"Do you imply, Aunt Dahlia," I said, and I can't remember if I rapped
the table with the handle of my fork or not, but I rather think I did,
"that I allow Jeeves to boss me to the extent of stopping me marrying
somebody I want to marry?"
"Well, he stopped you wearing a moustache. And purple socks. And
soft-fronted shirts with dress clothes."
"That is a different matter altogether."
"Well, I'm prepared to make a small bet with you, Bertie. Jeeves will
stop this match."
"What absolute rot!"
"And if he doesn't like that portrait he will get rid of it."
"I never heard such dashed nonsense in my life."
"And finally, you wretched, pie-faced wambler, he will present you on
board my yacht at the appointed hour. I don't know how he will do it,
but you will be there, all complete with yachting cap and spare pair of
socks."
"Let us change the subject, Aunt Dahlia," I said.
Being a good deal stirred up by the attitude of the flesh-and-blood
at the luncheon table, I had to go for a bit of a walk in the park
after leaving, to soothe the nervous system. By about four-thirty the
ganglions had ceased to vibrate, and I returned. Jeeves was in the
sitting room, looking at the portrait.
I felt a trifle embarrassed in the man's presence, because just before
leaving I had informed him of my intention to scratch the yacht trip,
and he had taken it on the chin a bit. You see, he had been looking
forward to it rather.
From the moment I had accepted the invitation there had been a sort
of nautical glitter in his eye, and I'm not sure I hadn't heard him
trolling chanteys in the kitchen.
I think some ancestor of his must have been one of Nelson's tars or
something, for he has always had the urge of the salt sea in his blood.
I have noticed him on liners, when we were going to America, striding
the deck with a sailorly roll and giving the distinct impression of
being just about to heave the main brace or splice the binnacle.
So, though I had explained my reasons, taking the man fully into my
confidence and concealing nothing, I knew that he was distinctly
peeved; and my first act on entering was to do the cheery a bit. I
joined him in front of the portrait.
"Looks good, Jeeves, what?"
"Yes, sir."
"Nothing like a spot of art for brightening the home. Seems to lend the
room a certain what-shall-I-say?"
"Yes, sir."
The responses were all right, but his manner was far from hearty, and I
decided to tackle him squarely. I mean, dash it--I mean, I don't know
if you have ever had your portrait painted, but if you have you will
understand my feelings.
The spectacle of one's portrait hanging on the wall creates in one a
sort of paternal fondness for the thing; and what you demand from the
outside public is approval and enthusiasm--not the curling lip, the
twitching nostril, and the kind of supercilious look which you see in
the eye of a dead fish. Especially is this so when the artist is a girl
for whom you have conceived sentiments deeper and warmer than those of
ordinary friendship.
"Jeeves," I said, "you don't like this spot of art."
"Oh, yes, sir."
"No. Subterfuge is useless. I can read you like a book. For some reason
this spot of art fails to appeal to you. What do you object to about
it?"
"Is not the colour scheme a trifle bright, sir?"
"I had not observed it, Jeeves. Anything else?"
"Well, in my opinion, sir, Miss Pendlebury has given you a somewhat
too-hungry expression."
"Hungry?"
"A little like that of a dog regarding a distant bone, sir."
I checked the fellow. "There is no resemblance whatever, Jeeves, to a
dog regarding a distant bone. The look to which you allude is wistful
and denotes Soul."
"I see, sir."
I proceeded to another subject. "Miss Pendlebury said she might look in
this afternoon. Did she turn up?"
"Yes, sir."
"But has left?"
"Yes, sir."
"She didn't say anything about coming back?"
"No, sir. I received the impression that it was not Miss Pendlebury's
intention to return. She was a little upset, sir, and expressed a
desire to go to her studio and rest."
"Upset? What about?"
"The accident, sir."
I didn't actually clutch the brow, but I did a bit of mental brow
clutching, as it were.
"Don't tell me she had an accident!"
"Yes, sir."
"What sort of accident?"
"Automobile, sir."
"Was she hurt?"
"No, sir. Only the gentleman."
"What gentleman?"
"Miss Pendlebury had the misfortune to run over a gentleman in her
car almost immediately opposite this building. He sustained a slight
fracture of the leg."
"Too bad! But Miss Pendlebury is all right?"
"Physically, sir, her condition appeared to be satisfactory. She was
suffering a certain distress of mind."
"Of course, with her beautiful, sympathetic nature. Naturally it's a
hard world for a girl, Jeeves, with fellows flinging themselves under
the wheels of her car in one long, unending stream. It must have been a
great shock to her. What became of the chump?"
"The gentleman, sir?"
"Yes."
"He is in your spare bedroom, sir."
"What!"
"Yes, sir."
"In my spare bedroom?"
"Yes, sir. It was Miss Pendlebury's desire that he should be taken
there. She instructed me to telegraph to the gentleman's sister, sir,
who is in Paris, advising her of the accident. I also summoned a
medical man, who gave it as his opinion that the patient should remain
for the time being _in statu quo_."
"You mean the corpse is on the premises for an indefinite visit?"
"Yes, sir."
"Jeeves, this is a bit thick!"
"Yes, sir."
And I meant it, dash it! I mean to say, a girl can be pretty heftily
divine and ensnare the heart and what not, but she's no right to turn
a fellow's flat into a morgue. I'm bound to say that for a moment the
Wooster passion ebbed a trifle.
