'What I can't understand,' I said, 'is how you manage to run that
Herefordshire place of yours for a day. How on earth do you remember to
milk the cows and give the pigs their dinner?'
'Oh, that's all right. There are divers blokes about the
places--hirelings and menials, you know--who look after all that.'
'Ah!' I said. 'Well, that being so, let us have one more Green Swizzle,
and then hey for the Amusement Park.'
* * * * *
When I indulged in those few rather bitter words about exhibitions, it
must be distinctly understood that I was not alluding to what you might
call the more earthy portion of these curious places. I yield to no man
in my approval of those institutions where on payment of a shilling you
are permitted to slide down a slippery runway sitting on a mat. I love
the Jiggle-Joggle, and I am prepared to take on all and sundry at Skee
Ball for money, stamps, or Brazil nuts.
But, joyous reveller as I am on these occasions, I was simply not in
it with old Biffy. Whether it was the Green Swizzles or merely the
relief of being parted from Sir Roderick, I don't know, but Biffy flung
himself into the pastimes of the proletariat with a zest that was
almost frightening. I could hardly drag him away from the Whip, and as
for the Switchback, he looked like spending the rest of his life on it.
I managed to remove him at last, and he was wandering through the crowd
at my side with gleaming eyes, hesitating between having his fortune
told and taking a whirl at the Wheel of Joy, when he suddenly grabbed
my arm and uttered a sharp animal cry.
'Bertie!'
'Now what?'
He was pointing at a large sign over a building.
'Look! Palace of Beauty!'
I tried to choke him off. I was getting a bit weary by this time. Not
so young as I was.
'You don't want to go in there,' I said. 'A fellow at the club was
telling me about that. It's only a lot of girls. You don't want to see
a lot of girls.'
'I do want to see a lot of girls,' said Biffy firmly. 'Dozens of
girls, and the more unlike Honoria they are, the better. Besides,
I've suddenly remembered that that's the place Jeeves told me to be
sure and visit. It all comes back to me. "Mr Biffen," he said, "I
strongly advise you to visit the Palace of Beauty." Now, what the man
was driving at or what his motive was, I don't know; but I ask you,
Bertie, is it wise, is it safe, is it judicious ever to ignore Jeeves's
lightest word? We enter by the door on the left.'
I don't know if you know this Palace of Beauty place? It's a sort of
aquarium full of the delicately nurtured instead of fishes. You go in,
and there is a kind of cage with a female goggling out at you through a
sheet of plate glass. She's dressed in some weird kind of costume, and
over the cage is written 'Helen of Troy'. You pass on to the next, and
there's another one doing jiu-jitsu with a snake. Sub-title, Cleopatra.
You get the idea--Famous Women Through the Ages and all that. I can't
say it fascinated me to any great extent. I maintain that lovely
woman loses a lot of her charm if you have to stare at her in a tank.
Moreover, it gave me a rummy sort of feeling of having wandered into
the wrong bedroom at a country house, and I was flying past at a fair
rate of speed, anxious to get it over, when Biffy suddenly went off his
rocker.
At least, it looked like that. He let out a piercing yell, grabbed my
arm with a sudden clutch that felt like the bite of a crocodile, and
stood there gibbering.
'Wuk!' ejaculated Biffy, or words to that general import.
A large and interested crowd had gathered round. I think they thought
the girls were going to be fed or something. But Biffy paid no
attention to them. He was pointing in a loony manner at one of the
cages. I forget which it was, but the female inside wore a ruff, so it
may have been Queen Elizabeth or Boadicea or someone of that period.
She was rather a nice-looking girl, and she was staring at Biffy in
much the same pop-eyed way as he was staring at her.
'Mabel!' yelled Biffy, going off in my ear like a bomb.
I can't say I was feeling my chirpiest. Drama is all very well, but I
hate getting mixed up in it in a public spot; and I had not realized
before how dashed public this spot was. The crowd seemed to have
doubled itself in the last five seconds, and, while most of them had
their eye on Biffy, quite a goodish few were looking at me as if they
thought I was an important principal in the scene and might be expected
at any moment to give of my best in the way of wholesome entertainment
for the masses.
Biffy was jumping about like a lamb in the springtime--and, what is
more, a feeble-minded lamb.
'Bertie! It's her! It's she!' He looked about him wildly. 'Where the
deuce is the stage-door?' he cried. 'Where's the manager? I want to see
the house-manager immediately.'
And then he suddenly bounded forward and began hammering on the glass
with his stick.
'I say, old lad!' I began, but he shook me off.
