THE INIMITABLE JEEVES
PART 16
CHAPTER XVI
THE DELAYED EXIT OF CLAUDE AND EUSTACE
The feeling I
had when Aunt Agatha trapped me in my lair that morning and spilled the bad
news was that my luck had broken at last. As a rule, you see, I'm not lugged
into Family Rows. On the occasions when Aunt is calling to Aunt like mastodons
bellowing across primeval swamps and Uncle James's letter about Cousin Mabel's
peculiar behaviour is being shot round the family circle ("Please read
this carefully and send it on to Jane"), the clan has a tendency to ignore
me. It's one of the advantages I get from being a bachelor—and, according to my
nearest and dearest, practically a half-witted bachelor at that. "It's no
good trying to get Bertie to take the slightest interest" is more or less
the slogan, and I'm bound to say I'm all for it. A quiet life is what I like.
And that's why I felt that the Curse had come upon me, so to speak, when Aunt
Agatha sailed into my sitting-room while I was having a placid cigarette and
started to tell me about Claude and Eustace.
"Thank
goodness," said Aunt Agatha, "arrangements have at last been made
about Eustace and Claude."
"Arrangements?"
I said, not having the foggiest.
"They sail
on Friday for South Africa. Mr. Van Alstyne, a friend of poor Emily's, has
given them berths in his firm at Johannesburg, and we are hoping
that they will settle down there and do well."
I didn't get
the thing at all.
"Friday?
The day after to-morrow, do you mean?"
"Yes."
"For South
Africa?"
"Yes. They
leave on the Edinburgh Castle."
"But
what's the idea? I mean, aren't they in the middle of their term at
Oxford?"
Aunt Agatha
looked at me coldly.
"Do you
positively mean to tell me, Bertie, that you take so little interest in the
affairs of your nearest relatives that you are not aware that Claude and
Eustace were expelled from Oxford over a fortnight ago?"
"No,
really?"
"You are
hopeless, Bertie. I should have thought that even you——"
"Why were
they sent down?"
"They
poured lemonade on the Junior Dean of their college.... I see nothing amusing
in the outrage, Bertie."
"No, no,
rather not," I said hurriedly. "I wasn't laughing. Choking. Got
something stuck in my throat, you know."
"Poor
Emily," went on Aunt Agatha, "being one of those doting mothers who
are the ruin of their children, wished to keep the boys in London. She suggested
that they might cram for the Army. But I was firm. The Colonies are the only
place for wild youths like Eustace and Claude. So they sail on Friday. They
have been staying for the last two weeks with your Uncle Clive in
Worcestershire. They will spend to-morrow night in London and catch the
boat-train on Friday morning."
"Bit
risky, isn't it? I mean, aren't they apt
to cut loose a bit to-morrow
night if they're left all alone in London?"
"They will
not be alone. They will be in your charge."
"Mine!"
"Yes. I
wish you to put them up in your flat for the night, and see that they do not
miss the train in the morning."
"Oh, I
say, no!"
"Bertie!"
"Well, I
mean, quite jolly coves both of them, but I don't know. They're rather nuts,
you know—— Always glad to see them, of course, but when it comes to putting
them up for the night——"
"Bertie,
if you are so sunk in callous self-indulgence that you cannot even put yourself
to this trifling inconvenience for the sake of——"
"Oh, all
right," I said. "All right."
It was no good
arguing, of course. Aunt Agatha always makes me feel as if I had gelatine where
my spine ought to be. She's one of those forceful females. I should think Queen
Elizabeth must have been something like her. When she holds me with her glittering
eye and says, "Jump to it, my lad," or words to that effect, I make
it so without further discussion.
When she had
gone, I rang for Jeeves to break the news to him.
"Oh,
Jeeves," I said, "Mr. Claude and Mr. Eustace will be staying here
to-morrow night."
"Very
good, sir."
"I'm glad
you think so. To me the outlook seems black and scaly. You know what those two
lads are!"
"Very
high-spirited young gentlemen, sir."
"Blisters,
Jeeves. Undeniable blisters. It's a bit thick!"
"Would
there be anything further, sir?"
