by Paul Merton
‘There is no resemblance whatever, Jeeves, to a dog regarding a distant bone. The look to which you allude is wistful and denotes Soul.’
‘I see, sir.’
I proceeded to another subject.
‘Miss Pendlebury said she might look in this afternoon to inspect the portrait. Did she turn up?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘But has left?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You mean she’s gone, what?’
‘Precisely, sir.’
‘She didn’t say anything about coming back, I suppose?’
‘No, sir. I received the impression that it was not Miss Pendlebury’s intention to return. She was a little upset, sir, and expressed a desire to go to her studio and rest.’
‘Upset? What was she upset about?’
‘The accident, sir.’
I didn’t actually clutch the brow, but I did a bit of mental brow- clutching, as it were.
‘Don’t tell me she had an accident!’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What sort of accident?’
‘Automobile, sir.’
‘Was she hurt?’
‘No, sir. Only the gentleman.’
‘What gentleman?’
‘Miss Pendlebury had the misfortune to run over a gentleman in her car almost immediately opposite this building. He sustained a slight fracture of the leg.’
‘Too bad! But Miss Pendlebury is all right?’
‘Physically, sir, her condition appeared to be satisfactory. She was suffering a certain distress of mind.’
‘Of course, with her beautiful, sympathetic nature. Naturally. It’s a hard world for a girl, Jeeves, with fellows flinging themselves under the wheels of her car in one long, unending stream. It must have been a great shock to her. What became of the chump?’
‘The gentleman, sir?’
‘Yes.’
‘He is in your spare bedroom, sir.’
‘What!’
“Yes, sir.’
‘In my spare bedroom?’
‘Yes, sir. It was Miss Pendlebury’s desire that he should be taken there. She instructed me to telegraph to the gentleman’s sister, sir, who is in Paris, advising her of the accident. I also summoned a medical man, who gave it as his opinion that the patient should remain for the time being in statu quo.’
‘You mean, the corpse is on the premises for an indefinite visit?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Jeeves, this is a bit thick!’
‘Yes, sir.’
And I meant it, dash it. I mean to say, a girl can be pretty heftily divine and ensnare the heart and what not, but she’s no right to turn a fellow’s flat into a morgue. I’m bound to say that for a moment passion ebbed a trifle.
‘Well, I suppose I’d better go and introduce myself to the blighter. After all, I am his host. Has he a name?’
‘Mr Pim, sir.’
‘Pim!’
‘Yes, sir. And the young lady addressed him as Lucius. It was owing to the fact that he was on his way here to examine the portrait which she had painted that Mr Pim happened to be in the roadway at the moment when Miss Pendlebury turned the corner.’
I headed for the spare bedroom. I was perturbed to a degree. I don’t know if you have ever loved and been handicapped in your wooing by a wavy-haired rival, but one of the things you don’t want in such circs is the rival parking himself on the premises with a broken leg. Apart from anything else, the advantage the position gives him is obviously terrific. There he is, sitting up and toying with a grape and looking pale and interesting, the object of the girl’s pity and concern, and where do you get off, bounding about the place in morning costume and spats and with the rude flush of health on the cheek? It seemed to me that things were beginning to look pretty mouldy.
I found Lucius Pim lying in bed, draped in a suit of my pyjamas, smoking one of my cigarettes, and reading a detective story. He waved the cigarette at me in what I considered a dashed patronizing manner.
‘Ah, Wooster!’ he said.
‘Not so much of the “Ah, Wooster!”’ I replied brusquely. ‘How soon can you be moved?’
‘In a week or so, I fancy.’
‘In a week!’
‘Or so. For the moment, the doctor insists on perfect quiet and repose. So forgive me, old man, for asking you not to raise your voice. A hushed whisper is the stuff to give the troops. And now, Wooster, about this accident. We must come to an understanding.’
‘Are you sure you can’t be moved?’
‘Quite. The doctor said so.’
‘I think we ought to get a second opinion.’
