Read The Jeeves Omnibus Online
Authors: P. G. Wodehouse
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Humour, #Literary, #Fiction, #Classic, #General, #Classics
‘The expression “Gawd-help-us” is one which I would not have gone so far as to use myself, for I think a chivalrous man ought to stop somewhere. But since you have brought it up, I admit that it covers the facts.’
‘I never realized that that was how things were. No wonder you want that book.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Well, all this has opened up a new line of thought.’
That grave, dreamy look had come into her face. She massaged the dog Bartholomew’s spine with a pensive foot.
‘Come on,’ I said, chaffing at the delay. ‘Slip it across.’
‘Just a moment. I’m trying to straighten it all out in my mind. You know, Bertie, I really ought to take that book to Uncle Watkyn.’
‘What!’
‘That’s what my conscience tells me to do. After all, I owe a lot to him. For years he has been a second father to me. And he ought to know how Gussie feels about him, oughtn’t he? I mean to say, a bit tough on the old buster, cherishing what he thinks is a harmless newt-fancier in his bosom, when all the time it’s a snake that goes about criticizing the way he drinks soup. However, as you’re being so sweet and are going to help Harold and me by stealing that cow-creamer, I suppose I shall have to stretch a point.’
We Woosters are pretty quick. I don’t suppose it was more than a couple of minutes before I figured out what she meant. I read her purpose, and shuddered.
She was naming the Price of the Papers. In other words, after being blackmailed by an aunt at breakfast, I was now being blackmailed by a female crony before dinner. Pretty good going, even for this lax post-war world.
‘Stiffy!’ I cried.
‘It’s no good saying “Stiffy!” Either you sit in and do your bit, or Uncle Watkyn gets some racy light reading over his morning egg and coffee. Think it over, Bertie.’
She hoisted the dog Bartholomew to his feet, and trickled off towards the house. The last I saw of her was a meaning look, directed at me over her shoulder, and it went through me like a knife.
I had slumped back on to the wall, and I sat there, stunned. Just how long, I don’t know, but it was a goodish time. Winged creatures of the night barged into me, but I gave them little attention. It was not till a voice suddenly spoke a couple of feet or so above my bowed head that I came out of the coma.
‘Good evening, Wooster,’ said the voice.
I looked up. The cliff-like mass looming over me was Roderick Spode.
I suppose even Dictators have their chummy moments, when they put their feet up and relax with the boys, but it was plain from the outset that if Roderick Spode had a sunnier side, he had not come
with
any idea of exhibiting it now. His manner was curt. One sensed the absence of the bonhomous note.
‘I should like a word with you, Wooster.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘I have been talking to Sir Watkyn Bassett, and he has told me the whole story of the cow-creamer.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘And we know why you are here.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘Stop saying “Oh, yes?” you miserable worm, and listen to me.’
Many chaps might have resented his tone. I did myself, as a matter of fact. But you know how it is. There are some fellows you are right on your toes to tick off when they call you a miserable worm, others not quite so much.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said, saying it himself, dash it, ‘it is perfectly plain to us why you are here. You have been sent by your uncle to steal this cow-creamer for him. You needn’t trouble to deny it. I found you with the thing in your hands this afternoon. And now, we learn, your aunt is arriving. The muster of the vultures, ha!’
He paused a moment, then repeated ‘The muster of the vultures,’ as if he thought pretty highly of it as a gag. I couldn’t see that it was so very hot myself.
‘Well, what I came to tell you, Wooster, was that you are being watched – watched closely. And if you are caught stealing that cow-creamer, I can assure you that you will go to prison. You need entertain no hope that Sir Watkyn will shrink from creating a scandal. He will do his duty as a citizen and a Justice of the Peace.’
Here he laid a hand upon my shoulder, and I can’t remember when I have experienced anything more unpleasant. Apart from what Jeeves would have called the symbolism of the action, he had a grip like the bite of a horse.
‘Did you say “Oh, yes?”’ he asked.
‘Oh, no,’ I assured him.
‘Good. Now, what you are saying to yourself, no doubt, is that you will not be caught. You imagine that you and this precious aunt of yours will be clever enough between you to steal the cow-creamer without being detected. It will do you no good, Wooster. If the thing disappears, however cunningly you and your female accomplice may have covered your traces, I shall know where it has gone, and I shall immediately beat you to a jelly. To a jelly,’ he repeated, rolling the
words
round his tongue as if they were vintage port. ‘Have you got that clear?’
