SIR RODERICK COMES TO LUNCH
I had met Sir Roderick Glossop before, of course, but only when I
was with Honoria; and there is something about Honoria which makes
almost anybody you meet in the same room seem sort of under-sized and
trivial by comparison. I had never realised till this moment what an
extraordinarily formidable old bird he was. He had a pair of shaggy
eyebrows which gave his eyes a piercing look which was not at all the
sort of thing a fellow wanted to encounter on an empty stomach. He was
fairly tall and fairly broad, and he had the most enormous head, with
practically no hair on it, which made it seem bigger and much more like
the dome of St. Paul’s. I suppose he must have taken about a nine or
something in hats. Shows what a rotten thing it is to let your brain
develop too much.
“What ho! What ho! What ho!” I said, trying to strike the genial note,
and then had a sudden feeling that that was just the sort of thing I
had been warned not to say. Dashed difficult it is to start things
going properly on an occasion like this. A fellow living in a London
flat is so handicapped. I mean to say, if I had been the young squire
greeting the visitor in the country, I could have said, “Welcome to
Meadowsweet Hall!” or something zippy like that. It sounds silly to say
“Welcome to Number 6A, Crichton Mansions, Berkeley Street, W.”
“I am afraid I am a little late,” he said, as we sat down. “I
was detained at my club by Lord Alastair Hungerford, the Duke of
Ramfurline’s son. His Grace, he informed me, had exhibited a renewal
of the symptoms which have been causing the family so much concern. I
could not leave him immediately. Hence my unpunctuality, which I trust
has not discommoded you.”
“Oh, not at all. So the Duke is off his rocker, what?”
“The expression which you use is not precisely the one I should have
employed myself with reference to the head of perhaps the noblest
family in England, but there is no doubt that cerebral excitement does,
as you suggest, exist in no small degree.” He sighed as well as he
could with his mouth full of cutlet. “A profession like mine is a great
strain, a great strain.”
“Must be.”
“Sometimes I am appalled at what I see around me.” He stopped suddenly
and sort of stiffened. “Do you keep a cat, Mr. Wooster?”
“Eh? What? Cat? No, no cat.”
“I was conscious of a distinct impression that I had heard a cat mewing
either in the room or very near to where we are sitting.”
“Probably a taxi or something in the street.”
“I fear I do not follow you.”
“I mean to say, taxis squawk, you know. Rather like cats in a sort of
way.”
“I had not observed the resemblance,” he said, rather coldly.
“Have some lemon-squash,” I said. The conversation seemed to be getting
rather difficult.
“Thank you. Half a glassful, if I may.” The hell-brew appeared to buck
him up, for he resumed in a slightly more pally manner. “I have a
particular dislike for cats. But I was saying---- Oh, yes. Sometimes
I am positively appalled at what I see around me. It is not only the
cases which come under my professional notice, painful as many of those
are. It is what I see as I go about London. Sometimes it seems to me
that the whole world is mentally unbalanced. This very morning, for
example, a most singular and distressing occurrence took place as I
was driving from my house to the club. The day being clement, I had
instructed my chauffeur to open my landaulette, and I was leaning back,
deriving no little pleasure from the sunshine, when our progress was
arrested in the middle of the thoroughfare by one of those blocks in
the traffic which are inevitable in so congested a system as that of
London.”
I suppose I had been letting my mind wander a bit, for when he stopped
and took a sip of lemon-squash I had a feeling that I was listening to
a lecture and was expected to say something.
“Hear, hear!” I said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing, nothing. You were saying----”
“The vehicles proceeding in the opposite direction had also been
temporarily arrested, but after a moment they were permitted to
proceed. I had fallen into a meditation, when suddenly the most
extraordinary thing took place. My hat was snatched abruptly from my
head! And as I looked back I perceived it being waved in a kind of
feverish triumph from the interior of a taxicab, which, even as I
looked, disappeared through a gap in the traffic and was lost to sight.”
I didn’t laugh, but I distinctly heard a couple of my floating ribs
part from their moorings under the strain.
“Must have been meant for a practical joke,” I said. “What?”
This suggestion didn’t seem to please the old boy.
“I trust,” he said, “I am not deficient in an appreciation of the
humorous, but I confess that I am at a loss to detect anything akin
to pleasantry in the outrage. The action was beyond all question that
of a mentally unbalanced subject. These mental lesions may express
themselves in almost any form. The Duke of Ramfurline, to whom I had
occasion to allude just now, is under the impression--this is in the
strictest confidence--that he is a canary; and his seizure to-day,
which so perturbed Lord Alastair, was due to the fact that a careless
footman had neglected to bring him his morning lump of sugar. Cases are
common, again, of men waylaying women and cutting off portions of their
hair. It is from a branch of this latter form of mania that I should be
disposed to imagine that my assailant was suffering. I can only trust
that he will be placed under proper control before he---- Mr. Wooster,
there is a cat close at hand! It is _not_ in the street! The mewing
appears to come from the adjoining room.”
* * * * *
This time I had to admit there was no doubt about it. There was a
distinct sound of mewing coming from the next room. I punched the bell
for Jeeves, who drifted in and stood waiting with an air of respectful
devotion.