‘Useless, my dear fellow. He was most emphatic, and evidently a man who knew his job. Don’t worry about my not being comfortable here. I shall be quite all right. I like this bed. And now, to return to the subject of this accident. My sister will be arriving to-morrow. She will be greatly upset. I am her favourite brother.’
‘You are?’
‘I am.’
‘How many of you are there?’
‘Six.’
‘And you’re her favourite?’
‘I am.’
It seemed to me that the other five must be pretty fairly subhuman, but I didn’t say so. We Woosters can curb the tongue.
‘She married a bird named Slingsby. Slingsby’s Superb Soups. He rolls in money. But do you think I can get him to lend a trifle from time to time to a needy brother-in-law?’ said Lucius Pim bitterly. ‘No, sir! However, that is neither here nor there. The point is that my sister loves me devotedly: and, this being the case, she might try to prosecute and persecute and generally bite pieces out of poor little Gwladys if she knew that it was she who was driving the car that laid me out. She must never know, Wooster. I appeal to you as a man of honour to keep your mouth shut.’
‘Naturally.’
‘I’m glad you grasp the point so readily, Wooster. You are not the fool people take you for.’
‘Who takes me for a fool?’
The Pim raised his eyebrows slightly.
‘Don’t people?’ he said. ‘Well, well. Anyway, that’s settled. Unless I can think of something better I shall tell my sister that I was knocked down by a car which drove on without stopping and I didn’t get its number. And now perhaps you had better leave me. The doctor made a point of quiet and repose. Moreover, I want to go on with this story. The villain has just dropped a cobra down the heroine’s chimney, and I must be at her side. It is impossible not to be thrilled by Edgar Wallace. I’ll ring if I want anything.’
I headed for the sitting-room. I found Jeeves there, staring at the portrait in rather a marked manner, as if it hurt him.
‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘Mr Pim appears to be a fixture.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘For the nonce, at any rate. And to-morrow we shall have his sister, Mrs Slingsby, of Slingsby’s Superb Soups, in our midst.’
‘Yes, sir. I telegraphed to Mrs Slingsby shortly before four. Assuming her to have been at her hotel in Paris at the moment of the telegram’s delivery, she will no doubt take a boat early to-morrow afternoon, reaching Dover—or, should she prefer the alternative route, Folkestone—in time to begin the railway journey at an hour which will enable her to arrive in London at about seven. She will possibly proceed first to her London residence—’
‘Yes, Jeeves,’ I said, ‘yes. A gripping story, full of action and human interest. You must have it set to music some time and sing it. Meanwhile, get this into your head. It is imperative that Mrs Slingsby does not learn that it was Miss Pendlebury who broke her brother in two places. I shall require you, therefore, to approach Mr Pim before she arrives, ascertain exactly what tale he intends to tell, and be prepared to back it up in every particular.’
‘Very good, sir.’
‘And now, Jeeves, what of Miss Pendlebury?’
‘Sir?’
‘She’s sure to call to make inquiries.’
Yes, sir.’
‘Wel
l, she mustn’t find me here. You know all about women, Jeeves?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then tell me this. Am I not right in supposing that if Miss Pendlebury is in a position to go into the sick-room, take a long look at the interesting invalid, and then pop out, with the memory of that look fresh in her mind, and get a square sight of me lounging about in sponge-bag trousers, she will draw damaging comparisons? You see what I mean? Look on this picture and on that—the one romantic, the other not… Eh?’
‘Very true, sir. It is a point which I had intended to bring to your attention. An invalid undoubtedly exercises a powerful appeal to the motherliness which exists in every woman’s heart, sir. Invalids seem to stir their deepest feelings. The poet Scott has put the matter neatly in the lines—“Oh, Woman in our hours of ease uncertain, coy, and hard to please… When pain and anguish rack the brow—”’
I held up a hand.
‘At some other time, Jeeves,’ I said, ‘I shall be delighted to hear you say your piece, but just now I am not in the mood. The position being as I have outlined, I propose to clear out early to-morrow morning and not to reappear until nightfall. I shall take the car and dash down to Brighton for the day.’
‘Very good, sir.’
‘It is better so, is it not, Jeeves?’
‘Indubitably, sir.’
