"At some other time, Jeeves," I said, "I shall be delighted to hear
your piece, but just now I am not in the mood. The position being as
I have outlined, I propose to clear out early to-morrow morning and
not to reappear until nightfall. I shall take the car and dash down to
Brighton for the day."
"Very good, sir."
"It is better so, is it not, Jeeves?"
"Indubitably, sir."
"I think so, too. The sea breezes will tone up my system, which sadly
needs a dollop of toning. I leave you in charge of the old home."
"Very good, sir."
"Convey my regrets and sympathy to Miss Pendlebury and tell her I have
been called away on business."
"Yes, sir."
"Should the Slingsby require refreshment, feed her in moderation."
"Very good, sir."
"And in poisoning Mr. Pim's soup, don't use arsenic, which is readily
detected. Go to a good chemist and get something that leaves no
traces." I sighed, and cocked an eye at the portrait. "All this is very
wonky, Jeeves."
"Yes, sir."
"When that portrait was painted I was a happy man."
"Yes, sir."
"Ah, well, Jeeves!"
"Very true, sir."
And we left it at that.
* * * * *
It was latish when I got back on the following evening. What with a bit
of ozone sniffing, a good dinner, and a nice run home in the moonlight
with the old car going as sweet as a nut, I was feeling in pretty good
shape once more. In fact, I went so far as to sing a trifle. The spirit
of the Woosters is a buoyant spirit, and optimism had begun to reign
again in the W. bosom.
The way I looked at it was, I saw I had been mistaken in assuming that
a girl must necessarily love a fellow just because he has a broken leg.
At first, no doubt, Gwladys Pendlebury would feel strangely drawn to
the Pim when she saw him lying there a more or less total loss. But it
would not be long before other reflections crept in.
She would ask herself if she were wise in trusting her life's
happiness to a man who hadn't enough sense to leap out of the way when
he saw a car coming. She would tell herself that if this sort of thing
had happened once who knew that it might not go on happening again and
again all down the long years.
And she would recoil from a married life which consisted entirely of
going to hospitals and taking her husband fruit. She would realize
how much better off she would be teamed up with a fellow like Bertram
Wooster, who, whatever his faults, at least walked on the pavement and
looked up and down a street before he crossed it.
It was in excellent spirits, accordingly, that I put the car in the
garage, and it was with a merry Tra-la on my lips that I let myself
into the flat as Big Ben began to strike eleven. I rang the bell and
presently, as if he had divined my wishes, Jeeves came in with siphon
and decanter.
"Home again, Jeeves," I said.
"Yes, sir."
"What has been happening in my absence? Did Miss Pendlebury call?"
"Yes, sir. At about two o'clock."
"And left?"
"At about six, sir."
I didn't like this so much. A four-hour visit struck me as a bit
sinister.
"And Mrs. Slingsby?"
"She arrived shortly after eight and left at ten, sir."
"Ah? Agitated?"
"Yes, sir. Particularly when she left. She was desirous of seeing you,
sir."
"Wanted to thank me brokenly, I suppose, for so courteously allowing
her favourite brother a place to have his game legs in, eh?"
"Possibly, sir. On the other hand, she alluded to you in terms
suggestive of disapprobation, sir."
"She--what?"
"'Feckless idiot' was one of the expressions she employed, sir."
"'Feckless idiot'?"
"Yes, sir."
I couldn't make it out. I simply couldn't see what the woman had based
her judgment on. My aunt Agatha has frequently said that sort of thing
about me, but she has known me from a boy.
"I must look into this, Jeeves. Is Mr. Pim asleep?"
"No, sir. He rang the bell a moment ago to inquire if we had not a
better brand of cigarette in the flat."
"He did, did he?"
"Yes, sir."
"The accident doesn't seem to have affected his nerve."
"No, sir."
I found Lucius Pim propped up among the pillows, reading his detective
story.
"Ah, Wooster," he said. "Welcome home. I say, in case you were
worrying, it's all right about that cobra. The hero had got at it
without the villain's knowledge and extracted its poison fangs. With
the result that when it fell down the chimney and started trying to
bite the heroine its efforts were null and void. I doubt if a cobra has
ever felt so silly."
"Never mind about cobras."
"It's no good saying, 'Never mind about cobras,'" said Lucius Pim in a
gentle, rebuking sort of voice. "You've jolly well _got_ to mind about
cobras, if they haven't had their poison fangs extracted. Ask anyone.
By the way, my sister looked in. She wants to have a word with you."
"And I want to have a word with her."
"Two minds with but a single thought. What she wants to talk to you
about is this accident of mine. You remember that story I was to tell
her--about the car driving on? Well, the understanding was, if you
recollect, that I was only to tell it if I couldn't think of something
better. Fortunately, I thought of something much better.
"You see, that driving-on story was thin. People don't knock fellows
down and break their legs and go driving on. The thing wouldn't have
held water for a minute. So I told her you did it."
"What!"
"I said it was you who did it in your car. Much more likely. Makes the
whole thing neat and well rounded. I knew you would approve. At all
costs we have got to keep it from her that I was outed by Gwladys.
"I made it as easy for you as I could, saying you were a bit pickled
at the time and so not to be blamed for what you did. Some fellows
wouldn't have thought of that. Still," said Lucius Pim, "I'm afraid
she's none too pleased with you."
"She isn't, isn't she?"
"No, she is not. And I strongly recommend you, if you want anything
like a pleasant interview to-morrow, to sweeten her a bit overnight."
"How do you mean, 'sweeten her'?"
"I'd suggest you send her some flowers. It would be a graceful gesture.
Roses are her favourites. Shoot her in a few roses--Number Three, Hill
Street, is the address--and it may make all the difference. I think it
my duty to inform you, old man, that my sister Beatrice is rather a
tough egg, when roused.
"My brother-in-law is due back from New York at any moment, and the
danger, as I see it, is that Beatrice, unless sweetened, will get at
him and make him bring actions against you for torts and malfeasances
and what not and get thumping damages. He isn't overfond of me and,
left to himself, would rather approve than otherwise of people who
broke my legs; but he's crazy about Beatrice and will do anything she
asks him to.
"So my advice is, Gather ye rosebuds while ye may and bung them in to
Number Three, Hill Street. Otherwise, the case of Slingsby _versus_
Wooster will be on the calendar before you can say What-ho."