'To start with then, Jeeves, you may or may not know that Mr Sipperley
is practically dependent on his Aunt Vera.'
'Would that be Miss Sipperley of the Paddock, Beckley-on-the-Moor, in
Yorkshire, sir?'
'Yes. Don't tell me you know her!'
'Not personally, sir. But I have a cousin residing in the village who
has some slight acquaintance with Miss Sipperley. He has described her
to me as an imperious and quick-tempered old lady.... But I beg your
pardon, sir, I should have nodded.'
'Quite right, you should have nodded. Yes, Jeeves, you should have
nodded. But it's too late now.'
I nodded myself. I hadn't had my eight hours the night before, and what
you might call a lethargy was showing a tendency to steal over me from
time to time.
'Yes, sir?' said Jeeves.
'Oh--ah--yes,' I said, giving myself a bit of a hitch up. 'Where had I
got to?'
'You were saying that Mr Sipperley is practically dependent upon Miss
Sipperley, sir.'
'Was I?'
'You were, sir.'
'You're perfectly right; so I was. Well, then, you can readily
understand, Jeeves, that he has got to take jolly good care to keep in
with her. You get that?'
Jeeves nodded.
'Now mark this closely: The other day she wrote to old Sippy, telling
him to come down and sing at her village concert. It was equivalent to
a royal command, if you see what I mean, so Sippy couldn't refuse in so
many words. But he had sung at her village concert once before and had
got the bird in no uncertain manner, so he wasn't playing any return
dates. You follow so far, Jeeves?'
Jeeves nodded.
'So what did he do, Jeeves? He did what seemed to him at the moment
a rather brainy thing. He told her that, though he would have been
delighted to sing at her village concert, by a most unfortunate chance
an editor had commissioned him to write a series of articles on the
colleges of Cambridge and he was obliged to pop down there at once and
would be away for quite three weeks. All clear up to now?'
Jeeves inclined the coco-nut.
'Whereupon, Jeeves, Miss Sipperley wrote back, saying that she quite
realized that work must come before pleasure--pleasure being her loose
way of describing the act of singing songs at the Beckley-on-the-Moor
concert and getting the laugh from the local toughs; but that, if he
was going to Cambridge, he must certainly stay with her friends, the
Pringles, at their house just outside the town. And she dropped them a
line telling them to expect him on the twenty-eighth, and they dropped
another line saying right-ho, and the thing was settled. And now Mr
Sipperley is in the jug, and what will be the ultimate outcome or
upshot? Jeeves, it is a problem worthy of your great intellect. I rely
on you.'
'I will do my best to justify your confidence, sir.'
'Carry on, then. And meanwhile pull down the blinds and bring a couple
more cushions and heave that small chair this way so that I can put my
feet up, and then go away and brood and let me hear from you in--say, a
couple of hours, or maybe three. And if anybody calls and wants to see
me, inform them that I am dead.'
'Dead, sir?'
'Dead. You won't be so far wrong.'
It must have been well towards evening when I woke up with a crick in
my neck but otherwise somewhat refreshed. I pressed the bell.
'I looked in twice, sir,' said Jeeves, 'but on each occasion you were
asleep and I did not like to disturb you.'
'The right spirit, Jeeves.... Well?'
'I have been giving close thought to the little problem which you
indicated, sir, and I can see only one solution.'
'One is enough. What do you suggest?'
'That you go to Cambridge in Mr Sipperley's place, sir.'
I stared at the man. Certainly I was feeling a good deal better than
I had been a few hours before; but I was far from being in a fit
condition to have rot like this talked to me.
'Jeeves,' I said sternly, 'pull yourself together. This is mere babble
from the sickbed.'
'I fear I can suggest no other plan of action, sir, which will
extricate Mr Sipperley from his dilemma.'
'But think! Reflect! Why, even I, in spite of having had a disturbed
night and a most painful morning with the minions of the law, can see
that the scheme is a loony one. To put the finger on only one leak in
the thing, it isn't me these people want to see; it's Mr Sipperley.
They don't know me from Adam.'
'So much the better, sir. For what I am suggesting is that you go to
Cambridge, affecting actually to be Mr Sipperley.'
This was too much.
'Jeeves,' I said, and I'm not half sure there weren't tears in my eyes,
'surely you can see for yourself that this is pure banana oil. It is
not like you to come into the presence of a sick man and gibber.'
'I think the plan I have suggested would be practicable, sir. While you
were sleeping, I was able to have a few words with Mr Sipperley, and he
informed me that Professor and Mrs Pringle have not set eyes upon him
since he was a lad of ten.'
'No, that's true. He told me that. But even so, they would be sure to
ask him questions about my aunt--or rather his aunt. Where would I be
then?'
'Mr Sipperley was kind enough to give me a few facts respecting Miss
Sipperley, sir, which I jotted down. With these, added to what my
cousin has told me of the lady's habits, I think you would be in a
position to answer any ordinary question.'
