The Jeeves Omnibus - Vol 3

by Wodehouse, P. G.

  ‘I received that impression, Sir Roderick.’

  ‘Dash it all, I was only saying that stuff about marriage to cheer you up, Bill. Jeeves, where can I get some flowers? And don’t say “At the flower shop”, because I simply can’t sweat all the way to the town. Would there be flowers in the garden?’

  ‘In some profusion, Sir Roderick.’

  ‘I’ll go and pluck her a bouquet. That’s a thing you’ll find it useful to remember, Bill, if ever you get married, not that you’re likely to, of course, the way things are shaping. Always remember that when the gentler sex get miffed, flowers will bring them round every time.’

  The door closed. Jeeves turned to Bill.

  ‘Your lordship wished to see me about something?’ he said courteously.

  Bill passed a hand over his throbbing brow.

  ‘Jeeves,’ he said, ‘I hardly know how to begin. Have you an aspirin about you?’

  ‘Certainly, m’lord. I have just been taking one myself.’

  He produced a small tin box, and held it out.

  ‘Thank you, Jeeves. Don’t slam the lid.’

  ‘No, m’lord.’

  ‘And now,’ said Bill, ‘to tell you all.’

  Jeeves listened with gratifyingly close attention while he poured out his tale. There was no need for Bill at its conclusion to ask him if he had got the gist. It was plain from the gravity of his ‘Most disturbing, m’lord’ that he had got it nicely. Jeeves always got gists.

  ‘If ever a man was in the soup,’ said Bill, summing up, ‘I am. I have been played up and made a sucker of. What are those things people get used as, Jeeves?’

  ‘Cat’s-paws, m’lord?’

  ‘That’s right. Cat’s-paws. This blighted Biggar has used me as a cat’s-paw. He told me the tale. Like an ass, I believed him. I pinched the pendant, swallowing that whole story of his about it practically belonging to him and he only wanted to borrow it for a few hours, and off he went to London with it, and I don’t suppose we shall ever see him again. Do you?’

  ‘It would appear improbable, m’lord.’

  ‘One of those remote contingencies, what?’

  ‘Extremely remote, I fear, m’lord.’

  ‘You wouldn’t care to kick me, Jeeves?’

  ‘No, m’lord.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to kick myself, but it’s so dashed difficult if you aren’t a contortionist. All that stuff about stingahs and long bars and the chap Sycamore! We ought to have seen through it in an instant.’

  ‘We ought, indeed, m’lord.’

  ‘I suppose that when a man has a face as red as that, one tends to feel that he must be telling the truth.’

  ‘Very possibly, m’lord.’

  ‘And his eyes were so bright and blue. Well, there it is,’ said Bill. ‘Whether it was the red face or the blue eyes that did it, one cannot say, but the fact remains that as a result of the general colour scheme I allowed myself to be used as a cat’s-paw and pinched an expensive pendant which the hellhound Biggar has gone off to London with, thus rendering myself liable to an extended sojourn in the cooler … unless –’

  ‘M’lord?’

  ‘I was going to say “Unless you have something to suggest.” Silly of me,’ said Bill, with a hollow laugh. ‘How could you possibly have anything to suggest?’

  ‘I have, m’lord.’

  Bill stared.

  ‘You wouldn’t try to be funny at a time like this, Jeeves?’

  ‘Certainly not, m’lord.’

  ‘You really have a life-belt to throw me before the gumbo closes over my head?’

  ‘Yes, m’lord. In the first place, I would point out to your lordship that there is little or no likelihood of your lordship becoming suspect of the theft of Mrs Spottsworth’s ornament. It has disappeared. Captain Biggar has disappeared. The authorities will put two and two together, m’lord, and automatically credit him with the crime.’

  ‘Something in that.’

  ‘It would seem impossible, m’lord, for them to fall into any other train of thought.’

  Bill brightened a little, but only a little.

  ‘Well, that’s all to the good, I agree, but it doesn’t let me out. You’ve overlooked something, Jeeves.’

  ‘M’lord?’

