by Unknown
CHAPTER 23
She came leaping towards me, like Lady Macbeth coming to get first-hand news from the guest-room.
‘Well?’ she said, getting her hooks on my arm with girlish animation. ‘I’m nearly expiring with excitement and suspense, Bertie. Did everything go off all right? I listened at the door for a bit, but it was so difficult to hear what was going on. All that came through was Uncle Percy’s voice rumbling like thunder, and occasionally a bleat from you.’
I would have denied, and with some warmth, this charge that I had bleated, but she gave me no opportunity to speak.
‘And what puzzled me was that, according to the programme, it should have been your voice rumbling like thunder and an occasional bleat from Uncle Percy. And I couldn’t hear Boko at all. He might just as well not have been there.’
I winced. It seemed to be my constant task to have to dash the cup of joy from this young geezer’s lips, and I didn’t like it any more than I had the first time. However, I forced myself to give her the works.
‘Boko wasn’t there.’
‘Not there?’
‘No.’
‘But the whole point—’
‘I know. But he was unavoidably detained by a gardener with a pitchfork and a dog which seemed to me to have a dash of the wolf-hound in him.’
And in a few sympathetic words I related how the light of her life had become less than the dust beneath Uncle Percy’s gent’s Oxfords and had been slung off the premises with all his music still within him.
A hard, set look came into her face.
‘So Boko’s made an ass of himself again?’
‘I wouldn’t call it actually making an ass of himself this time. More accurate, don’t you think, to chalk him up as the helpless prey of destiny?’
‘He could have rolled out of the way.’
‘Not very easily. Uncle Percy’s foot covers a wide area.’
She seemed to see the justice of this. Her map softened, and she asked if the poor darling had been hurt.
I weighed this.
‘His physical injuries, I imagine, were slight. He seemed to be navigating under his own steam. Spiritually, he did not appear to be doing so well.’
‘Poor lamb! He’s so sensitive. What would you say his standing was now with Uncle Percy?’
‘Lowish.’
‘This has put the lid on things, you think?’
‘To some extent, yes. But,’ I said, glad to be able to drop a word of comfort, ‘there is just a chance that, wind and weather permitting, the sun will ere long peep through the clouds. All depends on how the Wooster brain responds to the spurring it is going to get in the next half-hour or so.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Rummy things have been happening, Nobby. You will recall how I tried the Fittleworth patent process for getting out of being engaged to Florence.’
‘By kicking Edwin?’
‘By, as you say, kicking Edwin. It has produced a bountiful harvest.’
‘But you told me it hadn’t worked.’
‘Not in the way I had anticipated. But there has been an amazing by-product. Uncle Percy, informed of my activities, is all over me. For years, apparently, he has wanted to kick the young gumboil himself, but Florence has always stayed his foot.’
‘I never knew that.’
‘No doubt he has worn the mask. But the yearning was there, and it reached fever-point last night, when Edwin, sneaking up behind him, let him have it in the pants with his Scout’s stick. So you can understand how he felt on learning that I had rushed in where he had feared to tread. It revolutionized his whole outlook. He shook my hand, gave me a cigar, pressed drink on me, and I am now his trusted friend and adviser. He thinks the world of me.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘You spoke?’
‘I was only going to say that that’s splendid and wonderful and marvellous, and I hope you will be very, very happy, but what I want is for him to think the world of Boko.’
‘I am coming to that. Does the old relative ever speak to you of his affairs?’
‘Only to tell me not to come bothering him now, because he’s busy.’
‘Then you wouldn’t have heard of an American tycoon named J. Chichester Clam, with whom he has got to have a secret meeting in order to complete an important deal. Mysterious commercial stuff. He has asked me to think out some way of arranging this meeting. If I do, you will be on velvet.’
‘How do you make that out?’
‘Well, dash it, already I am practically Uncle Percy’s ewe lamb. That will make me still ewer. He will be able to deny me nothing. I shall be in a position to melt his heart—’
‘Oh, golly, yes. I see now.’
