I have money and -curiosity and all the time there is. My name's Pepper--Reggie Pepper. -My uncle was the colliery-owner chappie, and he left me the dickens of -a pile. And ever since the lawyer slipped the stuff into my hand, -whispering "It's yours!" life seems to have been one thing after -another. - -For instance, the dashed rummy case of dear old Archie. I first ran -into old Archie when he was studying in Paris, and when he came back to -London he looked me up, and we celebrated. He always liked me because I -didn't mind listening to his theories of Art. For Archie, you must -know, was an artist. Not an ordinary artist either, but one of those -fellows you read about who are several years ahead of the times, and -paint the sort of thing that people will be educated up to by about -1999 or thereabouts. - -Well, one day as I was sitting in the club watching the traffic coming -up one way and going down the other, and thinking nothing in -particular, in blew the old boy. He was looking rather worried. - -"Reggie, I want your advice." - -"You shall have it," I said. "State your point, old top." - -"It's like this--I'm engaged to be married." - -"My dear old scout, a million con----" - -"Yes, I know. Thanks very much, and all that, but listen." - -"What's the trouble? Don't you like her?" - -A kind of rapt expression came over his face. - -"Like her! Why, she's the only----" - -He gibbered for a spell. When he had calmed down, I said, "Well then, -what's your trouble?" - -"Reggie," he said, "do you think a man is bound to tell his wife all -about his past life?" - -"Oh, well," I said, "of course, I suppose she's prepared to find that a -man has--er--sowed his wild oats, don't you know, and all that sort of -thing, and----" - -He seemed quite irritated. - -"Don't be a chump. It's nothing like that. Listen. When I came back to -London and started to try and make a living by painting, I found that -people simply wouldn't buy the sort of work I did at any price. Do you -know, Reggie, I've been at it three years now, and I haven't sold a -single picture." - -I whooped in a sort of amazed way, but I should have been far more -startled if he'd told me he _had_ sold a picture. I've seen his -pictures, and they are like nothing on earth. So far as I can make out -what he says, they aren't supposed to be. There's one in particular, -called "The Coming of Summer," which I sometimes dream about when I've -been hitting it up a shade too vigorously. It's all dots and splashes, -with a great eye staring out of the middle of the mess. It looks as if -summer, just as it was on the way, had stubbed its toe on a bomb. He -tells me it's his masterpiece, and that he will never do anything like -it again. I should like to have that in writing. - -"Well, artists eat, just the same as other people," he went on, "and -personally I like mine often and well cooked. Besides which, my sojourn -in Paris gave me a rather nice taste in light wines. The consequence -was that I came to the conclusion, after I had been back a few months, -that something had to be done. Reggie, do you by any remote chance read -a paper called _Funny Slices_?" - -"Every week." - -He gazed at me with a kind of wistful admiration. - -"I envy you, Reggie. Fancy being able to make a statement like that -openly and without fear. Then I take it you know the Doughnut family?" - -"I should say I did." - -His voice sank almost to a whisper, and he looked over his shoulder -nervously. - -"Reggie, I do them." - -"You what?" - -"I do them--draw them--paint them. I am the creator of the Doughnut -family." - -I stared at him, absolutely astounded. I was simply dumb. It was the -biggest surprise of my life. Why, dash it, the Doughnut family was the -best thing in its line in London. There is Pa Doughnut, Ma Doughnut, -Aunt Bella, Cousin Joe, and Mabel, the daughter, and they have all -sorts of slapstick adventures. Pa, Ma and Aunt Bella are pure -gargoyles; Cousin Joe is a little more nearly semi-human, and Mabel is -a perfect darling. I had often wondered who did them, for they were -unsigned, and I had often thought what a deuced brainy fellow the chap -must be. And all the time it was old Archie. I stammered as I tried to -congratulate him. - -He winced. - -"Don't gargle, Reggie, there's a good fellow," he said. "My nerves are -all on edge. Well, as I say, I do the Doughnuts. It was that or -starvation. I got the idea one night when I had a toothache, and next -day I took some specimens round to an editor. He rolled in his chair, -and told me to start in and go on till further notice. Since then I -have done them without a break. Well, there's the position. I must go -on drawing these infernal things, or I shall be penniless. The question -is, am I to tell her?" - -"Tell her? Of course you must tell her." - -"Ah, but you don't know her, Reggie. Have you ever heard of Eunice -Nugent?" - -"Not to my knowledge." - -"As she doesn't sprint up and down the joyway at the Hippodrome, I -didn't suppose you would." - -I thought this rather uncalled-for, seeing that, as a matter of fact, I -scarcely know a dozen of the Hippodrome chorus, but I made allowances -for his state of mind. - -"She's a poetess," he went on, "and her work has appeared in lots of -good magazines. My idea is that she would be utterly horrified if she -knew, and could never be quite the same to me again. But I want you to -meet her and judge for yourself. It's just possible that I am taking -too morbid a view of the matter, and I want an unprejudiced outside -opinion. Come and lunch with us at the Piccadilly tomorrow, will you?" - - * * * * * - -He was absolutely right. One glance at Miss Nugent told me that the -poor old boy had got the correct idea. I hardly know how to describe -the impression she made on me. On the way to the Pic, Archie had told -me that what first attracted him to her was the fact that she was so -utterly unlike Mabel Doughnut; but that had not prepared me for what -she really was. She was kind of intense, if you know what I mean--kind -of spiritual. She was perfectly pleasant, and drew me out about golf -and all that sort of thing; but all the time I felt that she considered -me an earthy worm whose loftier soul-essence had been carelessly left -out of his composition at birth. She made me wish that I had never seen -a musical comedy or danced on a supper table on New Year's Eve. And if -that was the impression she made on me, you can understand why poor old -Archie jibbed at the idea of bringing her _Funny Slices_, and -pointing at the Doughnuts and saying, "Me--I did it!" The notion was -absolutely out of the question. The shot wasn't on the board. I told -Archie so directly we were alone. - -"Old top," I said, "you must keep it dark." - -"I'm afraid so. But I hate the thought of deceiving her." - -"You must get used to that now you're going to be a married man," I -said. - -"The trouble is, how am I going to account for the fact that I can do -myself pretty well?" - -"Why, tell her you have private means, of course. What's your money -invested in?" - -"Practically all of it in B. and O. P. Rails. It is a devilish good -thing. A pal of mine put me onto it." - -"Tell her that you have a pile of money in B. and O. P., then. She'll -take it for granted it's a legacy. A spiritual girl like Miss Nugent -isn't likely to inquire further." - -"Reggie, I believe you're right. It cuts both ways, that spiritual gag. -I'll do it." - - * * * * * - -They were married quietly. I held the towel for Archie, and a -spectacled girl with a mouth like a rat-trap, who was something to do -with the Woman's Movement, saw fair play for Eunice. And then they went -off to Scotland for their honeymoon. I wondered how the Doughnuts were -going to get on in old Archie's absence, but it seemed that he had -buckled down to it and turned out three months' supply in advance. He -told me that long practice had enabled him to Doughnut almost without -conscious effort. When he came back to London he would give an hour a -week to them and do them on his head. Pretty soft! It seemed to me that -the marriage was going to be a success. - -One gets out of touch with people when they marry. I am not much on the -social-call game, and for nearly six months I don't suppose I saw -Archie more than twice or three times. When I did, he appeared sound in -wind and limb, and reported that married life was all to the velvet, -and that he regarded bachelors like myself as so many excrescences on -the social system. He compared me, if I remember rightly, to a wart, -and advocated drastic treatment. - -It was perhaps seven months after he had told Eunice that he endowed -her with all his worldly goods--she not suspecting what the parcel -contained--that he came to me unexpectedly one afternoon with a face so -long and sick-looking that my finger was on the button and I was -ordering brandy and soda before he had time to speak. - -"Reggie," he said, "an awful thing has happened. Have you seen the -paper today?" - -"Yes. Why?" - -"Did you read the Stock Exchange news? Did you see that some lunatic -has been jumping around with a club and hammering the stuffing out of -B. and O. P.? This afternoon they are worth practically nothing." - -"By jove! And all your money was in it. What rotten luck!" Then I -spotted the silver lining. "But, after all, it doesn't matter so very -much. What I mean is, bang go your little savings and all that sort of -thing; but, after all, you're making quite a good income, so why -worry?" - -"I might have known you would miss the point," he said. "Can't you -understand the situation? This morning at breakfast Eunice got hold of -the paper first. 'Archie,' she said, 'didn't you tell me all your money -was in B. and O. P.?' 'Yes,' I said. 'Why?' 'Then we're ruined.' Now do -you see? If I had had time to think, I could have said that I had -another chunk in something else, but I had committed myself, I have -either got to tell her about those infernal Doughnuts, or else conceal -the fact that I had money coming in." - -"Great Scot! What on earth are you going to do?" - -"I can't think. We can struggle along in a sort of way, for it appears -that she has small private means of her own. The idea at present is -that we shall live on them. We're selling the car, and trying to get -out of the rest of our lease up at the flat, and then we're going to -look about for a cheaper place, probably down Chelsea way, so as to be -near my studio. What was that stuff I've been drinking? Ring for -another of the same, there's a good fellow. In fact, I think you had -better keep your finger permanently on the bell. I shall want all -they've got." - - * * * * * - -The spectacle of a fellow human being up to his neck in the consommé is -painful, of course, but there's certainly what the advertisements at -the top of magazine stories call a "tense human interest" about it, and -I'm bound to say that I saw as much as possible of poor old Archie from -now on. His sad case fascinated me. It was rather thrilling to see him -wrestling with New Zealand mutton-hash and draught beer down at his -Chelsea flat, with all the suppressed anguish of a man who has let -himself get accustomed to delicate food and vintage wines, and think -that a word from him could send him whizzing back to the old life again -whenever he wished. But at what a cost, as they say in the novels. That -was the catch. He might hate this new order of things, but his lips -were sealed. - -I personally came in for a good deal of quiet esteem for the way in -which I stuck to him in his adversity. I don't think Eunice had thought -much of me before, but now she seemed to feel that I had formed a -corner in golden hearts. I took advantage of this to try and pave the -way for a confession on poor old Archie's part. - -"I wonder, Archie, old top," I said one evening after we had dined on -mutton-hash and were sitting round trying to forget it, "I wonder you -don't try another line in painting. I've heard that some of these -fellows who draw for the comic papers----" - -Mrs. Archie nipped me in the bud. - -"How can you suggest such a thing, Mr. Pepper? A man with Archie's -genius! I know the public is not educated up to his work, but it is -only a question of time. Archie suffers, like all pioneers, from being -ahead of his generation. But, thank Heaven, he need not sully his -genius by stooping----" - -"No, no," I said. "Sorry. I only suggested it." - -After that I gave more time than ever to trying to think of a solution. -Sometimes I would lie awake at night, and my manner towards -Wilberforce, my man, became so distrait that it almost caused a rift. -He asked me one morning which suit I would wear that day, and, by Jove, -I said, "Oh, any of them. I don't mind." There was a most