At that, I'm
bound to say, I drew myself up a trifle haughtily. We Woosters freeze like the
dickens when we seek sympathy and meet with cold reserve. I knew what was up,
of course. For the last day or so there had been a certain amount of coolness
in the home over a pair of jazz spats which I had dug up while exploring in the
Burlington Arcade. Some dashed brainy cove, probably the chap who invented
those coloured cigarette-cases, had recently had the rather topping idea of
putting out a line of spats on the same system. I mean to say, instead of the
ordinary grey and white, you can now get them in your regimental or school
colours. And, believe me, it would have taken a chappie of stronger fibre than
I am to resist the pair of Old Etonian spats which had smiled up at me from
inside the window. I was inside the shop, opening negotiations, before it had
even occurred to me that Jeeves might not approve. And I must say he had taken
the thing a bit hardly. The fact of the matter is, Jeeves, though in many ways
the best valet in London, is too conservative. Hide-bound, if you know what I
mean, and an enemy to Progress.
"Nothing
further, Jeeves," I said, with quiet dignity.
"Very
good, sir."
He gave one
frosty look at the spats and biffed off. Dash him!
*
* *
* *
Anything
merrier and brighter than the Twins, when they curveted into the old flat while
I was dressing for dinner the next night, I have never struck in my whole puff.
I'm only about half a dozen years older than Claude and Eustace, but in some rummy manner they always make me feel
as if I were well on in the grandfather class and just waiting for the end.
Almost before I realised they were in the place, they had collared the best
chairs, pinched a couple of my special cigarettes, poured themselves out a
whisky-and-soda apiece, and started to prattle with the gaiety and abandon of
two birds who had achieved their life's ambition instead of having come a most
frightful purler and being under sentence of exile.
"Hallo,
Bertie, old thing," said Claude. "Jolly decent of you to put us
up."
"Oh,
no," I said. "Only wish you were staying a good long time."
"Hear
that, Eustace? He wishes we were staying a good long time."
"I expect
it will seem a good long time," said Eustace, philosophically.
"You heard
about the binge, Bertie? Our little bit of trouble, I mean?"
"Oh, yes.
Aunt Agatha was telling me."
"We leave
our country for our country's good," said Eustace.
"And let
there be no moaning at the bar," said Claude, "when I put out to sea.
What did Aunt Agatha tell you?"
"She said
you poured lemonade on the Junior Dean."
"I wish
the deuce," said Claude, annoyed, "that people would get these things
right. It wasn't the Junior Dean. It was the Senior Tutor."
"And it
wasn't lemonade," said Eustace. "It was soda-water. The dear old
thing happened to be standing just under our window while I was leaning out
with a siphon in my hand. He looked up, and—well, it would have been chucking
away the opportunity of a lifetime if I hadn't let
him have it in the eyeball."
"Simply
chucking it away," agreed Claude.
"Might
never have occurred again," said Eustace.
"Hundred
to one against it," said Claude.
"Now
what," said Eustace, "do you propose to do, Bertie, in the way of
entertaining the handsome guests to-night?"
"My idea
was to have a bite of dinner in the flat," I said. "Jeeves is getting
it ready now."
"And
afterwards?"
"Well, I
thought we might chat of this and that, and then it struck me that you would
probably like to turn in early, as your train goes about ten or something,
doesn't it?"
The twins
looked at each other in a pitying sort of way.
"Bertie,"
said Eustace, "you've got the programme nearly right, but not quite. I
envisage the evening's events thus: We will toddle along to Ciro's after
dinner. It's an extension night, isn't it? Well, that will see us through till
about two-thirty or three."
"After
which, no doubt," said Claude, "the Lord will provide."
"But I
thought you would want to get a good night's rest."
"Good
night's rest!" said Eustace. "My dear old chap, you don't for a
moment imagine that we are dreaming of going to bed to-night, do
you?"
I suppose the
fact of the matter is, I'm not the man I was. I mean, these all-night vigils
don't seem to fascinate me as they used to a few years ago. I can remember the
time, when I was up at Oxford, when a Covent Garden ball till six in the morning,
with breakfast at the Hammams and probably a free fight with a few selected costermongers to follow, seemed to me what the
doctor ordered. But nowadays two o'clock is about my limit; and by two o'clock
the twins were just settling down and beginning to go nicely.
