The Jeeves Omnibus (22 page)

‘Yes. What was all that, by the way? That Seaview Hotel stuff.’

‘Her ladyship is somewhat exercised in her mind about Sir Roderick, sir. I fancy that on reflection she has reached the conclusion that she did not treat him well last night.’

‘Mother Love not so hot this morning?’

‘No, sir.’

‘And it’s a case of “Return and all will be forgiven”?’

‘Precisely, sir. But unfortunately, Sir Roderick appears to be missing, and we can secure no information as to what has become of him.’

I was in a position, of course, to explain and clarify, and I did so without delay.

‘He’s all right. After an invigorating session with Brinkley, he went to my garage to get petrol. Was he correct in supposing that that would clean him as well as butter?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then I should think he was on his way to London by now, if not actually in the Metropolis.’

‘I will notify her ladyship at once, sir. I imagine that the information will serve sensibly to lessen her anxiety.’

‘You really thinks she loves him still and wishes to extend the
amende honorable
?’

‘Or olive branch? Yes, sir. So, at least, I divined from her demeanour.
I
was left with the impression that all the old love and esteem were in operation once more.’

‘And I’m very glad to hear it,’ I said cordially. ‘For I must tell you, Jeeves, that since we last got together I have completely changed my mind about the above Glossop. I see now that there is much good in him. In the silent watches of the night we formed what you wouldn’t be far out in describing as a beautiful friendship. We discovered each other’s hidden merits, and he left showering invitations to lunch.’

‘Indeed, sir?’

‘Absolutely. From now on, there will always be a knife and fork for Bertram at the Glossop lair, and the same for Roddy
chez
Bertram.’

‘Very gratifying, sir.’

‘Most. So if you’re chatting with Lady Chuffnell in the near future, you can tell her that the match now has my full approval and sanction. But all this, Jeeves,’ I proceeded, striking the practical note, ‘is beside the point. The main issue is that I am sorely in need of nourishment, and I want that tray. So hand it across and look slippy.’

‘You are proposing to eat his lordship’s breakfast, sir?’

‘Jeeves,’ I said emotionally, and was about to go on to add that, if he had any doubts as to what I was proposing to do to that breakfast, he could remove them by standing to one side and watching me get into action, when one more I heard footsteps in the passage outside.

Instead of speaking along these lines, accordingly, I blenched, as near as a fellow can blench when his face is all covered with boot polish, and broke off with a brief heart-cry. Once more I perceived that it had become imperative that I vanish from the scene.

These footsteps, I must mention, were of the solid, sturdy, shoe-number-eleven type. It was natural, therefore, that I should assume that it was Chuffy who now stood without. And to encounter Chuffy, I need scarcely say, would have been foreign to my policy. I have already indicated with, I think, sufficient clearness, that he was not in sympathy with my aims and objects. That interview we had on the previous night had shown me that he was to be reckoned as essentially one of the opposition – a hostile element and a menace. Let him discover me here, and the first thing I knew he would be locking me up somewhere in a spirit of chivalrous zeal and sending messages to old Stoker to drop round and collect.

Long, therefore, before the handle had turned I was down in the depths like a diving duck.

The door opened. A female voice spoke. No doubt that of the future Mrs Constable Dobson.

‘Mr Stoker,’ it announced.

Large, flat feet clumped into the room.

I WEDGED MYSELF
a little tighter in behind the old zareba. Not so good, not so good, a voice seemed to be whispering in my ear. Of all the unpleasant contingencies which could have arisen, this seemed to me about the scaliest. Whatever might have been said against Chuffnell Hall – and recent events had tended considerably to lessen its charm in my eyes – I had supposed that you could put forward at least one thing in its favour, viz that there was no possible chance of encountering J. Washburn Stoker on the premises. And, in spite of having my time fairly fully occupied with feeling like a jelly, I was still able to experience quite a spot of honest indignation of what I considered a dashed unjustifiable intrusion on his part.

I mean to say, if a man has thrown his weight about in a stately home of England, ticking off the residents and asserting positively that he jolly well isn’t going to darken its doors again, he has no right to come strolling in barely two days later as if the place were an hotel with ‘Welcome’ on the mat. I felt pretty strongly about the whole thing.

