Uneasy Money

by P. G. Wodehouse

  14

  It was Nutty Boyd's habit to retire immediately after dinner tohis bedroom. What he did there Elizabeth did not know. Sometimesshe pictured him reading, sometimes thinking. Neither suppositionwas correct. Nutty never read. Newspapers bored him and books madehis head ache. And as for thinking, he had the wrong shape offorehead. The nearest he ever got to meditation was a sort oftrance-like state, a kind of suspended animation in which his minddrifted sluggishly like a log in a backwater. Nutty, it isregrettable to say, went to his room after dinner for the purposeof imbibing two or three surreptitious whiskies-and-sodas.

  He behaved in this way, he told himself, purely in order to spareElizabeth anxiety. There had been in the past a fool of a doctorwho had prescribed total abstinence for Nutty, and Elizabeth knewthis. Therefore, Nutty held, to take the mildest of drinks withher knowledge would have been to fill her with fears for hissafety. So he went to considerable inconvenience to keep thematter from her notice, and thought rather highly of himself fordoing so.

  It certainly was inconvenient--there was no doubt of that. It madehim feel like a cross between a hunted fawn and a burglar. But hehad to some extent diminished the possibility of surprise byleaving his door open; and to-night he approached the cupboardwhere he kept the materials for refreshment with a certainconfidence. He had left Elizabeth on the porch in a hammock,apparently anchored for some time. Lord Dawlish was out in thegrounds somewhere. Presently he would come in and join Elizabethon the porch. The risk of interruption was negligible.

  Nutty mixed himself a drink and settled down to brood bitterly, ashe often did, on the doctor who had made that disastrousstatement. Doctors were always saying things like that--sweepingthings which nervous people took too literally. It was true thathe had been in pretty bad shape at the moment when the words hadbeen spoken. It was just at the end of his Broadway career, when,as he handsomely admitted, there was a certain amount of truth inthe opinion that his interior needed a vacation. But since then hehad been living in the country, breathing good air, taking thingseasy. In these altered conditions and after this lapse of time itwas absurd to imagine that a moderate amount of alcohol could dohim any harm.

  It hadn't done him any harm, that was the point. He had tested thedoctor's statement and found it incorrect. He had spent threehectic days and nights in New York, and--after a reasonableinterval--had felt much the same as usual. And since then he hadimbibed each night, and nothing had happened. What it came to wasthat the doctor was a chump and a blighter. Simply that andnothing more.

  Having come to this decision, Nutty mixed another drink. He wentto the head of the stairs and listened. He heard nothing. Hereturned to his room.

  Yes, that was it, the doctor was a chump. So far from doing himany harm, these nightly potations brightened Nutty up, gave himheart, and enabled him to endure life in this hole of a place. Hefelt a certain scornful amusement. Doctors, he supposed, had toget off that sort of talk to earn their money.

  He reached out for the bottle, and as he grasped it his eye wascaught by something on the floor. A brown monkey with a long, greytail was sitting there staring at him.

  There was one of those painful pauses. Nutty looked at the monkeyrather like an elongated Macbeth inspecting the ghost of Banquo.The monkey looked at Nutty. The pause continued. Nutty shut hiseyes, counted ten slowly, and opened them.

  The monkey was still there.

  'Boo!' said Nutty, in an apprehensive undertone.

  The monkey looked at him.

  Nutty shut his eyes again. He would count sixty this time. A coldfear had laid its clammy fingers on his heart. This was what thatdoctor--not such a chump after all--must have meant!

  Nutty began to count. There seemed to be a heavy lump inside him,and his mouth was dry; but otherwise he felt all right. That wasthe gruesome part of it--this dreadful thing had come upon him ata moment when he could have sworn that he was sound as a bell. Ifthis had happened in the days when he ranged the Great White Way,sucking up deleterious moisture like a cloud, it would have beenintelligible. But it had sneaked upon him like a thief in thenight; it had stolen unheralded into his life when he hadpractically reformed. What was the good of practically reformingif this sort of thing was going to happen to one?

  '... Fifty-nine ... sixty.'

  He opened his eyes. The monkey was still there, in precisely thesame attitude, as if it was sitting for its portrait. Panic surgedupon Nutty. He lost his head completely. He uttered a wild yelland threw the bottle at the apparition.

