Read The Jeeves Omnibus - Vol 3 Online
Authors: P. G. Wodehouse
I SAY ‘THE
ghost of Jeeves’ because in that first awful moment that was what I had the apparition docketed as. The words ‘What ho! A spectre!’ trembled on my lips, and I reacted rather like the heroine of
Murder At Greystone Grange
on discovering that the Thing had come to doss in her room. I don’t know if you have ever seen a ghost, but the general effect is to give you quite a start.
Then the scent of bacon floated to the nostrils, and feeling that it was improbable that a wraith would be horsing about the place with dishes of eggs and b., I calmed down a bit. That is to say, I stopped upsetting the tea and was able to stutter. It is true that all I said was ‘Jeeves!’ but that wasn’t such bad going for one whose tongue had so recently been tangled up with the uvula, besides cleaving to the roof of the mouth.
He dumped the tray on my lap.
‘Good morning, sir,’ he said. ‘I fancied that you would possibly wish to enjoy your breakfast in the privacy of your apartment, rather than make one of the party in the dining room.’
Cognizant as I was of the fact that in that dining room there would be five aunts, one of them deaf, one of them dotty, one of them Dame Daphne Winkworth, and all of them totally unfit for human consumption on an empty stomach, I applauded the kindly gesture; all the more heartily because it had just occurred to me that in a house like this, where things were sure to be run on old-fashioned lines rather than in a manner of keeping with the trend of modern thought, the butler probably waited at the breakfast table.
‘Does he?’ I asked. ‘Does Silversmith minister to the revellers at the morning meal?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘My God!’ I said, paling beneath the tan. ‘What a man, Jeeves!’
‘Sir?’
‘Your Uncle Charlie.’
‘Ah, yes, sir. A forceful personality.’
‘Forceful is correct. What’s that thing of Shakespeare’s about someone having an eye like Mother’s?’
‘An eye like Mars, to threaten and command, is possibly the quotation for which you are groping, sir.’
‘That’s right. Uncle Charlie has an eye like that. You really call him Uncle Charlie?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Amazing. To me, to think of him as Uncle Charlie is like thinking of him as Jimmy or Reggie, or, for the matter of that, Bertie. Used he in your younger days to dandle you on his knee?’
‘Quite frequently, sir.’
‘And you didn’t quail? You must have been a child of blood and iron.’ I addressed myself to the platter once more. ‘Extraordinarily good bacon, this, Jeeves.’
‘Home cured, I understand, sir.’
‘And made, no doubt, from contented pigs. Kippers, too, not to mention toast, marmalade and, unless my senses deceive me, an apple. Say what you will of Deverill Hall, its hospitality is lavish. I don’t know if you have ever noticed it, Jeeves, but a good, spirited kipper first thing in the morning seems to put heart into you.’
‘Very true, sir, though I myself am more partial to a slice of ham.’
For some moments we discussed the relative merits of ham and kippers as buckers-up of the morale, there being much, of course, to be said on both sides, and then I touched on something which I had been meaning to touch on earlier. I can’t think how it came to slip my mind.
‘Oh, Jeeves,’ I said, ‘I knew there was something I wanted to ask you. What in the name of everything bloodsome are you doing here?’
‘I fancied that you might possibly be curious on that point, sir, and I was about to volunteer an explanation. I have come here in attendance on Mr Fink-Nottle. Permit me, sir.’
He retrieved the slab of kipper which a quick jerk of the wrist had caused me to send flying from the fork, and replaced it on the dish. I stared at him wide-eyed as the expression is.
‘Mr Fink-Nottle?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘But Gussie’s not here?’
‘Yes. sir. We arrived at a somewhat late hour last night.’
A sudden blinding light flashed upon me.
‘You mean it was Gussie to whom Uncle Charlie was referring when he said that Mr Wooster had punched the time-clock? I’m
here
saying I’m Gussie, and now Gussie has blown in, saying he’s me?’
‘Precisely, sir. It is a curious and perhaps somewhat complex situation that has been precipitated –’
‘You’re telling me, Jeeves!’
Only the fact that by doing so I should have upset the tray prevented me turning my face to the wall. When Esmond Haddock in our exchanges over the port had spoken of the times that try men’s souls, he hadn’t had a notion of what the times that try men’s souls can really be, if they spit on their hands and get right down to it. I levered up a forkful of kipper and passed it absently over the larynx, endeavouring to adjust the faculties to a set-up which even the most intrepid would have had to admit was a honey.
