‘Well, I wish,’ said Bicky, gloomily ‘that he knew a way to get me out of the hole I’m in.’
‘Mr Bickersteth is in a hole, Jeeves,’ I said, ‘and wants you to rally round.’
‘Very good, sir.’
Bicky looked a bit doubtful.
‘Well, of course, you know, Bertie, this thing is by way of being a bit private and all that.’
‘I shouldn’t worry about that, old top. I bet Jeeves knows all about it already. Don’t you, Jeeves?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Eh?’ said Bicky, rattled.
‘I am open to correction, sir, but is not your dilemma due to the fact that you are at a loss to explain to His Grace why you are in New York instead of in Colorado?’
Bicky rocked like a jelly in a high wind.
‘How the deuce do you know anything about it?’
‘I chanced to meet His Grace’s butler before we left England. He informed me that he happened to overhear His Grace speaking to you on the matter, sir, as he passed the library door.’
Bicky gave a hollow sort of laugh.
‘Well, as everybody seems to know all about it, there’s no need to try to keep it dark. The old boy turfed me out, Bertie, because he said I was a brainless nincompoop. The idea was that he would give me a remittance on condition that I dashed out to some blighted locality of the name of Colorado and learned farming or ranching, or whatever they call it, at some bally ranch or farm, or whatever it’s called. I didn’t fancy the idea a bit. I should have had to ride horses and pursue cows, and so forth. At the same time, don’t you know, I had to have that remittance.’
‘I get you absolutely, old thing.’
‘Well, when I got to New York it looked a decent sort of place to me, so I thought it would be a pretty sound notion to stop here. So I cabled to my uncle telling him that I had dropped into a good business wheeze in the city and wanted to chuck the ranch idea. He wrote back that it was all right, and here I’ve been ever since. He thinks I’m doing well at something or other over here. I never dreamed, don’t you know, that he would ever come out here. What on earth am I to do?’
‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘what on earth is Mr Bickersteth to do?’
‘You see,’ said Bicky, ‘I had a wireless from him to say that he was coming to stay with me – to save hotel bills, I suppose. I’ve always given him the impression that I was living in pretty good style. I can’t have him to stay at my boarding-house.’
‘Thought of anything, Jeeves?’ I said.
‘To what extent, sir, if the question is not a delicate one, are you prepared to assist Mr Bickersteth?’
‘I’ll do anything I can for you, of course, Bicky, old man.’
‘Then, if I might make the suggestion, sir, you might lend Mr Bickersteth—’
‘No, by Jove!’ said Bicky firmly. ‘I never have touched you, Bertie, and I’m not going to start now. I may be a chump, but it’s my boast that I don’t owe a penny to a single soul – not counting tradesmen, of course.’
‘I was about to suggest, sir, that you might lend Mr Bickersteth this flat. Mr Bickersteth could give His Grace the impression that he was the owner of it. With your permission I could convey the notion that I was in Mr Bickersteth’s employment and not in yours. You would be residing here temporarily as Mr Bickersteth’s guest. His Grace would occupy the second spare bedroom. I fancy that you would find this answer satisfactorily, sir.’
Bicky had stopped rocking himself and was staring at Jeeves in an awed sort of way.
‘I would advocate the dispatching of a wireless message to His Grace on board the vessel, notifying him of the change of address. Mr Bickersteth could meet His Grace at the dock and proceed directly here. Will that meet the situation, sir?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Bicky followed him with his eye till the door closed.
‘How does he do it, Bertie?’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you what I think it is. I believe it’s something to do with the shape of his head. Have you ever noticed his head, Bertie, old man? It sort of sticks out at the back!’
I hopped out of bed pretty early next morning, so as to be among those present when the old boy should arrive. I knew from experience that these ocean liners fetch up at the dock at a deucedly ungodly hour. It wasn’t much after nine by the time I’d dressed and had my morning tea and was leaning out of the window, watching the street for Bicky and his uncle. It was one of those jolly, peaceful mornings that make a chappie wish he’d got a soul or something, and I was just brooding on life in general when I became aware of the dickens of a spat in progress down below. A taxi had driven up, and an old boy in a top hat had got out and was kicking up a frightful row about the fare. As far as I could make out, he was trying to get the cabby to switch from New York to London prices, and the cabby had apparently never heard of London before, and didn’t seem to think a lot of it now. The old boy said that in London the trip would have set him back a shilling; and the cabby said he should worry. I called to Jeeves.