  Life had not been treating Eustace well that evening. He seemed tohave happened upon one of those days when everything goes wrong.The cat had scratched him, the odd-job man had swathed him in anapron, and now this stranger, in whom he had found at first apleasant restfulness, soothing after the recent scenes of violencein which he had participated, did this to him. He dodged themissile and clambered on to the top of the wardrobe. It was hisinstinct in times of stress to seek the high spots. And thenElizabeth hurried into the room.

  Elizabeth had been lying in the hammock on the porch when herbrother's yell had broken forth. It was a lovely, calm, moonlightnight, and she had been revelling in the peace of it, whensuddenly this outcry from above had shot her out of her hammocklike an explosion. She ran upstairs, fearing she knew not what.She found Nutty sitting on the bed, looking like an overwroughtgiraffe.

  'Whatever is the--?' she began; and then things began to impressthemselves on her senses.

  The bottle which Nutty had thrown at Eustace had missed thelatter, but it had hit the wall, and was now lying in many pieceson the floor, and the air was heavy with the scent of it. Theremains seemed to leer at her with a kind of furtive swagger,after the manner of broken bottles. A quick thrill of anger ranthrough Elizabeth. She had always felt more like a mother to Nuttythan a sister, and now she would have liked to exercise thematernal privilege of slapping him.

  'Nutty!'

  'I saw a monkey!' said her brother, hollowly. 'I was standing overthere and I saw a monkey! Of course, it wasn't there really. Iflung the bottle at it, and it seemed to climb on to thatwardrobe.'

  'This wardrobe?'

  'Yes.'

  Elizabeth struck it a resounding blow with the palm of her hand,and Eustace's face popped over the edge, peering down anxiously.'I can see it now,' said Nutty. A sudden, faint hope came to him.'Can you see it?' he asked.

  Elizabeth did not speak for a moment. This was an unusualsituation, and she was wondering how to treat it. She was sorryfor Nutty, but Providence had sent this thing and it would befoolish to reject it. She must look on herself in the light of adoctor. It would be kinder to Nutty in the end. She had thefeminine aversion from the lie deliberate. Her ethics on the_suggestio falsi_ were weak. She looked at Nutty questioningly.

  'See it?' she said.

  'Don't you see a monkey on the top of the wardrobe?' said Nutty,becoming more definite.

  'There's a sort of bit of wood sticking out--'

  Nutty sighed.

  'No, not that. You didn't see it. I don't think you would.'

  He spoke so dejectedly that for a moment Elizabeth weakened, butonly for an instant.

  'Tell me all about this, Nutty,' she said.

  Nutty was beyond the desire for evasion and concealment. His onewish was to tell. He told all.

  'But, Nutty, how silly of you!'

  'Yes.'

  'After what the doctor said.'

  'I know.'

  'You remember his telling you--'

  'I know. Never again!'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I quit. I'm going to give it up.'

  Elizabeth embraced him maternally.

  'That's a good child!' she said. 'You really promise?'

  'I don't have to promise, I'm just going to do it.'

  Elizabeth compromised with her conscience by becoming soothing.

  'You know, this isn't so very serious, Nutty, darling. I mean,it's just a warning.'

  'It's warned me all ri
ght.'

  'You will be perfectly all right if--'

  Nutty interrupted her.

  'You're sure you can't see anything?'

  'See what?'

  Nutty's voice became almost apologetic.

  'I know it's just imagination, but the monkey seems to me to beclimbing down from the wardrobe.'

  'I can't see anything climbing down the wardrobe,' said Elizabeth,as Eustace touched the floor.

  'It's come down now. It's crossing the carpet.'

  'Where?'

  'It's gone now. It went out of the door.'

  'Oh!'

  'I say, Elizabeth, what do you think I ought to do?'

  'I should go to bed and have a nice long sleep, and you'll feel--'

  'Somehow I don't feel much like going to bed. This sort of thingupsets a chap, you know.'

  'Poor dear!'

  'I think I'll go for a long walk.'

  'That's a splendid idea.'

  'I think I'd better do a good lot of walking from now on. Didn'tChalmers bring down some Indian clubs with him? I think I'llborrow them. I ought to keep out in the open a lot, I think. Iwonder if there's any special diet I ought to have. Well, anyway,I'll be going for that walk.'

  At the foot of the stairs Nutty stopped. He looked quickly intothe porch, then looked away again.

  'What's the matter?' asked Elizabeth.

