The Jeeves Omnibus (53 page)

Read The Jeeves Omnibus Online

Authors: P. G. Wodehouse

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Humour, #Literary, #Fiction, #Classic, #General, #Classics

‘Let him.’

‘And when he and the constable come and search this room?’

‘They wouldn’t do that.’

‘They would and will. In the first place, they think the Oates helmet is here. In the second place, it is the officer’s view, relayed to me by Jeeves, who had it from him first hand as he was staunching the flow of blood, that it was I whom he pursued.’

Her chirpiness waned. I had expected it would. She had been beaming. She beamed no longer. Eyeing her steadily, I saw that the native hue of resolution had become sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought.

‘H’m! This is awkward.’

‘Most.’

‘If they find the cow-creamer here, it may be a little difficult to explain.’

She rose, and broke the elephant thoughtfully.

‘The great thing,’ she said, ‘is not to lose our heads. We must say to ourselves: “What would Napoleon have done?” He was the boy
in
a crisis. He knew his onions. We must do something very clever, very shrewd, which will completely baffle these bounders. Well, come on, I’m waiting for suggestions.’

‘Mine is that you pop off without delay, taking that beastly cow with you.’

‘And run into the search party on the stairs! Not if I know it. Have you any ideas, Jeeves?’

‘Not at the moment, madam.’

‘You can’t produce a guilty secret of Sir Watkyn’s out of the hat, as you did with Spode?’

‘No, madam.’

‘No, I suppose that’s too much to ask. Then we’ve got to hide the thing somewhere. But where? It’s the old problem, of course – the one that makes life so tough for murderers – what to do with the body. I suppose the old Purloined Letter stunt wouldn’t work?’

‘Mrs Travers is alluding to the well-known story by the late Edgar Allan Poe, sir,’ said Jeeves, seeing that I was not abreast. ‘It deals with the theft of an important document, and the character who had secured it foiled the police by placing it in full view in a letter-rack, his theory being that what is obvious is often overlooked. No doubt Mrs Travers wishes to suggest that we deposit the object on the mantelpiece.’

I laughed a hollow one.

‘Take a look at the mantelpiece! It is as bare as a windswept prairie. Anything placed there would stick out like a sore thumb.’

‘Yes, that’s true,’ Aunt Dahlia was forced to admit.

‘Put the bally thing in the suitcase, Jeeves.’

‘That’s no good. They’re bound to look there.’

‘Merely as a palliative,’ I explained. ‘I can’t stand the sight of it any longer. In with it, Jeeves.’

‘Very good, sir.’

A silence ensued, and it was just after Aunt Dahlia had broken it to say how about barricading the door and standing a siege that there came from the passage the sound of approaching footsteps.

‘Here they are,’ I said.

‘They seem in a hurry,’ said Aunt Dahlia.

She was correct. These were running footsteps. Jeeves went to the door and looked out.

‘It is Mr Fink-Nottle, sir.’

And the next moment Gussie entered, going strongly.

A single glance at him was enough to reveal to the discerning eye
that
he had not been running just for the sake of the exercise. His spectacles were glittering in a hunted sort of way, and there was more than a touch of the fretful porpentine about his hair.

‘Do you mind if I hide here till the milk train goes, Bertie?’ he said. ‘Under the bed will do. I shan’t be in your way.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Or, still better, the knotted sheet. That’s the stuff.’

A snort like a minute-gun showed that Aunt Dahlia was in no welcoming mood.

‘Get out of here, you foul Spink-Bottle,’ she said curtly. ‘We’re in conference. Bertie, if an aunt’s wishes have any weight with you, you will stamp on this man with both feet and throw him out on his ear.’

I raised a hand.

‘Wait! I want to get the strength of this. Stop messing about with those sheets, Gussie and explain. Is Spode after you again? Because, if so –’

‘Not Spode. Sir Watkyn.’

Aunt Dahlia snorted again, like one giving an encore in response to a popular demand.

‘Bertie –’

I raised another hand.

‘Half a second, old ancestor. How do you mean Sir Watkyn? Why Sir Watkyn? What on earth is he chivvying you for?’

‘He’s read the notebook.’

‘What!’

‘Yes.’

‘Bertie, I am only a weak woman –’

I raised a third hand. This was no time for listening to aunts.

‘Go on, Gussie,’ I said dully.

He took off his spectacles and wiped them with a trembling handkerchief. You could see that he was a man who had passed through the furnace.

