Right Ho, Jeeves

by P. G. Wodehouse

  -21-

  I don't suppose I was looking so dashed unlike something out of an EdgarAllan Poe story myself, for, as you can readily imagine, the news itemwhich I have just recorded had got in amongst me properly. If theBassett, in the belief that the Wooster heart had long been hers and waswaiting ready to be scooped in on demand, had decided to take up heroption, I should, as a man of honour and sensibility, have no choice butto come across and kick in. The matter was obviously not one that couldbe straightened out with a curt _nolle prosequi_. All the evidence,therefore, seemed to point to the fact that the doom had come upon meand, what was more, had come to stay.

  And yet, though it would be idle to pretend that my grip on the situationwas quite the grip I would have liked it to be, I did not despair ofarriving at a solution. A lesser man, caught in this awful snare, wouldno doubt have thrown in the towel at once and ceased to struggle; but thewhole point about the Woosters is that they are not lesser men.

  By way of a start, I read the note again. Not that I had any hope that asecond perusal would enable me to place a different construction on itscontents, but it helped to fill in while the brain was limbering up. Ithen, to assist thought, had another go at the fruit salad, and inaddition ate a slice of sponge cake. And it was as I passed on to thecheese that the machinery started working. I saw what had to be done.

  To the question which had been exercising the mind--viz., can Bertramcope?--I was now able to reply with a confident "Absolutely."

  The great wheeze on these occasions of dirty work at the crossroads isnot to lose your head but to keep cool and try to find the ringleaders.Once find the ringleaders, and you know where you are.

  The ringleader here was plainly the Bassett. It was she who had startedthe whole imbroglio by chucking Gussie, and it was clear that beforeanything could be done to solve and clarify, she must be induced torevise her views and take him on again. This would put Angela back intocirculation, and that would cause Tuppy to simmer down a bit, and then wecould begin to get somewhere.

  I decided that as soon as I had had another morsel of cheese I would seekthis Bassett out and be pretty eloquent.

  And at this moment in she came. I might have foreseen that she would beturning up shortly. I mean to say, hearts may ache, but if they know thatthere is a cold collation set out in the dining-room, they are prettysure to come popping in sooner or later.

  Her eyes, as she entered the room, were fixed on the salmon mayonnaise,and she would no doubt have made a bee-line for it and started gettinghers, had I not, in the emotion of seeing her, dropped a glass of thebest with which I was endeavouring to bring about a calmer frame of mind.The noise caused her to turn, and for an instant embarrassmentsupervened. A slight flush mantled the cheek, and the eyes popped a bit.

  "Oh!" she said.

  I have always found that there is nothing that helps to ease you over oneof these awkward moments like a spot of stage business. Find something todo with your hands, and it's half the battle. I grabbed a plate andhastened forward.

  "A touch of salmon?"

  "Thank you."

  "With a suspicion of salad?"

  "If you please."

  "And to drink? Name the poison."

  "I think I would like a little orange juice."

  She gave a gulp. Not at the orange juice, I don't mean, because shehadn't got it yet, but at all the tender associations those two wordsprovoked. It was as if someone had mentioned spaghetti to the relict ofan Italian organ-grinder. Her face flushed a deeper shade, she registeredanguish, and I saw that it was no longer within the sphere of practicalpolitics to try to confine the conversation to neutral topics like coldboiled salmon.

  So did she, I imagine, for when I, as a preliminary to getting down tobrass tacks, said "Er," she said "Er," too, simultaneously, the brace of"Ers" clashing in mid-air.

  "I'm sorry."

  "I beg your pardon."

  "You were saying----"

  "You were saying----"

  "No, please go on."

  "Oh, right-ho."

  I straightened the tie, my habit when in this girl's society, and had atit:

  "With reference to yours of even date----"

  She flushed again, and took a rather strained forkful of salmon.

  "You got my note?"

  "Yes, I got your note."

  "I gave it to Jeeves to give it to you."

  "Yes, he gave it to me. That's how I got it."

  There was another silence. And as she was plainly shrinking from talkingturkey, I was reluctantly compelled to do so. I mean, somebody had gotto. Too dashed silly, a male and female in our position simply standingeating salmon and cheese at one another without a word.