‘The duke has arrived, Jeeves.’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘That’ll be him at the door now.’
Jeeves made a long arm and opened the front door, and the old boy crawled in.
‘How do you do, sir?’ I said, bustling up and being the ray of sunshine. ‘Your nephew went down to the dock to meet you, but you must have missed him. My name’s Wooster, don’t you know. Great pal of Bicky’s, and all that sort of thing. I’m staying with him, you know. Would you like a cup of tea? Jeeves, bring a cup of tea.’
Old Chiswick had sunk into an arm-chair and was looking about the room.
‘Does this luxurious flat belong to my nephew Francis?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘It must be terribly expensive.’
‘Pretty well, of course. Everything costs a lot over here, you know.’
He moaned. Jeeves filtered in with the tea. Old Chiswick took a stab at it to restore his tissues, and nodded.
‘A terrible country, Mr Wooster! A terrible country. Nearly eight shillings for a short cab-drive. Iniquitous!’ He took another look round the room. It seemed to fascinate him. ‘Have you any idea how much my nephew pays for this flat, Mr Wooster?’
‘About two hundred dollars a month, I believe.’
‘What! Forty pounds a month!’
I began to see that, unless I made the thing a bit more plausible, the scheme might turn out a frost. I could guess what the old boy was thinking. He was trying to square all this prosperity with what he knew of poor old Bicky. And one had to admit that it took a lot of squaring, for dear old Bicky, though a stout fellow and absolutely unrivalled as an imitator of bull-terriers and cats, was in many ways one of the most pronounced fatheads that ever pulled on a suit of gents’ underwear.
‘I suppose it seems rummy to you,’ I said, ‘but the fact is New York often bucks fellows up and makes them show a flash of speed that you wouldn’t have imagined them capable of. It sort of develops them. Something in the air, don’t you know. I imagine that Bicky in the past, when you knew him, may have been something of a chump, but it’s quite different now. Devilish efficient sort of bird, and looked on in commercial circles as quite the nib!’
‘I am amazed! What is the nature of my nephew’s business, Mr Wooster?’
‘Oh, just business, don’t you know. The same sort of thing Rockefeller and all these coves do, you know.’ I slid for the door. ‘Awfully sorry to leave you, but I’ve got to meet some of the lads elsewhere.’
Coming out of the lift I met Bicky bustling in from the street.
‘Hallo, Bertie. I missed him. Has he turned up?’
‘He’s upstairs now, having some tea.’
‘What does he think of it all?’
‘He’s absolutely rattled.’
‘Ripping! I’ll be toddling up, then. Toodle-oo, Bertie, old man. See you later.’
‘Pip-pip, Bicky, dear boy.’
&nb
sp; He trotted off, full of merriment and good cheer, and I went off to the club to sit in the window and watch the traffic coming up one way and going down the other.
It was latish in the evening when I looked in at the flat to dress for dinner.
‘Where’s everybody, Jeeves?’ I said, finding no little feet pattering about the place. ‘Gone out?’
‘His Grace desired to see some of the sights of the city, sir. Mr Bickersteth is acting as his escort. I fancy their immediate objective was Grant’s Tomb.’
‘I suppose Mr Bickersteth is a bit bucked at the way things are going – what?’
‘Sir?’
‘I say, I take it that Mr Bickersteth is tolerably full of beans.’
‘Not altogether, sir.’
‘What’s his trouble now?’
‘The scheme which I took the liberty of suggesting to Mr Bickersteth and yourself has, unfortunately, not answered entirely satisfactorily, sir.’
‘Surely the duke believes that Mr Bickersteth is doing well in business, and all that sort of thing?’
‘Exactly, sir. With the result that he has decided to cancel Mr Bickersteth’s monthly allowance, on the ground that, as Mr Bickersteth is doing so well on his own account, he no longer requires pecuniary assistance.’