‘When I left you, I went to his room. The door was ajar, and I crept in. And when I had got in, I found that he hadn’t gone to have a bath, after all. He was sitting on the bed in his underwear, reading the notebook. He looked up, and our eyes met. You’ve no notion what a frightful shock it gave me.’

‘Yes, I have. I once had a very similar experience with the Rev. Aubrey Upjohn.’

‘There was a long, dreadful pause. Then he uttered a sort of
gurgling
sound and rose, his face contorted. He made a leap in my direction. I pushed off. He followed. It was neck and neck down the stairs, but as we passed through the hall he stopped to get a hunting crop, and this enabled me to secure a good lead, which I –’

‘Bertie,’ said Aunt Dahlia, ‘I am only a weak woman, but if you won’t tread on this insect and throw the remains outside, I shall have to see what I can do. The most tremendous issues hanging in the balance … Our plan of action still to be decided on … Every second of priceless importance … and he comes in here, telling us the story of his life. Spink-Bottle, you ghastly goggle-eyed piece of gorgonzola, will you hop it or will you not?’

There is a compelling force about the old flesh and blood, when stirred, which generally gets her listened to. People have told me that in her hunting days she could make her wishes respected across two ploughed fields and a couple of spinneys. The word ‘not’ had left her lips like a high-powered shell, and Gussie, taking it between the eyes, rose some six inches into the air. When he returned to terra firma, his manner was apologetic and conciliatory.

‘Yes, Mrs Travers. I’m just going, Mrs Travers. The moment we get the sheet working, Mrs Travers. If you and Jeeves will just hold this end, Bertie –’

‘You want them to let you down from the window with a sheet?’

‘Yes, Mrs Travers. Then I can borrow Bertie’s car and drive to London.’

‘It’s a long drop.’

‘Oh, not so very, Mrs Travers.’

‘You may break your neck.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so, Mrs Travers.’

‘But you may,’ argued Aunt Dahlia. ‘Come on, Bertie,’ she said, speaking with real enthusiasm, ‘hurry up. Let the man down with the sheet, can’t you? What are you waiting for?’

I turned to Jeeves. ‘Ready, Jeeves?’

‘Yes, sir.’ He coughed gently. ‘And perhaps if Mr Fink-Nottle is driving your car to London, he might take your suitcase with him and leave it at the flat.’

I gasped. So did Aunt Dahlia. I stared at him. Aunt Dahlia the same. Our eyes met, and I saw in hers the same reverent awe which I have no doubt she viewed in mine.

I was overcome. A moment before, I had been dully conscious that nothing could save me from the soup. Already I had seemed to hear the beating of its wings. And now this!

Aunt Dahlia, speaking of Napoleon, had claimed that he was pretty hot in an emergency, but I was prepared to bet that not even Napoleon could have topped this superb effort. Once more, as so often in the past, the man had rung the bell and was entitled to the cigar or coconut.

‘Yes, Jeeves,’ I said, speaking with some difficulty, ‘that is true. He might, mightn’t he?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You won’t mind taking my suitcase, Gussie. If you’re borrowing the car, I shall have to go by train. I’m leaving in the morning myself. And it’s a nuisance hauling about a lot of luggage.’

‘Of course.’

‘We’ll just loose you down on the sheet and drop the suitcase after you. All set, Jeeves?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then upsy-daisy!’

I don’t think I have ever assisted at a ceremony which gave such universal pleasure to all concerned. The sheet didn’t split, which pleased Gussie. Nobody came to interrupt us, which pleased me. And when I dropped the suitcase, it hit Gussie on the head, which delighted Aunt Dahlia. As for Jeeves, one could see that the faithful fellow was tickled pink at having been able to cluster round and save the young master in his hour of peril. His motto is ‘Service’.

The stormy emotions through which I had been passing had not unnaturally left me weak, and I was glad when Aunt Dahlia, after a powerful speech in which she expressed her gratitude to our preserver in well-phrased terms, said that she would hop along and see what was going on in the enemy’s camp. Her departure enabled me to sink into the armchair in which, had she remained, she would unquestionably have parked herself indefinitely. I flung myself on the cushioned seat and emitted a woof that came straight from the heart.

‘So that’s that, Jeeves!’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Once again your swift thinking has averted disaster as it loomed.’

‘It is very kind of you to say so, sir.’

‘Not kind, Jeeves. I am merely saying what any thinking man would say. I didn’t chip in while Aunt Dahlia was speaking, for I saw that she wished to have the floor, but you may take it that I was silently subscribing to every sentiment she uttered. You stand alone, Jeeves. What size hat do you take?’

‘A number eight, sir.’

