‘Thank you,’ said Lady Constance, but her tone as she offered these thanks was not warm. She replaced the receiver, breathed heavily once or twice, and went off on winged feet to see the Duke. The situation, to her mind, called for clarification, and he was the man to clarify it.
The doctor was with him when she burst into the bedroom, and she was obliged to wait fuming while he went about his bathing and bandaging, accompanying his activities with amiable observations on the weather and other subjects. At long last he said Well, we seem to be getting on quite nicely, and took his departure, and the Duke relit the cigar which he had temporarily laid aside.
‘Seems a pretty competent chap, that chap,’ he said. ‘What would he make a year, do you think? Can’t be much money in being a country doctor, though my fellow down in Wiltshire does fairly well. But then he has a number of good steady alcoholics, which always helps.’
Lady Constance was in no mood to speculate on the incomes of rural physicians. She plunged without delay into what lawyers call the res.
‘Alaric, I want to know all about this man Halliday.’
The Duke puffed at his cigar for some moments as if turning this demand over in his mind.
‘How do you mean all about him? I don’t know anything about him except that he’s Glossop’s junior partner and has the ruddy audacity to want to marry my niece. But I’ve put a stopper on that all right. She’s a ward of court and can’t get spliced without my consent, and he’s got about as much chance of getting that as he has of flying to the moon. If he thinks he can spend all his time bullocking people downstairs like a charging rhinoceros and expect to marry their nieces, he’s very much mistaken. He was in here last night trying to suck up to me, but I sent him off with a flea in his ear.’
Lady Constance had come to the room with the intention of confining the discussion of John to his claim to be a figure in the psychiatric world, but this extraordinary statement led her to broaden the scope of her enquiries.
‘What did you say?’ she gasped. ‘He wants to marry your niece?’
‘That’s what he says. In love with her, apparently.’
‘But he only got here last night. How can he be in love with her if he’s only known her a few hours?’
‘See that?’ said the Duke. ‘I’ve blown a ring.’
Lady Constance’s interest in smoke rings was on a par with that which she felt for the finances of members of the medical profession practising in the country. She repeated her question, and the Duke said Yes, that had puzzled him, too.
‘But Threepwood tells me the fellow’s known her for a long time. Been giving her ardent glances and bottles of scent for months, blast his impudence. Threepwood was saying something about their having quarrelled about something and the fellow jumped at the opportunity of coming here because he hoped that if he was on the spot he could square himself. He’s Threepwood’s godson, by the way. Just the sort of young hound who would be. Why are you looking like a dying duck?’
Lady Constance was looking like a dying duck because a sudden bright light had flashed upon her. The mists had cleared, and she saw what is generally described as all. She was in possession of the facts, and they could have only one interpretation. Like a serpent, though perhaps not altogether like a serpent, for serpents do draw the line somewhere, her brother Galahad had introduced another impostor into the castle.
Blandings Castle in recent years had been particularly rich in impostors. One or two of them had had other sponsors, but as a rule it was Gally who sneaked them in, and the realization that he had done it again filled her, as she had so often been filled before, with a passionate desire to skin him with a blunt knife.
Once, when they were children, Galahad had fallen into the deep pond in the kitchen garden, and just as he was about to sink for the third time one of the gardeners had come along and pulled him out. She was brooding now on the thoughtless folly of that misguided gardener. Half the trouble in the world, she was thinking, was caused by people not letting well alone.
She strode purposefully to the bell, and pressed it, a gesture that puzzled the Duke.
‘What,’ he asked, ‘do you think you’re doing?’
‘I am ringing for Beach.’
‘I don’t want Beach.’
