Thank You, Jeeves: Read online

  All of which goes to show to what lengths a Wooster will proceed when it is a question of helping a pal, because the last thing I really wanted was to be closeted with this girl. The first shock of meeting her was over, but I was still feeling far from yeasty at the prospect of a heart-to-heart talk. As our relations had been severed by post and the last time we had forgathered we had been an engaged couple, I wasn't quite sure what was the correct note to strike.

  However, the thought that I might be able to put in a word for old Chuffy nerved me to the ordeal, and we parked ourselves on a rustic bench and got down to the agenda.

  'How perfectly extraordinary finding you here, Bertie,' she began. 'What are you doing in these parts?'

  'I am temporarily in retirement,' I replied, pleased to find the conversational exchanges opening on what I might call an unemotional note. 'I needed a place where I could play the banjolele in solitude, and I took this cottage.'

  'What cottage?'

  'I've got a cottage down by the harbour.'

  'You must have been surprised to see us.'

  'I was.'

  'More surprised than pleased, eh?'

  'Well, of course, old thing, I'm always delighted to meet you, but when it comes to your father and old Glossop ...'

  'He's not one of your greatest admirers, is he? By the way, Bertie, do you keep cats in your bedroom?'

  I stiffened a little.

  'There have been cats in my bedroom, but the incident to which you allude is one that is susceptible of a ready...'

  'All right. Never mind. Take it as read. But you ought to have seen father's face when he heard about it. Talking of father's face, I should get a big laugh if I saw it now.'

  I could not follow this. Goodness knows, I'm as fond of a chuckle as the next man, but J. Washburn Stoker's face had never made me so much as smile. He was a cove who always reminded me of a pirate of the Spanish Main – a massive blighter and piercing-eyed, to boot. So far from laughing at the sight of him, I had never yet failed to feel absolutely spineless in his presence.

  'If he suddenly came round the corner, I mean, and found us with our heads together like this. He's convinced that I'm still pining for you.'

  'You don't mean that?'

  'I do, honestly.'

  'But, dash it ...'

  'It's true, I tell you. He looks on himself as the stern Victorian father who has parted the young lovers and has got to exercise ceaseless vigilance to keep them from getting together again. Little knowing that you never had a happier moment in your life than when you got my letter.'

  'No, I say!'

  'Bertie, be honest. You know you were delighted.'

  'I wouldn't say that.'

  'You don't have to. Mother knows.'

  'No, dash it, really! I wish you wouldn't talk like that. I always esteemed you most highly.'

  'You did what? Where do you pick up these expressions?'

  'Well, I suppose from Jeeves, mostly. My late man. He had a fine vocabulary.'

  'When you say "late", do you mean he's dead? Or just un-punctual?'

  'He's left me. He didn't like me playing the banjolele. Words passed, and he is now with Chuffy.'

  'Chuffy?'

  'Lord Chuffnell.'

  'Oh?'

  There was a pause. She sat listening for a moment to a couple of birds who were having an argument in a near-by tree.

  'Have you known Lord Chuffnell long?' she asked.

  'Oh, rather.'

  'You're great friends?'

  'Bosom is the mot juste!

  'Good. I hoped you were. I wanted to talk to you about him. I can confide in you, can't I, Bertie?'

  'Of course.'

  'I knew I could. That's the comfort of having been engaged to a man. When you break it off, you feel such a sister.'

  'I don't regard you as a blister at all,' I said warmly. You had a perfect right ...'

  'Not blister. Sister!'

  'Oh, sister? You mean, you look on me as a brother.'

  'Yes, as a brother. How quick you are. And I want you to be very brotherly now. Tell me about Marmaduke.'

  'I don't think I know him.'

  'Lord Chuffnell, idiot.'

  'Is his name Marmaduke? Well, well! How true it is that one doesn't know how the other half of the world lives, what? Marmaduke!' I said, laughing heartily. 'I remember he was always evasive and secretive about it at school.'

  She seemed annoyed.

  'It's a beautiful name!'