‘Oh, quite.’
‘You are sure you understand?’
‘Oh, definitely.’
‘Splendid.’
A dim figure was approaching across the terrace, and he changed his tone to one of a rather sickening geniality.
‘What a lovely evening, is it not? Extraordinarily mild for the time of year. Well, I mustn’t keep you any longer. You will be wanting to go and dress for dinner. Just a black tie. We are quite informal here. Yes?’
The word was addressed to the dim figure. A familiar cough revealed its identity.
‘I wished to speak to Mr Wooster, sir. I have a message for him from Mrs Travers. Mrs Travers presents her compliments, sir, and desires me to say that she is in the Blue Room and would be glad if you could make it convenient to call upon her there as soon as possible. She has a matter of importance which she wishes to discuss.’
I heard Spode snort in the darkness.
‘So Mrs Travers has arrived?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And has a matter of importance to discuss with Mr Wooster?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Ha!’ said Spode, and biffed off with a short, sharp laugh.
I rose from my seat.
‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘stand by to counsel and advise. The plot has thickened.’
I SLID INTO
the shirt, and donned the knee-length underwear.
‘Well, Jeeves,’ I said, ‘how about it?’
During the walk to the house I had placed him in possession of the latest developments, and had left him to turn them over in his mind with a view to finding a formula, while I went along the passage and took a hasty bath. I now gazed at him hopefully, like a seal awaiting a bit of fish.
‘Thought of anything, Jeeves?’
‘Not yet, sir, I regret to say.’
‘What, no results whatever?’
‘None, sir, I fear.’
I groaned a hollow one, and shoved on the trousers. I had become so accustomed to having this gifted man weigh in with the ripest ideas at the drop of the hat that the possibility of his failing to deliver on this occasion had not occurred to me. The blow was a severe one, and it was with a quivering hand that I now socked the feet. A strange frozen sensation had come over me, rendering the physical and mental processes below par. It was as though both limbs and bean had been placed in a refrigerator and overlooked for several days.
‘It may be, Jeeves,’ I said, a thought occurring, ‘that you haven’t got the whole scenario clear in your mind. I was able to give you only the merest outline before going off to scour the torso. I think it would help if we did what they do in the thrillers. Do you ever read thrillers?’
‘Not very frequently, sir.’
‘Well, there’s always a bit where the detective, in order to clarify his thoughts, writes down a list of suspects, motives, times when, alibis, clues and what not. Let us try this plan. Take pencil and paper, Jeeves, and we will assemble the facts. Entitle the thing “Wooster, B., – position of.” Ready?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Right. Now, then. Item one – Aunt Dahlia says that if I don’t pinch that cow-creamer and hand it over to her, she will bar me from her table, and no more of Anatole’s cooking.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘We now come to Item Two – viz, if I do pinch the cow-creamer and hand it over to her, Spode will beat me to a jelly.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Furthermore – Item Three – if I pinch it and hand it over to her and don’t pinch it and hand it over to Harold Pinker, not only shall I undergo the jellying process alluded to above, but Stiffy will take that notebook of Gussie’s and hand it over to Sir Watkyn Bassett. And you know and I know what the result of that would be. Well, there you are. That’s the set-up. You’ve got it?’
‘Yes, sir. It is certainly a somewhat unfortunate state of affairs.’
I gave him one of my looks.
‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘don’t try me too high. Not at a moment like this. Somewhat unfortunate, forsooth! Who was it you were telling me about the other day, on whose head all the sorrows of the world had come?’
‘The Mona Lisa, sir.’
‘Well, if I met the Mona Lisa at this moment, I would shake her by the hand and assure her that I knew just how she felt. You see before you, Jeeves, a toad beneath the harrow.’
‘Yes, sir. The trousers perhaps a quarter of an inch higher, sir. One aims at the carelessly graceful break over the instep. It is a matter of the nicest adjustment.’
‘Like that?’
‘Admirable, sir.’
I sighed.
‘There are moments, Jeeves, when one asks oneself “Do trousers matter?”’
‘The mood will pass, sir.’
