The Gem Collector

by P. G. Wodehouse

  CHAPTER V.

  "How are you, Molly?"

  "Quite well, thank you, Jimmy."

  A pause.

  "You're looking very well."

  "I'm feeling very well. How are you?"

  "Quite well, thanks. Very well, indeed"

  Another pause.

  And then their eyes met, and at the same moment they burst outlaughing.

  "Your manners are _beautiful_, Jimmy. And I'm so glad you're so well!What an extraordinary thing us meeting like this. I thought you werein New York."

  "I thought you were. You haven't altered a bit, Molly."

  "Nor have you. How queer this is! I can't understand it."

  "Nor can I. I don't want to. I'm satisfied without. Do you know beforeI met you I was just thinking I hadn't a single friend in thiscountry. I'm on my way to stay with a man I've only known a few days,and his people, whom I don't know at all, and a bunch of other guests,whom I've never heard of, and his uncle, who's a sort of human icicle,and his aunt, who makes you feel like thirty cents directly she startsto talk to you, and the family watchdog, who will probably bite me.But now! You must live near here or you wouldn't be chasing horsesabout this road."

  "I live at a place called Corven Abbey."

  "What Corven Abbey? Why, that's where I'm going."

  "Jimmy! Oh, I see. You're Spennie's friend. But where is Spennie?"

  "At the abbey by now. He went in the auto with his uncle and aunt."

  "How did you meet Spennie?"

  "Oh, I did a very trifling Good Samaritan act, for which he was undulygrateful, and he adopted me from that moment."

  "How long have you been living in England, then? I never dreamed ofyou being here."

  "I've been on this side about a week. If you want my history in anutshell, it's this. Rich uncle. Poor nephew. Deceased uncle. Richnephew. I'm a man with money now. Lots of money."

  "How nice for you, Jimmy. Father came into money, too. That's how Icome to be over here. I wish you and father had got on bettertogether."

  "Your father, my dear Molly, has a manner with people he is not fondof which purists might call slightly abrupt. Perhaps things will bedifferent, now."

  The horse gave a sudden whinny.

  "I wish you wouldn't do that sort of thing without warning," saidJimmy to it plaintively.

  "He knows he's near home, and he knows it's his dinner time. There,now you can see the abbey. How do you like it?"

  They had reached a point in the road where the fields to the rightsloped sharply downward. A few hundred yards away, backed by woods,stood the beautiful home which ex-Policeman McEachern had caused to bebuilded for him. The setting sun lit up the waters of the lake. Nofigures were to be seen moving in the grounds. The place resembled apalace of sleep.

  "Well?" said Molly.

  "By Jove!"

  "Isn't it?" said Molly. "I'm so glad you like it. I always feel as ifI had invented everything round here. It hurts me if people don'tappreciate it. Once I took Sir Thomas Blunt up here. It was as much asI could do to induce him to come at all. He simply won't walk. When wegot to where we are standing now, I pointed and said: 'There!'"

  "And what did he do? Moan with joy?"

  "He grunted, and said it struck him as rather rustic."

  "Beast! I met Sir Thomas when we got off the train. Spennie Bluntintroduced me to him. He seemed to bear it pluckily, but with somedifficulty. I think we had better be going, or they will be sendingout search parties."

  "By the way, Jimmy," said Molly, as they went down the hill. "Can youact?"

  "Can I what?"

  "Act. In theatricals, you know."

  "I've never tried. But I've played poker, which I should think is muchthe same."

  "We are going to do a play, and we want another man. The man who wasgoing to play one of the parts has had to go back to London."

  "Poor devil! Fancy having to leave a place like this and go back tothat dingy, overrated town."

  * * * * *

  The big drawing-room of the abbey was full when they arrived. Tea wasgoing on in a desultory manner. In a chair at the far end of the room,Sir Thomas Blunt surveyed the scene gloomily through the smoke of acigarette. The sound of Lady Blunt's voice had struck their ears asthey opened the door. The Maxim gun was in action with no apparentprospect of jamming. The target of the moment was a fair,tired-looking lady, with a remarkable resemblance to Spennie. Jimmytook her to be his hostess. There was a resigned expression on herface, which he thoroughly understood. He sympathized with her.

  The other occupants of the room stared for a moment at Jimmy in theaustere manner peculiar to the Briton who sees a stranger, and thenresumed their respective conversations. One of their number, a slight,pale, young man, as scientifically clothed as Sir Thomas, left hisgroup, and addressed himself to Molly.

  "Ah, here you are, Miss McEachern," he said. "At last. We were allgetting so anxious."

  "Really?" said Molly. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Wesson."

  "I assure you, yes. Positively. A gray gloom had settled upon us. Wepictured you in all sorts of horrid situations. I was just going tocall for volunteers to scour the country, or whatever it is that onedoes in such circumstances. I used to read about it in books, but Ihave forgotten the technical term. I am relieved to find that you arenot even dusty, though it would have been more romantic if you couldhave managed a little dust here and there. But don't consider myfeelings, Miss McEachern, please."

