As a matter of fact, he seemed to me to be looking slightly more sinister than ever, and I found his aspect so forbidding that I dug up an ingratiating simper myself. I didn’t suppose it would do much towards conciliating the blighter, but every little helps.
‘Oh, hallo, Spode,’ I said affably. ‘Come on in. Is there something I can do for you?’
Without replying, he walked to the cupboard, threw it open with a brusque twiddle and glared into it. This done, he turned and eyed me, still in that unchummy manner.
‘I thought Fink-Nottle might be here.’
‘He isn’t.’
‘So I See.’
‘Did you expect to find him in the cupboard?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh?’
There was a pause.
‘Any message I can give him if he turns up?’
‘Yes. You can tell him that I am going to break his neck.’
‘Break his neck?’
‘Yes. Are you deaf? Break his neck.’
I nodded pacifically.
‘I see. Break his neck. Right. And if he asks why?’
‘He knows why. Because he is a butterfly who toys with women’s hearts and throws them away like soiled gloves.’
‘Right ho.’ I hadn’t had a notion that that was what butterflies did. Most interesting. ‘Well, I’ll let him know if I run across him.’
‘Thank you.’
He withdrew, slamming the door, and I sat musing on the odd way in which history repeats itself. I mean to say, the situation was almost identical with the one which had arisen some few months earlier at Brinkley, when young Tuppy Glossop had come to my room with a similar end in view. True, Tuppy, if I remembered rightly, had wanted to pull Gussie inside out and make him swallow himself, while Spode had spoken of breaking his neck, but the principle was the same.
I saw what had happened, of course. It was a development which I had rather been anticipating. I had not forgotten what Gussie had told me earlier in the day about Spode informing him of his intention of leaving no stone unturned to dislocate his cervical vertebrae should he ever do Madeline Bassett wrong. He had doubtless learned the facts from her over the coffee, and was now setting out to put his policy into operation.
As to what these facts were, I still had not the remotest. But it was evident from Spode’s manner that they reflected little credit on Gussie. He must, I realize, have been making an ass of himself in a big way.
A fearful situation, beyond a doubt, and if there had been anything I could have done about it, I would have done same without hesitation. But it seemed to me that I was helpless, and that Nature must take its course. With a slight sigh, I resumed my gooseflesher, and was making fair progress with it, when a hollow voice said: ‘I say, Bertie!’ and I sat up quivering in every limb. It was as if a family spectre had edged up and breathed down the back of my neck.
Turning, I observed Augustus Fink-Nottle appearing from under the bed.
Owing to the fact that the shock had caused my tongue to get tangled up with my tonsils, inducing an unpleasant choking sensation, I found myself momentarily incapable of speech. All I was able to do was goggle at Gussie, and it was immediately evident to me, as I did so, that he had been following the recent conversation closely. His whole demeanour was that of a man vividly conscious of being jut about half a jump ahead of Roderick Spode. The hair was ruffled, the eyes wild, the nose twitching. A rabbit pursued by a weasel would have looked just the same – allowing, of course, for the fact that it would not have been wearing tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles.
‘That was a close call, Bertie,’ he said, in a low, quivering voice. He crossed the room, giving a little at the knees. His face was a rather pretty greenish colour. ‘I think I’ll lock the door, if you don’t mind. He might come back. Why he didn’t look under the bed, I can’t imagine. I always thought these Dictators were so thorough.’
I managed to get the tongue unhitched.
‘Never mind about beds and Dictators. What’s all this about you and Madeline Bassett?’
He winced.
‘Do you mind not talking about that?’
‘Yes, I do mind not talking about it. It’s the only thing I want to talk about. What on earth has she broken off the engagement for? What did you do to her?’
He winced again. I could see that I was probing an exposed nerve.
‘It wasn’t so much what I did to her – it was what I did to Stephanie Byng.’
‘To Stiffy?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you do to Stiffy?’
