The Jeeves Omnibus (23 page)

‘Yes, miss. I have just been having a conversation with Mr Stoker. He did appear somewhat overwrought.’

‘All the way here he was talking about what he was going to do if he ever found you again. And now you tell me he did find you. What happened? Didn’t he eat you?’

‘No, miss.’

‘Probably on a diet. Well, where has he got to? They told me he was in here.’

‘Mr Stoker left a moment ago with the intention of visiting the Dower House, miss. I think he hopes to find Mr Wooster there.’

‘Somebody ought to warn that poor sap.’

‘You need experience no anxiety for Mr Wooster, miss. He is not at the Dower House.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Elsewhere, miss.’

‘Not that I care where he is. Do you remember my telling you last night, Jeeves, that I was thinking of becoming Mrs Bertram W.?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Well, I’m not. So you needn’t save up for that fish slice, after all. I’ve changed my mind.’

‘I am glad to hear that, miss.’

So was I. Her words were music to my ears.

‘Glad, are you?’

‘Yes, miss. I doubt whether the union would have been a successful one. Mr Wooster is an agreeable young gentleman, but I would describe him as essentially one of Nature’s bachelors.’

‘Besides being mentally negligible?’

‘Mr Wooster is capable of acting very shrewdly on occasion, miss.’

‘So am I. And that is why I say that, no matter if Father does tear the roof off, I am not going to marry that poor, persecuted lamb. Why should I? I’ve nothing against him.’

There was a pause.

‘I’ve just been talking to Lady Chuffnell, Jeeves.’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Apparently she has had a little domestic trouble, too.’

‘Yes, miss. There was an unfortunate rift between her ladyship and Sir Roderick Glossop last night. Now, I am glad to say, her ladyship appears to have thought matters over and decided that she made a mistake in severing relations with the gentleman.’

‘One does think things over, doesn’t one?’

‘Almost invariably, miss.’

‘And a fat lot of use that is, if the severed relation doesn’t think them over too. Have you seen Lord Chuffnell this morning, Jeeves?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘How was he looking?’

‘Somewhat worried, it seemed to me, miss.’

‘He was?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘H’m. Well, I won’t keep you from your professional duties, Jeeves: smack into them right away, as far as I’m concerned.’

‘Thank you, miss. Good morning.’

For some moments after the door closed I remained motionless. I was passing the position of affairs under thoughtful review. To a certain extent you might say that relief was tingling through the veins like some rare wine, causing satisfaction and mental uplift. In the plainest possible language, weighing her words and speaking without dubiety or equivocation, this girl Pauline had stated that not even the strongest measures on the part of her father would induce her to shove on the old bridal veil and step up the aisle at my side. So far, so good.

But had she thoroughly estimated that father’s powers of persuasion? That was what I asked myself. Had she ever seen him when he was really going good? Was she aware of what a Force he could be when in mid-season form? In a word, did she realize what she was up against, and know that to attempt to thwart J. Washburn Stoker, when in spate, was like entering a jungle and taking on the first couple of wildcats you encountered?

It was this thought which prevented my rapture from being complete. It seemed to me that, in opposing her will to that of a bally retired pirate like this male parent of hers, the frail girl was going out of her class and that her resistance to his matrimonial plans would be useless.

And I was musing thus when I suddenly heard the sloosh of coffee in a cup, and a moment later there came what Drexdale Yeats would have called a metallic clang, and with profound emotion I divined that Pauline, unable to resist the sight of that tray any longer, had poured herself out a steaming beaker and was getting at the kippers. For there was no longer any possible room for doubt as to the correctness of Jeeves’s information. It was the scent of kippered herrings that was now wafted to me like a benediction, and I clenched my fists till the knuckles stood out white beneath the strain. I could mark every mouthful and each in turn went through me like a knife.

It’s odd, the effect hunger has on one. You can’t tell what you will do under the stress of it. Let the most level-headed bird get really peckish, and he will throw prudence to the winds. I did so at this point. Obviously the sound scheme was for me to remain under cover and wait till all these Stokers and what not blew over, and that was the policy which, in a calmer frame of mind, I would have pursued. But the smell of those kippers and the knowledge that with every moment that passed they were melting away like snow upon the mountain tops and that pretty soon all the toast would be gone as well, was too powerful for me. I came up from behind that desk like a minnow on a hook.