‘– and get you and Boko fixed up. Then you show Florence that letter of mine, and that will get me fixed up.’
‘But, Bertie, this is stupendous.’
‘Yes, the prospects are of the rosiest, provided—’
‘Provided what?’
‘Well, provided I can think of a way of arranging this secret meeting, which at the moment of going to press I’m absolutely dashed if I can.’
‘There are millions of ways.’
‘Name three.’
‘Why, you could . . . No, I see what you mean . . . It is difficult. I know. Ask Jeeves.’
‘We have asked Jeeves. He says he’s baffled.’
‘Baffled? Jeeves?’
‘I know. It came as a great shock to me. Chap was full of fish, too.’
‘Then what are you going to do?’
‘I told Uncle Percy I would brood.’
‘Perhaps Boko would have something to suggest.’
Here, I was obliged to be firm.
‘I bet he would,’ I said, ‘and I bet it would be something which would land us so deeply in the soup that it would require a dredging outfit to get us out again. I love Boko like a brother, but what I always feel about the dear old bird is that it’s wisest not to stir him.’
She agreed with this, admitting that if there was a way of making things worse than they were Boko would unquestionably find it.
‘I’m going to see him,’ she said suddenly, after taking time out for a few moments in order to knit the brow.
‘Boko?’
‘Jeeves. I don’t believe all this stuff about him being baffled.’
‘He said he was.’
‘I don’t care. I don’t believe it. Have you ever known Jeeves to be baffled?’
‘Very seldom.’
‘Well, then,’ she said, and legged it for the staff quarters, leaving me to pass from the hall – I rather think with bowed head – and move out into the open. Here for a space I pondered.
How long I pondered, I cannot say. When the bean is tensely occupied, it is difficult to keep tab on the passage of time. I am unable to state, therefore, whether it was ten minutes later or more like twenty when I emerged from a profound reverie to discover that Jeeves was in my midst. I had had no inkling of his approach, but then one very often hasn’t. He has a way of suddenly materializing at one’s side like one of those Indian blokes who shoot their astral bodies to and fro, going into thin air in Rangoon and reassembling the parts in Calcutta. I think it’s done with mirrors.
Nobby was also there, looking pretty dashed pleased with herself.
‘I told you so,’ she said.
‘Eh?’
‘About Jeeves being baffled. I knew there must be some mistake. He isn’t baffled at all.’
I stared at the man, astonished. True, he was looking in rare intellectual form, what with his head sticking out at the back and all the acumen gleaming from his eyes, but he had stated so definitely to Uncle Percy and self that he had been laid a stymie.
‘Not baffled?’
‘No. He was only fooling. He’s got a terrific idea.’
‘How much does he know of recent developments?’
‘I’ve just been bringing him up to date.’
‘You have been ap
prised of the failure of the Fittleworth system, Jeeves?’
‘Yes, sir. And also of your rapprochement with his lordship.’
‘My what with his lordship?’
‘Rapprochement, sir. A French expression. I confess that I experienced no little surprise on finding you on such excellent terms, but Miss Hopwood’s explanation has rendered everything perfectly clear.’
And you really have a scheme for bringing Uncle Percy and Clam together?’
‘Yes, sir. I must confess that in our recent interview I intentionally misled his lordship. Realizing how vital it was to the interests of Mr Fittleworth and Miss Hopwood that you should be in a position to use your influence on their behalf, I thought it better that the suggestion should appear to emanate from you.’
‘So that you can become more than ever the ewe lamb,’ explained Nobby.
I nodded. His meaning had not escaped me. If you analysed it, it was the old Bacon and Shakespeare gag. Bacon, as you no doubt remember, wrote Shakespeare’s stuff for him and then, possibly because he owed the latter money or it may be from sheer good nature, allowed him to take the credit for it. I mentioned this to Jeeves, and he said that perhaps an even closer parallel was that of Cyrano de Bergerac.