As far as I can
remember, we went on from Ciro's to play chemmy with some fellows I don't
recall having met before, and it must have been about nine in the morning when
we fetched up again at the flat. By which time, I'm bound to admit, as far as I
was concerned the first careless freshness was beginning to wear off a bit. In
fact, I'd got just enough strength to say good-bye to the twins, wish them a
pleasant voyage and a happy and successful career in South Africa, and stagger
into bed. The last I remember was hearing the blighters chanting like larks
under the cold shower, breaking off from time to time to shout to Jeeves to
rush along the eggs and bacon.
It must have
been about one in the afternoon when I woke. I was feeling more or less like
something the Pure Food Committee had rejected, but there was one bright thought
which cheered me up, and that was that about now the twins would be leaning on
the rail of the liner, taking their last glimpse of the dear old homeland.
Which made it all the more of a shock when the door opened and Claude walked
in.
"Hallo,
Bertie!" said Claude. "Had a nice refreshing sleep? Now, what about a
good old bite of lunch?"
I'd been having
so many distorted nightmares since I had dropped off to sleep that for half a
minute I thought this was simply one more of them, and the worst of the lot. It
was only when Claude sat down on my feet that I got on to the fact that this
was stern reality.
"Great
Scott! What on earth are you doing here?" I gurgled.
Claude looked
at me reproachfully.
"Hardly
the tone I like to hear in a host, Bertie," he said reprovingly.
"Why, it was only last night that you were saying you wished I was
stopping a good long time. Your dream has come true. I am!"
"But why
aren't you on your way to South Africa?"
"Now
that," said Claude, "is a point I rather thought you would want to
have explained. It's like this, old man. You remember that girl you introduced
me to at Ciro's last night?"
"Which
girl?"
"There was
only one," said Claude coldly. "Only one that counted, that is to
say. Her name was Marion Wardour. I danced with her a good deal, if you
remember."
I began to
recollect in a hazy sort of way. Marion Wardour has been a pal of mine for some
time. A very good sort. She's playing in that show at the Apollo at the moment.
I remembered now that she had been at Ciro's with a party the night before, and
the twins had insisted on being introduced.
"We are
soul-mates, Bertie," said Claude. "I found it out quite early in the
p.m., and the more thought I've given to the matter the more convinced I've
become. It happens like that now and then, you know. Two hearts that beat as
one, I mean, and all that sort of thing. So the long and the short of it is
that I gave old Eustace the slip at Waterloo and slid back here. The idea of
going to South Africa and leaving a girl like that in England doesn't appeal to
me a bit. I'm all for thinking imperially and giving the Colonies a leg-up and
all that sort of thing; but it can't be done. After all,"
said Claude reasonably, "South Africa has got along all right without me
up till now, so why shouldn't it stick it?"
"But what
about Van Alstyne, or whatever his name is? He'll be expecting you to turn
up."
"Oh, he'll
have Eustace. That'll satisfy him. Very sound fellow, Eustace. Probably end up
by being a magnate of some kind. I shall watch his future progress with
considerable interest. And now you must excuse me for a moment, Bertie. I want
to go and hunt up Jeeves and get him to mix me one of those pick-me-ups of his.
For some reason which I can't explain, I've got a slight headache this
morning."
And, believe me
or believe me not, the door had hardly closed behind him when in blew Eustace
with a shining morning face that made me ill to look at.
"Oh, my
aunt!" I said.
Eustace started
to giggle pretty freely.
"Smooth
work, Bertie, smooth work!" he said. "I'm sorry for poor old Claude,
but there was no alternative. I eluded his vigilance at Waterloo and snaked off
in a taxi. I suppose the poor old ass is wondering where the deuce I've got to.
But it couldn't be helped. If you really seriously expected me to go slogging
off to South Africa, you shouldn't have introduced me to Miss Wardour last
night. I want to tell you all about that, Bertie. I'm not a man," said
Eustace, sitting down on the bed, "who falls in love with every girl he
sees. I suppose 'strong, silent,' would be the best description you could find
for me. But when I do meet my affinity I don't waste time. I——"
"Oh,
heaven! Are you in love with Marion Wardour, too?"
