'Payable in advance?'
'No, sir. I endeavoured to obtain payment in advance, but was not
successful.'
'Well, anyway, when we get it I'll make it up to five hundred. Bicky'll
never know. Do you suppose Mr Bickersteth would suspect anything,
Jeeves, if I made it up to five hundred?'
'I fancy not, sir. Mr Bickersteth is an agreeable gentleman, but not
bright.'
'All right, then. After breakfast run down to the bank and get me some
money.'
'Yes, sir.'
'You know, you're a bit of a marvel, Jeeves.'
'Thank you, sir.'
'Right-ho!'
'Very good, sir.'
When I took dear old Bicky aside in the course of the morning and
told him what had happened he nearly broke down. He tottered into the
sitting-room and buttonholed old Chiswick, who was reading the comic
section of the morning paper with a kind of grim resolution.
'Uncle,' he said, 'are you doing anything special tomorrow afternoon?
I mean to say, I've asked a few of my pals in to meet you, don't you
know.'
The old boy cocked a speculative eye at him.
'There will be no reporters among them?'
'Reporters? Rather not. Why?'
'I refuse to be badgered by reporters. There were a number of adhesive
young men who endeavoured to elicit from me my views on America while
the boat was approaching the dock. I will not be subjected to this
persecution again.'
'That'll be absolutely all right, uncle. There won't be a newspaper man
in the place.'
'In that case I shall be glad to make the acquaintance of your
friends.'
'You'll shake hands with them, and so forth?'
'I shall naturally order my behaviour according to the accepted rules
of civilized intercourse.'
Bicky thanked him heartily and came off to lunch with me at the club,
where he babbled freely of hens, incubators, and other rotten things.
* * * * *
After mature consideration we had decided to unleash the Birdsburg
contingent on the old boy ten at a time. Jeeves brought his theatre
pal round to see us, and we arranged the whole thing with him. A very
decent chappie, but rather inclined to collar the conversation and
turn it in the direction of his home-town's new water-supply system.
We settled that, as an hour was about all he would be likely to stand,
each gang should consider itself entitled to seven minutes of the
duke's society by Jeeves's stop-watch, and that when their time was up
Jeeves should slide into the room and cough meaningly. Then we parted
with what I believe are called mutual expressions of goodwill, the
Birdsburg chappie extending a cordial invitation to us all to pop out
some day and take a look at the new water-supply system, for which we
thanked him.
Next day the deputation rolled in. The first shift consisted of the
cove we had met and nine others almost exactly like him in every
respect. They all looked deuced keen and business-like, as if from
youth up they had been working in the office and catching the boss's
eye and what-not. They shook hands with the old boy with a good deal
of apparent satisfaction--all except one chappie, who seemed to be
brooding about something--and then they stood off and became chatty.
'What message have you for Birdsburg, duke?' asked our pal.
The old boy seemed a bit rattled.
'I have never been to Birdsburg.'
The chappie seemed pained.
'You should pay it a visit,' he said. 'The most rapidly growing city in
the country. Boost for Birdsburg!'
'Boost for Birdsburg!' said the other chappies reverently.
The chappie who had been brooding suddenly gave tongue.
'Say!'
He was a stout sort of well-fed cove with one of those determined chins
and a cold eye.
The assemblage looked at him.
'As a matter of business,' said the chappie--'mind you, I'm not
questioning anybody's good faith, but, as a matter of strict
business--I think this gentleman here ought to put himself on record
before witnesses as stating that he really is a duke.'
'What do you mean, sir?' cried the old boy, getting purple.
'No offence, simply business. I'm not saying anything, mind you, but
there's one thing that seems kind of funny to me. This gentleman here
says his name's Mr Bickersteth, as I understand it. Well, if you're the
Duke of Chiswick, why isn't he Lord Percy Something? I've read English
novels, and I know all about it.'
'This is monstrous!'
'Now don't get hot under the collar. I'm only asking. I've a right to
know. You're going to take our money, so it's only fair that we should
see that we get our money's worth.'
The water-supply cove chipped in:
'You're quite right, Simms. I overlooked that when making the
agreement. You see, gentlemen, as business men we've a right to
reasonable guarantees of good faith. We are paying Mr Bickersteth here
a hundred and fifty dollars for this reception, and we naturally want
to know--'
Old Chiswick gave Bicky a searching look; then he turned to the
water-supply chappie. He was frightfully calm.
'I can assure you that I know nothing of this,' he said quite politely.
'I should be grateful if you would explain.'
'Well, we arranged with Mr Bickersteth that eighty-seven citizens
of Birdsburg should have the privilege of meeting and shaking hands
with you for a financial consideration mutually arranged, and what my
friend Simms here means--and I'm with him--is that we have only Mr
Bickersteth's word for it--and he is a stranger to us--that you are the
Duke of Chiswick at all.'
Old Chiswick gulped.
'Allow me to assure you, sir,' he said in a rummy kind of voice, 'that
I am the Duke of Chiswick.'
'Then that's all right,' said the chappie heartily. 'That was all we
wanted to know. Let the thing go on.'
'I am sorry to say,' said old Chiswick, 'that it cannot go on. I am
feeling a little tired. I fear I must ask to be excused.'
'But there are seventy-seven of the boys waiting round the corner at
this moment, duke, to be introduced to you.'
'I fear I must disappoint them.'
'But in that case the deal would have to be off.'