‘I think so, too. The sea breezes will tone up my system, which sadly needs a dollop of toning. I leave you in charge of the old home.’
‘Very good, sir.’
‘Convey my regrets and sympathy to Miss Pendlebury and tell her I have been called away on business.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Should the Slingsby require refreshment, feed her in moderation.’
‘Very good, sir.’
‘And, in poisoning Mr Pim’s soup, don’t use arsenic, which is readily detected. Go to a good chemist and get something that leaves no traces.’
I sighed, and cocked an eye at the portrait.
‘All this is very wonky, Jeeves.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘When that portrait was painted, I was a happy man.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Ah, well, Jeeves!’
‘Very true, sir.’
And we left it at that.
*
It was lateish when I got back on the following evening. What with a bit of ozone-sniffing, a good dinner, and a nice run home in the moonlight with the old car going as sweet as a nut, I was feeling in pretty good shape once more. In fact, coming through Purley, I went so far as to sing a trifle. The spirit of the Woosters is a buoyant spirit, and optimism had begun to reign again in the W. bosom.
The way I looked at it was, I saw I had been mistaken in assuming that a girl must necessarily love a fellow just because he has broken a leg. At first, no doubt, Gwladys Pendlebury would feel strangely drawn to the Pim when she saw him lying there a more or less total loss. But it would not be long before other reflections crept in. She would ask herself if she were wise in trusting her life’s happiness to a man who hadn’t enough sense to leap out of the way when he saw a car coming. She would tell herself that, if this sort of thing had happened once, who knew that it might not go on happening again and again all down the long years. And she would recoil from a married life which consisted entirely of going to hospitals and taking her husband fruit. She would realize how much better off she would be, teamed up with a fellow like Bertram Wooster, who, whatever his faults, at least walked on the pavement and looked up and down a street before he crossed it.
It was in excellent spirits, accordingly, that I put the car in the garage, and it was with a merry Tra-la on my lips that I let myself into the flat as Big Ben began to strike eleven. I rang the bell and presently, as if he had divined my wishes, Jeeves came in with siphon and decanter.
‘Home again, Jeeves,’ I said, mixing a spot.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What has been happening in my absence? Did Miss Pendlebury call?’
‘Yes, sir. At about two o’clock.’
‘And left?’
‘At about six, sir.’
I didn’t like this so much. A four-hour visit struck me as a bit sinister. However, there was nothing to be done about it.
‘And Mrs Slingsby?’
‘She arrived shortly after eight and left at ten, sir.’
‘Ah? Agitated?’
‘Yes, sir. Particularly when she left. She was very desirous of seeing you, sir.’
‘Seeing me?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Wanted to thank me brokenly, I suppose, for so courteously allowing her favourite brother a place to have his game legs in. Eh?’
‘Possibly, sir. On the other hand, she alluded to you in terms suggestive of disapprobation, sir.’
‘She—what?’
“‘Feckless idiot” was one of the expressions she employed, sir.’
‘Feckless idiot?’
‘Yes, sir.’
I couldn’t make it out. I simply couldn’t see what the woman had based her judgement on. My Aunt Agatha has frequently said that sort of thing about me, but she has known me from a boy.
‘I must look into this, Jeeves. Is Mr Pim asleep?’
‘No, sir. He rang the bell a moment ago to inquire if we had not a better brand of cigarette in the flat.’
‘He did, did he?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘The accident doesn’t seem to have affected his nerve.’
‘No, sir.’
I found Lucius Pim sitting propped up among the pillows, reading his detective story.
‘Ah, Wooster,’ he said. ‘Welcome home. I say, in case you were worrying, it’s all right about that cobra. The hero had got at it without the villain’s knowledge and extracted its poison-fangs. With the result that when it fell down the chimney and started trying to bite the heroine its efforts were null and void. I doubt if a cobra has ever felt so silly.’
‘Never mind about cobras.’
‘It’s no good saying “Never mind about cobras”,’ said Lucius Pim in a gentle, rebuking sort of voice. ‘You’ve jolly well got to mind about cobras, if they haven’t had their poison-fangs extracted. Ask anyone. By the way, my sister looked in. She wants to have a word with you.’