"Well, I suppose I'd better go and introduce myself to the blighter.
After all, I am his host. Has he a name?"
"Mr. Pim, sir."
"Pim!"
"Yes, sir. And the young lady addressed him as Lucius. It was owing to
the fact that he was on his way here to examine the portrait which she
had painted that Mr. Pim happened to be in the roadway at the moment
when Miss Pendlebury turned the corner."
I headed for the spare bedroom. I was perturbed to a degree. I don't
know if you have ever loved and been handicapped in your wooing by a
wavy-haired rival, but one of the things you don't want in such circs.
is the rival parking himself on the premises with a broken leg.
Apart from anything else, the advantage the position gives him is
obviously terrific. There he is, sitting up and toying with a grape
and looking pale and interesting, the object of the girl's pity and
concern; and where do you get off, bounding about the place in morning
costume and spats and with the rude flush of health on the cheek? It
seemed to me that things were beginning to look pretty scaly.
I found Lucius Pim lying in bed, draped in a suit of my pajamas,
smoking one of my cigarettes, and reading a detective story. He waved
the cigarette at me in what I considered a dashed patronizing manner.
"Ah, Wooster!" he said.
"Not so much of the 'Ah, Wooster!'" I replied brusquely. "How soon can
you be moved?"
"In a week or so, I fancy."
"In a week!"
"Or so. For the moment, the doctor insists on perfect quiet and repose.
So forgive me, old man, for asking you not to raise your voice. A
hushed whisper is the stuff to give the troops. And now, Wooster, about
this accident. We must come to an understanding."
"Are you sure you can't be moved?"
"Quite. The doctor said so."
"I think we ought to get a second opinion."
"Useless, my dear fellow. He was most emphatic, and evidently a man who
knew his job. Don't worry about my not being comfortable here. I shall
be quite all right. I like this bed. And now, to return to the subject
of this accident. My sister will be arriving to-morrow. She will be
greatly upset. I am her favourite brother."
"You are?"
"I am."
"How many of you are there?"
"Six."
"And you're her favourite?"
"I am."
It seemed to me that the other five must be pretty fairly subhuman, but
I didn't say so. We Woosters can curb the tongue.
"She married a bird named Slingsby. Slingsby's Superb Soups. He rolls
in money. But do you think I can get him to lend a trifle from time
to time to a needy brother-in-law?" said Lucius Pim bitterly. "No,
indeed. However, that is neither here nor there.
"The point is that my sister loves me devotedly; and, this being the
case, she might try to prosecute and persecute and generally bite
pieces out of poor little Gwladys if she knew that it was she who was
driving the car that laid me out. She must never know, Wooster. I
appeal to you as a man of honour to keep your mouth shut."
"Naturally."
"I'm glad you grasp the point so readily, Wooster. You are not the fool
people take you for."
"Who takes me for a fool?"
The Pim raised his eyebrows slightly.
"Don't people?" he said. "Well, well. Anyway, that's settled. Unless
I can think of something better, I shall tell my sister that I was
knocked down by a car which drove on without stopping and I didn't get
its number.
"And now perhaps you had better leave me. The doctor made a point
of quiet and repose. Moreover, I want to go on with this story. The
villain has just dropped a cobra down the heroine's chimney, and I must
be at her side. I'll ring if I want anything."
I headed for the sitting room. I found Jeeves there, staring at the
portrait in rather a marked manner, as if it hurt him.
"Jeeves," I said, "Mr. Pim appears to be a fixture."
"Yes, sir."
"For the nonce, at any rate. And to-morrow we shall have his sister,
Mrs. Slingsby, of Slingsby's Superb Soups, in our midst."
"Yes, sir. I telegraphed to Mrs. Slingsby shortly before four.
Assuming her to have been at her hotel in Paris at the moment of the
telegram's delivery, she will no doubt take a boat early to-morrow
afternoon, reaching Dover--or, should she prefer the alternative route,
Folkestone--in time to arrive in London at about seven. She will
possibly proceed first to her London residence----"
"Yes, Jeeves," I said; "yes. A gripping story, full of action and
human interest. You must have it set to music sometime and sing it.
Meanwhile, get this into your head. It is imperative that Mrs. Slingsby
does not learn that it was Miss Pendlebury who broke her brother in
two places. I shall require you, therefore, to approach Mr. Pim before
she arrives, ascertain exactly what tale he intends to tell, and be
prepared to back it up in every particular."
"Very good, sir."
"And now, Jeeves, what of Miss Pendlebury?"
"Sir?"
"She's sure to call to make inquiries."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, she mustn't find me here. You know all about women, Jeeves?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then tell me this. Am I not right in supposing that if Miss Pendlebury
is in a position to go into the sickroom, take a long look at the
interesting invalid, and then pop out, with the memory of that look
fresh in her mind, and get a square sight of me lounging about in
sponge-bag trousers, she will draw damaging comparisons? You see what
I mean? Look on this picture and on that--the one romantic, the other
not.... Eh?"
"Very true, sir. It's a point which I had intended to bring to your
attention. An invalid undoubtedly exercises a powerful appeal to the
motherliness which exists in every woman's heart, sir. Invalids seem to
stir their deepest feelings. The poet Scott has put the matter neatly
in the lines:
"'O Woman! in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,
When pain and anguish wring the brow----'"