  ‘The honour of the Rowcesters. That is the snag we come up against. I can’t go through life feeling that under my own roof – leaky, but still a roof – I have swiped a valuable pendant from a guest filled to the eyebrows with my salt. How am I to reimburse La Spottsworth? That is the problem to which we have to bend our brains.’

  ‘I was about to touch on that point, m’lord. Your lordship will recall that in speaking of suspicion falling upon Captain Biggar I said “In the first place”. In the second place, I was about to add, restitution can readily be made to Mrs Spottsworth, possibly in the form of notes to the correct amount dispatched anonymously to her address, if the lady can be persuaded to purchase Rowcester Abbey.’

  ‘Great Scott, Jeeves!’

  ‘M’lord?’

  ‘The reason I used the expression “Great Scott!”’ said Bill, his emotion still causing him to quiver from head to foot, ‘was that in the rush and swirl of recent events I had absolutely forgotten all about selling the house. Of course! That would fix up everything, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Unquestionably, m’lord. Even a sale at a sacrifice price would enable your lordship to do –’

  ‘The square thing?’

  ‘Precisely, m’lord. I may add that while on our way to the ruined chapel last night, Mrs Spottsworth spoke in high terms of the charms of Rowcester Abbey and was equally cordial in her remarks as we were returning. All in all, m’lord, I would say that the prospects were distinctly favourable, and if I might offer the suggestion, I think that your lordship should now withdraw to the library and obtain material for what is termed a sales talk by skimming through the advertisements in Country Life, in which, as your lordship is possibly aware, virtually every large house which has been refused as a gift by the National Trust is offered for sale. The language is extremely persuasive.’

  ‘Yes, I know the sort of thing. “This lordly demesne, with its avenues of historic oaks, its tumbling streams alive with trout and tench, its breath-taking vistas lined with flowering shrubs …” Yes, I’ll bone up.’

  ‘It might possibly assist your lordship if I were to bring a small bottle of champagne to the library.’

  ‘You think of everything, Jeeves.’

  ‘Your lordship is too kind.’

  ‘Half a bot should do the trick.’

  ‘I think so, m’lord, if adequately iced.’

  It was some minutes later, as Jeeves was passing through the living room with the brain-restorer on a small tray, that Jill came in through the french window.

  19

  * * *

  IT IS A characteristic of women as a sex, and one that does credit to their gentle hearts, that – unless they are gangsters’ molls or something of that kind – they shrink from the thought of violence. Even when love is dead, they dislike the idea of the man to whom they were once betrothed receiving a series of juicy ones from a horsewhip in the competent hands of an elderly, but still muscular, chief constable of a county. When they hear such a chief constable sketching out plans for an operation of this nature, their instinct is to hurry to the prospective victim’s residence and warn him of his peril by outlining the shape of things to come.

  It was to apprise Bill of her father’s hopes and dreams that Jill had come to Rowcester Abbey and, not being on speaking terms with her former fiancé, she had been wondering a little how the information she was bringing could be conveyed to him. The sight of Jeeves cleared up this point. A few words of explanation to Jeeves, coupled with the suggestion that he should advise Bill to lie low till the old gentleman had blown over, would accomplish what she had in mind, and she could then go home again, her duty done and the whole unpleasant affair disposed of.

  ‘Oh, Jeeves,’ she
said.

  Jeeves had turned, and was regarding her with respectful benevolence.

  ‘Good afternoon, miss. You will find his lordship in the library.’

  Jill stiffened haughtily. There was not much of her, but what there was she drew to its full height.

  ‘No, I won’t,’ she replied in a voice straight from the frigidaire, ‘because I’m jolly well not going there. I haven’t the slightest wish to speak to Lord Rowcester. I want you to give him a message.’

  ‘Very good, miss.’

  ‘Tell him my father is coming here to borrow his horsewhip to horsewhip him with.’

  ‘Miss?’

  ‘It’s quite simple, isn’t it? You know my father?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  ‘And you know what a horsewhip is?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  ‘Well, tell Lord Rowcester the combination is on its way over.’

  ‘And if his lordship should express curiosity as to the reason for Colonel Wyvern’s annoyance?’

  ‘You may say it’s because I told him about what happened last night. Or this morning, to be absolutely accurate. At two o’clock this morning. He’ll understand.’