‘I should have thought larger. Eleven or twelve.’

I helped myself to a spot of brandy, and sat rolling it round my tongue luxuriantly. It was delightful to relax after the strain and stress I had been through.

‘Well, Jeeves, the going has been pretty tough, what?’

‘Extremely, sir.’

‘One begins to get some idea of how the skipper of the
Hesperus’s
little daughter must have felt. Still, I suppose these tests and trials are good for the character.’

‘No doubt, sir.’

‘Strengthening.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘However, I can’t say I’m sorry it’s all over. Enough is always enough. And it is all over, one feels. Even this sinister house can surely have no further shocks to offer.’

‘I imagine not, sir.’

‘No, this is the finish. Totleigh Towers has shot its bolt, and at long last we are sitting pretty. Gratifying, Jeeves.’

‘Most gratifying, sir.’

‘You bet it is. Carry on with the packing. I want to get it done and go to bed.’

He opened the small suitcase, and I lit a cigarette and proceeded to stress the moral lesson to be learned from all this rannygazoo.

‘Yes, Jeeves, “gratifying” is the word. A short while ago, the air was congested with V-shaped depressions, but now one looks north, south, east and west and descries not a single cloud on the horizon – except the fact that Gussie’s wedding is still off, and that can’t be helped. Well, this should certainly teach us, should it not, never to repine, never to despair, never to allow the upper lip to unstiffen, but always to remember that, no matter how dark the skies may be, the sun is shining somewhere and will eventually come smiling through.’

I paused. I perceived that I was not securing his attention. He was looking down with an intent, thoughtful expression on his face.

‘Something the matter, Jeeves?’

‘Sir?’

‘You appear preoccupied.’

‘Yes, sir. I have just discovered that there is a policeman’s helmet in this suitcase.’

13

I HAD BEEN
right about the strengthening effect on the character of the vicissitudes to which I had been subjected since clocking in at the country residence of Sir Watkyn Bassett. Little by little, bit by bit, they had been moulding me, turning me from a sensitive clubman and
boulevardier
to a man of chilled steel. A novice to conditions in this pest house, abruptly handed the news item which I had just been handed, would, I imagine, have rolled up the eyeballs and swooned where he sat. But I, toughened and fortified by the routine of one damn thing after another which constituted life at Totleigh Towers, was enabled to keep my head and face the issue.

I don’t say I didn’t leave my chair like a jack-rabbit that has sat on a cactus, but having risen I wasted no time in fruitless twitterings. I went to the door and locked it. Then, tight-lipped and pale, I came back to Jeeves, who had now taken the helmet from the suitcase and was oscillating it meditatively by its strap.

His first words showed me that he had got the wrong angle on the situation.

‘It would have been wiser, sir,’ he said with faint reproach, ‘to have selected some more adequate hiding-place.’

I shook my head. I may even have smiled – wanly, of course. My swift intelligence had enabled me to probe to the bottom of this thing.

‘Not me, Jeeves. Stiffy.’

‘Sir?’

‘The hand that placed that helmet there was not mine, but that of S. Byng. She had it in her room. She feared lest a search might be instituted, and when I last saw her was trying to think of a safer spot. This is her idea of one.’

I sighed.

‘How do you imagine a girl gets a mind like Stiffy’s, Jeeves?’

‘Certainly the young lady is somewhat eccentric in her actions, sir.’

‘Eccentric? She could step straight into Colney Hatch, and no questions asked. They would lay down the red carpet for her. The more the thoughts dwell on that young shrimp, the more the soul sickens in horror. One peers into the future, and shudders at what one sees there. One has to face it, Jeeves – Stiffy, who is pure padded cell from the foundations up, is about to marry the Rev. H. P. Pinker, himself about as pronounced a goop as ever broke bread, and there is no reason to suppose – one has to face this, too – that their union will not be blessed. There will, that is to say, ’ere long be little feet pattering about the home. And what one asks oneself is – Just how safe will human life be in the vicinity of those feet, assuming – as one is forced to assume – that they will inherit the combined loopiness of two such parents? It is with a sort of tender pity, Jeeves, that I think of the nurses, the governesses, the private-school masters and the public-school masters who will lightly take on the responsibility of looking after a blend of Stephanie Byng and Harold Pinker, little knowing that they are coming up against something hotter than mustard. However,’ I went on, abandoning these speculations, ‘all this, though of absorbing interest, is not really germane to the issue. Contemplating that helmet and bearing in mind the fact that the Oates–Bassett comedy duo will be arriving at any moment to start their search, what would you recommend?’

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