‘But how did Gussie get out of stir?’
‘The magistrate decided on second thoughts to substitute a fine for the prison sentence, sir.’
‘What made him do that?’
‘Possibly the reflection that the quality of mercy is not strained, sir.’
‘You mean it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven?’
‘Precisely, sir. Upon the place beneath. His Worship would no doubt have taken into consideration the fact that it blesseth him that gives and him that takes and becomes the throned monarch better than his crown.’
I mused. Yes, there was something in that.
‘What did he soak him? Five quid?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And Gussie brassed up and was free?’
‘Yes, sir.’
I put my finger on the nub.
‘Why?’ I said.
I thought I had him there, but I hadn’t. Where a lesser man would have shuffled his feet and twiddled his finger and mumbled ‘Yes, I see what you mean, that is the problem, is it not?’ he had his explanation all ready to serve and dished it up without batting an eyelid.
‘It was the only course to pursue, sir. On the one hand, her ladyship, your aunt, was most emphatic in her desire that you should visit the hall, and on the other Miss Bassett was equally insistent on Mr Fink-Nottle doing so. In the event of either of you failing to arrive, inquiries would have been instituted, with disastrous results. To take but one aspect of the matter, Miss Bassett is expecting to receive daily letters from Mr Fink-Nottle, giving her all the gossip
of
the hall and describing in detail his life there. These will, of course, have to be written on the hall notepaper and postmarked “King’s Deverill”.’
‘True. You speak sooth, Jeeves. I never thought of that.’
I swallowed a sombre chunk of toast and marmalade. I was thinking how easily all this complex stuff could have been avoided, if only the beak had had the sense to fine Gussie in the first place, instead of as an afterthought. I have said it before, and I will say it again, all magistrates are asses. Show me a magistrate and I will show you a fathead.
I started on the apple.
‘So here we are.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I’m Gussie and Gussie’s me.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And ceaseless vigilance will be required if we are not to gum the game. We shall be walking on eggshells.’
‘A very trenchant figure, sir.’
I finished the apple, and lit a thoughtful cigarette.
‘Well, I suppose it had to be,’ I said. ‘But lay off the Marcus Aurelius stuff, because I don’t think I could stand it if you talk about it all being part of the great web. How’s Gussie taking the thing?’
‘Not blithely, sir. I should describe him as disgruntled. I learn from Mr Pirbright –’
‘Oh, you’ve seen Catsmeat?’
‘Yes, sir, in the servants’ hall. He was helping Queenie, the parlourmaid, with her crossword puzzle. He informed me that he had contrived to obtain an interview with Miss Pirbright and had apprised her of your reluctance to play the part of Pat in the Hibernian entertainment at the concert, and that Miss Pirbright fully appreciated your position and said that now that Mr Fink-Nottle had arrived he would, of course, sustain the role. Mr Pirbright has seen Mr Fink-Nottle and informed him of the arrangement, and it is this that has caused Mr Fink-Nottle to become disgruntled.’
‘He shrinks from the task?’
‘Yes, sir. He is also somewhat exercised in his mind by what he had heard the ladies of the hall saying with regard to –’
‘My doings?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘The dog?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘The port?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And the hallo, hallo, a-hunting we will go?’
‘Yes, sir.’
I whooshed out a remorseful puff of smoke.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’m afraid I haven’t given Gussie a very good send-off. Quite inadvertently I fear that I have established him in the eyes of mine hostesses as one of those whited sepulchres which try to kid the public that they drink nothing but orange juice and the moment that public’s back is turned, start doing the
Lost Week-End
stuff with the port. Of course, I could put up a pretty good case for myself. Esmond Haddock thrust the decanter on me, and I was dying of thirst. You wouldn’t blame a snowbound traveller in the Alps for accepting a drop of brandy at the hands of a St Bernard dog. Still, one hopes that they will keep it under their hats and not pass it along to Miss Bassett. One doesn’t want spanners bunged into Gussie’s romance.’
We were silent for a moment, musing on what the harvest would be, were anything to cause Madeline Bassett to become de-Gussied. Then I changed a distasteful subject.