I was also wondering how Jeeves would handle this situation. By this time a shrewd bloke like this Stoker was bound to have guessed that his were the brains behind my escape, and it seemed not unlikely that he would make some tentative move towards scattering these brains on the hearthrug. His voice, when he spoke, undoubtedly indicated that some such idea was floating in his mind. It was harsh and roopy, and though all that he actually said by way of a start was ‘Ah!’ a determined man can get a lot of meaning into an ‘Ah!’

‘Good morning, sir,’ said Jeeves.

This business of lying curled up behind desks cuts both ways. It has its advantages and its drawbacks. Purely from the standpoint of the slinking fugitive, of course, fine. Indeed, could scarcely be bettered. But against this must be set the fact that it undoubtedly hampers a chap in his capacity of audience. The effect now was much the same as if I had been listening in to a dramatic sketch on
the
wireless. I got the voices, but I missed the play of expression. And I’d have given a lot to be able to see it. Not Jeeves’s, of course, because Jeeves never has any. But Stoker’s, it seemed to me, would have been well worth more than a casual glance.

‘So you’re here, are you?’

‘Yes, sir.’

The next item was an extremely nasty laugh from the visitor. One of those hard, short, sharp ones.

‘I came here because I wanted information about where Mr Wooster has got to. I thought that Lord Chuffnell might possibly have seen him. I never reckoned I should run into you. Say, listen,’ said the Stoker disease, suddenly hotting up, ‘do you know what I’ve a mind to do to you?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Break your damned neck.’

‘Indeed, sir?’

‘Yes.’

I heard Jeeves cough.

‘A little extreme, sir, surely? I can appreciate that the fact that I decided – somewhat abruptly, I admit – to leave your employment and return to that of his lordship should occasion displeasure on your part, but –’

‘You know what I’m talking about. Or are you going to deny that it was you who smuggled that guy Wooster off my yacht?’

‘No, sir. I admit that I was instrumental in restoring his liberty to Mr Wooster. In the course of a conversation which I had with him, Mr Wooster informed me that he was being detained on the vessel
ultra vires
, and, acting in your best interests, I released him. At that time, you will recall, sir, I was in your employment, and I felt it my duty to save you from what might have been an extremely serious contretemps.’

I couldn’t see, of course, but I received the impression from a certain amount of gurgling and snorting which he put in during these remarks that old Stoker would have been glad to have the floor a bit earlier. I could have told him it wasn’t any good. You can’t switch Jeeves off when he has something to say which he feels will be of interest. The only thing is to stand by and wait till he runs down.

But though he had now done so, it wasn’t right away that the party of the second part started anything in the nature of a counter-speech.
I
imagine that the substance of Jeeves’s little talk had given him food for thought.

In this conjecture, it appeared that I was correct. Old Stoker breathed a bit tensely for a while, then he spoke in almost an awed voice. It’s often that way when you get up against Jeeves. He has a way of suggesting new viewpoints.

‘Are you crazy or am I?’

‘Sir?’

‘Save
me
, did you say, from –?’

‘A contretemps? Yes, sir. I cannot make the assertion authoritatively, for I am not certain to what extent the fact that Mr Wooster came on board the yacht of his own volition would weigh with a jury –’

‘Jury?’

‘– but his detention on the vessel despite his expressed desire to leave would, I am inclined to imagine, constitute an act of kidnapping, the penalties for which, as you are no doubt aware, sir, are very severe.’

‘But, say, listen –!’

‘England is an extremely law-abiding country, sir, and offences which might pass unnoticed in your own land are prosecuted here with the greatest rigour. My knowledge of legal
minutiœ
is, I regret to say, slight, so I cannot asseverate with perfect confidence that this detention of Mr Wooster would have ranked as an act in contravention of the criminal code, and, as such, liable to punishment with penal servitude, but undoubtedly, had I not intervened, the young gentleman would have been in a position to bring a civil action and mulct you in very substantial damages. So, acting, as I say, in your best interests, sir, I released Mr Wooster.’

There was a silence.

‘Thanks,’ said old Stoker mildly.