There is something dashed insidious about Jeeves. Time and again
since we first came together he has stunned me with some apparently
drivelling suggestion or scheme or ruse or plan of campaign, and after
about five minutes has convinced me that it is not only sound but
fruity. It took nearly a quarter of an hour to reason me into this
particular one, it being considerably the weirdest to date; but he did
it. I was holding out pretty firmly, when he suddenly clinched the
thing.
'I would certainly suggest, sir,' he said, 'that you left London as
soon as possible and remained hid for some little time in some retreat
where you would not be likely to be found.'
'Eh? Why?'
'During the last hours Mrs Spenser has been on the telephone three
times, sir, endeavouring to get into communication with you.'
'Aunt Agatha!' I cried, paling beneath my tan.
'Yes, sir. I gathered from her remarks that she had been reading in
the evening paper a report of this morning's proceedings in the police
court.'
I hopped from the chair like a jack rabbit of the prairie. If Aunt
Agatha was out with her hatchet, a move was most certainly indicated.
'Jeeves,' I said, 'this is a time for deeds, not words. Pack--and that
right speedily.'
'I have packed, sir.'
'Find out when there is a train for Cambridge.'
'There is one in forty minutes, sir.'
'Call a taxi.'
'A taxi is at the door, sir.'
'Good!' I said. 'Then lead me to it.'
* * * * *
The Maison Pringle was quite a bit of a way out of Cambridge, a mile
or two down the Trumpington Road; and when I arrived everybody was
dressing for dinner. So it wasn't till I had shoved on the evening
raiment and got down to the drawing-room that I met the gang.
'Hullo-ullo!' I said, taking a deep breath and floating in.
I tried to speak in a clear and ringing voice, but I wasn't feeling my
chirpiest. It is always a nervous job for a diffident and unassuming
bloke to visit a strange house for the first time; and it doesn't
make the thing any better when he goes there pretending to be another
fellow. I was conscious of a rather pronounced sinking feeling, which
the appearance of the Pringles did nothing to allay.
Sippy had described them as England's premier warts, and it looked to
me as if he might be about right. Professor Pringle was a thinnish,
baldish, dyspeptic-lookingish cove with an eye like a haddock, while
Mrs Pringle's aspect was that of one who had had bad news round about
the year 1900 and never really got over it. And I was just staggering
under the impact of these two when I was introduced to a couple of
ancient females with shawls all over them.
'No doubt you remember my mother?' said Professor Pringle mournfully,
indicating Exhibit A.
'Oh-ah!' I said, achieving a bit of a beam.
'And my aunt,' sighed the prof, as if things were getting worse and
worse.
'Well, well, well!' I said, shooting another beam in the direction of
Exhibit B.
'They were saying only this morning that they remembered you,' groaned
the prof, abandoning all hope.
There was a pause. The whole strength of the company gazed at me like a
family group out of one of Edgar Allan Poe's less cheery yarns, and I
felt my _joie de vivre_ dying at the roots.
'I remember Oliver,' said Exhibit A. She heaved a sigh. 'He was such a
pretty child. What a pity! What a pity!'
Tactful, of course, and calculated to put the guest completely at his
ease.
'I remember Oliver,' said Exhibit B, looking at me in much the same way
as the Bosher Street beak had looked at Sippy before putting on the
black cap. 'Nasty little boy! He teased my cat.'
'Aunt Jane's memory is wonderful, considering that she will be
eighty-seven next birthday,' whispered Mrs Pringle with mournful pride.
'What did you say?' asked the Exhibit suspiciously.
'I said your memory was wonderful.'
'Ah!' The dear old creature gave me another glare. I could see that no
beautiful friendship was to be looked for by Bertram in this quarter.
'He chased my Tibby all over the garden, shooting arrows at her from a
bow.'
At this moment a cat strolled out from under the sofa and made for me
with its tail up. Cats always do take to me, which made it all the
sadder that I should be saddled with Sippy's criminal record. I stooped
to tickle it under the ear, such being my invariable policy, and the
Exhibit uttered a piercing cry.
'Stop him! Stop him!'
She leaped forward, moving uncommonly well for one of her years, and
having scooped up the cat, stood eyeing me with bitter defiance, as if
daring me to start anything. Most unpleasant.
'I like cats,' I said feebly.
It didn't go. The sympathy of the audience was not with me. And
conversation was at what you might call a low ebb, when the door opened
and a girl came in.
'My daughter Heloise,' said the prof moodily, as if he hated to admit
it.
I turned to mitt the female, and stood there with my hand out, gaping.
I can't remember when I've had such a nasty shock.
I suppose everybody has had the experience of suddenly meeting
somebody who reminded them frightfully of some fearful person. I mean
to say, by way of an example, once when I was golfing in Scotland I saw
a woman come into the hotel who was the living image of my Aunt Agatha.
Probably a very decent sort, if I had only waited to see, but I didn't
wait. I legged it that evening, utterly unable to stand the spectacle.