‘I do,’ said Lady Constance grimly. ‘I am going to send him to tell Mr. Halliday that I would like a word with him.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was Gally’s practice, when he favoured Blandings Castle with a visit, to repair after breakfast to the hammock on the front lawn and there to ponder in comfort on whatever seemed to him worth pondering on. It might be the Cosmos or the situation in the Far East, it might be merely the problem of whether or not to risk a couple of quid on some horse running in the 2.30 at Catterick Bridge. This morning, as was natural in a conscientious godfather, his thoughts were concentrated on the sad case of his stricken godson, and when, after he had been giving it the cream of his intellect for some ten minutes, he opened his eyes and became aware that John was standing beside him, he broached the subject without preamble.
‘Hullo, Johnny, I was just thinking about you. How did you get on with Dunstable last night? Was he chummy?’
John’s voice as he replied was sombre, as was his whole appearance. He looked like a young man who had had even less sleep than that notorious night bird the ninth Earl of Emsworth.
‘Not very,’ he said briefly.
The words and the tone in which they were uttered were damping, but Gally refused to be damped.
‘Don’t let that worry you.’
‘No?’
‘Certainly not. You couldn’t expect him to be brimming over with the milk of human kindness right away. One of the lessons life teaches us is never to look for instant bonhomie from someone we have rammed in the small of the back and bumped down two flights of stairs. That sort of thing does something to a man. I noticed when I was talking to him that the iron seemed to have entered into his soul quite a bit.’
‘I got that impression, too. Apparently he thinks I did it on purpose.’
‘Very unjust. Better men than you have slipped on those stairs, myself for one. Still, you might have been more careful. No doubt you wanted your cocktail, but you needn’t have come rushing to get it.’
‘I wasn’t rushing. Do you know, Gally, I had a feeling that somebody had pushed me.’
‘Absurd. People don’t go pushing people downstairs even at Blandings Castle.’
‘No, I suppose it was just my imagination.’
‘Must have been. But never mind that. The important thing is did you soothe him?’
‘No.’
‘You asked after his ankle?’
‘Yes.’
‘And when he had stopped talking about that?’
‘I said I believed he had known my father at one time.’
‘Oh, my God!’
‘Was that a mistake?’
‘The gravest of errors. He couldn’t stand your father. He once hit him with a cold turkey.’
‘He hit my father?’
‘No, your father hit him. It was one night when we were all having supper at Romano’s, and they had disagreed about the apostolic claims of the church of Abyssinia, which was odd because it was generally about politics that Stiffy disagreed with people. The supper had been a festive one, to celebrate the victory of a horse on whom as the result of a tip from the stable we had all had our bit, and I suppose they were both somewhat flushed with wine, for this argument started. Dunstable maintained that those claims were perfectly justified, and your father said the church of Abyssinia was talking through its hat, and things got more and more heated, and finally Dunstable took up a bowl of fruit salad and was about to strike your father with it, when your father grabbed this turkey, which was on a side table with the other cold viands, and with one blow laid him out as flat as a crêpe suzette. The unfortunate thing was that it was all over so rapidly that one had no opportunity of placing a wager on the
outcome. Otherwise, I would have cleaned up by putting my little all on Stiffy, whom I knew as a man never to be more feared than when with cold turkey in hand. I had once seen him stun a fellow named Percy Pound with the same blunt instrument. So Dunstable has not forgotten and forgiven after thirty years. At least I gather from your manner that the episode still rankles.’
‘He certainly went up in the air when I said whose son I was.’
‘It just shows what a beautiful cold turkey your father used to swing in his prime. I have always thought it a pity that there was no event of that kind in the Olympic Games. But do you know what I find the strangest aspect of the whole affair? That either of them should ever have heard of the church of Abyssinia. You wouldn’t have thought they would have recognized the church of Abyssinia if it had been served up to them on a plate with watercress round it. Yes, Beach?’
Unobserved by them, Beach had approached the hammock, panting a little, for he had been instructed to make haste and he was not the slim footman he had been eighteen years ago.
‘Her ladyship would be glad if she could have a word with Mr. Halliday, Mr. Galahad.’
Gally had removed his eyeglass and had been polishing it. He replaced it, but with the feeling that he might soon have to polish it again. Long experience had taught him to expect trouble when Connie wanted words with people.