"Too? What
do you mean, 'too'?"
I was going to
tell him about Claude, when the blighter came in in person, looking like a
giant refreshed. There's no doubt that Jeeves's pick-me-ups will produce
immediate results in anything short of an Egyptian mummy. It's something he
puts in them—the Worcester sauce or something. Claude had revived like a
watered flower, but he nearly had a relapse when he saw his bally brother
goggling at him over the bed-rail.
"What on
earth are you doing here?" he said.
"What on
earth are you doing here?" said Eustace.
"Have you
come back to inflict your beastly society upon Miss Wardour?"
"Is that
why you've come back?"
They thrashed
the subject out a bit further.
"Well,"
said Claude at last. "I suppose it can't be helped. If you're here, you're
here. May the best man win!"
"Yes, but
dash it all!" I managed to put in at this point. "What's the idea?
Where do you think you're going to stay if you stick on in London?"
"Why,
here," said Eustace, surprised.
"Where
else?" said Claude, raising his eyebrows.
"You won't
object to putting us up, Bertie?" said Eustace.
"Not a
sportsman like you," said Claude.
"But, you
silly asses, suppose Aunt Agatha finds out that I'm hiding you when you ought
to be in South Africa? Where do I get off?"
"Where does
he get off?" Claude asked Eustace.
"Oh, I
expect he'll manage somehow," said Eustace to Claude.
"Of
course," said Claude, quite cheered up. "He'll manage."
"Rather!"
said Eustace. "A resourceful chap like Bertie! Of course he will."
"And
now," said Claude, shelving the subject, "what about that bite of
lunch we were discussing a moment ago, Bertie? That stuff good old Jeeves slipped
into me just now has given me what you might call an appetite. Something in the
nature of six chops and a batter pudding would about meet the case, I
think."
I suppose every
chappie in the world has black periods in his life to which he can't look back
without the smouldering eye and the silent shudder. Some coves, if you can
judge by the novels you read nowadays, have them practically all the time; but,
what with enjoying a sizable private income and a topping digestion, I'm bound
to say it isn't very often I find my own existence getting a flat tyre. That's
why this particular epoch is one that I don't think about more often than I can
help. For the days that followed the unexpected resurrection of the blighted
twins were so absolutely foul that the old nerves began to stick out of my body
a foot long and curling at the ends. All of a twitter, believe me. I imagine
the fact of the matter is that we Woosters are so frightfully honest and open
and all that, that it gives us the pip to have to deceive.
All was quiet
along the Potomac for about twenty-four hours, and then Aunt Agatha trickled in
to have a chat. Twenty minutes earlier and she would have found the twins gaily
shoving themselves outside a couple of rashers and an egg. She sank into a
chair, and I could see that she was not in her usual sunny spirits.
"Bertie,"
she said, "I am uneasy."
So was I. I
didn't know how long she intended to stop, or when the twins were coming back.
"I
wonder," she said, "if I took too harsh a view towards Claude and
Eustace."
"You
couldn't."
"What do
you mean?"
"I—er—mean
it would be so unlike you to be harsh to anybody, Aunt Agatha." And not
bad, either. I mean, quick—like that—without thinking. It pleased the old
relative, and she looked at me with slightly less loathing than she usually
does.
"It is
nice of you to say that, Bertie, but what I was thinking was, are they safe?"
"Are they what?"
It seemed such
a rummy adjective to apply to the twins, they being about as innocuous as a
couple of sprightly young tarantulas.
"Do you
think all is well with them?"
"How do
you mean?"
Aunt Agatha
eyed me almost wistfully.
"Has it
ever occurred to you, Bertie," she said, "that your Uncle George may
be psychic?"
She seemed to
me to be changing the subject.
"Psychic?"
"Do you
think it is possible that he could see things not visible to the normal
eye?"
I thought it
dashed possible, if not probable. I don't know if you've ever met my Uncle George.