  I shot one of my swift, keen glances at her. This, I felt, must mean something. Nobody would say Marmaduke was a beautiful name wantonly and without good reason. And, sure enough, the eyes were gleaming and the epidermis a pretty pink.

  'Hallo!' I said. 'Hallo, hallo, hallo! Hallo!'

  Her demeanour was defiant.

  'All right, all right!' she said. 'Less of the Sherlock stuff. I'm not trying to hide anything. I was just going to tell you.'

  'You love this ... ha, ha! Excuse me ... this Marmaduke?'

  'I'm crazy about him.'

  'Good! Well, if what you say...'

  'Don't you worship the way his hair fluffs up behind?'

  'I have better things to do than go about staring at the back of Chuffy's head. But, as I was about to remark, if what you say is really so, be prepared for tidings of great joy. I'm a pretty close observer, and a certain bulbous look in the old boy's eyes when a recent conversation happened to turn in your direction has convinced me that he is deeply enamoured of you.'

  She wiggled her shoulder impatiently, and in a rather peevish manner hoofed a passing earwig with a shapely foot.

  'I know that, you chump. Do you think a girl can't tell?'

  I was frankly nonplussed.

  'Well, if he loves you and you love him, I fail to comprehend what you are beefing about.'

  'Why, can't you understand? He's obviously dippy about me, but not a yip from him.'

  'He will not speak?'

  'Not a syllable.'

  'Well, why would he? Surely you realize that there is a certain decency in these matters, a certain decorum? Naturally he wouldn't say anything yet. Dash it, give the man a chance. He's only known you five days.'

  'I sometimes feel that he was a king in Babylon when I was a Christian slave.'

  'What makes you think that?'

  'I just do.'

  'Well, you know best, of course. Very doubtful, I should have said myself. And, anyway, what do you want me to do about it?'

  'Well, you're a friend of his. You could give him a hint. You could tell him there's no need for cold feet....'

  'It is not cold feet. It is delicacy. As I just explained, we men have our code in these matters. We may fall in love pretty nippily, but after that we consider it decorous to backpedal awhile. We are the parfait gentle knights, and we feel that it ill beseems us to make a beeline for a girl like a man charging into a railway restaurant for a bowl of soup. We ...'

  'What utter nonsense! You asked me to marry you after you had known me two weeks.'

  'Ah, but there you were dealing with one of the Wild Woosters.'

  'Well, I can't see ...'

  'Yes?' I said. 'Proceed. You have our ear.'

  But she was looking past me at something to the south-east; and, turning, I perceived that we were no longer alone.

  There, standing in an attitude of respectful courtliness, with the sunshine playing upon his finely chiselled features, was Jeeves.

  5 BERTIE TAKES THINGS IN HAND

  I nodded affably. This man and I might have severed our professional relations, but a Wooster is always debonair.

  'Ah, Jeeves.'

  'Good afternoon, sir.'

  Pauline appeared interested.

  'Is this Jeeves?'

  'This is Jeeves.'

  'So you don't like Mr Wooster's banjolele?'

  'No, miss.'

  I preferred that this delicate matter be not discussed, and it may be, in consequence, that I spoke a little curtly.


  'Well, Jeeves? What is it?'

  'Mr Stoker, sir. He is inquiring after Miss Stoker's whereabouts.'

  Well, of course, there's always that old one about them being at the wash, but this seemed to me neither the time nor the place. I turned to the girl with an air of courteous dismissal.

  'You'd better push along.'

  'I suppose so. You won't forget what I said?'

  'The matter,' I assured her, 'shall have my prompt attention.'

  She legged it, and Jeeves and I were alone together in the great solitude. I lit a cigarette nonchalantly.

  'Well, Jeeves.'

  'Sir?'

  'I mean to say, we meet again.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Philippi, what?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'I hope you're getting on all right with Chuffy?'

  'Everything is most pleasant, sir. I trust your new personal attendant is giving satisfaction?'

  'Oh, quite. A sterling fellow.'

  'I am extremely gratified to hear it, sir.'

  There was a pause.

  'Er, Jeeves,' I said.