frightful -silence, and I woke up to find him looking at me with such a dashed -wounded expression in his eyes that I had to tip him a couple of quid -to bring him round again. - -Well, you can't go on straining your brain like that forever without -something breaking loose, and one night, just after I had gone to bed, -I got it. Yes, by gad, absolutely got it. And I was so excited that I -hopped out from under the blankets there and then, and rang up old -Archie on the phone. - -"Archie, old scout," I said, "can the misses hear what I'm saying? Well -then, don't say anything to give the show away. Keep on saying, 'Yes? -Halloa?' so that you can tell her it was someone on the wrong wire. -I've got it, my boy. All you've got to do to solve the whole problem is -to tell her you've sold one of your pictures. Make the price as big as -you like. Come and lunch with me tomorrow at the club, and we'll settle -the details." - -There was a pause, and then Archie's voice said, "Halloa, halloa?" It -might have been a bit disappointing, only there was a tremble in it -which made me understand how happy I had made the old boy. I went back -to bed and slept like a king. - - * * * * * - -Next day we lunched together, and fixed the thing up. I have never seen -anyone so supremely braced. We examined the scheme from every angle and -there wasn't a flaw in it. The only difficulty was to hit on a -plausible purchaser. Archie suggested me, but I couldn't see it. I said -it would sound fishy. Eventually I had a brain wave, and suggested J. -Bellingwood Brackett, the American millionaire. He lives in London, and -you see his name in the papers everyday as having bought some painting -or statue or something, so why shouldn't he buy Archie's "Coming of -Summer?" And Archie said, "Exactly--why shouldn't he? And if he had had -any sense in his fat head, he would have done it long ago, dash him!" -Which shows you that dear old Archie was bracing up, for I've heard him -use much the same language in happier days about a referee. - -He went off, crammed to the eyebrows with good food and happiness, to -tell Mrs. Archie that all was well, and that the old home was saved, -and that Canterbury mutton might now be definitely considered as off -the bill of fare. - -He told me on the phone that night that he had made the price two -thousand pounds, because he needed the money, and what was two thousand -to a man who had been fleecing the widow and the orphan for forty odd -years without a break? I thought the price was a bit high, but I agreed -that J. Bellingwood could afford it. And happiness, you might say, -reigned supreme. - -I don't know when I've had such a nasty jar as I got when Wilberforce -brought me the paper in bed, and I languidly opened it and this jumped -out and bit at me: - - BELLINGWOOD BRACKETT DISCOVERS - ENGLISH GENIUS - ----- - PAYS STUPENDOUS PRICE FOR YOUNG ARTIST'S PICTURE - ----- - HITHERTO UNKNOWN FUTURIST RECEIVED £2,000 - -Underneath there was a column, some of it about Archie, the rest about -the picture; and scattered over the page were two photographs of old -Archie, looking more like Pa Doughnut than anything human, and a -smudged reproduction of "The Coming of Summer"; and, believe me, -frightful as the original of that weird exhibit looked, the -reproduction had it licked to a whisper. It was one of the ghastliest -things I have ever seen. - -Well, after the first shock I recovered a bit. After all, it was fame -for dear old Archie. As soon as I had had lunch I went down to the flat -to congratulate him. - -He was sitting there with Mrs. Archie. He was looking a bit dazed, but -she was simmering with joy. She welcomed me as the faithful friend. - -"Isn't it perfectly splendid, Mr. Pepper, to think that Archie's genius -has at last been recognized? How quiet he kept it. I had no idea that -Mr. Brackett was even interested in his work. I wonder how he heard of -it?" - -"Oh, these things get about," I said. "You can't keep a good man down." - -"Think of two thousand pounds for one picture--and the first he has -ever sold!" - -"What beats me," I said, "is how the papers got hold of it." - -"Oh, I sent it to the papers," said Mrs. Archie, in an offhand way. - -"I wonder who did the writing up," I said. - -"They would do that in the office, wouldn't they?" said Mrs. Archie. - -"I suppose they would," I said. "They are wonders at that sort of -thing." - -I couldn't help wishing that Archie would enter into the spirit of the -thing a little more and perk up, instead of sitting there looking like -a codfish. The thing seemed to have stunned the poor chappie. - -"After this, Archie," I said, "all you have to do is to sit in your -studio, while the police see that the waiting line of millionaires -doesn't straggle over the pavement. They'll fight----" - -"What's that?" said Archie, starting as if someone had dug a red-hot -needle into his calf. - -It was only a ring at the bell, followed by a voice asking if Mr. -Ferguson was at home. - -"Probably an interviewer," said Mrs. Archie. "I suppose we shall get no -peace for a long time to come." - -The door opened, and the cook came in with a card. "'Renshaw Liggett,'" -said Mrs. Archie "I don't know him. Do you, Archie? It must be an -interviewer. Ask him to come in, Julia." - -And in he came. - -My knowledge of chappies in general, after a fairly wide experience, is -that some chappies seem to kind of convey an atmosphere of -unpleasantness the moment you come into contact with them. Renshaw -Liggett gave me this feeling directly he came in; and when he fixed me -with a sinister glance and said, "Mr. Ferguson?" I felt inclined to say -"Not guilty." I backed a step or two and jerked my head towards Archie, -and Renshaw turned the searchlight off me and switched it onto him. - -"You are Mr. Archibald Ferguson, the artist?" - -Archie nodded pallidly, and Renshaw nodded, as much as to say that you -couldn't deceive him. He produced a sheet of paper. It was the middle -page of the _Mail_. - -"You authorized the publication of this?" - -Archie nodded again. - -"I represent Mr. Brackett. The publication of this most impudent -fiction has caused Mr. Brackett extreme annoyance, and, as it might -also lead to other and more serious consequences, I must insist that a -full denial be published without a moment's delay." - -"What do you mean?" cried Mrs. Archie. "Are you mad?" - -She