These fellows who live in the country are apt to go in for fairly
sizable clubs instead of the light canes which your well-dressed
man about town considers suitable for metropolitan use; and down in
Herefordshire, apparently, something in the nature of a knobkerrie is
_de rigueur_. Biffy's first slosh smashed the glass all to a hash.
Three more cleared the way for him to go into the cage without cutting
himself. And, before the crowd had time to realize what a wonderful
bob's-worth it was getting in exchange for its entrance fee, he was
inside, engaging the girl in earnest conversation. And at the same
moment two large policemen rolled up.
You can't make policemen take the romantic view. Not a tear did these
two blighters stop to brush away. They were inside the cage and out
of it and marching Biffy through the crowd before you had time to
blink. I hurried after them, to do what I could in the way of soothing
Biffy's last moments, and the poor old lad turned a glowing face in my
direction.
'Chiswick, 60873,' he bellowed in a voice charged with emotion. 'Write
it down, Bertie, or I shall forget it. Chiswick, 60873. Her telephone
number.'
And then he disappeared, accompanied by about eleven thousand
sightseers, and a voice spoke at my elbow.
'Mr Wooster! What--what--what is the meaning of this?'
Sir Roderick, with bigger eyebrows than ever, was standing at my side.
'It's all right,' I said. 'Poor old Biffy's only gone off his crumpet.'
He tottered.
'What?'
'Had a sort of fit or seizure, you know.'
'Another!' Sir Roderick drew a deep breath. 'And this is the man I was
about to allow my daughter to marry!' I heard him mutter.
I tapped him in a kindly spirit on the shoulder. It took some doing,
mark you, but I did it.
'If I were you,' I said, 'I should call that off. Scratch the fixture.
Wash it out absolutely, is my advice.'
He gave me a nasty look.
'I do not require your advice, Mr Wooster! I had already arrived
independently at the decision of which you speak. Mr Wooster, you are a
friend of this man--a fact which should in itself have been sufficient
warning to me. You will--unlike myself--be seeing him again. Kindly
inform him, when you do see him, that he may consider his engagement at
an end.'
'Right-ho,' I said, and hurried off after the crowd. It seemed to me
that a little bailing-out might be in order.
* * * * *
It was about an hour later that I shoved my way out to where I had
parked the car. Jeeves was sitting in the front seat, brooding over the
cosmos. He rose courteously as I approached.
'You are leaving, sir?'
'I am.'
'And Sir Roderick, sir?'
'Not coming. I am revealing no secrets, Jeeves, when I inform you that
he and I have parted brass rags. Not on speaking terms now.'
'Indeed, sir? And Mr Biffen? Will you wait for him?'
'No. He's in prison.'
'Really, sir?'
'Yes. I tried to bail him out, but they decided on second thoughts to
coop him up for the night.'
'What was his offence, sir?'
'You remember that girl of his I was telling you about? He found her
in a tank at the Palace of Beauty and went after her by the quickest
route, which was via a plate-glass window. He was then scooped up and
borne off in irons by the constabulary.' I gazed sideways at him. It
is difficult to bring off a penetrating glance out of the corner of
your eye, but I managed it. 'Jeeves,' I said, 'there is more in this
than the casual observer would suppose. You told Mr Biffen to go to the
Palace of Beauty. Did you know the girl would be there?'
'Yes, sir.'
This was most remarkable and rummy to a degree.
'Dash it, do you know everything?'
'Oh, no, sir,' said Jeeves with an indulgent smile. Humouring the young
master.
'Well, how did you know that?'
'I happen to be acquainted with the future Mrs Biffen, sir.'
'I see. Then you knew all about that business in New York?'
'Yes, sir. And it was for that reason that I was not altogether
favourably disposed towards Mr Biffen when you were first kind enough
to suggest that I might be able to offer some slight assistance.
I mistakenly supposed that he had been trifling with the girl's
affections, sir. But when you told me the true facts of the case I
appreciated the injustice I had done to Mr Biffen and endeavoured to
make amends.'
'Well, he certainly owes you a lot. He's crazy about her.'
'That is very gratifying, sir.'
'And she ought to be pretty grateful to you, too. Old Biffy's got
fifteen thousand a year, not to mention more cows, pigs, hens, and
ducks than he knows what to do with. A dashed useful bird to have in
any family.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Tell me, Jeeves,' I said, 'how did you happen to know the girl in the
first place?'
Jeeves looked dreamily out into the traffic.
'She is my niece, sir. If I might make the suggestion, sir, I should
not jerk the steering wheel with quite such suddenness. We very nearly
collided with that omnibus.'