  'I thought for a moment I saw the monkey sitting on the hammock.'

  He went out of the house and disappeared from view down the drive,walking with long, rapid strides.

  Elizabeth's first act, when he had gone, was to fetch a bananafrom the ice-box. Her knowledge of monkeys was slight, but shefancied they looked with favour on bananas. It was her intentionto conciliate Eustace.

  She had placed Eustace by now. Unlike Nutty, she read the papers,and she knew all about Lady Wetherby and her pets. The fact thatLady Wetherby, as she had been informed by the grocer in friendlytalk, had rented a summer house in the neighbourhood madeEustace's identity positive.

  She had no very clear plans as to what she intended to do withEustace, beyond being quite resolved that she was going to boardand lodge him for a few days. Nutty had had the jolt he needed,but it might be that the first freshness of it would wear away, inwhich event it would be convenient to have Eustace on thepremises. She regarded Eustace as a sort of medicine. A seconddose might not be necessary, but it was as well to have themixture handy. She took another banana, in case the first mightnot be sufficient. She then returned to the porch.

  Eustace was sitting on the hammock, brooding. The complexities oflife were weighing him down a good deal. He was not aware ofElizabeth's presence until he found her standing by him. He hadjust braced himself for flight, when he perceived that she borerich gifts.

  Eustace was always ready for a light snack--readier now thanusual, for air and exercise had sharpened his appetite. He tookthe banana in a detached manner, as it to convey the idea that itdid not commit him to any particular course of conduct. It was agood banana, and he stretched out a hand for the other. Elizabethsat down beside him, but he did not move. He was convinced now ofher good intentions. It was thus that Lord Dawlish found them whenhe came in from the garden.

  'Where has your brother gone to?' he asked. 'He passed me just nowat eight miles an hour. Great Scot! What's that?'

  'It's a monkey. Don't frighten him; he's rather nervous.'

  She tickled Eustace under the ear, for their relations were nowfriendly.

  'Nutty went for a walk because he thought he saw it.'

  'Thought he saw it?'

  'Thought he saw it,' repeated Elizabeth, firmly. 'Will youremember, Mr Chalmers, that, as far as he is concerned, thismonkey has no existence?'

  'I don't understand.'

  Elizabeth explained.

  'You see now?'

  'I see. But how long are you going to keep the animal?'

  'Just a day or two--in case.'

  'Where are you going to keep it?'

  'In the outhouse. Nutty never goes there, it's too near thebee-hives.'

  'I suppose you don't know who the owner is?'

  'Yes, I do; it must be Lady Wetherby.'

  'Lady Wetherby!'

  'She's a woman who dances at one of the restaurants. I read in aSunday paper about her monkey. She has just taken a house nearhere. I don't see who else the animal could belong to. Monkeys arerarities on Long Island.'

  Bill was silent. 'Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose,flushing his brow.' For days he had been trying to find an excusefor calling on Lady Wetherby as a first step toward meeting Claireagain. Here it was. There would be no need to interfere withElizabeth's plans. He would be vague. He would say he had justseen the runaway, but would not add where. He would create anatmosphere of helpful sympathy. Perhaps, later on, Elizabeth wouldlet him take the monkey back.

  'What are you thinking about?' asked Elizabeth.

  'Oh, nothing,' said Bill.

  'Perhaps we had better stow away our visitor for the night.'

  'Yes.'

  Elizabeth got up.

  'Poor, dear Nutty may be coming back at any moment now,' she said.

  But poor, dear Nutty did not return for a full two hours. When hedid he was dusty and tired, but almost cheerful.

  'I didn't see the brute once all the time I was out,' he toldElizabeth. 'Not once!'

  Elizabeth kissed him fondly and offered to heat water for a bath;but Nutty said he would take it cold. From now on, he vowed,nothing but cold baths. He conveyed the impression of being ablend of repentant sinner and hardy Norseman. Before he went tobed he approached Bill on the subject of Indian clubs.

  'I want to get myself into shape, old top,' he said.

  'Yes?'

  'I've got to cut it out--to-night I thought I saw a monkey.'

  'Really?'

  'As plain as I see you now.' Nutty gave the clubs a tentativeswing. 'What do you do with these darned things? Swing them aboutand all that? All right, I see the idea. Good night.'

  But Bill did not pass a good night. He lay awake long, thinkingover his plans for the morrow.