had been standing, listening to the conversation in a sort of -trance. Now she jumped into the fight with a vim that turned Renshaw's -attention to her in a second. - -"No, madam, I am not mad. Nor, despite the interested assertions of -certain parties whom I need not specify by name, is Mr. Brackett. It -may be news to you, Mrs. Ferguson, that an action is even now pending -in New York, whereby certain parties are attempting to show that my -client, Mr. Brackett, is non compos and should be legally restrained -from exercising control over his property. Their case is extremely -weak, for even if we admit their contention that our client did, on the -eighteenth of June last, attempt to walk up Fifth Avenue in his -pyjamas, we shall be able to show that his action was the result of an -election bet. But as the parties to whom I have alluded will -undoubtedly snatch at every straw in their efforts to prove that Mr. -Brackett is mentally infirm, the prejudicial effect of this publication -cannot be over-estimated. Unless Mr. Brackett can clear himself of the -stigma of having given two thousand pounds for this extraordinary -production of an absolutely unknown artist, the strength of his case -must be seriously shaken. I may add that my client's lavish patronage -of Art is already one of the main planks in the platform of the parties -already referred to. They adduce his extremely generous expenditure in -this direction as evidence that he is incapable of a proper handling of -his money. I need scarcely point out with what sinister pleasure, -therefore, they must have contemplated--this." - -And he looked at "The Coming of Summer" as if it were a black beetle. - -I must say, much as I disliked the blighter, I couldn't help feeling -that he had right on his side. It hadn't occurred to me in quite that -light before, but, considering it calmly now, I could see that a man -who would disgorge two thousand of the best for Archie's Futurist -masterpiece might very well step straight into the nut factory, and no -questions asked. - -Mrs. Archie came right back at him, as game as you please. - -"I am sorry for Mr. Brackett's domestic troubles, but my husband can -prove without difficulty that he did buy the picture. Can't you, dear?" - -Archie, extremely white about the gills, looked at the ceiling and at -the floor and at me and Renshaw Liggett. - -"No," he said finally. "I can't. Because he didn't." - -"Exactly," said Renshaw, "and I must ask you to publish that statement -in tomorrow's papers without fail." He rose, and made for the door. "My -client has no objection to young artists advertising themselves, -realizing that this is an age of strenuous competition, but he firmly -refuses to permit them to do it at his expense. Good afternoon." - -And he legged it, leaving behind him one of the most chunky silences I -have ever been mixed up in. For the life of me, I couldn't see who was -to make the next remark. I was jolly certain that it wasn't going to be -me. - -Eventually Mrs. Archie opened the proceedings. - -"What does it mean?" - -Archie turned to me with a sort of frozen calm. - -"Reggie, would you mind stepping into the kitchen and asking Julia for -this week's _Funny Slices_? I know she has it." - -He was right. She unearthed it from a cupboard. I trotted back with it -to the sitting room. Archie took the paper from me, and held it out to -his wife, Doughnuts uppermost. - -"Look!" he said. - -She looked. - -"I do them. I have done them every week for three years. No, don't -speak yet. Listen. This is where all my money came from, all the money -I lost when B. and O. P. Rails went smash. And this is where the money -came from to buy 'The Coming of Summer.' It wasn't Brackett who bought -it; it was myself." - -Mrs. Archie was devouring the Doughnuts with wide-open eyes. I caught a -glimpse of them myself, and only just managed not to laugh, for it was -the set of pictures where Pa Doughnut tries to fix the electric light, -one of the very finest things dear old Archie had ever done. - -"I don't understand," she said. - -"I draw these things. I have sold my soul." - -"Archie!" - -He winced, but stuck to it bravely. - -"Yes, I knew how you would feel about it, and that was why I didn't -dare to tell you, and why we fixed up this story about old Brackett. I -couldn't bear to live on you any longer, and to see you roughing it -here, when we might be having all the money we wanted." - -Suddenly, like a boiler exploding, she began to laugh. - -"They're the funniest things I ever saw in my life," she gurgled. "Mr. -Pepper, do look! He's trying to cut the electric wire with the -scissors, and everything blazes up. And you've been hiding this from me -all that time!" - -Archie goggled dumbly. She dived at a table, and picked up a magazine, -pointing to one of the advertisement pages. - -"Read!" she cried. "Read it aloud." - -And in a shaking voice Archie read: - - You think you are perfectly well, don't you? You wake up in the - morning and spring out of bed and say to yourself that you have - never been better in your life. You're wrong! Unless you are - avoiding coffee as you would avoid the man who always tells you - the smart things his little boy said yesterday, and drinking - SAFETY FIRST MOLASSINE - for breakfast, you cannot be - Perfectly Well. - - It is a physical impossibility. Coffee contains an appreciable - quantity of the deadly drug caffeine, and therefore---- - -"I wrote _that_," she said. "And I wrote the advertisement of the -Spiller Baby Food on page ninety-four, and the one about the Preeminent -Breakfast Sausage on page eighty-six. Oh, Archie, dear, the torments I -have been through, fearing that you would some day find me out and -despise me. I couldn't help it. I had no private means, and I didn't -make enough out of my poetry to keep me in hats. I learned to write -advertisements four years ago at a correspondence school, and I've been -doing them ever since. And now I don't mind your knowing, now that you -have told me this perfectly splendid news. Archie!" - -She rushed into his arms like someone charging in for a bowl of soup at -a railway station buffet. And I drifted out. It seemed to me that this -was a scene in which I was not on. I sidled to the door, and slid -forth. They didn't notice me. My experience is that nobody ever -does--much. - - - - -THE TEST CASE - - -Well-meaning chappies