‘Great Scott, Jeeves! This is awful!’
‘Somewhat disturbing, sir.’
‘I never expected anything like this!’
‘I confess I scarcely anticipated the contingency myself, sir.’
‘I suppose it bowled the poor blighter over absolutely?’
‘Mr Bickersteth appeared somewhat taken aback, sir.’
My heart bled for Bicky.
‘We must do something, Jeeves.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Can you think of anything?’
‘Not at the moment, sir.’
‘There must be something we can do.’
‘It was a maxim of one of my former employers, sir – as I believe I mentioned to you once before – the present Lord Bridgworth, that there is always a way. No doubt we shall be able to discover some solution of Mr Bickersteth’s difficulty, sir.’
‘Well, have a stab at it, Jeeves.’
‘I will spare no pains, sir.’
I went and dressed sadly. It will show you pretty well how pipped I was when I tell you that I as near as a toucher put on a white tie with a dinner-jacket. I sallied out for a bit of food, more to pass the time than because I wanted it. It seemed brutal to be wading into the bill of fare with poor old Bicky headed for the breadline.
When I got back old Chiswick had gone to bed, but Bicky was there, hunched up in an arm-chair, brooding pretty tensely, with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth and a more or less glassy stare in his eyes.
‘This is a bit thick, old thing – what!’ I said.
He picked up his glass and drained it feverishly, overlooking the fact that it hadn’t anything in it.
‘I’m done, Bertie!’ he said.
He had another go at the glass. It didn’t seem to do him any good.
‘If only this had happened a week later, Bertie! My next month’s money was due to roll in on Saturday. I could have worked a wheeze I’ve been reading about in the magazine advertisements. It seems that you can make a dashed amount of money if you can only collect a few dollars and start a chicken-farm. Jolly life, too, keeping hens!’ He had begun to get quite worked up at the thought of it, but he slopped back in his chair at this juncture with a good deal of gloom. ‘But, of course, it’s no good,’ he said, ‘because I haven’t the cash.’
‘You’ve only to say the word, you know, Bicky, old top.’
‘Thanks awfully, Bertie, but I’m not going to sponge on you.’
That’s always the way in this world. The chappies you’d like to lend money to won’t let you, whereas the chappies you don’t want to lend it to will do everything except actually stand you on your head and lift the specie out of your pockets. As a lad who has always rolled tolerably freely in the right stuff, I’ve had lots of experience of the second class. Many’s the time, back in London, I’ve hurried along Piccadilly and felt the hot breath of the toucher on the back of my neck and heard his sharp, excited yapping as he closed in on me. I’ve simply spent my life scattering largesse to blighters I didn’t care a hang for; yet here was I now, dripping doubloons and pieces of eight and longing to hand them over, and Bicky, poor fish, absolutely on his uppers, not taking any at any price.
‘Well, there’s only one hope then.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Jeeves.’
‘Sir?’
There was Jeeves, standing behind me, full of zeal. In this matter of shimmering into rooms the man is rummy to a degree. You’re sitting in the old arm-chair thinking of this and that, and then suddenly you look up, and there he is. He moves from point to point with as little uproar as a jelly-fish. The thing startled poor old Bicky considerably. He rose from his seat like a rocketing pheasant. I’m used to Jeeves now, but often in the days when he first came to me I’ve bitten my tongue freely on finding him unexpectedly in my midst.
‘Did you call, sir?’
‘Oh, there you are, Jeeves!’
‘Precisely, sir.’
‘Any ideas, Jeeves?’
‘Why, yes, sir. Since we had our recent conversation I fancy I have found what may prove a solution. I do not wish to appear to be taking a liberty, sir, but I think that we have overlooked His Grace’s potentialities as a source of revenue.’
Bicky laughed what I have sometimes seen described as a hollow, mocking laugh, a sort of bitter cackle from the back of the throat, rather like a gargle.
‘I do not allude, sir,’ explained, Jeeves, ‘to the possibility of inducing His Grace to part with money. I am taking the liberty of regarding His Grace in the light of an at present – if I may say so – useless property, which is capable of being developed.’