  Molly introduced Jimmy to the newcomer. They shook hands, Jimmy withsomething of the wariness of a boxer in the ring. He felt aninstinctive distrust of this man. Why, he could not have said. Perhapsit was a certain subtle familiarity in his manner of speaking to Mollythat annoyed him. Jimmy objected strongly to any one addressing her asif there existed between them some secret understanding. Already themood of the old New York days was strong upon him. His instinct thenhad been to hate all her male acquaintances with an unreasoninghatred. He found himself in much the same frame of mind, now.

  "So you're Spennie's friend," said Mr. Wesson, "the man who's going toshow us all how to act, what?"

  "I believe there is some idea of my being a 'confused noise without',or something."

  "Haven't they asked you to play _Lord Algernon_?" inquiredWesson, with more animation than he usually allowed himself toexhibit.

  "Who is _Lord Algernon_?"

  "Only a character in the piece we are acting."

  "What does he do?"

  "He talks to me most of the time," said Molly.

  "Then," said Jimmy decidedly, "I seem to see myself making a big hit."

  "It's a long part if you aren't used to that sort of thing," saidWesson.

  He had hoped that the part with its wealth of opportunity would havefallen to himself.

  "I am used to it," said Jimmy. "Thanks."

  "If that little beast's after Molly," thought Jimmy, "there will betrouble."

  "Come along," said Molly, "and be introduced, and get some tea."

  "Well, Molly, dear," said Lady Jane, with a grateful smile at theinterruption, "we didn't know what had become of you. Did Dandy giveyou trouble?"

  "Dandy's a darling, and wouldn't do anything of the sort if you askedhim to. He's a kind little 'oss, as Thomas says. He only walked awaywhen I got off to pick some roses, and I couldn't catch him. And thenI met Jimmy."

  Jimmy bowed.

  "I hope you aren't tired out," said Lady Jane to him. "We thought youwould never arrive. It's such a long walk. It was really too carelessof Spennie not to let us know when he expected you."

  "I was telling Spencer in the automobile," put in Lady Blunt, withferocity, "that _my_ father would have horsewhipped him if he hadbeen a son of his. He would."

  "Really, Julia!" protested Lady Jane rather faintly.

  "That's so. And I don't care who knows it. A boy doesn't want toforget things if he's going to make his way in the world. I toldSpencer so in the automobile."

 
Jimmy had noticed that Spennie was not in the room. He now understoodhis absence. After the ride he had probably felt that an hour or twopassed out of his aunt's society would not do him any harm. He was nowundergoing a rest cure, Jimmy imagined, in the billiard room.

  "I can assure you," said he, by way of lending a helping hand to theabsent one, "I really preferred to walk. I have only just landed inEngland from New York, and it's quite a treat to walk on an Englishcountry road again."

  "Are you from New York? I wonder if----"

  "Jimmy's an old friend," said Molly. "We knew him very well indeed. Itwas such a surprise meeting him."

  "How interesting," said Lady Jane languidly, as if the intellectualstrain of the conversation had been too much for her. "You will havesuch lots to talk about, won't you?"

  "I say," said Jimmy, as they moved away, "who is that fellow Wesson?"

  "Oh, a man," said Molly vaguely.

  "There's no need to be fulsome," said Jimmy. "He can't hear."

  "Mother likes him. I don't."

  "Mother?"

  "Hullo," said Molly, "there's father."

  The door had opened while they were talking, and Mr. Patrick McEachernhad walked solidly into the room. The ornaments on the Chippendaletables jingled as he came. Secretly he was somewhat embarrassed atfinding himself in the midst of so many people. He had not yetmastered the art of feeling at home in his own house. At meals he didnot fear his wife's guests so much. Their attention was in a mannerdistributed at such times, instead of being, as now, focused uponhimself. He stood there square and massive, outwardly the picture ofall that was rugged and independent, looking about him for a friendlyface. To offer a general remark, or to go boldly and sit down besideone of those dazzling young ladies, like some heavyweight spiderbeside a Miss Muffet, was beyond him. In his time he had stoppedrunaway horses, clubbed mad dogs, and helped to break up East Sidegang fights, when the combatants on both sides were using their gunslavishly and impartially; but his courage failed him here.

  "Why," said Jimmy, "is your father here, too? I didn't know that."

  To himself he reviled his luck. How much would he see of Molly now?Her father's views on himself were no sealed book to him.

  Molly looked at him in surprise.

  "Didn't know?" she said. "Didn't I tell you the place belonged tofather?"

  "What!" said Jimmy. "This house?"

  "Yes. Of course."

  "And--by gad, I've got it. He has married Spennie Blunt's mother."

  "Yes."

  "Well, I'm--surprised."

  Suddenly he began to chuckle.

  "What _is_ it, Jimmy?"

  "Why--why, I've just grasped the fact that your father--your father,mind you--is my host. I'm the honored guest. At his house!"

  The chuckle swelled into a laugh. The noise attracted McEachern'sattention, and, looking in the direction whence it proceeded, hecaught sight of Molly.

  With a grin of joy, he made for the sofa.

  "Well, father, dear?" said Molly nervously.

  Mr. McEachern was staring horribly at Jimmy, who had risen to hisfeet.

  "How do you do, Mr. McEachern?"

  The ex-policeman continued to stare.

  "Father," said Molly in distress. "Father, let me present--I mean,don't you remember Jimmy? You must remember Jimmy, father! Jimmy Pitt,whom you used to know in New York."