  A rummy thing. It had been my intention, after exchanging these few civilities, to nod carelessly and leave the fellow. But it's so dashed difficult to break the habit of years. I mean to say, here was I and here was Jeeves, and a problem had been put up to me of just the type concerning which I had always been wont to seek his advice and counsel, and now something seemed to keep me rooted to the spot. And instead of being aloof and distant and passing on with the slight inclination of the head which, as I say, I had been planning, I found myself irresistibly impelled to consult him just as if there had been no rift at all.

  'Er – Jeeves,' I said.

  'Sir?'

  'I should rather like, if you have a moment to spare, to split a word with you.'

  'Certainly, sir.'

  'I wish to canvass your views regarding old Chuffy.'

  'Very good, sir.'

  His face was wearing that expression of quiet intelligence combined with a feudal desire to oblige which I had so often seen upon it, and I hesitated no longer.

  'You will agree with me that something's got to be done about the fifth Baron, I take it?'

  'I beg your pardon, sir?'

  I was impatient with this – what the dickens is the word I want?

  'Come, come, Jeeves. You know what I mean as well as I do. A little less coyness and a bit more of the old rallying round spirit. You can't tell me you've been in his employment for nearly a week without observing and deducing and forming your conclusions.'

  'Am I correct in supposing, sir, that you are alluding to his lordship's feelings towards Miss Stoker?'

  'Exactly.'

  'I am, of course, aware that his lordship is experiencing for the young lady a sentiment deeper and warmer than that of ordinary friendship, sir.'

  'Would I be going too far if I said that he was potty about her?'

  'No, sir. The expression would meet the facts of the case quite adequately.'

  'Very well, then. Now, mark this. She, too, loves, Jeeves.'

  'Indeed, sir?'

  'She was telling me so specifically when you came along. She confessed herself dippy about the man. And she's very upset, poor fish. Extremely upset. Her feminine intuition has enabled her to read his secret. She detects the lovelight in his eyes. And she is all for it. And what is worrying her is that he does not tell his love, but lets concealment like ... like what, Jeeves?'

  'A worm i' the bud, sir.'

  'Feed on his something ...'

  'Damask cheek, sir.'

  'Damask? You're sure?'

  'Quite sure, sir.'

  'Well, then, what on earth is it all about? He loves her. She loves him. So what's the snag? In conversing with her just now, I advanced the theory that what was holding him back was delicacy, but I didn't really believe it. I know Chuffy. A swift performer, if ever there was one. If he didn't propose to a girl by the end of the first week, he would think he was losing his grip. Yet now look at him. Missing on every cylinder. Why?'

  'His lordship is a gentleman of scruples, sir.'

  'How do you mean?'

  'He feels that, being of straitened means himself, he has not the right to propose marriage to a young lady as wealthy as Miss Stoker.'

  'But, dash it, Love laughs at ... no, it doesn't ... it's at locksmiths, isn't it?'

  'At locksmiths, yes, sir.'

  'Besides, she isn't as rich as all that. Just comfortably off, I should have said.'

  'No, sir. Mr Stoker's fortune amounts to as much as fifty million dollars.'

  'What! You're talking through your hat, Jeeves.'

  'No, sir. I understand that that was the sum which he inherited recently under the will of the late Mr George Stoker.'

  I was stunned.

  'Good Lord, Jeeves! Has Second Cousin George kicked the bucket?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'And left all his money to old Stoker?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Now I see. Now I understand—This explains everything. I was wondering how he managed to be going about buying vast estates. That yacht in the harbour is his, of course?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Well, well, well! But, dash it, George must have had nearer relations.'

  'Yes, sir. I understand that he disliked them all.'

  'You know about him, then?'

  'Yes, sir. I saw a good deal of his personal attendant when we were in New York. A man named Benstead.'

  'He was potty, wasn't he?'

  'Certainly extremely eccentric, sir.'

  'Any chance of one of those other relations contesting the will?'

  'I do not imagine so, sir. But in such a case Mr Stoker would rely on Sir Roderick Glossop, of course, to testify that the late Mr Stoker, while possibly somewhat individual in his habits, was nevertheless perfectly sane. The testimony of so eminent a mental specialist as Sir Roderick would be unassailable.'