‘Not at all, sir.’

‘Thank you very much.’

‘I did what I considered the only thing that could avert a most disagreeable contingency, sir.’

‘Darned good of you.’

I must say I can’t see why Jeeves shouldn’t go down in legend and song. Daniel did, on the strength of putting in half an hour or so in the lions’ den and leaving the dumb chums in a condition of suavity and camaraderie; and if what Jeeves had just done wasn’t entitled to rank well above a feat like that, I’m no judge of form. In
less
than five minutes he had reduced this ravening Stoker from a sort of human wildcat to a positive domestic pet. If I hadn’t been there and heard it, I wouldn’t have believed it was possible.

‘I’ve got to think about this,’ said old Stoker, milder than ever.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I hadn’t looked at it that way before. Yes, sir, I’ve got to think about this. I believe I’ll go for a walk and mull it over in my mind. Lord Chuffnell hasn’t seen Mr Wooster, has he?’

‘Not since last night, sir.’

‘Oh, he saw him last night, did he? Which way was he headed?’

‘I rather fancy it was Mr Wooster’s intention to pass the night in the Dower House and return to London today.’

‘The Dower House? That’s the place across the park?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I might look in there. It seems to me the first thing I’ve got to do is have a talk with Mr Wooster.’

‘Yes, sir.’

I heard him go out through the french window, but it wasn’t till another moment or two had passed that I felt justified in coming to the surface. It being reasonable to suppose by then that the coast was clear, I poked the head up over the desk.

‘Jeeves,’ I said, and if there were tears in the eyes, what of it? We Woosters are not afraid to confess honest emotion, ‘there is none like you, none.’

‘It is extremely kind of you to say so, sir.’

‘It was all I could do to keep from leaping out and shaking your hand.’

‘It would scarcely have been judicious, in the circumstances, sir.’

‘That’s what I thought. Your father wasn’t a snake-charmer, was he, Jeeves?’

‘No, sir.’

‘It just crossed my mind. What do you think will happen when old Stoker gets to the Dower House?’

‘We can only conjecture, sir.’

‘My fear is that Brinkley may have slept it off by now.’

‘There is that possibility, sir.’

‘Still, it was a kindly thought, sending the fellow there, and we must hope for the best. After all, Brinkley still has that chopper. I say, do you think Chuffy is really coming down?’

‘At any moment, I fancy, sir.’

‘Then you wouldn’t advise my eating his breakfast?’

‘No, sir.’

‘But I’m starving, Jeeves.’

‘I am extremely sorry, sir. The position at the moment is a little difficult. Later on, no doubt, I may be able to alleviate your distress.’

‘Have you had breakfast, Jeeves?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What did you have?’

‘The juice of an orange, sir, followed by Cute Crispies – an American cereal – scrambled eggs with a slice of bacon, and toast and marmalade.’

‘Oh, gosh! The whole washed down, no doubt, with a cup of strengthening coffee?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Oh, my God! You really don’t think I could just sneak a single sausage?’

‘I would scarcely advocate it, sir. And it is a small point, but his lordship is having kippers.’

‘Kippers!’

‘And this, I fancy, will be his lordship coming now, sir.’

So down one more into the lower levels for Bertram. And I had hardly fitted myself into the groove when the door opened.

A voice spoke.

‘Why, hallo, Jeeves.’

‘Good morning, miss.’

It was Pauline Stoker.

I must say I was a bit peeved. Chuffnell Hall, whatever its other defects, should, as I have pointed out, have been entirely free from Stokers. And here they were, absolutely over-running the place like mice. I was quite prepared to find something breathing in my ear and look round and see little Dwight. I mean to say, I was feeling – bitterly, I admit – that if this was going to be an Old Home Week of Stokers, one might as well make the thing complete.

Pauline had begun to sniff vigorously.

‘What’s that I smell, Jeeves?’

‘Kippered herrings, miss.’

‘Whose?’

‘His lordship’s, miss.’

‘Oh. I haven’t had breakfast yet, Jeeves.’

‘No, miss?’

‘No. Father yanked me out of bed and had me half-way here before I was properly awake. He’s all worked up, Jeeves.’