  "Yes, I got it all right."

  "I see. You got it."

  "Yes, I got it. I've just been reading it. And what I was rather wantingto ask you, if we happened to run into each other, was--well, what aboutit?"

  "What about it?"

  "That's what I say: What about it?"

  "But it was quite clear."

  "Oh, quite. Perfectly clear. Very well expressed and all that. But--Imean--Well, I mean, deeply sensible of the honour, and so forth--but----Well, dash it!"

  She had polished off her salmon, and now put the plate down.

  "Fruit salad?"

  "No, thank you."

  "Spot of pie?"

  "No, thanks."

  "One of those glue things on toast?"

  "No, thank you."

  She took a cheese straw. I found a cold egg which I had overlooked. ThenI said "I mean to say" just as she said "I think I know", and there wasanother collision.

  "I beg your pardon."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Do go on."

  "No, you go on."

  I waved my cold egg courteously, to indicate that she had the floor, andshe started again:

  "I think I know what you are trying to say. You are surprised."

  "Yes."

  "You are thinking of----"

  "Exactly."

  "--Mr. Fink-Nottle."

  "The very man."

  "You find what I have done hard to understand."

  "Absolutely."

  "I don't wonder."

  "I do."

  "And yet it is quite simple."

  She took another cheese straw. She seemed to like cheese straws.

  "Quite simple, really. I want to make you happy."

  "Dashed decent of you."

  "I am going to devote the rest of my life to making you happy."

  "A very matey scheme."

  "I can at least do that. But--may I be quite frank with you, Bertie?"

  "Oh, rather."

  "Then I must tell you this. I am fond of you. I will marry you. I will domy best to make you a good wife. But my affection for you can never bethe flamelike passion I felt for Augustus."

  "Just the very point I was working round to. There, as you say, is thesnag. Why not chuck the whole idea of hitching up with me? Wash it outaltogether. I mean, if you love old Gussie----"

  "No longer."

  "Oh, come."

  "No. What happened this afternoon has killed my love. A smear of uglinesshas been drawn across a thing of beauty, and I can never feel towards himas I did."

  I saw what she meant, of course. Gussie had bunged his heart at her feet;she had picked it up, and, almost immediately after doing so, haddiscovered that he had been stewed to the eyebrows all the time. Theshock must have been severe. No girl likes to feel that a chap has got tobe thoroughly plastered before he can ask her to marry him. It wounds thepride.

  Nevertheless, I persevered.

  "But have you considered," I said, "that you may have got a wrong line onGussie's performance this afternoon? Admitted that all the evidencepoints to a more sinister theory, what price him simply having got atouch of the sun? Chaps do get touches of the sun, you know, especiallywhen the weather's hot."

  She looked at me, and I saw that she was putting in a bit of the olddrenched
-irises stuff.

  "It was like you to say that, Bertie. I respect you for it."

  "Oh, no."

  "Yes. You have a splendid, chivalrous soul."

  "Not a bit."

  "Yes, you have. You remind me of Cyrano."

  "Who?"

  "Cyrano de Bergerac."

  "The chap with the nose?"

  "Yes."

  I can't say I was any too pleased. I felt the old beak furtively. It wasa bit on the prominent side, perhaps, but, dash it, not in the Cyranoclass. It began to look as if the next thing this girl would do would beto compare me to Schnozzle Durante.

  "He loved, but pleaded another's cause."

  "Oh, I see what you mean now."

  "I like you for that, Bertie. It was fine of you--fine and big. But it isno use. There are things which kill love. I can never forget Augustus,but my love for him is dead. I will be your wife."

  Well, one has to be civil.

  "Right ho," I said. "Thanks awfully."

  Then the dialogue sort of poofed out once more, and we stood eatingcheese straws and cold eggs respectively in silence. There seemed toexist some little uncertainty as to what the next move was.

  Fortunately, before embarrassment could do much more supervening, Angelacame in, and this broke up the meeting. Then Bassett announced ourengagement, and Angela kissed her and said she hoped she would be very,very happy, and the Bassett kissed her and said she hoped she would bevery, very happy with Gussie, and Angela said she was sure she would,because Augustus was such a dear, and the Bassett kissed her again, andAngela kissed her again and, in a word, the whole thing got so ballyfeminine that I was glad to edge away.

