'Biffy, old egg,' I said, 'as man to man, do you want to oil out of
this thing?'
'Bertie, old cork,' said Biffy earnestly, 'as one friend to another, I
do.'
'Then why the dickens did you ever get into it?'
'I don't know. Why did you?'
'I--well, it sort of happened.'
'And it sort of happened with me. You know how it is when your heart's
broken. A kind of lethargy comes over you. You get absent-minded and
cease to exercise proper precautions, and the first thing you know
you're for it. I don't know how it happened, old man, but there it is.
And what I want you to tell me is, what's the procedure?'
'You mean, how does a fellow edge out?'
'Exactly. I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings, Bertie, but I can't
go through with this thing. The shot is not on the board. For about a
day and a half I thought it might be all right, but now--You remember
that laugh of hers?'
'I do.'
'Well, there's that, and then all this business of never letting a
fellow alone--improving his mind and so forth--'
'I know. I know.'
'Very well, then. What do you recommend? What did you mean when you
said that Jeeves worked a scheme?'
'Well, you see, old Sir Roderick, who's a loony-doctor and nothing
but a loony-doctor, however much you may call him a nerve specialist,
discovered that there was a modicum of insanity in my family. Nothing
serious. Just one of my uncles. Used to keep rabbits in his bedroom.
And the old boy came to lunch here to give me the once-over, and Jeeves
arranged matters so that he went away firmly convinced that I was off
my onion.'
'I see,' said Biffy thoughtfully. 'The trouble is there isn't any
insanity in my family.'
'None?'
It seemed to me almost incredible that a fellow could be such a perfect
chump as dear old Biffy without a bit of assistance.
'Not a loony on the list,' he said gloomily. 'It's just like my luck.
The old boy's coming to lunch with me tomorrow, no doubt to test me as
he did you. And I never felt saner in my life.'
I thought for a moment. The idea of meeting Sir Roderick again gave me
a cold shivery feeling; but when there is a chance of helping a pal we
Woosters have no thought of self.
'Look here, Biffy,' I said, 'I'll tell you what. I'll roll up for that
lunch. It may easily happen that when he finds you are a pal of mine he
will forbid the banns right away and no more questions asked.'
'Something in that,' said Biffy, brightening. 'Awfully sporting of you,
Bertie.'
'Oh, not at all,' I said. 'And meanwhile I'll consult Jeeves. Put the
whole thing up to him and ask his advice. He's never failed me yet.'
Biffy pushed off, a good deal braced, and I went into the kitchen.
'Jeeves,' I said, 'I want your help once more. I've just been having a
painful interview with Mr Biffen.'
'Indeed, sir?'
'It's like this,' I said, and told him the whole thing.
It was rummy, but I could feel him freezing from the start. As a rule,
when I call Jeeves into conference on one of these little problems,
he's all sympathy and bright ideas; but not today.
'I fear, sir,' he said, when I had finished, 'it is hardly my place to
intervene in a private matter affecting--'
'Oh come!'
'No, sir. It would be taking a liberty.'
'Jeeves,' I said, tackling the blighter squarely, 'what have you got
against old Biffy?'
'I, sir?'
'Yes, you.'
'I assure you, sir!'
'Oh, well, if you don't want to chip in and save a fellow-creature, I
suppose I can't make you. But let me tell you this. I am now going back
to the sitting-room, and I am going to put in some very tense thinking.
You'll look pretty silly when I come and tell you that I've got Mr
Biffen out of the soup without your assistance. Extremely silly you'll
look.'
'Yes, sir. Shall I bring you a whisky-and-soda, sir?'
'No. Coffee! Strong and black. And if anybody wants to see me, tell 'em
that I'm busy and can't be disturbed.'
An hour later I rang the bell.
'Jeeves,' I said with hauteur.
'Yes, sir?'
'Kindly ring Mr Biffen up on the phone and say that Mr Wooster presents
his compliments and that he has got it.'
* * * * *
I was feeling more than a little pleased with myself next morning
as I strolled round to Biffy's. As a rule the bright ideas you get
overnight have a trick of not seeming quite so frightfully fruity when
you examine them by the light of day; but this one looked as good at
breakfast as it had done before dinner. I examined it narrowly from
every angle, and I didn't see how it could fail.
A few days before, my Aunt Emily's son Harold had celebrated his sixth
birthday; and, being up against the necessity of weighing in with a
present of some kind, I had happened to see in a shop in the Strand a
rather sprightly little gadget, well calculated in my opinion to amuse
the child and endear him to one and all. It was a bunch of flowers in
a sort of holder ending in an ingenious bulb attachment which, when
pressed, shot about a pint and a half of pure spring water into the
face of anyone who was ass enough to sniff at it. It seemed to me just
the thing to please the growing mind of a kid of six, and I had rolled
round with it.
But when I got to the house I found Harold sitting in the midst of a
mass of gifts so luxurious and costly that I simply hadn't the crust to
contribute a thing that had set me back a mere elevenpence-ha'penny;
so with rare presence of mind--for we Woosters can think quick on
occasion--I wrenched my Uncle James's card off a toy aeroplane,
substituted my own, and trousered the squirt, which I took away with
me. It had been lying around in my flat ever since, and it seemed to me
that the time had come to send it into action.
'Well?' said Biffy anxiously, as I curveted into his sitting-room.
The poor old bird was looking pretty green about the gills. I
recognized the symptoms. I had felt much the same myself when waiting
for Sir Roderick to turn up and lunch with me. How the deuce people
who have anything wrong with their nerves can bring themselves to chat
with that man, I can't imagine; and yet he has the largest practice in
London. Scarcely a day passes without his having to sit on somebody's
head and ring for the attendant to bring the strait-waistcoat; and his
outlook on life has become so jaundiced through constant association
with coves who are picking straws out of their hair that I was
convinced that Biffy had merely got to press the bulb and nature would
do the rest.