He's a festive old egg who wanders from club to club continually having a
couple with other festive old eggs. When he heaves in sight, waiters brace
themselves up and the wine-steward toys with his corkscrew. It was my Uncle
George who discovered that alcohol was a food well in advance of modern medical
thought.
"Your
Uncle George was dining with me last night, and he was quite shaken. He
declares that, while on his way from the Devonshire Club to Boodle's he
suddenly saw the phantasm of Eustace."
"The what
of Eustace?"
"The
phantasm. The wraith. It was so clear that he thought for an instant that it
was Eustace himself. The figure vanished round a corner, and when Uncle George
got there nothing was to be seen. It is all very queer and disturbing. It had a
marked effect on poor George. All through dinner he touched nothing but
barley-water, and his manner was quite disturbed. You do think those poor, dear
boys are safe, Bertie? They have not met with some horrible accident?"
It made my
mouth water to think of it, but I said no, I didn't think they had met with any
horrible accident. I thought Eustace was a horrible accident, and Claude
about the same, but I didn't say so. And presently she biffed off, still
worried.
When the twins
came in, I put it squarely to the blighters. Jolly as it was to give Uncle
George shocks, they must not wander at large about the metrop.
"But, my
dear old soul," said Claude. "Be reasonable. We can't have our
movements hampered."
"Out of the
question," said Eustace.
"The whole
essence of the thing, if you understand me," said Claude, "is that we
should be at liberty to flit hither and thither."
"Exactly,"
said Eustace. "Now hither, now thither."
"But, damn
it——"
"Bertie!"
said Eustace reprovingly. "Not before the boy!"
"Of
course, in a way I see his point," said Claude. "I suppose the
solution of the problem would be to buy a couple of disguises."
"My dear
old chap!" said Eustace, looking at him with admiration. "The
brightest idea on record. Not your own, surely?"
"Well, as
a matter of fact, it was Bertie who put it into my head."
"Me!"
"You were
telling me the other day about old Bingo Little and the beard he bought when he
didn't want his uncle to recognise him."
"If you
think I'm going to have you two excrescences popping in and out of my flat in
beards——"
"Something
in that," agreed Eustace. "We'll make it whiskers, then."
"And false
noses," said Claude.
"And, as
you say, false noses. Right-o, then, Bertie, old chap, that's a load off your
mind. We don't want to be any trouble to you while we're paying you this little
visit."
And, when I
went buzzing round to Jeeves for consolation, all he would say was something
about Young Blood. No sympathy.
"Very
good, Jeeves," I said. "I shall go for a walk in the Park. Kindly put
me out the Old Etonian spats."
"Very
good, sir."
*
* *
* *
It must have
been a couple of days after that that Marion Wardour rolled in at about the
hour of tea. She looked warily round the room before sitting down.
"Your
cousins not at home, Bertie?" she said.
"No, thank
goodness!"
"Then I'll
tell you where they are. They're in my sitting-room, glaring at each other from
opposite corners, waiting for me to come in. Bertie, this has got to
stop."
"You're
seeing a good deal of them, are you?"
Jeeves came in
with the tea, but the poor girl was so worked up that she didn't wait for him
to pop off before going on with her complaint.
She had an absolutely hunted air, poor thing.
"I can't
move a step without tripping over one or both of them," she said.
"Generally both. They've taken to calling together, and they just settle
down grimly and try to sit each other out. It's wearing me to a shadow."
"I
know," I said sympathetically. "I know."
"Well,
what's to be done?"
"It beats
me. Couldn't you tell your maid to say you are not at home?"
She shuddered
slightly.
"I tried
that once. They camped on the stairs, and I couldn't get out all the afternoon.
And I had a lot of particularly important engagements. I wish you would
persuade them to go to South Africa, where they seem to be wanted."
"You must
have made the dickens of an impression on them."
"I should
say I have. They've started giving me presents now. At least, Claude has. He
insisted on my accepting this cigarette-case last night. Came round to the
theatre and wouldn't go away till I took it. It's not a bad one, I must
say."