  I would have been glad to do so, of course, in any case, for if everthere was a moment when it was up to Bertram to think, and think hard,this moment was that moment.

  It was, it seemed to me, the end. Not even on the occasion, some yearsearlier, when I had inadvertently become betrothed to Tuppy's frightfulCousin Honoria, had I experienced a deeper sense of being waist high inthe gumbo and about to sink without trace. I wandered out into thegarden, smoking a tortured gasper, with the iron well embedded in thesoul. And I had fallen into a sort of trance, trying to picture what itwould be like having the Bassett on the premises for the rest of my lifeand at the same time, if you follow me, trying not to picture what itwould be like, when I charged into something which might have been atree, but was not--being, in point of fact, Jeeves.

  "I beg your pardon, sir," he said. "I should have moved to one side."

  I did not reply. I stood looking at him in silence. For the sight of himhad opened up a new line of thought.

  This Jeeves, now, I reflected. I had formed the opinion that he had losthis grip and was no longer the force he had been, but was it notpossible, I asked myself, that I might be mistaken? Start him offexploring avenues and might he not discover one through which I would beenabled to sneak off to safety, leaving no hard feelings behind? I foundmyself answering that it was quite on the cards that he might.

  After all, his head still bulged out at the back as of old. One noted inthe eyes the same intelligent glitter.

  Mind you, after what had passed between us in the matter of that whitemess-jacket with the brass buttons, I was not prepared absolutely to handover to the man. I would, of course, merely take him into consultation.But, recalling some of his earlier triumphs--the Sipperley Case, theEpisode of My Aunt Agatha and the Dog McIntosh, and the smoothly handledAffair of Uncle George and The Barmaid's Niece were a few that sprang tomy mind--I felt justified at least in offering him the opportunity ofcoming to the aid of the young master in his hour of peril.

  But before proceeding further, there was one thing that had got to beunderstood between us, and understood clearly.

  "Jeeves," I said, "a word with you."

  "Sir?"

  "I am up against it a bit, Jeeves."

  "I am sorry to hear that, sir. Can I be of any assistance?"

  "Quite possibly you can, if you have not lost your grip. Tell me frankly,Jeeves, are you in pretty good shape mentally?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Still eating plenty of fish?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then it may be all right. But there is just one point before I begin. Inthe past, when you have contrived to extricate self or some pal from somelittle difficulty, you have frequently shown a disposition to takeadvantage of my gratitude to gain some private end. Those purple socks,for instance. Also the plus fours and the Old Etonian spats. Choosingyour moment with subtle cunning, you came to me when I was weakened byrelief and got me to get rid of them. And what I am saying now is that ifyou are successful on the present occasion there must be no rot of thatdescription about that mess-jacket of mine."

  "Very good, sir."

  "You will not come to me when all is over and ask me to jettison thejacket?"

  "Certainly not, sir."

  "On that understanding then, I will carry on. Jeeves, I'm engaged."

  "I hope you will be very happy, sir."

  "Don't be an ass. I'm engaged to Miss Bassett."

  "Indeed, sir? I was not aware----"

  "Nor was I. It came as a complete surprise. However, there it is. Theofficial intimation was in that note you brought me."

  "Odd, sir."

  "What is?"

  "Odd, sir, that the contents of that note should have been as youdescribe. It seemed to me that Miss Bassett, when she handed me thecommunication, was far from being in a happy frame of mind."

  "She is far from being in a happy frame of mind. You don't suppose shereally wants to marry me, do you? Pshaw, Jeeves! Can't you see that thisis simply another of those bally gestures which are rapidly renderingBrinkley Court a hell for man and beast? Dash all gestures, is my view."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Well, what's to be done?"

  "You feel that Miss Bassett, despite what has occurred, still retains afondness for Mr. Fink-Nottle, sir?"

  "She's pining for him."

  "In that case, sir, surely the best plan would be to bring about areconciliation between them."

  "How? You see. You stand silent and twiddle the fingers. You arestumped."