Bicky looked at me in a helpless kind of way. I’m bound to say I didn’t get it myself.
‘Couldn’t you make it a bit easier, Jeeves?’
‘In a nutshell, sir, what I mean is this. His Grace is, in a sense, a prominent personage. The inhabitants of this country, as no doubt you are aware, sir, are peculiarly addicted to shaking hands with prominent personages. It occurred to me that Mr Bickersteth or yourself might know of persons who would be willing to pay a small fee – let us say two dollars or three – for the privilege of an introduction, including handshake, to His Grace.’
Bicky didn’t seem to think much of it.
‘Do you mean to say that anyone would be mug enough to part with solid cash just to shake hands with my uncle?’
‘I have an aunt, sir, who paid five shillings to a young fellow for bringing a moving-picture actor to tea at her house one Sunday. It gave her social standing among the neighbours.’
Bicky wavered.
‘If you think it could be done—’
‘I feel convinced of it, sir.’
‘What do you think, Bertie?’
‘I’m for it, old boy, absolutely. A very brainy wheeze.’
‘Thank you, sir. Will there be anything further? Good night, sir.’
And he flitted out, leaving us to discuss details.
Until we started this business of floating old Chiswick as a money-making proposition I had never realised what a perfectly foul time those Stock Exchange fellows must have when the public isn’t biting freely. Nowadays I read that bit they put in the financial reports about ‘The market opened quietly’ with a sympathetic eye, for, by Jove, it certainly opened quietly for us. You’d hardly believe how difficult it was to interest the public and make them take a flutter on the old boy. By the end of a week the only name we had on our list was a delicatessen-store keeper down in Bicky’s part of the town, and as he wanted us to take it out in sliced ham instead of cash that didn’t help much. There was a gleam of light when the brother of Bicky’s pawnbroker offered ten dollars, money
down, for an introduction to old Chiswick, but the deal fell through, owing to its turning out that the chap was an anarchist and intended to kick the old boy instead of shaking hands with him. At that, it took me the deuce of a time to persuade Bicky not to grab the cash and let things take their course. He seemed to regard the pawnbroker’s brother rather as a sportsman and benefactor of his species than otherwise.
The whole thing, I’m inclined to think, would have been off if it hadn’t been for Jeeves. There is no doubt that Jeeves is in a class of his own. In the matter of brain and resource I don’t think I have ever met a chappie so supremely like mother made. He trickled into my room one morning with the good old cup of tea, and intimated that there was something doing.
‘Might I speak to you with regard to that matter of His Grace, sir?’
‘It’s all off. We’ve decided to chuck it.’
‘Sir?’
‘It won’t work. We can’t get anybody to come.’
‘I fancy I can arrange that aspect of the matter, sir.’
‘Do you mean to say you’ve managed to get anybody?’
‘Yes, sir. Eighty-seven gentlemen from Birdsburg, sir.’
I sat up in bed and spilt the tea.
‘Birdsburg?’
‘Birdsburg, Missouri, sir.’
‘How did you get them?’
‘I happened last night, sir, as you had intimated that you would be absent from home, to attend a theatrical performance, and entered into conversation between the acts with the occupant of the adjoining seat. I had observed that he was wearing a somewhat ornate decoration in his buttonhole, sir – a large blue button with the words “Boost for Birdsburg” upon it in red letters, scarcely a judicious addition to a gentleman’s evening costume. To my surprise I noticed that the auditorium was full of persons similarly decorated. I ventured to inquire the explanation, and was informed that these gentlemen, forming a party of eighty-seven, are a convention from a town of the name of Birdsburg in the State of Missouri. Their visit, I gathered, was purely of a social and pleasurable nature, and my informant spoke at some length of the entertainments arranged for their stay in the city. It was when he related with a considerable amount of satisfaction and pride that a deputation of their number had been introduced to and had shaken hands with a well-known prize-fighter that it occurred to me to broach the subject of His Grace. To make a long story short, sir, I have arranged, subject to your approval, that the entire convention shall be presented to His Grace to-morrow afternoon.’
Carry On, Jeeves! Page 8