‘I don’t see why it should. If you can’t think of a way out of this mess, it seems to me that it is the end. Of course,’ I proceeded on a somewhat brighter note, ‘you haven’t really had time to get your teeth into the problem yet. While I am at dinner, examine it once more from every angle. It is just possible that an inspiration might pop up. Inspirations do, don’t they? All in a flash, as it were?’
‘Yes, sir. The mathematician Archimedes is related to have discovered the principle of displacement quite suddenly one morning, while in his bath.’
‘Well, there you are. And I don’t suppose he was such a devil of a chap. Compared with you, I mean.’
‘A gifted man, I believe, sir. It has been a matter of general regret that he was subsequently killed by a common soldier.’
‘Too bad. Still, all flesh is as grass, what?’
‘Very true, sir.’
I lighted a thoughtful cigarette and, dismissing Archimedes for the nonce, allowed my mind to dwell once more on the ghastly jam into which I had been thrust by young Stiffy’s ill-advised behaviour.
‘You know, Jeeves,’ I said, ‘when you really start to look into it, it’s perfectly amazing how the opposite sex seems to go out of its way to snooter me. You recall Miss Wickham and the hot-water bottle?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And Gwladys what-was-her-name, who put her boyfriend with the broken leg to bed in my flat?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And Pauline Stoker, who invaded my rural cottage at dead of night in a bathing suit?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What a sex! What a sex, Jeeves! But none of that sex, however deadlier than the male, can be ranked in the same class with this Stiffy. Who was the chap lo whose name led all the rest – the bird with the angel?’
‘Abou ben Adhem, sir.’
‘That’s Stiffy. She’s the top. Yes, Jeeves?’
‘I was merely about to inquire, sir, if Miss Byng, when she uttered her threat of handing over Mr Fink-Nottle’s notebook to Sir Watkyn, by any chance spoke with a twinkle in her eye?’
‘A roguish one, you mean, indicating that she was merely pulling my leg? Not a suspicion of it. No, Jeeves, I have seen untwinkling eyes before, many of them, but never a pair so totally free from twinkle as hers. She wasn’t kidding. She meant business. She was fully aware that she was doing something which even by female standards was raw, but she didn’t care. The whole fact of the matter is that all this modern emancipation of women has resulted in them getting it up their noses and not giving a damn what they do. It was not like this in Queen Victoria’s day. The Prince Consort would have had a word to say about a girl like Stiffy, what?’
‘I can conceive that His Royal Highness might quite possibly not have approved of Miss Byng.’
‘He would have had her over his knee, laying into her with a slipper, before she knew where she was. And I wouldn’t put it past him to have treated Aunt Dahlia in a similar fashion. Talking of which, I suppose I ought to be going and seeing the aged relative.’
‘She appeared very desirous of conferring with you, sir.’
‘Far from mutual, Jeeves, that desire. I will confess frankly that I am not looking forward to the
séance
.’
‘No, sir?’
‘No. You see, I sent her a telegram just before tea, saying that I wasn’t going to pinch that cow-creamer, and she must have left London long before it arrived. In other words, she has come expecting to find a nephew straining at the leash to do her bidding, and the news will have to be broken to her that the deal is off. She will not like this, Jeeves, and I don’t mind telling you that the more I contemplate the coming chat, the colder the feet become.’
‘If I might suggest, sir – it is, of course, merely a palliative – but it has often been found in times of despondency that the assumption of formal evening dress has a stimulating effect on the morale.’
‘You think I ought to put on a white tie? Spode told me black.’
‘I consider that the emergency justifies the departure, sir.’
‘Perhaps you’re right.’
And, of course, he was. In these delicate matters of psychology he never errs. I got into the full soup and fish, and was immediately conscious of a marked improvement. The feet became warmer, a sparkle returned to the lack-lustre eyes, and the soul seemed to expand as if someone had got to work on it with a bicycle pump. And I was surveying the effect in the mirror, kneading the tie with gentle fingers and running over in my mind a few things which I proposed to say to Aunt Dahlia if she started getting tough, when the door opened and Gussie came in.
At the sight of this bespectacled bird, a pang of compassion shot through me, for a glance was enough to tell me that he was not abreast of stop-press events. There was visible in his demeanour not one of the earmarks of a man to whom Stiffy had been confiding her plans. His bearing was buoyant, and I exchanged a swift, meaning glance with Jeeves. Mine said ‘He little knows!’ and so did his.