at the club sometimes amble up to me and tap me -on the wishbone, and say "Reggie, old top,"--my name's Reggie -Pepper--"you ought to get married, old man." Well, what I mean to say -is, it's all very well, and I see their point and all that sort of -thing; but it takes two to make a marriage, and to date I haven't met a -girl who didn't seem to think the contract was too big to be taken on. - -Looking back, it seems to me that I came nearer to getting over the -home-plate with Ann Selby than with most of the others. In fact, but -for circumstances over which I had no dashed control, I am inclined to -think that we should have brought it off. I'm bound to say that, now -that what the poet chappie calls the first fine frenzy has been on the -ice for awhile and I am able to consider the thing calmly, I am deuced -glad we didn't. She was one of those strong-minded girls, and I hate to -think of what she would have done to me. - -At the time, though, I was frightfully in love, and, for quite a while -after she definitely gave me the mitten, I lost my stroke at golf so -completely that a child could have given me a stroke a hole and got -away with it. I was all broken up, and I contend to this day that I was -dashed badly treated. - -Let me give you what they call the data. - -One day I was lunching with Ann, and was just proposing to her as -usual, when, instead of simply refusing me, as she generally did, she -fixed me with a thoughtful eye and kind of opened her heart. - -"Do you know, Reggie, I am in doubt." - -"Give me the benefit of it," I said. Which I maintain was pretty good -on the spur of the moment, but didn't get a hand. She simply ignored -it, and went on. - -"Sometimes," she said, "you seem to me entirely vapid and brainless; at -other times you say or do things which suggest that there are -possibilities in you; that, properly stimulated and encouraged, you -might overcome the handicap of large private means and do something -worthwhile. I wonder if that is simply my imagination?" She watched me -very closely as she spoke. - -"Rather not. You've absolutely summed me up. With you beside me, -stimulating and all that sort of rot, don't you know, I should show a -flash of speed which would astonish you." - -"I wish I could be certain." - -"Take a chance on it." - -She shook her head. - -"I must be certain. Marriage is such a gamble. I have just been staying -with my sister Hilda and her husband----" - -"Dear old Harold Bodkin. I know him well. In fact, I've a standing -invitation to go down there and stay as long as I like. Harold is one -of my best pals. Harold is a corker. Good old Harold is----" - -"I would rather you didn't eulogize him, Reggie. I am extremely angry -with Harold. He is making Hilda perfectly miserable." - -"What on earth do you mean? Harold wouldn't dream of hurting a fly. -He's one of those dreamy, sentimental chumps who----" - -"It is precisely his sentimentality which is at the bottom of the whole -trouble. You know, of course, that Hilda is not his first wife?" - -"That's right. His first wife died about five years ago." - -"He still cherishes her memory." - -"Very sporting of him." - -"Is it! If you were a girl, how would you like to be married to a man -who was always making you bear in mind that you were only number two in -his affections; a man whose idea of a pleasant conversation was a -string of anecdotes illustrating what a dear woman his first wife was. -A man who expected you to upset all your plans if they clashed with -some anniversary connected with his other marriage?" - -"That does sound pretty rotten. Does Harold do all that?" - -"That's only a small part of what he does. Why, if you will believe me, -every evening at seven o'clock he goes and shuts himself up in a little -room at the top of the house, and meditates." - -"What on earth does he do that for?" - -"Apparently his first wife died at seven in the evening. There is a -portrait of her in the room. I believe he lays flowers in front of it. -And Hilda is expected to greet him on his return with a happy smile." - -"Why doesn't she kick?" - -"I have been trying to persuade her to, but she won't. She just -pretends she doesn't mind. She has a nervous, sensitive temperament, -and the thing is slowly crushing her. Don't talk to me of Harold." - -Considering that she had started him as a topic, I thought this pretty -unjust. I didn't want to talk of Harold. I wanted to talk about myself. - -"Well, what has all this got to do with your not wanting to marry me?" -I said. - -"Nothing, except that it is an illustration of the risks a woman runs -when she marries a man of a certain type." - -"Great Scott! You surely don't class me with Harold?" - -"Yes, in a way you are very much alike. You have both always had large -private means, and have never had the wholesome discipline of work." - -"But, dash it, Harold, on your showing, is an absolute nut. Why should -you think that I would be anything like that?" - -"There's always the risk." - -A hot idea came to me. - -"Look here, Ann," I said, "Suppose I pull off some stunt which only a -deuced brainy chappie could get away with? Would you marry me then?" - -"Certainly. What do you propose to do?" - -"Do! What do I propose to do! Well, er, to be absolutely frank, at the -moment I don't quite know." - -"You never will know, Reggie. You're one of the idle rich, and your -brain, if you ever had one, has atrophied." - -Well, that seemed to me to put the lid on it. I didn't mind a -heart-to-heart talk, but this was mere abuse. I changed the subject. - -"What would you like after that fish?" I said coldly. - -You know how it is when you get an idea. For awhile it sort of simmers -inside you, and then suddenly it sizzles up like a rocket, and there -you are, right up against it. That's what happened now. I went away -from that luncheon, vaguely determined to pull off some stunt which -would prove that I was right there with the gray matter, but without -any clear notion of what I was going to do. Side by side with this in -my mind was the case of dear old Harold. When I wasn't brooding on the -stunt, I was brooding on Harold. I was fond of the good old lad, and I -hated the idea of his slowly wrecking the home purely by being a chump. -And all of a sudden the two things clicked together like a couple of -chemicals, and there I was with a corking plan for killing two birds -with one stone--putting one across that would startle and impress Ann, -and at the same time healing the breach between Harold and Hilda. - -My idea was that, in a case like this, it's no good trying opposition. -What you want is to work it so that the chappie quits of his own -accord. You want to egg him on to overdoing the thing till he gets so -that he says to himself, "Enough! Never again!" That was what was going -to happen to Harold. - -When you're going to do a thing, there's nothing like making a quick -start. I wrote to Harold straight away, proposing myself for a visit. -And Harold wrote back telling me to come right along. - -Harold and Hilda lived alone in a large house. I believe they did a -good deal of entertaining at times, but on this occasion I was the only -guest. The only other person of note in the place was Ponsonby, the -butler. - -Of course, if Harold had been an ordinary sort of chappie, what I had -come to do would have been a pretty big order. I don't mind many -things, but I do hesitate to dig into my host's intimate private -affairs. But Harold was such a simple-minded Johnnie, so grateful for a -little sympathy and advice, that my job wasn't so very difficult. - -It wasn't as if he minded talking about Amelia, which was his first -wife's name. The difficulty was to get him to talk of anything else. I -began to understand what Ann meant by saying it was tough on Hilda. - -I'm bound to say the old boy was clay in my hands. People call me a -chump, but Harold was a super-chump, and I did what I liked with him. -The second morning of my visit, after breakfast, he grabbed me by the -arm. - -"This way, Reggie. I'm just going to show old Reggie Amelia's portrait, -dear." - -There was a little room all by itself on the top floor. He explained to -me that it had been his studio. At one time Harold used to do a bit of -painting in an amateur way. - -"There!" he said, pointing at the portrait. "I did that myself, Reggie. -It was away being cleaned when you were here last. It's like dear -Amelia, isn't it?" - -I suppose it was, in a way. At any rate, you could recognize the -likeness when you were told who it was supposed to be. - -He sat down in front of it, and gave it the thoughtful once-over. - -"Do you know, Reggie, old top, sometimes when I sit here, I feel as if -Amelia were back again." - -"It would be a bit awkward for you if she was." - -"How do you mean?" - -"Well, old lad, you happen to be married to someone else." - -A look of childlike enthusiasm came over his face. - -"Reggie, I want to tell you how splendid Hilda is. Lots of other women -might object to my still cherishing Amelia's memory, but Hilda has been -so nice about it from the beginning. She understands so thoroughly." - -I hadn't much breath left after that, but I used what I had to say: -"She doesn't object?" - -"Not a bit," said Harold. "It makes everything so pleasant." - -When I had recovered a bit, I said, "What do you mean by everything?" - -"Well," he said, "for instance, I come up here every evening at seven -and--er--think for a few minutes." - -"A few minutes?!" - -"What do you mean?" - -"Well, a few minutes isn't long." - -"But I always have my cocktail at a quarter past." - -"You could postpone it." - -"And Ponsonby likes us to start dinner at seven-thirty." - -"What on earth has Ponsonby to do with it?" - -"Well, he likes to get off by nine, you know. I think he goes off and -plays bowls at the madhouse. You see, Reggie, old man, we have to study -Ponsonby a little. He's always on the verge of giving notice--in fact, -it was only by coaxing him on one or two occasions that we got him to -stay on--and he's such a treasure that I don't know what we should do -if we lost him. But, if you think that I ought to stay longer----?" - -"Certainly I do. You ought to do a thing like this properly, or not at -all." - -He sighed. - -"It's a frightful risk, but in future we'll dine at eight." - -It seemed to me that there was a suspicion of a cloud on Ponsonby's -shining morning face, when the news was broken to him that for the -future he couldn't unleash himself on the local bowling talent as early -as usual, but he made no kick, and the new order of things began. - -My next offensive movement I attribute to a flash of absolute genius. I -was glancing through a photograph album in the drawing-room before -lunch, when I came upon a face which I vaguely remembered. It was one -of those wide, flabby faces, with bulging eyes, and something about it -struck me as familiar. I consulted Harold, who came in at that moment. - -"That?" said Harold. "That's Percy." He gave a slight shudder. -"Amelia's brother, you know. An awful fellow. I haven't seen him for -years." - -Then I placed Percy. I had met him once or twice in the old days, and I -had a brainwave. Percy was everything that poor old Harold disliked -most. He was hearty at breakfast, a confirmed back-slapper, and a man -who prodded you in the chest when he spoke to you. - -"You haven't seen him for years!" I said in a shocked voice. - -"Thank heaven!" said Harold devoutly. - -I put down the photograph album, and looked at him in a deuced serious -way. "Then it's high time you asked him to come here." - -Harold blanched. "Reggie, old man, you don't know what you are saying. -You can't remember Percy. I wish you wouldn't say these things, even in -fun." - -"I'm not saying it in fun. Of course, it's none of my business, but you -have paid me the compliment of confiding in me about Amelia, and I feel -justified in speaking. All I can say is that, if you cherish her memory -as you say you do, you show it in a very strange way. How you can -square your neglect of Percy with your alleged devotion to Amelia's -memory, beats me. It seems to me that you have no choice. You must -either drop the whole thing and admit that your love for her is dead, -or else you must stop this infernal treatment of her favorite brother. -You can't have it both ways." - -He looked at me like a hunted stag. "But, Reggie, old man! Percy! He -asks riddles at breakfast." - -"I don't care." - -"Hilda can't stand him." - -"It doesn't matter. You must invite him. It's not a case of what you -like or don't like. It's your duty." - -He struggled with his feelings for a bit. "Very well," he said in a -crushed sort of voice. - -At dinner that night he said to Hilda: "I'm going to ask Amelia's -brother