  ‘At two o’clock this morning, miss? That would have been at about the hour when I was escorting Mrs Spottsworth to the ruined chapel. The lady had expressed a wish to establish contact with the apparition of Lady Agatha. The wife of Sir Caradoc the Crusader, miss, who did well, I believe, at the Battle of Joppa. She is reputed to haunt the ruined chapel.’

  Jill collapsed into a chair. A sudden wild hope, surging through the cracks in her broken heart, had shaken her from stem to stern, making her feel boneless.

  ‘What … what did you say?’

  Jeeves was a kindly man, and not only a kindly man but a man who could open a bottle of champagne as quick as a flash. It was in something of the spirit of the Sir Philip Sidney who gave the water to the stretcher case that he now whisked the cork from the bottle he was carrying. Jill’s need, he felt, was greater than Bill’s.

  ‘Permit me, miss.’

  Jill drank gratefully. Her eyes had widened, and the colour was returning to her face.

  ‘Jeeves, this is a matter of life and death,’ she said. ‘At two o’clock this morning I saw Lord Rowcester coming out of Mrs Spottsworth’s room looking perfectly frightful in mauve pyjamas. Are you telling me that Mrs Spottsworth was not there?’

  ‘Precisely, miss. She was with me in the ruined chapel, holding me spellbound with her account of recent investigations of the Society of Psychical Research.’

  ‘Then what was Lord Rowcester doing in her room?’

  ‘Purloining the lady’s pendant, miss.’

  It was unfortunate that as he said these words Jill should have been taking a sip of champagne, for she choked. And as her companion would have considered it a liberty to slap her on the back, it was some moments before she was able to speak.

  ‘Purloining Mrs Spottsworth’s pendant?’

  ‘Yes, miss. It is a long and somewhat intricate story, but if you would care for me to run through the salient points, I should be delighted to do so. Would it interest you to hear the inside history of his lordship’s recent activities, culminating, as I have indicated, in the abstracting of Mrs Spottsworth’s ornament?’

  Jill drew in her breath with a hiss.

  ‘Yes, Jeeves, it would.’

  ‘Very good, miss. Then must I speak of one who loved not wisely but too well, of one whose subdued eyes, albeit unused to the melting mood, drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees their medicinal gum.’

  ‘Jeeves!’

  ‘Miss?’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  Jeeves looked a little hurt.

  ‘I was endeavouring to explain that it was for love of you, miss, that his lordship became a Silver Ring bookmaker.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘Having plighted his troth to you, miss, his lordship felt – rightly, in my opinion – that in order to support a wife he would require a considerably larger income than he had been enjoying up to that moment. After weighing and rejecting the claims of other professions, he decided to embark on the career of a bookmaker in the Silver Ring, trading under the name of Honest Patch Perkins. I officiated as his lordship’s clerk. We wore false moustaches.’

  Jill opened her mouth, then, as if feeling that any form of speech would be inadequate, closed it again.

  ‘For a time the venture paid very handsomely. In three days at Doncaster we were so fortunate as to amass no less a sum than four hundred and twenty pounds, and it was in optimistic mood that we proceeded to Epsom for the Oaks. But disaster was lurking in wait for his lordship. To use the metaphor that the tide turned would be inaccurate. What smote his lordship was not so much the tide as a single tidal wave. Captain Biggar, miss. He won a double at his lordship’s expense – five pounds on Lucy Glitters at a hundred to six, all to come on Whistler’s Mother, SP.’

  Jill spoke faintly.

  ‘What was the SP.?’

  ‘I deeply regret to say, miss, thirty-three to one. And as he had rashly refused to lay the wager off, this cataclysm left his lordship in the unfortunate position of owing Captain Biggar in excess of three thousand pounds, with no assets with which to meet his obligations.’

  ‘Golly!’

  ‘Yes, miss. His lordship was compelled to make a somewhat hurried departure from the course, followed by Captain Biggar shouting “Welsher!”, but when we were able to shake off our pursuer’s challenge some ten miles from the abbey, we were hoping that the episode was concluded and that to Captain Biggar his lordship would remain merely a vague, unidentified figure in a moustache by Clarkson. But it was not to be, miss. The captain tracked his lordship here, penetrated his incognito and demanded an immediate settlement.’