He betrayed some embarrassment.
‘I – er … Well, as a matter of fact, I … Mind you, I can see now that it was a mistake, but it seemed a good idea at the time … You see, the fact is …’
‘Get on with it.’
He pulled himself together with a visible effort.
‘Well, I wonder if you remember, Bertie, what we were saying up here before dinner … about the possibility of her carrying that notebook on her person … I put forward the theory, if you recall, that it might be in her stocking … and I suggested if you recollect, that one might ascertain …’
I reeled. I had got the gist. ‘You didn’t –’
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
Again that look of pain passed over his face.
‘Just before dinner. You remember we heard her singing folk songs in the drawing-room. I went down there, and there she was at the piano, all alone … At least, I thought she was alone … And it suddenly struck me that this would be an excellent opportunity to … What I didn’t know, you see, was that Madeline, though invisible for the moment, was also present. She had gone behind the screen in the corner to get a further supply of folk songs from the chest in which they are kept … and … well, the long and short of it is that, just as I was … well, to cut a long story short, just as I was … How shall I put it? … Just as I was, so to speak, getting on with it, out she came … and … Well, you see what I mean … I mean, coming so soon after that taking-the-fly-out-of-the-girl’s-eye-in-the-stable-yard business, it was not easy to pass it off. As a matter of fact, I didn’t pass it off. That’s the whole story. How are you on knotting sheets, Bertie?’
I could not follow what is known as the transition of thought.
‘Knotting sheets?’
‘I was thinking it over under the bed, while you and Spode were chatting, and I came to the conclusion that the only thing to be done is for us to take the sheets off your bed and tie knots in them, and then you can lower me down from the window. They do it in books, and I have an idea I’ve seen it in the movies. Once outside, I can take your car and drive up to London. After that, my plans are uncertain. I may go to California.’
‘California?’
‘It’s seven thousand miles away. Spode would hardly come to California.’
I stared at him aghast.
‘You aren’t going to do a bolt?’
‘Of course I’m going to do a bolt. Immediately. You heard what Spode said?’
‘You aren’t afraid of Spode?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘But you were saying yourself that he’s a mere mass of beef and brawn, obviously slow on his feet.’
‘I know. I remember. But that was when I thought he was after you. One’s views change.’
‘But, Gussie, pull yourself together. You can’t just run away.’
‘What else can I do?’
‘Why, stick around and try to effect a reconciliation. You haven’t had a shot at pleading with the girl yet.’
‘Yes, I have. I did it at dinner. During the fish course. No good. She just gave me a cold look, and made bread pills.’
I racked the bean. I was sure there must be an avenue somewhere, waiting to be explored, and in about half a minute I spotted it.
‘What you’ve got to do,’ I said, ‘is to get the notebook. If you secured that book and showed it to Madeline, its contents would convince her tha
t your motives in acting as you did towards Stiffy were not what she supposed, but pure to the last drop. She would realize that your behaviour was the outcome of … it’s on the tip of my tongue … of a counsel of desperation. She would understand and forgive.’
For a moment, a faint flicker of hope seemed to illumine his twisted features.
‘It’s a thought,’ he agreed. ‘I believe you’ve got something there, Bertie. That’s not a bad idea.’
‘It can’t fail. Tout comprendre, c’est tout pardonner about sums it up.’
The flicker faded.
‘But how can I get the book? Where is it?’
‘It wasn’t on her person?’
‘I don’t think so. Though my investigations were, in the circumstances, necessarily cursory.’
‘Then it’s probably in her room.’
‘Well, there you are. I can’t go searching a girl’s room.’
‘Why not? You see that book I was reading when you popped up. By an odd coincidence – I call it a coincidence, but probably these things are sent to us for a purpose – I had just come to a bit where a gang had been doing that very thing. Do it now, Gussie. She’s probably fixed in the drawing-room for the next hour or so.’