‘Any idea what about?’
‘No, Mr. Galahad. Her ladyship did not confide in me.’
‘Well, better give her five minutes, Johnny.’
Left alone, Gally returned to his meditations. It was a lovely morning of blue skies and summer scents. Birds twittered, bees buzzed, insects droned, and from the stable yard came the soft sound of chauffeur Voules playing his harmonica. The cat which helped Lord Emsworth upset tables sauntered along and jumped on Gally’s stomach. He tickled it behind the ear with his customary courtesy, but he tickled with a heavy heart. He was musing on John, and he was uneasy. He had said that they must not be defeatist, but it was extremely difficult to avoid being so. With Connie wanting words with John, he could not regard the position of affairs as good.
As he lay there, frowning thoughtfully, he was made aware that he had another visitor. Linda was standing by the hammock. She was wearing the unmistakeable air of a ward of court who has recently learned that an injunction of restraint is about to be made against the other intending party, and he saw that she would need a good deal of cheering up if the roses were to be brought back to her cheeks. As buoyantly as he could he said:
‘Hullo, my dear. I was just chatting with this cat. Have you seen Johnny?’
‘No.’
‘He was here a moment ago. He went in to talk to my sister Connie. I don’t know how long she’ll keep him, but after they’re through he ought to look in on your foul uncle again.’
‘Has he seen Uncle Alaric?’
‘Last night. In the flesh.’
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing very good to report so far, but it was a start. The thing for him to do now is to keep popping in on the old bounder and omitting no word or act which may help to conciliate him. If he plays his cards right, I don’t see why a beautiful friendship should not result.’
‘Very unlikely.’
Gally adjusted the cat on his stomach, and frowned disapprovingly.
‘You mustn’t talk like that.’
‘Well, I do.’
‘It’s not the right spirit. You ought to be saying to yourself “Who can resist Johnny?”’
‘And the answer would be “Uncle Alaric can”.’
There was a silence, except of course for the birds, the bees, the insects and Voules the chauffeur’s harmonica. Linda broke it with a question. It was one that had been constantly in her thoughts.
‘Do you think you really do go to prison if you marry a ward of court when they’ve told you not to?’
Gally would have given much to be able to reply in the negative, instancing the cases of fellows at the Pelican who had done it dozens of times with impunity, but facts had to be faced.
‘I’m afraid so. Johnny says you do, and he ought to know.’
‘Suppose I told them he’s the only man in the world I can be happy with and I’ll just pine away to a shadow if I can’t get him. Mightn’t they skip the red tape?’
‘I doubt it. These chaps who make the laws of England are pretty hardboiled blokes. No sentiment.’
‘Johnny says he’s quite willing to take a chance.’
‘Don’t let him. Don’t dream of letting him.’
‘Of course I won’t. Do you think I’m going to have that precious lamb sewing mail bags in an underground dungeon where he’ll be gnawed to the bone by rats? It’s so unfair,’ cried Linda passionately. ‘Just because I’m female, I mean. Both my brothers married girls Uncle Alaric couldn’t stand at any price, but he couldn’t make them wards of his beastly court because they were men. He huffed and puffed, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. But just because I’m a—’
She broke off abruptly. Jno Robinson’s station taxi had drawn up at the front door, and from the front door Beach emerged bearing a suitcase. He was followed by John. He placed the suitcase in the cab, and John climbed in after it. Jno Robinson set his Arab steed in motion and with a clang and a clatter it vanished down the drive, just as Linda with another passionate cry made for the house.
There was a pensive look on Gally’s face as he removed the cat and extricated himself from the hammock. He did not need to be told what lay behind these peculiar happenings. How it had come about he could not say, but plainly his best-laid plans had gone agley, just as the poet Burns had warned him they might. He reached automatically for his eyeglass and was polishing it meditatively when Linda returned.
‘He’s gone!’ she said in a hollow voice.
‘Yes, I saw.’
‘Lady Constance has thrown him out.’