‘The nature of the scheme which I have evolved, I should begin by saying, sir, renders the laying of it before his lordship a matter of some little delicacy, and it maybe that a certain finesse will be required to induce him to fall in with it.’
‘One of those schemes, is it?’
‘Yes, sir. So, if I might make the suggestion, I think it would be best if you were to leave the matter in my hands.’
‘You mean, let you sell it to him?’
‘Precisely, sir. I would, of course, stress the fact that you were its originator and myself merely the go-between or emissary.’
‘Just as you feel, Jeeves. You know best. And what is this scheme?’
‘Briefly this, sir. I see no reason why his lordship and Mr Clam should not meet in perfect secrecy and safety at the fancy dress dance which is to take place to-night at the East Wibley Town Hall.’
I was absolutely staggered. I had clean forgotten that those East Wibley doings were scheduled for to-night. Which, when you reflect how keenly I had been looking forward to them, will give you some idea of the extent to which the fierce rush of life at Steeple Bumpleigh had disorganized my faculties.
‘Isn’t that a ball of fire?’ said Nobby, enthusiastically.
I could not wholly subscribe to this.
‘I spot a fatal flaw.’
‘What do you mean, a flaw?’
‘Well, try this on your pianola. Where, at such short notice, can Uncle Percy procure a costume? He can’t go without one. Fancy dress, I take it, is obligatory. In other words, we come up against the snag the Wedding Guest ran into.’
‘Which Wedding Guest? The one who beat his breast?’
‘No, the chap in the parable, who was invited to a wedding but, having omitted to dress the part, got slung out on his ear like—’
I had been about to say ‘like Boko from the precincts of Bumpleigh Hall’, but refrained, fearing lest it might wound. But even without the addition my remorselessly logical words struck home.
‘Oh, golly! I had forgotten about the upholstery. How do you get round that, Jeeves?’
‘Quite simply, miss. I fear it will be necessary for you to lend his lordship your Sindbad the Sailor costume, sir.’
I uttered a stricken cry, like a cat to whom the suggestion has been made that she part with her new-born kitten.
‘My God, Jeeves!’
‘I fear so, sir.’
‘But, dash it, that means I won’t be able to attend the function.’
‘I fear not, sir.’
‘Well, why do you want to attend the rotten function?’ demanded Nobby.
I gnawed the lower lip.
‘You feel that this is absolutely essential, Jeeves? Think well.’
‘Quite essential, sir. It may be a little difficult to persuade his lordship to take part in a frivolous affair of this nature, owing to his fear of what her ladyship would say, should she learn of it, and I am relying on the ginger whiskers which go with the costume to turn the scale. In placing the proposition before his lordship, I shall lay great stress on the completeness of the disguise which these will afford, preventing recognition by any acquaintance whom he may chance to encounter in the course of the festivities.’
I nodded. He was right. I decided to make the great sacrifice. The Woosters are seldom deaf to the voice of Reason, even if it involves draining the bitter cup.
‘True, Jeeves. The keenest eye could not pierce those whiskers.’
‘No, sir.’
‘So be it, then. I will donate the costume.’
‘Thank you, sir. Then I will be seeing his lordship immediately.’
‘Heaven speed your efforts, Jeeves.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Same here, Jeeves.’
‘Thank you, miss.’
He shimmered off, and I turned to Nobby, with a sigh, saying that this was a blow and I would not attempt to conceal it. And once more she asked me why I was so keen on attending what she described as a footling country dance.
‘Well, for one thing, I had set my heart on knocking East Wibley’s eye out with that Sindbad. You’ve never seen me as Sindbad the Sailor, have you, Nobby?’
‘No.’
‘You haven’t lived. But,’ I proceeded, ‘there is another angle, and I wish it had floated into my mind before Jeeves popped off, because I should like his views on it. If Uncle Percy meets Chichester Clam at this orgy and all goes well, he will, of course, be in malleable mood. But the point is, do these malleable moods last? By the following morning, may he not have simmered down? In order to strike while the iron is hot, both I and Boko ought to be there – I to seize the psychological moment for approaching Uncle Percy on your behalf and Boko to carry on from where I leave off.’