“Sir?”
“Oh, Jeeves,” I said. “Cats! What about it? Are there any cats in the
flat?”
“Only the three in your bedroom, sir.”
“What!”
“Cats in his bedroom!” I heard Sir Roderick whisper in a kind of
stricken way, and his eyes hit me amidships like a couple of bullets.
“What do you mean,” I said, “only the three in my bedroom?”
“The black one, the tabby and the small lemon-coloured animal, sir.”
“What on earth?----”
I charged round the table in the direction of the door. Unfortunately,
Sir Roderick had just decided to edge in that direction himself, with
the result that we collided in the doorway with a good deal of force,
and staggered out into the hall together. He came smartly out of the
clinch and grabbed an umbrella from the rack.
“Stand back!” he shouted, waving it overhead. “Stand back, sir! I am
armed!”
It seemed to me that the moment had come to be soothing.
“Awfully sorry I barged into you,” I said. “Wouldn’t have had it happen
for worlds. I was just dashing out to have a look into things.”
He appeared a trifle reassured, and lowered the umbrella. But just then
the most frightful shindy started in the bedroom. It sounded as though
all the cats in London, assisted by delegates from outlying suburbs,
had got together to settle their differences once for all. A sort of
augmented orchestra of cats.
“This noise is unendurable,” yelled Sir Roderick. “I cannot hear myself
speak.”
“I fancy, sir,” said Jeeves respectfully, “that the animals may have
become somewhat exhilarated as the result of having discovered the fish
under Mr. Wooster’s bed.”
The old boy tottered.
“Fish! Did I hear you rightly?”
“Sir?”
“Did you say that there was a fish under Mr. Wooster’s bed?”
“Yes, sir.”
Sir Roderick gave a low moan, and reached for his hat and stick.
“You aren’t going?” I said.
“Mr. Wooster, I _am_ going! I prefer to spend my leisure time in less
eccentric society.”
“But I say. Here, I must come with you. I’m sure the whole business can
be explained. Jeeves, my hat.”
Jeeves rallied round. I took the hat from him and shoved it on my head.
“Good heavens!”
Beastly shock it was! The bally thing had absolutely engulfed me, if
you know what I mean. Even as I was putting it on I got a sort of
impression that it was a trifle roomy; and no sooner had I let go of it
than it settled down over my ears like a kind of extinguisher.
“I say! This isn’t my hat!”
“It is _my_ hat!” said Sir Roderick in about the coldest, nastiest
voice I’d ever heard. “The hat which was stolen from me this morning as
I drove in my car.”
“But----”
I suppose Napoleon or somebody like that would have been equal to the
situation, but I’m bound to say it was too much for me. I just stood
there goggling in a sort of coma, while the old boy lifted the hat off
me and turned to Jeeves.
“I should be glad, my man,” he said, “if you would accompany me a few
yards down the street. I wish to ask you some questions.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Here, but, I say----!” I began, but he left me standing. He stalked
out, followed by Jeeves. And at that moment the row in the bedroom
started again, louder than ever.
I was about fed up with the whole thing. I mean, cats in your
bedroom--a bit thick, what? I didn’t know how the dickens they had
got in, but I was jolly well resolved that they weren’t going to stay
picknicking there any longer. I flung open the door. I got a momentary
flash of about a hundred and fifteen cats of all sizes and colours
scrapping in the middle of the room, and then they all shot past me
with a rush and out of the front door; and all that was left of the
mob-scene was the head of a whacking big fish, lying on the carpet and
staring up at me in a rather austere sort of way, as if it wanted a
written explanation and apology.
There was something about the thing’s expression that absolutely
chilled me, and I withdrew on tiptoe and shut the door. And, as I did
so, I bumped into someone.
“Oh, sorry!” he said.
I spun round. It was the pink-faced chappie, Lord Something or other,
the fellow I had met with Claude and Eustace.
“I say,” he said apologetically, “awfully sorry to bother you, but
those weren’t my cats I met just now legging it downstairs, were they?
They looked like my cats.”
“They came out of my bedroom.”
“Then they _were_ my cats!” he said sadly. “Oh, dash it!”
“Did you put cats in my bedroom?”
“Your man, what’s-his-name, did. He rather decently said I could keep
them there till my train went. I’d just come to fetch them. And now
they’ve gone! Oh, well, it can’t be helped, I suppose. I’ll take the
hat and the fish, anyway.”
I was beginning to dislike this chappie.
“Did you put that bally fish there, too?”
“No, that was Eustace’s. The hat was Claude’s.”
I sank limply into a chair.
“I say, you couldn’t explain this, could you?” I said. The chappie
gazed at me in mild surprise.
“Why, don’t you know all about it? I say!” He blushed profusely. “Why,
if you don’t know about it, I shouldn’t wonder if the whole thing
didn’t seem rummy to you.”
“Rummy is the word.”
“It was for The Seekers, you know.”
“The Seekers?”