  ‘But Bill had no money.’

  ‘Precisely, miss. His lordship did not omit to stress that point. And it was then that Captain Biggar proposed that his lordship should secure possession of Mrs Spottsworth’s pendant, asserting, when met with a nolle prosequi on his lordship’s part, that the object in question had been given by him to the lady some years ago, so that he was morally entitled to borrow it. The story, on reflection, seems somewhat thin, but it was told with so great a wealth of corroborative detail that it convinced us at the time, and his lordship, who had been vowing that he would ne’er consent, consented. Do I make myself clear, miss?’

  ‘Quite clear. You don’t mind my head swimming?’

  ‘Not at all, miss. The question then arose of how the operation was to be carried through, and eventually it was arranged that I should lure Mrs Spottsworth from her room on the pretext that Lady Agatha had been seen in the ruined chapel, and during her absence his lordship should enter and obtain the trinket. This ruse proved successful. The pendant was duly handed to Captain Biggar, who has taken it to London with the purpose of pawning it and investing the proceeds on the Irish horse, Ballymore, concerning whose chances he is extremely sanguine. As regards his lordship’s mauve pyjamas, to which you made a derogatory allusion a short while back, I am hoping to convince his lordship that a quiet blue or a pistachio green –’

  But Jill was not interested in the Rowcester pyjamas and the steps which were being taken to correct their mauveness. She was hammering on the library door.

  ‘Bill! Bill!’ she cried, like a woman wailing for her demon lover, and Bill, hearing that voice, came out with the promptitude of a cork extracted by Jeeves from a bottle.

  ‘Oh, Bill!’ said Jill, flinging herself into his arms. ‘Jeeves has told me everything!’

  Over the head that rested on his chest Bill shot an anxious glance at Jeeves.

  ‘When you say everything, do you mean everything?’

  ‘Yes, m’lord. I deemed it advisable.’

  ‘I know all about Honest Patch Perkins and your moustache and Captain Biggar and Whistler’s Mother and Mrs Spottsworth and the pendant,’ said Jill, nestling clos
ely.

  It seemed so odd to Bill that a girl who knew all this should be nestling closely that he was obliged to release her for a moment and step across and take a sip of champagne.

  ‘And you really mean,’ he said, returning and folding her in his embrace once more, ‘that you don’t recoil from me in horror?’

  ‘Of course I don’t recoil from you in horror. Do I look as if I were recoiling from you in horror?’

  ‘Well, no,’ said Bill, having considered this. He kissed her lips, her forehead, her ears and the top of her head. ‘But the trouble is that you might just as well recoil from me in horror, because I don’t see how the dickens we’re ever going to get married. I haven’t a bean, and I’ve somehow got to raise a small fortune to pay Mrs Spottsworth for her pendant. Noblesse oblige, if you follow my drift. So if I don’t sell her the house –’

  ‘Of course you’ll sell her the house.’

  ‘Shall I? I wonder – I’ll certainly try. Where on earth’s she disappeared to? She was in here when I came through into the library just now. I wish she’d show up. I’m all full of that Country Life stuff, and if she doesn’t come soon, it will evaporate.’

  ‘Excuse me, m’lord,’ said Jeeves, who during the recent exchanges had withdrawn discreetly to the window. ‘Mrs Spottsworth and her ladyship are at this moment crossing the lawn.’

  With a courteous gesture he stepped to one side, and Mrs Spottsworth entered, followed by Monica.

  ‘Jill!’ cried Monica, halting, amazed. ‘Good heavens!’

  ‘Oh, it’s all right,’ said Jill. ‘There’s been a change in the situation. Sweethearts still.’

  ‘Well, that’s fine. I’ve been showing Rosalinda round the place –’

  ‘– with its avenues of historic oaks, its tumbling streams alive with trout and tench, and its breath-taking vistas lined with flowering shrubs … How did you like it?’ said Bill.

  Mrs Spottsworth clasped her hands and closed her eyes in an ecstasy.

  ‘It’s wonderful, wonderful!’ she said. ‘I can’t understand how you can bring yourself to part with it, Billiken.’