‘As a matter of fact, she’s gone to the village. The curate is giving an address on the Holy Land with coloured slides to the Village Mothers at the Working Men’s Labour Institute, and she is playing the piano accompaniment. But even so … No, Bertie, I can’t do it. It may be the right thing to do … in fact, I can’t do it. It might be the right to do … but I haven’t the nerve. Suppose Spode came in and caught me.’
‘Spode would hardly wander into a young girl’s room.’
‘I don’t know so much. You can’t form plans on any light-hearted assumption like that. I see him as a chap who wanders everywhere. No. My heart is broken, my future a blank, and there is nothing to be done but accept the fact and start knotting sheets. Let’s get at it.’
‘You don’t knot any of my sheets.’
‘But, dash it, my life is at stake.’
‘I don’t care. I decline to be a party to this craven scooting.’
‘Is this Bertie Wooster speaking?’
‘You said that before.’
‘And I say it again. For the last time, Bertie, will you lend me a couple of sheets and help knot them?’
‘No.’
‘Then I shall just have to go off and hide somewhere till dawn, when the milk train leaves. Goodbye, Bertie. You have disappointed me.’
‘You have disappointed me. I thought you had guts.’
‘I have, and I don’t want Roderick Spode fooling about with them.’
He gave me another of those dying-newt looks, and opened the door cautiously. A glance up and down the passage having apparently satisfied him that it was, for the moment, Spodeless, he slipped out and was gone. And I returned to my book. It was the only thing I could think of that would keep me from sitting torturing myself with agonizing broodings.
Presently I was aware that Jeeves was with me. I hadn’t heard him come in, but you often don’t with Jeeves. He just streams silently from spot A to spot B, like some gas.
7
* * *
I WOULDN’T SAY that Jeeves was actually smirking, but there was a definite look of quiet satisfaction on his face, and I suddenly remembered what this sickening scene with Gussie had caused me to forget – viz that the last time I had seen him he had been on his way to the telephone to ring up the Secretary of the Junior Ganymede Club. I sprang to my feet eagerly. Unless I had misread that look, he had something to report.
‘Did you connect with the Sec., Jeeves?’
‘Yes, sir. I have just finished speaking to him.’
‘And did he dish the dirt?’
‘He was most informative, sir.’
‘Has Spode a secret?’
‘Yes, sir.’
I smote the trouser leg emotionally.
‘I should have known better than to doubt Aunt Dahlia. Aunts always know. It’s a sort of intuition. Tell me all.’
‘I fear I cannot do that, sir. The rules of the club regarding the dissemination of material recorded in the book are very rigid.’
‘You mean your lips are sealed?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then what was the use of telephoning?’
‘It is only the details of the matter which I am precluded from mentioning, sir. I am at perfect liberty to tell you that it would greatly lessen Mr Spode’s potentiality for evil, if you were to inform him that you know all about Eulalie, sir.’
‘Eulalie?’
‘Eulalie, sir.’
‘That would really put the stopper on him?’
‘Yes, sir.’
I pondered. It didn’t sound much to go on.
‘You’re sure you can’t go a bit deeper into the subject?’
‘Quite sure, sir. Were I to do so, it is probable that my resignation would be called for.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t want that to happen, of course.’ I hated to think of a squad of butlers forming a hollow square while the Committee snipped his buttons off. ‘Still, you really are sure that if I look Spode in the eye and spring this gag, he will be baffled? Let’s get this quite clear. Suppose you’re Spode, and I walk up to you and say “Spode, I know all about Eulalie,” that would make you wilt?’
‘Yes, sir. The subject of Eulalie, sir, is one which the gentleman, occupying the position he does in the public eye, would, I am convinced, be most reluctant to have ventilated.’
I practised it for a bit. I walked up to the chest of drawers with my hands in my pockets, and said, ‘Spode, I know all about Eulalie.’ I tried it again, waggling my finger this time. I then had a go with folded arms, and I must say it still didn’t sound too convincing.