“Rather a blood club, you know, up at Oxford, which your cousins and
I are rather keen on getting into. You have to pinch something, you
know, to get elected. Some sort of a souvenir, you know. A policeman’s
helmet, you know, or a door-knocker or something, you know. The room’s
decorated with the things at the annual dinner, and everybody makes
speeches and all that sort of thing. Rather jolly! Well, we wanted
rather to make a sort of special effort and do the thing in style, if
you understand, so we came up to London to see if we couldn’t pick up
something here that would be a bit out of the ordinary. And we had the
most amazing luck right from the start. Your cousin Claude managed
to collect a quite decent top-hat out of a passing car, and your
cousin Eustace got away with a really goodish salmon or something from
Harrods, and I snaffled three excellent cats all in the first hour. We
were fearfully braced, I can tell you. And then the difficulty was to
know where to park the things till our train went. You look so beastly
conspicuous, you know, tooling about London with a fish and a lot of
cats. And then Eustace remembered you, and we all came on here in a
cab. You were out, but your man said it would be all right. When we met
you, you were in such a hurry that we hadn’t time to explain. Well, I
think I’ll be taking the hat, if you don’t mind.”
“It’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“The fellow you pinched it from happened to be the man who was lunching
here. He took it away with him.”
“Oh, I say! Poor old Claude will be upset. Well, how about the goodish
salmon or something?”
“Would you care to view the remains?” He seemed all broken up when he
saw the wreckage.
“I doubt if the committee would accept that,” he said sadly. “There
isn’t a frightful lot of it left, what?”
“The cats ate the rest.”
He sighed deeply.
“No cats, no fish, no hat. We’ve had all our trouble for nothing. I do
call that hard! And on top of that--I say, I hate to ask you, but you
couldn’t lend me a tenner, could you?”
“A tenner? What for?”
“Well, the fact is, I’ve got to pop round and bail Claude and Eustace
out. They’ve been arrested.”
“Arrested!”
“Yes. You see, what with the excitement of collaring the hat and the
salmon or something, added to the fact that we had rather a festive
lunch, they got a bit above themselves, poor chaps, and tried to pinch
a motor-lorry. Silly, of course, because I don’t see how they could
have got the thing to Oxford and shown it to the committee. Still,
there wasn’t any reasoning with them, and when the driver started
making a fuss, there was a bit of a mix-up, and Claude and Eustace are
more or less languishing in Vine Street police-station till I pop
round and bail them out. So if you could manage a tenner--Oh, thanks,
that’s fearfully good of you. It would have been too bad to leave
them there, what? I mean, they’re both such frightfully good chaps,
you know. Everybody likes them up at the ’Varsity. They’re fearfully
popular.”
“I bet they are!” I said.
* * * * *
When Jeeves came back, I was waiting for him on the mat. I wanted
speech with the blighter.
“Well?” I said.
“Sir Roderick asked me a number of questions, sir, respecting your
habits and mode of life, to which I replied guardedly.”
“I don’t care about that. What I want to know is why you didn’t explain
the whole thing to him right at the start? A word from you would have
put everything clear.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now he’s gone off thinking me a looney.”
“I should not be surprised, from his conversation with me, sir, if some
such idea had not entered his head.”
I was just starting in to speak, when the telephone bell rang. Jeeves
answered it.
“No, madam, Mr. Wooster is not in. No, madam, I do not know when he
will return, No, madam, he left no message. Yes, madam, I will inform
him.” He put back the receiver. “Mrs. Gregson, sir.”
Aunt Agatha! I had been expecting it. Ever since the luncheon-party had
blown out a fuse, her shadow had been hanging over me, so to speak.
“Does she know? Already?”
“I gather that Sir Roderick has been speaking to her on the telephone,
sir, and----”
“No wedding bells for me, what?”
Jeeves coughed.
“Mrs. Gregson did not actually confide in me, sir, but I fancy that
some such thing may have occurred. She seemed decidedly agitated, sir.”
It’s a rummy thing, but I’d been so snootered by the old boy and the
cats and the fish and the hat and the pink-faced chappie and all the
rest of it that the bright side simply hadn’t occurred to me till now.
By Jove, it was like a bally weight rolling off my chest! I gave a yelp
of pure relief.
“Jeeves!” I said, “I believe you worked the whole thing!”
“Sir?”
“I believe you had the jolly old situation in hand right from the
start.”
“Well, sir, Spenser, Mrs. Gregson’s butler, who inadvertently chanced
to overhear something of your conversation when you were lunching at
the house, did mention certain of the details to me; and I confess
that, though it may be a liberty to say so, I entertained hopes that
something might occur to prevent the match. I doubt if the young lady
was entirely suitable to you, sir.”
“And she would have shot you out on your ear five minutes after the
ceremony.”
“Yes, sir. Spenser informed me that she had expressed some such
intention. Mrs. Gregson wishes you to call upon her immediately, sir.”
“She does, eh? What do you advise, Jeeves?”
“I think a trip abroad might prove enjoyable, sir.”
I shook my head. “She’d come after me.”
“Not if you went far enough afield, sir. There are excellent boats
leaving every Wednesday and Saturday for New York.”
“Jeeves,” I said, “you are right, as always. Book the tickets.”