And on another occasion I was driven out of a thoroughly festive night
club because the head waiter reminded me of my Uncle Percy.
Well, Heloise Pringle, in the most ghastly way, resembled Honoria
Glossop.
I think I may have told you before about this Glossop scourge. She was
the daughter of Sir Roderick Glossop, the loony-doctor, and I had been
engaged to her for about three weeks, much against my wishes, when the
old boy most fortunately got the idea that I was off my rocker and put
the bee on the proceedings. Since then the mere thought of her had been
enough to make me start out of my sleep with a loud cry. And this girl
was exactly like her.
'Er--how are you?' I said.
'How do you do?'
Her voice put the lid on it. It might have been Honoria herself
talking. Honoria Glossop has a voice like a lion tamer making some
authoritative announcement to one of the troupe, and so had this girl.
I backed away convulsively and sprang into the air as my foot stubbed
itself against something squashy. A sharp yowl rent the air, followed
by an indignant cry, and I turned to see Aunt Jane, on all fours,
trying to put things right with the cat, which had gone to earth under
the sofa. She gave me a look, and I could see that her worst fears had
been realized.
At this juncture dinner was announced--not before I was ready for it.
* * * * *
'Jeeves,' I said, when I got him alone that night, 'I am no faint
heart, but I am inclined to think that this binge is going to prove a
shade above the odds.'
'You are not enjoying your visit, sir?'
'I am not, Jeeves. Have you seen Miss Pringle?'
'Yes, sir, from a distance.'
'The best way to see her. Did you observe her keenly?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Did she remind you of anybody?'
'She appeared to me to bear a remarkable likeness to her cousin, Miss
Glossop, sir.'
'Her cousin! You don't mean to say she's Honoria Glossop's cousin!'
'Yes, sir. Mrs Pringle was a Miss Blatherwick--the younger of two
sisters, the elder of whom married Sir Roderick Glossop.'
'Great Scott! That accounts for the resemblance.'
'Yes, sir.'
'And what a resemblance, Jeeves! She even talks like Miss Glossop.'
'Indeed, sir? I have not yet heard Miss Pringle speak.'
'You have missed little. And what it amounts to, Jeeves, is that,
though nothing will induce me to let old Sippy down, I can see that
this visit is going to try me high. At a pinch, I could stand the
prof and wife. I could even make the effort of a lifetime and bear
up against Aunt Jane. But to expect a man to mix daily with the girl
Heloise--and to do it, what is more, on lemonade, which is all there
was to drink at dinner--is to ask too much of him. What shall I do,
Jeeves?'
'I think that you should avoid Miss Pringle's society as much as
possible.'
'The same great thought had occurred to me,' I said.
It is all very well, though, to talk airily about avoiding a female's
society; but when you are living in the same house with her, and she
doesn't want to avoid you, it takes a bit of doing. It is a peculiar
thing in life that the people you most particularly want to edge
away from always seem to cluster round like a poultice. I hadn't been
twenty-four hours in the place before I perceived that I was going to
see a lot of this pestilence.
She was one of those girls you're always meeting on the stairs and
in passages. I couldn't go into a room without seeing her drift in a
minute later. And if I walked in the garden she was sure to leap out at
me from a laurel bush or the onion bed or something. By about the tenth
day I had begun to feel absolutely haunted.
'Jeeves,' I said, 'I have begun to feel absolutely haunted.'
'Sir?'
'This woman dogs me. I never seem to get a moment to myself. Old Sippy
was supposed to come here to make a study of the Cambridge colleges,
and she took me round about fifty-seven this morning. This afternoon
I went to sit in the garden, and she popped up through a trap and was
in my midst. This evening she cornered me in the morning-room. It's
getting so that, when I have a bath, I wouldn't be a bit surprised to
find her nestling in the soap dish.'
'Extremely trying, sir.'
'Dashed so. Have you any remedy to suggest?'
'Not at the moment, sir. Miss Pringle does appear to be distinctly
interested in you, sir. She was asking me questions this morning
respecting your mode of life in London.'
'What?'
'Yes, sir.'
I stared at the man in horror. A ghastly thought had struck me. I
quivered like an aspen.
At lunch that day a curious thing had happened. We had just finished
mangling the cutlets and I was sitting back in my chair, taking a bit
of an easy before being allotted my slab of boiled pudding, when,
happening to look up, I caught the girl Heloise's eye fixed on me in
what seemed to me a rather rummy manner. I didn't think much about it
at the time, because boiled pudding is a thing you have to give your
undivided attention to if you want to do yourself justice; but now,
recalling the episode in the light of Jeeves's words, the full sinister
meaning of the thing seemed to come home to me.
Even at the moment, something about that look had struck me as oddly
familiar, and now I suddenly saw why. It had been the identical
look which I had observed in the eye of Honoria Glossop in the days
immediately preceding our engagement--the look of a tigress that has
marked down its prey.
'Jeeves, do you know what I think?'
'Sir?'