It wasn't. It
was a distinctly fruity concern in gold with a diamond stuck in the middle. And
the rummy thing was that I had a notion I'd seen something very like it before
somewhere. How the deuce Claude had been able to dig up the cash to buy a thing
like that was more than I could imagine.
Next day was a
Wednesday, and as the object of their devotion had a matinée, the twins
were, so to speak, off duty. Claude had gone with his whiskers on to Hurst
Park, and Eustace and I were in the flat, talking. At least, he was talking and
I was wishing he would go.
"The love
of a good woman, Bertie," he was saying, "must be a wonderful thing.
Sometimes—— Good Lord! what's that?"
The front door
had opened, and from out in the hall there came the sound of Aunt Agatha's
voice asking if I was in. Aunt Agatha has one of those high, penetrating
voices, but this was the first time I'd ever been thankful for it. There was
just about two seconds to clear the way for her, but it was long enough for
Eustace to dive under the sofa. His last shoe had just disappeared when she
came in.
She had a
worried look. It seemed to me about this time that everybody had.
"Bertie,"
she said, "what are your immediate plans?"
"How do
you mean? I'm dining to-night with——"
"No, no, I
don't mean to-night. Are you busy for the next few days? But, of course you are
not," she went on, not waiting for me to answer. "You never have
anything to do. Your whole life is spent in idle—but we can go into that later.
What I came for this afternoon was to tell you that I wish you to go with your
poor Uncle George to Harrogate for a few weeks. The sooner you can start, the
better."
This appeared
to me to approximate so closely to the frozen limit that I uttered a yelp of
protest. Uncle George is all right, but he won't do. I was trying to say as
much when she waved me down.
"If you
are not entirely heartless, Bertie, you will do as I ask you. Your poor Uncle
George has had a severe shock."
"What,
another!"
"He feels
that only complete rest and careful medical attendance can restore his nervous
system to its normal poise. It seems that in the past he has derived
benefit from taking the waters at Harrogate, and he wishes to go there now. We
do not think he ought to be alone, so I wish you to accompany him."
"But, I
say!"
"Bertie!"
There was a
lull in the conversation.
"What
shock has he had?" I asked.
"Between
ourselves," said Aunt Agatha, lowering her voice in an impressive manner,
"I incline to think that the whole affair was the outcome of an
over-excited imagination. You are one of the family, Bertie, and I can speak freely
to you. You know as well as I do that your poor Uncle George has for many years
not been a—he has—er—developed a habit of—how shall I put it?"
"Shifting
it a bit?"
"I beg
your pardon?"
"Mopping
up the stuff to some extent?"
"I dislike
your way of putting it exceedingly, but I must confess that he has not been,
perhaps, as temperate as he should. He is highly-strung, and—— Well, the fact
is, that he has had a shock."
"Yes, but
what?"
"That is
what it is so hard to induce him to explain with any precision. With all his
good points, your poor Uncle George is apt to become incoherent when strongly
moved. As far as I could gather, he appears to have been the victim of a
burglary."
"Burglary!"
"He says
that a strange man with whiskers and a peculiar nose entered his rooms in
Jermyn Street during his absence and stole some of his property. He says that
he came back and found the man in his sitting-room. He immediately rushed out
of the room and disappeared."
"Uncle
George?"
"No, the
man. And, according to your Uncle George, he had stolen a valuable
cigarette-case. But, as I say, I am inclined to think that the whole thing was
imagination. He has not been himself since the day when he fancied that he saw
Eustace in the street. So I should like you, Bertie, to be prepared to start
for Harrogate with him not later than Saturday."
She popped off,
and Eustace crawled out from under the sofa. The blighter was strongly moved.
So was I, for the matter of that. The idea of several weeks with Uncle George at
Harrogate seemed to make everything go black.
"So that's
where he got that cigarette-case, dash him!" said Eustace bitterly.
"Of all the dirty tricks! Robbing his own flesh and blood! The fellow
ought to be in chokey."
"He ought
to be in South Africa," I said. "And so ought you."