  "No, sir. If I twiddled my fingers, it was merely to assist thought."

  "Then continue twiddling."

  "It will not be necessary, sir."

  "You don't mean you've got a bite already?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "You astound me, Jeeves. Let's have it."

  "The device which I have in mind is one that I have already mentioned toyou, sir."

  "When did you ever mention any device to me?"

  "If you will throw your mind back to the evening of our arrival, sir. Youwere good enough to inquire of me if I had any plan to put forward with aview to bringing Miss Angela and Mr. Glossop together, and I ventured tosuggest----"

  "Good Lord! Not the old fire-alarm thing?"

  "Precisely, sir."

  "You're still sticking to that?"

  "Yes, sir."

  It shows how much the ghastly blow I had received had shaken me when Isay that, instead of dismissing the proposal with a curt "Tchah!" oranything like that, I found myself speculating as to whether there mightnot be something in it, after all.

  When he had first mooted this fire-alarm scheme of his, I had sat uponit, if you remember, with the maximum of promptitude and vigour. "Rotten"was the adjective I had employed to describe it, and you may recall thatI mused a bit sadly, considering the idea conclusive proof of the generalbreakdown of a once fine mind. But now it somehow began to look as if itmight have possibilities. The fact of the matter was that I had aboutreached the stage where I was prepared to try anything once, howevergoofy.

  "Just run through that wheeze again, Jeeves," I said thoughtfully. "Iremember thinking it cuckoo, but it may be that I missed some of thefiner shades."

  "Your criticism of it at the time, sir, was that it was too elaborate,but I do not think it is so in reality. As I see it, sir, the occ
upantsof the house, hearing the fire bell ring, will suppose that aconflagration has broken out."

  I nodded. One could follow the train of thought.

  "Yes, that seems reasonable."

  "Whereupon Mr. Glossop will hasten to save Miss Angela, while Mr.Fink-Nottle performs the same office for Miss Bassett."

  "Is that based on psychology?"

  "Yes, sir. Possibly you may recollect that it was an axiom of the lateSir Arthur Conan Doyle's fictional detective, Sherlock Holmes, that theinstinct of everyone, upon an alarm of fire, is to save the objectdearest to them."

  "It seems to me that there is a grave danger of seeing Tuppy come outcarrying a steak-and-kidney pie, but resume, Jeeves, resume. You thinkthat this would clean everything up?"

  "The relations of the two young couples could scarcely continue distantafter such an occurrence, sir."

  "Perhaps you're right. But, dash it, if we go ringing fire bells in thenight watches, shan't we scare half the domestic staff into fits? Thereis one of the housemaids--Jane, I believe--who already skips like thehigh hills if I so much as come on her unexpectedly round a corner."

  "A neurotic girl, sir, I agree. I have noticed her. But by actingpromptly we should avoid such a contingency. The entire staff, with theexception of Monsieur Anatole, will be at the ball at Kingham Manortonight."

  "Of course. That just shows the condition this thing has reduced me to.Forget my own name next. Well, then, let's just try to envisage. Bonggoes the bell. Gussie rushes and grabs the Bassett.... Wait. Whyshouldn't she simply walk downstairs?"

  "You are overlooking the effect of sudden alarm on the femininetemperament, sir."

  "That's true."

  "Miss Bassett's impulse, I would imagine, sir, would be to leap from herwindow."

  "Well, that's worse. We don't want her spread out in a sort of _puree_ onthe lawn. It seems to me that the flaw in this scheme of yours, Jeeves,is that it's going to litter the garden with mangled corpses."

  "No, sir. You will recall that Mr. Travers's fear of burglars has causedhim to have stout bars fixed to all the windows."

  "Of course, yes. Well, it sounds all right," I said, though still a bitdoubtfully. "Quite possibly it may come off. But I have a feeling that itwill slip up somewhere. However, I am in no position to cavil at even a100 to 1 shot. I will adopt this policy of yours, Jeeves, though, as Isay, with misgivings. At what hour would you suggest bonging the bell?"

  "Not before midnight, sir."

  "That is to say, some time after midnight."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Right-ho, then. At 12.30 on the dot, I will bong."

  "Very good, sir."