'That is a matter for you and my nephew to discuss.'
The chappie seemed troubled.
'You really won't meet the rest of them?'
'No!'
'Well, then, I guess we'll be going.'
They went out, and there was a pretty solid silence. Then old Chiswick
turned to Bicky:
'Well?'
Bicky didn't seem to have anything to say.
'Was it true what that man said?'
'Yes, uncle.'
'What do you mean by playing this trick?'
Bicky seemed pretty well knocked out, so I put in a word: 'I think
you'd better explain the whole thing, Bicky, old top.'
Bicky's adam's apple jumped about a bit; then he started.
'You see, you had cut off my allowance, uncle, and I wanted a bit of
money to start a chicken farm. I mean to say it's an absolute cert if
you once get a bit of capital. You buy a hen, and it lays an egg every
day of the week, and you sell the egg, say, seven for twenty-five
cents. Keep of hen costs nothing. Profit practically--'
'What is all this nonsense about hens? You led me to suppose you were a
substantial business man.'
'Old Bicky rather exaggerated, sir,' I said, helping the chappie
out. 'The fact is, the poor old lad is absolutely dependent on that
remittance of yours, and when you cut it off, don't you know, he was
pretty solidly in the soup, and had to think of some way of closing
in on a bit of the ready pretty quick. That's why we thought of this
hand-shaking scheme.'
Old Chiswick foamed at the mouth.
'So you have lied to me! You have deliberately deceived me as to your
financial status!'
'Poor old Bicky didn't want to go to that ranch,' I explained. 'He
doesn't like cows and horses, but he rather thinks he would be hot
stuff among the hens. All he wants is a bit of capital. Don't you think
it would be rather a wheeze if you were to--'
'After what has happened? After this--this deceit and foolery? Not a
penny!'
'But--'
'Not a penny!'
There was a respectful cough in the background.
'If I might make a suggestion, sir?'
Jeeves was standing on the horizon, looking devilish brainy.
'Go ahead, Jeeves!' I said.
'I would merely suggest, sir, that if Mr Bickersteth is in need of
a little ready money, and is at a loss to obtain it elsewhere he
might secure the sum he requires by describing the occurrences of
this afternoon for the Sunday issue of one of the more spirited and
enterprising newspapers.'
'By Jove!' I said.
'By George!' said Bicky.
'Great heavens!' said old Chiswick.
'Very good, sir,' said Jeeves.
Bicky turned to old Chiswick with a gleaming eye.
'Jeeves is right! I'll do it! The _Chronicle_ would jump at it. They
eat that sort of stuff.'
Old Chiswick gave a kind of moaning howl.
'I absolutely forbid you, Francis, to do this thing!'
'That's all very well,' said Bicky, wonderfully braced, 'but if I can't
get the money any other way--'
'Wait! Er--wait, my boy! You are so impetuous! We might arrange
something.'
'I won't go to that bally ranch.'
'No, no! No, no, my boy! I would not suggest it. I would not for a
moment suggest it. I--I think--' He seemed to have a bit of a struggle
with himself. 'I--I think that, on the whole it would be best if you
returned with me to England. I--I might--in fact, I think I see my
way to doing--to--I might be able to utilize your services in some
secretarial position.'
'I shouldn't mind that.'
'I should not be able to offer you a salary, but, as you know, in
English political life the unpaid secretary is a recognized figure--'
'The only figure I'll recognize,' said Bicky firmly, 'is five hundred
quid a year, paid quarterly.'
'My dear boy!'
'Absolutely!'
'But your recompense, my dear Francis, would consist in the unrivalled
opportunities you would have, as my secretary, to gain experience, to
accustom yourself to the intricacies of political life, to--in fact,
you would be in an exceedingly advantageous position.'
'Five hundred a year!' said Bicky, rolling it round his tongue. 'Why,
that would be nothing to what I could make if I started a chicken farm.
It stands to reason. Suppose you have a dozen hens. Each of the hens
has a dozen chickens. After a bit the chickens grow up and have a dozen
chickens each themselves, and then they all start laying eggs! There's
a fortune in it. You can get anything you like for eggs in America.
Fellows keep them on ice for years and years, and don't sell them
till they fetch about a dollar a whirl. You don't think I'm going to
chuck a future like this for anything under five hundred o' goblins a
year--what?'
A look of anguish passed over old Chiswick's face, then he seemed to be
resigned to it. 'Very well, my boy,' he said.
'What ho!' said Bicky. 'All right, then.'
* * * * *
'Jeeves,' I said. Bicky had taken the old boy off to dinner to
celebrate, and we were alone. 'Jeeves, this has been one of your best
efforts.'
'Thank you, sir.'
'It beats me how you do it.'
'Yes, sir?'
'The only trouble is you haven't got much out of it yourself.'
'I fancy Mr Bickersteth intends--I judge from his remarks--to signify
his appreciation of anything I have been fortunate enough to do to
assist him, at some later date when he is in a more favourable position
to do so.'
'It isn't enough, Jeeves!'
'Sir?'
It was a wrench, but I felt it was the only possible thing to be done.
'Bring my shaving things.'
A gleam of hope shone in the man's eye, mixed with doubt.
'You mean, sir?'
'And shave off my moustache.'
There was a moment's silence. I could see the fellow was deeply moved.
'Thank you very much indeed, sir,' he said, in a low voice.