The only consolation I had in the black period of the opening of the
tourney was the fact that the Right Hon. had taken a seat among the
spectators and was wedged in between a couple of females with parasols.
Reason told me that even a kid so steeped in sin as young Thos. would
hardly perpetrate any outrage on a man in such a strong strategic
position. Considerably relieved, I gave myself up to the game, and was
in the act of putting it across the local curate with a good deal of
vim when there was a roll of thunder and the rain started to come down
in buckets.
We all stampeded for the house, and had gathered in the drawing room
for tea when suddenly Aunt Agatha, looking up from a cucumber sandwich,
said:
"Has anybody seen Mr. Filmer?"
It was one of the nastiest jars I have ever experienced. What with my
fast serve zipping sweetly over the net and the man of God utterly
unable to cope with my slow bending return down the centre line, I
had for some little time been living, as it were, in another world.
I now came down to earth with a bang; and my slice of cake, slipping
from my nerveless fingers, fell to the ground and was wolfed by Aunt
Agatha's terrier, McIntosh. Once more I seemed to become conscious of
an impending doom.
For this man Filmer, you must understand, was not one of those men
who are lightly kept from the tea table. A hearty trencherman and
particularly fond of his five o'clock couple of cups and bite of
muffin, he had until this afternoon always been well up among the
leaders in the race for the food trough. If one thing was certain, it
was that only the machinations of some enemy could be keeping him from
being in the drawing room now, complete with nosebag.
"He must have got caught in the rain and be sheltering somewhere in
the grounds," said Aunt Agatha. "Bertie, go out and find him. Take a
raincoat to him."
"Right ho!" I said. And I meant it. My only desire in life now was to
find the Right Hon. And I hoped it wouldn't be merely his body.
I put on a raincoat and tucked another under my arm, and was sallying
forth, when in the hall I ran into Jeeves.
"Jeeves," I said, "I fear the worst. Mr. Filmer is missing."
"Yes, sir."
"I am about to scour the grounds in search of him."
"I can save you the trouble, sir. Mr. Filmer is on the island in the
middle of the lake."
"In this rain? Why doesn't the chump row back?"
"He has no boat, sir."
"Then how can he be on the island?"
"He rowed there, sir. But Master Thomas rowed after him and set his
boat adrift. He was informing me of the circumstances a moment ago,
sir. It appears that Captain Flint was in the habit of marooning
people on islands, and Master Thomas felt that he could pursue no more
judicious course than to follow his example."
"But, good Lord, Jeeves! The man must be getting soaked."
"Yes, sir. Master Thomas commented upon that aspect of the matter."
It was a time for action.
"Come with me, Jeeves!"
"Very good, sir."