‘Hi!’ I said, speaking with a strong note of pleading in my voice.

It’s rummy how experience never teaches us. I had seen the reaction of the scullerymaid to my sudden appearance. I had noted its effect on old Chuffy. And I had watched Sir Roderick Glossop at the moment of impact. Yet here I was, bobbing up in just the same sudden fashion as before.

And exactly the same thing happened again. If anything, rather more so. At the moment, Pauline Stoker was busy with a mouthful of kipper, and this for the nonce cramped her freedom of expression, so that all that occurred for about a second and a quarter was that a pair of horrified eyes stared into mine. Then the barrier of kipper gave way, and one of the most devastating yowls of terror I’ve ever heard in my puff ripped through the air.

It coincided with the opening of the door and the appearance on the threshold of the fifth Baron Chuffnell. And the next moment he had dashed at her and gathered her in his arms, and she had dashed at him and been gathered.

They couldn’t have done it more neatly if they had been rehearsing for weeks.

I ALWAYS MAINTAIN
that it is by a chap’s behaviour on this sort of occasion that you can really weigh him in the balance and judge if he’s got the right chivalrous delicacy in him or not. It is the acid test. Come to me and say to me ‘Wooster, you know me pretty well. Tell me something. To settle a bet, would you consider that I was a
preux chevalier
, as the expression is?’ and I reply ‘My dear Bates, or Cuthbertson, or whatever the name may be, I shall be able to answer that question better if you will indicate what you would do if you happened to be in a room where two loving hearts, after a painful misunderstanding, were in the process of getting together again on a basis of chumminess and mutual esteem. Would you duck down behind the desk? Or would you stand there and drink the performance in with bulging eyes?’

My own views are rigid. When a lovers’ reconciliation is in progress, I do not remain goggling. As far as the conditions will permit, I withdraw and leave them to it.

But though, with the desk between us, I could not see these two, I could hear them, and most unpleasant it was. I have known Chuffy, as I saw, practically from childhood, and in the course of the years I have seen him in a variety of differing circumstances and in many moods. And I never would have believed him capable of the revolting slush which now proceeded from his lips at the rate of about two hundred and fifty words to the minute. When I tell you that the observation ‘There, there, little girl!’ was the only one I can bring myself to quote, you will be able to gather something of the ordeal to which I was subjected. And, to make matters worse, on an empty stomach, mind you.

Pauline, meanwhile, was contributing little or nothing to the dialogue. Until this moment I had considered that, in the matter of emotional reaction to my appearance, the scullerymaid had set a mark at which others who met me suddenly might shoot in vain. But Pauline eclipsed her completely. She remained in Chuffy’s arms
gurgling
like a leaky radiator, and it was only quite some little time later that she began to regain anything of a grip on her faculties. The girl seemed goofy.

I suppose the fact of the matter was that at the moment when I manifested myself she was undergoing a considerable mental strain, and that my appearance served, as it were, to put the tin hat on it. At any rate, she continued to give this radiator impersonation of hers so long that in the end it seemed to strike Chuffy that it was about time he switched off the murmured endearments and got down to first causes.

‘But, darling,’ I heard him say. ‘What was it, angel? What scared you, sweetheart? Tell me, precious. Did you see something, pet?’

It seemed to me that the moment had come to join the meeting. I rose above the top of the desk, and Pauline shied like a frightened horse. It annoyed me, I confess. Bertram Wooster is not accustomed to causing convulsions in the gentler sex. As a matter of fact, usually when girls see me, they incline rather to the amused smile, or, on occasion, to the weary sigh and the despairing ‘Oh, are
you
here again, Bertie?’ But better even that than this stark horror.

‘Hallo, Chuffy,’ I said. ‘Nice day.’

You might have thought that relief would have been the emotion uppermost in Pauline Stoker’s bosom on discovering that the cause of her panic was merely an old friend. But no. She absolutely glared at me.