‘Talking of romances, I suppose Catsmeat confided in you about his?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I thought he would. Amazing, the way all these birds come to you and sob out their troubles on your chest.’
‘I find it most gratifying, sir, and am always eager to lend such assistance as may lie within my power. One desires to give satisfaction. Shortly after your departure yesterday, Mr Pirbright devoted some little time to an exposition of the problem confronting him. It was after learning the facts that I ventured to suggest that he should take my place here as your attendant.’
‘I wish one of you had thought to tip me off with a telegram. I should have been spared a nasty shock. The last thing one wants on top of what might be termed a drinking bout is to have a changeling ring himself in on you without warning. You’d look pretty silly yourself if you came into my room one morning with the cup of tea after a thick night and found Ernie Bevin or someone propped up in the bed. When you saw Catsmeat just now, did he tell you the Stop Press news?’
‘Sir?’
‘About Esmond Haddock and Corky.’
‘Ah, yes, sir. He informed me of what you had said to him with reference to Mr Haddock’s unswerving devotion to Miss Pirbright.
He
appeared greatly relieved. He feels that the principal obstacle to his happiness has now been removed.’
‘Yes, Catsmeat’s sitting pretty. One wishes one could say the same of poor old Esmond.’
‘You think that Miss Pirbright does not reciprocate Mr Haddock’s sentiments, sir?’
‘Oh, she reciprocates them, all right. She freely admits that he is the lodestar of her life, and you’re probably saying to yourself that in these circs everything should be hunkadory. I mean, if she’s the lodestar of his life and he’s the lodestar of hers, the thing ought to be in the bag. But you’re wrong, and so is Esmond Haddock. His view, poor deluded clam, is that he will make such a whale of a hit with this song he’s singing at the concert that when she hears the audience cheering him to the echo she will say “Oh, Esmond!” and fling herself into his arms. Not a hope.’
‘No, sir?’
‘Not a hope, Jeeves. There’s a snag. The trouble is that she refuses to consider the idea of hitching up with him unless he defies his aunts, and he very naturally gets the vapours at the mere idea. It is what I have sometimes heard described as an impasse.’
‘Why does the young lady wish Mr Haddock to defy his aunts, sir?’
‘She says he has allowed them to oppress him from childhood, and it’s time he threw off the yoke. She wants him to show her that he is a man of intrepid courage. It’s the old dragon gag. In the days when knights were bold, as you probably know, girls used to hound fellows into going out and fighting dragons. I expect your old pal Childe Roland had it happen to him a dozen times. But dragons are one thing, and aunts are another. I have no doubt that Esmond Haddock would spring to the task of taking on a fire-breathing dragon, but there isn’t the remotest chance of him ever standing up to Dame Daphne Winkworth, and the Misses Charlotte, Emmeline, Harriet and Myrtle Deverill and making them play ball.’
‘I wonder, sir?’
‘What do you mean, you wonder, Jeeves?’
‘It crossed my mind as a possibility, sir, that were Mr Haddock’s performance at the concert to be the success he anticipates, his attitude might become more resolute. I have not myself had the opportunity of studying the young gentleman’s psychology, but from what my Uncle Charlie tells me I am convinced that he is one of these gentlemen on whom popular acclamation might have sensational effects. Mr Haddock’s has been, as you say, a repressed
life
, and he has, no doubt, a very marked inferiority complex. The cheers of the multitude frequently act like a powerful drug upon young gentlemen with inferiority complexes.’
I began to grasp the gist.
‘You mean that if he makes a hit he will get it up his nose to such an extent that he will be able to look his aunts in the eye and make them wilt?’
‘Precisely, sir. You will recall the case of Mr Little.’
‘Golly, yes, that’s right. Bingo became a changed man, didn’t he? Jeeves, I believe you’ve got something.’
‘At least the theory which I have advanced is a tenable one, sir.’
‘It’s more than tenable. It’s a pip. Then what we’ve got to do is to strain every nerve to see that he makes a hit. What are those things people have?’
‘Sir?’
‘Opera singers and people like that.’
‘You mean a claque, sir?’
‘That’s right. The word was on the tip of my tongue. He must be provided with a claque. It will be your task, Jeeves, to move about the village, dropping a word here, standing a beer there, till the whole community is impressed with the necessity of cheering Esmond Haddock’s song till their eyes bubble. I can leave this to you?’