And with an
eloquence which rather surprised me, I hauled up my slacks for perhaps ten
minutes on the subject of his duty to his family and what not. I appealed to
his sense of decency. I boosted South Africa with vim. I said everything I
could think of, much of it twice over. But all the blighter did was to babble
about his dashed brother's baseness in putting one over on him in the matter of
the cigarette-case. He seemed to think that Claude, by slinging in the handsome
gift, had got right ahead of him; and there was a painful scene when the latter
came back from Hurst Park. I could hear them talking half the night, long after
I had tottered off to bed. I don't know when I've met fellows who could do with
less sleep than those two.
*
* *
* *
After this,
things became a bit strained at the flat owing to Claude and Eustace not being
on speaking terms. I'm all for a certain chumminess in the home, and it was
wearing to have to live with two fellows who wouldn't admit that the other one
was on the map at all.
One felt the
thing couldn't go on like that for long, and, by Jove, it didn't. But, if
anyone had come to me the day before and told me what was going to happen, I
should simply have smiled wanly. I mean, I'd got so accustomed to thinking that
nothing short of a dynamite explosion could ever dislodge those two nestlers
from my midst that, when Claude sidled up to me on the Friday morning and told
me his bit of news, I could hardly believe I was hearing right.
"Bertie,"
he said, "I've been thinking it over."
"What
over?" I said.
"The whole
thing. This business of staying in London when I ought to be in South Africa.
It isn't fair," said Claude warmly. "It isn't right. And the long and
the short of it is, Bertie, old man, I'm leaving to-morrow."
I reeled in my
tracks.
"You
are?" I gasped.
"Yes.
If," said Claude, "you won't mind sending old Jeeves out to buy a
ticket for me. I'm afraid I'll have to stick you for the passage money, old
man. You don't mind?"
"Mind!"
I said, clutching his hand fervently.
"That's
all right, then. Oh, I say, you won't say a word to Eustace about this, will
you?"
"But isn't
he going, too?"
Claude
shuddered.
"No, thank
heaven! The idea of being cooped up on board a ship with that blighter gives me
the pip just to think of it. No, not a word to Eustace. I
say, I suppose you can get me a berth all right at such short notice?"
"Rather!"
I said. Sooner than let this opportunity slip, I would have bought the bally
boat.
"Jeeves,"
I said, breezing into the kitchen. "Go out on first speed to the
Union-Castle offices and book a berth on to-morrow's boat for Mr. Claude. He is
leaving us, Jeeves."
"Yes,
sir."
"Mr.
Claude does not wish any mention of this to be made to Mr. Eustace."
"No, sir.
Mr. Eustace made the same proviso when he desired me to obtain a berth on
to-morrow's boat for himself."
I gaped at the
man.
"Is he going,
too?"
"Yes,
sir."
"This is
rummy."
"Yes,
sir."
Had
circumstances been other than they were, I would at this juncture have unbent
considerably towards Jeeves. Frisked round him a bit and whooped to a certain
extent, and what not. But those spats still formed a barrier, and I regret to
say that I took the opportunity of rather rubbing it in a bit on the man. I
mean, he'd been so dashed aloof and unsympathetic, though perfectly aware that
the young master was in the soup and that it was up to him to rally round, that
I couldn't help pointing out how the happy ending had been snaffled without any
help from him.
"So that's
that, Jeeves," I said. "The episode is concluded. I knew things would
sort themselves out if one gave them time and didn't get rattled. Many chaps in
my place would have got rattled, Jeeves."
"Yes,
sir."
"Gone
rushing about, I mean, asking people for help and advice and so forth."
"Very
possibly, sir."
"But not
me, Jeeves."
"No,
sir."
I left him to
brood on it.
*
* *
* *
Even the
thought that I'd got to go to Harrogate with Uncle George couldn't depress me
that Saturday when I gazed about the old flat and realised that Claude and
Eustace weren't in it. They had slunk off stealthily and separately immediately
after breakfast, Eustace to catch the boat-train at Waterloo, Claude to go
round to the garage where I kept my car. I didn't want any chance of the two
meeting at Waterloo and changing their minds, so I had suggested to Claude that
he might find it pleasanter to drive down to Southampton.
I was lying
back on the old settee, gazing peacefully up at the flies on the ceiling and
feeling what a wonderful world this was, when Jeeves came in with a letter.