down to spend a few days. It is so long since we have seen -him." - -Hilda didn't answer at once. She looked at him in rather a curious sort -of way, I thought. "Very well, dear," she said. - -I was deuced sorry for the poor girl, but I felt like a surgeon. She -would be glad later on, for I was convinced that in a very short while -poor old Harold must crack under the strain, especially after I had put -across the coup which I was meditating for the very next evening. - -It was quite simple. Simple, that is to say, in its working, but a -devilish brainy thing for a chappie to have thought out. If Ann had -really meant what she had said at lunch that day, and was prepared to -stick to her bargain and marry me as soon as I showed a burst of -intelligence, she was mine. - -What it came to was that, if dear old Harold enjoyed meditating in -front of Amelia's portrait, he was jolly well going to have all the -meditating he wanted, and a bit over, for my simple scheme was to lurk -outside till he had gone into the little room on the top floor, and -then, with the aid of one of those jolly little wedges which you use to -keep windows from rattling, see to it that the old boy remained there -till they sent out search parties. - -There wasn't a flaw in my reasoning. When Harold didn't roll in at the -sound of the dinner gong, Hilda would take it for granted that he was -doing an extra bit of meditating that night, and her pride would stop -her sending out a hurry call for him. As for Harold, when he found that -all was not well with the door, he would probably yell with -considerable vim. But it was odds against anyone hearing him. As for -me, you might think that I was going to suffer owing to the probable -postponement of dinner. Not so, but far otherwise, for on the night I -had selected for the coup I was dining out at the neighboring inn with -my old college chum Freddie Meadowes. It is true that Freddie wasn't -going to be within fifty miles of the place on that particular night, -but they weren't to know that. - -Did I describe the peculiar isolation of that room on the top floor, -where the portrait was? I don't think I did. It was, as a matter of -fact, the only room in those parts, for, in the days when he did his -amateur painting, old Harold was strong on the artistic seclusion -business and hated noise, and his studio was the only room in use on -that floor. - -In short, to sum up, the thing was a cinch. - -Punctually at ten minutes to seven, I was in readiness on the scene. -There was a recess with a curtain in front of it a few yards from the -door, and there I waited, fondling my little wedge, for Harold to walk -up and allow the proceedings to start. It was almost pitch-dark, and -that made the time of waiting seem longer. Presently--I seemed to have -been there longer than ten minutes--I heard steps approaching. They -came past where I stood, and went on into the room. The door closed, -and I hopped out and sprinted up to it, and the next moment I had the -good old wedge under the wood--as neat a job as you could imagine. And -then I strolled downstairs, and toddled off to the inn. - -I didn't hurry over my dinner, partly because the browsing and sluicing -at the inn was really astonishingly good for a roadhouse and partly -because I wanted to give Harold plenty of time for meditation. I -suppose it must have been a couple of hours or more when I finally -turned in at the front door. Somebody was playing the piano in the -drawing room. It could only be Hilda who was playing, and I had doubts -as to whether she wanted company just then--mine, at any rate. - -Eventually I decided to risk it, for I wanted to hear the latest about -dear old Harold, so in I went, and it wasn't Hilda at all; it was Ann -Selby. - -"Hello," I said. "I didn't know you were coming down here." It seemed -so odd, don't you know, as it hadn't been more than ten days or so -since her last visit. - -"Good evening, Reggie," she said. - -"What's been happening?" I asked. - -"How do you know anything has been happening?" - -"I guessed it." - -"Well, you're quite right, as it happens, Reggie. A good deal has been -happening." She went to the door, and looked out, listening. Then she -shut it, and came back. "Hilda has revolted!" - -"Revolted?" - -"Yes, put her foot down--made a stand--refused to go on meekly putting -up with Harold's insane behavior." - -"I don't understand." - -She gave me a look of pity. "You always were so dense, Reggie. I will -tell you the whole thing from the beginning. You remember what I spoke -to you about, one day when we were lunching together? Well, I don't -suppose you have noticed it--I know what you are--but things have been -getting steadily worse. For one thing, Harold insisted on lengthening -his visits to the top room, and naturally Ponsonby complained. Hilda -tells me that she had to plead with him to induce him to stay on. Then -the climax came. I don't know if you recollect Amelia's brother Percy? -You must have met him when she was alive--a perfectly unspeakable -person with a loud voice and overpowering manners. Suddenly, out of a -blue sky, Harold announced his intention of inviting him to stay. It -was the last straw. This afternoon I received a telegram from poor -Hilda, saying that she was leaving Harold and coming to stay with me, -and a few hours later the poor child arrived at my apartment." - -You mustn't suppose that I stood listening silently to this speech. -Every time she seemed to be going to stop for breath I tried to horn in -and tell her all these things which had been happening were not mere -flukes, as she seemed to think, but parts of a deuced carefully planned -scheme of my own. Every time I'd try to interrupt, Ann would wave me -down, and carry on without so much as a semi-colon. - -But at this point I did manage a word in. "I know, I know, I know! I -did it all. It was I who suggested to Harold that he should lengthen -the meditations, and insisted on his inviting Percy to stay." - -I had hardly got the words out, when I saw that they were not making -the hit I had anticipated. She looked at me with an expression of -absolute scorn, don't you know. - -"Well, really, Reggie," she said at last, "I never have had a very high -opinion of your intelligence, as you know, but this is a revelation to -me. What motive you can have had, unless you did it in a spirit of pure -mischief----" She stopped, and there was a glare of undiluted repulsion -in her eyes. "Reggie! I can't believe it! Of all the things I loathe -most, a practical joker is the worst. Do you mean to tell me you did -all this as a practical joke?" - -"Great Scott, no! It was like this----" - -I paused for a bare second to collect my thoughts, so as to put the -thing clearly to her. I might have known what would happen. She dashed -right in and collared the conversation. - -"Well, never mind. As it happens, there is no harm done. Quite the -reverse, in fact. Hilda left a note for Harold telling him what she had -done and where she had gone and why she had gone, and Harold found it. -The result was that, after Hilda had been with me for some time, in he -came in a panic and absolutely grovelled before the dear child. It -seems incredible but he had apparently had no notion that his absurd -behavior had met with anything but approval from Hilda. He went on as -if he were mad. He was beside himself. He clutched his hair and stamped -about the room, and then he jumped at the telephone and called this -house and got Ponsonby and told him to go straight to the little room -on the top floor and take Amelia's portrait down. I thought that a -little unnecessary myself, but he was in such a whirl of remorse that -it was useless to try and get him to be rational. So Hilda was -consoled, and he calmed down, and we all came down here in the -automobile. So you see----" - -At this moment the door opened, and in came Harold. - -"I say--hello, Reggie, old man--I say, it's a funny thing, but we can't -find Ponsonby anywhere." - -There are moments in a chappie's life, don't you know, when Reason, so -to speak, totters, as it were, on its bally throne. This was one of -them. The situation seemed somehow to have got out of my grip. I -suppose, strictly speaking, I ought, at this juncture, to have cleared -my throat and said in an audible tone, "Harold, old top, _I_ know -where Ponsonby is." But somehow I couldn't. Something seemed to keep -the words back. I just stood there and said nothing. - -"Nobody seems to have seen anything of him," said Harold. "I wonder -where he can have got to." - -Hilda came in, looking so happy I hardly recognized her. I remember -feeling how strange it was that anybody could be happy just then. - -"_I_ know," she said. "Of course! Doesn't he always go off to the -inn and play bowls at this time?" - -"Why, of course," said Harold. "So he does." - -And he asked Ann to play something on the piano. And pretty soon we had -settled down to a regular jolly musical evening. Ann must have played a -matter of two or three thousand tunes, when Harold got up. - -"By the way," he said. "I suppose he did what I told him about the -picture before he went out. Let's go and see." - -"Oh, Harold, what does it matter?" asked Hilda. - -"Don't be silly, Harold," said Ann. - -I would have said the same thing, only I couldn't say anything. - -Harold wasn't to be stopped. He led the way out of the room and -upstairs, and we all trailed after him. We had just reached the top -floor, when Hilda stopped, and said "Hark!" - -It was a voice. - -"Hi!" it said. "Hi!" - -Harold legged it to the door of the studio. "Ponsonby?" - -From within came the voice again, and I have never heard anything to -touch the combined pathos, dignity and indignation it managed to -condense into two words. - -"Yes, sir?" - -"What on earth are you doing in there?" - -"I came here, sir, in accordance with your instructions on the -telephone, and----" - -Harold rattled the door. "The darned thing's stuck." - -"Yes, sir." - -"How on earth did that happen?" - -"I could not say, sir." - -"How _can_ the door have stuck like this?" said Ann. - -Somebody--I suppose it was me, though the voice didn't sound -familiar--spoke. "Perhaps there's a wedge under it," said this chappie. - -"A wedge? What do you mean?" - -"One of those little wedges you use to keep windows from rattling, -don't you know." - -"But why----? You're absolutely right, Reggie, old man, there is!" - -He yanked it out, and flung the door open, and out came Ponsonby, -looking like Lady Macbeth. - -"I wish to give notice, sir," he said, "and I should esteem it a favor -if I might go to the pantry and procure some food, as I am extremely -hungry." - -And he passed from our midst, with Hilda after him, saying: "But, -Ponsonby! Be reasonable, Ponsonby!" - -Ann Selby turned on me with a swish. "Reggie," she said, "did _you_ -shut Ponsonby in there?" - -"Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I did." - -"But why?" asked Harold. - -"Well, to be absolutely frank, old top, I thought it was you." - -"You thought it was me? But why--what did you want to lock me in for?" - -I hesitated. It was a delicate business telling him the idea. And while -I was hesitating, Ann jumped in. - -"I can tell you why, Harold. It was because Reggie belongs to that -sub-species of humanity known as practical jokers. This sort of thing -is his idea of humor." - -"Humor! Losing us a priceless butler," said Harold. "If that's your -idea of----" - -Hilda came back, pale and anxious. "Harold, dear, do come and help me -reason with Ponsonby. He is in the pantry gnawing a cold chicken, and -he only stops to say 'I give notice.'" - -"Yes," said Ann. "Go, both of you. I wish to speak to Reggie alone." - -That's how I came to lose Ann. At intervals during her remarks I tried -to put my side of the case, but it was no good. She wouldn't listen. -And presently something seemed to tell me that now was the time to go -to my room and pack. Half an hour later I slid silently into the night. - -Wasn't it Shakespeare or somebody who said that the road to Hell--or -words to that effect--was paved with good intentions? If it was -Shakespeare, it just goes to prove what they are always saying about -him--that he knew a bit. Take it from one who knows, the old boy was -absolutely right. - - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Death at the Excelsior, by P. G. Wodehouse - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEATH AT THE EXCELSIOR *** - -***** This file should be named 8176-8.txt or 8176-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/7/8176/ - -Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks, and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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