‘And I want to have a word with her.’
‘“Two minds with but a single thought”. What she wants to talk to you about is this accident of mine. You remember that story I was to tell her? About the car driving on? Well the understanding was, if you recollect, that I was only to tell it if I couldn’t think of something better. Fortunately, I thought of something much better. It came to me in a flash as I lay in bed looking at the ceiling. You see, that driving-on story was thin. People don’t knock fellows down and break their legs and go driving on. The thing wouldn’t have held water for a minute. So I told her you did it.’
‘What!’
‘I said it was you who did it in your car. Much more likely. Makes the whole thing neat and well-rounded. I knew you would approve. At all costs we have got to keep it from her that I was outed by Gwladys. I made it as easy for you as I could, saying that you were a bit pickled at the time and so not to be blamed for what you did. Some fellows wouldn’t have thought of that. Still,’ said Lucius Pim with a sigh, ‘I’m afraid she’s not any too pleased with you.’
‘She isn’t, isn’t she?’
‘No, she is not. And I strongly recommend you, if you want anything like a pleasant interview to-morrow, to sweeten her a bit overnight.’
‘How do you mean, sweeten her?’
‘I’d suggest you sent her some flowers. It would be a graceful gesture. Roses are her favourites. Shoot her in a few roses—Number Three, Hill Street is the address—and it may make all the difference. I think it my duty to inform you, old man, that my sister Beatrice is rather a tough egg, when roused. My brother-in-law is due back from New York at any moment, and the danger, as I see it, is that Beatrice, unless sweetened, will get at
him and make him bring actions against you for torts and malfeasances and what not and get thumping damages. He isn’t over-fond of me and, left to himself, would rather approve than otherwise of people who broke my legs: but he’s crazy about Beatrice and will do anything she asks him to. So my advice is, Gather ye rose-buds, while ye may and bung them in to Number Three, Hill Street. Otherwise, the case of Slingsby v. Wooster will be on the calendar before you can say “What-ho”.’
I gave the fellow a look. Lost on him, of course.
‘It’s a pity you didn’t think of all that before,’ I said. And it wasn’t so much the actual words, if you know what I mean, as the way I said it.
‘I thought of it all right,’ said Lucius Pim. ‘But, as we were both agreed that at all costs—’
‘Oh, all right,’ I said. ‘All right, all right.’
‘You aren’t annoyed?’ said Lucius Pim, looking at me with a touch of surprise.
‘Oh, no!’
‘Splendid,’ said Lucius Pim, relieved. ‘I knew you would feel that I had done the only possible thing. It would have been awful if Beatrice had found out about Gwladys. I daresay you have noticed, Wooster, that when women find themselves in a position to take a running kick at one of their own sex they are twice as rough on her as they would be on a man. Now, you, being of the male persuasion, will find everything made nice and smooth for you. A quart of assorted roses, a few smiles, a tactful word or two, and she’ll have melted before you know where you are. Play your cards properly, and you and Beatrice will be laughing merrily and having a game of Round and Round the Mulberry Bush together in about five minutes. Better not let Slingsby’s Soups catch you at it, however. He’s very jealous where Beatrice is concerned. And now you’ll forgive me, old chap, if I send you away. The doctor says I ought not to talk too much for a day or two. Besides, it’s time for bye-bye.’
The more I thought it over, the better that idea of sending those roses looked. Lucius Pim was not a man I was fond of—in fact, if I had had to choose between him and a cockroach as a companion for a walking-tour, the cockroach would have had it by a short head—but there was no doubt that he had outlined the right policy. His advice was good, and I decided to follow it. Rising next morning at ten-fifteen, I swallowed a strengthening breakfast and legged it off to that flower-shop in Piccadilly. I couldn’t leave the thing to Jeeves. It was essentially a mission that demanded the personal touch. I laid out a couple of quid on a sizeable bouquet, sent it with my card to Hill Street, and then looked in at the Drones for a brief refresher. It is a thing I don’t often do in the morning, but this threatened to be rather a special morning.