"A
messenger-boy has brought this, sir."
I opened the
envelope, and the first thing that fell out was a five-pound note.
"Great
Scott!" I said. "What's all this?"
The letter was
scribbled in pencil, and was quite brief:
Dear
Bertie,—Will you give enclosed to your man, and tell him I wish I could make it
more. He has saved my life. This is the first happy day I've had for a week.
Yours,
M. W.
M. W.
Jeeves was
standing holding out the fiver, which had fluttered to the floor.
"You'd
better stick to it," I said. "It seems to be for you."
"Sir?"
"I say
that fiver is for you, apparently. Miss Wardour sent it."
"That was
extremely kind of her, sir."
"What the
dickens is she sending you fivers for? She says you saved her life."
Jeeves smiled
gently.
"She
over-estimates my services, sir."
"But what were
your services, dash it?"
"It was in
the matter of Mr. Claude and Mr. Eustace, sir. I was hoping that she would not
refer to the matter, as I did not wish you to think that I had been taking a
liberty."
"What do
you mean?"
"I chanced
to be in the room while Miss Wardour was complaining with some warmth of the
manner in which Mr. Claude and Mr. Eustace were thrusting their society upon
her. I felt that in the circumstances it might be excusable if I suggested a
slight ruse to enable her to dispense with their attentions."
"Good
Lord! You don't mean to say you were at the bottom of their popping off, after
all!"
Silly ass it
made me feel. I mean, after rubbing it in to him like that about having clicked
without his assistance.
"It
occurred to me that, were Miss Wardour to inform Mr. Claude and Mr. Eustace
independently that she proposed sailing for South Africa to take up a
theatrical engagement, the desired effect might be produced. It appears that my
anticipations were correct, sir. The young gentlemen ate it, if I may use the
expression."
"Jeeves,"
I said—we Woosters may make bloomers, but we are never too proud to admit
it—"you stand alone!"
"Thank you
very much, sir."
"Oh, but I
say!" A ghastly thought had struck me. "When they get on the boat and
find she isn't there, won't they come buzzing back?"
"I
anticipated that possibility, sir. At my suggestion, Miss Wardour informed the
young gentlemen that she proposed to travel overland to Madeira and join the
vessel there."
"And where
do they touch after Madeira?"
"Nowhere,
sir."
For a moment I
just lay back, letting the idea of the thing soak in. There seemed to me to be
only one flaw.
"The only
pity is," I said, "that on a large boat like that they will be able
to avoid each other. I mean, I should have liked to feel that Claude was having
a good deal of Eustace's society and vice versa."
"I fancy
that that will be so, sir. I secured a two-berth stateroom. Mr. Claude will
occupy one berth, Mr. Eustace the other."
I sighed with
pure ecstasy. It seemed a dashed shame that on this joyful occasion I should
have to go off to Harrogate with my Uncle George.
"Have you
started packing yet, Jeeves?" I asked.
"Packing,
sir?"
"For
Harrogate. I've got to go there to-day with Sir George."
"Of
course, yes, sir. I forgot to mention it. Sir George rang up on the telephone
this morning while you were still asleep, and said that he had changed his
plans. He does not intend to go to Harrogate."
"Oh, I
say, how absolutely topping!"
"I thought
you might be pleased, sir."
"What made
him change his plans? Did he say?"
"No, sir.
But I gather from his man, Stevens, that he is feeling much better and does not
now require a rest-cure. I took the liberty of giving Stevens the recipe for
that pick-me-up of mine, of which you have always approved so much. Stevens
tells me that Sir George informed him this morning that he is feeling a new
man."
Well, there was
only one thing to do, and I did it. I'm not saying it didn't hurt, but there
was no alternative.
"Jeeves,"
I said, "those spats."
"Yes,
sir?"
"You
really dislike them?"
"Intensely,
sir."
"You don't
think time might induce you to change your views?"
"No,
sir."
"All
right, then. Very well. Say no more. You may burn them."
"Thank you
very much, sir. I have already done so. Before breakfast this morning. A quiet
grey is far more suitable, sir. Thank you, sir."