However, I told myself that Jeeves always knew.
‘Well, if you say so, Jeeves. Then the first thing I had better do is find Gussie and give him this life-saving information.’
‘Sir?’
‘Oh, of course, you don’t know anything about that, do you? I must tell you, Jeeves, that, since we last met, the plot has thickened again. Were you aware that Spode has long loved Miss Bassett?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Well, such is the case. The happiness of Miss Bassett is very dear to Spode, and now that her engagement has gone phut for reasons highly discreditable to the male contracting party, he wants to break Gussie’s neck.’
‘Indeed, sir?’
‘I assure you. He was in here just now, speaking of it, and Gussie, who happened to be under the bed at the time, heard him. With the result that he now talks of getting out of the window and going to California. Which, of course, would be fatal. It is imperative that he stays on and tries to effect a reconciliation.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘He can’t effect a reconciliation, if he is in California.’
‘No, sir.’
‘So I must go and try to find him. Though, mark you, I doubt if he will be easily found at this point in his career. He is probably on the roof, wondering how he can pull it up after him.’
My misgivings were proved abundantly justified. I searched the house assiduously, but there were no signs of him. Somewhere, no doubt, Totleigh Towers hid Augustus Fink-Nottle, but it kept its secret well. Eventually, I gave it up, and returned to my room, and stap my vitals if the first thing I beheld on entering wasn’t the man in person. He was standing by the bed, knotting sheets.
The fact that he had his back to the door and that the carpet was soft kept him from being aware of my entry till I spoke. My ‘Hey!’ – a pretty sharp one, for I was aghast at seeing my bed thus messed about – brought him spinning round, ashen to the lips.
‘Woof!’ he exclaimed. ‘I thought you were Spode!’
Indignation succeeded panic. He gave me a hard stare. The eyes behind the spectacles were cold. He looked like an annoyed turbot.
‘What do you mean, you blasted Wo
oster,’ he demanded, ‘by sneaking up on a fellow and saying “Hey!” like that? You might have given me heart failure.’
‘And what do you mean, you blighted Fink-Nottle,’ I demanded in my turn, ‘by mucking up my bed linen after I specifically forbade it? You have sheets of your own. Go and knot those.’
‘How can I? Spode is sitting on my bed.’
‘He is?’
‘Certainly he is. Waiting for me. I went there after I left you, and there he was. If he hadn’t happened to clear his throat, I’d have walked right in.’
I saw that it was high time to set this disturbed spirit at rest.
‘You needn’t be afraid of Spode, Gussie.’
‘What do you mean, I needn’t be afraid of Spode? Talk sense.’
‘I mean just that. Spode, qua menace, if qua is the word I want, is a thing of the past. Owing to the extraordinary perfection of Jeeves’s secret service system, I have learned something about him which he wouldn’t care to have generally known.’
‘What?’
‘Ah, there you have me. When I said I had learned it, I should have said that Jeeves had learned it, and unfortunately Jeeves’s lips are sealed. However, I am in a position to slip it across the man in no uncertain fashion. If he attempts any rough stuff, I will give him the works.’ I broke off, listening. Footsteps were coming along the passage. ‘Ah!’ I said. ‘Someone approaches. This may quite possibly be the blighter himself.’
An animal cry escaped Gussie.
‘Lock that door!’
I waved a fairly airy hand.
‘It will not be necessary,’ I said. ‘Let him come. I positively welcome this visit. Watch me deal with him, Gussie. It will amuse you.’
I had guessed correctly. It was Spode, all right. No doubt he had grown weary of sitting on Gussie’s bed, and had felt that another chat with Bertram might serve to vary the monotony. He came in, as before, without knocking, and as he perceived Gussie, uttered a wordless exclamation of triumph and satisfaction. He then stood for a moment, breathing heavily through the nostrils.
The Jeeves Omnibus - Vol 1: Page 33