She saw what I meant.
‘Yes, that wants thinking out.’
‘If you don’t mind, I’ll pace up and down a bit.’
I did so, and was still hard at it, when Nobby’s voice hailed me, and I saw that Jeeves had returned from his mission. Joining them at my best speed, I found him looking modestly triumphant.
‘His lordship has consented, sir.’
‘Good. But—’
‘I am to proceed to London without delay, in order to see Mr Clam and secure his co-operation.’
‘Quite. But—’
‘Meanwhile, Miss Hopwood has drawn my attention to the point which you have raised, sir, and I am in cordial agreement with your view that both yourself and Mr Fittleworth should be present at the dance. What I would suggest, sir, is that Mr Fittleworth drives me to the metropolis in his car, starting as soon as possible in order that we may return in good time. While I am interviewing Mr Clam, Mr Fittleworth can be purchasing the necessary costumes. I think this meets your difficulty, sir?’
I brooded for a moment. The scheme did, as he had said, meet my difficulty. The only thing that was bothering me was whether an essentially delicate matter like the selection of fancy dress costumes could be left safely in the hands of a bird like Boko. He was the sort of chap who might quite easily come back with a couple of Pierrots.
‘Wouldn’t it be better if I drove you to London?’
‘No, sir. I think that you should remain, in order to keep his lordship’s courage screwed to the sticking-place. His acceptance of the scheme was not obtained without considerable trouble. He would agree, and then he would glance at the portrait of her ladyship which hangs above the study door and demur once more. Left to himself, without constant exhortation and encouragement, I fear he might yet change his mind.’
I saw what he meant.
‘Something in that, Jeeves. A bit jumpy, is he?’
‘Extremely so, sir.’
I could not blame the old bird. I have already descr
ibed my own emotions on catching the eye of that portrait of Aunt Agatha.
‘Right ho, Jeeves.’
‘Very good, sir. I would recommend constant allusions to the efficacy of the whiskers. As I had anticipated, it was they that turned the scale. Would Mr Fittleworth be at his residence now, miss? Then I will proceed thither at once.’
CHAPTER 24
Jeeves’s prediction that Uncle Percy would require constant exhortation and encouragement, to prevent him issuing an eleventh hour nolle prosequi and ducking out of the assignment he had undertaken, was abundantly fulfilled, and I must say I found the task of holding his hand and shooting pep into him a bit wearing. As the long day wore on, I began to understand why prize-fighters’ managers, burdened with the job of bringing their men to the scratch, are always fairly careworn birds, with lined faces and dark circles under the eyes.
I could not but feel that it was ironical that the old relative should have spoken disparagingly of fawns as a class, sneering at their timidity in that rather lofty and superior manner, for he himself could have walked straight into a gathering of these animals, and no questions asked. There were moments, as he sat gazing at that portrait of Aunt Agatha over the study door, when he would have made even an unusually jumpy fawn look like Dangerous Dan McGrew.
Take it for all in all, therefore, it was a relief when, towards the quiet evenfall, the telephone rang and the following dialogue took place.
Uncle Percy: What? What? What-what-what? What? What? . . . Oh, hullo, Clam.
Clam (off stage): Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack (about a minute and a half of this, in all).
Uncle Percy: Fine, good. Splendid. I’ll look out for you, then.
‘Clam,’ he said, replacing the receiver. ‘Says he’s heart and soul in favour of the scheme, and is coming to the ball as Edward the Confessor.’
I nodded understandingly. I thought Clam’s choice was good.
‘A bearded bozo, was he not, this Edward?’ I asked.
‘To the eyebrows,’ said Uncle Percy. ‘Those were the days when the world was a solid mass of beavers. I shall keep my eye open for something that looks like a burst horsehair sofa, and that will be Clam.’