  'You mean he'd say why shouldn't a fellow walk about on his hands, if he wants to? Saves shoe leather, and so forth?'

  'Exactly, sir.'

  'Then there's no chance of Miss Stoker ever being anything except the heiress of a bird with fifty million dollars shoved away behind the brick in the fire-place?'

  'Virtually none, sir.'

  I brooded on this.

  'H'm. And unless old Stoker buys the Hall, Chuffy will continue to be Kid Lazarus, the man without a bean. One spots the drama of the situation. And yet, why, Jeeves? Why all this fuss about money? After all, plenty of bust blokes have married oofy girls before now.'

  'Yes, sir. But his lordship is a gentleman of peculiar views on this particular matter.'

  I mused. Yes, I reflected, it was quite true. Chuffy is a fellow who has always been odd on the subject of money. It's something to do with the Pride of the Chuffnells, I suppose. I know that for years and years I have been trying to lend him of my plenty, but he has always steadfastly refused to put the bite on me.

  'It's difficult,' I said. 'One fails for the moment to see the way out. And yet you may be wrong, Jeeves. After all, you're only guessing.'

  'No, sir. His lordship did me the honour to confide in me.'

  'Really? How did the subject come up?'

  'Mr Stoker had expressed a wish that I should enter his employment. He approached me in the matter. I informed his lordship. His lordship instructed me to hold out hopes.'

  'You can't mean that he wants you to leave him and go to old Stoker?'

  'No, sir. He specifically stated the reverse, with a good deal of vehemence. But he was anxious that I should not break off the negotiations with a definite refusal until the sale of Chuffnell Hall had gone through.'

  'I see. I follow his strategy. He wanted you to jolly old Stoker along and keep him sweetened till he had signed the fatal papers?'

  'Precisely, sir. It was this conversation that led up to his lordship revealing his personal position as concerns Miss Stoker. Until hi
s financial status is sufficiently sound to justify him in doing so, his self-respect will not permit him to propose marriage to the young lady.'

  'Silly ass!'

  'I would not have ventured to employ precisely that term myself, sir, but I confess that I regard his lordship's attitude as somewhat hyper-quixotic'

  'We must talk him out of it.'

  'Impossible, sir, I fear. I endeavoured to do so myself, but my arguments were of no avail. His lordship has a complex.'

  'A what?'

  'A complex, sir. It seems that he once witnessed a musical comedy, in which one of the dramatis personæ was a certain impecunious peer, Lord Wotwotleigh, who was endeavouring to marry an American heiress, and this individual appears to have made a lasting impression on his mind. He stated to me in the most unequivocal terms that he refused to place himself in a position where comparisons might be instituted.'

  'But suppose the sale of the house does not go through?'

  'In that case, I fear, sir ...'

  'The damask cheek will continue to do business at the old stand indefinitely?'

  'Exactly, sir.'

  'You really are sure it is "damask"?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'But it doesn't seem to mean anything.'

  'An archaic adjective, sir. I fancy it is intended to signify a healthy complexion.'

  'Well, Chuffy's got that.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'But what good's a healthy complexion if you don't get the girl?'

  'Very true, sir.'

  'What would you advise, Jeeves?'

  'I fear I have nothing to suggest at the moment, sir.'

  'Come, come, Jeeves.'

  'No, sir. The difficulty being essentially a psychological one, I find myself somewhat baffled. As long as the image of Lord Wotwotleigh persists in his lordship's consciousness, I fear that there is nothing to be done.'

  'Of course there is. Why this strange weakness, Jeeves? It is not like you. Obviously, the fellow must be shoved over the brink.'

  'I do not quite follow you, sir.'

  'Of course you do. The thing's perfectly clear. Here's old Chuffy, for the nonce just hanging dumbly round the girl. What he needs is a jolt. If he thought there was grave danger of some other bloke scooping her up, wouldn't that make him forget these dashed silly ideas of his and charge in, breathing fire through the nostrils?'

  'Jealousy is undoubtedly an extremely powerful motivating force, sir.'