‘You poor goof,’ she cried, ‘what’s the big idea, playing hide-and-seek like that and scaring people stiff? And I don’t know if you know it, but you’ve got a smut on your face.’

Nor was Chuffy behind hand in the recriminations.

‘Bertie!’ he said, in a sort of moaning way. ‘My God! I might have guessed it would be you. You really are without exception the most completely drivelling lunatic that was ever at large.’

I felt it was time to check this sort of thing pretty sharply.

‘I regret,’ I said, with a cold hauteur, ‘that I startled this young fathead, but my motives in concealing myself behind that desk were based on prudence and sound reasoning. And, talking of lunatics, Chuffnell, don’t forget that I was compelled to overhear what you have been saying for the last five minutes.’

I was pleased to see the blush of shame mantle his cheek. He shuffled uncomfortably.

‘You oughtn’t to have listened.’

‘You don’t imagine that I wanted to listen, do you?’

Something of defiance or bravado came into his manner.

‘And why the devil shouldn’t I talk like that? I love her, blast you, and I don’t care who knows it.’

‘Oh, quite,’ I said, with a scarcely veiled contempt.

‘She’s the most marvellous thing on earth.’

‘No, you are, darling,’ said Pauline.

‘No, you are, angel,’ said Chuffy.

‘No, you are, sweetness.’

‘No, you are, precious.’

‘Please,’ I said. ‘Please!’

Chuffy gave me a nasty look.

‘You were saying, Wooster?’

‘Oh nothing.’

‘I thought you made a remark.’

‘Oh, no.’

‘Good. You’d better not.’

The first nausea had worn off somewhat by this time, and it was a kindlier Bertram Wooster who now displayed himself. I am a broadminded man, and I reflected charitably that it was wrong to be hard on a fellow in Chuffy’s situation. After all, in the special circumstances he could scarcely be expected to preserve the decencies. I struck a conciliatory note.

‘Chuffy, old man,’ I said, ‘we must not allow ourselves to brawl. This is a moment for the genial eye and the affable smile. No one could be more delighted than myself that you and this old friend of mine have buried the dead past and started all square again together. I may look on myself as an old friend, may I not?’

She beamed in a cordial manner.

‘Well, I should hope so, you poor ditherer. Why, I knew you before I ever met Marmaduke.’

I turned to Chuffy.

‘This Marmaduke business. I want to take that up with you some time. Fancy you keeping that dark all these years.’

‘There’s nothing wrong in being christened Marmaduke, is there?’ said Chuffy, a little heatedly.

‘Nothing wrong, no. But we shall all have a good laugh about it at the Drones.’

‘Bertie,’ said Chuffy tensely, ‘if you breathe a word of it to those blighters at the Drones, I’ll track you to the ends of the earth and strangle you with my bare hands.’

‘Well, well, we must see, we must see. But, as I was saying, I am
delighted
that this reconciliation has taken place. Being, as I am, one of Pauline’s closest friends. We had some pretty good times together in the old days, didn’t we?’

‘You bet.’

‘That day at Piping Rock.’

‘Ah.’

‘And do you remember the night the car broke down and we were stranded for hours somewhere in the wilds of Westchester County in the rain?’

‘I should say so.’

‘Your feet got wet, and I very wisely took your stockings off.’

‘Here! said Chuffy.

‘Oh, it’s all right, old man. I conducted myself throughout with the nicest propriety. All I am trying to establish is that I am an old friend of Pauline’s and am consequently entitled to rejoice at the present situation. There are few more charming girls than this P. Stoker, and you are lucky to have won her, old man, in spite of the fact that she is handicapped by possessing a father who bears a striking resemblance to something out of the Book of Revelations.’

‘Father’s a good enough egg if you rub him the right way.’

‘You hear that, Chuffy? In rubbing this bally old thug, be sure to do it the right way.’

‘He is not a bally old thug.’

‘Pardon me. I appeal to Chuffy.’

Chuffy scratched his chin. Somewhat embarrassed.

‘I must say, angel, he does strike me at times as a bit above the odds.’

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘And never forget that he is resolved that Pauline shall marry me.’

‘What!’

‘Didn’t you know that? Oh, yes.’

Pauline was wearing a sort of Joan of Arc look.