‘I gathered that.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Linda, who seemed dazed. ‘Beach says it’s because she has found out he’s not a psychoanalyst. Why should he be a psychoanalyst? Lots of people aren’t. It doesn’t make sense.’
Gally shook his head sadly. To him it made sense.
‘I think I can explain,’ he said, ‘but later, when we have more leisure. It’s a long story. How does Beach know all this?’
‘His shoe lace had come untied outside Lady Constance’s door, and he stooped to tie it.’
‘And happened to overhear what was passing within?’
‘Yes.’
Her story rang true to Gally, though he found it hard to believe that a man of Beach’s build could have stooped.
‘This,’ he said, ‘undeniably complicates things. I had been relying on Johnny making an extended stay at the castle with plenty of time to work on your ghastly uncle and gradually get him into a more reasonable frame of mind. We are now in something of a dilemma. But don’t despair. There must be a way out, there’s always a way out of everything, and I’m sure to spot it sooner or later. Hullo, here’s Beach again, and five will get you ten that he’s come to tell me her ladyship would like a word with me. Yes, Beach?’
‘Her ladyship would like a word with you, Mr. Galahad.’
‘Then what a pity,’ said Gally, ‘that she isn’t going to get it.’
‘Sir?’
‘You hunted high and low, you turned stones and explored avenues, but you couldn’t find me. You think I must have gone to Market Blandings to buy tobacco. That is your story, Beach, and be careful to tell it without any of the hesitations and stammerings which are so apt to arouse suspicion in the auditor. Above all, remember not to stand on one leg. What you will be aiming at in her ladyship is that willing suspension of disbelief dramatic critics are always talking about. Tell your tale so that it can be swallowed. In this way much unpleasantness will be avoided,’ said Gally.
He was an intrepid man and was not afraid of his sister Constance. He merely thought it wiser not to
confer with her until the hot blood had had time to cool. He had pursued the same policy in the past with Honest Jerry Judson and Tim Simms the Safe Man.
2
Beach made the telling of his tale as succinct as possible, and after Lady Constance had clicked her tongue, as she did on receipt of the news, he did not linger to offer her silent sympathy for her disappointment, but passed from the presence as quickly as was within the scope of a man of his portliness. He was anxious to get back to his pantry and resume the perusal of a letter which had come for him by the morning post.
The letter was from a Mrs. Gerald Vail, formerly Miss Penelope Donaldson, younger daughter of the Mr. Donaldson of Donaldson’s Dog Joy whose elder daughter had married Lord Emsworth’s son Freddie. During her recent visit to the castle a warm friendship had sprung up between her and Beach, and since her marriage to the health cure establishment in which her husband was a partner they had been in regular correspondence. She would give him the latest hot news from the health cure establishment, and he would reciprocate with an up-to-date account of doings at Blandings Castle.
Her letters were always fraught with interest, for the health cure establishment as seen through her eyes appeared to be peopled by eccentrics of the first water, and he chafed at any interruption which delayed the reading of them. It was consequently with annoyance that as he crossed the hall he found his progress arrested by Vanessa Polk. He liked and admired Vanessa Polk, but he wanted to get to his pantry.
‘Oh, Beach,’ said Vanessa, ‘I’m looking for Mr. Trout. You haven’t seen him, have you?’
‘No, miss.’
‘Very difficult finding people in a place this size. What Blandings Castle needs is a troupe of bloodhounds. I’d see that a few were laid on, if I were you. You never know when they won’t come in handy. Well, if you see him, tell him I’m up on the roof.’
She passed on, and he was able to continue heading for the pantry.
The letter was on the table where he had left it when rung for by Lady Constance, and he resumed his reading of it with the enjoyment Penny Vail’s letters always gave him. He had just reached the postscript, when the door opened and Gally came in. Thinking it over, Gally said, he had come to the conclusion that Beach’s pantry was the one spot in the castle where a man with whom Lady Constance would like to have a word could feel safe from having that word said to him.
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